Archive for December, 2019

Mr. Sandman Is A Sadist

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , on December 31, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I think the longest I have slept without waking in the last three days is 45 minutes. Waking up that many times every night does lead me to feeling rested and pleasant. I am aggro as fuck. Happy bloody New Year’s Eve.

My check still hasn’t deposited and I am allegedly supposed to get my money two days earlier than everyone else based on my online debit bank. The cat food bucket is at the bottom, for fuck’s sake. These pig cats went through 34 pounds of cat food in a month. A friend sent a bag of Meow Mix and suddenly these cats are eating machines. I am putting them back on dollar store or Walmart gruel. They eat (and barf less) when I keep them on el cheapo food. They sure did enjoy the Meow Mix, anyway. But it ain’t in my budget. And if my check does not deposit soon I will be down at my dad’s groveling for a coffee can of their cat food to make it til Thursday or Friday. Fucking holidays fuck everything up.

I’ve been awake an hour and am still clearing cobwebs from my brain this…super bitchbeast. Spook has already screamed that she hates me cos I made her clean her pigsty of a room. Oh, well. Candy wrappers and dirty clothes stuffed between the wall and mattress aren’t gonna fly, little girl.

I got some housework done finally since she was playing with her little friend. Vaccumed, swept the kitchen, hung some laundry, scooped the cat boxes, took out trash. THEN I went to do dishes and son of a bitch…the hot water heater pilot is out AGAIN. I followed the directions taped to it like ten times and I still can’t get it to fire up. And R is super busy and disinterested since wifey is home and he doesn’t need my low class company to avoid boredom so chances are nil to get him here. Which leaves me boiling pans of water indefinitely or, egad, asking dad and stepmonster to come look at it. It’s just button pushing, not like you gotta disassemble anything and mess with actual flames. I am not technically inclined. Every time I think I am making a dent in things…something else goes wrong.

The car is on E again. $89 on gas just for December alone. It’s 20 miles just to get to the turn off to town and back to Armpit and I must have made 30 trips plus the trips to Dopia school which adds another 15 miles round trip. I am so sick of putting gas in the damn car. I am sick of not having a gas gauge that works. Sick of hoping my mileage estimation is correct. In town, I spent maybe $30 on gas for the entire month.

I haven’t bathed in 5 days and my hair feels nasty. Now I gotta boil water and freeze my ass off just to get semi clean.

And I am also sick of people with their fussy little, do you ever have anything good to say?

I am just reporting the facts and feelings, I can’t help it they’re downers. Welcome to my life.

But yeah, I can say some good stuff. But I’ve already said it multiple times in previous post how grateful we are to our friends on line who helped us survive the holiday season and at some point, it just feels like I am trying too hard to seem grateful. And like someone who says “I love you” a thousand times a day, it just starts to feel insincere, played out, and honestly…Fake.

I am deliriously happy I got to put up my 2020 Friday The 13th calendar. I am elated that a friend sent us a few things from our wish list that we desperately needed but did not get for Christmas. I am thankful to our friend who mailed us a big box of stuff she was getting rid of.

I’d be more thankful if someone would spring ten bucks so I could have a few drinks tonight and actually ring in the new year. I usually just feel so depressed and hopeless about the new year, I am in bed by ten. 20 year old me would be disgusted with 46 year old me. I’ve all but waved the white flag and let depression take over.

I saw the shrink yesterday. He increased the Cymbalta but did not want to add too much so I am waiting to see him in another month, then we will discuss Trazadone. Which is odd cos when I started seeing him he changed like 4 things at once. But I guess he just wants to be sure that if my mood lifts, it is the Cymbalta and not Trazadone, vice versa. Fair enough. I really do get worked up about these appointments to the point it gets me physically ill and I don’t know why now cos I truly like this shrink. He’s a nice guy and seems to care. (My brain is screaming, well, duh, he gets paid to pretend he cares!)

The weather has been abyssmal. Three days of rain, a day of blackened gloom. From 64 degrees down to 32. I am reeling. Just trying to remind myself there are only 89 das in winter, it is gonna be a long 89 days but after 36 hears battling this beast…I’ve got this. Or I don’t. Everyone has a breaking point.

Mine could well be whatever is going on with my kid. I have ten people telling me what a great kid she is, perfectly behaved, no mouthing off. She comes home to me and in 5 minutes she is in a screaming blubbering fury towards me. She doesn’t seem to know how to do anything but yell. And only at me. It’s exhausting. I am busting my ass for this kid and she just…I am gonna go in with her at the next counseling appointment. She has got to figure out why she’s flying off the handle only at me. If she did it to everyone else her “puberty’ excuse would be legit. This is a choice to only come at me. And of course, she has my dementia riddled mom winding her up about how I don’t do this right or that right and I’m not patient and I am selfish…My mom has always been a borderline scream-then-cry-sorry type but everyone’s noticing how quickly the dementia is progressing. She says things that aren’t true and 6 people can be there saying it is true, you just forgot, she still keeps pouting and insisting only she is right. I’d like to have more empathy for her but to this day she thinks me taking meds is just being weak and mental illness is a choice so…

I told Spook often sometimes the hardest part is liking the people you love.

Now I may get dressed, if only cos my fave skull jamma pants have a scratch waist band and it kinda hurts. Maybe a miracle will occur and my check will deposit.

So I thought yesterday, checking my balance like 16 times.

What can I say. When the cats are in danger of not having food it really rattles me. Of course I am so high strung running low on anything gets me bent. Ermagod, the dish soap is at 1/4th bottle, freak out!!!! Down to one stick of margerine, PANIC!

More proof that my mother and others with her mentality are just ignorant.

No one would CHOOSE to be this way.

Hopefully the check will come, I can replenish cat good supply, pay bills, and finally relax enough to get a good night’s sleep. I won’t hold my breath because that sandman is a fucking sadist. But one can always have hope…

Knock Out FAIL

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , on December 29, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I decided last night to end the argument in my own mind and said fuck it, I wanna sleep. So I took 6mg melatonin, 25 mg benadryl, .25 mg xanax and 50 mg TRazadone. I fully expected to go down like bricks sinking into water. That did not happen.

By 11 p.m. I was not so much as getting sleepy or yawning so I decided I’d just play some word games on my kid’s Neopets account. She never keeps enough points to feed her pet anyway and I kinda rock Word Poker so…Three hours later I was still playing games. I think I earned her 2,000 neopoints. And still, I wasn’t sleep-ready but I was a good girl and turned off the computer and assumed the Fort Blankie position for sleep.

2:30 a.m., three and a half hours after taking all that stuff to put me to sleep…and I was NOT asleep.

My mind was racing. My heart was thudding to the point I could feel my pulse in my ears.

I do think, however, that by allowing myself to say ‘fuck it’ and stop letting my inner guilt trip travel agent from making me feel bad for wanting sleep.

You don’t always get what you want, though.

My sister texted me around 3 a.m. She was surprised I was still awake. Then the unthinkable, her and her friend called me and they’d been drinking. My sister was loud and her friend was teary with the “I love you like a sister, Niki.” Egad. I know I used to drink to that extent but now, I max out at 4 Mangoritas and I am ready for sleep, not socializing. They were carrying on about me and Boop coming to my sister’s house to drink on New Year’s and we could just crash on the spare bed they have there…And I made the appropriate noises because I think once sobered up, things will calm down.

I just never pondered going to their house and drinking on New Year’s Eve because it will be the second anniversary Wednesday of their family member hanging himself in the basement. And partying at a time like that where his mother will be grieving just seems insensitive. And I HATE sleeping anywhere but my own bed. Not to mention because my sister is a loud mouthy fight starting drinker, my mom goes on a tirade if ANYONE dares to drink in the house. Though half the people there are already stoned out of their gourds on pot, it;s booze that makes us bad people. I’ll be a bad person cos weed does nothing for me. I don’t care if it’s the new black or trending or ‘pot has never killed anyone like booze’. And frankly, liking to get your drink on once or twice a week-especially when someone else is paying and you’re not driving, I don’t see why it makes my mother get so bent. She used to drink so much in her younger days she barfed her dentures into a toilet and flushed them. Then one day she wakes up and suddenly smoking and drinking make you a bad person, never mind her past, she ‘cured’ herself.

Likely I will just stay home with Spook that night, skip any drama.

I finally had to just basically say bye, love you, and hang up at 3:55 a.m.

Lay down. Heart still thudding. Get up, take more Xanax and melatonin, lay back down.

(Insert Final Jeopard music here to indicate waiting and waiting.)

I finally dropped off. Only to wake again at 5:30, then again at 7 a.m. as it was getting light out.

When I finally went down, it was hard. I didn’t wake til the alarm went off at 11:15.

The ONLY thing I have accomplished in three days is to refill my ice cube trays and feed and water the cats.

And blissful sleep WHEN my stupid brain allows it.

Sleep should be easy. It should not be this torturesome.

And yet here I am and it is.

Dad called to invite me over for a country breakfast. Had I been hungry I’d have gone cos I love food I don’t have to cook. But I’m just not hungry and I still have a touch of reflux from last night’s meatloaf so…I hope they didn’t take it as rude, I just am not hungry. Damn it, I miss my selfish teens and twenties when I was not perpetually tormented by this whole conscience thing and always wondering if I am being rude or taking someone for granted or not showing enough gratitude. Living in a perpetual state of self doubt sucks. I’m okay with the self awareness, but never being able to determine if my actions are appropriate or if I am being a dickbag.

Then I think, well if you were being a dickbag, would you even stop and ponder your behavior?

Spook will be coming home soon. I should do some housework. She always asks, “What did you do, Mom?” I honestly get sick of telling her I did nothing but eat, watch TV, and sleep. Feels like I am failing her. But considering she gripes about everything anyway and does not even notice when the house is entirely tidied…Meh.

Today is gonna be another ‘fuck it’ day.

One day maybe I will write a book about the curative effects for mental illness that the words “fuck it” possess. Seems to me it makes me more functional, or at least more at peace, when I stop beating up on myself and just allow myself to feel how I feel, do little and yes…say FUCK IT.

Thinking about it, it may also be the ultimate ‘fuck you’ to polite society who perpetuates the whole mental illness stigma and cuts you zero slack and judges you so harshly. Just stop letting that toxic mentality get up in my face and tell the whole lot ‘fuck you and fuck off.’

That includes Mr. Sandman, that elusive, sadistic prick who won’t allow me to sleep like a normal human being.

And btw, don’t judge me for playing Neopets. I’ve had an account with that site for 20 years cos I love their puzzle games. But I have over a million points so I can afford to feed my pet. Spook needed the points and I needed to shut off my brain and just…spell stuff. I love to spell. I’m a nerdling that way.

Oh, hell with Nerdling. I am totally jazzed about the upcoming Picard movie/show thingie. I am a true nerd and proud of it. I am due some props for managing to be both a mouthy cursing goth/metal badass AND a sci-fi watching baby Yoda loving Trekkie who thinks spelling bees are fun.

It takes special powers to be dark and sarcastic while shrieking how cute baby Yoda is.

Yeah, yeah, psych pros call it a cluster of personality disorders.

I call it being awesome.

Morgue Van Winkle

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , , , on December 28, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I am currently in an argument. With myself.

I finally have a 2 day kid free weekend.

What have I done?

Watched TV, same old shows on Pluto, same episodes I’ve seen a dozen times.

I’ve eaten.

I’ve taken melatonin and Trazadone.

I’ve slept. I went to bed at 10 last night and slept til 9:30 this morning when my dad called. I was up several times during the night, bathroom or thirst or just the sobering reminder the house did not feel like ‘home’ because Spook wasn’t home. Or the maddening kittens who have been going stark raving mad, tearing through the house like a herd of cattle, fighting each other on my bed to where I am in the middle and they are sinking claws and teeth into my back. They also like to wake me with eyeball licks and nibbles of my eyelashes. But in spite of waking up so many times, I was able to get right back to sleep.

Wicked weird dreams ensued. Man, I wish I had a way to transcribe my dreams into a story outline so I’d remember it more vividly. I sometimes get flashes of memory but it’s often vague or splintered or just plain hazy. But I have some pretty elaborate fucking dreams involving shit like sinking in the Titanic, being a hitwoman who shoots people, being a murder victim, having my guts ripped out, being on some sort of space mission where terrorists attack…What the actual fuck, right? I’d happily trade these dreams in if I could just ‘get’ back the spark that my fiction writing comes from. It’s been gone 5 years now and I am terrified it won’t be back. But my writing has always come in cycles and gone in cycles and I always think it means I’ve run out of talent and am nothing’s usually stress based or tied into my meds not working or situational. My brain is always creating and seizing on ideas. It’s just being able to sit down and get them on the page that eludes me. That has to be a special place for star, moon and sun to align and ‘magic’ to happen.

So dad called and woke me at 9:30. I don’t even remember what he babbled about. I got myself some soda and watched more Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders:Making The Team. At this point I’ve pretty much seen every episode of every season but IDK, sometimes I get into shows I’d otherwise scoff at watching. In the 80’s it was Matlock and Diagnoses Murder, 90’s it was Saved By The Bell, 2000’s it was King Of The Hill, the last two years it was whatever was on Ion channel, and now I am on binge watching whatever catches my interest on my TV’s Pluto app. Think after I got stuck in the middle of aeason six of TWD and my anxiety won out and I could not watch it anymore…I’m just looking for background noise. Something mindless, familiar, or like cheerleading, something that I would not be interested in therefore it can’t be infected with my depression or anxiety.

All morning all I thought about was, what if I just went back to sleep, there’s a Trazadone right there on the table you didn’t need last night, you don’t really HAVE to do anything and you can always sleep til evening and get stuff done after dark…so I took a melatonin and a Trazadone and waited. Ate something. Waited some more. I was shivering and could not get warm. My brain would not slow down. The kittens would not stop fighting and clawing me in the back. I finally kicked them off the bed and just snuggled under the bedspread and…I slept.

I woke and it was dark out. Clock said 5:30. I felt guilty for sleeping. Yes, my go to feeling for sleep is guilt. Long story involving my former mother in law but yeah, guilt from sleeping. Might as well be out committing felonies if I am gonna end up feeling so guilty. I wasn’t awake a half hour and dad called. Again. Geesh. I still couldn’t get warm so I dug out an ugly but heavy sweatshirt that was a handmedown. It’s 55 degrees out, the furnace is barely kicking on, and I was freezing. Dad warned me it’s a sign of some ‘mini flu’ going around. I was expecting the usual ‘suck it up’. He even offered to bring me a plate of their leftover meatloaf and mashed potatoes. I was grateful, kind of took the whole ‘what to eat’ decision out of my hands, thankfully. I finally opened my laptop for the first time all day, which is NOT my norm. I get alerts on my phone for emails and that was causing me anxiety so I went into avoidance mode. Weirdness. Finally read my emails, answered one. Answered a couple of texts. Still never ceases to amaze me how some people can one minute run so hot and act like they truly care about your well being, then the next they don’t reply for days and come back with something so blah they could have been sending out a mass reply to everyone who asked them about Christmas.

SERIOUSLY. I am supposed to make myself more available and open to socialization but others can be distant and “I’m busy” is good enough answer? And a good friend pointed out, validly, that some people truly are just *very busy* and it isn’t personal. Has some credence. Except when you know someone so well and have witnessed them purposely avoiding returning calls and texts cos they just don’t want to and truly aren’t *that* busy they can’t fire back a 10 second reply of “all is good” “Fine, hope you are too.” What gets me bent the most is that this busy person is the one who was always getting pissed and having tantrums if I took longer than 10 minutes to reply to a text or missed his call. PLAY FAIR OR GET THE HELL OFF MY PLAYGROUND AND STAY OFF! How is this unreasonable thinking? I just want to be treated with some fucking respect and fairness. But I suppose this is karma, pointing out with my manias and depressions, I’ve left dozens of people wondering how anyone could run so hot and cold to the extreme. Yay, karma, now stop biting my butt cheek and piss off.

Now it is 10 p.m., I have not so much as bathed or filled an ice cube tray and all I can think about is…SLEEP.

And the truth is, I have so much trouble with insomnia and sleep disturbance, I NEED the sleep when I can get it. This napping/sleeping too much thing is not daily or normal, I rarely get to indulge my need for more sleep. So why the hell am I feeling so guilty about it? Spook won’t be home til 5:30 tomorrow night so I will have all day Sunday to clean the house (I have GOT to run the hell machine, the carpet looks icky even to my low standards)…So this is the argument I am in with my own mind. Do I say fuck it and allow myself to just get some rest in the aftermath of a very stressful holiday month? Or do I try to at least drag out enough energy to fill ice cube trays and bathe?

But I don’t wanna bathe, I finally got warm, then way too warm and sweated through the neck and hoodie of my sweatshirt so I had to change into something lighter…Now I am just in between hot and cold, I don’t want to be cold again.

Question is, will I have any more energy to get stuff done tomorrow?

I never really know.

I just know I’ve slept way too much and yet…I still want more sleep because I run at such a deficit.

I am also reminded I have got to start living on Pepcid cos getting heartburn and reflux no matter what I eat is painful and annoying.


Methinks the ‘fuck it’ rule is being called into play. I take my sleepy meds and if I sleep…yayness. If I don’t…maybe by saying fuck it, I will suddenly find energy to ‘do something’.

Or maybe I will just amuse myself with the fact I can control my Pluto TV app right from my phone without an app. Not being an app queen and never using any digital assistant, it’s kind of a novelty that I can view the channel line up, scroll through, change the channels, right from my phone’s browser onto my TV screen. It’s neat. And I am apparently easily amused. Or easily amazed because in spite of having my $29.99 ZTE smart phone for 5 years, I am still learning of the things it can do.

My kid wants an Alexa. I do not. Though if I ever did get one of those smart speakers, I want the one that has Samuel L. Jackson’s voice. Hells yeah!

Now if they start offering robot assistants cheap and they can do dishes and sweep and vaccuum…

I want one.

I don;t remember what show it was but the property inside was guarded by these robot ‘dobermen’ dogs. That was creepy.

But a Rosie from The Jetsons?

I’ll take two, but make them men. I’m big on defying the whole gender role thing. Men doing housework makes me giddy.

I am letting my freak flag fly very high tonight.

Skulls and Pink Flowers

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , on December 27, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

How much must I love my kid to wear this all of Christmas day and take a pic wearing it? She could have gone with any other flower color but she chose pink to troll me.

I found my dream boots and I want these so bad for my birthday. Sadly they are a little pricy and they only have one pair left in my size and my birthday isn’t til January 22nd so…prolly not gonna get them. But I sooooo want them, like, sooo damned bad. They are everything I’ve wanted in a pair of boots.

I considered just buying them myself when my check comes in IF they are still available and just make up the money with whatever cash I get when my birthday does come around. But my family has been throwing me curveballs left and right so I can’t really count on getting money for my birthday. I was expecting cash or a Walmart gift card from my dad for Christmas because it’s what he did for 7 years and I’d spend the gift card on Spook. Not this year. She needs socks and undies and bras and I could use a couple of warm sweatshirts, I don’t really have any warm shirts. Just proves I should never get complacent in my expectations of my family. And this is in no way a fuss budget whiny “Boo hoo, I didn’t get what I wanted for Christmas.” I am truly grateful for what I got. Just saying, when your kid needs clothing items and it’s pretty urgent and you don’t have the means to get the stuff, it leads to stress.

Having mentioned fuss budgeting…my kid hung out yesterday with her nightmare elitist friend. He called me six times and texted me three times in the 4 hours she was over there. They were fighting over every tiny thing. And he throws things when he doesn’t get his way and his mother does nothing about it. Spook did not want him touching her new MP3 player so he called me to ‘tell her I can touch it” and I told him, dude, if she doesn’t want you touching her stuff, don’t touch it and back off. Then he called again to tell me they rode bikes to the park and she was feeling nauseous, could I come pick her up. When I did pick her up, I was infuriated to see she’d ruined her new khaki jeggings by basically wallowing in playground tar. And that wasn’t her fault either, she claims, cos HE told her to sit in the tar. Then it was a loud motorcycle driving by that was so loud it caused her nausea and she knelt in the tar…I got them soaking in awesome stain remover, laundry soap, ran them through the washer..But they are ruined. Bloody hell.

So I grounded her til Monday and made her do chores. I texted Nightmare and told him she was grounded and not to call until Tuesday. He kept calling, then bugging her on Skype. I try to avoid interacting too much with the parents of her friends and I don’t wish to get kids in trouble but this is getting ridiculous, I may have to have a chat with his mom. Which means actually making a phone call, something that causes great anxiety, and having seen how the woman never holds him accountable, I don’t know it’d do much good. Think I liked it better when he offended Spook with the obscene sex talk and she shut him out for a month. It was a peaceful month without him in my face. I don’t think I disliked any of the trailer park kids this much. Though dislike is a strong word. He’s not hateful or anything. Just annoying and fussy and whiny and stalky as fuck.

So I put her to work on bathing the tar off her body, washing a small batch of dishes, and refilling my ice cube trays. She swept the kitchen and declared the broom’s name is Jeff. I hung some wet laundry, changed the litter boxes, took out trash, cleaned off the table and counters and stove. Then I made a batch of coconut clusters and watched Major League, about the only sports movie I ever truly enjoyed. Watching anything when Spook is home and not on the tablet is a misery. She interrupts incessantly, calls what I am watching boring, then wants to ask a thousand questions on the plot and characters…GRRR. But if I dare even say hi to her while she is involved in a Minecraft game, she screams at me.

Tonight and tomorrow should give me a chance to decompress. She is spending both nights in town with mom, then with her cousin and his wife. And other than getting caught up on laundry and vacuuming with the hell machine, I’ve got most of the housework caught up so I should be free to just…zone out. May even stop by to see R, he offered to buy me Mangoritas as a Christmas gift but we missed each other over the holiday. Do I need alcohol? No. Is it a bad choice considering all the meds I am on? Yep. But do I need to loosen up, slow my mind, and feel good for a little while. Absofuckinglutely. It is just soo bloody bizarre that R will always spring for booze but if I need money for gas or meds, he hems and haws about it. Guess we all have our priorities. Idk, depends on how I feel once I get back in the petri dish. I had 2 days home in my safe bubble so hopefully I can survive a trip to town. I need to get groceries so going to Aldi always proves to be the biggest challenge. It’s funny cos when me and my sister were kids and stuck growing up in Buttcrack, Midwest, population 144…we looked forward so much to the once weekly trip to town to Aldi when mom got groceries. It meant we’d get these generic multipacks of gum, sticks, gumballs, lil squares and it came with fake tattoos on the wrappers. That was our fun when we were kids, our family was so broke. Now going to Aldi just feels like punishment.

Dear God, the child just waited til now to tell me she has no clean pants. She didn’t ask me to wash and hang any last night. I have no dryer, no money for the laundromat, what the actual fuck, child???? Maddening. Like waiting til she’s down to zero clean underwear in her drawers to tell me on a school morning she has no clean undies. ARGHHH! I know, she only has 4 pairs but damn, let me know when you’re down to your last pair and I will get the clean stuff going, it just takes time to hang dry them indoors.

My insomnia and body’s fucked up tolerance of meds was at play last night. I took a 50 mg Trazadone around 8:45 and I was still awake at midnight. WTF? I was going stir crazy. So I took a melatonin and a benadryl and last I saw the clock it was 2 a.m. and I was terrified I’d have a hangover and trouble getting up with Spook. I woke at 5:30 but managed to get back to sleep. Then I saw the kitchen light on when I woke at 7:30 and that got my attention cos it means the spawn is on the loose. Amazingly, no hangover, no falling back to sleep repeatedly. I’m at my wits’ end on how to deal with this insomnia and this interrupted sleep cycle. The only thing left to try is shit like Lunesta or Ambien but insurance won’t cover it so what the fuck am I supposed to do? My brain is just too damn hyperactive and churning with thoughts for sleep, I guess.

So far it’s gloomy out today and only 31. It was 64 and sunny yesterday My seasonal depression is confused as hell.

Hopefully the next two days will give me a break from the mommy thing and I can recharge.

Though in my experience after the first 12 hours, I get a little lost and don’t know what to do with myself without the mommy gig.

Now to contemplate clean clothes. It’s not looking good. And I just put these clothes on yesterday evening. Though I did sleep in them. But it’s so cold in the house, I don’t want to leave the warmth of my thick hoodie (it’s slate blue and stepmonster gave it to me and it promotes my kid’s school, ick.) Can’t take Spook to town til after 12:30 cos as my sister said, “We sleep late here.” How nice that luxury must be.

And one more ode to boots and skulls, though I could never walk on skinny high heels and I most certainly would never pay $130 for boots. But Demonia just makes the most awesome gear…

No more pink flowers, though. Black roses or yellow roses or blue carnations are fine. Just anything but pastel pink.

Consistently Inconsistent

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , on December 26, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I survived the holidays, get out the pompoms and drive a float down the stress tossing candy!!!!

Last night I thought I was due a total zone out so I took 50mg Trazadone and 6 mg melatonin. I went down FAST. And then I woke up three different times. At one point, it was 2 in the morning and I was wide awake, which is kind of odd since Trazadone generally makes me so groggy I go right back to sleep whether I want to or not. Was weird. I slept til 8:30 and didn’t have the normal Trazzy headache tho I am still a bit cobwebby of the brain in spite of being awake 3 hours. Least I have followed through on my plan to get my bedding through the washer and part of it that’d fit out on the line. 62 degrees in the midwest in December right after the official start of winter- this is lovely but soooo not the norm. And it could go back to 10 degrees and snow at any time so I’m gonna use that fresh air and sunlight to dry my heavier items when I can. I dropped the ball the last 3 days cos it’s been 50 or more 4 days now but with the holidays, I just didn’t have the extra energy. Though I am never short on energy to mentally beat myself up for my failings.

Spook is already off to play at her friend’s house. I told her to walk since it is so nice out. And to make it clear to this prissy boy that I am in no mood for company today so he is not to come to our house. If I want destructive criticism, I’ll call my family.It boggles the mind that I have had 10 people traipsing through including the landlord and 4 of his family members with full power to throw me out for subpar housekeeping and they said nothing. Yet this 13 year old prissy boy comes in and starts critiquing my housekeeping, my income, my parenting skils…It’s just like, autism spectrum or not, it’s obvious his parents simply have not held him accountable for LEARNING basic skills. I am not without empathy, it IS difficult to have social skills when your brain is all FUBAR. That does not mean, however, that even the most impaired can’t learn basic courtesy. And this boy is on the spectrum but he is far from as impaired as say, my 43 year old autistic cousin who can barely form sentences and pisses in closets and really IS beyond help in some ways. I am sure Spook will come home and report to me how all his criticisms about how everything she got for Christmas being cheap, junky, not good enough, and how he got 400 items that cost a hundred bucks or more each and are all brand name and superior. She has got to truly be bored and lonely to hang out with him, all he does is piss her off. And personally, I choose not to let in the toxicity of snobby well off people who don’t have the decency to keep their uppity opinions to themselves.

Feeling frustrated about having to do dishes again after doing the mountain yesterday. And no more than Spook ate of that meal I cooked, I wonder why I even bothered dirtying all the dishes when all she really cared about was me making more coconut clusters. So when she complains that we don’t eat at the table like normal families, I hope she remembers it’s because she refuses to eat REAL food and she is always wanting to Matlock it and eat at 4:30 p.m. like a senior citizen whereas I prefer to eat around 5 or 6:30. Maybe if she’d meet me halfway we could eat together but as long as she refuses to eat homecooked food and insists on frozen pizzas and chicken nuggets and ramen two hours before I am even hungry…guess us eating like normal families is not a likelihood. And part of it, sometimes, I blame on the school. They are so worried about these small portioned fat and calorie controlled ‘healthy’ foods, pretty much every kid comes home starving every day cos they burn off the low calorie food so quick. I have tried giving her more filling snacks so she can wait longer for supper but she has been Matlocking since she was 3 years old and I guess she likes it that way.

More weird dreams, though I don’t know if it’s the trazadone, the melatonin, the exhaustion, the anxiety and stress and depression…But what used to be vivid but fairly pleasant dreams are becoming the old scary dreams that had the doctor put me on Prozasin to stop them and I don’t like it. I will discuss with the shrink Monday.

In another inconsistency that even boggles my kid’s mind…I’ve been watching Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders “Making The Team”. And Spook is like, WHY are you watching this, you hate this stuff! She’s not wrong. But after exhausting every other show ad nauseum and just neededing something fairly calm and bland in the background…this works. It’s different. For once, others are being criticized rather than me. And if these beautiful thin young girls who are talented and personable can be told their numerous flaws, it reminds me that NO ONE is perfect. I’m not into the frou frou cheerleading ‘good looks are everything’ spiel but honestly, these girls work really hard, train hard, and it takes courage to follow your dream. Especially the ones who don’t make it yet keep coming back to go through rejection again and again…Then seeing the ones who do make it and they make the teary call home to say….I’m in, Daddy! That gives me the warm fuzzies and makes me cheer for them. I also like dance, so some of the routines are entertaining even if it’s too many people making too many motions all at once and my brain gets a little fried trying to sort it out. It’s just a time killer til the holiday hiatus on my favorite shows is over. And it’s a free Pluto channel so not like it costs me a dime.

I really need to get off my ass and accomplish stuff.

Also, I really need to cut myself some slack and celebrate the holiday being a positive one, embrace the kindness others have shown us, be thankful for the generosity given us, and you know…shut my brain off for a little while and just breathe. Not sure I’ve taken a deep breath since December 1rst when all this holiday rigamarole started. Only other month of the year that’s this busy is August with Spook’s bday and the start of school. That others live at that fast pace every day boggles my mind. And honestly, makes me feel panicked. Was always one of my biggest issues with R. He just never stops, he works 18 hour days and socializes and works on cars and his phone is always ringing or alerting to a text and…just being in his busy proximity gets me all panicked. Fast paced is a trigger for me, even if it is someone else’s pace.

Ending note:

I read an article-well meaning, of course- that kind of triggered my ‘authentic as fuck’ approach to my blog. I am not hear to promote and generate income and build a CV. I am here to rant and curse and spew my feelings of hatred be it for brussel sprouts or Justin Bieber music. The beauty of my blog is that it’s honest, sometimes to an ugly degree that makes even me cringe a little.
If ever you start seeing a change in this blog where jerks are being forgiven and sunshine is being spewed and it’s on topic and spell checked and all that garbage and there is no usage of curse words, especially the “F” word…

Happy Kwanza, Boxing Day, St. Stephen’s Day, and “Returning Gifts After Christmas” day.

I’m gonna ponder accomplishing something then probably saying fuck it, I’ll do it tomorrow. Believe it or not, some of my most productive days have been after I’ve blogged and called it an unlikely day for productivity because I gave myself permission to say fuck it…Then I got stuff done. Ya just never know. What I do know is A.) I am consistent only in being inconsistent, and B.), it’s okay to vent by swearing and sometimes saying ‘fuck it’ is absolutely more empowering than beating up on yourself.

Not The Brightest Bulb On The Tree

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , on December 25, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

The title is not a self put down. It’s an ode to lack of focus and short term memory because it didn’t hit me til 4:45 p.m. that we hadn’t turned on our tree for Xmas Eve or Day. Wtf, Morgue? Spook didn’t complain so it just…skipped my mind, I guess.

Good news…it’s been a good holiday. No drama with the family (just way too many people who are way too loud and need a volume control installed.) I got a couple of things I asked for and that made me happy. I know things were tight for my family this year but mostly because my sister chooses to buy for 18 people and their kids who aren’t even related to us. One year, I got a $12 pair of pajama pants that ripped first time I wore them cos my mom had spent all her money on my sister’s friends and their kids. I always thought you did for your own first, but in this family, or at least that faction…unless you’re a small kid or one of the good time gang, you’re of less importance.

Spook got her MP3 player and pajama pants and some make up and such, she was very happy. And the Twerking Llama toy, ermagod, it is so adorbs and so funny! The only real things we were disappointed not to get was she wanted a watch and big make up kit and I was kinda hoping for new bedsheets and a comforter. I only buy sheets once a year and comforters every three years but these cats and their claws have really shredded my stuff. But it’s not the time to gripe about what you didn’t get, it just reminds me what I need to focus on saving up for if the donor ever starts paying support again. Though socks and underwear may not be able to wait for both of us, we are growing girls. Hers is puberty and sweets, mine is a hot and heavy affair with soda pop. I barely eat sweets and have one meal a day, so all my calories seem to come from soda. I’ve tried to quit it, to go diet, but…FAIL. I can’t give up smoking, drinking, and sex, dammit, I gotta have a vice or two to stay interesting. Pizza, soda, fries, and burgers it is. At my age, I could starve myself to a size zero and I’d still be considered unattractive. Fuck ’em.

I do not bake, or cook a whole lot. But I dared to try and made coconut clusters. They turned out bloody awesome, even though my sister was quick to point out I didn’t use the better pricier chocolate. I was so proud of myself for finding the energy and courage to make something to take there and…always, never good enough for anyone. Least my kid and I like them fine. I did a pineappled ham today but Spook didn’t seem to care for it. Oh, well. It was funny watching her eat kernal corn with the new Pikachu chopsticks my sister got her. I got gray hair waiting for her to eat one spoonful. Kinda funny, though.

Today has been fairly calm. Spook ‘let’ me sleep until 7:25, which I needed cos I was up four times during the night and I was exhausted. Then after opening gifts she offered to help with the dishes. Just washing the cups and silverware exhausted her so I forced myself to do the rest. Now we have like 8 things in the sink and I wanna get them done but then it’s like, oh, geesh, don’t be OCD. But then again, if I let them pile up…Argh. Depression is such a spiteful bitch, why can’t this stuff just come to me easily?

I think the two items Spook liked the most from me were the blue tooth headphones and the 80 pc slime kit. And she only got the blue tooth headphones cos the jack on her tablet for earbuds or whatnot is broken.

I loved my Muk Luk slippers, my warm housecoat, my Infinity speak, and my Jason Vorhees calendar the best, I think. Of course, I appreciate everything, but it always means a little something extra when my family actually LISTENS to what I want. Though my sister spending $55 on a bathrobe boggles my mind, Wal-Mart had the same ones basically for half that. Oh, sorry, none of my business, attitude of gratitude…but that has got to tell you something about just how frugal I am when I start sweating the price of what others spend on gifts for us.

So it was a pretty good Christmas, no major trauma, and I am filled with gratitude for all who have helped us, shown us kindness, and generally seem to care for me and Spook.

My biggest self loathing thing of the whole holiday is that I left my phone at home so I didn’t get any pics of Spook at mom’s with her gifts 😦 And I was in phone withdrawal because driving home after dark and the car possibly breaking down…Then I got home. No messages, no emails, no missed calls. Kind of drove home how utterly insignigicant I am to others. Not boo hoo, just…maybe I should try a little harder to be less…scary? But aside from wearing black, loving Halloween, and having dark sarcastic humor, I don’t really see how I am scary to anyone. Different, sure. But scary? I even got my cats canned food and gifts for Christmas, how fucking evil and scary can I be when I am that mooshy?

Oh, well. Can put ‘be more social’ on my to do list for 2020. Right along with ‘Get people to vote for Baby Yoda for President 2020’

Scary Cryptmas to all and to all a good fright.

And my all time fave Far Side comic.

Not So Merry And Bright

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , on December 24, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Not exactly a shocker but today my body and mind concur that I feel like shit all around. Headache, tummyache, backache, grogginess, a severe need to go back to sleep and not deal with the inevitable conclusion to this rigamarole called the holidays. I can barely handle the thought of putting on clean clothes and making an effort to feign civility and basic hygiene. I want it over with.Don’t get me wrong, I am happy that my kid is happy. I let her open a gift early and it was the monster slime kit she’s wanted forever so she was elated. And I felt like I did something right for once. But much as her happiness makes me feel ‘good’…it does not serve as this magical cure to a long depression or the exhaustion this month of helliday tasks.

She keeps counting down the hours til we go to my mom’s. I am just in dread mode, never knowing when my mom is gonna go dementia nukes on anyone.

My brother apparently tripped on his pant legs and landed on a wooden book shelf last night, busting his forehead open.

R texted then called me last night after 10 p.m. asking if his job sends him out of state again if I would be willing to step in and help with the shop briefly. I said fine but if they keep him gone at week 3 and the customers awaiting repairs show up with torches and pitchforks, my ass is gone. His wife invited us over later this week to catch up. She also gets quite a hoot out of hearing all about my fucked up family and its white trash dramas. I’d probably laugh at it all too were it not for the depression and ya know, this being my real life. Like a neverending episode of Springer complete with the shame and embarrassment and lack of dignity and in our case, no one needs to script the explosions or arrange it…it’s just always there, brewing, never quite sure when it will implode or explode and who will be in the line of the fire.

My kid asked me why she had such mixed feelings about her grandfather cos he is pretty strict and harsh and set in his redneck ways. I told her sometimes the hardest things we ever have to do as people-child or grown up- is deal with the cognitive dissonance of loving your family yet not always liking them. And sometimes the dislike results in the urge to take a shovel to their heads. Especially when the family is so negative and overcritical and unsupportive and non encouraging.

I called my dad, all jazzed the other night, because unbeknownst to me or Spook, a drawing she submitted through her school was actually chosen to appear on the 2020 calendar for a local manufacturing plant. I thought it was so damn awesome and he was just like, yeah okay…If she’d raised some critter for FFA he’d have been over the moon but because it’s art, his disdain isn’t even thinly veiled. Thank God she has me to nurture and encourage that aspect of her creativity. (Though if she wants to raise her mama a pet goat in FFA…Lurve goats!!!)

In another bizarre development, after all the fucking drama created at school and on the bus over that male friend of hers saying something sexually inappropriate that set her off…and got bus seats reassigned and the principal involved and it turned into this huge deal…Now she wants to be his friend again. After putting him through all of that (which she still won’t own, she says she told one friend and they went to the school about it, well I think she should have discussed it with the boy’s mom and explained his words had made her feel unsafe, and just keep it low key cos um, 13 year old boys have always said gross stuff and grown men are not much different.)

But she played at his house for 2 hours then came stomping home in tears cos she got this tiny cut on her finger and she wouldn’t talk to him or explain herself so he showed up at my door bawling and saying he was sorry, he didn’t want to lose another friend cos she is the only one he hasn’t entirely run off…GAH! Must my child be so dramatic? And of course, I let them play here and all this kid did was repeat…”I know you guys are poor…My iphone cost $600. Her tablet is a $30 Walmart special…you need to get this app, it gives you more money cos you guys are poor.”

And I told him hey, we have a roof overhead, the heat is still turned on, we have water, food, a car, the cats have been fed and my kid got Christmas gifts so I’d call December a win. Seriously, bad as things get for us at times, I have never truly considered us ‘poor’, just cash broke. I have seen so many people over the years who were in so much more dire straits and they truly were poor in the truest sense of the word.

Then he asked for food and soda. He ended up dropping the pizza rolls on the floor so he asked for more food. Then he asked for ice cubes so I handed him the tray and he said “Your ice looks dirty.” No, it looks exactly the same as it always does, the trays are just a little less white than they should be because I’ve had the for over TEN YEARS.

I just fail to see how raising an elitist little snob without mental filters to stop his rudeness makes his parents any better than me. Having more money doesn’t a good parent make. And the little brat even went so far as to comment on my parenting, saying that I get mad at my kid all the time but she does do a lot of stuff wrong. I half expected him to want to give me a damn physical exam, since he is so investing and lacking in filters. And the autism and ADHD thing only go so far. He knows right from wrong. But it’s this whole current generation, they just have no gratitude for how well some of them have it and they don’t hesitate to point out everything we don’t have and think nothing of being so rude. And I blame the parents for not teaching them some tact and basic fucking manners. I was just glad when he left. Living under his microscope in my own home is hell on my nerves. And they were in the kitchen doing slime stuff so I didn’t even feel comfortable going to the bathroom in my own home cos the door is right off the kitchen, six feet from where they were. GAH.

Just when I think I can handle opening up my safe space and trying to be a ‘normal parent’ for my kid’s sake…I am proven right to be wary and paranoid and just…say NO.

Now…the struggle to get myself cleaned up. I still have to make out Christmas cards for everyone. I am just so phoning it in this year for everyone but my kid. I am sure by the time we get there I will have my society approved fake smile in place but my brain will be counting down til we can leave. And that means driving after dark, always a harrowing event for me. Thankfully we can stay home alone tomorrow and just vegetate while she goes gaga for her gifts for all of 45 minutes. NOTHING holds her interest but that damn tablet. Her friend got an X Box and was mocking her for not having one and I told him flat out that the no game system/no phone thing has nothing to do with being broke and everything with me saying NO. She is not mature or responsible enough to own expensive stuff like that. Nothing like a know it all 13 year old spoiled elitist to try to guilt trip me and remind me how my being poor denies my kid sooo much.

Okay, wish me luck with the Redneck Springer Helliday Shindig. I am gonna need it in my current mental state. I might be the one going nukes-heavy if anyone sets me off too much.