This Rant Approved By Jason Vorhees

Happy Friday the 13th.

Not sure how happy it is thus far. I couldn’t stay asleep and woke at 5:45 and said fuck it. Any time I get up that early, I feel like shit an hour later with the grogginess. I took my meds and now I have heartburn and I am hungry but food will make it worse. My kid came out of the gate swinging this morning, screaming at me that I ‘shove the pills down her gullet’ and she doesn’t want to take them cos she doesn’t need them. The changes her teacher has noticed the last several weeks would beg to differ. Not that I don’t relate to not wanting to take my pills but I’ve had enough time and experience in the idiocy of going off them to know side effects or not…I DO need them. At least by the time she left for the bus she was back to being a semi civilized little human.

I have not been sleeping well, at all, for weeks now. Sure, with melatonin and benadryl, I can eventually fall asleep. I just can’t STAY asleep more than 2 or 3 hours at a time. Leading to day time naps and much self loathing and positively dragging ass exhastion. Monday and Tuesday were a total wash, I got very little done around the house. I think I bathed and that was it. My kid came home with mega drama so I had to email the principal and the guidance counselor, then secure her a sudden appointment with her counselor in town…She’s starting puberty and her mind and body are out of synch so…it’s like living with a mini me, never knowing what mood will happen, if one thing will piss her off or make her happy one minute to the next, how to give her space but not make her feel neglected, how to be firm but not too strict…It’s enough to cause a brain bleed.

And yeah, I know, EVERY parent goes through it, blah blah blah. Most parents aren’t going through it alone, with no support system, little money, and every mental diagnosis known to man.

Like I said, I totally phoned in it for like five days so yesterday my kid literally got down to having NO clean clothes. I was forced to face the piles of dirty clothes, get them washed, then scrape up quarters to go to our hellish laundromat. Where only 2 of 6 dryers were working and the floor was littered with leaves, used dryer sheets, and oh, a stray rubber glove covered in something brown. I got that done then got treated with a visit from my dad to get my trash and he started in on the leaves in my yard, the cats getting under the porch, my car possibly going on the fritz, how the size of my clothes are circus tent size…There is a reason I’ve called the man the gloom and doom monger since my early teens. If he ever said anything NICE to me, I might faint. He is just so fucking damaged. He had a wreck with his big rig last year where he turned it over and I was so relieved he wasn’t hurt, I went to give him a hug…and he shrugged me off like toxic waste. I get kids who grow up without affection tend to grow into adults who can’t give or receive it, but hey…My parents showed me little affection after I reached double digits which is why I guess I like hugs and pats in the back or knee, or just ANY positive affection. Why I try to make sure I hug my kid and kiss her and tell her how smart and funny and pretty she is and how much I love her. I NEVER want to be as damaged and frigid as my parents. Bad enough I turned into my father, perpetually nagging my kid to turn off lights when she leaves a room. But I am not quite as bad as him cos I run TVs and computers all night without thought to costing electricity.

Ugh, the power bill. My low income grant hasn’t gone through and we’re in week 4 of processing. I got hit with a double bill totaling over $500 and they want $191 by the 18th or they will turn me over to collection agencies. Legally in the state they can’t turn your service off between December and March, but they sure can take you to court, demand a deposit before accepting payment and all around make your life a mess. And it isn’t the electricity that is killing me, that was barely $60. It’s the gas to run the furnace. And I am still freezing most of the time with it at 70. Not like it’s not commonplace, had the same problem at the trailer in town. So I guess I will wait for the grant and let them sic collection agencies on me.Guess I dropped the ball on that, too, making a partial payment then getting hit with two months’ bill. My grant usually goes through in 2 weeks. I just had this dream that when we moved from the shabby uninsulated trailer with its ancient craptastic furnace, we’d finally have a home that was comfortably warm and affordable. Ha ha ha, joke is on me. Dad keeps telling me to put plastic over the drafty windows, yet I don’t hear him ponying up $50 to buy the heavy plastic, a staple gun, staples, sealing tape…Ideas are great. But if they take money I don’t have, they really aren’t feasible ideas. I think he just likes any reason to bitch at me. What would help the problem of me always being cold would be some thermal underwear but those are difficult to find in black. (And no it is not some snotty fashion statement thing, I just can’t be allowed to own anything white, between my sloppiness and my sweat turning white stuff yellow…NOPE. Gray or black.)

So I took my kid to town to see her counselor for a whole half hour. Then we went to the pharmacy where I had to wait in line for fucking ever to get our refills. Then to Hellmart where she said we had to get a gift for her friend’s birthday party and she knew what the girl wanted was these rings in jewelry. We get there and she doesn’t know the girl’s ring size or if she likes silverplate or goldplate or well, anything about her. Which lead to us being there 40 hellish minutes while she piddle poked and changed her mind and about drove me to stabbiness. Finally got home and I tried to call my mom to discuss what all they’ve gotten her for xmas to avoid doubles since we all have to shop at the same shitty stores in town…Well, Spook decides that is the perfect time to yapping loudly as possible, wanting me to play with her, ‘be funny’ and I could barely get a word in edgewise on the phone. Spook constantly does that, we’ve been having this battle since she was 4. I rarely use the phone so when I am using it, just leave me alone for a few mins, for fuck’s sake. And man, I can’t get a call or text and she’s right in my face demanding to know who it is and what they said. Then she’s constantly on me about looking sad when I don’t even realize I am looking sad because I don’t walk around with a mirror. I get lost in my swirling thoughts and my expression is whatever it is. I would have personally gone with mixed panic and anger as my perception, but she sees it as sadness.

 

All this scheduling and emailing and calling and talking and people-ing and driving and kid drama and my own fucked up moods an anxieties…I am the walking DREAD. Zombie-like, shuffling along, making required moans and growls and snarls, performing my mom-ly and adult-y duties like a zombie eating flesh…Dead but alive. And filled with dread every single day I have to contend with all of it. None of which I blame on my kid, mind you, I signed up for this parent gig. It does not, however, change the fact that all my ‘issues’ (read LEGIT MENTAL HEALTH DIAGNOSES!) make things a hundred times more difficult. Not boo hoo me, just…hey, look at me, I am shambling and rambling but my kid is fed, clean, clothed, there are clean clothes and dishes, the power and water are still on, woo hoo, I am a rousing success even if every other thought is about the oblivion of sleep…Because.. DEPRESSION, HELLO?

Driving home after dark last night was a harrowing event. So many winding roads and I can’t fucking see six feet ahead and I swerved on the shoulder and I bet the people behind me thought I was drunk. Sorry, just fucking night blind, apparently. I was in full panic mode, terrified, and a yappy child in back questioning my driving didn’t help. And I’ll have to do it again tomorrow after the party ends at 5 p.m. on those twisty turning pitch black roads to Bumfuck. I do not relish that thought at all.

Nor do I anticipate with any enthusiasm the predicted snow Sunday and Monday. All the gloom really is dragging me down. By 5 p.m. it is dark out and my brain thinks, oh, sleepy time.

It took me ten years but I finally gave in and started watching The Walking Dead. Honestly, it isn’t awful, but it’s not living up to all the crazy hype that’s gone on for years. It is no Z Nation. My sister says it’s just very dark and serious. Um, Z Nation wasn’t a bloody party at Chuck E Cheese, their humor was very dark, and they still managed to be serious. Anyway, I am season 3 of TWD and sometimes it’s edge of my seat and other times it’s like, ugh, get on with it, I’m bored. And there are so few truly likeable characters. (So glad when the worst of the bunch met his demise- and it wasn’t even the psychotic racist ear necklace wearing redneck duo!) X Nation made me care about the characters, even the back stabbing sociopathic Murphy. On TWD, I like Rick and Glenn and I liked Dale so buh-bye, of course…I am gonna power through it. I got to episode 14 of season one of The Vampire Diaries and met my quote of teen angst. Besides, I’ve watched it before, sans the last 2 seasons. Moving on…Cos nothing holds my attention for long. My thoughts are like madly flying ping pong balls and trying to fetch one out of the air and smack it with the paddle and hold onto it is just damn near impossible…This the disjointed mind numbing long ass rants I spew here.

On the agenda for today…Find warmer socks cos my feet are frozen. Maybe do dishes. Still have 2 loads of laundry but that will take time, I am gonna air dry them in the house. That laundromat is nasty, not to mention it cost $4.00 in quarters to dry two measly loads.I should rake my leaves but if it bothers my dad so much, let him fucking do it. I answer only to my landlord and his proxies and the village.

Now onto something more happy. My ode to Jason Vorhees and Friday the 13th. Have a killer day, guys.

One Response to “This Rant Approved By Jason Vorhees”

  1. […] Where Bipolar Lives Even If Wished Dead « This Rant Approved By Jason Vorhees […]

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