Archive for the biolar disorder Category

ALL Lives Matter

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , on August 14, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

For months I have watched headlines scream “black lives matter” now “white lives matter” (after the tragic and vile neo nazi incident) and even ‘clown lives matter”.

Guess what, world?


Black, white, gay, straight, mime, clown, adult, child, senior citizen, cat, dog, fish chum…ALL LIVING CREATURES MATTER!

The current “Make America Hate Again” culture not even truly protested by our country’s “leader” is reprehensible and shameful and those who abide by it are more vile. Yeah, we are entitled, as Americans, to our opinions and free speech.

The line is crossed when people start getting injured or killed.

I am sure this post will be met with frowns, unfollows, dislikes, whatever. But it is how I feel, bipolar or not.

Telling me not to disapprove of hate is despicable. I’m no fan of clowns but hey, whatever.


If this offends you…your soul needs a toe tag as you don’t have one.

It’s okay to have your own opinion and beliefs. It’s cool if you don’t agree with gays/whites/blacks/illegals./cat lovers/Perry Como fans…That is YOUR right afforded by being in the United States.

When your OPINIONS start causing injury, hatred, and controversy not even TRULY dispelled by the president…(Yeah, yeah, soundbites don’t count, anyone not in a coma knows the current regime hates everyone who isn’t rich, white, elitist, etc)…

Your conscience, should you have one, should weigh heavily on you. For most of the hate spewers believe in God and religion and Hell and ya know what?

There is no Heaven I want to enter into if it encourages hatred and violence and discimination.

Hate me if you want but I stand by this post even more than I do my posts mentioning that Justin Bieber is the devil.

Yeah, I can make jokes (sorta) like that because I am an American. Your rights allow you to frown, hate me, demonstrate, flip me off, but you DO NOT EVER have the right to commit violence against anyone because you don’t agree with their choices or identities.


Someone should hash tag that because it is the truth in any country, any religion, any race. ALL LIVES MATTER.

Altered States

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on August 14, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

The Donor used to say he never knew who he would coming home to after work and at the time, I wasn’t quite sure what he meant. All people have good days, bad days, good moods, bad moods. It’s not exclusive to me just because I am bipolar and highstrung from anxiety.

Now I am starting to get it. The mood swings are speeding up, the lows lasting longer than the level or highs. And seeing how my own kid turns on a dime…Yeah, I see never knowing which personality you’ll be dealing with. It’s not multiple personality or dissociative, it’s just nature of the beast called bipolar or maybe in her case, being a fickle pickle of a child.

Yesterday I was ready to drink the Kool-Aid, so to speak. Just…inner darkness and self flogging.

Today I am agrro and unsure what mood swing is around the corner. I am dealing with my kid and her dramas, R is not back to his ‘real job’, they used him 3 days then never called him back so he’s back at the shop wanting me to find parts.I have cramps and I don’t know if the meds have screwed up my cycle again or if it’s stress or maybe the ovarian cysts are back and rioting.

I am so disillusioned because I had a few weeks with more ‘feeling good’ than wanting to drink bleach. Why can I never maintain? And is it this inability to “respond properly” to the meds the reason my shrink dumped me on the newbie doctor nurse? Because while I am not as aggro about it as I was a few weeks ago…I am still irked. I like that she is a little more willing to be aggressive in treatment whereas he wanted to try one med at a time without decreasing another…At the same time, I go in and sit there and rather than feeling heard, she’s busy with her computer check list on my symptoms, barely listening beyond asking the standard issue questions. That annoys me.

And it all goes back to my altered mental states. By the time I see her, Thursday or Friday, will I be in tears or will I be totally furious or complacent? Will I have the nerve to tactfully speak up and express my concerns to her about my current treatment status? Or will I cave in to “being the good girl” and being “complaint”? For the psychiatric establishment to place us in that constant state of self doubt and invalidation is abhorrent.

Then again, we do it to ourselves just as much because we know our own altered states and mood ups and downs.

For today, I am rolling with the punches without too much overreaction. Except when my kid vanished and wasn’t where she said she would be and wouldn’t reply when I called for her and I was terrified someone had kidnapped her or she had gotten hurt and couldn’t answer…I did raise my voice and order her “get your butt back home NOW!”…Not my finest moment but I was freaking out and mad that she so openly defied me then tried to make excuses for herself and then blame me because I am the worst parent ever wanting to know where she is…

Currently I am on her shit list for saying no to a sleepover but the girl griped about the fleas and I treated the cats and now the place has begun its first treatment for the bugs, NOT the optimal time for a sleepover…but I am ruining her life, all the while worrying with my limited (I love you guys who cared enough to donate!) fundraiser will result in me not being able to keep up with the monthly treatments to keep the bugs away unless I choose to not eat or take my kid to school cos we don’t have food or gas money…

BREATHE, Morgue.

Still it is a concern and legit and I am on a roller coaster with my own kid who loves me one minute then says I am the worst mother ever the next…While contending with my own ups and downs and self loathing for having the ups and downs..

Just gotta ride it out. Many others have it much worse.

I wish that meant something to society. My nephew and his fiance split (again) and she kept carrying on about how we are a dirty lazy family…Trying to meet someone else’s unrealistic expectations is exhausting. And I have to do it daily. Amazing I even have the energy to type out all my frustrations.

Deflated And Defeated

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , , , , on August 12, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Today sucked. No mega calamities, but had to do the shop thing for 8 and half hours with whiney nagging spawn in tow..And of course, feeling tapped out psychologically means every single tiny thing is like a chainsaw to my psyche. Kid nags and nags and has fits and talks when I answer the business line then knows I need to help a customer so THEN she demands my attention or I am the worst mother ever…And three TV’s and an amp came in today and I heard NOTHING from R about what was done and who needed called or stalled.

Which leads to my other problem. THE NEW ASS TRASH DUMBASS SMART PHONE. I can make and receive calls fine. My holy grail, unlimited texts, are not working AT ALL. People text me, I get nothing, they get mad. I text them, they get nothing, I want to throttle my wireless carrier. I spent an hour on chat support and this dude told me we’d gotten it all fixed and hours later, I can send a text but it bounces back as invalid recipient, or I don’t even get that much so I am all stressed over buying a new phone and expanding my plan on my own dime and my SERVICE IS STILL GARBAGE. I never had so much trouble with Tracfone prior to becoming involved in their Lifeline/Safelink program, since the it’s been nothing but dropped calls and texts that never send or get received or come days later. Yet they won’t own anything even when I have spent almost two hours in a week trying to get this stuff straightened out.

The powers that be are trying to pass a new bill so taxpayers won’t be forced to fund phone access for poor people. I think this is shitty but considering MY CRAP SERVICE under the government plan in spite of me purchasing my own phones and shelling out for extra phone and text services…Something is broken here so our Lifeline isn’t such a safelink, now is it?

Another problem popped up with the car. The driver’s side window had a piece fall off so now the power window kinda bobbles in the frame, and come winter, that is gonna be frostbite city but R says my rust bucket is so old finding that little chintzy piece is gonna be difficult and pricey. Which means, of course, I owe more of my soul to him and his shop and whims and yes, I need the help cos, gotta have a rolled up window during winter but…

Nearly 3 months with a defiant screaming child and her daily mob of friends…I am on thin ice here. Yesterday I said no to her taking her new MP3 player outside and…this is what she did during her tantrum.

Yeah, she sat in front of her door thrashing and punching and kicking until she kicked in the bloody wall. I even recorded the audio to go with it, where she told me how much she hates me and wants them to take her from me or she wants me dead.

Everyone says it’s normal kid stuff, I am overreacting, but kicking in a wall, saying such horrid things to her mother, and being so out of control, even if is periodical and related to me saying no to her whims…Something is wrong with my child. I don’t care if she need meds or therapy or yoga or gluten free cardboard tasting rice cakes…SHE NEEDS HELP. She keeps playing the “I have anger issues” card because I tossed it out once to R as a joke. While it may have some ring of truth…she makes her choices. They say no to her all the time at school and she doesn’t get in trouble or even get notes sent home.

I think my rude awakening was yesterday when one of her friends knocked during her tantrum and I went to tell S that Spook would not be playing any more that night…and my daughter came raging out of her room, in hysterical tears, screaming, and she shoved me and pushed me right in front of her friend.

Normally I am a badass who won’t tolerate being mistreated to that degree. Thanks to Snowflake Society and The Pathological lying snowflake brigade…I can’t even reach for her arm to guide her inside because she will yank free hard enough that a mark is left and I turn out to be the bad guy simply for setting boundaries.

This child is kicking my ass. Every part of me prays to pegacorns, spaghetti monsters, and whatever deity gets you through the day..let this violent behavior be a phase, let it be something that a lot of therapy (if ass trash donor’s insurance will even pay) can help, or even meds, again, IF his ass trash insurance will cover it.

But the ass trashiest donor (oh, sure, there are way more awful sperm donors aka dads but Spook’s deserves a special reward for being so emotionally immature and oh will it bite him on the ass come court time for posting proposal pics with his old gf on line while still married to me only for them to split up and him move on to another woman and they too split…) Least amidst my psych damage I am still able to form attachments to my child, my pets, my friends, my possessions…

He may hold a job and convince people with his fakeness but he is far more broken than I will ever be.

Another thing that really brought me down today, something that never really hit me before which makes me think maybe policies have changed but…my kill the bugs fundraiser..Three good friends saw fit to donate a total of $170. After gofundme and wepay take out their fees and percentages, it amounted to $130. Not that I am without gratitude, I was able to get an estimate (three bedrooms, two baths, and cracked walls and crevices, it’s gonna exceed the $500 I thought was aiming too high) and I did order a big batch of the pricey but very effective stuff I used last time to weed out the ickies…Just irks me that fundraising sites would deduct THAT much, like I am robbing those who were kind enough to donate and because of the fees I still have to keep begging and pleading so I can swing the professional year long contract that is the ONLY way to slay all the roaches.

I am so grateful to those who donated and I pray with all the noodley goodness of the flying spaghetti monster and sparkly rainbow farting magic of the sacred pegacorn me and Spook can get a few more DONATIONS.

And ya know, if you find the on line “scampaign” thing daunting…we’re more than happy to just have the bug killer sent to us via on line purchase or even a prepaid gift or visa/mastercard. We’re not looking for a spa day and endless skiball at Chuck E Cheese. Opening the cabinet without it raining cockroaches…YEAH, that is what we want.


And so now that the life has been sucked out of me and even my own child makes me feel unworthy of drawing breath and nothing I do is ever good enough yet I am so exhausted a little part of me could use a couple of days resting at the Rubber Ramada cos damnit, adulting is hard, and it sucks even more when you’ve got chemical imbalances in your brain…

Hopefully tonight I can sleep. No demand to be at the shop tomorrow morning. Maybe I can breathe. Or maybe I can stop being convinced I have bugs in my hair cos I’ve been checked and checked and no one sees anything even if scumbag brain says otherwise…(Kinda like after I got doped on depo provera and was convinced for a year I was preggo even with periods and dozens of negative preggo tests.) Pregnancy and childbirth and single motherhood have really turned my brain to mush and paranoia, and it was bad enough due to brain damage long before that….But the idgets around me fail to see just how difficult it has become, how bad it gets…

Cos by midwest mindset, one you have a kid, you cease to be capable or entitled to anxiety or depression. So says my classy as fuck family.

The final insult…The weather here is changing, getting cooler, even tree leaves are starting to change colors in spite of almost 6 weeks til the fall season change…Both my knees are killing me and that only happens when using steep staircases daily or…change of weather. I like being in pain, it’s awesome. Oh, no, wait, it isn’t. My brain is frigging burnt toast.

So my kid is more erratic than me and violent at age 8. My death trap bucket of bolts car has another problem I can’t afford to fix. The cockroach problems worsens and the “ever so helpful” fundraisers and pay out places rob you of much needed money so kindly donated by such amazing, caring people…R is asking more of me than I have to give and it might get me a bag of cat good or a pack of smokes, but he’s driving a shiny 2005 Mustang while criticizing my ’93 rusted Buick so even if he does keep his word on getting me a better car…

Will my sanity be in tact enough for it to matter?

Don’t get me started on all the political related horrors that pop into my email inbox.

Even without bipolar and its soup de jour byproducts..I think this day and age is as appropriate a time as ever to feel horrified, scared, and ashamed to be an American.

And that is my truth, not my disorder or their distortions. A country that strips away your rights, spits on everything our founding fathers valued, and our leader is being considered a mentally unstable ‘nuke war starter’ by his own people all because he WON’T STAY OFF OF TWITTER…

Feels like I am living a cross between the movies Strange Days and Gattaca. And badass as I may be, I am petrified. Brown eyes,dark hair, too many extra pounds, little proper education, no job AND mentally defective…

Question isn’t why I am so deflated and defeated and scared.


Mental distortions due to psych disorders and psychological damage don’t always mean we those eschew it should wear tin foil hats.

Honestly, we only do that on Wednesdays when we get THE INCOMING MESSAGE FROM THE BIG GIANT HEAD and put on our foil hats, but that’s subterfuge to cover our spaghetti tentacles as we are busy paying homage to his noodliness.

Life is really shitty but as long as you can find humor like that…Guess life has robbed you of everything just yet. And if it doesn’t make you smile, smirk, or become incensed to hear me be so sarcastic about it all…

I gotta try harder and be a better writer. That’s all that has ever mattered to me.

The typos alone should tell you that much. Love me, love my writing, love my typos. Unless you want to work for free and proofread. In which case you are like OCD and we’re not gonna get along so….


Pardon me now, I am gonna slither off to bed and hope for a few hours I can dream about anything but my current mental state and reality. Even nightmares are better because they do end when you wake.

No, not being Debbie Downer. This is just where I am right now. In my dreams…my bills are paid, there are no roaches, my car runs properly, and my kid adores me. Who wouldn’t prefer that to a reality that is the opposite.


At What Cost

Posted in anxiety disorders, biolar disorder with tags , , , on August 10, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

So, yeah, I did my time at the shop in the name of bartering for automotive work and help with grocery bills…But then I fetched my kid and she wasn’t with me 3 mins before darting to her friends. Then ten minutes in she is bawling because the older girls were having a sleepover but The Devil Girls claimed she has head lice so she was left out. Five mins after that one of the ringleaders was back and my kid was elated to be graced with her disloyal bullying friend’s presence.

The Devil Girls’ dad yelled at my kid the other day and told her to get her “ass” out of his yard so I got a can of spray paint and put down a thick black line to demonstrate OUR yard from theirs. I told Spook, cross the line, he is within his rights to call you on it. However, if you’re on our side and he yells at you again, I AM calling the landlord and the cops because this is frickin’ ridiculous. REALLY! His eldest was held in the church office Sunday for saying “motherfucker” on the bus toward my kid. People like him are why those of us living in trailer parks are called trailer trash. I gave my kid a boundary, told her if she crosses the line I put down, then she is technically on his lawn and he can protest. Still, in her own yard he has the white trash audacity to start shit. Every single day this entire summer and there’s fuck all I can do about it. I turned his kid in for stealing the mail from my mailbox and called the cops and they all but patted her on the back and said it was ok and mom and dad nodded along.

So in addition to 8 and a half hours of brain bugs (and soon as I said the shop was dead then people started calling and coming in, ewww)…And my kid mouthing and saying she wants a better mom who lets her do whatever she wants and I ruined her life…Then R tells me he needs me at the shop the next two days and frankly, we need food so I can’t really say piss off so I am trapped…

I keep hearing how mentally imbalanced people can lead NORMAL productive lives as long as they take their meds, do therapy, and have a support system BUT THAT IS RUBBISH. I am on the precipice of a total nervous breakdown and people just want more and more from me, because hey, being broke means my mental issues don’t matter and I can ‘tough it out’.

Yet here I am, cringing when a kid or cat touches me because I have zero personal space and wanna scream and run and hide and my brain is on overload and that damned mosh pit in my brain of brain bugs is still rampaging,,,

I need a shower but I’ve got nothing left in me. Everything aches. My brain just wants to sleep forever. I was making headway, the Trintellix was helping, but the minute my anxiety level syrockets and people put me in a position that, yeah, sure, maybe I can muddle through…

But at what cost to the little progress my treatment has made psychiatrically? At what point am I entitled to say, “The price I pay psychologically simply isn’t worth losing months and months of progress in the treatment of my disorder> Oh, right, broke people don’t have the luxury and mentally disordered people don’t have the right.


I was on the mend and now I am falling back into the abyss but because I got my dates mixed up I am facing disconnection on my power bill (bad credit punishes you for life) which is more financial stress and R expects me to “be a good friend’ and suck it up to help him out even though my car has been fucked up for months and he’s not had a single ten minute jag to take it about and maybe discern the problem even if he’s made two dozen promises. Oh and that’s my fault too for not reminding him, but when I remind him, he gets irked.

I forget the gainfully employed and educated get to make those of us in a smaller sinking boat feel small, blown off, and less important yet totally indebted.

Since my fundraiser to get the roaches exterminated is going so poorly (thank you to who did donate/repost/share!)…I have no choice but to be R’s bitch, and the cost to me is immense and I may actually devolve.

At. What. Cost. When is sacrificing your mental well being and hard won progress an even trade to make sure your kid has food in her belly and a car to get her back and forth to schol cos the ass trash district won’t allow her to ride the bus since we don’t meet the state guidelines in distance for them to be reimbursed (by.2 tenths of a mile.)

How much of myself must I toss down the drain in the name of survival? Because if doing so results in me melting down and being able to offer my daughter nothing,,,


Smart Phones Make Me Feel Dumb

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , , , , on August 3, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

So I upgraded to a ZTE Majesty Pro smart phone after the dumbass “oops, I lost my flip phone” debacle…

Thing is, I kinda like this new phone. I and I mean “kinda”. Because all the permissions and me accidentally denying them cockblock me, or text block, me anyway…it’s frustrating.

BUT I got my personalized ringtones (30 Seconds To Mars “The Kill” for calls, AC/DC “Back In Black” for texts, and oh, yeah, Joan Jett’s “I Love Rock ‘N’Roll” for an alarm) and I got the keyboard for fat fingers and a skull background…and OMG, soooo much easier than that other ZTE I had for a whole month cos service was so pricey thus I gave it to my spawn to destroy and she did…This Majesty is…Less convoluted.

Still, makes me feel less stupid, but also, dumb. Thank you, Google Gods, for letting me find the answers the stupid manual doesn’t have.

Is this post relevant? Nah. Important? Hell no! But…Change for me is very very very uber difficult. When I manage it without a meltdown…I DO want to shout it from the mountain tops.

What is so weird is I am self taught on computers and multiple Windows OS (with a little friend help) but smart phones terrify me more than any desk top, lap top, tablet, Windows OS or even Android. You live with a ‘dumb phone’ for 17 years, and sending a text becomes an exercise in frustration because you “denied” permission without even knowing what you were doing so you can’t send a simple bloody text…GRRR. Not a fan.

I am trying, I am managing. Best I can do.

To my special friend who commits random acts of kindness for my spawn and me…You are so appreciated and loved. Thank you for remembering her birthday and remembering my broke ass couldn’t even afford brake fluid for the car. You are a stellar person and even the Flying Spaghetti Monster agrees. Pasta deity says it’s true, it’s gotta be!

Now I am signing off, because the hypo mania happy fun pants thing is gonna fade and I’d like to end this post on a…well, happy fun pants note. May you britches bring you giggles and good times way longer than my happy pants mood swings do for me.

Savage Wednesday

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on August 2, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Why savage? Had a neighbor kid knocking on my door at 7:50 a.m. wanting to play with Spook. That kid was here yesterday at 9:15 a.m. and I thought, are these parents savages, letting these kids run from morning til well after dark? I swear I don’t have a stick in my ass, I am not *that* uptight, proper proper parent. Just…decorum. Surely manners aren’t a thing of the past? Am I really so old I’ve acquired a stick up my ass? Just..MANNERS. You don’t come knocking before ten a.m., you don’t come knocking after dark. Just the other day one of those kids was out at 9:30 at night wanting Spook to play. And of course, with my follower mentality child, she plays the “other kids get to” card constantly and nothing I say to these kids or their parents makes a difference. My idget dad says, “Get out of the trailer park”, as if that solves all. Because only shitty parents and kids live in a trailer park? What are you saying about me and your granddaughter here, daddy dearest? Idget.

I found myself in a slump last night after a day of refererring my kid’s drama with her ‘friends’, always crying about them being rude but going back for more. She complains about being bullied then seeks out the very kids ‘bullying her’. Talk about unclear on a concept. Personally, back when I was actually being bullied and spit on, I went out of my way to avoid those assholes, not seek them out for more abuse. Then again, I was never a follower and I was content to do my own thing alone. My kid…Nope. Last night I just kinda snapped and found myself raising my voice because she simply would not listen, she kept screaming at me for making her come in at 7:45 p.m., then she waited til I was in the shower and demanded to be fed, then I told her to get in the shower cos she was filthy and that instigated another scene (bathing this child has been a fight from the word go)…I realized I’d been 12 hours without a Xanax, that is usually when I start snapping and letting her get to me, so I took my night dose and chilled.

Then came the guilt for raising my voice (yeah, cos that’s absolutely the worst a parent can do) and compounding it was having watched Terminator 2 over the weekend and hearing Linda Hamilton’s character talk about how the Terminator would never shout at her son…Geeze, I’m worse than a killing machine??? That is how scumbag brain operates, though, magnifying every graceless parental moment I have yet giving me zero credit when I get it right. That’s what societal programming does, it makes you feel like shit for mistakes, has zero forgiveness, and gives zero credit.

So…After last night’s slump, I went to bed before ten p.m. and thought between Xanax and melatonin,it’d keep me down. Ha. I woke four times, every time wondering if my money would come through so I could get some smokes. (Yeah, yeah, fucked up priorities, shitty mom) but also nagging was not having a phone. For MY convenience, mind you, not anyone else’s. Having a phone is pretty important when you have a child, especially with school starting. And since Safelink replaced my old phones twice they wouldn’t replace another (only one of those was my fault, my mom broke the other one when I loaned it to her and she jammed the charger in wrong and broke the port) so I had to cough up the money…It weighs heavy. I woke again at six and held my breath while checking my balance on line. And Yay. Money. I was gonna go back to sleep but scumbag brain was having none of it. Woke my kid at six thirty and out we went.

Gas in the car, breakfast for her, smokes for me, and a trip to Hell-Mart. I resentfully bought vaccum belts and bags and the pricey herbal lice treatment because damn it, if she’s gonna be at that pony party this weekend I wanna make sure I have covered all my bases and this stuff kills lice and eggs so all I have to do is comb her out…Then came the pain of a new phone (thirty bucks is hardly an iphone but, still, money I don’t have to spare) and I got her a few birthday thingies she picked out plus two new outfits for school…For once I didn’t have a meltdown at Wal-mart, but at 7 a.m., it’s kind of a ghost town and I like that.

Then we came home and in went lice spray and the laundry mill started again. I need to fix the vacuum and do that, in addition to swatting away the neighbor kids who, even when told by an adult, “she can’t play until this afternoon”, keep coming around…GRR. Stupid people irk me. And I am sorry if that offends, but really. Even children can grasp the word ‘no’ even if they don’t like it. It amazes me how every man I have every been with finds me this terrifying emasculating bitch beast and yet children don’t fear me enough to respect me, at all. I may as well have “welcome mat” printed on my head for all they pay attention to me. Then again, I am terrified to be too stern because then the brawler parents get involved and panic disorder does not allow for confrontation, let alone neighbor wars. Already have two kids banned from playing with Spook and frankly, I’d feel bad but it’s those damn devil girls and them being out of our lives is a relief, not a punishment for me. Not like they treat Spook any better than the others, either, she was always fighting with them, too. Am I awful being relieved they’re banned from playing with my kid?

Maybe I should get a Terminator to be a nanny and referee. If only.

So..laundry Mt Olympus, wait for the phone to charge so I can get it all transferred, do some math to figure out how to pay for everything when the money simply isn’t there, and maybe at some point scumbag brain will chillax and allow me a moment of peace. Hypomanic bouts aren’t always great when the mania is spinning thoughts as opposed to physical energy and getting things done.

Mania is such a misnomer for hypo episodes. More like “mental go round”, cos my mind keeps spinning round and round and I can’t get off the fucking ride.

Sandman, Interrupted

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on July 28, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

I woke up around 4 a.m. this morning and could not get back to sleep. Which was bizarre because two hours earlier, I got up to use the bathroom and the melatonin had me so sleep logged I nearly nodded off on my feet. My internal clock is seriously broken.

Suffice it to say, interrupted sleep is always annoying but this time, I got downright agitated which turned into anger. The kittens were climbing all over, then one of them peed on me (they became outside cats today, cute is not worth all the damned cleaning involved in trying to litter train cats that were born outdoors) so I had to clean up and change bedding. By that time I’d taken more melatonin and a half mg of Xanax but my brain was spinning. And my kid woke and got into bed with me and wanted to chat endlessly about her plans for the day with her friends so that got me more stressed. I pondered if maybe I woke because I was in bed before ten p.m. but then again, it was after ten thirty last I looked at the clock so that isn’t really going too bed too early, is it? I thought perhaps my normal calming background noise of TV shows was preventing a return to sleep so I shut out all lights and sound.

Didn’t help. I was hot, I was cold. I covered up, uncovered, tossed, turned. The sky was lightening as it neared 5:30 a.m. and I am not one who can sleep easily unless it is dark. Of course, my dollar store sleep masks have the skinny straps so I can’t find any of them and I have about ten. (My kingdom for a decent damned sleep mask with a wide strap so it will stay in place during sleep!) I took another melatonin and kept swearing and tossing and sitting up and using the e-cig in hopes a puff or two would mellow out the agitation. Come to find out, a yapping child is very much part of the agitation as are clawing climbng yowling kittens. I kicked the cats out, told her to go to sleep, and by seven a.m. I finally nodded off…only to wake a few more times for various reasons which got me agitated all over again.

I am screwed when it comes to sleep disturbance. I can’t hack the script sleeping pills, they render me a drooling corpse for 12 hours with a 6 hour hangover for the day. Melatonin takes awhile to kick in, doesn’t keep me down and sometimes also triggers drooling zombie shuffle. Guess it’s a good thing I don’t require that absurd 8 or 9 hours a night of sleep that ‘normal’ people do. I just know when I am this stressed courtesy of kids and finances and cats…sleep is my refuge and to have insomnia rob me of that small sense of peace….

pisses me the fuck off.

Least my kid slept until nine, so I wasn’t forced into functionality too soon, got another ninety minutes-ish.

She’s been friending for four hours now and driving me nuts running in and out, yelling from outdoors expecting me to come running, bickering, narcing on her friends yet being not bright enough to just come inside and avoid the monsters…This is why my days seem so damned long, it’s just rinse, lather, repeat. My kingdom for a kid who sits in front of a TV for hours and is happy about it.Well, during summer anyway, cos it’s fucking bullshit I get stuck running a free daycare and refererring while all these other lazy parents do fuck all to take care of their own kids. These parents are so bad, a ten year old was picking lice nits out of a 5 year old’s hair and the parents were just letting this kid with active lice run around free. FFS. Even my lazy depressed ass isn’t that bad.

If anything, I think I am getting better as a parent. Spook’s friend INVITED HERSELF to stay the night last night and I said no and Spook said, “Text her mom yes, it’s two to one because we want her to stay.” I don’t think so, bratty pants. This coddling of the snowflakes is what has lead to teenagers too lazy to take out trash or wash a dish yet still they want their smart phones and their video game systems and they want rides to socialize and they want whatever asinine trend that costs the most money…

I’m going full on bitch mom to keep that from happening to Spook. If I don’t cute adorable purring kittens slack, I won’t be doing it for my kid. Frankly, she’s got everyone thinking she’s too cute to be as poorly behaved as I say, I am the ONLY person telling her the truth and giving her a reality check. She may stress me out with her constant need to play but I finally have my house back, I make them stay outside and that is how it’s going to stay. Once I found out THEIR parents don’t let my kid come in for a drink of water or to even use the bathroom…My door closed real fast. Play fair or get the fuck away from me. The parents, not the kids. Though the kids could get away from me and go take a basic manners class or something. Yeah, yeah, I swear, I’m hostile, I’m impatient…I still know to say please and thank you, sir and ma’am, I don’t invite myself places, I don’t demand other people give me their food so I will be their friend, and I sure as hell don’t let my kid parade around with active lice to infest a dozen other kids. Basic. Manners.

Gotta have a license to fish but any idget can be a parent.

3.more.weeks. School starting used to be the bane of my existence and now it is my saviour. Life is funny that way.