Archive for the parenting Category

Mom Fail A Million And Counting

Posted in anxiety, depression, parenting with tags , , , , , , , , , on December 19, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I managed to get to town today to fetch my kid’s gift from the summer camp people…

And only on the way back about 4 miles…

did it occur to me…


And between buying her Christmas, trying to keep the heat on, my ass trash bank hitting me with 3 months’ ‘service fees’ at once and gas in the car…I have 22 cents in the bank.

There I thought I was doing so well.

Someone pointed out I could use newspaper. Um, I can’t afford the subscription so I have no newspaper.

I asked my family if they had any to spare or could lend me ten bucks…

No go.

So I guess come Christmas morning, she will have gifts but they won’t be wrapped. 😦

I am agitated with myself, getting so caught up in all the stress and drama and good intentions, which frankly, mean fuck all when your brain is ten thousand leagues under the sea of depression.

I know I pondered buying wrapping paper a few times, then thought, nah, I have time.

What I did not see coming was the delay on my heat assistance grant and all those bank fees. I mean, I leave $20 in the account for ‘just in case’ then my bank basically drains the account for ‘service fees’ for three months. WTF? Not even a head’s up about it.I go to check my balance and woohoo, 22 cents.

I am thoroughly disgusted with myself.

I suppose it’s a snotty ‘first world problem’ and I should count all the blessings we have but Spook specifically asked this year that her gifts be wrapped and not all just piled into a couple of giftbags. (What can I say, I suck at wrapping and I phone it in, I suck.)

Since she has been so harsh on me lately with her behavior and cruel words, the thought of failing her again has me very stressed.

How could I forget something so basic?

My brain really could use cruise control, like cars have. So it’d run a constant rate of speed instead of being all over the damn place resulting in me doing things or not doing them all willy nilly.

Hope Spook forgives me. Doubtful. She still brings up me not walking her to the bus stop on ice when she was 5.

Kid is a master at holding grudges. Which means I am gonna be on a perpetual guilt trip between her, my dad, and my mom.

I want a new travel agent.

More Space Invasion

Posted in anxiety, parenting with tags , , , , , , , , on June 9, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

My kid got back from her outing safely. Unfortunately, she brought her new friend with her and they just left him here without asking if it was okay with me. It wasn’t. I know my kid and going back to getting up early means she is going to need an early bedtime so all the stuff we’ve been doing leisurely and later on, like supper and bathing, need done sooner. Now I have this kid in my living room, sniffling cos he is allergic to my wax melt, the sun was burning him, the bugs were eating him, and he wants me to buy him Minecraft when I don’t have a cent to me damn name. WTF? Oh and he was touching my TV, trying to use the remote. Arghhh, it’s a violation! And the remote doesn’t work. I do not miss this aspect of my kid being popular.

I know you have to make sacrifices for your kids but c’mon. Her company should not traumatize me and trigger my disorders. I am feeling very…assaulted here. I am trying not to let the disorders win but it helps IF PEOPLE DON’T TOUCH MY STUFF OR INVADE MY SPACE DUE TO THEIR WHINY ISSUES.

Ok, that was mean. I’m a whine and cheese chick myself, sorta. But still…who the hell raises these kids? They all come in my house first time and start helping themselves to food and remotes asking for the wifi password…RUDE. If my kid does that, I ground her. You respect other people’s stuff and their homes and space. No one is teaching this new generation respect. Oh my god, I am one sentence from screaming get off lawn.

But man, this kid is pushing me. I won’t let them play in her room cos she hasn’t cleaned it in a week and she knows the discipline for that is no one can see her room til it’s picked up. Yet he keeps pressuring her and asking me even though I said no ten times. I feel like a grouchy monster but how many times do you have to assert yourself in your own home before you are heard? I am trying real hard not to let my issues interfere with her normal-ish childhood but man, I am struggling like someone in concrete boots trying to stay above the water.

I have to wonder if the Abilify is making me grumpy because I am so laden with this akathisia and I am tense and wound tightly. I bet he goes home with some horror stories about how grumpy I am. And how messy my house is. And ya know what? Fuck it. Let them all talk, let the landlord evict us. I am exhausted from struggling, anyway. Like hospitalization tired except I don’t want to have to admit next time I renew my driver’s license and they ask LOUDLY, IN FRONT OF EVERYONE, HAVE BEEN IN A PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL IN THE LAST FIVE YEARS?
How humiliating that they do it in front of a packed DMV. And it kind of violates your healthcare privacy rights, too.

I feel like I am on a downward spiral. Trying to explain to people why I am all twitchy and shit is embarrassing. Especially since they are the anti psych med crowd. This is an extreme side effect which I should have known would happen since it did the first time I tried Abilify but I was willing to keep an open mind and hope maybe this time it would take minus icky side effects. It was a failed experiment. Question is now, will the NP refill my 10 mg or insist I stay on the 15 til my next appointment? By which point I will have itched myself bloody and been committed to a rubber ramada because I am acting so hinky.

14 minutes and I am sending the kid home. I hope they don’t want me to drive him. I hate being responsible behind the wheel for other people’s kids. It’s too much responsibility. (Oh geesh, now he’s pressuring her to make me buy her an X Box, like we can even afford internet.) I need this to end. Be gone. He just asked if he has to whisper here. Wow, I am a bitch beast.

He started it, touching my stuff and invading my space.

When the anxiety riots, maturity is out the fucking window.