Archive for anxiety

In My Dreams

Posted in bipolar disorder with tags , , , on August 17, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

So normally my sporadic sleep and dreams result in me not to wake up even when the dreams are particularly nasty.

Last night…Nope. I had this hella nightmare where I went to see the doc nurse and she just tweaked my Xanax without regard to my Trintellix and sent me on my way so I demanded to see Dr. B and flung myself on his desk and begged for him to be my doctor again. Which of course lead to them all having a chat and declaring me batshit and needing locked down. And I was pounding against the plexi glass at the looney bin screaming that I was not a danger to myself or others, I just MISS my doctor who actually makes me feel like more than a checklist of symptoms. I was screaming that I HAD to be out because I needed to take my kid to some function and how dare they put me in a position of letting her down just because I spoke my mind…

And then it got better as the shrink, the one I like, took me and Spook on this supervised outing and…at the end of the night, he and doctor nurse got together and decided, based on the word of those around me, that I was suicidal and they took my kid and locked me back up and all I’d ever done was the usual sarcastic “I wanna drink bleach rather than go to this family shindig”….

If dreams mean anything, I think this one means I should keep my true thoughts to myself lest they lock me up. Even a 24 hour hold could make me look like an unfit mother and honestly, I know my stepmonster would be all too happy to step forward and agree and take my kid away. I know this because she’s told people as much. And if it were a matter of my kid going hungry or being beaten, fine. But because my house isn’t spic and span and I don’t have a surplus of money..those are not reasons you call someone an unfit parent.

Or am I projecting my own fears?

When she got back from church last night, I was informed there was an incident on the bus where Spook just wanted the other kids to be quiet, which even the grown ups agreed with, but when the others failed to listen to Spook and obey…she screamed, ‘FINE, I AM GONNA GO HOME AND TAKE 4 MELATONIN AND KILL MYSELF!”

I was horrified. And pretty sure melatonin won’t kill you by itself. I keep all pills out of her reach, anyway, and only meter out the bedtime dose, APPROVED BY THE PEDIATRIC NURSE PRACTITIONER. I have never told her or anyone, out loud, aside from psych professionals, about any inclination toward an overdose on pills. Gargling razor bloods, drinking bleach, juggling chainsaws…NEVER a word about pills. If anything, I discourage her from taking anything even tylenol, because I know what a hell the medi go round is.

I can’t say this is the first time she’s said something about killing herself. She does it often enough for it to worry me, but it is almost exclusively related to people telling her no or disagreeing with or stressing her out and she comes out of it pretty fast then wonders what the problem even was. Sound familiar to any bipolars?

I’m gonna see about counseling for her, but god knows what she will tell them. And I watch enough TV to know half of the psych professionals are just as fucked in the head as the rest of us and everyone’s opinion varies so one person’s unfit is called my upbringing which I thought compared to other kids wasn’t too damned shabby. These days it’d be called neglect and abuse. Then again, these days, not giving the snowflakes an iphone makes you a bad parent.

I am not taking her outburst lightly, but at the same time…She may be getting this drama from TV or her friends or whatever, but I know it’s not coming from me. Others won’t believe this, of course, it’s always the sanity challenged who take the blame, but the one thing I know better than any of them…is my kid’s manipulations and tantrums. Once she was home and off that bus, order restored mentally, meaning no excess noise…she was right as rain. Again, that tune sounds familiar. I may not threaten to off myself when the noise overwhelms but coming undone and only regaining equilbrium once the chaos has ended…I definitely know that tune.

So that is what I am dealing with today. Wondering how long before some well meaning person turns me into child protective because my kid is a drama llama and a compulsive liar. She evens lies about her lies when caught red handed and has no qualms. I feel guilty for hitting a possum, ffs, so lack of conscience, once again…not coming from me. Something is wrong with her and I will try to get her help and get if figured out because yeah, they DO put 8/9 year olds in juvenile psych ward-prison places as my sister’s friend’s son found out this year when he hit his teacher the third time. But wait, I can’t do shit until after her well kid check up in September because her dad’s insurance only pays for one a year and I need the ped doc’s referral for therapy or a shrink but first Spook will have to see the nurse practitioner who will then have to refer to the actual doctor…

Fucking ridiculous.

Plus side, I worked out my deal with the power company so they will keep the juice on and I won’t be in debtor’s court. I am sweeping up bug corpses which means the treatment is slowly working its magic. Speaking of sweeping, I need a new broom. I was bashing the twitchy not quite dead bugs so hard, mine broke in half yesterday. (Bring on the jokes about how did I ever get my kid to school without my broomstick.)

Okay. Purge complete. I think I see doc nurse tomorrow. After last night’s dream…Not sure how honest to be, even if I keep my cool. Truth can set you free or get you locked up, if dreams mean anything.

It sucks have the Marquis de Sade for a brain. Daily torture is so not my thing.

Gloom Mongered

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , on August 16, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Slept 4 and a half hours then woke, terrified I’d miss the alarm for my kid’s first day back to school cos, hello, smart phone, dumb Morgue…That anxiety ate away at me so I took .25mg of Xanax and right as the hamster wheel started to slow down…Spook-in-the-box pops up and can’t get back to sleep because she was nervous and excited about school. Which meant neither of us got back to sleep, she had her new clothes on and hair done by 5 a.m. I’d hoped even for a power nap but it didn’t happen then. I was relieved to drop her at school because her enthusiasm was killing me. Hypo and depression both HATE enthusiasm so it’s hard to know which cycle I am actually in.

The texting chihua got called back to his ‘real ‘ job, after working three days last week, then off two days, now he’s back and he was on me about the shop. And all I wanted was my first true kid free day in months and I texted back a little snarky, plus the bug treatment has me sweeping up corpses constantly before the cats can eat them and be poisoned…But because I do need his expertise with automobiles and of course, my heat will need fixed again come winter…I sucked it up and agreed to do four hours even though it pissed me off but the guilt was worse. I mean, he’s working two jobs and I’m gonna whine about a few hours of essentially sitting on my ass and occasionally helping hoist a TV in or out?

Guilt fucking sucks ass.

This morning I went home, feeling absolutely shitty from lack of sleep and finally when I got in the power nap…it lasted 20 minutes before my gloom spewing father called. And so my self esteem went further down the septic tank, my guilt skyrocketed, and my anxiety turned into an acid burning stomach ache. YAY. I dared defend the ONE good part of the ACA regarding pre-existing conditions and he launched into how he’s retired and still works and they take all his money to cover people who don’t pay taxes and (gee, who could he be pointing that finger at?) and he was up on his soapbox thumping his chest like the gloom mongering ass trash he is.

It isn’t that he doesn’t have a point. The system is broken and things need fixed. No one should shell out 70% of monthly income to have health insurance (which they can’t even use because it covers such a small percentage)…But hey, no soapbox here, my stomach is still churning from my dad’s preaching and guilting.

To add to it, new family drama. After the ugly split with my nephew and his fiance, I guess my sister moved in her stoner friends and the girl’s mother and they are all boo hooing over losing Medicaid cos my nephew turned 19 and isn’t in school and of course, the girl living with them is such a stoner she packs around selling weight and I don’t want my kid anywhere near it but then that starts war with my mom because hey, I drink alcohol, so it’s totally the same. Not to mention the sickly stoner’s mom is living in the living room with a porta potty right there so where is my kid supposed to play? With the porta potty or upstairs with the people holding pot or down in the basement smoking it?

So sick of the fucking drama. If I could just move far far away it wouldn’t be an issue. If I could just shake this fucking bipolar monkey and get a damned job and if my brain would just fucking behave and if, if, if…

Nothing like a good chat with dear old dad to bring the bad thoughts to the surface and remind me, apparently, even my own father considers me useless and I should just kill myself rather than his tax dollars pay for my disability because obviously there is nothing wrong with me EXCEPT I HAVE THE BRAIN FUNCTION OF A CARROT HALF THE TIME AND EITHER BURST INTO TEARS OR SARCASTIC ANGER OVER THE STUPIDEST SHIT! All a choice, of course, we all choose to feel this way. Because it’s fun and makes you feel good about yourself.

Bloody hell.

So in addition to being at the shop with a burning stomach ache, I can feel myself going down the rabbit hole which was tugging but thanks to dad, it’s yanking me downward.

I really want the mouse pad that is a target that says “bang head here.”

Don’t Stop, Don’t Go

Posted in depression with tags , , , on August 15, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

It’s that inertia that accompanies the start of a depression after you experienced a stable period, brief as it may have been. In a matter of 3 weeks I cycled from feeling better and venturing out of my bedroom crypt, the only place I truly feel safe, but now…

I am right back in the crypt and I am fighting it. I mean, I got dressed, we ran out into the dish, and I’m not even freaking out about the school family night tonight. Twenty minutes tops, meet the teacher, dump the supplies in her new desk, and home again. Then back to a sane routine with school starting. I got this.

Except…I wonder if I really do.

That tug of darkness is pulling and I am lashing out and screaming at it but I am trapped in don’t stop, don’t go land. Inertia. Stalemate. I see all I need to do. I WANT to get it done. But my mental state is simply crippling me and I have no idea why. Except maybe how drastically the weather has changed, we went from barely needing a top sheet at night to getting out our thick winter bedspreads because it gets so chilly at night. For the midwest, this is an anomaly, one that makes me ponder the credibility of all this global warming and climate change. How can I battle the seasonal depression if the seasons keep shifting so often and abruptly? And how can I make any real progress when I am feeling my psych care is so compromised by an inexperienced nurse practitioner whose sole purpose seems to be filling out computer checklists and calling in scripts?

Which, mind you, she couldn’t even get right because my pharmacist even said she was going to call the doctor nurse about my Trintellix, which doc nurse prescribed in ten mg to be split in half for 5 mg a day. Guess what? Even with a splitter they disintegrate so the dosage is always iffy. Now if it’s available in 5mg and even the pharmacy knows this…why didn’t my psych “professional” do it that way in the first place?

Yeah, yeah, I am bitchy, probably coming down off a hypo episode. Doesn’t make my feelings less authentic.

For now…I can only keep doing battle with the inertia and lurking depression and hope for the best. Who knows, maybe less kid drama will lower my stress and my moods will be less affected. I’m trying that optimism thing but it feels so phony coming from a cynic like me. If there is one thing I hate more than shitty people, it is fake people, I don’t wanna betray myself even if optism makes others around me feel better.

So…maybe lower stress helps, maybe I continue to disintegrate. Either way I am not going gently into that good night. Not that depression gives a rat’s rectum but still…If depression is dragging me down, I’m digging in my nails and I’m gonna leave some nasty claw marks.

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.

Splat Happens

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

It was inevitable after so many consecutive days in the dish being the functional person I am expected to be. It’s why I could never hold a job for more than a few months at a time, even part time, because faking it and the anxiety just tap me out.

Had a decent run, 4 days or so I didn’t feel like dying.

Today has been awful. Instead of running errands while my kid was at church, I lolled in bed til 11 am. Then I got up and took my meds and…lost the lottery and got very ill with neausea and stomach cramps and bathroom trips.

I’d like to say it got better but my mood went Splat when all the kids started bullying Spook (or so she claims, I witnessed nothing other than some mouthing off about who was going to play with who and of course, the tweens and teens are always gonna ditch the 8 year old, cruel but true.) I started feeling incompetent as a parent. My mood went splat, and the dark thoughts crept in and are still hanging around.

I was even gonna let my kid have a friend sleepover as a before back to school treat. Instead that girl, who is ten, fell victim to all the rumors the older girls were saying (we have lice, fleas, bedbugs, etc) and suddenly she had to go home. Odd how she spent 7 nights here over the summer with no complaint about any of that shit but the second a teenager she wants to fit in with says it…Spook and I go under the bus.

By then all the drama had given my a migraine complete with more nausea to go with my lingering med nausea and I was grateful the girl went home. Enough with the drama and stress.

Early bedtime tonight. Brain needs a reboot and hopefully tomorrow will be better. As long as R doesn’t beckon and expect me to feign this functionality thing again. I can feel the seasonal affective disorder settling in even if the psych professionals say it doesn’t start this soon. Every August for years since having my kid, I’ve warned the docs the meds need tweaked cos I could feel the seasonal splat coming (my knees start aching when there’s an abrupt weather shift and 98 degrees one week down to the sixties the next week…Yeah, knee ache city.) Every year I warn them, every year they ignore me until October when it’s too late because I’m already half way down the rabbit hole.

I am gonna try to advocate for myself when I see nurse doctor next. But if the splat decline keeps going, I may well be a basketcase by then and all this progress made on Trintellix will have been undone because others expect more of me than I can safely give without it costing me tremendously psychiatrically.

Fort Blankie time as soon as I tuck in the spawn. Sometimes when your mind gets this blackened..all you can do is retreat and reboot and hope it’s a cyclothymic low that will shift upward after some rest.

I can’t spend much more time with a brain sending me such bleak self abusive thoughts. That sadist Fifty Shades of Grey character could learn a few things about cruelty and torture from my brain.

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.

THIS IS A NOT ANOTHER SCAMPAIGN.

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.

The REAL question is WHY DON’T THE MASSES REALIZE THEY ARE ON THE CHOPPING BLOCK TOO AND FEEL TERRIFIED?

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….

LONG LIVE THE TYPOS AND THE TIN FOIL COVERED TENTACLES.

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.

NO MORE BUGS, HELP!!!!

Why I am trying to Raise Money

Posted in gofundme campaign, mental health with tags , , , , , , on August 10, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

For those unfamiliar with my plight, I am going to repost my original post frommy Go Fund Me page.

SINGLE MOM BEING BUGGED

I am a single mom trying to get by on limited income. I rent and my landlord won’t pay to exterminae the place. I have used EVERY product known to man, at my own cost, and still the roaches and assorted other ickies return. Two years ago, I had finally gotten it under control then my neighbors moved out because they couldn’t handle the bugs they had. I begged the landlord to at least spray a line between our homes to keep their bugs from moving in with me and my child. He did not do it and here I am again.
With school starting, summer power bills, treating the cats for fleas, food costs…I just don’t have the money for extermination as local companies require you sign a 12 month contract and that adds up to more each month than I can afford without my kid going hungry. I am asking for help because I am embarrassed for anyone to visit lest a roach come creeping out. Not all people who get roaches are unkempt slobs. These bugs were here from the moment we moved in and nothing I do helps because the landlord has high turnover and any time someone moves out, their bugs come to my home.

I could probably suffer til I manage to save up, but I am terrified my lack of money could result in someone saying I am an unfit parent and my kid lives in an unfit home. My daughter is my life and she deserves to be able to get a cup out of the cabinet with a bug jumping on her. Even if you can spare five dollars, it adds up. Please help if you can’t or at least spread the word on social media. This is humiliating and I am using what over the counter products I can but none of them eliminate the nest and….

We simply need help.

So that is our story. We don’t want the money for superfluous reasons. We need it to improve our home’s liveability. I have tried to do my best as a single, disabled mother with limited resources, I never asking for assistance that wasn’t absolutely necessary for my child or keeping a roof overhead. It pains me to ask for help even now but the problem is just getting worse so even if you can only spare five bucks.. Your help is appreciated.

Here’s the link again.

Even a repost or social media share can make a difference if you’re in the same boat as me financially. Thanks for reading this.