Archive for gofundme

It’s All About The Birthday Girl

Posted in depression, fundraiser with tags , , , , , on July 22, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

I will spare the usual rant except to say…I’m going under here battling depression, anxiety, and how deeply in debt the move and all has made me. This isn’t about me. This is about her. A sneak peak at the page to show that this time it’s different, not my babbling. I was too scatter brained to start a new page, so only $10 for Spook has been raised thus far. We are grateful for every act of kindness, every click of the share button.

Click either pic to go to the actual page to donate or share. Thanks.

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Survival Of The Scared Shitless

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , , , , on July 20, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Well, I had a couple of ‘decent’ days. Spook and I had a decent prepaid meal at the park the other day.
She managed to eat two cheesesticks before declaring that she was bored and it all sucked. I enjoyed it, but then, I’m used to boredome and everything sucking, I truly do appreciate the gift of a pizza Mr. M bestowed upon us. Made me feel kinda….ugh, hopeful, like perhaps I’m not a complete waste of space.

I had two days of being functional. I swept, mopped, did laundry, cleaned cat boxes…which is difficult for me as every part of me feels coated in dried concrete 24-7. I treasure the days I am in the mind frame-and body-to get shit done. I wish I felt that way more often. Some people are all too happy to give advice on what works for them and makes them a high functioning superhero but…sadly, it’s never worked that way for me.

Today seemed not so bad but then SPLAT. I learned that my sister got slapped with an old bill from our old address and it damaged her credit rating. I was paying on the bill (I thought) albeit slowly, only to learn…I was using the wrong account number and paying on a bill that belonged, well to The One Who Shall Not Be Named. I fucked up, big time, and I am humiliated and now on the family shit list and further in the hole. I will fix it, I made the mistake (however unintentional) because my sister was helping us by putting that bill in her name when we found ourselves abandoned and fucked on that front…My last wish was to do something to screw her over but…here we are. And of course, she will tell the entire family, so I will be persona non grata and maybe that’s what I deserve for being a screw up. I could make a dozen excuses and explanations and they’d all be valid, honest, and for real. It doesn’t change anything though. Until I fix it, I am gonna be on the ‘evil bitch’ shitlist with the entire family. And even then, I’ll remain there as her credit as impacted.

The level of embarrassment and shame are enormous. Worse, my kid is staying at their house tonight so who knows what venom they’re spewing to her about me. I’ll have to pick her up and face their wrath and since I am mid-curse, hormonal, and have to also face the donor in court Monday…It will be a miracle if I don’t end up on lockdown in hard restraints. I am just to that point where I have tried so damned hard and I still can’t get it right or be cool, calm, and collected…and I am not whining, I own my screw up, but my precarious mental state kind of goes without saying. In my family, “sorry” and “I will fix it” count for nothing. Everyone is out to tear everyone down. And it is infuriating because my sister has been married to “Beavis” for 20 years, he doesn’t work, doesn’t even mow the damned lawn, and she thinks the sun shines out of his ass.

He idolizes Hitler and Charles Manson, and in a way, that’s how I view him. He’s so charismatic, to a certain faction of gamers and wanna be bikers, he has people willing to pay for weekend white water rafting trips and they loan him $10,000 Harleys to drive but he can’t be bothered to help around the house, EVER, and while he can always wheel and deal for money to take care of their cats or get weed and Marlboros, he’s never given a damn if his kid had no milk for cereal or the whole house was starving. I have nursed my dislike and resentment for 20 years, trying to respect my sister and her ‘he’s my true love, no one else gets me him like I do” but…Honestly, what kind of dickbag has his son come home all proud that he made the honor roll and says, “So what, anyone can make the honor roll these days.” And pretty much EVERYONE in the family hates him, but his mom owns the house my sis and mom and nephew live in, so of course, all lips kiss the ass of the queen. Who enables Beavis to do nothing and yet my sister is constantly having to clean our dad;s house to earn money for food….

So yeah, I fucked up and I will fix it, and I feel positively like shit, but what about that fucking lump? No one holds him accountable, ever, and she preaches his awesomeness and he has a dozen friends who all but worship him but then, that’s his base, the fellow people who when fired from a job sign their final paycheck “fuck you”. So I wouldn’t want to really be accepted in that crowd because, well, douchebaggery isn’t cool even if it is prevalent. So’s Katy Perry and Lady Gaga on the radio, doesn’t make it right or mean I have to endure it.

I’m sure it all sounds too stupid to be true and I just sound bitter cos I fucked up and now I have to own it, but I was feeling this way long before today. Beavis dared to say something about how I don’t take good care of my cats since we had to rehome some of them due to the move and my brain about popped out of my skull. Those cats went to live on like ten acres of farm land where they are fed and watered twice a day and have tons of room to roam and catch mice. I didn’t rehome them out of choice but at least I had the decency to make sure they went to a good place where they’d be cared for. The man has homed several strays I found over the years and they’re all healthy and plump. So to have that p.o.s who doesn’t do a damned thing but play video games all night and piss into empty soda bottles kind of sent over the edge. I’m not making him a caricature like some Mike Judge cartoon, he really is just that….awful. And I hate feeling that way because I love my sister and I don’t want it to come between us, we’ve always been pretty close and on cool footing. But I can’t help but feel the way I do and I’ve felt that way for 20 years. My turning point was when they were doing meth and he actually took her dentures, put them in the toilet and pissed on them. Maybe she can forgive that shit, but man, I’d probably be in prison if he’d done that to me cos I’d have bashed his head against the toilet.

BREATHE.

I’ve never given my blog link to anyone I know in person because years ago, I made that mistake and my sister read some of my thoughts on our fucked up family and she was very hurt and didn’t speak to me for awhile. I don’t want that but bottling it up is poisoning me. Besides…her and mom were pretty smug about knowing from the get that the donor was a fake who would walk out on me and Spook. They have their judgments, same as me. Difference is, I admitted they were right when they were proven right. I’ve been proven right a hundred times about Beavis but I end up being the villain. So much for self awareness and objectivity. I don’t need to be loved that much that I would put up with that shit. If a guy wants to be a house husband and stay home to do housework and child care while the woman works to make money, cool. But a guy who makes the woman work and take care of the kid and take care of the house while he plays video games and rides motorcycles with his wanna be MC…Just writing it makes me need to vomit.

Anyway…Before this all happened…I was having mega anxiety attacks because I realized…OMFG, Spook’s 9th birthday is August 7th. Plus she needs some school clothes plus school supplies…and I can’t do it all and keep the bills paid and now I have this new thing on me….So survival of the fittest and the scared shitless. YEP, another fundraiser. But this one….Just check it out, it’s short and sweet and based on Spook’s own words. I get bogged down with her defiance and anger but the other day when her little friend was here and acting up, she tried to calm him and said, “Listen to my mom. She’s a good mom.”

It’s those little moments you live for, but if I want to keep the power on, it’s not going to get her a Minecraft cake. This one matters a lot, guys, it’s for a little girl who never asked for any of this. She just wants to have a happy birthday and go to school wearing clothes without stains and holes. With all the mindless political fundraisers going on out there..surely a 9 year old girl is worth a $5 donation. Not for me. For Spook.

Pretty please with pegacorn vomit and unicorn farts on top?

Mother’s Day, Fundraising, Hypomania, And Soft Kitty,Warm Kitty

Posted in fundraiser, mental health with tags , , , , , , on May 11, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Share if you care, it costs you nothing but a click on social media

YEP. Another fundraiser. But before you exit the page, would you let me explain how I have the gall to ask perfect strangers for help?

EVERYTHING I DO IS FOR HER.

Spook is the only thing I’ve truly gotten right in my life. Maybe my domestic fairytale didn’t work out as planned, and it’s been a financial clusterfuck courtesy of my own limitations and her donor’s…dumbfuckery…But I don’t regret her for an instant. She is the best of me and the worst of me and loved so very much. Sure, I vent because she’s difficult and stressful but…yeah, that’s my karma cos I got a mini-me. (R.I.P Original Mini-Me, Vern Troyer, hope you found peace, dude.)

So learning that the donor is apparently switching jobs and leaving us in a child support lurch indefinitely…I started another fundraiser, with a modest goal, and we got our first donation this morning! We are so very grateful to the kind soul whose simple act of generosity means we can afford household necessities for a week or two. You are amazing.

And I get it if you’re in a similar boat and can’t donate. But many of you are very active on social media and you could share our story with a click, costing you nothing. It’s still a big ask, but I’ve got a little girl counting on me since I am the only parent she has that gives a damn. I may have given birth, but I had to EARN this.

Sorry I didn’t do a neat presentation but I gotta roll with my current half ass hypomanic state before it pulls a David Copperfield and vanishes. Point is…that little girl may give me hell, but she adores me and counts on me. And I am doing my very best. I even tried to get a summer babysitting job, but alas, the woman went with someone else. I’m not unwilling to make the effort but you can’t point guns at people and demand they allow you to work for money. And I’m not on board with pointing guns at people just demanding they give me money, that’s a felony, I think. Besides…if I could afford a gun, I’d go pawn the damn thing.

Please.

Just a share means the world to us.

$500 is the goal I set for these impending, necessary expenses: $325 security deposit (to avoid eviction, which he would be within his rights to do.) $48 car insurance (it will be canceled before my next check comes in if not paid by the 28th.) $100 for gas, household supplies, pet supplies, and a little wiggle room because the move meant losing my library privileges in town. It costs $60 for non residents and since I can’t afford to buy books or well, even go out, reading library books is my one luxury. And yeah, it’s sad that reading and libraries are considered a luxury, living in this town feels more like a punishment than anything because of lack of access to everything cerebral and civilized. I wish flannel and farm machinery popped my rocks but, alas, I want books to read.

I would love to raise a little more than our goal so I could buy a used desktop computer. Both of mine died during the move but they were so old, they still had 3.5 inch floppy disk drives, so I think they served their time well. It’s just difficult to commit to my serious writing on a laptop because I live in terror of overheating them. My last tower cost $55 on ebay so it’s not like I am a spoiled brat. The current laptop I am writing this on was a freebie someone abandoned at the shop and my nephew reformatted it. My other laptop is XP and the fan is broken. There’s no pampered princess thing going on here, just function.

Survival is the goal. Not letting down my kid until I can work something out. There can’t just be one person in this armpit who needs a sitter or housekeeper, but as I am still considered an outsider…finding a way to earn some extra may could take time. And pegacorn knows when I’ll be able to pin the donor down again, he has no problem working, he just as an allergy to that paycheck covering part of his child’s upbringing. (Seriously, Canada, if this is the best you have to offer, take him back.) If he keeps changing jobs, he knows by the time I catch up to him he’s done created enough chaos, time to do it again. Oh, well, he helped make a beautiful spawn.

In case you missed it, I’ve gone hypo. I was up til almost 3 a.m. Didn’t take melatonin. Did more housework, packed my kid’s lunch, wrote another post…Did not want to go to sleep because ya know, use it or lose it. But I slept 3 and a half hours and now I am still in hypo mode so I am doing the rambling rapid speech (rapid typing?) shuffle. Apologies, but no apologies. OMG, it’s been so long since I’ve felt this good mentally. It’s not that anything great happened but in spite of it all, my mind is…not in the abyss. I LOVE feeling this good.

So soft kitty, warm kitty. Yeah, who doesn’t love good cat pictures? I am fighting for these three, too, they’re our family.

My crappy camera does not do justice for Godsmack’s gorgeous blue eyes.

Hex is outgrowing her box.

Vex looks heavenward and pleads for it to rain tunafish.

And me, the cat sofa, bed, snuggle post, but fortunately, not the litter box.

Remember…SHARE to show you care. Because as shameful as it is for me to ask for help…I am more afraid that not asking for help is a bigger failure of character. I still believe in the good of people.

And the flying spaghetti monster, totally believe in that, too.

Like Good Causes? Read This Post

Posted in depression, gofundme campaign with tags , , , , , on May 10, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Allow me a bit of narcissism here. My daughter and I ARE a good cause.

So as it turns out, after paying for only 2 months, the donor has left his job and is MIA. The loss of child support has turned a precarious financial situation into a dire predicament for my daughter and I. Just when I thought light of day might be seen…he drop kicks us again. Last time he left a job, it took six months for me to find him and turn him into the state because the employer failed to report him as a new employee.(It’s the law and they broke it but nope, no consequences.) So even if he found a different job as opposed to getting fired like last time, he legally has 30 days without a payment before I can pursue him. And what I learned last time is that even with a legal support order, the state does not actively seek these absentee parents out. They sit and wait for an employer to turn in a social security number then the gears start to slowly grind. If I don’t know where he works and the employer doesn’t turn him in..who knows when my kid will get what is due her.

Even before I had a kid, I had a big problem with parents-men or women- who walked out on their kids and refused to even chip in financially without a court forcing them to do so.

Now that I am on this side of the fence, it infuriates me even more. He’s been 77 months (6.5 years) and of that…he has paid about 15 months of support, and that was only after I waited 4 years, giving him the opportunity to step up and do the right thing. He has two other kids he doesn’t support. Yet he thinks he is a good man and moms are unreasonable asking for support as long as he isn’t seeing the kid. I’d make a snarky comment about the mothers of his children having bad taste in men, but that would negate the joy our kids bring us so I won’t got there. I wish my kid had a great dad, but she doesn’t.

She’s got a devoted mom who has been raising her alone 7 years on a disability income, through good, bad, worse, and worse than worse. I ask for very little assistance, don’t even go to Toys for Tots at Christmas, I just budget more tightly, eat a little less myself, whatever it takes to not take charity if I don’t absolutely have to.

If I am having another fundraiser…it’s because it is necessity.

This isn’t your ordinary fundraiser, though.

Yes, we need cash. But we also know how many scammers are out there telling sob stories so they can afford plasma tvs and partying. Spook and I are just as happy with a $20 gift card to Dollar Tree for stuff like toilet paper and dish soap and shampoo. We’re fine with anyone contacting us by email who’d be willing to make out a money order to a utility or the landlord, account numbers and photo evidence provided. There is no scam here, just a strong, urgent need to survive. And I set the goal low- enough to pay off the security deposit so the landlord can’t evict us and a little more to tide over what my income won’t.

I don’t like doing this. I know readers don’t want to hear about it.

But I gotta try even if like the last fundraiser, it’s an epic failure.

I can’t say we’re the best cause. Hell, if I had money, I’d be donating to save endangered tigers and create no kill animal shelters because those are causes that resonate. I don’t expect our cause will resonate with many. But even if half a dozen people say, hey, this family could use a break…That’s more than we can hope for.

Click here or on the picture.

So help, share, wish us luck…Or unsubscribe, whatever. I’ll make no apologies for trying to keep my family afloat. She is worth more than my pride will ever be.

The Help Us Keep Our Power On And Get Trash Service Fundraiser

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , , , on March 17, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

It was brought to my attention that my fundraiser links weren’t working. Not exactly shocking, I’m using a stupid phone (stupid smart phone, oxymoron?) and I get everything all garbled.

Anyway…this is the working link.

Share, repost, donate- whatever help you’re willing to give…Spook and I are grateful because this situation is distressing. More distressing is the fact that the move was forced on us, otherwise we wouldn’t be in over our heads because we live within our means.

Thanks.

Buried Alive Psychologically

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , on February 26, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

All the ‘get out, you have to move cos we’re jerks punishing you for no reason other than being low income’ stress has been an great distraction from taking a long hard look at my mental state. And I don’t mean great as in, rah rah rah, awesome. I mean, enormous. I have been so busy trying to get blood from a stone and pulling knives from my back just so I can take care of my kid and find us a home…

Now I am starting to worry about myself. Because strong as I am…I am not made of steel and concrete. I am terrified, of this other place falling through, terrified of being considered an unfit mom cos I don’t have much money, and now…Waking at 3:30 a.m. in a full blown panic realizing how little control I have over anything in my life right now…

My mind is going to very dark places and I don’t like it. I thought maybe I’d go to the hellish counseling center today, ask to speak to an on call person, but what good would it do? They think everything is behavior- they are after all ‘a behavior center’ so I could go in vent, cry, and what…walk out feeling worse cos they’ll tell me it’s all situational or my own behavior that’s the problem…That’s just gonna push me one toe closer to the edge of the ledge.

I am buried alive in every way except the kind involving dirt and eternal peace.

Yesterday I had the audacity to say to my dad that, “I just want to start trying to get out from under it all…”

And he said, quote, “Oh, hell you’re never going to get out from under it because it takes money, you don’t have any and you won’t work.”

Excuse me???I won’t work? I have tried and tried and tried. I have pushed suicidal boundaries and staved of homicidal urges trying to overcome my own mental limitations because I do want to work, I do want to do better for my daughter.

To have my own father kick me when I am already down that way…

I just want to go to sleep and wake when this nightmare is over except it’s not a nightmare. This is my new life. Rent that’s 50% of my income, deposits I can’t pay, monthly bills that will leave me lucky to fill a tank of gas to drive to appointments and buy a bag of cat food. I am under because this move to Armpit and this senile landlord were dad’s idea cos both were supposed to save me money and give me and Spook security. Instead it’s made everything so much worse.

And I am trying to keep my chin up, dig my heels in, and say never surrender like Corey Hart but ya know what?

Psychologically, after 5 months without seeing a psych professional, let alone a competent, caring one, and all this stuff hurled at me…I feel like emotional ground beef. And I have tried to transfer it all into angry rants to avoid looking whiny or weak but…

I’ve hit my wall. My disorders are winning. I feel like I’d be better off dead. And I am shouting at that devil and I am not going gently into that good night and I am waving both middle fingers cos I am strong and this will pass but maybe that’s the thing…

The housing thing probably will straighten out and pass.

My mental state and the lack of competent psych care here…That I fear will never get better.

And I am so damned scared I may as well be the 8 year old instead of Spook but it’s the truth. She will never see my crying like I am now and I will never say anything to her except “Hey, it’s scary, but we’re gonna be fine cos we have each other.”

But I am terrified. And I am breaking. I see the new shrink like March 8th but now I don’t even know if I will have enough gas to get from Armpit to town to keep the appointment. And I don’t hold out much hope this one will be any better than the dreadful doc nurse was.

I’m buried alive but some sadistic fuck was kind enough to leave me a straw to breathe through so I can breathe, I just can’t move or escape or….do anything to help myself.

Feeling this way is a sort of death of its own. Death of the soul, last gasps of hope and spirit. And I am still not waving the white flag but I have to wonder…just how many strong intelligent people with their own mental demons refusd to wave that flag and it didn’t do a bit of good.

I know 3 people who didn’t make it out alive.

I don’t want to be one of them. Suicide kills but it’s as illegitimate a death as it is living life with these problems. When I die, I want it to be not because I broke…but because it was simply my time to go. I deserve that much dignity after a lifetime of even my own father running me down like I have no value.

Donate here if you can, please.

How Anxiety And Depression Put Your Life On Hold

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on February 20, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

I’ve often expressed to my doctors how saddened I am by how much of my daughter’s childhood I have missed due to crippling depression and anxiety. Mind you, I’ve been here for her every day since she was in utero. But over 8 years, I have experienced so many depressive bouts and skin crawling anxiety, I fear I have missed my chance to truly bond with her over fun outings. I’ve never taken her to the public pool or a movie (that crowd terror I have.) So many days I am just too low or wound too tightly or frozen with the inertia of it all…I’m not a very fun mom. And it breaks my heart and I really wish the professionals would GET that. None of them really do, though, to them it’s just an excuse or complaint to be taken with a grain of salt.

For me, it’s like seeing my kid’s loving childhood ‘I need mommy” years pass me by and I can never get them back. It is heartbreaking and frustrating. I try so very hard, even on my worst days, I at least try to make her laugh a few times with faked silliness. Before long she will hit double digits and become a tween and I will be little more than an embarrassment to her (as is normal for kids entering that age zone). To look back and see all that depression and anxiety have cost me…The doctors, therapists, and disability powers that be will never in a million years understand how devastating it is, how nothing can ever make up for it.

Today was day 4 with her home from school. We’ve been getting along pretty well. I can’t say I was fun mommy today because I was making calls left and right about finding a place to live and it was just door slam after door slam, either no pets, not available, twice the rent I pay here a third of the space. It’s disheartening, to say the least.

My dad extended a lovely offer. If I come live in his town in one of the properties his friend owns via section 8, they will let me drive their white SUV and put my old heap on auction. Now this sounds great, right???? WRONG. Being under their thumb is worse than dealing with R. It may come down to being imprisoned that way, but I am fighting it tooth and nail. Last person they loaned their vehicle to all they did was gripe about her running back and forth to town (25 miles round trip) and putting mileage on their vehicle. If she took it to go out on a date or to a bar with friends, that offended them, too. They are so controlling, it would be akin to being smothered and buried alive. I wish I were being dramatic. Even my sister said they are just trying to lure me there so they can basically take over my kid and turn her into a little redneck like them. I’ve seen them try so it’s not far fetched. It’s..last resort. Not to mention what those people can’t grasp is that section 8, even with a willing landlord with an open property, takes at least a month to go through, if not longer. I have less than 2 weeks!

My gums hurt from grinding my teeth with anxiety. I haven’t eaten a thing today, I have no appetite. When Spook asks, “Are you sure we’re not gonna be homeless, mommy?” it breaks my heart. No, we’re not gonna be homeless, though we might be better off if we were. One local agency will help with first month rent and deposit BUT you literally have to be living on the street, in your car, or in an emergency shelter for more than a month. HUH????? So to get my kid a home I have to let her have no home which puts me in danger of having her taken away from me. This system is insane.

Sleep doesn’t seem like it’s going to come easily. I am out of melatonin and I am sure as hell not taking any of the doc’s or doc nurse’s ‘sleeping pills’. Worse hangover than a vodka bender, I kid you not. And they make me sluggish the whole day after and bring my mood even lower. So how are their prescriptions any different from alcohol if both act as depressants?

Again. If you can donate or just reblog or pass on social media…Fundraiser is here.

If you need further proof how dire our circumstances are…this is my current bank balance.

And to add more stress, the yearly registration sticker for my car is do by March 31rst, another $105 I can’t come up with.

It’s hard for me to ask for help so believe me…we need it more than you know.