Archive for mood swings

Interrupted Consciousness, Bridezillas, and SPLAT!

Posted in anxiety disorders, bipolar depression, depression with tags , , , , , , on May 16, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I am just burning up the DSM today coming up with new disorders. Restless mind syndrome, now as opposed to interrupted sleep, I have decided sleep is my normal default so technically, it’s the waking up over and over that is the disorder.

Splat started earlier after I learned of my mom’s bad mammogram and the waiting period they stuck her with. I thought my own father might be able to work up an iota of empathy as he was married to her 28 years and no one deserves cancer even if they were a bankrupting spouse. Nope. Then his gf got involved and said oh, three weeks isn’t time for it to spread to the lymph nodes, she has plenty of time, she will be okay…Now lets talk about my low iron and how I have to get an upper GI series and a colonoscopy…SERIOUSLY? You want to put that up against potential breast cancer in a 70 year old woman whose entire family died from cancer?????? How narcissistic can one woman be?

So splat imploded then exploded and now I am back to feeling truly demoralized, defeated, depleted, and wait, because it’s only 10 p.m.

I got Bridezilla texting me and saying I gotta get my kid white or purple dress shoes by Saturday for HER wedding. I told her I have NO money. None. Zero. I just got hit with another power bill that was 45% of my income and my rent was the other 50% so now my water is gonna get turned off. So yeah, shoe money, sure, let me pull that out of my ass. I will be so glad when this fucking wedding is over. I knew it would end up being my financial problem, that was only ever the reason I didn’t want Spook involved in the fiasco. “But they’re just twenty dollars at Wal-Mart” says the 20 something with no kids of her own whose rent is only $80 a month. Twenty bucks is a LOT for me. I need cat food, I will need even more gas now since I have to make 3 trips to town over this stupid wedding, then next week Spook has a doc appointment, then I have to go back for a job interview.

I feel like my brain is trying to claw its way out of my head.

Anyone want to buy a 16 disc collection of the best of Forensic Files? Right now, it’s about the only thing I have worth around $40 on ebay. Discs are in great shape, bought new, barely used, cos I switched to digital files.

I.want.to.scream.and.smash.things.

But I am too tired and my stomach is rioting from stress and my back is hurting from sitting up to write for so long. Scumbag brain is on hyperdrive, and not in a good way. This is a perfect storm brewing and I am terrified someone is going to say the wrong thing come wedding day and I am gonna burn a dozen bridges when I snap.

This is SPLAT. This is what follows a brief hypomanic bout. Irritation, anger, defeat, zero motivation, hopelessness, and right back down the rabbit hole. We’re all mad here, said the cat.

It’s a ‘I wanna drink bleach’ kind of night and I don’t even have any bleach.

Ass Trash.

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Manic Monday, Chapter Two

Posted in bipolar disorder, depression, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on May 13, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

 

Bedtime at 11 ish. Up at 1 a.m. Awake til 4:45 a.m. Up with alarm before 7 a.m. This has become my new despised normal but this week…it’s not grueling and I am not exhausted because…hypomania. My dad called first thing, then came over to gripe about my yard needing this and that done to it, and I didn’t even get panicked when he decided to come inside and use my bathroom then insult my housekeeping.

I think this is a point most people don’t touch on much. Bipolar people have pretty strong psyches. It’s not like we’re shrinking violets who submit because someone says we have to and we don’t want to displease them. Half the time we are in such a fragile state, we will do whatever it takes to avoid the paranoia and panic attacks that make us feel more vulnerable and weak. But when we are ‘up’, everything changes, right down to, yes, perception of things that usually make us fall apart so fast emotional shrapnel flies. Today I feel strong and solid mentally and so I cope better. I know this is part of the manic depression cycle so it will come and go but I do love when it visits.

It also kept me from throttling him when he started in on my about getting a job at McDonald’s. No, not a job, but  THE SAME SHIFT AND SAME DAYS MY BROTHER WORKS SO THEY DON’T HAVE TO DRIVE HIM AND HE CAN RIDE WITH ME. I told him I want overnights. They only run drive thru after 11 and I think two nights from 8 to 10 pm ish I could deal and Spook would only need a sitter for when she was sleeping. I don’t worry about when I will sleep. I haven’t been working the last 2 and a half years and I still don’t get decent sleep so catnaps work for me. What I do NOT want is working 5,6 days a week for 3 hours a day. With my anxiety, it is best if I go in and get the work week over with so I can breathe and regain equilibrium. I am just so fucking sick of him telling me what to do when I am damn near 50 years old. But I am also feeling pretty shitty cos half the people I know who got jobs ended up getting fired or quitting, and already even with a bad current reference, they are getting hired for new jobs within a couple of weeks and I am getting nothing.

Thing is, even if they hired me tomorrow, it won’t help me right now. The cats are running low on supplies, the water bill is due, the car needs gas…Not like my dad will help me on any of that even if I paint their shed or whatever to earn it. That’s why I post our paypal link, in hopes some kind soul will help out with five or ten buckets to help keep us afloat. I know it annoys people and it makes me look like a money grubber scam artist but I am pretty much an open book. I mean, 9 years of blog archives so my story is consistent. Facts always are. I post my disconnect notices, my account numbers (I was hoping since I did that someone would have helped with Spook;s school pics since they could have just ordered them and not need to give a penny in cash). I am transparent as I can be. (And I also accept directly sent stuff, so I’d suck as a scammer unless cat litter was currency.)

paypal.me/MorgueAndSpook

I did this video last night because muggles have asked me what mania is like. Now this was hypomania, not full blown, but same idea. Ten feet tall and bulletproof except with hypomania you’re too scattered to remember where you put your Kevlar so eventually you’ll take a hit and it will likely be mortal to your hypomanic good mood.

And no, I am not giving up, I am gonna keep supporting my kid’s dreams of a vacation and all I beg of you is, just share it on social media. Help this kid get something she wants out of a life.

Mania is wearing off, I am gonna be one tired little ghoul here soon. But the ride was good while it lasted. Think it means my Abilify needs increased, though, dual mood stabilizers usually murder the hypomania if they’re working right.

Have a great Monday. Play me off… (And for the love of pegacorn, could someone do a METAL version of this song THAT DOES NOT SUCK?)

The Ugliest Truths I Hide…No More

Posted in depression with tags , , , , , , on March 24, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

***Possible trigger warning***

I have been doing this blog for going on 8 years and while I pride myself on being painfully honest here (I mean, who admits willingly to going out in public smelling like cat pee?) but because mental health issues can be so triggering for some…I have for the most part kept the blackest of my mental states to myself or summed it up indirectly. I don’t want to keep doing that. If the internet needs protected from the ugliness of life, it isn’t my job to protect them. Just don’t read it.

I am, of course, referring to suicidal thoughts. I have lost friends and family to suicide attempts/suicide and I don’t consider it something to joke about or take lightly. In this day and age of social media and net trolls, it just seems risky to flay your fragile mental state open to that degree. There are those out there who enjoy encouraging depressed individuals to kill themselves. They relish increasing the pain and torment, it makes them feel good. Those are the people I want to avoid at all costs when I am feeling vulnerable and hope has abandoned me.

I don’t honestly know why today I suddenly feel completely…devoid of the will to live, devoid of hope. Earlier I was just feeling lost and stuck and frustrated by all the mixed messages that have been thrown my direction. Over the last couple of hours, though, it has morphed into a sudden mood crash. What I call SPLAT. Maybe because I can’t get warm. Maybe because my kid is at her grandpa’s again and much as I need breaks, I can’t help but feel she’s rejecting me for them because they aren’t all high strung and depressed. The day started out gloomy but now the sun is peeking out and this sends a confusing message to mind and body, as well. Because if the sun is out then I should be warm and my mood should be up but since it’s not…something isn’t kosher.

Nothing happened aside from this abyssmal midwestern early spring where it’s half warm sunny days and half cold gray wet days. Until I get a several day stretch of warm, sunny, solid weather, my seasonal disorder wrecks me and my perceptions. I also have to contend with my age (!!!) and the fact that I am closer to fifty now so all my usual hormonal issues are about to get even worse and likely not be limited to 15 days a month. I am overwhelmed by all the housework that I keep doing but then it needs done again and I can’t keep up and I have no one to turn to for help. I tried reaching out to my sister yesterday cos I felt I needed to talk but she was, as usual, busy with her partying weed head/drinking buddies. I thought about reaching out to a newish friend I made via this blog but I don’t want our first phone conversation to be me falling to pieces and bawling about how life isn’t worthwhile.

I just don’t want to live. I don’t want to wake up again. And I have no idea why.

I see the NP in a few days and there is zero hope there, either, because no doubt she will tell me to stay on the current combo 6 weeks and I don’t feel like I have six weeks to dangle in this mental space, it’s not safe…

When I was younger, I knew I could always ‘run away’ from home to get a respite and reboot, so to speak. Now that I have the kid and cats and not even a penny to put gas in the car to go anywhere…I can’t run away. I am trapped. In my own mind, in this place I don’t feel comfortable in, in this house I never wanted…I guess that was another trauma never really explored, being told we were getting that nice affordable trailer only for the senile landlord to go rent it out to someone else and us being left with no choice but this monstrosity outside my budget and housekeeping abilities. Had the man been decent he’d have just put our rent here at the rate it would have been at the trailer, since it was his fuck up. We haven’t been able to catch a break at all this last year.

And my self loathing is at fever pitch because I’ve noticed some of my usual followers and like button clickers are now absent and I think even they are fed up with my same old song every day. But I am being honest in how I feel, I have no answers, no clarity, no motivation. If I didn’t have my kid and the social stigma against hospitalization for parents, I’d probably have already admitted I need more help than outpatient can give and signed myself into a psych ward. It would only be a day or two under my insurance but that might be a day or two where I could get some much needed rest and maybe formulate a plan of attack with a professional.

Except that is at odds with my badass “I’ve got this on my own” mentality where I need to be in absolute control.

It’s like a war raging inside my own mind and body and there aren’t gonna be any winners if I can’t get out of this negative mental space. The good thing about rapid cycling, though, is that by this time tomorrow, I may be in rage mode or blissed out following a refreshing nap. I never know what’s coming my way no matter how tightly I try to stay in control over every tiny thing that could impact my mood.

So, I have no intention of harming myself, but the desire to just stop being…is here right now. I hate it. I will rage against it. What I won’t do anymore is bottle it up and ‘protect’ those who are triggered by ugly truths.

Yes, I am a bitchy badass who probably seems unapproachable and may be deserving of my misery for being so unlikeable or whatever.

I am also a frightened single mom with a crippling disability who cannot figure a way out of this dark space and if talking about the darkness helps me pass the time until I am in different head space…

I don’t wish to trigger anyone or put a positive spin on suicidal thoughts. I do however want to exorcise my darkest demons here and I can’t apologize for the truth being ugly or a bummer.

Part of the mental health stigma that haunts so many of us is that we do try to censor even our feelings and thoughts to avoid bringing more stigma on ourselves.

No more self censorship here.

Playing The Slots

Posted in bipolar disorder with tags , , , , on May 13, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Update to our story.

When we moved, I had to leave behind a previous Mother’s Day Gift dad and stepmonster got me from Spook. All I wanted for our new home was another rose bush-yellow. And yesterday they bought it and planted it for me. I named it Persophone, daughter of the goddess of Harvest, in hopes she will grow as tall as my old rose bush. It reached 7 feet tall and 5 feet wide and I called it Monster. Seems silly to wave gardening pompoms but I killed a cactus once, so Monster was one of my pride and joys. Persephone is my new hope.

Slots. Mother’s Day. I have sinus drainage drowning me, cramps, and pre-splat is heading downward fast. I am cooking chicken noodles as a gift for my mom (someone else bought the stuff for it cos I chose to pay bills but everyone wanted my noodles so they bought the stuff). My kid is at church for another 30 minutes so I have a moment of peace. If you discount the fact the cats are going bonkers and keep jumping up and clawing me cos they’re running round like ferals. Best I can guess is all the changes in the weather has them acting like squirrels on meth and coke.

Mood disorders are like playing slots. Only my wonky chemicals are the house and odds are always in favor of the house. I keep pulling up losers. Two weeks ago when I proposed a mother’s day dinner for our mom, I just wanted to do something nice. Then all the other stuff happened (losing income is a huge thing when expenses have tripled, so yes, it affects mental state negatively) and now…fuck nice. What about me? I’m a mom, and today, crampy drain-y moody mom just wants Fort Blankie, minus blankets, cos well, it’s warmed up. I will keep my word, though, cos in spite of our dysfunctional family dynamic, I love my mom and my daughter loves her grandma and aunt. I will ignore the fact that my sister’s interloping non family friends will be there. I try to be civilized and even like them, but the fact they invite themselves to EVERY family event we have annoys the hell out of me. If I wanted to hang out with a bunch of stoners, I’d become one and surround myself with the same kind.

But that could be hormones and mood talking. IDK.

I just know I pulled the arm on the slot machine and today’s a bust. Faking it gets so old. And the game of slots makes it impossible to make plans because as I said, two weeks ago I was okay with this thing. Then I found out the interlopers invited themselves, I lost income, PMDD hit, hypomania crashed downward…I do everything I can in an effort to keep my spirits up and splat still happens.

I’ve had a preview of my summer since the weather warmed up the last couple of weeks. Every day with a kid who is bored within five minutes of every activity, whiney, mouthy, and on the rare occasion I feel generous and offer to watch her little friend while his parents run errands ‘for an hour’…it’s gonna be two, three, four hours, and after hour one, they start bickering and my nerves are going to fray and split and break. But I guess it’s better than three months of six trailer park kids in my yard, eating our food, and causing trouble and destruction. Maybe my coping mechanisms will improve as time passes. It’s been a tough year, makes sense I am frazzled easily.

I do not want to go today.

I will go and I will pretend I want to be there and I will fake nice and cheerful.

Or I will try. When dad showed up yesterday with the rose bush, he growled, “What the hell are you scowling at us for?” And honestly, I had NO idea I was scowling. Anxiety shows on your face whether you intend it to or not, and I guess I wear mine unconsciously and very visibly. I wasn’t pissed off. And I don’t spend time in front of the mirror gauging my expressions then consciously trying to make them more pleasant for others.

I guess this inadvertent scowling may be why people find me unapproachable or unpleasant. I try to be friendly and most of the time, even when faking it, I pull it off. But if I stop trying to fake it at all times..well, scowl happens and I get my case jumped. Mood slots is exhausting to play 365 days a year. I hate gambling. The house is always gonna win, even if I manage to cash in on a few coins occasionally.

Anyway…Happy Mother’s Day to all it applies to, even petmoms. As well as single dads who are doing the job of both parents. It ain’t an easy gig being mom and dad both.

Read our story.

Situational Mood Swings Versus Bipolar Depression Mood Swings

Posted in depression with tags , , , on May 4, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Today SHOULD have had me dancing on ceilings. It took scrimping and sacrificing (my daughter still won’t forgive me for single ply toilet paper, no money to order from book fair, and no money ($8 each) to get into some school family function…but we have internet. Well, DSL is wanna-be broadband, but hey, in Armpit, this is my option and I jumped on it and humped its leg. Instead of it being oh-happy-day…

It was 4 hours of anxiety because I know I told the company I wanted set up between 8a.m. and 12 p.m. I paced, my stomach churned, my anxiety climbed…Finally managed to get a live person on the phone and was told no, my set up was for between 1 p.m. and 5 p.m. I went with it, the guy showed, we have service blah blah blah. I had to get a bundle with phone service to avoid installation fees on top of my ‘bad credit deposit’ and I hate phones and don’t even own one outside my cell phone but…whatever. We have service and for high speed…I couldn’t access my browser on my phone while Spook streamed on her tablet so…Single ply toilet paper is in good company with other shitty things. (ha ha ha, sorry, gross humor.)

It took an hour of my kid fidgeting and not focusing to do her homework. Then we were fine, I fed her, started cooking my supper..And my dad and his woman show up unannounced. I HATE that shit. My panic disorder demands a head’s up and they refuse. I guess since they’re still hauling off my trash I should shut up, but I have one bag of trash a week and I can’t start service for less than $170 up front. If I had that kind of cash laying around, we’d be using Charmin, ffs.

Dad immediately started in on people who don’t work, people on food stamps and how he’s supporting us all with tax dollars he pays…He has to mention this EVERY SINGLE TIME he sees me. If it’s supposed to shame me, mission accomplished. My self esteem is already in the crapper and maybe that’s why he so easily guilts me, shames me, and makes me feel so damned depressed in his presence. Because while I don’t share his extremist views on people working 18 hour days until they keel over at 90…I have never felt good about being on disability or getting food assistance. I have fought with everything I’ve got trying to get stabilized and make it stick and get back to work. I guess with my own frustration at my own instability on top of his constant harranging (never directed at me personally, but it’s not veiled, either), it makes sense my mood would crash. That and them showing up without a ten second phone warning ALL THE DAMNED TIME.

Their visit lowered my mood so much I barely enjoyed my frozen lasagna and I am barely using the internet we waited two months to get. And I guess that’s on me, allowing them to get under my skin. I need to toughen up. It never used to bother beyond the nagging factor. Meds and age and counseling have created a big bucket of conscience, guilt, seeing things from the other person’s side, and self doubt galore. Maybe unmedicated uncounseled dysfunction was what made me so badass strong emotionally. Though I don’t entirely buy that because frankly, I was an immature, self centered, cruel bitch, even if a large percentage was symptomatic of my bipolar and I was quite wondermous when…sorta sane.

I just hate how self awareness has turned into self doubt and weakness.

While the sudden mood dip today was situational, I also know that going off a med I’ve been on for 16 months, and starting a new one, there’s gonna be some ebb and flow and ups and downs that aren’t my fault. Determining what is situational, chemical imbalance, or a bit of both…that is the tough part and that is more art than science.

Spook is staying at my mom’s tomorrow night so I will have a ‘me’ night. And within 2 hours I will miss my kid like crazy and freak cos she’s 20 miles away from me and she bailed on an outing with her uncle which I am sure my dad will lecture me about cos ya know, he’s lately on a kick totally against Spook spending any time with my mom. He seems to think they own my kid every weekend and it really pisses me off. But selfishly, if I surrender her on occasion…they stay away from me and it’s better for my mental health. And other than being racist, bigoted loud rednecks…they really do adore Spook and aren’t mean to her (mostly, stepmonster’s yell could shrivel a gang banger’s testicles) and she enjoys spending time with them so…it’s not entirely selfish. And I don’t like the term selfish, it’s more self preservation. You don’t eat foods that upset your tummy and make you physically ill, makes sense to avoid people who have that effect on your mind.

Day 3 of Cymbalta. Had some grogginess during the day but at night, in spite of Xanax and a triple dose of melatonin…it’s taking 3, 4 hours to fall asleep. That is maddening. But it’s a process stopping a med and starting one, I will give it time.

I just wish I could kick myself in the ass and stop letting these doom and gloomers get to me. You think I am judgey and negative and gripe a lot? I am a fraction of the extreme that my family has always occupied.

Maybe medication that works will help. IF this works. I figure if it doesn’t kick in by my next, last appt, with Dr. H and I get bounced back to nurse doc…I’m doomed.

And there you have the difference between being depressed clincally and situationally. Except in my case, it’s a catch 22 cos my depression is very real and my treatment options cause situational depression. Lose, lose.

Was supposed to be a happy day but instead…splat.

I’d really like to take a Z-whacker to splat. Then toss splat in a tree chipper.

Mood swings are so cruel, especially when you feel them so deeply and they feel so real at the time…only to often turn out later on to seem asinine.

Except with dad down the street always darkening my doorstep and my psych center unable to keep doctors…my situational depression isn’t going away any time soon so pray to the sacred pegacorn for me that Cymbalta kicks ass for me.

SPLAT-terbrained

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , on September 19, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

I was sailing along in neutral space (aside from the looming Reaper of Anxiety that borders on panic)…And from out of nowhere I went SPLAT. Total despair, depression, feeling hopeless. Nothing precipitated it. There was no trigger.

It’s the cycle.

Bipolar two is a special kind of evil. Insidious. Cruel. Unrelenting.

My anxiety increases with the sudden change in mental state (this is far more than a ‘low mood’, scumbag brain is sending out some pretty negative messages and I feel too weak to tune them out). A sense of foreboding lurks. Every sound seems amplified. Every tiny thing feels insurmountable.

And then I think of R working 2 jobs, and my dad rattling on about how he worked 80 hours last week and he’s 70 years old…

I feel like such a wimp. So pathetic. I know it’s the depression and anxiety filling my head with wrong messages. Maybe things are pretty rough right now, but things that didn’t register on my radar last week are suddenly running forefront this week as viable threats, potential threats, imminate threats…

I doubt the pms dysphoria is helping the situation.

You’d think as often as Splat happens, I’d be innoculated to how abruptly it comes on. Yet still, I am floored by how fast this hit me, from out of nowhere. I feel terrified and I am not sure of what. Maybe it was my kid asking if we were going to be homeless without child support. Maybe it’s because public aid still hasn’t called back about why my benefits didn’t increase when my income dropped nearly three hundred bucks due to missing child support. Perhaps it was even worsened when my sister texted me about their own dire situation, 2 weeks of nothing to eat but ramen. Dad and stepmonster refused to help them. I get when things are tough you take care of your own, and it’s asinine when my sister asks them to buy pricey cat supplies or household items. But for a father to not even offer up a package of meat to help feed his daughter and grandson…

I tossed them a four pound back of hamburger. I didn’t have it to spare, really, but family helps family. I will not become my father, stockpiling for my own sake, while my mom and sis and nephew go hungry. No matter how wigged out my brain is, I have kindness in my heart. I like to think (even naively) that karma comes around and one day when I or Spook need a hand, my sis and them will be willing to return the favor if they can. No way could I not do something, minor as it was. Not who I am.

Right now, who I am, is a woman feeling like emotional doomsday has arrived and every nerve ending is in flames and the Grim Reaper is at my door…It’s the disorders, but at the moment..

The disorders are kind of in control. It’s terrifying and yet it’s my reality. Lather, rinse, repeat.

“You’re fine.” says R.

“How are mood swings a disability?” said someone on a tv show.

“Deadbeats on food stamps and disability are taking all my money in taxes.” This, from my wonderful father.

I WANT to be fine.

But no amount of their guilt, denial, put downs- is going to change the fact that my brain is off kilter and it is disabling.

It’s scary times for those of us who have disabling disorders and need our disability income, our Medicare, our Medicaid, our prescription plans…Scary, hell, it’s horrifying. Maybe some of my anxiety and panic is warranted.

Does not explain how I went from feeling semi decent to suddenly feeling hopeless so abruptly. That’s all bipolar. The gift that keeps on taking. Like a vulture feasting on roadkill, this disorder is going to pick my bones clean one day.

The Final Meltdown

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , , on July 9, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

(C’mon, 80’s music fans, let the tune of Europe’s “The Final Countdown” become an ear worm.)

LONG POST, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

So, not the final meltdown, never is with bipolar, there will always be another and another but this last week..I reached rock bottom. And I mean, the kind of rock bottom that leaves you feeling ashamed and embarrassed and like crawling underground and rotting there rather than face people and own your behavior.

Most insulting is that everyone’s blamed my behavior on my meds failing. This particular meltdown had little to do with meds or bipolar. That may be an exacerbating factor, but 99.9% is menstrual dysphoria. The thing no one in my life, including my shrink/psych nurse, gives any credence to. But it’s real, it’s all consuming, and it is EVERY FUCKING MONTH. Now the extent can vary by monthly cycle but at least half a dozen times a year…

I basically go bonkers for ten days that month. It’s random, too, so no predicting or planning. No avoiding situations where the behavior is going to result in…shittiness.

Wednesday I dropped my kid off at my mom’s. And was informed by my mom that my dad and stepmonster have a pony ride thing planned for my kid’s birthday. WTF? They didn’t ask me, didn’t inform me, didn’t invite me. Menstrual, bipolar, or what not, how is that remotely okay? I AM HER MOTHER. They also declared, not asked, that they were keeping her 4 days that week for her to go to bible school at my brother’s church. WTF???? So that lit the fuse.

The old friend with bennies popped in and could not have been less interested in company or sexy stuff. (Fuck off and die, lithium.) So I was pissed that not even my mojo was working, cos hey, I deal with people all the time and hate it but I manage. But my own body being a traitor? COCKWEASEL. Didn’t help by this time I had watched the ep of Grey’s Anatomy where Derek died so the hormonal tears were lurking everywhere.

Around midnight the fuse burned until exploding like a stick of dynamite when my sister texted to tell me my kid has, FOR THE SIXTH TIME THIS SUMMER, lice. And they were treating her with the very chemicals I FORBADE and even got a dr note for the school to avoid. And they’ve done it before, too, and it started war and they went and did it again. And to make it all worse, it wasn’t my family that discovered it AGAIN, it was my brother in law’s stoner buddy who thinks because he has three awful female teenagers it makes him an expert on MY child. Then I got the lecture on how could I miss it, I must have not gotten it all, blah blah, we’re just trying to help Spook and you…

WTF am I supposed to do when her friends don’t get treated or one does but the parents might have it but don’t treat themselves? I can’t lock her up. I can’t put her in a clear hamster ball. What am I supposed to do? And while my sister was “this stuff happens’ my out of control hormones and emotions were telling me my mother’s likely plotting against me as an unfit mom to take Spook from me. Logical? Probably not. But my mother is a two faced back stabbing monster half the time, so it’s not entirely without basis. She goes out of her way to be nice to my face then undermine me at every turn, especially with my kid.

So two separate factions of my family just hi-jacking my kid and going against my wishes caused me to explode. I threw my phone, aiming at the wall. I ended up hitting my laptop screen. GAME OVER. Couldn’t trash the five dollar shitty phone, had to hit the computer I loved so much. Shame was immediate. But hormones and emotions just rampaged and I eventually silenced my phone because I couldn’t deal with my sister and her friend and the lice and having zero input on my kid’s life..I spent two hours deep breathing and talking to myself, saying I have to calm down, I got this, I can clean up the fall out, I can…

By morning and my appt with the nurse practitioner (her scripts say DR, so I don’t understand at all)…I wasn’t as bad but my first words when seeing her were to warn her there was a good chance I was gonna curl up in the corner of her office and bawl. And I tried to explain, no, the meds aren’t doing it but MOSTLY every month, it’s the menstrual dysphoria. Based on her reaction, I may as well have been blaming it on tarot cards rather than trying to explain what is a ten day long dire condition for me every single month.

Oh, she asked the right questions. We talked meds (I went off lithium ten days and lost 13 pounds, HELLO????), we talked my eating habits, my sleep, my anxiety. I suggested Trintellex because I have heard good things and I’ve tried all but leeches and attaching myself to the car battery…I just had the distinct impression she was rather…dismissive of the menstrual dysphoric factor. Odd how NO ONE discounts pregnancy and menopause hormones yet the idea a month cycle can turn so vile is beyond their intellect…

She said not to go off the lithium and get the blood work done.Meh, close to the next appointment I will fake it. But I got the Trintellix (whatever, they changed the name so it may as well be called Clown Dick, which btw, is a character from the twisted Syfy show Blood Drive)…Day one, I got an excrutiating intermittent stomach ache that was worse than labor pains…Scared the HELL out of me. But I took it today and no agony so…one day at a time. It could be the magic bullet to make the combo work. (Lithium still can fuck itself.)

Thing is, my kid stayed at mom’s 2 days. By the second day, I kept waiting for them to bring her back cos my car is running so shitty,but they never did so finally I said, let her stay. I missed her so much. After the night before’s usurping, last thing I really wanted was her to be there even longer. But I was hurting, the car’s chugging scares me, andby ten p.m. it’s just…fuck it. And my kid confirmed they pretty much planned it that way. If I came to get her, she couldn’t stay but otherwise…they were waiting me out to keep her there.

Because they think I am a danger to my kid. My mom point blank asked it, then I guess after I went off on my sister over the lice chemicals…it became a bigger issue with mom. She sent her number home with Spook in case I “lose it” or she gets lonely. I mean, the other day, I had to tell my kid NO to conversation while anyone is in the bathroom and she whined that she gets lonely going pee. HOW AM I EVER GONNA NOT MAKE HER FEEL NOT LONELY WHEN NINETY SECONDS TO PEE MAKES HER FEEL ALONE?????? It’s not a contest, but I can’t win here. I cannot be a proper mom when everyone, while well meaning, keeps undermining me.

Which lead me to wonder why a girl who moved out at 17 even without parental consent, is now such a spineless wussy at 44. WHAT HAPPENED TO ME??? And it’s not that I care about them, I love them, but family is a proctology exam without lube for many of us…I think it’s because my parents are aging and my kid loves her grandparents and I don’t wanna be the asshole who keeps her from knowing them however long the universe deems is left. Yet, they are damaging me mentally so…

Did I mention my desktop computer happened to die the same night I went and fucked up the laptop? (which just needs an external monitor, its brain is okay, thank pegacorn I kissed enough of R’s butt to get this slimline laptop as a spare). That desktop was bought, used, 3 years ago, for $75 and came with monitor, mouse, keyboard, cam, mic…it was an amazing deal and thankfully I stored most of my stuff to external hard drive so the death isn’t fatal to my digital media…But still…I own what I did, I meant to hit the wall and as usual, my aim hit the laptop screen with the phone (still, it can be used with ext monitor)…Just…FFS. Isn’t it enough the car is leaking brake fluid, the back brakes are failing, and it’s backfiring minus the muffler system which makes me think it’s gonna burst into flames…

I just don’t understand why everything has to go wrong at once. But I own what I broke, even if I’m convinced my hormones were as altered as if nine months pregnant and demanding pickles and cotton candy…I own it.

I even made peace with my sister and her friend, they were kind enough to not hate me for being hormonal. My mom…while nicey nice to my face…

My kid woke me this morning and asked to get in my bed cos she had a nightmare that when my meds quit, I spanked her and wouldn’t stop and she was terrified.

I haven’t swatted her once in over a year because I don’t wanna be that asshole parent who says hitting is wrong yet spanks their kid.

Which means only one place she could have gotten the spanking idea and I trust my sis and her friend, they know how much I love my kid. My mother, however…She thinks she’s doing well but she’s…kind of the devil. I’m not perfect. I kinda suck sometimes. But I would sign myself into a psych ward if EVER thought I was even close to physically harming my child.

And if crying in front of her because one of my fave Grey’s Anatomy characters died is abusive or some shit…

Fuck you all. Emotion is good, even if real people are such assholes, it’s only inspired by fictional characters.

Not been my finest week but yesterday I bleached my hair then dyed it crimson. Today I made Jello and pudding for my kid and finally mowed the lawn and helped R with some computer glitch…Behaving badly does not make one bad.

Though my grounded child’s poor behavior makes me wonder. That’s another post, though.