Archive for parenting

The Discomfort Of My Own Skin

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on December 7, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

In the past I have always been able to find a certain level of being comfortable in my own skin. The last couple of years, however, it so often feels like I am wearing skin too tight to fit over my bones, like it is someone else’s skin. It’s very uncomfortable and disconcerting. On certain points, I know exactly who I am. I like to wear black. I love Halloween. I love heavy metal. I dig skulls and graveyards and horror movies. I have zero problem that my ‘social life’ has always seemed to revolve around the new TV season from September til May. This is who I have always been, it is not artifact of depression or low self esteem or some need to be negative and bizarre. I was reading Fangoria when I was 7 years old long before there were any whispers about mental illness or personality disorders. The things the professionals and society on a whole decide are part of my depression and negative attitude are in fact the things that actually make me feel…less miserable. Sometimes they even bring me pure joy when the mental demons aren’t dancing the cha cha in my brain.

Last night I had an epic moment of being pathetic in regards to my workaholic narcissist friend, and once again, I allowed him to put me in a corner, feeling like the bad guy when in fact, no one is the bad guy, it’s just a bummer issue. But rather than him letting it be a bummer or have any inkling of understanding my position, he just put it all off on me and stopped texting. All because I missed his call the other night. Anyone who says 56 year old men can’t behave like bratty children is a moron. And I rationalize constantly for those around me, taking into account their upbringing, the kinds of people who were their family influence, and I can understand how they turn out cold or tough love-nasty or self absorbed or lacking in self awareness. You know, the luxuries no one has ever afforded me for my issues, let alone the chemical imbalance that wreaks havoc over every aspect of my life. But ya know, this need to see the good in people and rationalize when the outcome is always the same-their behavior leading me to feel like an overly needy irrational emotional succubus…

It is indeed me. Not necessarily at fault for my behavior and reactions, because no one can tell you that your feelings are right or wrong, they are just how you feel. But my expectations for others to respond, like, well, emotionally available adults with some semblance of conscience…I am setting them up to fail because I know…even if I have done all the therapy and work on myself and become a better version of me…Trying to reshape them into something I can cope with is wrong. Yet I keep doing it and licking my wounds when their same shit, different day behavior remains the same. Part of why I self isolate, I guess. It’s like I feel too much, too deeply, and others around me…are much more level, simpler, scientific, I suppose. And it works for them. I’m the one always alone, never really part of anything, never really bonded to anyone. I’d like to flip a switch and become some emotional simpleton but part of being comfortable in your own skin…

Is accepting yourself as is, flaws and all, even when these so called flaws mean you can never quite mesh with other people.

Wow, did not see that rant coming.

So let’s just go with the last two days.

Yesterday I avoided housework but I did drag out the Christmas tree and decorated the front porch so my kid would be appeased.

Not gonna make any magazine covers but I kinda like the whole eclectic ‘whore it up’ vibe of mismatched and willy nilly color bulbs.

Thie morning I blew off the alarm and phone and…went back to sleep. So went my plan to get her to the pancake with santa deal early enough to miss the crowd. But I did get her there.

On the way back, she told me, “My friend and I had fun, you’re always such a downer.”

Wow, that stung. I mean, I don’t do Miss Mary Sunshine, like, ever, without manic episodes, but I didn’t think I was that bad at hiding my inner struggle. I act silly sometimes and try to make her life and smile at her. But you know when the depression permeates your very bone marrow…I guess I am just stuck being Debbie Downer with a sprinkle of Happy Fun Ball from time to time. I feel like I am letting her down, but then…she is such an upbeat, social kid, I don’t think Mary Poppins could please her as being cheerful enough.

We have another event at 4 today. It is gonna be packed, but it is necessary. Least she will have snacks and activities and some semblance of a holiday spirit since I am such a downer. After that, she is going to spend the night at her grandma’s. Which will put me having to drive after dark and getting home around 8, at which point all this socialization will have me zapped and drained so I will accomplish nothing, probably not even enjoying some teen angsty Vampire Diaries. Sigh. Adulting is hard, I need the escape.

I got my water bill today and it was higher than expected so that cuts my gift budget for her to $21. That is pretty pathetic but I don’t have any options. Hopefully 19 dollar items wrapped seperately will give the illusion of her getting a good Christmas. I was counting on my mom and sis going overboard as usual but sis and her husband were in a big fight last night cos they literally can’t buy any gifts til the day after Christmas. But knowing that family faction, one of them will get shit on credit or go get a payday loan. It’s not supposed to be about the gifts, everyone says, but if you think about it…didn’t those Bible people bring incense and such at the baby Jesus birth? So maybe it’s not really about 2019 consumerism overboard spending gifts, but…it kind of is about some sort of gifting thing.

At this point, I’d be cool with the incense sticks. They have a baby powder scent that I love and several cool burners but the store that sold them…doesn’t sell them anymore.

Spook is at my dad’s right now, playing with their neighbor boy. Gotta leave in an hour, we are giving my brother a ride to work, which leaves us in town meandering for 2 and half hours til our event.

It is unfair of me to think a ten year old capable but one day…I truly hope Spook realizes I was more than just a downer of a mom who didn’t much enjoy Christmas or have friends or money. I hope one day she understands that since her donor walked out 8 years ago, everything I have done and continue to do has been for her wellfare. She is my life. One more reason I don’t do the dating thing. When grown men say, “Let’s get together when you’re not busy doing the mom thing” or send you dick pics an hour after getting your number…Those are not the people I want around my child. Call me snobby or picky, but growing up with parents who can’t stand each other is just as bad as growing up with one parent absent. I’m going on 47 and my divorced for 20 years parents are still doing the tug of war thing with our emotions and loyalties and all the put downs toward each other. I want to set a better example for Spook, even if it’s just proving being single doesn’t necessarily mean there’s something wrong with you or that you have to be lonely and unhappy. I have little doubt one day I will burst out of whatever ‘wrong skin’ I am wearing and I will attempt to date or find true love or at least a booty call…

I’m just not there yet, even though it kills me that people think I am alone 8 years now because the donor ‘broke’ me. I was broken long before him, but that’s the thing about broken stuff. It can usually be mended and repaired. He may have left dents in my armor but he did not break me. If anything, he proved to me how wrong I was to just keep getting into these convenient relationships just so I was ‘normal’ by not being alone and towing the ‘you must have a partner to be whole and normal’. He also helped me see some of the destructive things I do in relationships that contribute to their demise. I LEARNED something from the experience, which counts for something. I am just so very sorry Spook has to pay for it by having an uncaring absentee sperm donor society wants call a dad. A dad–or mom- is someone who sticks around. It’s a title you earn, not just giving due to biology.

Okay, one hour to go before entering the petri dish in town. I just want this day over with. So I can turn around and do it all again next weekend. Fucking hellidays.

The one thing that would make them more bearable is if I had a family that served wine with dinner. Oh, and if we had an Uber company to drive me back safely to Armpit. But, nooo, I get a mom from a family of drunks so she thinks even one sip of booze means you’re a drunk. Bah humbug.

Or in my current mental state, BLAH HUMBUG. Cos it all seems so blah and dim and just dismal. I don’t know what is sadder than not even being able to spend $7 on the slime your kid really, really, wants for Christmas. Oh, her saying it was my choice to live here in Armpit, that was a pretty low blow. I never wanted to live here. But it was 2 weeks to get out and either be homeless or live here so I did what I had to do for her.

One day maybe I will get the gift of gratitude from her for all the hard decisions I’ve had to make out of love for her. Including living in this hellish farmland of unfriendliness. I was informed last night that the nasty neighbor across the street no longer likes me and it’s all because some stray dog climbed into her car when the door was open. Not our dog, not our fault, and Spook was trying to wrangle him up yet she now hates me…

This is what I mean about the intellectual and emotional quotient of those around me. You can’t reason with that level of…lunacy.

And ya know, call me old fashioned, but if someone has a problem with me, I’d much prefer they tell it to my face rather than me having to hear it from my dad who heard it from ten other people.

Small town midwest, backstabbing and gossip mongering at its finest.

Second thought, maybe I am okay not being an emotional simpleton. If I have to use their backwards logic to be accepted, I think I will just stay in my crypt and be a downer.

Unless someone wants to send me a case of Red Velvet St. James wine. Then I’d be a happy downer in my crypt.

Blah humbug.

Thanksgiving Difficulty: Level Brain Implosion

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , , on November 29, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Fangsgiving started out okay enough. I had to pry myself out of Fort Blankie, filled with dread of having to cook. And honestly, the hardest part of cooking my chicken and noodles is fighting to get the chicken out of its shrink wrapped packaging, which is gross and messy and removing the package of innards is nasty AF. All I wanted was another half hour of sleep and warm blankies…But I got caffeinated and plopped the chicken into some water to boil. It was all done by 11:30 a.m. which left me two hours to finish my show I was watching, put on clean clothes, and slap on some warpaint. Then off to town and my mom’s we went.

Things were fine at first. THEN my dad and stepmonster arrived. My kid wouldn’t put down the electronic device even while eating so I told her to put it away. She bulled but did it. But no, that wasn’t good enough for stepmonster, she had to start carrying on about “You listen to your mother, Spook, or I will stick you in a corner on your tippy toes for 15 minutes!” On and on she went when Spook had already put the damn thing down and was eating quietly even if tearing up and being pouty. So my sister gets all weirded out and said, “We’re supposed to be having a nice Thanksgiving meal, not fighting.” WTF? All I did was try to be a fucking parent. Not my fault stepmonster can’t ever butt the fuck out.

Then her and dad started in on my driving, telling me I don’t know how to use brakes, just the gas pedal, and I am like…where the fuck is this coming from? She didn’t say a bad word last week when I was adequate enough to haul her ass around. But the minute she is around my dad, she shows her two facedness and they start in on me over stupid fucking shit. They don’t pay my car insurance so how is it any of their fucking business? I am mindful to do complete stops, to keep my speed down, to use signals…Oh, AND I AM 46 YEARS OLD, FOR FUCK’S SAKE. They aren’t satisfied unless running someone down and that someone is usually me. My dad has never stopped treating me like some dumb 16 year old who just got her license. He’s big on the ‘grow up’ speeches but he is intent on never letting me grow up by shutting the fuck up about everything I do that isn’t up to his standards. And if my driving is so fucking bad, why have I not had any speeding or accident tickets in 20 plus years? And I further resent that my parents now get to play the ‘we’re in our seventies, we’re old and our health isn’t great, so we get to be dickbags’ card.

It was uneventful until I realized it was getting dark out and since I am semi night blind, I wanted to get home. At which point my nephew and his wife and my sister all tell Spook she can stay at their house one night, then the next night with my mom and sis…And none of them thought to think first that we didn’t bring any clothing changes with us, that’d put the child in the same clothes 4 straight days, for fuck’s sake. So I said no and world war 3 ensued. And the whole time, even knowing our precarious financial situation, said, “Well, let her stay, and we’ll drive over and get her some clean clothes tomorrow.” Nope, none of them could muster up that much intelligence because they are too busy. My kid went into bawling spiteful mode. My mom started in on me (when at first, she told Spook no to a sleepover, because they’d been up cooking all night and day!) and said, “Why won’t you let her stay? You’re always trying to get rid of her anyway.”

EXCUSE ME, YOU FUCKING BITCH?

I let the kid spend maybe two nights a month with them. She is with me every over minute of the day, 24-7, when she is not at school. I may occasionally need a break, but I am NEVER trying to get rid of her. And the witch said it in front of my master manipulator child so she threw that one at me later on, “You really ARE trying to get rid of me!” Which demonstrates how none of them operate from a point of intelligence or logic. If I wanted to get rid of her, I’d have said yes without hesitation and not given a damn if she was stuck in dirty clothes for 4 days!!!!! I said she could stay Saturday night but by then Spook was off the rails with her bawling, sulking, then screaming fit.

So we got in the car and…a windshield wiper fell apart. On the driver side. I had only one working wiper on the passenger side and it was raining. I couldn’t figure for the life of me how to reattach the damn rubber piece and I was in no hurry to ask dad for help because EVERY time something breaks, he finds a way to make it my fault. I didn’t even touch the wipers, ever, so how could I break them???But again, my family does not operate from logic. So half blind and unable to see even the lines on the wet blackened road…I took a deep breath and set out toward home, terrified I was gonna wreck since every vestige of vision was fucked. And her sniveling in the backseat and alternating between cold shoulder and accusatory outbursts of hateful, “You ruined my Thanksgiving!”….

Yeah, it sucked. And no sooner than we got through the door, my brother called and asked me to go to their house and put the dogs out. Like, fucking hell. So we had to go do that and she continued her wrath. Then she went off on how I never do anything with her and all I do is watch TV (which is hilarious, her grandmother barely moves off her bed and watches TV 24-7 but grandma is cool). I offered to watch a show with her once we got settled in and she refused. The wrathful behavior continued for 2 hours.

I dared to text my sister about the whole debacle. And again, “Mom’s dementia is really awful, she is very mean to everyone these days.” She said she tried to explain it to mom and mom didn’t understand what she did wrong. Then finally she got it and told my sis she didn’t mean to hurt my feelings…But the woman couldn’t pick up a phone and tell ME that. Now when I drop Spook off I will probably get the ‘you’re too sensitive’ speech because for a woman with dementia who allegedly forgets everything…she does not forget, ever, being called on her own bullshit and taking the chance to spit more venom and turn it back on me. “It’s the dementia, dude.” My sister always says.

Great. The woman my dad dubbed ‘pit viper’ and ‘hateful mcnasty’ when she was in her 30s now has a legit medical reason to become even more vile and venom spewing.

BUT none of my mental issues count. They are not legit. Both parental factions SAY so.

I am so sick of the lack of logic, the two facedness, the back stabbing, the constant criticism and judgment-things they passed onto me and I have unknowingly kept doing from time to time…

One thing I have broken, however, is that I do not play their emotional mind fuck games where it’s bury it deeo down til you explode, go into denial, or just start screaming like a banshee.

I sent my daughter an email apologizing for disappointing her and explained how hurtful the day had been and next thing I know…she is calm, tells me she loves me to the moon and back, and begs my forgiveness.

At least I have managed to break ONE lousy parenting/family pattern of dysfunction.

I did not sleep well. I went to bed with make up still on so in the middle of the night I was up trying to flush mascara out of my eyeballs. That was painful. Then I couldn’t get back to sleep. Then I woke 3 or 4 times. I got up around 8 but I can’t get warm, at all, and it’s yet another wet gloomy day…with last night’s negativity still looming over my head…I feel pretty lousy about myself, my life, my family, and well, everything in general.

Yet these ignorant self absorbed people cannot figure out why I’ve spent the last 30 years keeping to myself, living by myself, and making the briefest of possible holiday appearances. They are oblivious to how toxic they are. I’m just stuck up, or a hermit, or some other bullshit they’ve dreamt up. Somehow it just can’t occur to them how nasty they all are to me. I love my sister, and she is cool to hang out with, but she’s always preferred her husband’s doper/biker friends to my company, and well, my brother is a 24 year old man child so…

I literally have not one family member I am truly close to. I really have always been on my own even with a family still around and alive.

The only way to get along with them is to stop being a parent to my child and let them take over and trample my feelings and be utterly submissive to their whims.

Which is never gonna happen.

And this is why I am always ‘joking’ that Spook and I would like to adopted by someone far from this state and we’d be live in housekeepers or whatever. There is nothing here for us. Nothing positive, anyway. I’m not running from something. I just want something to run toward.

So that was my shitty emotionally scarring Thanksgiving.

Hope others fared better than I did.

At least the food was good.

Though as I have always maintained, a good meal isn’t really worth a week of feeling like I got the shit kicked out of me by an angry mob.

The fuckers are just lucky I have a strong enough psyche to keep doing this shit year after year. But it is getting to the point where I am about to just send my kid there and stay home myself. Like depression and anxiety aren’t enough to keep me down and out, their abuse is overkill.

And I am in no way a masochist.

Runaway Brain

Posted in anxiety, Attention Deficit Disorder, depression, seasonal affective disorder with tags , , , , , , , , , , on November 18, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Either my unmedicated A.D.D hijacked even more of my brain chemicals to get so chaotic or the raise in Cymbalta has amped up my hypomanic energy but…wow, my brain is racing today. Wasn’t prior to taking my meds. Now it’s like pulling in six different radio stations on one channel and I don’t know if I wanna listen to metal, pop, country, dance, rap, or thrash so it’s all doing battle to get my attention and I am utterly confused where to go next. But nooo, I do not need Focalin at all, ass trash insurance company.

Nope, despite a relativity early bedtime and only waking six times during the night (6 is pretty good with my mega sleep disturbance), I did not have the strength to pull myself out of bed on this cool gloomy day. I hit snooze til 7:10 then did the Evil Daily Deed that is waking the spawn. It usually involves her growling and groaning and sometimes yelling at me so I have to scorch her retinas with the overhead light and pull the covers off of her so she can spew more pea soup at me…So on top of still being half asleep and having cramps, I had to deal with her daily wardrobe drama and Monday morning ‘don’t want to go to school, I am sick’ litany. (Which starts on Sunday nights, I call it Sunday-itis, how she hates this bloody school yet what can I do? And she isn’t even consistent in hating the place, every day is some new declaration of love or hate, puberty anyone?)

So far other than send the kid to school and take care of the indoor and outdoor cats, I have done nothing. Spook was supposed to have a dental appointment today but I left a message canceling it Friday since the car is out of gas. Then they started calling both phones and texting me about missing the appointment and I’m just like, not my fault you can’t check your damn messages, I gave 72 hours notice. Geesh. Just a cleaning, anyway. I guess a true grown up would have answered the phone and done a mea culpa, but the runaway train that is my brain just isn’t feeling the ‘adulting’ thing today.

Oh, I stand (sit) corrected, I have been proof reading an old novel I wrote AND THIS IS HUGE: I am playing music. Usuaully it rattles me too much and on this laptop it sort of sounds like crap, metal needs bass and metal and this has none. BUT yesterday I got dealt another death blow. MY DESKTOP COMPUTER STARTED EMITTING A SHRIEKING NON STOP BEEP AS I TRIED TO BOOT IT UP. I looked it up on line and it’s apparently a hardware problem which I know nothing about. R is out of town. My nephew is busy with impending parenthood, a paper route, a wife, and oh, reformatting my kid’s netbook. So much as I feel the stirrings of my creative writing trying to wake up, now my desktop computer won’t work. To say I am devastated is an understatement. I bought it used four months ago and even sprang for the warranty but hey guess what? You gotta send it to the warranty place and shipping for a heavy tower is around $30…(I only paid $49 for the tower,ffs!) I gotta stop buying old shit, shoulda known it was iffy since it still has a 3.5 inch floppy drive. But it was working fine, I don’t understand what happened. I made sure it wasn’t near the heat vent, that it has plenty of ventilation in back. Hell, I was in such a depression, I barely used it more than half a dozen times. I did, however, leave it in sleep mode for 3 months so god knows what damage that did. I had a bad juju feeling that if I shut it down something bad would happen and it did…

I can write blog posts, short stories, poems, letters, etc, from a laptop. But when it comes to 400 page novels and using external drives and creating pathways for my playlists and using my kick ass speakers…I need a tower to avoid overheating and avoid overtaxing its brain. Now…I am fucked.

But it was like I told my sister, every time something good happens, it is generally followed by two or three bad things. We got heat, got our hot water heater fixed, even got the kitchen faucet replaced and the bathroom sink unclogged…So of fucking course, my PC tower had to keel over. THEN my bedroom smart TV (used, $69) went spaztic and wouldn’t let me use my apps for two days and I reset everything I could think of, signed in and out, turned it off and on. Then I remembered a trick R taught me at the shop, how sometimes unplugging them for ten minutes can ‘reboot’ the system kinks and I’ll be damned after that, the apps started working again. Sadly that is not the easy fix for the living room TV. The IR sensor has failed so the remote does not work and we can’t access any smart features without it. That fix is gonna involve stripping the TV to its frame and about two hours labor and I know R will do it for me and not charge a dime but…he is never available, he just got shipped out of state again for his job.

Which lead to another clusterfuck in my brain because he warned me last night that IF they didn’t ship him out, he wanted to come hang out tonight. And when I woke so groggy and moody and crampy, I kept HOPING they’d ship him out, then I could avoid bathing and pretending to be social. When I found out they did ship him out, I felt a little bummed. Probably because his presence means I get free Mangoritas. I am shallow that way. I still consider it back pay for all the pro-republican tirades he put me through that nearly drove me to a nervous breakdown. Lately, though, he has toned it down greatly aside from the digs here and there about Democrats and especially the female ones Trump refers to as ‘the squad’ so that is what R calls them and I just find it so demeaning to the female gender. If a bunch of guys were like minded and such, they wouldn’t be labeled ‘the bromancers’. Oopps, that is a can of worms best left sealed and buried in concrete. Politics lead nowhere good.

Still not sure how I am gonna get Spook to her band concert Wednesday with no gas in the car. (I even emptied out lawn mower gas, but it was only half a gallon and that ain’t gonna get us to Dopia School) She has literally had ONE practice, and will have ONE more tomorrow and until 2 weeks ago she had never picked up a saxophone in her life. And band is only 30 minutes and most of that is instrument assembly so very little teaching. When she came home from her grandmother’s yesterday I suggested she get some practice in before getting on the tablet and war broke out. Tears, screaming, blaming me (which I had already heard from my mother, all because I dared to correct my kid for being mouthy)…She tried to tell me there wasn’t a single tutorial on line that might help her. I pulled a dozen up on youtube and she claimed ‘my tablet doesn’t get that’. Um, yeah, youtube is standard on Androids, duh. She does not like being caught in her lies and vivid imagination so she went bonkers over that. I eventually got her calmed down and she complained the sax didn’t sound right so she couldn’t play it. I warned her from the get that I know fuck all about music so I’d be of no help.

When she finally exited tantrum zone and started making a true effort, she actually impressed me with some of the notes she was able to make. She certainly has more of a handle on putting her fingers in different positions and remembering them. I tried to learn guitar but sadly, my brain is too scrambled. I can’t even drive a stick shift car, I am so scrambled.

So now what to do with myself since I was gonna write or try to, but the slave computer has keeled over on me. Damn it, could things ever just go right for a couple of weeks at a time instead of this ‘one good thing, two bad things’ bullshit? Whose Cheerios did I piss in?

I am so bloody sick of housework I could puke. But the other day by just saying fuck it and letting myself be lazy for awhile…I ended up accomplishing a few things. Like yesterday morning before Spook got home and it was 10 a.m. and I was doing dishes and hang drying laundry and sweeping and mopping. The more I bully myself the less I get done. And BFD if it is a do nothing, feel shitty day. I allowed someone into my inner sanctum to get that stuff fixed and that takes a lot out of me so maybe a few days of True Blood binge and not fretting over housework I can find my motivation.

And I also need to mourn the death of my desktop computer. The fifth one in a row. I am starting to think buying them used is a bad thing but since it is all I can ever afford…Amazing how I am still driving a $450 car 18 months later but I can’t get a computer tower to last beyond 6 months? I must be cursed when it comes to desktops. But I still want one so bad I’d pawn all my TVs to get one. Except for the fact the pawn shop guy pays about $20 for big tvs, less for smaller ones, so I still couldn’t raise the funds. How is pawn broking any different than loan sharking? You lowball someone desperate, jack the price up and profit…

Wow, my brain is totally off the rails on the crazy train today. At least it’s an ode to my beloved Ozzy.

Dyeing To Ramble

Posted in anxiety, bipolar depression, depression, S.A.D with tags , , , , , , , on November 5, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Not much new here. The days here in Armpit, USA seem to blend together, the monotany broken only by random events and changes in routine. Someone passed a counterfeit $20 at the gas station here awhile back, then a couple weeks ago, someone bought a Lotto ticket and won a million bucks. Lucky them. Yesterday was fairly uneventful, the housework slowly being whittled down to just getting winter bedding clean and dry while the weather during the day is warm enough to line dry them. God knows I have no money to hit the laundromat. My kid had her little friend over and he started touching all my stuff and washing things, which I suppose is part of him being on the autism spectrum, but it still kind of creeped me out. I do not like people who just come in and make themselves at home. I especially hate people touching MY stuff. I mean, why does a 13 year old boy need to be in the bathroom going through my bloody make up? Or touching my rack of shoes? And he leaves trash everywhere, then apologizes, but keeps doing it. It tests my patience but then again, so does my own kid. Still, I guess my old school age related upbringing is showing because we were taught not to ‘make ourselves at home’ in others’ homes without explicit permission. The kids these days just come in like they own the place, all of Spook’s friends have done this. I know it’s a new generation and all that but simple respect and courtesy should never go out of ‘fashion’.

The one accomplishment I made yesterday that I feel good about is kind of banal and frivolous but for the first time in 4 months…I colored my hair. I had the color this whole time but I had no energy to do it even if every time I saw how white my roots had gotten I felt ashamed. So I finally got that done. From silver roots:

To deep red

I should have used a blonde dye first to lighten it out so the red shows more vibrant but at least the granny roots are gone for about 4 weeks. And because I inherited my father’s dark hair, I have been battling gray roots since I was 20 years old so that isn’t age related, it’s junk DNA.

Oh that first pic was from Halloween. Spook and I were Medusa twins. She is an adorable snake lady.

I spent about $5 last month on the supplies for our costumes. Two black headbands and three bags of rubber snakes. That made the headbands and I just hot glued snakes to shirts we already had. Spook changed her mind on what she wanted to be so many times I finally said fuck it, we’re Medusa twins.

I’ve been doing stuff here and there with the hot glue gun since I sorted things out around the house and got semi organized and ya know, found the glue gun and glue sticks. We got our kitchen table and chairs given to us second hand by the landlord’s son and over the last year, the cats shredded the padding on the chairs.

Over time at yard sales I picked up some fabric remnants and this is what I did with the chairs. I love black velvet.

It is far from Martha Stewart homemaker perfect but I like it, it looks better and more my style.

I did not sleep well, but then again, I went to bed at 8 p.m. and I guess my system just can’t take more than a couple hours of sleep at a time. I woke probably seven times. Maddening but at least I only hit snooze once. And with the time change, it was light out which made getting up a little less demoralizing. My kid came out of the gate at 6:55, talking a mile a minute. She doesn’t take a breath, she just talks, and I am so sensitive to sound, it really wears my nerves down.

So imagine how surprised I was to find someone else’s blog post about hypervigilance and how it includes acute sensitivity to even common sounds. Do check out Tessa’s blog
I don’t have fibromyalgia myself, but with bipolar, depression, and anxiety, all the symptoms listed (almost all) really explain the tense red alert state I am find myself in perpetually. A direct link to the article itself can be found here..

I am slowly starting to feel little bits of joy here and there, though I doubt I have been on the new antidepressant combo long enough to attribute it to that. Maybe I am feeling more in control of my situation with the house in order and the furnace working, Idk. But yesterday I put all the cat toys in a basket and next thing I knew, all three kittens and their mama had every toy strewn across the kitchen, playing like mad hatters and it made my laugh. Depression robs you of such simple meaningful things like smiles and a laugh here and there. It felt good to get that back, even if it was brief.

I am still feeling hopeless and pointless toward the evenings. Once upon a time, I came alive at night. It is killing me that I haven’t written in almost two years. Not long fiction, anyway. I know eventually the creative dam will break as it always does but waiting for that to happen is grueling. I feel like the well of creativity and ideas has just dried up and I’ve got nothing. It’s a painful joyless to state to find yourself in when your life’s blood has always been your creativity and ability to get lost in another world through your own writings. I need that back. Maybe now that I have a good shrink, my working Xanax dose back, and the house in order and the colder weather keeping people inside (including the obsessive compulsive lawn mowing habits I endured the last 7 months, geesh, these people need an intervention for their lawn fetishes)…Maybe creative sparks will come back. Eventually. The hardest part sometimes is just sitting down and staring at the blinking cursor, wondering where do I go from here. And occasionally just the forceful effort of making yourself write one sentence leads you into the story and sometimes…you want to smash the screen and throttle that taunting blinking cursor. Curse of being a writer. How I wish I’d been born with musical talent or the ability to draw. Writing is torturesome. Especially now that paper books are dying a slow death in the midst of ereaders and digital books and audibles. Ugh, such an affront to writers and readers who appreciate the feel of paper and vision of ink on the page.

According to my Grumpy Cat (R.I.P, girlie girl), today is ‘zero tasking day’. I promised my kid I wouldn’t make her do any chores. That does now absolve me, I have wet laundry I need to get out on the line. They are calling for snow Thursday so I need to get stuff clean and dry as quick as I can. Yesterday I did all the winter bedding, including all sheets, pillow cases, and comforters. It was anticlimactic, though, because I am using dollar laundry soap with zero lasting scent and I am out of scent beads so I didn’t even get the pleasure of fresh smelling laundry. You miss little things like that when you can’t afford them suddenly. Frivolous and silly perhaps but…I only pay a buck for the scent crystals and since the donor no longer works at Dollar Tree apparently, it is safe to go back there. Now I don’t have a dollar to spend to make our clothes smell laundered.

I also don’t have the money for an antifungal cream I need for a skin issue. Insurance won’t cover it because it is available over the counter but if you don’t have $4.99 to buy it, well, I am out of luck. So the issue will just get worse and then I will likely need an office visit and more expensive extensive treatment…Geesh, if I focus on this shit, I will go stark raving mad. My kid already has me sweating Christmas, asking for this and that and me not knowing if I will even have $20 to spend on her. I curse missing that Angel Tree deadline, but with no gas in the car, I couldn’t get there and no one was around to give me a ride so..

Okay, enough negativity. I won’t barf rainbows, but I’ve been staying on track lately with trying to see things in a less negative light and I’d like to keep to that. Until the depression dictates otherwise, and inevitably, it will. Long days in the middle of nowhere, too cold to go outside, no gas or money to get to town, and a kid constantly indoors griping about boredom the second the tablet dies…Oh, yes, there will be depression and I will get to wallow in the negativity.

For now…I will finish the final two episodes of the final season of Z Nation and get caught up on my regular shows and maybe that will keep me from obsessing too much about the financial situation. At least for this month, at least, all the bills are paid. Can’t afforda a box of Kleenex, but we will have shelter, heat, lights, car insurance,phone, net, water, and food.

I was reminded the other day how ungrateful I can be sometimes. A man approached me in the parking lot of a store and asked if I could spare a dollar so he could get something to eat. And I happened to have two ones on me so I gave them to him, knowing full well it might be a scam or whatever but…I watched him walk right over to a fast food place. Spook and I probably needed that two bucks but our bellies aren’t hungry so maybe he needed it more. Someone always has it worse. That’s what you gotta remember. And I do believe in karma. Helping others is never a bad thing. God knows Spook and I have had a lot of wonderful people help us over the years. Our gratitude is enormous.

I feel shitty that we keep ending up in the same broke situation because I am too unstable to hold a job (or even get someone to HIRE ME AT ALL) but I gotta focus on getting myself well and just keeping…keeping on. As the bracelet on my wrist is inscribed on the inside to always remind me…Keep fucking going.

Sometimes that’s all we’ve got.

Failing At Momming

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , on September 23, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Thursday of last week I told my daughter she could have a playdate with her friend on Saturday or Sunday. At that time, my mental state was more determined. What I failed to foresee and factor in, however, was how exhausted I’d be between the 24-7 rain of the weekend, being dispatched to fetch my pain in the ass brother (five bucks for two trips to town and two hours of my time, ffs!), and the start of the premenstrual dysphoria pain. Yesterday I barely opened the computer and literally just lay in front of the TV all day. She wasn’t amused with me not keeping my promise. Nor was I. But I simply didn’t have the strength to get the place in order and I don’t have the tolerance for kids running in and out or being inside whining and bickering. I thought a good night’s sleep would help but alas, I woke again today with the spine crushing cramps and every cell of my body screaming in protest of every slight movement. Which meant my kid didn’t even have season appropriate clothing ready, she wore a tank top and it was chilly out and she couldn’t find her hoodie…Which is why I preach nightly for her to lay her clothes out ahead of time. Last night it was all I could do to fight her into taking a bath, let alone worrying about morning…Not that it helped either of us get to sleep quickly,she was still wandering at 9:30 and until I know she’s down, I can’t calm myself enough to sleep so an early bedtime just meant more painful tossing and turning and mentally torturing myself. FOR NOT FEELING PHYSICALLY WELL. As if this disorder is a choice, as if it is something I can just shake off and stop being a big baby over…The PMDD and periods themselves are more agony than LABOR was and this is every fucking month for ten days. I am not saying every month is this severe but when it hits…it really knocks my body down ten pegs and when my mind is already down and out…

I am failing at the mom gig. Big time. She’s bathed and fed and off to school but now I feel lousy for not washing her some t-shirts. Though she told me she had clean ones. I know better than to trust a word she says. Her world revolves around the fucking tablet and games so she’d be sitting right next to a fire in the room and tell me no,mom, you don’t smell smoke, nothing is burning…Sometimes I curse the day I even got a tablet and let her near it. She’s on her 4th one, she is so destructive. And even though she is now ten, she is needier, more dependent, and less helpful than she has ever been. I never thought I’d miss the toddler days but honestly, it was easier because she didn’t have the abilities to care for herself. Now she does and that she is so damn needy, well, it disgusts me. And that;s another sign of my failure as a mom, expecting her to be the independent child-adult I was, so I feel shitty about that, too. And I feel fucking despicable for some of the angry thoughts I was having this morning while she piddle poked getting ready and yapping and my brain was screaming OH JUST SHUT UP FOR ONCE FOR GOD’S SAKE. Now, mind you, I didn’t say this, didn’t raise my voice, but I recognized that surging, seething anger inside that always signals…hormonal rage. It’s like being possessed by a damn demon, it’s so at odds with who I am and how I normally feel.

At least the weekend is over. Saturday sucked. I thought I was off the hook once I got my brother to work and brought Spook home. But nope, that fuck waited til 4:45 and asked me to drive all the way into town to get him because his mom and dad were busy and he didn’t feel well. So off we went in a downpour so heavy I couldn’t see two inches in front of me, so enter panic. And my stewing anger at how living in Armpit means I get stuck taking care of my dad’s goddamn mistake. And yeah, he had an affair with a teenager girl while married to my mom, and made this precious son of his, and this 24 year old man child should NOT be my fucking problem. I took care of him when he was little, I did my fucking time. Least when he was little he was likeable. Now he’s just a carbon copy of my redneck racist MAGA dad and being around him makes me feel disgusted. And not five minutes after picking the idiot up, I had to abruptly keep pulling over so he could open the car door and puke in the road. Because he refuses to take his psych meds with food so he pretty much pukes like that every other day and it’s been going on for 10 years and the doctors say nothing is wrong except him not taking his meds with food. But he won’t change his ways. And they just yell at him yet let him get away with being a man child while expecting me to be some sort of super woman.

Once we got rid of him, I returned home to find my cell phone missing. I’d not gotten out of the car except to head to town and back which meant…my phone was laying out in the yard somewhere in the pouring rain, having fallen out of my purse while we made the mad dash to the car in the rain. And all I could think was, how the fuck am I gonna afford another phone and what about my contacts and all my pictures…I got soaked to the core looking out in the massive back yard til I found the damn thing. I got lucky. The case landed up so it kept it from getting ruined. I dried it with some rice and it still works but IF THAT STUPID BROTHER OF MINE HAD JUST LEFT ME THE FUCK ALONE IT NEVER WOULD HAVE HAPPENED. How am I responsible for THEIR idiocy?

It ruined my entire fucking Saturday.

The PMDD pain ruined Sunday.

Today the pain and irrational hormonal driven anger are ruining it for me.

I had ONE job. Be a competent mom. And I am failing. And I am having all these angry thoughts towards everyone which, yeah, I do have angry thoughts, but this is demonic possession level and I am barely keeping it contained in writing. No wonder in the past I’ve had physical outbursts. In hindsight, I wish I’d just hit some people instead of merely screaming and crying. Maybe getting some aggression out would be healthier than ending up with it all boiling over from being bottled up. But people with mental health issues don’t get to blow up like normal people who reach their breaking point. No, if we do that, then it is a symptom of our craziness. So bottle it up and pray it doesn’t devour you from the inside…

I’m not even making sense to myself anymore. I hope this illustrates just how altered hormones can make your thought processes and emotions. What is annoying or angering suddenly seems like a fury inducing calamity and the more you try to shake it off and talk yourself out of it…the angrier you get because it seems like you are never ever allowed to feel…what you feel.

Except I don’t even want to feel good things with this level of depth, this hormonal emotional knives in a blender flurry of feeling. This is…overwhelming. If I weren’t so depressed and athletically challenged, I’d say axe throwing may be a beneficial way of venting my aggression.

But with my lack of any athletic prowess, it’d turn into an assault charge so…maybe I should just get a voodoo doll. And stick knitting needles into it.

Now to talk myself into hang drying the laundry I ran through the washer. I can barely go outside to feed and pet the cats, the anxiety and depression are so bad.

I think this is the worst it has been in 8 years. Fully medicated and yet utterly heading to a breakdown…

But all I can think about is how to fix my failing status as a mom because, well, damn it, I’m a good mom and the depression can not take that from me. I have got to find more strength to fight somewhere. I’m not going out like this, feeling like my kid would be better off without me because my mental illness has reached fever pitch…this isn’t working for me.

Happy first day of fall, the seasonal affective disorder has arrived. I can tell because the glimmers of hope I had a few days ago…are gone. I am in big trouble.

The Mom Files

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , on August 12, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I try not to make this space too kidcentric because I know it can grate on the nerves, especially since this a mental health themed space. But as a single parent who does have a plethora of mental illness, it is relevant because it is such a balancing act and struggle trying to make sure I’m not screwing her up with my issues.

Last night she stayed with her grandma. I had a kid free night. I had a few drinks (yes, bad girl, I know) and texted a wordpress friend, which I really enjoyed. She’s a kickass woman, also raising kids, and the more I get to know her, the more it seems we have in common. I don’t know how that would translate in real life since I fuck up everything relationship/friendship I have (usually because I am depressed and anxious and people can’t handle it, so they run off and I shut down and keep everyone at giraffe neck’s length to protect myself from further hurt and rejection.) Not to say I don’t make mistakes and repel people, I am sure that is part of it. But if I retreat to loner space, it does make it harder to let people in. But in all fairness, it was NICE to talk to another adult mom about a little bit of everything. I doubt without the drinks I’d have had the courage to ‘bother’ her with so many texts but I just hope she reads this and knows how much it meant to me that she bothered to wish my kid a happy birthday via text then spent the evening keeping me company.

See, much as I need a break from my kid, after the first few hours…I become lost. Being a mom is all I have known for ten years. She is the only thing that gets me up in the morning and keeps me from giving into the dark thoughts of distortion and hopelessness. When she isn’t here, I am not sure what to do with myself. When I am stable, I usually have stuff to keep occupied. When in a deep depression and anxiety cycle…Mom-ming is the only thing I can manage with any aptitude and consistency. No Spook, no mom-ming, and I am adfrift.

At the pool yesterday, watching her splash and have fun with all the attendees, I just stood for a moment and stared at her laughing and having a blast and thought, my god, she’s beautiful, I haven’t done such a bad job on my own raising her. I just look at the young lady she is becoming and beam with pride, not for myself, but because she really is her own person. Smart, funny, creative, a great artist…My mom and the donor and my dad always say I can’t get along with anyone who isn’t exactly like me and that is patently false. I love people who have common interests but are their own person. Spook has her own personality and she is so outgoing and loves people so much, she is nothing like me in that regard. I love her just the same. My problem with others is that the relationships are rarely fair or balanced. They get to vent their problems but if I try to talk about my mental health battles, they seem to burn out and bolt. Like I want to talk about it. But when it is at its worst, I need to talk about it, and I thought friends were supposed to listen and be supportive. When I don’t get this from relationships, I do pull away and simmer and stew and…it blows up in my face and I look like the asshole. But with my daughter…we butt heads when I tell her ‘no’ to stuff but we are super close, super affectionate, and for now, she loves her mom and needs me. As teen years approach I envision my heart shattering as she pulls away and I am nothing more than someone to roll eyes at and rebel against.

Last night without her here, I found myself snuggling the little throw pillow she bought me with her birthday money. It made me think of her and how thoughtful it was of her. I miss her. I have not rushed to go fetch her, though, because well…the panxiety is rioting and this would be a bad time to drive. I figured I’d wait and see if she calls to ask me to come get her. Otherwise, she is having fun likely playing with the dog there so…let it be. My neediness is not her problem.

Okay, so I’ll stop waving my ‘my uterus did its job and produced a kid’ pompoms but the challenge of raising a well balanced child who knows she is loved when your moods change and you live in paranoid terrified darkness…It’s difficult. The stakes are so high because you don’t get a do over with a kid. If you mess them up, it’s for life. And I worry about it constantly. I just do my best and pray for the best and I’m not even religious. I am trying very hard to parent her even while technically, my mind is very ill, and people seem to think this means I am cured or doing ok. Well, I am hanging by a frayed thread so every day I survive and get to go to bed and wake up the next morning and my kid is still smiling and happy…

I’ll take the win. There are parents out there without mental health challenges who bail on their kids because it’s too hard. I’ve been here since day one and I am not going anywhere. She was failed by one parent. I cannot fail her. I can only love her, hug her, and interact with her to the best of my ability and hope it is enough.

As for her P.O.S donor…I can’t do a damn thing about his idiocy in rejecting her but I can encourage her to keep an open mind and give him a chance and I will seethe and hate him for both of us. If ever an ex deserved the right to feel hatred, it is me or any other parent who ended up doing it alone because some weak spineless donor/incubator bailed. The kids are the one who suffer and that is worth every ounce of contempt I have for him. Because it ain’t about us not working out, it is about his choice to shun her for 8 years now without so much as a birthday card or returning her email.

This man is the very definition of a lousy parent and he made the choice so he can only blame himself.

Maybe he is why I have tried even harder to battle my mental demons and still be a good mom and dad. I am all she has. Failure is not an option. Let’s just hope that love truly does conquer all and she remains a happy well balanced young lady.

The Motherlode Of Problems

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

My daughter made a new male friend here in town, close to her age. He has some learning/developmental delays and does not have many friends. He isn’t entirely unpleasant. He is, however, spoiled rotten on a materialistic level, fussy, and demanding. Qualities that are a trigger for me. I let her go play at his house last night since his mom was nice enough to drop by and ask her over. When they returned her, however, there was talk of his birthday party-the same weekend we have planned Spook’s party. Then he really crossed a line with me and said, “What are you getting me? Is it electronics? Video games? It better not be books or something cheap.” And his mom just stood there, not saying a word, not even looking horrified. Spook tried to explain that we don’t have much money but for a kid with 3 ipads, a $100 Minecraft Fathead wall mural, a 50 inch TV, every gaming system, et al…Our money problems mean nothing to him. And I noted when Spook said her birthday was right around that time, he didn’t offer her any fancy gifts. And again, this seemingly relaxed nice well off mom just stood there, allowing him to be so demanding, rude, and disrespectful.

I am triggered. I spent 2 hours seething last night because I can’t compete with this family’s financial means. Nor will I compete with their materialistic ‘buy the kid all the stuff’ mentality. He got an Alexa, now my kid wants one. I am not keen on artificial intelligence invading my network, it’s too easily hacked, it stores too much personal info on the user, and she’s just not mature enough for this device. I pondered one for myself until I saw all the security risks, the danger of kids giving away too much info inadvertently and it being collected, and I was just like…NOPE. Now this kid has her wanting one and she’s manipulating me saying, “You say I ask too many questions, I could just ask Alexa.” Then she would give out her personal info, when we are home or gone, all the possessions we own, and it could lead to burglary and…

I sound like a nutter, don’t I? I guess when you’ve had one break in where TVs and computers were stolen, you become a little paranoid and wary. We never got our stuff back. The cops barely cared to take a report. It was 6 years ago and I still have issues trusting the house to be unlocked even with us here. In Podunk. I’d say the burglary burned new neural pathways for me and made me even more untrusting. But I hear horror stories about people posting or submitting too much info to these AI devices and it leads to bad things, so am I so wrong wanting to keep that out of our home and protect my child and peace of mind?

The scorching heat is not helping my mental state. I took one melatonin last night and after the stress of her ‘gimme gimme’ friend and her litany of all the expensive stuff he has so his parents must REALLY love him…I was tapped out and I slept, hard. With nightmares and anxiety cos this kid is always asking to come into our house but the first time I allowed him to, he did nothing but complain and touch my stuff without permission and he fussed and…ARGHHH. I know I can’t pick her friends for her, but damn it, do I have to tolerate someone who triggers the very mental disorders leading to all my distorted thoughts? Can’t I just hold him at bay until my mental state is better? And this is not just him, I’ve been weird about people being in the house for months now because they took my Xanax and my meds are so effed up. And if I say no, my kid will hate me, and she wants to know why I don’t like this kid, and I have tried to explain that he has no boundaries and all he does is make her feel bad for not having all the stuff he has…Which makes me feel like bad. And here I was thinking, wow, for a poor kid, this child has tablets, computers, smart TV’s, she’s not exactly living in deprived squalor.

It only takes one person to make you realize how subpar you are but I refuse to stoop to that level. No kid needs 3 ipads. No kid should EVER tell you what you better buy him and not buy him for his birthday. He may have issues but rudeness is a choice and that his mom was okay with it…I don’t see things improving.

In addition to this stress, one of the day camp counselors pulled me aside yesterday at pick up and told me how moody and easily upset Spook is and he wanted to know if there are things going on at home, et al. I told him we’re not sure if it’s hormonal or ADHD or mood disorder but she does have an appointment this month. Plus, moving to Armpit has been tough on her. And she does have mega issues getting along with more than one or two friends at a time, which is a battle I’ve faced myself. The minute I got her home, she calmed, she was happier. The counselor said she takes things so hard she acts like a 40 year old. I am constantly telling her she acts like a 2 year old because she has fits over food, over being told to brush her hair and teeth, over being told no, you can;t lay out in the middle of the road…

All of this on top of my own struggles with personal situational stress, mental health issues, money, et al.

I’m tough but all of it is wearing me down fast. And my support system is um…non existent. “Take a nerve pill.” “Get over it, you have a kid, you don’t get to be depressed.”

That I am not a serial killer is a fucking miracle. Life has pushed me to the breaking point and them some.

So while I know it does no good trying to get y’all to interact with me…Any advice? Anyone? (Crickets.) I could really use some encouragement and support and coping mechanisms. Because I know part of it isn’t this friend of hers, it’s my own inferiority complex. But how do I stick to my guns not wanting to spoil my ungrateful non chore doing kid just so she can keep up with the mini Joneses?

Help? Anyone?