Archive for pms

992 Followers, 5 Likes, and No Patridges In A Pear Tree

Posted in depression, Mental Health Disability, seasonal affect disorder with tags , , , , , , on October 23, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

I normally try not to focus on the cobwebs gathering on this blog because, hey, that’s my decor style anyway and I have a strong dislike for all things popular but…


I am in for the fight of my life with the onslaught of current seasonal affective disorder.It’s a battle to get through each hour, let alone each day. I’m still sleeping in spurts. My kid is still channeling Satan. We still have kittens who are dying because even formula and me being up every 2 hours with them isn’t saving them. I’m ready for bed at 6:30 p.m. when the sun goes down, I am sweating but cold and still having monthly cycles and dysphoria so not sure if that is menstrual-pause or what. Everyone keeps asking “Why don’t you just get a job to make up for the child support (not being paid)?”

IF I WERE STABLE ENOUGH TO WORK THE DOCTOR WOULD SIGN OFF ON IT AGAINST MY WILL AND I’D BE CUT OFF AND PUT TO WORK! Or as is common theme even for the able minded here, the search for work cos everything is dying off again. (THey just closed my fave pizza place, Marco’s, which I kept telling everyone was gonna happen but nooo, no one will listen to me, I am just paranoid and pessimistic except, hey twonks, during a brief stable period before my brain damage, I worked as an assistant manager and I can tell when too little business means buh-bye!!!!)

Never ceases to amaze me the disparity between how society holds a father responsible for his children and what is expected of the mothers. (Reverse, as well, lots of good single dads out there.) They get to be flakes and keep their homes and cars and have date nights with their s/o and give zero thought to if their child has what they need for a day, let alone the whole time they’re not paying a cent. The law is supposed to be there for the children, but truth be told…it’s there for deadbeat parents.

There was a time the donor heard I was calling him a deadbeat and he railed against the term but even if I shut out the child he and I have together….He failed to pay for a daughter up North and a son out west, so it ceases to be an issue with me or my child. It’s about him being a selfish ogre. Okay, not ogre, that sounds insulting to Shrek and that dude is cool. Pattern of behavior. And considering that his child support amount, by state law, maxes out at 20% of his after tax income…This is a pattern of monstrous behavior on his part, not greed on baby mama parts.

Somewhere this post went haywire but my brain is too chaotic to figure it out. The empty place across the road is being wired for Dish or something and the van in the drive is blasting radio gunk so loud I feel like I should endorse WKRP in Armpit-inciatti. I was so determined to be dignified and coherent on this post but… bucket of fail.

I guess I’m just feeling a lil whiny cos even though I have my big girl panties on and I am trying-to my own detriment-to be mom and dad to a 9 year old- it’s overwhelming. And she makes sure I never get underwhelmed with all her demands and blaming everyone but herself for her tantrums. Suppose it’s karma cos before I knew I was bipolar, I blamed my mood swings on other people upsetting me. But it’s no excuse. You gotta own how you are feeling, even when others are complicit in making you feel that way. SO I OWN MY OWN WEAKNESS OF CHARACTER AND BULLSHIT AND WHININESS.

It does not, however, diminish my devotion to my daughter. Maybe who reads this blog doesn’t like the writer, but maybe,too, they have a heart for little kids who didn’t ask for a disabled parent and a shitty one. Not saying it’s anyone else’s responsibility but I am saying..we all come to a juncture where we can be greedy or we can pay it forward in some way…which is why I’ve been babysitting the neighbor kid even though they don’t even offer me a dollar. Because I want to be good, to do good, and I want it to come back on Spook and me in a good way.

We’re the least abled to be doing things for free or giving away for free but…I feel good doing it and if it means Spook and I have a bit of luck and good will come our way…Yayness. But I really do like just being nice. It’s only when people take advantage that I get venomous.

Now I have to steel myself for a shrink appt tomorrow plus a parent teacher conference and the riddle of how to get money to buy cat litter and food til next Friday. All the while this cockweasel van person is across the street blaring their radio and hammering on shit to distract me.

This is one of those days where I feel like maybe,just maybe, shock treatment might help me.

But then I think of our fearless leader Blahpolar who subjected herself to it and she still lost her battle to bipolar depression. They claim by her own hand but I will always blame the mental disorder. Ulla was a beautiful person who should have lived another 40 years to share her positive (without being nauseating) thoughts with so many of us running this gauntlet.

992 ALLEGED FOLLOWERS for this blog and barely 3 likes a day. Is it neediness? Is it a popularity contest? Or am I just disappointed that the world has devolved into a place where a pancake vaguely resembling Mother Theresa can get 700.000 likes?

No patridge in a pear tree here. Just pegacorns.Lots and lots of pegacorns.


The Gauge Is On E

Posted in depression with tags , , , , on October 22, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Yesterday was a tough one. I didn’t feel well physically and mentally I was in a gutter. Genius I am, I still let Spook have a friend come over and play for 3 and a half hours, most of which they argued. Getting through til 7:30 p.m. when she declared herself exhausted was a challenge. I made myself do some stuff, wrote it on my tombstone shaped chalkboard and it looks like I did a lot…But for me, just feeding my kid and my cats and myself makes the ‘did it!’ list.

I woke 4 times during the night. Idk why I can’t stay asleep. I don’t know why I am having such vivid horrifying dreams, either. Return to my childhood where there was no escape from my soul crushing parents?That is way worse than drowning at the bottom of the ocean or having a masked dude machete me to death.

Woke to get my kid off to school, discovered another kitten died. Tried to tell myself I can do this, I got this, I’ve been here in the rabbit hole a million times before…

I even agreed to get the nighbor’s kid off the bus and babysit for 90 minutes because damn it, this depression is NOT gonna define me and I am not just surrendering.

Truth be told…I don’t think mind over matter is working here. I am terrified. I have to keep the fundraiser going since it could be months, if ever, before the donor pays support again and honestly the ONLY fat to trim from our budget is our internet access and we tried that for 2 months after moving in, trying to catch up on things and make sure the child support income was steady. It’s all we’ve got and the fuckers jacked my bill up $13 plus a late fee when I paid them on the 2nd but their ‘express pay’ option didn’t process til the 5th…I’m drowning.

And I am scared. Failing my kid isn’t an option and yet all I can do again today is countdown til bedtime. This seasonal stuff kicks you in the gut like an invisible ghost and you’re gasping but no one understands why you’re down and out.

The gauge is on empty and I am…scared. More scared than I’ve been in the 7 years since the donor walked out because this move meant living to within 98% of my means but we had no other choice and…

I just want to go to bed. The chalboard isn’t getting filled with accomplishments today no matter how silly they might be.

I just want to sleep. Sometimes I think I want it to be permanent sleep.

Wtf, depression, that’s not me!!!!

And yet with the tank on E right now…I guess this is me.

When The Molehills Actually Are Mountains-depression rant

Posted in depression with tags , , , , on September 2, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Once a month when my PMDD is at its worst, I have one day where it is damn near impossible to drag my butt out of bed. I am lethargic, sleepy, weighted down. It’s almost like my brain has shut down and I should sue it for non support. Today was that day for me. In a rare instance of shut down, I didn’t even get up with my kid to see her off to church. NOT my norm. But I kept nodding off and before I knew it, she was saying bye cos her ride was here. So I went back to my coma and stayed there til damn near noon. At which point my bladder was about to burst so I didn’t see much choice in the matter. No doubt my kid is at my dad’s telling them how I ‘always’ sleep in and ‘never’get up with her. Ever the drama llama, if it happens once to Spook then it’s always and never. I feel shitty enough about it but I am literally moving mountains here just being upright, fucked up as that may sound.

I have yet to do my dishes and they are starting to reek. I still have 1/4 of my lawn that needs mowed. Laundry remains clean but piled up, unfolded or put away. My only success today has been to bathe the kittens (Creeper is probably not going to make it, but I have tried so hard to help him, damn that shit mama cat to hell for weaning them too soon.) The TRULY insurmountable molehill/mountain was…I BATHED. And I know that’s just normal and all but for me, it’s huge. First time in like 5 days. I think part of it is no longer having a shower, I despise baths, it’s so laborious. It didn’t used to be like this. Only the last the couple of years did basic hygiene become so difficult. It doesn’t really scream ‘my meds are working’.

People without mental issues take the little molehills for granted. THey think it’s no big deal because for them, it really isn’t. But those molehills are mountains when battling depression. I am already exhausted knowing my kid will be home all day tomorrow due to the helliday. You’d think it would simply be irritating to hear “I’m bored” and “mom mom mom mom mom mom”. No, for me and my sensitivity to noise…it’s exhausting and daunting. I just survived 3 months of the daily rant and now I get another day of it. Yayness. This has nothing to do with impatience or not loving my kid enough. It has everything to do with her gnat sized attention span and how nothing is ever enough to hold the boredom at bay. And I didn’t apply to be entertainment director, I was always on my own with my friends or dollhouse or music or whatever and I suppose I got it in my head my kid would be as self sufficient. Nope. She’s the needy beast who must be entertained at all times and if she is not, it’s my fault somehow. Exhausting.

I must admit, I do feel better having bathed. But considering we’re in day 3 of high humidity and high 80’s/low 90’s and the AC is konking out…Bathing, pain it is, is better than marinating in your own sweat. I can’t get my equilibrium with the wonky weather. Last week we had a few days that got so cool I had to get out the heavy blankets and hoodies. Now we’re back to sweltering. And people can scoff and snigger at how trivial a complaint that is but honestly when your own mind won’t give you a moment of balance, having outside triggers that keep you off balance makes the molehill/mountains metastasize.

I guess the point of this rant is that: people with good mental health need to check that privilege at the door when dealing with those of us who are mentally disordered. Your ‘snap out of it’ pep talks are counter productive and not at all helpful. You got lucky and your brain behaves and sends the proper signals so you can respond appropriately. Some of us don’t have that luxury but it doesn’t make us weak or lesser than those without imbalances. We just ask for some empathy, a little support emotionally, and for the love of pegacorn…stop telling us to ‘suck it up’. Your privilege is showing and it reflects poorly on you. If you had mental disorders and a lifetime of therapy, you might realize this and feel kind of bad for it.

Your molehills are my mountains and even though you may view minor accomplishments as silly…For me, it’s like reaching the top of Everest and yeah, I am gonna plant my flag and pat myself on the back. Because it means I’ve survived to fight depression another day. And that’s something to be proud of.

Dick Pics, Uninvited Sexting Attempts, and WTF Is Wrong With People????

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , on July 29, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Well the donor left 7 years ago and while he’s had a revolving door of chicks he’s shacked up with and gotten engaged to…my dabbling at ‘dating’ has been few and far between because I am surrounded by mentally deficient man children whose idea of asking me out is, “Maybe we can get together when you’re not busy doing the kid thing.” Not.busy.doing.the.kid.thing. Like being a mom is a fricking hobby. LOSERS. So I gave up and purposely started sending out ‘fuck off’ vibes the last few years.

But it’s been forcefed down my throat by therapists and family and friends that I can’t get a life if I’m not willing to put myself out there so today, I did just that and gave my number to a guy who’s a cashier at a store I frequent. He’s been checking me out and chatting me up for 2 years and I just rolled the dice.

Within an hour…without my indicated ANY interest in such a thing…he sent me a picture of him with his pants down and offered to send more.

OMG, what the fuck? I know I am old and out of it but when did this become civilized, just sending a pic of your junk to someone whose number you’ve had all of an hour????I don’t parade around in skimpy clothes, I am always with my kid, I don’t go around endorsing porn and talking about how awesome sexting is (cos it’s so common it’s actually become pretty lame, especially for people over 40 to be doing it randomly)….On what planet did I send out a vibe that I wanted a pic of his junk???????

I am far from a prude. I was always the crotchless panty thigh high stocking girl in the bedroom when I was comfortable with someone and had some feelings. I am not afraid to get my freak on.

I am, however, and always have been, put off by porno movies, nudie mags, and yes, pictures of people’s junk. I like imagination, I like the routine and ritual of getting to know someone (or at least getting wasted first). I am more into erotica, things left to be discovered. Sensuality over skankiness. Maybe my age is showing but I’ve been this way since my teens when my sister was oggling an issue of Playgirl with naked rock stars and I was just like, ugh, don’t wanna see. Not that I don’t appreciate good looking men (or women) but like I said, sensuality and a little mystery over skankiness.

And this guy just kept going on about how he thinks I am sexy and have nice ‘titties’ (god I hate that fucking word) and I made it clear I was uncomfortable, put it out there that I don’t do the naked pics thing, and….not a word since. And I think I am relieved more than offended. If this is what putting myself out there amounts to, then fuck it, I will die alone. He claimed to be a shy person but um, no, I don’t think sending a dic pic an hour after you get the number is shy. Maybe my dictionry hasn’t been updated to the current skanky standards. I wasn’t expecting roses and romance, but dear god…a dic pic an hour out??????

Needless to say that wrecked my mood and I am already pms-y so I am again counting hours until bedtime. My kid has been at her grandpa’s all day (they go around and tell everyone she’d rather be at their house than home and she spends all her time there when in fact, she’s there maybe ten hours a week, delusional fucks) but I can’t sleep, I just feel so damned naive and silly giving out my number only to…be assaulted with something I didn’t ask for. And he didn’t warn me or even ask if I’d be interested so it was an assault on my eyeballs. Shame, I thought he was a nice guy. Maybe he is and I’m just too damn retro to fit into the current sexting hook up culture. But I am not changing for anyone, this is me, fuck off if you don’t like it.

Adding insult to injury, I wanted to make a trip for groceries and scraped up 50% in coins for gas money but my car only gets 26 miles hwy so I needed to be able to put a full gallon in the tank. I asked dad and stepmonster if I could borrow ONE DOLLAR, for gas, and they said no, if I needed to go so bad, they’d take me. OMG, I’m 45 years old, I don’t want to be carted around like a child. And how is them spending $6 on gas to town cheaper than giving me a measly fucking dollar?


It could be the hormones but it all makes me want to cry. Because the state of humanity is so sad but I’m the one made to feel like I am so prudish freak with a stick up my ass simply because porn-y stuff has never been my thing yet it’s in now so must become sheeple…Fuck that.

And fuck every single person who told me to put myself out there and take a chance on people because they might surprise me. All he did was reassure me that my initial impression is that people suck. Think I may change my phone ringtone to Slipknot’s “People=Shit” as a reminder to keep to myself and give no one the benefit of the doubt. And to avoid my ass trash family like the black festering psychological plague they are.

Spook’s birthday next Sunday is going to be one of those occasions I need a damn biohazard suit to keep from being infected.

I TRIED, counselors. I tried putting myself out there. Maybe since it’s all so innocent and shiny and happy in your world, I can give him your number and he can send YOU dick pics.

Humanity makes my soul cry tears of blood sometimes.

Random Rants And Musings At The Rooster Hour

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression, sleep disorders with tags , , , , , on July 29, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

I woke up from a fucked up dream for the third time around 3:30 with every intention of going back to sleep. My mind is not cooperating so thanks to my digital TV antenna, I’ve gotten to watch a couple of shows on PBS. One was about a family in Pakistan who was being threatened by the taliban because they dared to educate their daughters same as the sons and ‘girls are a burden on the family.’ Much as I try to respect and understand other cultures, I have never been on board with the sexism placed on offspring. Even in this country to do this day there are people living in the past who value boys over girls and oh, the intellectual emaciation of men who say “My wife did not give me a son.” Well, women are born only with XX chromosomes so we depend on the Y necessary for boy infants therefore it is the male failing to give a son. Basic science. And if you’re a decent human being, you’ll love your children no matter the gender. And for this Pakistani family, hats off, for the father refused to differentiate between his sons or daughters, he treated them the same as far as getting them educated and loving them, even under threaten of death by the taliban. Gotta give the man respect. I love people who go against the social grain and do what feels right to them. (Excluding terrorists and pedophiles and animal abusers, they’re just vile excrement who should be executed on sight but hey, that’s just me.)

The other show I watched was about the white house over the years and presidencies with the families. What I saw mostly were regular families forced into a spotlight yet still trying to make the best of it and have a sense of humor and a good heart. Much as I felt Obama didn’t necessarily live up to his campaign promises and Michelle Obama chose an utterly silly platform (really, let’s worry about chubby kids instead of the kids too poor to get any food, let alone healthy stuff? Seems silly to me.) But they seemed pretty down to Earth, devoted to each other and their kids, and there just wasn’t any rancor. Maybe a front, but it reminded me I wasn’t always a political hater, I wasn’t always ashamed to be an American. The current regime…Makes me feel dirty and ashamed, like I need a constant bath to wash away the hatred, corruption, and nastiness. How times have changed. Maybe we had shady presidents in the past but they kept it low key. Of course, their fan base wasn’t comprised of intellectually emaciated racists and hatemongers.

But what do I know, I am a mental health blogger. Guess when I wake at 3 a.m. and can’t get back to sleep and I am riddled with the monthly hormonal dysphoria (I got so mad last night, I actually punched a door six times, lucky I didn’t break my hand, and since I haven’t had anything like that happen in over two years…this is gonna be a bad curse but if I have to listen to my kid say something isn’t her fault one more time when it absolutely was, I am gonna implode. She’s all sweet and lovey when others are round then they leave and she’s back to screaming at me and last night, I refused to go get her Laffy Taffy so she punched me in the arm 5 times and I am so scared of them taking her from me, I feel utterly defenseless against her tantrum attacks so I send her to her room…) BREATHE. I am filled with so much rage that is not normal to me. And the cramps and backache and irritation and anxiety and the fact all I look forward to is sleep but I can’t sleep more than 2 hours at a time…And I am hungry as hell but I have no energy to fix anything to eat.

“My heart and mind are not yet aligned.”

I stole that line from some TV show but it seems appropriate enough a description. A week from now minus the hormonal surge I may change my mind. But to my credit, at least I know to walk away outdoors when I feel myself going hormonally nuts. Then she follows me outside and starts in again about candy or whatever and it’s like there is no escape, even in the bathroom, within five minutes she is outside the door making demands. She had a fit because “I’m not getting much for my birthday cos you guys are all always broke.” When she is so disrespectful and lacking in gratitude, truthfully, I don’t want to give her more than a cupcake with a candle on it, a chintzy toy she’ll break or lose in 5 minutes, and move along. I guess that’s my damage, but she’s turning 9, she still hits me and screams at me (lesser since we moved but it still does happen) and she doesn’t treat anyone else the way she treats me. I am busting my ass for her and….nothing. Kids may be takers by nature but my kid has elevated it to an art form and what fears me most is she may never outgrow it. They say personality is basically solidified by age 7 so…it’s terrifying. And I say no all the time, I give her limits (I made her write an essay yesterday on why I had to send her friend home because she wouldn’t share her toys and kept yelling at him.) I am doing everything I know and…

Juggling my own mental issues. Some situational, some not. Because when I can’t even go to yard sales and enjoy them…my brain chemicals are not right. When my cat loves on me and I just want them to go away and leave me alone…my brain is not right. That’s not situational. That’s clinical.

It will be light out soon. I want to go back to sleep, my back is killing me from the cramps. But if the mind doesn’t cooperate even with melatonin and Xanax…my one escape has been taken away.

Fuck this, only roosters should be up at this hour. Bet they got more sleep than I did so they crow with happiness.

I just want to fucking sleep. And ya know, get to a point where my mind is feeling so well, I get bummed at bedtime because hey, I could be writing or reading or doing crafts, I could be doing things I usually love. I want that back. I want sleep to be a necessity, not a luxury, not a way to escape only to end up more frustrated.

I just want to feel well again. I don’t think that’s unreasonable.

But as Sebastian Bach once was said on a Skid Row home video doc, “If you think, you stink.”

I’d give up thinking but again…no cooperation from the brain. Ass trash.

Dear Followers…Sorry…Really, I Am Sorry

Posted in depression with tags , , , , , on July 27, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

I received two donations towards Spook’s birthday/school clothes funds and due to shit memory, I forgot my password to log into gofundme so I could send proper thank yous days ago. I keep thinking, ‘I’ll feel better tomorrow” but…meh, depression doesn’t really work that way. I seem to get one high functioning day a week and I never know when that will be so…I truly am sorry for my breach in etiquette, for we truly are grateful for the donations. Every little bit help, and even a share helps restore faith in humankind. Even if this week I have been a poor example myself with shit manners. Really am sorry.

I am hormonal, crampy, and my sleep has become so plagued with disturbance, I never feel rested. Just exhausted all the damned time and you’d think the doctor might want to do something about that but meh, they toss either coma drugs or weak ass anti-histamine-wanna-be-sleep-drugs because the stuff that works for actual sleep like Lunesta or whatever isn’t covered by shit insurance so sucks to be me.

And today, it really does suck to be me. I am in such a dark, listless space. When I say all I look forward to is is one of those days when it’s not merely a mind frame. It’s literally all I can think of every two minutes, clock watching, waiting, hoping the time passes quickly, praying for night time so I can shed this day and this mind frame like the nasty rotting layer of skin it is. I even tried to outrage myself into a different state of mind by giving in and watching the freaky futuristic Altered Carbon. But I can’t even work up outrage today. I am in a blackened room and sleep is my only respite but tick tock slowly goes the clock…5 and a half hours at least before the spawn wears down and crashes so I can follow suit.

I’d like to say “I’d kill” for a good night’s sleep but apparently these days, you can’t publicly say a fucking thing without it coming back to haunt you as being in bad taste, poor humor, racially insensitive, disrespectful of murder victims and the dead, who the fuck knows. Last time I was on a page about the current supreme court nominee there was clickbait about Zac Efron sporting dreads so people were in an uproar about A FUCKING HAIRSTYLE. Because white people haven’t been sporting dreads as fun fashion statements until right this fucking news cyclel. God, the idiocy around us boggles the mind. Makes me grateful I have whacked out brain chemicals and can be set off by such stupidity. Because if I had ‘normal’ brain chemicals like the masses allegedly do, then I’d be just as intellectually emaciated as them. A FUCKING HAIRSTYLE TRUMPS SOME DUDE WHO IS GOING TO GET A LIFETIME APPOINTMENT TO THE SUPREME COURT.

I’m starting to think the current state of things in the U.S> is a new mental disorder of its own called Trumpdashian Braindeath. If you can look around and not be depressed, you’re either on better drugs, delusional, or Republican. (Oh, that will bite me on the ass, no doubt, but hey, if you’re a Republican with enough intelligence to at least respect differing opinions, no problem here, it’s the mindless followers I want to club with Z-whackers.) Fuck. I went political, that’s never good and it was never something I gave a damn about until…well, everyone started drinking the Kool-Aid. Nothing pisses me off more than mindless following, religious or political affiliation be damned. Think for yourself, have your principles, but for fuck’s sake, never be too zealous to admit when you might be wrong or others’ points of view might be valid, too. Even I can do that much, which is why I triple and quadruple check any story I read about current political events. Much as I like a great witch hunt, I’m thinking multiple sources of multiple affiliations, you’re probably close to the truth there. And more than being right or being agreed with, I just want the fucking truth.

Even when it feeds the Frankenstein that is my depression. I can’t believe how far down the rabbit hole I have fallen, and some of it must be related to improper sleep. Even when my kid’s not home for me to stress out about, I can’t stay asleep. And I want to stay asleep.

So there you have it. Sorry, truly, for lapses in etiquette and my gratitude is true.

Sorry not sorry for the political tirade, it’s gotten downright asinine out there and since I am willing to admit my view isn’t the only view or even necessarily the right view…I have no use for others who can’t do the same. It may cost me followers but…I’m so far down the rabbit hole, launching a few social nukes seems the least of my worries.

And the true blue who read this blog because it resonates in some way…won’t be run off by some hormonal prattling and a small tirade about what we all know to be true. Half of America has joined a cult and aren’t just drinking the Kool-Aid, they’re snorting it in dry powder form, too.

To those I offended who are decent human beings….well, me having my own, perhaps contrary opinion, wouldn’t offend you if you were decent, so….meh.


It was brought to my attention that I did not include the link to Spook’s fundraiser. Kid wants a birthday and school clothes and pencils (they do still use those these days, right?) and all that stuff so any help is much appreciated.

The Futility Of A Depressive Existence

Posted in depression with tags , , , , , on July 7, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

I am down the rabbit hole today and not sure why, other than monthly hormone fluctuations. I can’t blame the oppressive heat because it’s cooled off significantly. My kid isn’t channeling satan. My family has yet to darken my phone line or door step. Nothing traumatic has happened. Such are my mood cycles. The doctors always want a reason, a trigger, and sometimes…there isn’t one other than I HAVE A DEPRESSIVE DISORDER, duh.

I managed two trips to town this week. Needed to go in today for cat food but it will keep another day. I can’t seem to do two trips in a row anymore. Just too mentally taxing, all the activity, noise, people, colors. Sensory overload. July 4th, morning, anyway, I was feeling pretty good even though melting like the wicked witch. I wore a bra, I put on make up, we made a trip to town for some groceries. But then we came home and my kid had a friend over then proceeded to do nothing but yell at him and no amount of correcting her or standing her against the wall did any good. I didn’t really like dad and them sweeping my kid away for a cookout (which, FYI, I wasn’t invited to) and leaving me alone on the holiday because she’s my kid, not theirs, but I can’t punish Spook with my zero desire for social interaction. And also, I wasn’t invited. I don’t know why I keep mentioning that, I don’t know those people, met them once, but based on how they treat the little boy and the dog, I don’t much like them so it’s not like I wanted to go. I think it was just basically being excluded from being with my child, dismissed as it were, was very very rude of my dad’s faction.

But they brought her back early enough we set off some sparklers dad bought her then we were in bed before 11 pm. Party animals. The heat takes it out of me. When you’re running the window AC and five fans and the temp inside is still 89…pretty miserable, especially in 8 days stretches. Thursday we had a blissful day without any word from them, though I got hit with cramps from hell and was so tired, I could barely walk room to room. I just looked forward to bedtime. Which for someone who can’t stay asleep more than a couple of hours is just frustrating so if I am looking forward to nothing but that…my mental state is pretty bad.

I had one of *those* nights last night. Crashed by 10:30, woke in a half panic around 2:30 a.m. and my racing thoughts just wouldn’t let up. The more I thought about needing to sleep while I could cos soon my kid would be up just made me more stressed and that didn’t aid in sleep. I eventually took another melatonin and half a Xanax…only to still be awake at 5 a.m as the sky lightened and the stupid birds started in with their little “This is my branch, it is not your branch” sing songing. At some point I nodded off…and Spook woke me before 7:30. It’s going to be a long day. My body feels bruised and beaten, my mind feels tapped out and while she is behaving pretty well, Spook is wound for sound and making lots of gleeful noise. This on top of trash trucks, trains, and lawn mowers….half a Xanax time. Otherwise panxiety sets in and worse than plain old anxiety is when the paranoia piles on and you start feeling like the world is out to get you and something bad is going to happen. I try to avoid taking Xanax when I can, especially during the day lest it randomly make me sleep (99% of the time it doesn’t but a few times it has and I can’t risk it with my kid on the loose) so if I am taking a pill…I am borderline freaking out.

It just has gotten to a point where my existence feels futile because depression just never shuts up, never truly dies down or even recedes. And even worse, I ponder what ifs, as in, “Well, maybe it’s *this* existence, constantly struggling with money, overwhelmed by noise, bogged down with oppressive family members…So I let myself imagine another life, something without money worries, something a little glamorous and exciting, like being a celebrity loved by millions…And frankly, even that existence seems pretty futile to me. I don’t think I could handle the stimuli overload and I definitely could not spend my days being a bubbleheaded shopaholic and partying every night to the wee hours. Now if even someone else’s supposedly great existence feels futile to me…I’d hazard a guess that my depression is far from stabilized. And with the psych center’s staffing issues it doesn’t look positive that it will get straightened out any time soon.

So here I am in limbo, perpetually trying to find reasons to make life worthwhile other than my kid, cats and TV shows that occasionally make me happy. (REALLY into Cloak And Dagger, maybe because it taps into how powerless I feel and how I wish I had some superpower that could help me dig myself out of this depressive snakepit…Oh, wow, what an insult to snakes, they are beautiful creatures who wouldn’t stoop to hang out in a depressive pit.)

If I want to be fair, though, I did get a couple of very supportive, flattering comments on my blog this week and that did bring some measure of comfort and ‘keep spewing it’ fire in the belly. While less concerned that my grammar is not always kosher and I am typo queen…when someone says that I put into words thing they have thought but couldn’t articulate in such a dead on way…That was the entire point of starting this blog. We all struggle through this, feeling so lost, so alone, and just on occasion, we stumble on something like a random blog post that gives us hope (I envy writers who can stay on topic and not write novel length posts of rambling like I do, but this is me.) and it makes it all seem less futile and worthwhile.

For today, though…I guess it’s the rabbit hole and lurking panxiety ninjas and cramps and just feeling like drawing breath is too exhausting. The tides will shift. They always do. I just wish they’d shift to a more positive place and STAY there. I don’t want to feel this way. That anyone should have to feel this way sickens me. Living with this darkness in your own mind, no matter how hard you try and fight….It’s cruel and unusual and for so many of us, it is reality.

And reality bites.