Archive for sleep disturbance

Brain Drain

Posted in sleep disorders with tags , , , , , on May 15, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Well, I woke up almost 2 hours ago and haven’t been able to get back to sleep. I guess that power ninja nap (I didn’t see it coming, the melatonin kicked in so fast) for 90 minutes recharged me enough to be awake. I shouldn’t be surprised that I zonked the way I did. Time in the petri dish, a child with extreme ups and downs, dealing with my own abject failure as a potential employee than going to war with my father…It was all one big brain drain. Though I can’t help but wonder if I’d have stayed asleep had I not had multiple kittens playing feline death match with my legs as the arena. Claw marks are not conducive to sleep.

I kicked them out of my room because I couldn’t even eat my microwave popcorn in peace.They burgle fruit, veggies, ice cream, popcorn. The only foods I have found they absolutely won’t eat are baked beans, stuffing, and the cheap ass food I’ve been buying them. They are so adorable yet so distracting. Even now one of them is clawing at my door.

It’s raining out, I can hear it clink clink clink on the broken window AC unit. Normally I find rain a calming sound. Tonight it just reminds me I’m kind of cold. My kingdom for a 5 day stretch with sunshine and temps in the 70’s so my mood can gain some ground.

The insomnia/sleep disturbance is driving me bonkers. I keep replaying my mom jumping down my throat earlier for daring to mention being spaced out due to lack of sleep. Not liking either of my parents much right now after their treatment of me yesterday. And it’s not like it was anything new, they’re always on my case, running me down, it’s all they have ever done, all the while insisting this is normal family behavior and the way to express love and concern. That’s why when my dad came at me, I said, “A NORMAL PERSON WOULD HAVE SAID (THIS).” I know my family is not normal or remotely mentally healthy. And that was confirmed by every counselor who ever met them when my sister and I were going through major episodes and the family counseling thing was brought up. Dad appeared once, then said no more so it was the three of us, and the counselors all said, “Wow, Niki, you really are the normal one.” THAT has to tell you how FUBAR my family ties are.

I’m not particularly tired, my brain is actually starting to rapid cycle. I could use some buspar but then I’d have to open my bedroom door and the cats would stampede in and it took me long enough to herd them out.Scumbag brain keeps reminding me that 6:45 a.m. comes way too soon so I should be sleeping. But tomorrow nothing is on the agenda except puttering about the house and hoping I can get my shit together enough to do a little more chiseling at that slab of stone known as my hoarder-esque dining room. I guess that is the biggest reason I always feel so rushed to get to sleep. Because if I wake up several more times as usual and can’t get back to sleep, then I’m right back to night fucking up my day. It causes me anxiety which causes worse insomnia, round and round we go.

And there is that whole hell spawn thing, and neither of us being morning people, so mornings here can get pretty contentious. No rush for that. But it’s only 6 more days then summer break. Where the contention will simmer and stew for 3 months while she screams I’M BORED, DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT, MOM, IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT. Oh, summertime.

Maybe I’ll start getting some quality uninterrupted sleep once the rigid daily routine is off the table. Maybe pegacorns will rescue me from Armpitopia. Anything is possible, I suppose.


My Name Is Mud

Posted in depression with tags , , , , , on May 14, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

My sister called me a scammer today when I have her a print out to pass around for Spook’s vacation fundraiser and said her friends won’t help. Truth be told, I don’t care if some random nice person wants to do the campaign and hold onto the money until it’s time to go. It’s not scam. This is what Spook wanted but now her heart is getting smooshed and her confidence is getting crushed and DAMN IT INTERNET, SERIOUSLY, YOU CANNOT EVEN CLICK LIKE ON HER YOUTUBE???NOT LIKE IT COSTS A PENNY. It would make all the difference for her, damn it.

THEN I had a blow out on the phone with my dad over him being on my ass about getting the same job as my brother so I can be his ride to town. I finally stood up for myself and I was firm, but not foul mouthed or belligerent. My dad started screaming at me. He told me I am a lazy whiner like his brother and he doesn’t want to hear a word about being broke because I think I am too good for fast food work.

I had no sitter. There were 30 people ahead of me. My kid had her pupils dilated and was fussing. So yeah, I didn’t stick around, fuck me, I am a lazy whining useless ass trash motherfucker. They do this every Tuesday so it will come around again but what won’t change-and he can’t grasp this- is that I’ve been trying for years to get on there. They don’t want me, damn it.

He screamed some more and I thought he was gonna hang up on me after berating me because his anxiety and stress are way worse than mine, according to him…I said, “A normal person would just say, sorry it’s stressing you out, we just won’t talk about it.” He ranted more. Then…

We had a 15 minute conversation about everything but that. I thought, wow, maybe my dad has turned over a new leaf and learned not to be an immature 72 year old grudge holder.

I was wrong cos later he brought scraps by for the cats and barely spoke to me and took off ASAP. Every other time he stuck around a half hour plus and yapped at me. I really pissed him off and I really am not sorry. I wasn’t rude, I just asserted myself and told him how his actions are worsening my disabilities. But narcissists don’t give a damn and don’t want to hear it, and oh, yeah, they NEVER FUCKING CHANGE.

I made the grave error of mentioning off handedly to my mom that I haven’t been sleeping well cos the Abilify winds me up and she said WHY AREN’T YOU SLEEPING, IT’S NOT LIKE YOU WORK AND HAVE ANYTHING ON YOUR MIND? UNLESS YOU DID SOMETHING WRONG.

Zero concept of clinical depression and med side effects.

Oh, well. A door closed but a window opened as I had an email telling me I can get an interview for the day camp gig next week. I immediately emailed back with total availability. They said my app stood out. I hope that’s in a good way and I hope they get back to me so I know it’s real. Hell, I printed out the email just to be sure I wasn’t so exhausted I was seeing things.

So…lazy, loser, whiner, scam artist, insomnia faker, unemployed monster..I’ve been very busy today being an asshole, apparently. Only family can make you feel so shitty but mean well.

I am trying not to dwell on it. BUT I do wish some of you would just click like on my kid’s youtube page, you don’t even have to watch the videos, she just wants encouragement and to know people sort of care. Please do that for her.

A Heartfelt Thank You

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , on May 14, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

(In response to last night’s post, A Heartfelt Plea)

To my gleeful surprise, someone was kind enough to deposit gas money into our paypal. I did not receieve an email or comment to interact with her, so if she reads this…I want her to know how very thankful Spook and I are. I can put enough gas in the car to get us through our necessary appointments until the 31rst and I will be able to buy a small bag of cat litter since the boxes are reeking. That act of generosity and kindness means everything to us. It means someone believes that I am trying my hardest, it means someone has faith in me and believes my words and emotions behind them. It means…I was wrong about humanity being completely devoid of value these days. I LOVE being proven wrong, it really makes me happy. I know that sounds nuts, but I am a little crazy and wired very differently so being proven wrong…is a good thing for me.

My kid has already had a mini meltdown tantrum. Over a pair of pants covered in cat hair that the lint brush wasn’t helping so I said nope, not wearing those public. She went OFF, stomping so hard her flip flops came off her feet and snarling and yelling THESE ARE THE ONLY PANTS I HAVE THAT WILL MATCH! She was wearing a black t-shirt, everything matches a black t-shirt. When she starts in like that, the anger boils through my blood, because I know this is NOT my child. The more it happens, the more I know, something organic is wrong with her brain. It’s like she feels every emotion times a thousand so it’s all extremes and she can’t seem to utilize any of the coping skills the counselor and I have tried to teach her because she is on overload. To me, that isn’t simply behavioral. It sounds like something that medication could correct and improve her life quality. I am going to ask the pediatrician the 21rst when she does the well kid check up if we can get a referral to my psych center. I don’t see any harm in having her evaluated. My family keeps telling me I just want her to be a mess like me so I am programming her with doctors and counselors and wanting to put her on meds. Um, I have fought the last 7 years to keep her off meds and believe me, my life would have been much easier had I just jumped on the ‘high strung kid, must be ADHD, have some pills’ wagon. But now that I see how she struggles, and then how she ‘comes down’ and apologizes after these outbursts…I think she needs help that I can’t provide nor can her guidance counselor.

Looking forward to getting this day over with. I was so anxious about the interview last night, I think I took 300 mg antihistamines just to get to sleep. I woke a couple of times but was so leaden and sleepy, I went right back down. Then at 6:30 I laid back down, thinking, oh, I have an extra hour today…But I also knew feeling that loopy and leaden, I needed to force myself to get up and get moving. So I woke myself up by blasting Leo’s metal version of Die Antwoord’s “I feek you freaky”. That did the trick. Man, no brain can snooze through that beautiful cacophany that Leo recreated with his own flavor. A thing of obnoxious audio beauty.

I think I will just take Spook with me to the interview, since mom can’t watch her and honestly, I can’t afford to rack up 80 extra miles and gas money running her back so she can be at school 90 minutes and still be counted absent the whole day. It either counts for me as in she has a kid and needs work, or against me, as in she has a kid and can’t even find a sitter for a half hour. My dad told me to take her to my mom;s but my mom is busy today, so that shows you what he knows. He only thinks he knows it all. I am glad I called to ask her before making an asshole assumption.) Whatever, let’s just do this and be done with it. I may have slept the sleep of the dead, but my anxiety and panic are in the stratosphere. I’ve used antiperspirant three times and still my armpits are sweaty. Think I need those new DFA approved wipes for excessive sweating, geesh. My stomach is wonky, I am hungry but no way, even with the pepcid a friend sent me, is my stomach stable enough for food right now. Everything is on hold until this is over with. I try to talk myself out of that line of thought but this is just how it’s always been for me. Let’s face it, though. Any activity where I am forced to wear a bra is gonna be something I can’t wait to get over with.

I’m not hypomanic anymore. That two day phase has ended. Not quite to splat yet, either. Just coming down. It is, like I’ve always said, a lot like a drug, being bipolar and having manic episodes. You get so high, you think nothing can touch you and you are too happy to entertain the possible bad outcomes of your extreme behaviors. Then the high either turns into immediate splat or slow free fall splat and it’s like coming off a drug. I would assume but I’ve never really dabbled with many drugs so I can only assume that’s how it is.

Now to put on the dreaded torture device called a bra and a ‘ladylike blouse’ so I can feign being a civil muggle mundane worker bee who is all cured and not at all disabled anymore. Blah.
PLEASE COULD SOMEONE VISIT MY KID’S YOUTUBE PAGE AND CLICK LIKE OR LEAVE A COMMENT??? This morning she said she was gonna delete it ‘since everyone hates me’. Yeah, I know, it’s a little manipulative but I have that feeling myself sometimes so…throw the dog a bone. Or feed the spawn a soul, whatever euphamism you want to use.

Spork of fortitude for anyone who just clicks a heart or share for her vacay project.

And I posted a couple different video clips, if you wanna check it out.

I Feel Like A Fraud

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , on May 6, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

No, I have not committed any crimes. I am, perhaps to a fault, too genuine when it comes to not quashing my personality, big as it may be, just so others with smaller personalities are put at ease, so nothing fraudulent there. Yet, here I am, feeling ‘better’ after months of barely functioning, and because we need money and I HAVE to find work and sooner rather than later…people seem to think I am all better and was never disabled to begin with, just lazy. They also seem to think that I am being manipulative or self pitying when I mention how pretty much everyone-even hardcore antisocial gun nut potheads- are being hired for jobs and I am getting nothing but rejection. It’s a fact. It is very damaging to the self esteem when ONE POOR CHOICE MADE ALMOST 20 YEARS AGO WHICH YOU HAVE COMPLETELY LEGALLY ATONED FOR STILL PREVENTS YOU FROM GETTING EMPLOYMENT. Rather than pity myself, I actually find it infuriating and wish I knew what channels to go through to create a petition and lobby this state’s lawmakers so people like me aren’t left out in the cold this way when it comes to earning a living.

But much as I am doing better-ish and trying to put my best face forward and be better…I still feel like a fraud. Because I am not stable. I am not sleeping much or well. My meds are not solid. My psych provider is a shit show. 80% of my big stress stems from living so close to my dad here in Armpitopia and I then get filled with self loathing cos hey, no one can make you feel inferior unless you give them permission…which is a crock. Family can make you feel inferior for drawing breath. Not everyone has the loving supportive cohesive family thing going on. Some of us got stuck with icky parents whose only joy in life seems to be in putting us down and nagging us to the point of no self esteem and just wanting to die.

I. feel. like. a. fraud.

I saw R was at his shop today and stopped in since I had 20 minutes before the wedding shower. Filled him in on how everyone is working but me. (No, that was not me crawling back to him, he got someone who helps the shop run more efficiently than I did, and I am cool with it, I don’t want to go backwards.) He asked if I got those jobs I applied for and I told him no go without the state waiver. AND I CAN’T EVEN GET THE CHARACTER REFERENCE LETTERS NEEDED FOR THE STATE AND THE JUDGE TO GET THIS SHIT IN MOTION. I knew it was gonna be a pain since everyone I know considers reading and writing punishment. I am at their mercy and it sucks. I wasn’t entirely shocked to find out in spite of having had a heart attack, he’s still smoking and drinking. And in spite of having a good job with benefits on his and wife’s side, he is missing a front tooth and can’t pay three grand out of pocket then wait for reimbursement to fix it. WHAT IS THE POINT OF INSURANCE IF PEOPLE CAN’T EVEN USE IT???? I kinda felt bad for him even if technically he has it way better than me.

He complained that the family won’t allow him to discuss politics. But they spent all last night talking baseball teams and it resulted in an ugly scene and the grown kids and grandkids were MIA from his house come morning. Same shit, different year. He even texted toward evening wanting to come over here and talk and it’s like no, I got one night to finish mowing the lawn before the next monsoon wave and the place is a mess inside and I’m just…not in the mood. And since I am no longer beholden to him by being his shop wench and working towards a car…I get to have a spine and say nope, not a good night. And he can no longer guilt trip me.

But this whole “I’m looking for work” thing just…it feels fraudulent. Because beyond ten hours a week, I don’t think I am *there* yet in terms of stability. Yet I have no choice but to try to convince myself, and others, that I am doing great. The world only wants you to be honest if it doesn’t impact them negatively and if I am anything but stable, willing and able to work, and in control of my mental illnesses, then the rats abandon ship.

The bridal shower was an awkward event. I knew right away it was gonna be grueling cos they had a scentsy wax thing going and it was some sort of coffee bean smell that made me feel like gagging. Aside from my mom, my sis, her friend M, my kid, and the bride to be, I knew no one there. And instead of panicking and going into inferiority complex meltdown…I decided to just be myself, even with my off color humor. I did watch my language, for the most part, but some of these young women had all the personality and signs of life as a corpse. I guess my big personality and neverending snarks and jokes might be too much for them to take in. Frankly, if I had personality zero, I’d find that harder to take than someone who’s kind of ‘larger than life’. My sister thanked me for going and said my humor really broke the ice and made at least our side of the family faction feel more at ease. That’s good cos the bride to be’s money spending nanna sat beside me giving me the stink eye any time I dared to speak. One point, I turned in my chair so my shoulder was toward her cos I don’t need the judgement.

Spook and I came home. I have mowed everything but the front ditch and my leg muscles are aching.

Oh, and awesomeness here-the crap ass fridge we got last year secondhand has busted door seals so it wasn’t quite shut top or bottom since this morning around 6-ish…So now our food for the next 10 days is either ruined or too suspect to be trusted so I am gonna have to go to town tomorrow and apply for the food bank assistance. At least the ice cubes and popsicles will refreeze. I hope. I can’t catch a bloody break here in any fashion and it’s really tearing me down.

Now I need supper but since I can’t buy Pepcid, food results in mid night reflux of agony so then again, I may not bother to eat. Sometimes a growling empty belly is better than a chest full of acid reflux that goes for hours.

I’m doing better-ish. I wish I was doing wondermously and all cured or stabilized but…

I’m still a hot mess and a train wreck with a plane crash in the middle. The people around me don’t wanna know, they want the fraudulent version of me as being all better and normal and…

I find it hard to live with myself in good conscience knowing full well that it’s 85% a front designed one, cos I gotta support my kid, and two, because others expect it so they aren’t made uncomfortable by my issues.

I don’t like feeling like a fraud and I resent a world where this is not just acceptable, but seemingly preferred by others.

So much for just being true to who you are.


Oh, I am to remind of fundraiser as she broke her tablet and I sure as hell ain’t letting her use mine. She’s on her third tablet cos she is a bull in a china shop. I may let her use the circa 2001 Dell laptop at some point but til then…I will promote her cause.


Ready To Call It A Day At 9 A.M.

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , on May 5, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I would say I’ve been up since * but I woke so often, I don’t know I ever really slept, not deep sleep. Let’s just say I was too sleepy to stay awake for Beakman’s World at 7 so I slept until 8:30. And my kid wasn’t even here. Between cramps, sinus drainage, the anxiety of my dad and his woman invading my space and yapping for over an hour, then him chewing me out about the stuff in the shed and the impending bridal shower…Gahhhh. I get so frustrated by this sleep thing, and while the Abilify seems to be helping me not want to go to bed all the time to escape reality…it seems it has heightened what was already a pretty severe sleep deficit.

So I was awake long enough to feed the cats, put on clothes, and then my dad was banging out the door, bossing me around like he does. And me being me, I don’t respond well to being bullied so when he told me to hurry it up, I purposely slowed down because, hey, saying, can you please speed it up a bit NEVER murdered anyone and I don’t abide rudeness. He lectured me cos I was indeed huffing and puffing as we dragged a pick up truck load of ruined stuff from the shed and he lectured how he’s 72 and in better shape…What he didn’t seem to HEAR is that I hadn’t had my damn antihistamine so I wasn’t gasping for air cos I’m out of shape, I was literally drowning in fricking drainage and choking on it.

Plus side, at least it’s done and now he can get the fuck off my back. Oh but I still have half my lawn and a ditch to mow so if I don’t have that done in the next hour or so, he’ll be crawling up my ass about that and again…I work at my own pace and I don’t respond to bullies and rudeness, so he should just piss off and let me be the 46 year old woman I am.

Man, my daughter is super excited about the fundraiser to get us to Six Flags by August…I’d just as soon raise money to move back to town, away from my nag of a father and all his bullshit which truly is what makes living in Armpitopia so unappetizing. One man can ruin everything to that degree, what a fucking legacy. Him and the donor can die proudly with that in place.

But yeah, even if you guys don’t want to donate or can’t, it really doesn’t take much to click ‘share’ and like for her little youtube channel and her fundraising efforts. She’s a sweet kid who truly has never been on a vacation so it’s a good cause but if anyone gets slim finances it is us. (It’s gonna cost me $84 to get my cats’ flea meds, aye carumba!) Just click like or share or leave her a lil comment saying sup or something Minecrafty and you will make her day.

As for me…hell, I’m curling up in bathtubs to escape the incessant noise of mowers and trains and I feel so damned hopeless over the job situation but I keep applying places…I just feel like I am never gonna escape one bad mistake I made almost 20 years ago. How can one fucking misdemeanor cause so much trouble? I did wrong, I am not asking for absolution. But there are people with arm long felony records who don’t have to go through as many hoops-and hope it gets granted-as I do for a waiver to even be a hospital cafeteria lady or janitor. It truly is gonna be the end of me because it seems to be my only big stumbling block. People have been willing to give me a chance but due to that idiotic state law, they can’t, and if I can’t work in the fields where the jobs are open…

Gah gah gah.

I am going to stop and take a breath and will this day to pass fast. Bitchy as it makes me, I am in no mood to go hang out with the 20 year old woo girls and make toilet paper wedding gowns or whatever goes on at these things cos…I never had one and I don’t recall ever being invited to one before. Now if I had a fist ful of dollar bills, drink tickets, and a designated driver, I’d be on board with the bachelor party to the strip club.

I suck at being a girl, okay, I own it. But loud music and gyrating dance moves sounds like a hell of a lot more fun than giggling girls and the pastel barf of a thousand wedding shower decorations….

Bedtime Tango

Posted in panic disorder, sleep disorders with tags , , , , on May 4, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I zonked out at 8:30 p.m. Woke again at 9 ish,then a little after 10. Now even crampy and exhausted,I cannot slow down my brain.

I have so much to get done while Spook is staying tomorrow night at her cousin’s… it is making me toss and turn and get tangled in bedding then I throw off the blankets. Sit up mid panic attack,pissed off,worn out and frustrated.

Like some demented bedtime tango.

I doubt it would have me so bent if it were not for my dad nagging me to clean my shed while the town has dumpsters out til Sunday. I don’t know why he cannot leave me alone and butt out. I even tried to talk to stepmonster about how he is stressing me out and rather than read him the riot act to let me be…she wants to play hey,I know,I have to live with him,I am the poor lil woman who cannot speak up to daddy. Yes,she calls him daddy,soo gross.

Digressing. I try to fight my injustice collecting but that woman is such a fake and everyone knows she is in charge there so her poor victim act where she cannot even speak up to help improve my mental health…she is not my blood,they are not married, she has no legal rights to Spook. Once dad is gone I am gonna remember all the times she could have helped stand up for me and her place in our lives is gonna be tiny.

Fyi I went off on my dad on the shed matter and said I would deal with it. He called FOUR more times to bug me about it and does not a hear a word I say. He reminds me of a fellow 72 year old man child who when disagreed with starts name calling and saying,go to hell. My dad just doesn’t do it on Twitter.

Ok, I vented and it got me through the panic attacks til the meds kicked in. Maybe now I can sleep.

The Brambling Blues

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , , , on May 3, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I woke every hour on the hour. At 3:30 I said fuck it, got up, and then my sinus drainage started drowning me and choking me so I’ve been awake since. The Atarax doesn’t seem to be helping but that’s because it has to be taken every single day to function properly for my allergy and sinus problems. Psych nurse took me off of it because adding it to Xanax and Buspar would be ‘too sedating’. Bullshit. I just took 100 mg Atarax and 0.5 Xanax and I’m still bloody awake at 5:38 a.m. I wish it was too sedating, then I might actually get 5 solid hours of sleep at some point. Oh, uninterrupted sleep, my purple pegacorn…

I am starving but I don’t wanna feed myself. It really is too much effort to nuke some scrambled eggs.

I think that’s artifact of the last week with all the day and night dissonance. I am exhausted. My body is sore and aching and tired and I can’t recharge my battery so I just keep running on empty. And people are wondering why I am short tempered, easily irritated, and pissed off for seemingly no reason. I’m hormonal, I’m bipolar, and I am not getting restful sleep so hello, I am just plain worn out.

I will probably get the spawn off to school then check out a couple of addresses on the ‘city wide’ yard sale flyer. I have some coins so who knows, I might just find that quirky little item for a quarter that makes it all worthwhile. That is how I felt when I stopped at a yard sale back in 2017 and found my stuffed Freddy Krueger doll. You just never know.

maybe after that I can sleep. Oh, unlikely, my dad will be knocking on the door about dragging all the junk out of the shed to haul to the dumpster for city clean up. Most of the shit in here there was there when we moved in, the landlord should have hauled it all off. He never remembered to put a lock on the door, though, so I am back to trailer park living where I do my best to fix shit for myself cos it’s just easier.
Except our trailer is now a cute little house on a bucolic corner of Armpitopia.
Spook and I miss our trailer. You can take mom and spawn out of the trailer park but you can’t take the trailer park out of us. Awful as it could be there, it was our jam.Probably a good thing we were forced to move and get a house. I was apparently too complacent living in a shithole.
Well trained in shame…

I am really tired of being put on the spot constntly at every turn by people asking, “Where are you working?” or “Don’t you need to go to work?”
Part of it is my own poor self esteem because yes, I want to be well enough to work reliably and knowing I’m not there yet stings.
It’s also social stigma, though. People butting in when it’s none of their business even if they are well meaning.
This is why I think-pegacorn-al delusion it may be- I would prosper if I could work from home on the computer. This is my safe sane space and this is where I excel when not crippled with depression and anxiety. Getting my self esteem back by working from home would go a long way toward helping me heal and regain stability.
So you’re gonna have to forgive me if I keep carrying that work from home oegacorn torch. It’s kinda like finding Mr./Ms. Right: I cannot ever give up hope, hope is the only thing that keeps you going in this shit show called life.
I had a stone cold panic attack awhiel ago…

I was trying to navigate a street which was packed with yard sale seeking cars and I had so little space to pass between a truck and car that I held my breath and closed one eye while my head began to spin in a dizzying fashion. It was semi shut down and all I could think was, is my insurance paid current?
Terrifying to lose control over your senses that way behind the wheel of a car. Insulting that people don’t think panic attacks are serious and damaging.
I am sooo tired…

3 a.m. start makes for a very long morning. I’d like to get warm under blankies and take a nap but my dad has me on red alert for when he decides he wants to haul all that stuff from my shed…It’s like I can’t breathe because I am under his thumb. I am 46 year old woman who did not get enough rest, I should be entitled to a fucking nap without taking shit from him.
Reality isn’t that way, though.
Playing nice with others…

Not my strong suit. I mean, I can do basic civility, hello, goodbye, please, thank you…But there’s this high school girl my kid knows and if I set foot outside in the morning while they are waiting for the bus, next thing I know she is in my yard, and talking to me. Not to my kid, to me. And I smile and play nice and occasionally I even get cocky and think, hey, I am rocking this forced socialization thing…
Mainly it makes me uneasy and want to stay inside, I have so little control over the rude family members constantly forcing their presence in my safe space. I need to be able to shy away and be my skittish self and not have it be some mortal rudeness wound to others.
Socializing is what keeps some people going. For me, it’s one more stressor that is my undoing.
Fugly fact…
my feet are so cold today that I am doing the unthinkable…
getting out my hideous thick green ugly socks. They are just so damn warm.
May 3 and I still can’t get warm, geesh, midwest, fuck you too.
I wanna be an orphan…

I had hot rollers in my hair and my dad called, said we’re moving the stuff from the shed, so I had less than 5 mins to get the curlers out and start dragging stuff from the shed. The whole time he was bitching at me for not going through the middle room and getting rid of everything (clothes, fine, but the glassware is fine and I wanna keep it), he just kept nagging and bitching and…Meanwhile, I dragged out 4 full size mattresses-4 box springs, and a queen mattress all by myself, then helped hoist them on the pick up and …he just kept griping. Not a ‘wow, you kicked some ass doing all that alone’. God forbid he ever give me an ounce of positive reinforcement.
And fuck me for even needing the positive reinforcement. Pathetic.

Sooo rethinking my nicknaming of this place…which had nothing to do with this guy, I just…have an attitude toward small towns cos they have always had an attitude toward me.
“If you live in the Midwest, where else do you want to live besides Chicago? You don’t want to live in Cincinnati or Cleveland or, you know, these armpits of America.” So declared Stephen Moore, the man Donald Trump wants to install on the Federal Reserve’s Board of Governors, during a 2014 event held at a think tank called, yes, the Heartland Institute.
If I can’t call it Armpitopia anymore without linking myself to that douche…I am gonna need to put some thought into renaming it.

has 5 appointments in town before my next check so to my chagrin, we’re still needing paypal donations to keep gas in the car and food in the fridge. Five or ten bucks may not seem significant to you, but for us, it can be the difference between having a good meal and making an appointment or going hungry and missing appointments.


I am tired of mentioning it as you are tired of hearing it.
Shame it’s not legal to threaten potential employers with weapons until they hire you for a job and you’re just at their mercy in spite of your best efforts. My latest rejection was for fast good biscuit maker on the rooster shift.
My self esteem needs crutches it is so hobbled.

My neediness is wearing thing on everyone. I called a local church and emailed them about their personal needs pantry for toilet paper and such and they never replied. I think that’s their way of saying ‘get a job’. That’s not paranoia or persecution. There was an article in the newspaper last year where the church leaders were bragging proudly that 99% of people who used their pantry only needed to use it once.
Hitting it once every two years when the donor screws me on child support is apparently abusing the privilege. Holy hypocrisy, Batman, we’re only here if your needs are one time only.
I am dreading…

the bridal shower for my nephew’s fiance Sunday. A day with the woo girls playing asinine games involving toilet paper wedding dresses sounds as appealing as a root canal without novacaine. I will go, I will smile, I will suck it up, but man , I really suck at this being a girl thing cos I’d rather go to a bachelor party at a strip club.
If you don’t know what woo girls are…

you need to watch mor TV. Mainly, How I Met Your Mother.

mother’s day is coming up. I can’t afford to cook my mom her favorite meal and I no longer have a rose bush to pick flowers for her since Spook murdered my new one when we moved here…Frick. Best find some glitter glue and popsicle sticks and have the spawn get artistic for grandma’s gift.
Oh and there’s Memorial day, flowers for the depearted, then next month father’s day, then July 4th, then my kid’s birthday in August and school starting back up…Oh, dear, I am hyperventilating thinking about the neverending expense. I thought things might be looking up cos the Abilify stopped making me sick and has me feeling slightly less oppressed thus depressed…
Glitter glue for everyone’s gifts, damn it. Oh, wait, Spook took all my glitter glue…
Ninja nap…

Exhaustion won out and I nodded off from 2:30 p.m. til 3:10. My kid is on rapidfire speech and my head hurts and I just want to get some decent sleep for a change so maybe I won’t be so…grumpus.
I also want a work from home job, a pet pegacorn, a kid who minds me, and a leprechaun. My grasp on reality grows more tenuous by the day though I prefer to think of it as having hope and dreaming big.
That’s my story and I am sticking to it.

Ya know, in case a leprechaun riding a pegacorn uses paypal…