Doing the opposite

TRIGGER WARNING…..

I’m fucking drunk.  I’m mentally ill and having a VERY bad moment… ok it’s been a few hours but wtf ever.  I am not going to be talking about fluffy kittens and unicorns.  If that is why you’re here then here:

These are not my pictures.  I just googled them.

Now, if that’s what you wanted then leave now.  It only gets darker from here.

 

 

 

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Still there?  wow.  grew a pair of ovaries did we?  whatever.  your sanity.

 

I get drunk when I have a breakdown so that shit makes sense to me.

Having a breakdown is not a picnic.  It’s a literal shitstorm in your mind.  Like everything in the world is just the same as it was, but now everything is screaming at you.  Inanimate objects, your internal voices (which apparently there’s really only supposed to be one but I have 6 so take that. XP)  Today it was the babygate that seperated the living room from the kitchen.  I scolded Mik (ben’s daughter) for the nth time for stepping over the damn thing instead of using it properly like i have asked her to do since it got put in the house last year.  It literally takes more effort to step over the damn thing than it does to open it and walk through.  I take a minute and do some sweeping trying to figure out why I don’t like it and tell her this:

“I don’t like you stepping over the gate because you are disrespecting my wishes and not using the gate properly.  Kind of like your door.  If I was to just open it as I so pleased without your permission then you get upset.  So please use the gate correctly and i’ll use your door correctly.”

her response? “well, you’ve walked in on me without my permission before”

My response. “Fine.  I’ll use your door as i please and you can just kick the gate down for all I care.  Does that work for you?” of course I”m not at muy normal talking voice but she starts telling me that i’m yelling.  loud-noises.gif

I don’t yell easily.  I just know how to project my voice to be heard over people.  It’s not yelling if i’m not straining.

I give up.  She finishes with the dishes and I continue with cleaning the damn living room, which has turned against me in my mind.  The fucking piano had evil eyes that wanted to kill me.  She goes for a walk and I finish cleaning before losing my shit.

everything is yelling in my head even though the house is silent. Fucking silent and all i can hear is screams.  I want to die.  Instead I take down the fucking gate so that I don’t have to have the god damn argument again.  I begin crying and wailing because of what the gate meant and how it was supposed to be there for david but david isn’t here anymore.  He can’t live here until ben fixes the fucking pipe.  when will that be?  Gods only know.

So I drink.  Because being drunk means my meltdown makes sense.  My blubbering and anger and the screaming everything makes more sense.  Because right now my head doesn’t.

 

BOO! *duck*

I love the fact that Peridot from Steven Universe just accepted and rolled with her alienness.  accepting the stickers and other weird things and making meepmorps.  I would get her gem tattooed on me but I think i would have a hard time keeping a job at that point.

(quick note that google wanted to change peridot to period and alienness to aliveness and that just makes my hour.)

So I’ve been doing better as far as my mental illness goes.  Some days are worse because I have to go to therapy or do SSI paperwork and I have to relive a lot of stuff and it makes me sad and anxious and have to take more meds than i wanted to today.  Thanks a lot deb.

Sorry if your name is deb.  I’m sure it isn’t you that i’m frustrated at.  But you could be.

Why you should duck when people say “BOO!”

I call them my Boos and when people are being rude or say mean things or are just being aggravating and anxiety inducing I yell boo and throw one.  They have grown into 4 and more will come.  If you want one let me know.  They’re 10$ in my store.

 

If anyone is wondering (mostly because i’m not sure if I’ve done this before or not) but I know that I am putting the dollar sign after the numbers because that’s how I read it/ say it so that’s how i’m spelling it.  Society be damned.  I don’t like having to look back to the beginning of your big numbers and have to go is it dollars, cents, yin, or euros?  Fuck people I have things to read!

Moving on.

Say hi to me.  Or your neighbor.  Or no one if you don’t want to.

BYE.

How do you make friends?

I really need to make more friends.  Like, even one more friend would be good.  I know that lots of people survive on being alone and in the internet which i am totally no dogging on.  I’m just not that type of person.  The only problem is that i only have 2 close friends that live near me that I can hang out with when needed/wanted/called upon.  One is my partner and the other is my best friend.  Unfortunately my BFF is moving to a different state this summer.  Which is super amazing for them because they’ll be following their plans and dreams and continue being a super amazing person.  The unfortunate thing is that I cannot go with them, not that I should or whatever, but this means i’m down one person that can get me out of the house when i really need to be pulled out.

BTW….

Depression totally sucks.  vodka is delicious.

I do not promote drinking while depressed or while on anti depressants.

Please drink responsibly….

and when you’re done please drink some water because hangovers suck.

p.s. the lonely island is funny as hell.

I should get to keep stray dogs.

This is Cruella.

She is lovable, soft, sweet, quiet, and snuggly. She is also, sadly, not mine.

Give me a second to explain.

I’m not a doggo napper if any kind, i sure you. I noticed she was in my neighbor’s yard but my neighbor’s don’t have a dog. Trust me, their girls would probably never get over the fact that they have a dog.

Anyway, I have been trying to convince Ben to let me keep her, but he’s pretty adamant about letting animal control take her. Of course I agree butt this does not stop me from trying to convince him to let me keep her.

Oh well.

P.s. Animal control now has her and I hope she gets home soon.

It strikes in the night

I swear to God depression is going to kill me. I can’t hardly sleep and when I do sleep I have vivid dreams and when the vivid dreams are nightmares their dreams about getting back together with my ex-husband. I hate these dreams not only because it makes divorcing him that much harder, but it also makes waking up that much harder.

In real life my ex-husband and I get along pretty well. We could pass for friends if things weren’t so awkward. We still get along and talk about video games tabletop games that he’s running tabletop games that I want to be playing. I tell him about my progress on some of our favorite games that we used to play together. And of course we co-parent. We co-parent so will that it’s weird. I say that it’s weird because I’ve seen other divorced parents co-parent and my ex-husband and I do it really well. We rarely fight or go back on what we say or do. In fact we’d give each other lots of time and notification of our plans so much so that it makes co-parenting easy. And I know that I really shouldn’t be griping or complaining and maybe I am but it’s just odd. But maybe that’s just me. I am a little odd.

Then likes to tell me that I need to be open to the Future and any possibilities of my ex-husband and I getting back together and dating and so forth the possibility that things could go right again. I hate this advice and I wish you would stop telling me that. I don’t want to hear it because I know it won’t happen. I know I can’t be as happy as I am in my dreams. I can’t be monogamous and that’s all Zac wants is to be monogamous and I can’t blame him for that. If that’s what makes him happy then I want him to be happy.

Who can you call?

No one. Not at the moment. Ben is in the bedroom being grumpy at me because i don’t want to talk about the fact that I’m unhappy with the basement flooding with our own refuse because he refuses to skip a credit card bill or whatever to get it fixed. Instead he paid for a guy to clean out the pipes to give us “hopefully” a couple of months to save up.

My biggest problem?

Probably the fact that i made a decision as a grown ass person and mother to not allow my son to live in this house until the pipes are fixed. Hooray for me but Ben doesnt see it that way. He thinks i made a dumb decision (my words not his) to not have David here. Of course all i can think about is the fact that i still don’t have a job, I’m still living in this house, my house isn’t sold yet, I’m still not fucking divorced, and… i still can’t make a living doing anything.

Le sigh….

I know i shouldn’t try to rush things with the systems set up but I’ve been applying for jobs for months and i have nothing. I would upload my resume but that might be tmi.

Anyway… rant dinner for now. Here’s a couple of pictures i colored in to keep from hurting myself.

P.s. still thinking suicidal thoughts and they’re making me sick because all i can think of is saying goodbye to my son. The scariest thing is thinking about is how my brain is convinced he won’t miss me. *sobbing now*

The funny thing about anxiety.

anxiety doesn’t care if you’ve been having a good day or bad day. It doesnt care if you think logically or emotionally. Rationally or irrationally. Alone or with loved ones. Wide awake or dead tired. It doesnt care if you’re having fun or oon a bad mood. Rain or shine. Day or night.

Anxiety doesn’t give a flying fuckin space.

Why? Because that’s not its job. It’s job is to seek out triggers that aren’t there. Movements, shadows, sounds, smells, tastes, memories, thoughts. These are all its prey.

And what happens when it smells fear? It attacks. The only problem id’s that it’s 10 o’clock at night, both kids are asleep, you’re trying to calm yourself down so your anti anxiety pills (or Chris Pratt) can kick in and save the day.

(That booty can save me any day)

Except it won’t.

You’ll fall, hard, tearing your hair out, trying to get the screaming thoughts out but you can’t. They won’t stop no matter how much you breathe and stifle screams and cries.

But I’m lucky.

Ben heard me from the other room, came in and pulled me to my side on the floor and pressed his arms and chest on top of me. My breathing safety blanket helped me realize where i was and that i was safe. I was not being hurt or under attack. I love him so much for knowing enough about anxiety that he could be my safety.

Ps. What set me off? Thinking about my grandmother telling my mother that i told her i have PTSD as diagnosed by my psychologist. Family politics are bullshit and i won’t have it anymore.

Pps. I’m going to be saving up money to get a service dog for when i have my own apartment. Please help out by making purchases in my etsy shop.