Guess Who’s Back, Back Again

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It’s been a long time, y’all. A REALLY long time.

I’ve finally come out of a 3 year long depression-mostly without meds or therapy not of my own choice. My divorce was FINALLY finalized last summer, but due to work and the copious amounts of shit my mental health was going through I only just got my maiden name back in April. FUCKING APRIL y’all. If that doesn’t describe the shit show my life has been, then y’all are living under rocks, in a canyon on fucking Mars.

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Florida moved up here for almost 2 years, but he’s back down there. Again, life. Shit show. Fuck. I’m not at the prison anymore, and I really do miss it. Because it was the one constant routine that I had for over 2 years. There ended up being A LOT of bullshit that happened, but the deciding factor was when my own bosses accused me of trafficking or fucking offenders I just hadn’t been caught. Bitch, WHAT?! I may only be a CNA (as I was FREQUENTLY told) but that license is my ONLY way to support me and my heathens. I would NEVER do anything to lose custody of my heathens. And I do NOT look good in orange. And they said this because I’m friendly. Because I say hi to everyone-medical staff, custody staff, offender. Because whatever those offenders were in for had ZERO bearing on my ability to provide care. If anything, as I child who was molested, the child molesters I did give care to should have been treated like ass trash, lowest of the low. But my grandparents raised me to treat EVERYONE with compassion. No matter what they did, I was still there at the end of their lives as they died in prison, giving them and their families when they were allowed to come a little bit of comfort as they leave their earthly bodies. I’m still pissed about that accusation. Fucking bitches. I hope karma bites them in the ass.

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Monkey is now living with her dad. I forced that one on him, and he deserved it. She’s mostly happy, and shes not as hateful as she was becoming living with me, her brother, Florida and my parents. Man, she’s a fucking handful as a tween…always busy, wanting to go somewhere. She loves Hot Topic-both the heathens do. She’s very much into things that aren’t “popular”. As long as she’s happy.

Not So Little Man has joined the men’s show choir in school and he really enjoys it. And he’s so good! He wants to go to Purdue just to be in the men’s glee club. I had to explain to him that when yo go to college you go to get a degree to get a job after school. The look on his face that he couldn’t go to Purdue JUST for glee club! I’m proud of him though. Very proud

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The job I left the prison for has turned into a shit show-imagine that! It took 3 months before I actually STARTED working for this company, and it’s so not what they made it out to be. I’m actively looking for a job. Again. And I hope that I can find something decent and soon. I had to move back in with my parents, I lost my truck and I’ve barely been able to make the monthly payment on my storage unit. Seriously, karma has had me on the list for some reason…

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On the plus side, I get to see May every day. And my mom’s cat-who looks like a seriously pissed off old Asian lady.

I’m going to Florida in less than 2 weeks. It’s a much needed vacation. 5 days. All paid for. On my own. By myself. Car. Hotel. Tickets. I need the beach. I need time way from this shitty state. From all the shit that I’ve had to go through mentally.

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I shared something on Facebook today. Serena Williams is working with Purple Purse and Allstate to help those who have suffered form financial abuse. And I totally called my ex-husband out on it. So, if you’re FB friends with me or follow me on IG you can see it. Y’all know I’ve come here and bitched and moaned and groaned and cried my story about that bastard of a human. I kept it honest, succinct, simple. Proud of me for that. It took a lot to write it without really having verbal vomit and stuff.

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It’s been 3 years since Shawna left. I visited her parents on what should have been her 40th birthday. I needed my own closure. I can’t explain it to Florida. He won’t ever understand. It’s been 2 years since our beloved tribal leader Blah, Ulla, left us after all her fight, and PainKills2, Johanna. It’s been a rough time for all of us who have lost the people we care about by suicide. Chester Bennington of Linkin Park, Robin Williams, Chris Cornell of Audioslave and Soundgarden. We’ve all been battling our own demons for as long as we can remember, and there’s only a few of us that really check in on each other. There’s been this stupid suicide hashtag bullshit that was floating around on FB and it pissed me off, y’all. Like I wanted to rage quit all my social media over it. Suicide awareness check in bullshit. Like for real, if they really did believe in that shit then they would actually check in with those of us that struggle. Fucking bitches.

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My concentration, ADD/ADHD, OCD have been so bad that my attention span is shit. I can’t focus enough to read, so my sister turned me on to OverDrive. It’s an app for audio and eBooks from my local library. My new job is so boring and repetitive BUT I’m able to listen to my audio-books on my phone. The plus side of having my phone at work. I’ve listened to 9 books in the last 2 weeks. And it’s been so nice. I can’t really listen to music either. The hive had been super angry and irritated for so long, but finally breaking the surface of the heavy depression helped to quiet the hive. And like pulling cotton out of my ears.

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So, I’ve just been taking it one day at a time-and if that’s too much, I break it down into manageable time increments. I’ve been trying to forgive myself for being hard on myself through this shit storm that is my life. And after everything that’s been going on, and the fact I can’t use the laptop or work computer for ANYTHING other than “company business”. They block EVERYTHING. Sons a bitches.

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Mental State

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Gawd, it’s been so long since I blogged. So much has gone on in my life, and I don’t know if I can really write it all down and make sense. I’ll just start and see where it goes.

I’ve been struggling financially. Who doesn’t these days? I’ve been at my job 2 treats now, and I’ve only had to call in a handful of times. But the stress from my job… It’s now effecting my health and mental health more. I’ve been unmedicated for almost 18 months now-not by choice, and having death with our Tribal Leader’s passing, my best friend’s passing as well, another Tribal members too in a relatively short time span hasn’t helped. My divorce took its toll on me mentally as well. Florida spontaneously moving here, moving out, struggling with money, getting evicted, finding a new place that comes with an elderly landlord that had no clue how bad this place really is, my truck payment behind….

Y’all… I’m gonna lose my ever loving shit. I can’t concentrate on anything. I can read maybe half of a blog post before I move on. I can’t read-one of my go-to methods to ground myself when I’m depressed-or pay attention to music or movies or my game… Mostly because it feels like there’s cotton in my ears and the Hive is pissed so it’s all angry buzzing in my head. I can’t do my job at work because my anxiety makes my OCD take over and everything has to be in place before I can do my job. And it’s not even things that have to do with my job that have to be in place. I spent an hour and a half organizing supplies because they didn’t make sense. Why am I going to 3 or 4 different shelves for 1 specific supply need?? GAH. Papers, pens, markers, my fucking emails…

I’m exhausted but can’t sleep longer than 5 hours solid. I have headache and migraines and my eyes twitch daily and I take Tylenol, Advil, and Excedrin like candy. My ears hurt, my eyes hurt, my sinuses hurt, my vision is blurry, my neck hurts, my feet hurt to the point of not being able to walk. My body-my whole being-just hurts. It’s that ache you have when you want relief, but you don’t know if you want a sleep induced coma, a stay at a treatment facility, or the piece of death. Some days, that kind of peace is very near the surface-those dates seen to be growing in number. Most days, I just want to be able to relax and enjoy a simple meal. You don’t realize what you miss-like eating chicken noodle soup in a little brown crock instead of the 2 cup Pyrex measuring cup out of the microwave. Or warm chocolate chip cookies with ice cream. The thought of break and bake cookies exhausts me. But I was able to rehang 2 curtain rods the other day and wash the curtains… But hung up 2 out of the 7 I bought.

My anxiety is so bad I feel like I’m choking again. I feel it all the time. At work is the worst. I went to the store and walked around running my throat because I swore I had on a true neck, not a bikini top under my low cut tank top. I feel like I’m constantly being watched at work by my supervisors and coworkers because they’re waiting to catch me fucking up and I’ll get fired and gate locked and I won’t ever get another job and my kids are better off without me. I’m constantly frozen requiring winner fuzzy socks, long pants, shirt, hoodie AND the most amazing warm and fuzzy blanket ever found at Goodwill. I literally look like a little kid wrapped up in my blankie wherever I go in the house. I was sleeping under 3 blankets to stay warm and to have the extra weight on me.. But I can’t have my feet covered up and Florida kept taking all the blankets and is always be cold anyway. He’s been told that I will cut him if he even attempts to use my new blankie.

I can’t find the time to bathe, but I logged 130+hours on my Horizon: Zero Dawn game and beat it today (over a 2 month time frame, not consecutively) and started another game on the hardest difficulty (which I NEVER do).

Yes, I KNOW it’s irrational. Yes, I KNOW it’s my fucked up brain distorting everything for me. Y’all, I can’t say that I’m scared because it’s been a rough 2 ½ years and I know this is my longest depression bout, but I’m worried because my body and my head can’t hear each other to let me know that I’m in the danger zone. You wanna know what did? My fucking game. Because I finished it, watched ALL the credits-including the production babies that get credits now-the WTF moment at the end, and the last 30 secure that made me back my fucking eyes out. Because I know what it’s like to be an outcast and STILL help all those others in the end and still be alone.

I think I’m in another mixed episode. I wanna cook and clean and scrub the floor and cry while I do it. My brain is going too far for my body but I get find the energy to give a fuck what my brain wants to tell me. Y’all, it’s a precarious and fragile place to be, right before the beginning of summer for my heathens-which Thing 2 is REALLY testing my sanity and strength at the moment. And poor Florida, he’s trying more than my ex husband did try to help and support me.. But he doesn’t quite understand that even right now I don’t understand what’s going on with me. Plus I can’t give him support when I can’t support myself emotionally and mentally. Going to the store was once a favorite thing to do because I can wander the aisles and not have to rush because it was my time alone. Now, I wanted the aisles because I can’t remember what I wanted to get as I walked into the store so it turns into a small anxiety attack and I wish through and forget half the shit I went in there to get in the first damn place.

So, I called in for tomorrow and I have a Dr appointment Tuesday that I’ve had scheduled for about 6 weeks. Hopefully she can help because sorry of finding a hospital that I don’t owe money to that will let me stay in partial, I’ll probably have a psychotic episode that will require a reservation a the Rubber Ramada. At least there I’ll get room service without an attitude. And if they want a tip, I’ll tell em this: “Don’t be an asshole.”

I’m on the struggle bus and on the Highway To Hell…

A Letter To My Badass Friend

Dear Morgue,

You sent me a text asking to remind you why you are such a badass, and I couldn’t just send a text back. I had to do one better.

You struggled for years wrongly dismissed and diagnosed trying to do everything you were fed to “get better” (aka “normal”). You were given all the wrong medications and therapies and had a near death because of one of those medications and you still persisted on getting better.

You have a beautiful-albeit emotionally draining for you-daughter that you have fought tooth and nail to provide for. You have given up so much for yourself to see that Spook has food and clothes and a roof over y’all’s head-despite the slumlord taking advantage of everyone in the park.

You went to court and fought to get what she deserves despite your severe anxiety of the donor (aka Albatross) and his constant web of lies.

You were dealt a shit mental health hand in life, along with a shit family. You selflessly created a GoFundMe and gathered funds for the momster and her merry band of idjits when there was a fire in their home-even donating when you don’t have the extra money to spare. Your family used your mental health against you because you are stronger then they are by making sure Spook has what she needs first not what she wants, by making sure your bills are paid, food on the table and gas in the shitty car you were cornered into getting.

You have constantly and consistently shown others how hard it is for you as a single parent-with multiple mental health disorders/illnesses!-with no real support financially or from family, who does not all for help unless absolutely necessary.

I am so amazed and impressed at how you fight every damn day to not fall completely down the rabbit hole, to recognize the days the rabbit hole is inevitable, and to still fight enough to give Spook what she needs.

We have had rides down the streets with Camelaffes and I.V. drips of our favorite booze, smacked people in the face with fish and shoved barbed wire dildos with ghost pepper sauce lube in unmentionable places. We have dined on orgasmic chocolate hand rolled on the legs on lesbians while huddling in Fort Blankie coloring, listening to Wednesday, and seeing if we can really commit the perfect crime from Investigation Discovery. Clown shoes.

You, my dear friend, are a Badass.

Lurve- Your Friendly Neighborhood Sass

Ps-If you can’t find a place there, you can always move here where you’ll have support in so many ways 💖💖

New Home Here!

Letting Go

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These past months have been so very hard on me, and for me.  Today, I watched as someone I truly care for in ways I never knew I could, pack up and leave on a journey that is much needed for them.  And it fucking sucked to do it.  I helped finish the packing by labeling cords and putting them in Ziploc baggies, then arranged the electronics in a box so that they would all fit.  The time came for them to leave, and with sweaty kisses and hugs, bid farewell until we meet again.

I imposed a 2 week no-contact order, not because I need time for myself, but because they need to know that the path they chose means to come face to face with the demons and decions of the past.  And that can’t happen while talking to me, because it means delaying the inevitable.  That was even harder to do.  Because I wish someone had done that with me, to me, and I honestly don’t think I would have done 3/4 of the shit I did had that conversation took place.  Hindsight.

So now while they are taking a much needed spiritual, emotional and mental journey in their life to move forward in a positive way, I am here alone.  Don’t take it the wrong way, I am okay being alone.  I am in the quiet of these living quarters that aren’t really home, and I have the chance to finally hear my thoughts…which may be a bad thing once or twice this upcoming week alone.  At least I can make peace with them in silence that had been needed…but at the cost of something that means the world to me.  Letting go is always hard thing to do…but letting go of someone because they need to travel a path in order to grow is harder-especially when they say the grass is dead on the other side.

I Am…

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Life has been hell.  There’s been some good sprinkled in, but not alot.  

I’m struggling.  Badly.  I think I’m becoming med resistant, and that’s fucking scary.  I’ve been battling a MONTHS long mixed episode, in top of medication issues, living arrangements, divorce, work, my kids, and now reoccurring possible endo pain…Guys, I’m tired.

The kids, Florida and I moved into our own place.  It was much needed.  Only now I’m the only one working. My job has been difficult.  The state granted a new company the medical contract for the IDOC, and the switch over has been a nightmare.  My boss was like working for my ex husband.  I did so much over there, and yet someone was more concerned about my 2 minutes tardies.  Petty.  I was able to transfer next door and get a raise, but no shift differential.  Win some, lose some.  All the bills are coming due and I have to pay them.  Alone.  And I’m a bitch because I want to relax when I come home, not make dinner and clean up.everyone else’s shit after doing that at work.

I feel unappreciated and not taken seriously.

I’m looking for another doc.  Again.  The last one flaked out when I didn’t get an email or phone call that my appointment was cancelled.  NOR did I get a call to reschedule.  I had to call her personal cell to set up an appointment, on a day I’d already taken off.  Because God forbid I miss work.  We we’re supposed to do a telehealth visit.  Didn’t happen.  I never got the email to do it.  So now I’ve been u medicated for 6 weeks or so, and I feel like shit.  I’m not even spiraling the drain.  I’m a fucking rock that’s sunk to the bottom of the lake.  And I’m fucking tired of being as proative as possible​ and still getting shafted.
I have to get all this paperwork together for my lawyer for my divorce.  At least I did ONE thing right when I got my settlement but hiring an attorney.  Please God, give me the strength to get through this…

I feel helpless during this.

I’m not looking forward to Mother’s Day.  Isn’t that sad?  Because I k know I won’t get any time to myself.  I will have to clean and cook and put things away and HOPEFULLY sleep before my shift.  I won’t be getting anything.  Monkey will make me something at school or here at home.  As much as people complain, she’s the only one that really does sweet things for everyone.  She wrote ” I ❤️ U MOM!” on my dry erase board so I could take it to work.  

I’m so lost.

I can’t feel anything-like I’ve been dipped in novicaine and wrapped in bubble wrap.  I don’t SEE anything-when I look at things I don’t see or feel anything.  I’m empty.  Again.  And I’m at this point where I don’t think any amount of doctors or therapists or programs will help me get better.  And I know that’s the depression distorting everything.  Sometimes, though…that voice wins the day.

I don’t feel like anything I do is ever good enough-except at work.  I work so hard to get things in order and keep them there.  It helps that my coworker and I work really well together and I can see what she sees when she talks about trying to make things better for us at work.  

Wish it was that way at home.  Florida isn’t working.  That’s for another (probably far off) post.  He said that he won’t be the ” house bitch”.  I tried to tell him it’s not being a house bitch, it’s about being a responsible adult and taking care and pride in your own space.  I’m the bitch because I have to still take care of the cleaning.  Picking up dishes that aren’t mine because I wasnt home.  Trying to vacuum up crushed styrofoam from packages.  Putting together furniture. So many loads of laundry.  Reminding the kids to clean up after themselves.  All while I’m working or sleeping, Florida is playing on his computer and talking to his friends.  Did I mention how this prevents me from sleeping?

I’m defeated.

I’ve been having ALOT more side pain.  I’m scared the endometriosis is growing back…and at an alaing rate.  I need to call me doctor and I need to get my records.  There is a facility in Atlanta that specializes in endometriosis care, and they offer a free records review.  If they feel I am a candidate, then I can come down.  I need this.

I feel hopeless.

I don’t​ know how to process all of these things and keep myself from loosing it.  Even more than I have.

Downward Dog

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You know, life can really kick the shit out of you.

This is the first year since the death of my Grampa that I give zero fucks about the holidays.  Well, “holidays” I should say.  And I know the reason.

As stable/baseline as I’ve been, it’s that time of year to cycle downward.  Those of you who know me well know I always cycle down this time of year.  Last year was an exception because I had the losses so close together.  Talk about an almost year long depression that I never thought I would get out of.  It’s not THAT bad, but it’s enough to make me very emotional, stress out easier, and want to throat punch stupid, whiny assholes who throw tantrums over bullshit.  Zero tolerance.  And it’s getting me into trouble at work.  I’ve been late to work more the last 6 weeks than the entire almost 6 months I’ve been working.  Bouncing back and forth between the facilities is taking its tole on me.  I’m always tired no matter how much sleep I get.  Thank you, fucking depression and refried brain.  You suck donkey balls.  

My kids have been….kids.  NSLM is failing every class and gives zero fucks.  Monkey is doing very well IN class, but once she’s home….she doesn’t stop.  She’s also grounded for lying about something petty, and so is NSLM for not doing as he was told.  In their defense, we weren’t supposed to be gone 5 fucking hours.  

Things with Florida are difficult for him, adjusting to the climate, living with people that actually talk face to face, having dinner at the table and going to be around 10.  Not too mention sharing a smaller bed with someone when you’re used to a king sized bed to yourself.  It’s hard for me too.  I’ve basically been alone for two and a half years, doing my own thing, sleeping when and how I want and not having someone take me places or telling them I’m going somewhere.  I’d like to think I’m doing better, but I’m sure I’m not really.  

There’s so much that I’ve compromised on, though to others it seems I haven’t at all.  I’ve stopped trying to talk to most people because they don’t listen.  No one notices when I don’t talk or even when I do.  It hurts, really bad.  But you know how it is…you gotta keep it to yourself and just keep on every day.  I do what you’re supposed to do-go to work, come home and cook, clean, laundry, shower, dishes.  No one notices what I’m doing until they need or want something…then they get angry when I’m not right there when they want me to be.  I’m to stop, drop and roll.  It happens at work, it happens at home.  It happens when I go out in public…which I’ve now become to loathe being in groups of people because they’re all assholes.  

I’m so tired of getting yelled at and accused of things I did or didn’t do-ESPECIALLY at work.  Like why the fuck can’t people talk to me like I’m going fucking human being and ASK ME IN A CALM TONE!  This week at work was hard, but I did my best.  To some, it wasn’t enough.  To others, I didn’t do a thing.  Some people just like to bitch and be dramatic for zero reason other than to be attention seekers.  I can look attention to myself in the mirror today and say I did a damn good job with what I had, and for doing 3 people’s jobs.  I even caught a major flag Friday, went to my boss and the DON and let them know.  Went and check things out and got things moving with them to get the issue resolved and we did.  You deserve a fucking drink and an uninterrupted bath.

I’m not as stressed as I have been, but my anxiety is up enough to make me irritable and have very little patience.  People still want to treat me like a child, ride my ass about things I have zero control over, and make me feel like shit.  Like it’s all my fault my dog has fleas. After more than half a dozen baths, taking her to the groomer and constant vacuuming and homemade remedies they are still traipsing all over her backside.  She’s chewed herself until she bleeds and has licked herself bald in places.  It didn’t help I tried a different food brand.  “Simple Ingredients” my ass.  Poor May was allergic to it.  That’s when alot of the itching and chewing and loosing her fur git worse.  She lost the weight she put on, and her coat lost the beautiful softness and glossy back color.  So that makes me feel like a shitty pet parent.

I just generally feel like a shitty person, and not in the ‘I know I could have done better’ way, the the ‘It’s never enough and it’s mostly wrong’ way.  Having those feelings as a muggle is one thing.  Throw in a disorder that has already hindered your emotional state, you will always feel defeated.  And even more so when you can’t explain it because there aren’t enough of the right words to do so, or those people just don’t listen.  Ever.  So how can I  (we) really “get better” enough to function?

I think I need an Emergency Plan in writing kept on the fridge.  With a number system on the calendar to let everyone know when I need them to step up.  That’s the shitty part-that I have to have that kind of thing visibly in place because no one else really gives me the time, effort and compassion I give to them.  You guys though, my blog “friends” offer more encouragement than “real life” people.  Maybe because y’all are there and know and fucking get it and aren’t self-centered about it.  Good Lort this turned into a jumbled mess.  Y’all know, it happens with stress and cycles and meds.  And I figured out why I was so emotional.  Who would have thought too much of their antidepressant (unintentional, I might add) would make them want to shank someone and cry while eating chocolate?  Fucking bullshit.

It’s Saturday night, I’m in bed and the most exciting thing I’m looking forward to is sleeping.  I try to read Y’alls post and like them when I do.  Sorry, I just don’t have much encouragement for those whom are struggling, or witty and funny things on other posts. My words escape me alot.  I’m still here, struggling along.  It’s all any of us can do, right?

It’s Ok

Yes, I’m still around. Just had ALOT of upheaval the past few weeks, and some for the better. I’m not going to go into details, but DB damn near killed himself….and Florida moved up here. Pretty much on a whim. I’m happy. And peaceful. So are my heathens. I’m whole again. I’m so looking forward to what’s to come. It hasn’t been easy this past week. I was stabby. And cried. And threw things. (I started my period, so that didn’t help) My heathens are blooming like crazy with him here, ESPECIALLY NSLM. Monkey is crazy happy. Even May is happy. 

Now, I’m gonna go curl up under the blanket cuz it’s gonna be fucking 40° 

God I hate the cold.