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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?

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