the unsettled, undefined feeling of needing a deep breath. deeper. not working. i *hate* this. no explanation really, probably a combination of things. loved ones missed. the monotony of what is the day ahead of me. unresolved frustrations. the fact that i battle with clinical depression depresses me. just no joy today. it happens.
do i welcome it and wallow, hoping it gets bored with me and finally leaves me in peace? do i curl up with a book and hope to eventually sleep it off? do i busy myself with shit i absolutely do not want to do in the hopes of shaking it off? i never know how to deal with it. just pray for it to subside without leaving scars.
i know what i can't do. i can't make any type of consequential decision. i tend to react to the panic by covering it in some form of immediate gratification - which often brings about the aforementioned scarring; emotional fall-out, not physical, i'm a head-case, not a complete freak. not much else to say.
i know what i should do. i should concentrate on the good things in my life - things like the fact that i'm not seriously ill. that my children aren't seriously ill. that the little shit subsides, eventually. that i have a home and the love of some truly wonderful people. why, on these days, isn't that enough to lift my spirits back to where they usually reside?
jeebus, this music isn't helping - fucking Bread - there's a start in shit-canning that crap.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Friday, October 15, 2010
let us recap...shall we?
3:06am: i hear Fat-Pat-the-Androgynous-Cat digging at the carpet under my bedroom door. probably, her lard ass has eaten all of the food in the house, sampled a few non-food items and dammit she's not full. i launch a roll of tissue missile-like at the door to scare her, where it lands after a quite-a-bit-less-than-spectacular *whuf* against the wall next to the door. yea, i kinda rock my own world like that. the ever-vigilant Winston goes on full alert and stands guard at the door, refusing get back to his bed.
3:08am: lights out, pillows in place, t-shirt over my face, all is right in my world.
3:08:15am: *scratch scratch* fuck me.
3:19am: i give up trying to sleep - it's hopeless due to images in my brain consisting of various methods in which to kill each one of my animals. by now i'm stressed and pissed...sleep is not a viable option. lights on, kindle out, glasses found - reading commences.
4:22am: *YAWN* sweet sleep is within reach...lights out, pillows in place...blah, blah, blah.
4:31am: fuck it - laying here is stupid, i have things to do...i can always take a nap. lights on...first things first; start coffee. check email. squirrel, even though i promised myself i was only checking my email. read about something political and start to get stressed again...move on to frontierville. sweet, brainless frontierville. algebraic equation of the day: "coffee + sleeping children + frontierville = temporary sanity".
5:03am: i find myself in my closet wondering who the fuck bought all these clothes 2 sizes too small, i have nothing to wear. screw it - i love my jams. hey, while i'm in here...
5:27am: closet purged a bit - starting to wake up. gonna start some laundry. follow me here, this gets tricky: having gathered a massive pile of things that need washing and balanced my coffee cup on top, using my teeth to hold it in place, i open my door and call to Winston to get his lazy ass off the bed...we're heading out. he's rather exasperated with me...he must be - he looks at me with his "are you serious right now? it's still dark outside and i just got comfy...are we going out and staying out this time, because this back and forth shit is for the birds. make up your mind and COMMIT, woman" face. a few more coaxing gestures and he resignedly drags his ass out from under his soft yellow (read: pussy girl) blanket, stands in the middle of the hallway (balanced equidistant between all bedrooms containing sleeping [read: QUIET] children) and does the world's most annoying shake known to man. dog tags on a shaking dog make the most infuriating sound when your temporary sanity is being permanently threatened.
5:28am: something falls from the laundry pile in my hands - of course. i can't tell what it is - i'll grab it with my toes and kick/carry it to the laundry room. still balancing my coffee, mind you. i hit where the carpet meets tile in the entryway and feel what must be a 4 inch long rusty heroin needle (known in some circles as a carpet tack) drive through the heel of my right, probably-panty-or-sock-carrying, foot. mutherfucker, i *HAAAAATE* that. i grab the coffee with a hand to keep from spilling it as i hop on one foot, hoping with very little hope that i don't bleed out right there where my children will find me buried under a heap of dirty laundry (which could take days...jus'sayin - my kids sure as hell steer damn clear of touching any form of dirty laundry).
5:28:52am: and then more clothes fall to the floor. blood pressure spike is definitely in the immediate forecast.
5:29am (time is approximate due to a temporary blackout): the fucking PSYCHO orange cat has ONCE AGAIN pushed over the self-watering container in her attempt to "catch" the bubbles that appear in the jug as she drinks the water. have i ever mentioned how my kitchen floor turns into a freaking sheet of ice with just one drop of water? yea, well...jeebus, mark and christopher, my life is such a fucking joke. the momentary lapse of consciousness comes from my head hitting the floor, as clothes and coffee spew into a roughly 5 foot radius before me.
5:35am (again with the time approximation): i laugh/cry/wimper/snort my way to my feet, gather the laundry - resourcefully using a dirty towel to mop up coffee - and make my way to the laundry room without further incident...which is truly amazing at this point given that it was a whole 3 feet away.
7:01am: the chitlins have stirred without being shaken and i feel better having, once again, shared the ridiculousness of this moment in time in the Easy Life, and then eaten half of a bottle of aleve. for the record - yes, i did consider the half-full bottle of wine sitting on my counter as my pain-reliever of choice, but figured with this kind of start, probably i will have an even stronger need for that in a few hours.
martinez-out, bitches.
3:08am: lights out, pillows in place, t-shirt over my face, all is right in my world.
3:08:15am: *scratch scratch* fuck me.
3:19am: i give up trying to sleep - it's hopeless due to images in my brain consisting of various methods in which to kill each one of my animals. by now i'm stressed and pissed...sleep is not a viable option. lights on, kindle out, glasses found - reading commences.
4:22am: *YAWN* sweet sleep is within reach...lights out, pillows in place...blah, blah, blah.
4:31am: fuck it - laying here is stupid, i have things to do...i can always take a nap. lights on...first things first; start coffee. check email. squirrel, even though i promised myself i was only checking my email. read about something political and start to get stressed again...move on to frontierville. sweet, brainless frontierville. algebraic equation of the day: "coffee + sleeping children + frontierville = temporary sanity".
5:03am: i find myself in my closet wondering who the fuck bought all these clothes 2 sizes too small, i have nothing to wear. screw it - i love my jams. hey, while i'm in here...
5:27am: closet purged a bit - starting to wake up. gonna start some laundry. follow me here, this gets tricky: having gathered a massive pile of things that need washing and balanced my coffee cup on top, using my teeth to hold it in place, i open my door and call to Winston to get his lazy ass off the bed...we're heading out. he's rather exasperated with me...he must be - he looks at me with his "are you serious right now? it's still dark outside and i just got comfy...are we going out and staying out this time, because this back and forth shit is for the birds. make up your mind and COMMIT, woman" face. a few more coaxing gestures and he resignedly drags his ass out from under his soft yellow (read: pussy girl) blanket, stands in the middle of the hallway (balanced equidistant between all bedrooms containing sleeping [read: QUIET] children) and does the world's most annoying shake known to man. dog tags on a shaking dog make the most infuriating sound when your temporary sanity is being permanently threatened.
5:28am: something falls from the laundry pile in my hands - of course. i can't tell what it is - i'll grab it with my toes and kick/carry it to the laundry room. still balancing my coffee, mind you. i hit where the carpet meets tile in the entryway and feel what must be a 4 inch long rusty heroin needle (known in some circles as a carpet tack) drive through the heel of my right, probably-panty-or-sock-carrying, foot. mutherfucker, i *HAAAAATE* that. i grab the coffee with a hand to keep from spilling it as i hop on one foot, hoping with very little hope that i don't bleed out right there where my children will find me buried under a heap of dirty laundry (which could take days...jus'sayin - my kids sure as hell steer damn clear of touching any form of dirty laundry).
5:28:52am: and then more clothes fall to the floor. blood pressure spike is definitely in the immediate forecast.
5:29am (time is approximate due to a temporary blackout): the fucking PSYCHO orange cat has ONCE AGAIN pushed over the self-watering container in her attempt to "catch" the bubbles that appear in the jug as she drinks the water. have i ever mentioned how my kitchen floor turns into a freaking sheet of ice with just one drop of water? yea, well...jeebus, mark and christopher, my life is such a fucking joke. the momentary lapse of consciousness comes from my head hitting the floor, as clothes and coffee spew into a roughly 5 foot radius before me.
5:35am (again with the time approximation): i laugh/cry/wimper/snort my way to my feet, gather the laundry - resourcefully using a dirty towel to mop up coffee - and make my way to the laundry room without further incident...which is truly amazing at this point given that it was a whole 3 feet away.
7:01am: the chitlins have stirred without being shaken and i feel better having, once again, shared the ridiculousness of this moment in time in the Easy Life, and then eaten half of a bottle of aleve. for the record - yes, i did consider the half-full bottle of wine sitting on my counter as my pain-reliever of choice, but figured with this kind of start, probably i will have an even stronger need for that in a few hours.
martinez-out, bitches.
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