Surgery Day!

3am – Alarm went off… spent the next 30 minutes drinking apple juice and taking the meds I was allowed to take today.

330am – Took shower with terrible antimicrobial soap they gave me at the pre-op appointments. I got it nowhere close to my eyes, but the fumes coming off of it were pure alcohol. So burny. It also left my skin feeling like plastic, very dry, and unpleasant. I longed for LOTION BUKKAKE. All over my life.

430am – Head to hospital for 530 check in. Mom was obviously nervous. Her driving showed it pretty evidently. Also, it was dark, and she has mild night blindness, so the drive to the hospital was NOT great. And we got there super early, so we had to wait for 30 minutes before the doors actually opened. But her being SO nervous meant my mom-friend instincts kicked in and I was incapable of being nervous for myself. Handy personality quirk.

6am – I had to strip down and pre-op started. I was kind of really uncomfortable with so many talking to me while I was wearing neither pants or panties, but I was soon distracted by the pre-op process. They put this GIANT needle in my arm to take blood, and then they push this button on the device and the needle pops out, but leaves flexible plastic tubing in my arm for administering fluids, drugs, and antibiotics during surgery. It was pretty cool, tbh. During this time I also met all my doctors. They all seemed very nice. I also got a shot of heprin for blood clots in the back of my arm… the needle didn’t hurt, but FUCK that burned. Not looking forward to administering my blood clot shots once a day for the next two weeks…. @_@

730am – They wheeled me into the OR. The sedation meds weren’t really taking effect on the way in, but I was still pretty calm all things considered. They adjusted the IV and I felt them before the anesthesia actually started, though. First time I remember seeing the OR in spite of this being the fourth surgery of my life. It was less terrifying to me than I thought it would be. Nice and cold, though. I love a good cold room. Then they said they were administering the knock out drugs, and I was out in like 20 seconds.

930am – Came to in recovery and panicked. I didn’t feel pain or anything, but waking up with people in your face asking you questions is jarring. I asked the time and when I could see my mom. I guess I was on the brink of tears, cuz the 68 year old recovery specialist was concerned I was in pain. Really, my pain was like a 3. She gave me just a little pain medication, which probably also helped me calm down. Once I got them to sit me upright, though, I started to feel better. I was only in the phase 1 recovery room for about an hour. I got real coherent and chatty pretty fast. I was also PARCHED so I sucked down ice chips and water like a pro, even though my throat hurt from the breathing tube, and still hurts right now, actually. When the recovery specialist said she was gonna go talk to my mom, I asked her to tell her my Pulse Ox, because I was pulling 98%. Many a time we’ve had problems in this family with people being unable to keep their pulse ox up, so I thought it would be the best way to reassure her I was doing well. Shortly after, I asked and was allowed to go to the bathroom and put my clothes on, which… nothing makes you feel better than wearing pants… Swear to god.

11am – Taken out to recovery stage 2, which is essentially just a holding room where Mom sat with me till they got my discharge papers ready. Everyone was SUPER impressed with my recovery. I wasn’t in pain, didn’t ask for medication, and was pretty chatty and overall happy. They predicted this meant I would have a pretty easy recovery, but warned me I’d prolly feel like someone beat me up tomorrow… looking forward to that!

1215pm – Released to go home.

1pm – Mom picked me up some Chik-fil-A for lunch and helped me get inside and get the dogs outside. Then, she left me to eat and get some rest. They put this thing behind my ear for nausea that’s good for 3 days, and it causes WICKED dry mouth. The fries went down great. The nuggets did okay. I killed two sweet teas trying to eat my sandwich, though, because I didn’t have enough saliva to breakdown the bread. Lol. After that, I went up to bed and napped on and off for most of the afternoon. I also listened to a book.

5pm – Chris came over. He’d texted me all morning, intentionally getting up even earlier than usual to reassure me everything would be fine. When he showed up his face was nothing but concern, though. He was actually really worried and was really glad I seemed to be doing mostly okay. We snuggled, and chatted, and watched The Orville. Then he had to go home since he’s got Addi this weekend. He setup a TV and a Wii U in her room, though, so she didn’t mind him coming over for a little bit. He promised to come back tomorrow, and the next day, and he’s spending all day Monday with me. I feel very loved.

630pm – Fed dogs and grabbed some dinner. It’s now 814pm, and I’m still working on dinner because it’s hard to swallow…. but I feel mostly okay.

OTHER NOTES:

  • The girl next to me in recovery was NOT doing very well. They did some kind of investigative surgery on her uterus for endometriosis and some other things I don’t remember the name of. She was actively crying and in a lot more than me. I hope she does well and gets relief for her problems. She seems like a sweet girl.
  • My surgeon came in to talk to me post-op and told me that in spite of being told I probably had endometriosis and poly-cystic ovaries since I was 12, there were no signs of either. This has made me very curious as to what the fuck caused my periods to be SO BAD. All the material, except my ovaries that I got to keep, was sent to pathology, though. Maybe they’ll be able to tell me what was up, as well as whether we got it out before it turned into cancer.
  • My surgeon showed my mom pictures of my insides. She was grossed out. I see this as payback for when she had her uterus cauterized when I was like 15, and her doc came out and this smol Asian woman named Doctor Sun showed me her burned and blackened uterus… and then went “See! You came out of there!” With a thick Asian accent… it was hilarious later, but freaked me out at the time. I derive pleasure from knowing mom felt similarly. Lol.
  • Chris signed divorce papers! I guess his ex got everything together after she filed their taxes, and he’ll be a free man, soon. I am very excited about it, especially with plans to move him in come May. I’m nervous what my hairdresser will say, since she’s already asked if I’d marry him… so now I feel like she’s gonna badger me to marry him forever now. Lol.
  • Both mom and I have been running off anxiety this week, and it shows. We both felt exhausted on the way back from the hospital, and we predict we’ll be out like a light tonight.

Overall, today was less epic than I thought it would be. If someone told me, right now, that I’d be going back to work Monday, I’d ask to wait till Wednesday. As it is, I’m off for two weeks! So, I plan on doing a lot of reading and gaming and hoping that the pain continues to be minor. I have no regrets now that it’s over.

QUOTE OF THE WEEK
Me: “So, are you sad I won’t even be having an oops baby now?”
Mom: “No, I’m glad you’re not gonna die. If you want a kid later, we’ll buy you one.”

I love my mom, and her borderline rude but in a caring kind of way bluntness.

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Puddle of Mudd with Saliva!!! (woo)

So let’s see. It’s been a week.
Not a lot happened during the week, but the weekend was fun.

Saturday I got my hair done. I changed it from teal to orange for autumn. I also whacked off the sides, so instead of a fade I just have the sides super crew cut short and it’s long and orange on top. Mom hated it, but I think it will grow on her.

I also got new glasses! Because I needed to see.

Orange

Sunday was an adventure.

So we’d already arranged for Chris to meet my mom at The Nun. Because what other way would you introduce parents to your boyfriend than at a horror movie? He was late, because he and his dad had to go get his sign from his shop. (It never occurred to me that people purchase those signs and then have to figure out what to do with them after the shop goes under.) So his dad dropped him off. He managed to say hello to Mom, but they didn’t get to like… interact that much.

The Nun, btw, wasn’t a BAD movie. It was disappointing only because I expected it to be as good as I felt The Conjuring and The Conjuring 2 were… It’s more of Annabelle territory… like… fun but not outstanding.

After that, he invited me to go meet HIS parents and have lunch.
So.
Let me preface this with, I was dressed in black, wearing skulls, with my new orange hair, and heavy eyeliner. Like I was dressed for a concert, not to meet my boyfriend’s Episcopal parents….

So his parents live in a nice neighborhood, on a nice block, in a nice house with kids playing in the street and green lawns everywhere. We walk in, and the first thing you’re greeted with is “Through God all things are possible…” on the wall right inside the doorway. I was aware there was a startling number of crosses in this house, but that was… odd… for me. Having just seen The Nun, I was already like, “This many crosses in one place definitely means there’s a demon here.”

crosses

Anyways, Addi pops out to say hello, and she’s 5, so she’s excited to see anyone and everyone. It was reassuring. She liked my hair.

So I’m looking around and this is one of those houses with like a sitting room, a dining room, and a living room. The sitting room is full of just… stuff. Like they have a floor, but every flat surface has papers or stuff sitting on it. Same with the formal dining table they don’t seem to use. We move to the living room and kitchen, and it’s much the same. There’s just… stuff. Toys, which were expected, but also the kitchen counter was overloaded with stuff. There was nowhere to like… cut things. The tops of the cabinets were covered in roosters and chickens (which I later found out his mom collects). The table in the kitchen, because this house is big enough for that kind of thing, was also pretty much fully covered in papers and stuff. THERE WAS SO MUCH STUFF.

So that’s when it hits me.

I’ve been agonizing and torturing myself over the state of my home, now that I have someone to invite into it. He never cared. I found that odd. NOW IT FUCKING MAKES SENSE.

Honestly, it’s nice to see a home that looks lived in. I’m so used to people taking me to meet their parents and their house looks like some kind of show home. But like… it also took the pressure off. Do I want my house cleaner? Of course I do… but like, not for Chris. Now I don’t have to worry so much when he comes over that he’s judging me.

Anyways…
Lunch was weird. I didn’t really like it but I ate it. They took Hawaiian rolls, basted them with mayo, dijon mustard, sesame seeds, and then put ham on it and put it in the oven… I would have skipped the mayo, and added cheddar or something… Like, I dunno, it just wasn’t my thing, but I ate it because I like Chris and I wasn’t about to scoff at food his mother made.

Then we hung out for a while. His mom watched the football game, his dad was outside doing something with the lawn mower, and I played with Chris and Addi till it was time to go let my dogs out.

We were going to a concert, you see. I bought us tickets to see my friends in Scarlet Canary open for Saliva and Puddle of Mudd. We ended up having a lot of fun, after I overheated, almost passed out, had to go throw up, and ended up running into a coworker who let us sit at their table under a fan. If we go back to Herman’s for a big event, we will be buying a table. It’s worth the money. Plus both Chris and I aren’t good at standing. I guess he’s got angry knees, and between my shite heels and knee missing a ligament, we just need to accept that we’re old. Lol.

I wanted to introduce him to Hannah straight off, because how cool is it that I have my own personal Joan Jett? But she was so busy we didn’t manage to get to intros till the headliner, Puddle of Mudd, was up there. She was excited to meet the guy that got through all my off-putting bullshit. Lol. I was incredibly flattered that she was aware how hard it is to get through all my off-putting bullshit. Hahaha. It was a good time, though.

  • The first band, a local band, had a great sound instrumentally. I was less of a fan of the vocals… but still. Good sound instrumentally.
  • Scarlet Canary was next, and Hannah rocked her face off, as she does. I love her stage presence.
  • After that was a band called Tantric. I had to google them, because I knew nothing about them. Apparently they were originally the empty shell of what used to be Days of the New, and then the new lead singer kept the rights to their songs as Tantric, and now he has a whole new band setup…
    • He was a trip. After his gig I kept seeing him escorting many a thin blonde to the back where I assume he was storing them in his tour bus for later. I swear he was up to like six. I mentioned this to Hannah and she laughed when I said I was memorizing their faces in case they showed up as missing on the news the next day.
  • The Veer Union was a surprise. They were AWESOME. I will be listening to lots more of The Veer Union. And the lead singer was so freaking nice. I saw him greeting fans and selling merch and he just seemed like a stellar guy.
    • They also did a compilation cover of Linkin Park songs that gave me chills.
  • Saliva was interesting. So I guess in 2012 they got a new lead singer who looks like my friend Rob in another life. It was trippy. They put on a good show. I was happy with it. I’d see it again for sure.
  • Puddle of Mudd… I’m not saying they were super high… but Wes Scantlin seemed high as fuck. He forgot lines, and missed verses, and all his notes were off… but like… it was still fun. I had fun, even if he was high as balls.
    • Saliva was better. Go see Saliva.

Afterwards we went home, watched The Orville, and went to sleep.

I woke up the next morning sick… Chris went home and took an Emergen-C packet… I spent Monday and Tuesday in bed sick. I read a book called In The Shadow of Lakecrest that was an unexpectedly great historical gothic fiction. I definitely thought it would be a horror novel… it was not.

Also, this weekend I decided to name Chris’ penis… because why not? I decided it should be the name of the horse that won the Kentucky Derby the year he was born, but “Spend a Buck” is clunky… so I’m calling it Buck. Lol. Oh man I’m a nerd.

As a closing note… I think I’m in love, guys… it’s fucking weird… but like… I’m so happy.

Time Heals, But Leaves Scars

Well, it’s been a terrible year so far.

Closed the year with less than half an office. Mom got pneumonia and ended up in the hospital. Keagan died. Work sucks. Still have no idea what to do with my life. Turning 30 in 116 days.

It’s true what they say, that time heals all wounds, but they don’t tell you that it leaves scars. You never forget how much hurt or how bad it felt, and if you’re anything like me, you live in terror of feeling it again.

Without Keagan around, I’ve been able to spread my love around more. By that I mean that I’m paying more attention to the remaining animals, not that I’ve taken up banging strangers. For example, I finally got Bdo on some itch medication, so he’s more comfortable than ever now. He’s always had skin allergies, but after Keagan’s passing it became important to me to get the problem handled, instead of just hobbling along as we have for the past seven years. Also, Kira doesn’t annoy me as much, even though she’s still as needy as ever. I have the time to give her now, I guess. I can see now that I was giving most of my time to Keagan, because he was my favorite… so she’s happier, too. I think that’s important.

Kyrie is still as aloof as she’s always been, but now I worry. She’s 14 and a larger breed than Keagan… she’s going to be my next loss, but when will that come? Not soon, I hope… three more years with her would be great. She’s slower than she used to be. She sleeps a lot. I worry she’s depressed, and maybe she is, too. Keagan was with her for 13 years. That’s a long time to have someone around. I keep trying to give her attention and get her to play, but she’s just not 100% interested. Still hurting, I guess. She kept thinking one day I’d come home and bring Keagan with me. She looked for him for over a week… and the day she didn’t look anymore was heartbreaking. She’s doing better than that day, but she still seems… sad. I guess that’s to be expected.

I’ve also taken to obsessively worrying about my mother. She still isn’t right. Next week we’re going to a pulmonary specialist to see if she has asthma or COPD. She’s not happy about it, and the doctor really wants us BOTH to get tested for sleep apnea, but it is what it is. I need her to be better… I didn’t know what I was going to do without her, and I don’t want to meditate on that again for a long while.

Seems the universe has decided that year 29 will be the worst year ever… it kind of has been. I’m emotionally more stable, but in general everything is terrible. If I wasn’t medicated, I might be dead now… I don’t even know how I got through having to put Keagan down myself. I couldn’t have done that before. I’d have rather died myself. I guess that’s a testament to the drugs, but I’m getting really tired of things just making me stronger instead of killing me, tbh.

I was getting frustrated at my depression over Keagan in the last entry… but I do think that it’s better to know why you’re depressed than to just be depressed for seemingly no reason. I knew what to be mad at, and I knew what caused me pain…. it didn’t make the pain better, but at least when people asked what was wrong I could tell them.

I’m still sad. A lot. I’m sleeping more than usual. My eating habits are whacked out again… but I guess it’s getting better. I ordered a necklace with a good picture of me and Keagan in it…. that helped. I still need to find a good one to hang in the house, but until my internet gets fixed tomorrow I’ve been unable to flip through all my pictures to find a good one.

Things are bad. I hate everything. But even with all the animosity for living that I have, and all the tears I’ve shed in the past 6 months… I’m still not as sad as I used to be… and all that tells me is that I was really fucking sad…

Secret Vacation

So. I got some vacation time this week.

I was talking to Bosslady about how I was going to lose my vacation this year. You see, at my place of work if you don’t USE the vacation, you LOSE it, because the company doesn’t pay it out. So, I was telling Bosslady how I lost my vacation and she was like NO YOU DID NOT!!! TAKE THE VACATION! NOW!

So, I was on vacation this week. I didn’t tell anyone, because… they might wanna do stuff… and I had things I wanted to get done.

I cleaned mom’s house Monday. I didn’t CLEAN IT clean it, but I vacuumed like four times for dog hair, cleaned the bathrooms, and mowed the lawn.
Tuesday I had problems doing things… Kinda wore myself out Monday, I guess. Still, I managed to mow my front and backyard.
Wednesday I went to Lowes for some garden stuff, including some Lois flowers. They’re called Lantana, and my grandma, Lois, grew them in giant bushes in Florida.

Wednesday evening I called to be sure Mothership had left work and she was NOT good. She was dizzy and nauseous, so I went and got her from work. When we got home she threw up… and I panicked. It was too much like that day I had to take her to Urgent Care… I don’t know if I can survive her in the hospital again. Fortunately, I set her up in bed and she woke up much better. That meant that I had to take her back to work Thursday, though.

So this morning I took her to work. It was a pleasant enough ride. Afterward, since I had a blood pressure check on that side of town at 1030 anyways, I went to Village Inn for breakfast. It wasn’t my best idea to eat before a blood pressure check. The omelet upset my stomach, which I think raised my blood pressure some; also: salt content. So I went in for the check and it was 138/90. That’s good, but it’s not quite where they wanted it to be. As a result, my doctor increased my Procardia. Doubled it, actually.

Here is the baffling thing about this experience.

My shrink reduced my Effexor because she thought it was raising my blood pressure. Last week, after I saw Joe and had better blood pressure, I got her to agree to increase it again and let me keep the Wellbutrin. That was major. Because it’s not as low as they wanted it, my Effexor might be in danger again.

I can’t go back to how I was before the Effexor. I woke every morning wishing I hadn’t. It’s no way to live. While I’m not 100% great right now, I’m better. That little bit of better is so important to me. I’ll do anything to keep the Effexor. That’s an important determination to make, because the Procardia is causing some tiredness and joint pain… and this flushing thing where I’m just super hecking hot a lot of the time. Procardia is not pleasant when you tend to get every single side effect known to occur… but I can’t go back. I need the Effexor because I like wanting to live.

Admittedly, the tiredness and joint pain is hindering my former burst of energy that I got with the Effexor, but I’m still better on the Effexor than off of it.

We’ll just have to see how this plays out. Tomorrow I wanna do more yard work, and I’m getting the dogs groomed. It would be great to have a nice backyard to read in…

Mom’s Anxiety

I work with my mom. It’s kind of nice, but it’s also kind of awful.

It’s not awful for the reasons that other people I’ve known hate working with family, which is usually that they wanna do work one way and the parent wants it done another, and ‘omg my dad/mom isn’t respecting my abilities as an adult’ blah blah blah. No, my work experience came with totally different trials and tribulations. I was always held to a higher standard than other employees, because my mom never wanted anyone to say that I had it easy. So, she made it ten times harder; I think she was hoping I’d quit. I was never allowed to file a complaint about another employee, because that could be see as an act of nepotism. So, I just had to grin and bear it, even when people made my life a living hell. More than once I looked for other jobs because I wasn’t allowed to file complaints and I wasn’t sure I could stand to come to work another day. Fortunately, those people eventually left. She never even wanted me to work there, and for the first few years she treated me like I didn’t belong at all. Instead of backing off, though, I felt like I had to prove her wrong… and now I’m her second in command.

The biggest problem with working with my mother is that my entire life I’ve been going to work with her. She couldn’t get a sitter for most of my childhood, so when I was sick, or there was a day off from school, I ended up at work with my mom. She always put me to work, too. When I was a kid, she’d give me simple work to do, like putting stuff in order alphabetically or numerically, since I was at work with her anyways. It wasn’t until I got a little older that I realized how much time she really spent at work, because when I was old enough to come home and lock the door behind me (at all of age 10) I spent a lot of time alone. That only lasted for about six years, at which point I could drive and started going to work after school… and… well I just never stopped coming to work.

During that six years where I spend a lot of time alone I watched a lot of PBS, learned to cook, and spent my evenings pretending not to notice my mother was wiped out and depressed. There was a stretch where she changed jobs every single year for like five years, and I wasn’t sure she was gonna make it through that, because she’d just come home and cry. There was when she worked at a multi-franchise store, all the terrible bosses that berated her, and the time she got let go because a company bought her store and brought in their own people. What I learned from watching my mother was that A, work was awful, 2, no matter how you feel you go to work because money is more important than happiness or health, and D, there’s nothing that a person can’t get through, even if they don’t come out better on the other side.

Part of why I wanted to prove that I could do everything she threw at me was because I felt like she needed help at work. The downside to that is that now I go to work with her everyday, do a lot of things to help, and she still goes home exhausted and depressed. God forbid anything unexpected or accidental happens: my mother’s anxiety has grown so much over the years I don’t honestly know how she functions. She’s just always in a panic… so I try to field the stress for her, at the expense of my own happiness… which she fights me on, tooth and nail, all the time.

This week, my mother is on vacation. It’s a staycation and she’s trying to do a bunch of work on her house. This morning I got a panicked phone call from her where she was looking at something from home and realized she missed something and now she’s in a panic and how could she be so stupid and how will she fix it and… She’s not having a good vacation anyways, because she’s perpetually mad at her body for being fat and getting old and not doing what she wants it to do. Now she’s already stressing over next week when she’s back.

I want to move to Oregon. Yes, I have a good friend there that I’d like to be closer to, and yes, I’d like to live somewhere mostly devoid of snow, but mostly I want to move somewhere that I can get a job and take care of my mother. She doesn’t want that. She stresses about if she can keep going to work, and how much money she can pull from social security, versus how much she’d get if she waited longer. She’s tried to get me to move back home to the south because it’s cheap and there’s “family” down there, so when she dies I’m not alone. She worries about everything and won’t let me just take care of her. I guess she fancies she’s not old enough for me to need to do that yet, but emotionally she’s like 197. Someone should take care of her.

I don’t know what to do about my mom. I don’t know what to do about me.

Hell of a pair we make… an older woman with major depression and a bipolar kid stuck in a bad mood for about two years now. Something has to change… even if I have to drag her, kicking and screaming to a place where things could be better.

Side Effects

It’s 3am and I’m awake for two reasons… 1, I had to Pee but 2, Abilify fucks with your dreams.

The weekend was weird for me and side effects.

Friday night I went to karaoke. Does Abilify interact with alcohol? Absolutely, but not like I thought it would. Usually you end up being a lightweight and acting a fool when you try to drink on new drugs. This was not the case, I was just very social. Literally, I didn’t feel drunk at all….  until I was driving home and became aware VERY QUICKLY that my reaction time was WAY slow… I made it home okay, since the bar was close to home, but in the future if I plan on drinking, it’s worth taking a Lyft.
Also, as an aside, David2, Bird, and I got invited to an orgy before we left the bar. That’s fun. We all fled… stranger orgies are bad.

Saturday I thought I was dying. In retrospect, a few things probably contributed to this. A, I drank the night before. I didn’t have a hangover the next day, but I’m definitely considering that drinking might elicit more side effects than I previously thought it would. 2, I didn’t take my pill at night. I missed it because I was too busy trying to go out, so I took it in the morning. There is something to be said for what you sleep through when you take meds at night. D, I panicked. Panic always just makes shit worse.

So I go to see War for the Planet of the Apes with Mothership, and I can barely eat. I’ve developed this thing where I am full most of the time, but I get hungry more often. That’s not a listed side effect but it’s a new thing. Then, I get heart palpitations. That’s a listed side effect, but it’s a terrifying one. I hate that feeling, and when it got coupled with a hot flash and intestinal distress, it’s a spooky side effect that made me think I was potentially having a heart attack. I got dizzy, and upset, and mom ended up having to drive us home.

Mom baffles me. As long as I can remember, if I’m feeling bad, she is meh about it. When I had a kidney stone that sent me to the ER, she took her time getting ready to take me to the ER. She was more concerned about whether I smelled like Jager than the crippling pain I was in. Likewise, when I told her I thought I might be having a heart attack because my heart was racing so bad, she just asked why. To which I quite angrily said, BECAUSE MY HEART IS RACING AND EVERYTHING IS BAD. I love my mother, and sometimes her eerie calm is handy, like when I had gallstones and was so panicked and pained that all I could do was walk clockwise in a circle and writhe, but in general, her tendency to act unfeeling is unsettling, at best. I’ve begun to wonder if she’s really JUST depressed, or if she, like dad and I, has a mood or personality disorder. She could be histrionic…

Anyways, she got me home and I spent the rest of the day trying to cool off and recover. That meant I was up late, though, so I filled the time with FFXV again. I also started War of the Worlds before bed. Being able to read again is nice.

Sunday was better. I was up early and got in some gaming time. Mostly I just hung out, but I’m real task oriented. I like to DO things that I was previously unable to do. I got some drawing in, and only suffered one hot flash. I went to mom’s and we watched two episodes of Twin Peaks, and ordered pizza. Before bed I also finished the 15th Oz book. There are 25 of them, but I am stopping here, because that’s how far my collection goes. It was an ok day.

But the dreams. I had been really concerned about the dreams, anyways, because when I was on Risperdol I had awful nightmares, but I’m not having nightmares. My dreams are just real involved. It’s like my cognitive processes don’t shut down at all when I sleep now, so it just runs scenarios over and over, trying to determine the best outcome. I’ve quit my job seven times tonight in my dreams. None end well.

Well, it’s 4am now, and I wanna catch my last hour of sleep. But yeah, I’m not sure what to make of Abilify. I contacted my doc to see what she thinks, but again, she’s a Kaiser doc! And I really don’t think she cares if I die or get better.

Mothership

I’m abnormally close to my mother. Not in a gross way, just in an uncommon way.

After my dad left, things were bad. We were broke. People kept breaking into our house. She lost her job. All kinds of shit just rained down on us from the sky like some cataclysmic plague sent by god. Things got worse and worse, to the point that my mother was selling off our possessions on the side of the road to make ends meet. I even setup my own little stand, at 2 years old, and sold my toys, but I remember it feeling like some kind of game than something dire. Things were bad, really bad, but my mother is the kind of person that made shit work. I never knew things were so bad until I got older.

Things got a little better later. Mom somehow managed to afford my tuition for private school, and a little duplex home. I had a happy childhood, really, but eventually things were bad again. We were strapped.

We moved to another state so that she could get a job and we could have a better life where we didn’t sell all our things to strangers or cut corners on anything and everything. It was a rough start. I remember that we lived in a motel room for a while. That didn’t bother me so much, because after my dad left I started sleeping with her anyways. We eventually found an apartment, but it wasn’t in a good part of town, so I wasn’t allowed to play outside. Instead, I got the master bedroom so I had room to play inside.

Things got better, but not without consequence. Mom finally made enough money to buy a really real house, but landing the sale nearly killed her. Then the overtime she had to work to pay for the house nearly killed her. Also, taking me out of private school nearly killed her. She felt incredibly guilty about the fact that I became a latch-key kid and spent tons of time alone. She’s spent most of my life feeling guilty. Guilty for picking the wrong dad, for not being able to make time, for working too much, for not providing enough, for this, and that, this thing over here…

When I turned seventeen and graduated from high school, she helped me buy the house next door to her, as it was a foreclosure and I kept threatening to move up where the druggies lived: it was all I could afford. The house she’d bought was far too small for me and her to co-habitate (not a word, btw)… At a puny 750 sq ft, we just tripped over each other and got under each other’s skin. We tried to make the house nice, but it never really got there. While it was the most economic thing she ever did for me, I’m not always sure it was our best choice.

I had a house, so I filled it. I filled it with things and pets, and at one point people. In recent years, what was a thing to fill was just became something to hold me back from doing anything. I have too many things. I have too many pets. Somehow I ended up with no people, though. No room for them with all those things and pets.

I never felt like I could move. Moving four dogs and a cat is daunting. Going through all my shit and getting rid of a bunch of it is daunting. More than anything, if I left, I’d leave my mother alone. Most people don’t think twice about that kind of thing, but my mother is single with no family in the state. Really, no family in the world, as the family doesn’t really stay in touch. Her sister is worthless and doesn’t even call to check on her. Mom does have an uncle around her age that checks in on her, but I don’t think she’d like to hang out with him ALL the time.

So leaving would literally leave her here alone. What if something were to happen? It would be my fault. I wouldn’t be here to do anything for her.

But what do you do when you’re not happy?

It’s not a recent thing, but I feel like whenever I talk, my mother gets mad at me. She doesn’t like when I explain thing. She doesn’t like when I tell her fun facts. She seems happier when I don’t know, like she just wants to say something without having things explained to her. It makes me feel like shit, to be honest. I don’t know how to be another way, but my nature seems to irritate her. She’s always accusing me of being agitated just because I’m explanatory and saying I’m getting upset, but I only get upset when I try to tell her something and she just goes, “I dunno.” I AM TELLING YOU. NOW YOU KNOW. WHY DO YOU NOT LISTEN TO ME?!

I’m not sure what to do when I think I’d be better mentally if I were away from her, but can’t bring myself to leave her here alone…