Not what I wanted to hear with my coffee

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed again. It’s been too hot to sleep here until about midnight so I’ve stayed up much later than I usually do for about the last week. I need between 10 and 12 hours of sleep a night to be a semi functional human being the next day and I haven’t been getting that most days. I’ve been sleeping in longer than I should but I’ve been trying my best.

I slept way too long today. I didn’t get up until almost 11 and even that was very hard. I’m pretty sure I’m in the extended beginning of a bad episode that is going to get worse in the next few days. I always feel them coming. Like when you see and smell and feel a storm coming.

Today I was trying at least a little not to be a hell beast but my husband started talking to me. I tried to get it across to him that this was not the brightest of ideas but instead he started to talk to me about THINGS HE SHOULDN”T TALK TO ME ABOUT EVER especially not first thing in the morning when I’m dog tired and trying to be a civilized human being.

My cynical, pessimistic husband was telling me that I was wrong to resent the amount of money that we pay my in laws for rent (utilities and groceries) and that I need to look on the bright side and appreciate that it really isn’t that much for rent.

The reasons that this is something he shouldn’t say to me is firstly no matter how many times I explain it to him, he’ll never understand it’s not the money we pay them, it’s how that money is spent that bothers me. [for brevity and clarifications sake, my mother in law is a hoarder and spends a ridiculous amount of money on food that ends up in the garbage. She stocks a pantry she never uses and it keeps getting bigger and bigger until it expires and she is made to throw it away]

Secondly because I am the fucking queen of silver linings! I am the one who always looks on the bright side and tries to find the good in everything. And in the last several years of our increasingly difficult marriage he has failed to see good in anything. He is always negative, always hopeless, always seeing only what’s wrong.

I will interrupt myself by saying that maybe he’s turned over another leaf. Maybe he’s decided to change and try to see the good in things. I hope so, I will continue to hope so, but I know better.

Thirdly because the way he says these things. It’s not “hey, maybe you should try to find the good” it’s “you’ve been a terrible person lately and you don’t ever do anything and you should be as enlightened and as appreciative as me that we only have to pay blahblah amount for rent because living anywhere else would be more expensive.”

Needless to say, I did not handle this well. I got mad. I didn’t yell, I don’t really do that. But I got snippy and huffy.

He then told me that I’m terrible to be around and asked if I’d talked to my therapist lately about why I’m angry all the time. I told him I KNOW why I’m angry all the time. It’s because I hate living here with every single ounce of my being and I don’t have anymore “looking on the positive side” when it comes to this situation because I used it all up over the last 3 years.

I do know that I’m being ungrateful. I do. My in laws do a lot for us and there is some question as to whether we’re going to be able to function on our own when we move out. (That question is also the answer as to why I’m not looking for a smaller place on my own instead of a larger apartment for all four of us. I’m sick, he’s sick and we have two kids to take care of. They need us both because neither of us could do it by ourselves so he’s my co caregiver. And I’m stuck okay with that for the time being.)

But I can’t be grateful anymore. I told him that.

Being grateful keeps me here. Taking the happy pills that keep me complacently numb instead of angry keeps me here.

If I’m not mad we’re never getting out of this fucking house, my daughter will never get into a better school  and I’m going to die here and be buried under my mother in laws mountain of expired canned food items in the basement. That we paid for.

Fuck. That. Shit.

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Editor Fall Out

For the last 36 days, my life has been kind of a mess. I’ve had a flicker of inspiration that  I tried to keep alive. When I had words, I pored them all into my screenplay. I was sick a lot and there were many days that I had no words at all. I’ve watched a lot of TV and movies in the last month. When I was tired and empty but felt productive I focused on my other creative outlet, crochet. Yes, I’m 35 and I crochet. I’ve been making a grannie square afghan for over a year and I’m a few rows from being finished. That at least gave me a sense of accomplishment. The last thing that has filled my days has been trying to find a new home for my family. It’s been very hard and very discouraging. There might be places in the U.S. where I can get a two bedroom apartment (we should really have a 3 bedroom, one for each kid) in a good school zone for $800 a month but it’s certainly not anywhere in fucking Utah. We’re planning on leaving Utah soon but can’t yet. More on that another day.

So it’s been a rough month. I have been sick a lot. There have been more days than I can count that I didn’t get out of bed. My pain has been terrible, I’ve been exhausted without relief and mostly in despair with small glimpses of hope and at the very most, okayness. Once in a while I would have days that weren’t just complete shit.

At the end of May, I’d done so much work on my screenplay that it stood at 90 pages. It’s almost done. But there was still some stuff missing and no matter what angle I looked at it, I couldn’t figure out what it was. So I turned to my editor.

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I’m pissed, let’s have a beer.

I have been angry all day today.

I can’t say I didn’t have some reason to wake up angry. Waking up moist from your son sleeping with you in a very wet diaper because your husband didn’t change him before bed, would probably make anyone a bit testy. I mean it’s pretty gross and really uncomfortable. But it usually doesn’t bother me for very long. So that’s not why.

I have never been a very angry person. I’m more, temperamentally, what you’d call chill, or easy going.  I went 28 years without ever saying the words “I am mad”. I will admit, for a very long time I was non-confrontational but a big part of the reason why was because I don’t get mad very often.

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Aside

Lalaland: Depressed

I just watched Lalaland for the first time. 

This is not a review of the movie but a review of myself through the medium of the movie. 

I’m not sure I liked it. 

I watched it partially from an analytical viewpoint to process the screenplay and compare it with what I’m learning. That might have taken some magic out of it. 

I discerned from watching the movie, that I am still kind of cranky. I wasn’t awed by its beauty. I wasn’t swept away by the whimsy. I usually would be.  I wasn’t overcome all nostalgic for a throwback to a period of musicals I watched and loved growing up. I usually would be. I didn’t find either Ryan Gosling or Emma Stone attractive. I usually would do. I was hardly excited at all when Emma’s character was from Boulder City Nevada, where my grandmother lived and I spent most of my childhood holidays. I’ll be excited about it later, maybe. 

So all is still not right in my mental world. I’m doing better but I haven’t gotten my equilibrium back yet. This no mood medication journey I’m on is definitely a struggle. But I’ve been through worse. 

I’d  really like to enjoy things again. That’d be super nice. Is that too much to ask for? 

That being said the acting was great and the music was cool. 

I’ll watch it again when I’m happy. Maybe I’ll like it then. 

Motivation is a panic inducing bitch.

I’m feeling panicky today.

Not so much anxious as restless.

If I’m sitting, I should be standing. If I’m laying down, I should be walking around. If I’m watching a TV show, I need to be doing something else too. If I’m not doing anything, I should be writing.

It’s not anxiety it’s fear of missing out induced panic.

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