Screaming into the Void

There’s a certain comfort knowing that these won’t be read unless I draw attention to it.

I find it ironic how solitude apparently weighs on me. I once spent an entire summer at home and online without it phasing me. My first foray into college living was awful because I wasn’t at all acclimated to living around so many people. Being alone was my state of mind and it never once bothered me. This is no longer the case, or so it seems.

The irony comes into play due to the fact that I still have at the very least a distaste for humanity. But not interacting with anyone takes a toll. I hate people to be honest. The idea of going out and having coffee with the mom crowd makes me want to chug antifreeze. Yet living in isolation just causes a downward spiral.

I’m sure there’s a lesson to be learned in all of this, but all I can think is that the damn zombie apocalypse needs to start already

Cliches and what not

I hate the phrase “Things will get better.”

I’ve been hearing that cliche my entire life, but guess what?
Spoiler alert: it really doesn’t.

Like, if I had a definitive date I’d probably be okay. Even if that shit was 10 years off I’d still be okay because there would be a light at the end of the tunnel. But life doesn’t come with a map, or outline, or even a goddamn clue. So we carry on  hoping for less suffering than the day prior.

Yeah, I’m not doing well. I can’t stay asleep at night, which means I can’t stay awake during the day. Energy is shot and I wish I was as well. I probably shouldn’t write that but it’s not like anyone reads this. Besides, the shrink doesn’t take my newly revived suicide ideation seriously so whatever.

I could totally go for a mild coma right now.

I suck at continuity.

So much has happened since I last posted. Which isn’t surprising considering that was January and here we are in September. I’d like to say “Oh, life’s been crazy” or “I haven’t had time to write!”  Both are bullshit. Things have been crazy yes, but that’s no excuse. I let myself get wrapped up in everything and just internalized it. Bad, bad Kristina. I really need to quit doing that, or at least I assume a shrink would tell me. In any case, let’s do a recap of the past several months.

March: I got married ❤️
Everything went perfectly and I couldn’t imagine a better wedding day. I hold on to this memory a lot, because things went completely to shit not long after.

April: My job drastically cut my hours. Considering I was barely making enough to cover the bills and have a tiny bit left over, this was devastating. I went from a solid 40 to barely 30. Finding a new job was unfortunately not realistic as we are moving the first of August.

May-June: Kids are out of school and my stepdaughter is down for the summer. As one would expect with a houseful of girls, constant fighting breaks out. I start attempting to pack things, with little to zero success. Cost of Summer camp is eating me alive, but still have to get what I little paycheck I can while I can.


July: We go to Tampa for a week to find a house. Everything goes wrong. Husband and I get into our first big fight of our entire relationship. It is not a fun time. We finally find a house 2 days before we leave, though not ideal. Beggars and choosers.

I leave work to begin packing up everything as we are doing a DIY move in hopes of getting refunded by the Navy. We own too much crap. Am now at home all day with 3 kids.

I start my fight with Unemployment, and finally succeed at getting my $200 a week for the next 3 months.

Long story short, Everything gets packed up and we leave August first.

August: Florida is 5 billion degrees and I’m losing my mind. I have a house to unpack and 2 kids to get registered for school. Because my luck is shit, they get accepted to 2 different schools. I resign myself to driving Emmy to school everyday.

I’m hunting desperately for a job with no success. A large part of my problem being my current inflexible hours as B is leaving at the end of the month to take a required course in Virginia. He leaves towards the end of August, and now I am in a state where the closest people I know are a 45 minute drive. This is when the bipolar really starts kicking my ass.

Also, my dog is a dickhead who has escaped numerous times by now.

September: Still no luck with a job. Being at home by myself days on end is not good. Money has gone past tight to “how the fuck are we going to make it out of this”. Depression has set in to the point where I can’t stay awake all day. Hypersomnia I believe is the term. All this brings us to today.

I had the family over this weekend for Sarah’s birthday. It was great, but now I’m paying the price for it. Once again, I’m acutely aware of how isolated I am. If left up to me, I wouldn’t have gotten out of bed. But 2 girls are depending on me to keep it together, so I’m up for the current moment. My mother is coming down for a week tomorrow which will help. She says it’s for Sarah’s birthday, but I know she’s worried about me. I would be as well if I had the serotonin to care. Everyday is like I’m dragging a 50lbs weight with me. I’m sure I would hate everything if I had the strength or enthusiasm to. As is, I try to just stay numb.

So things are currently bleak. I’m pretty sure this was supposed to be an exercise in getting things off my mind and metaphorically on to paper to help clear things out. Didn’t exactly work that way.

 Well fuck.

Writing fuckery

It's time I start writing again.

This may or may have nothing to do with being off my meds.

Actually, it probably has a lot to do with that. Which I do not advocate. Unless they're illegal. Don't do those, just do the ones your doctor/shrink/person who writes you prescriptions tells you to.

This post had a point beyond drugs are bad or good depending.

I'm getting coffee now.