Saturday

I guess I hope my blog helps other people understand "the struggle".  The struggle with bipolar disorder.  The struggle with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome.  The struggle with caregiving.  The struggle with loving an alcoholic. The struggle with living in a verbally abusive relationship.  The struggle to run your own business.  No wonder I'm so depressed. 

Just typing that makes me tired.  I hope what I write helps people to understand you can get through. 

I'm not going to spout any of that "Life is precious" crap because I don't feel that way when I'm depressed.  I feel like life is a prison sentence and I'm serving my time.

No, I'm not going to do anything.  I just feel tired. 

Last night Ron wanted to have a "big talk" with me.  {sigh}  I told him he has GOT TO STOP with the verbal abuse.  He asked me what he was supposed to say, instead of verbal abuse. 

"I don't like that" I responded. 
"Stop." I replied. 

Oh, OK.  Today at the warehouse a woman "helpfully" left a long string of shopping carts blocking the short path to the tables, I had to walk Ron around.  He was pretty upset, but civil.   He even apologized for losing his temper. 

Later on today, we ordered Chinese food, and I put the cats in the bedroom.  Biscuit was wailing because he didn't like me picking him up.  Ron started yelling at me, saying I cared more about my stomach than the cats, if I weren't so fat....etc. 

So that didn't even last 21 hours.  I'm "supposed" to call my Dad tonight but I don't have it in me to do it.  They want to hear: I'm fine.  They want to hear: Ron is treating me well.  They want to hear: I'm not going to bother you with my problems. 

So, I won't.  I'm miserably depressed, staggering under a huge load, and I can barely figure out my cell phone.  No one can really help me, because, at the end, either I "suck it up" with Ron, or I leave. 

For now, leaving has presented more challenges than staying.  That is subject to change. 

I picked up Torbie (very carefully) and brought her to bed with me last night.  She slept all night (as far as I know) with me.  I didn't sleep very well because I had to be careful of her.  The last thing she needs is a big thigh coming down on her bad paw when I roll over. 

I didn't sleep well, but that's OK because: TORBIE!  I hit my snooze button.  A lot.  Poor Biscuit gave up on his breakfast. 

I got up, fed the cats, and cleaned the litter box.  I took my shower and got dressed.  I wore one of my performance t-shirts so I could breathe while I worked.  We went to the warehouse.  I got a lot of snack machine items.  It was a bitch loading them into the truck, lots of small pieces, but, like our driver said, "At least they're light".  The heaviest snack items is probably 5 pounds. 

I put all the chocolate in the cab, with the air conditioning.  The driver was OK with that. 

We went to work.  I got the carts and unloaded all the snacks.  It didn't look too bad and I got it all onto the carts.  I went and stocked.  I helped Ron.  I was pretty busy. 

They had Law & Order, SVU; on the TV like they always do.  Talk about depressing stuff.  At least it wasn't Orlando coverage. 

I am very sorry for the victims and families.  I know how awful it is to sit in that waiting room, waiting for news. 

I don't think I'm as horrified as other people, though.  For me, nothing is ever going to beat watching that gunman at my Dad's office when I was 13 years old, watching people carried out in body bags, unable to reach my father (no cell phones back then and he had the radio off), wondering if Dad was in a body bag, wondering for hours....

I don't think any event is going to "beat" that for horror unless I am personally involved in a live-shooter event.  In that case, if at work I will hide in the stockroom if I can't flee.  If I'm at Walmart, good luck. 

I hope you never experience anything like that.  It was hell, and not surprisingly, threw me into a suicidal depression.  I had to spend a month at the hospital and I was still suicidal when I got out.  So they put me on double doses of antidepressants and made me manic, but they couldn't see it.   So I became full blown bipolar, forced into manias by an antidepressant that didn't work.  I was still suicidal!  They finally took me off it years later. 

I wonder how much damage it did to my brain.  I don't blame my parents for that one, they were told this was the only thing.  For whatever reason, the medical professionals didn't see my manias.  It was just all around hell for everyone. 

I finally finished up at work.  We left.  We had to wait outside in the heat, sun, and humidity for over an hour because our driver was "stuck in traffic" (although no one told us this).  They kept saying he'd be there in 10 minutes, 10 minutes, 10 minutes. 

I felt like a baked potato when I got in the vehicle.  We had a straight trip home so that wasn't bad.  I was happy to go home, not so happy to see a strange vehicle in front of #6. 

I was worried they were going to do more construction, but they didn't.  I just took a nap for an hour or so, set an alarm, and rounded up the cats after we ordered our takeout.  The food came pretty fast and it was good. 

It's the first time I had orange chicken.  I liked it.  I used to love garlic chicken but I am allergic to garlic now - not severely, but enough that I get a headache if I consume it.  The orange chicken was just orange juice, hot pepper, and corn starch.  Like I said, good. 

I watched a little TV and checked my Facebook.  Ron is asleep so all is peaceful. 

I plan to go to bed as soon as I can.