Free advice

Don’t blog or post when you are this pissed.

Lemme fill ya’ll in . . .

Ok. So yesterday I see what appears to be a rabbid dog – jumping around like fucking old yeller. Frantically I yell at my husband to lock the doors.

Okay, hind sight, he probably WASN’T going to try to open the car doors. But ya never can tell. I’m just sayin’.

Taking my clonipins daily has really proven to help (thanks to my mefical doctor’s advise).  Even today.   The Jaguar Roadside Assistant guy complimented me on not throwing a tantrum, or having a major meltdown. Something tells me they have a Red Flag File for when I call . . .

Yeah, you caught that, huh? Yep. Surprise, surprise. Jag broke down, yet again. And once again, with Diva. Today it happened just after we’d brought lunch to the Hubs.  I made a quick stop at Sprouts* for some homeopathic teething drops, all-natural butt cream, & gluten-free bread.  Get out to the car. It starts, then dies. It does that. All 3 have from time to time, so didn’t think much of it.  I hit it again & tried to punch gas, but died.  Wait a few minutes, hit it again & start to slam into gear, but knob locked & it died.  One more try before calling Jaguar . . . Okay. They’ll have tow truck there in 1 hour. I requested Jordan’s, but they said Safari will be quicker.   Call Park Place & have them send a porter to take me & Diva to dealership for loaner.  He gets there.  Diva hates Gary.  And he’s my usual porter. That’s just some sad shit when you have your usual porter . . . I know. 

Hour & a half goes by. Camamilla had settled her down.  Then I get a call – 45 more minutes. So I tell Gary to take me home so I can feed her lunch & get my son from school.  They expected me to leave my car in a grocery store parking lot in a DFW suburb with the keys in it. I told her she was fucking out to lunch & to schedule someone to meet my husband with a tow truck at 5:30. 

So, my day was fucked royal!! And, to top things off . . . EX decided that after he demanded to be able to help Boo with his homework, I needed to do it with him, but not until after he’d called me names to my son, while yelling at him & making him cry last week.  So all afternoon today, I rode Boo’s ass like a mule to get it done.  Poor kid. By 9 he was exhausted. I called EX & explained & he said he doesn’t have to do it ALL tonight.  Stellar parenting. But it gets better. The last 2 nights I’m sleeping on the couch because EX let an 8-yr-old watch Helix.  So Boo is terrified & having nightmares about some hideous disease/plague. 

Last night Diva woke at 2AM & spent the next 3 hours pushing my blankets onto the floor & kicking me in the kidneys.  

Now, I gotta change out car seats.  I just can’t. I can’t move any further tonight. Headache’s gone, but I’m beat the fuck down.

*Sprouts Review: much better selection, wider aisles, considerate customers, & helpful, friendly staff, compared to Trader Joe’s.  Much better prices than Whole Foods. And, closer to home w/ much less traffic than either TJ’s or WF (Located on Preston at Park, versus Sprouts on Legacy in an old, run-down-ish area). Yeah, I’ll be sure to leave the keys to my Jag there! 

In a nutshell: I make a daily journey through hell; Go shop at Sprouts because it’s a great place; Don’t buy a Jaguar; Take your OCD meds daily; & Don’t marry an asshole unless you bury him when you leave his sorry ass.

That is all. 

Oh, the gluten, as I’m reading reasearch from the Mayo, it suggests that gluten plays a huge role in brain health, most notably neuroligical issues, as it DOES cross the brain blood barriers that most things cannot. Worth a shot. Cutting out processed foods, banning the can, staying away from high fructose corn syrup, & limiting my caffeine to 1 cup a Joe/day I have seen dramatic improvements with ADHD symotoms. Thank you, Dr. Mark Hedlun!!! Now I’m gonna try to cut gluten when & where I am able.

Fucking Peachy!

So, now I gotta find a new shrink. Mine is a fucktard!  Like I have fucking time to do their stupid day therapy clinic. Like I give a damn. Who the hell wants to do that? And just how the fuck is sitting with a group of other lunatics supposed to help me? 

So I refused treatment. So she refused to treat me.  Fucking bitch!, right? Uuugh. The Meier Clinic! Don’t go there. They don’t do a thing but suck your time & money.  Other people with OCD get medicine.  Not these people.  Let’s pray about it. Kiss my ass.  If that’s the case, they better get an exorcist for my crazy shit!

So, her options to me were be hospitalized at a mental institution or give them $14,000.  Hell, for $14,000, I’ll take door number 2: a week long vacation to a private island.  Or door #3: daily maid service for a year. $14,000 – can you kiss my ass when I bend over?!

Strangely, I’m not really pissed or upset.  Aggravated.  Aggravated cuz now I gotta find a shrink with his head NOT burried up his own ass & worried about filling a clinic with idiots.  Scare tactics don’t work on me.  I just get my ball (& wallet), & go home. 

I can do this.  I will find a dr who can medicate me so I can function at 100%, or I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing now; try my best.

Life is short. Fuck the mess & disorder.  I will clean when Diva & Boo grow up.  I am just going to have buckets for the various clutter.  I can do this on my own, if I have to.   And looks like I’m on my own for a while. 

Hang in there, & I’ll do the same.


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