mean mom of 2 butt nuggets

If it's between reading this and protesting that treasonous shit weasel, protest the treasonous shit weasel, please.

Ok. So I'm never more aware of being adopted than when my family tells me to calm down. Or "cool my jets" which is today's version.

My parents are calm. Calm, civil, reasonable, polite, and quiet. My father went to Harvard Law and is some kind of wizard with contracts.

My mom was a teacher. She's retired now, but taught history, and then taught teachers how to teach.

They are both well respected, professional people.

I must horrify them lol

I'm not a professional anything. I'm not calm. I have never been calm. And I have thousands of witnesses who will tell you that if my life depended on me being quiet, I'd last about five minutes.

My sister, who is also adopted, is more like them. She's not loud, like me. She's polite, like them. She can play nice with society. I hate society.

My cousins are not adopted. They look so much like their father, who looks so much like my Dad, and honestly the resemblance freaks me out a little.

If you've been playing along, you know I have an irrational fear of doppelgangers, which includes identical twins. Fucking things are terrifying lol

Anyway, these folks, my family, are all alike in ways that I just can't fake. I can't be calm and quiet when I'm talking about shit that matters to me.

Today it was ICE, those gestapo bastards.

I got into it on a group thread with other protesters. I mentioned I was bummed at how many people were thanking cops for standing there with guns.

The response was not great! Someone said they were just doing their jobs 🤡 and then went on to say, and I quote

"That's one of the major issues with ICE enforcement. They can do their jobs professionally and with humility as public servants but they act very entitled."

I think I should be commended for my restraint, because I don't think I've heard anything so fucking stupid from a liberal since Chuck Schumer. Though I've been trying to avoid noticing their performative inaction so I don't have an aneurysm.

All that I could've dealt with, however. And I did. I wasn't even mean on the thread. I asked for clarification and got it.

Spoiler alert it was shitty.

But on my family thread, my cousin told me to cool my jets. About ICE and people making excuses for them. Because we know this guy, I guess.

This is a pattern with my family. They like and approve of me up to a point. Then I need to be less me and more them, so that no one is uncomfortable.

Gaza. Protesting. Democrats. Guns. We're on the same side, I'm told, but the way I express myself is wrong. I'm too loud. Too angry. Too animated. Too mean.

This is too long and too personal, and I know that. I should delete it.

I know my daughter is only going to be this age for so long. She's only going to want my attention for so long.

He said it's his money and he can do what he wants and I said you sure can, scab!

To be clear, he hasn't ordered it. I'm just mad he won't try my kale.

That's my story of how I got to call my father-in-law a scab without him actually doing anything.

I'm not very good, but I've moved beyond just sharpening sticks into points.

I mean, I almost can. But my daughter has such intense sensory issues she won't let me comb them out, or use heat with the blow-dryer to kill them.

I've now done this seventeen thousand times. The endless laundry. Picking through their hair. Combing, disinfecting, changing sheets, switching out stuff animals.

I don't know how many times my son has cried today. Bluey and Bingo never throw shitty tantrums and say nasty things to their parents because they can't watch tv.

And their parents never have to say no because they're tired or have to work. And if they do, the kids understand.

This latest round of crying was actually because I told him that instead of building the Lego thing right now, let's wait a half hour.

Cue the miserable sobs.

Picketing was fun, cause I hate Disney and fuck studios for their bullshit greed. You don't have content without writers, you stupid assholes.

The sweep wasn't, but they never are. We're there to help residents and record the bullshit the city is doing instead of actually giving people housing.

But I did get to meet five kittens and oh my fucking god.

Anyway, I love cake. In particular, birthday cake. Sheet cake, whatever. And I'll get cake for any reason at all. But I didn't get myself a birthday cake, cause I kinda thought I didn't have to. But there's been no cake. Not even from my mutual aid group, who is pretty big on birthdays and celebrating.

And like. Really? Nobody could've gone out and done the very basic hey I bet whereisbizzy would like that cake and I'll grab it for her birthday?

Wilder just sent me away for yelling at the boy for insisting he get dessert even though he didn't eat his dinner, which was fucking pancakes.

My addictive ass personality took none of this into account when considering the tablets either. I regret those more than anything else, because he's such a little bastard when he's forced to put it down.

I've been doing outreach work with unhoused folks since August. That's when I became (more) radicalized and decided that abolishing the police is the only way forward.

All the kids that are coughing, sneezing, have runny noses, etc? They're totes cool with.

I haven't emptied the dishwasher yet. It's ten feet away from me and I'm just sitting on the couch. It really feels like I can't make myself get up.

That means my week sucks. I love my kids but get the fuck away from me. Especially while I'm sick with one of their colds, I'm wildly under medicated, and I've got my period, because of course I do.

I just wanna lay here and sleep and occasionally roll over and eat soup and chocolate and not fucking cough.

Meaning, since I've had covid it doesn't work right.

After my son was born I could feel the Zoloft stop working. For me, it feels like a sick, hungover feeling. So I was put on Effexor.

Now, I've been on Effexor before, in my twenties. I believe I got up to 75mg and noticed immediately that any delay in my dose resulted in immediate brain zaps, dizziness, and overall feeling insanely off. I wasn't on it for long.

But this time I felt okay. Even skipping a dose didn't result in immediate inability to get out of bed.

Well. Until the covid.

So my doctor increases my dose, I feel a little better, then I either lost or never got my 90-day refill. I'm out.

At first I felt fine. I thought maybe I could go off of it. Then I noticed I was not fine, the brain zaps were growing increasingly frequent and disruptive.

That's today. I'm clammy and sweaty and can't move my eyes without triggering the zaps.

My insurance was immediately concerned about that.

Just kidding insurance companies want you to die so they can stop paying as little as possible to "try" to keep you alive and well.

They're claiming they can't possibly fill my Effexor, which you cannot abuse, I've tried - because they just filled it.

So maybe in May they'll approve my antidepressant which keeps me from feeling suicidal, hopeless, angry, and on the edge of tears all the time.