Can my own brain be my kryptonite?

Could you imagine if kryptonite was one of Superman’s appendages? He’d be kind of screwed if he got cataplexic everywhere he went. So basically I’m kind of screwed because my kryptonite is my own brain.

Bless Her Fucking Heart. You can read about the hot mess I'm talking about on Crumpets and Bollocks.

I take my brain with me everywhere I go, yet my mind is always missing. Here are some highlights to how this works… (Try not to feel too sorry for me).

Bat Shit Crazy

If you follow me, you know this. I’m crazy. I was always crazy, in a “brace yourself for a good ride” kind of way. Ballsy. A crazy people looked up to. But then CHRONIC SEVERE sleep deprivation mixed with a little PTSD kicked in with motherhood, and now I have a crazy that makes people feel embarrassed for me.

Some of my symptoms include:

I have no idea what day it is. For 7 years, I operated 24/7, literally. There were no days. It was one long day. I still have no concept of a day, so I miss all appointments and lose track of time. My problem isn’t I don’t know what day something is. My problem is I have no idea what day I’m on.

Sleeping Disorder. For 7 years, every time I fell asleep, someone woke me up that instant. And it would take 5 to 25 moments of that before my world would actually let me sleep. They still do it. My body won’t fall asleep anymore. I have to take 3 different sleeping pills to fall asleep, and even then, I don’t think I’m really sleeping.

No energy. I’m always tired. Between the sleeping disorder, the kids, and shit… I’m drained before I can accomplish anything. I take pills for that too. Actually, I’m prescribed a stimulant, but if I mix it with Sudafed (thank you chronic sinus infections), and about 6 to 7 of those powdered vitamin energy drinks, I can feel normal from 6 AM to 3 PM, and sometimes again from 6 PM to 9 PM. As long as I don’t have a migraine. Don’t worry about my heart. My heart rate goes up when the stuff wears off and I’m tired and try to keep moving.

I’m also depressed. I don’t want to do anything. I don’t even want to lay in bed, but because I don’t want to do anything else, I go lay in bed until I can’t stand it anymore, and then I work on the computer with all these projects or clean until I can’t stand doing that anymore.

I feel alone and have no support. I spend my day talking to only the computer. I’ve been up for 3 hours, and the only words I’ve said today are written in this post. I have a husband and 3 kids, a few friends, a mom down the street, and I’m alone in this world. I am their support. Not the other way around.

Low self esteem. Since motherhood, I’ve failed at everything I do. Thanks to lithium, I’ve gained 50 pounds. My self talk is, “This will flop. Nobody wants your stuff Michelle. Just do it anyway and see what happens.” You know something? The most popular people known as the Influencers are positive, upbeat people who speak highly of themselves and constantly shows everyone they are going places. I don’t know if I can fake that to get people interested in free pictures or to read a funny post about men. You have no idea how much a low self esteem can influence one’s ability to succeed.

Poor organization. You want me to tell you my point, and then provide 3 to 5 supporting details like English class told you to. I want to give you 5 to 10 details so that you can get a feel for what I really mean. As a writer, I can write a thousand words in less than 20 minutes, but it takes me hours to edit and organize, and because I can’t organize well, it’s very draining. I can’t organize well because I think people who organize are looking for a false sense of order in a chaotic world enabling a denial of that chaos. I embrace the chaos.

Cataplexy. I go completely limp, like knock myself out dropping to the floor can’t speak or smile, limp… when I have as trong emotion like laugh too hard. It’s partial when in social settings. That really is fun. Like job interviews.

Clusterfuck of Nuts

I like to bite off a little more than I can chew to keep the day interesting and the challenge worthy to pursue, but lately, I’ve been a “to-do list adder” fanatic. Not a finisher fanatic. And adder fanatic. Let me list out my major projects that are going to make me ADHD before I can complete them:

Managing 4 blogs

I want to write these books ASAP

  • Dirty word thesaurus
  • a blogger how-to (The Good Blogging Book is my working title)
  • DIY Mom for the Holidays for fall
  • A Journal for kids that adults can use, one that requires drawing pictures and promotes a healthy self esteem
  • Modern Kama Sutra (maybe sex fails… with a hand-made limited edition pop up series)
  • Eventually a memoir-ish book


Katie Paul and I are teaming up to revamp my old Crumpets and Bollocks Zazzle Store. Two graphic artists are getting together for this project.

Stop the bullying by helping my kid’s popularity

Kids keep making fun of Solma (age 8). Those little shits at that school broke my heart more than any man ever could. As a result, I’m adding…

  • Do her hair every morning, like really do her hair
  • Make sure she showers every day and her clothes match
  • Throw money on the problem as much as humanly possible because nobody cares what rich people look like
  • Spend more time with her at the school (the more popular I am, the more popular she is)
  • Publish a book. I’ve been meaning to do this, but this is making me put it in gear sooner than I wanted. All 3 of my kids are talented, so I want them to start a business and publish some children’s books, written and illustrated by them. Then put their names as the author and get some copies to their school library. Well that should make some haters jealous if I can pull it off.

Funny story: I told Solma to tell the kids every time they say something mean, “Do I look like your mother?” Gabby, age 9, chimed in, “Mom, that’s mean. You can’t stop mean with more mean. You have to do something nice.” So now we decided to turn the other cheek. These parents have no idea how much Gabby just saved their kids some hell because I bully bullies, and I’m better at it.

Clean my house

I did a week of focusing on uploading pics to The Write Moms, a week without meds where I just laid in bed and cried, and now my house looks like a tornado took a shit. I don’t just want to pick up and clean. I want to shampoo carpet too. Maybe rearrange some things while I’m at it.

 Hot Mess

I want to do everything at once on my worst day…. I’m really just a hot mess all the way around thanks to my brain, but despite my brain, I’ve been doing things. Hopefully I’ll be going somewhere with it. I’ll just keep trying like a Yo Gabba Gabba song because I don’t know what else to do.

My kryptonite is the only thing that is going to save me at this point.

This is part of Finish the Sentence Friday

Finish the Sentence Friday

For more Kryptonite Posts, check out The Golden Spoons.

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