117. Failing

Dear London Fire Snake Scorpio,

Arnold Schwarzenegger is someone I greatly admire, I think I told you that before. And he has this philosophy of counting the little wins, looking back and seeing how far you have come, instead of constantly feeling like a failure because you wait for the picture perfect moment.

And I try. I swear, my love, I try so hard, but it is so hard not to fall apart some days under the amount of fuck ups that I am. Monday was a full day. Monday I trained and felt strong. I knew I would pay for it. Since when am I allowed to have anything in my life without paying for it in blood? Even a moment of feeling capable has to be paid for.

And so, the money is low. The stress is high. The next day, the next three days actually, I spiraled into complete migraine nightmare, inability to move, or to sleep because of the pain and becoming the most shit mother I can be.

It does not help that Piggy’s surgery is tomorrow, and because I fear the interactions of her ADHD meds with the anesthesia I have stopped her medications on Friday to give it a week. It’s not bad for her. She doesn’t eat much on the meds and I know after the surgery the kids fast a bit too. It’s my third kid doing tonsils. So I wanted her to be without.

The result is violent tantrums and fists. I know I blamed her father last time, but it’s really easy to miss the cues where she is starving with the medication and spirals into violence.

God I am such a shit mother.

Yes, I am crying.

This morning was too much.

It started with me fighting the tail of the migraine. ALMOST out of it, but then I was not thinking – because it is so damn hard to think with a migraine – and took my ADHD meds. Which spiked the migraine right back up. For the past two days I have been impatient and snappy again. And this morning… sigh. This morning when Piggy decided to swim in her cornflakes because “no one got me a spoon” I lost it and pulled her from the plate by her arm.

She got upset and stood up, walk to where I retreated to and started punching me. I was so angry. SO ANGRY. And I told her “walk away before I hurt you.” I retreated back to the stove, still cooking breakfast to for the other 3, who are also ADHD of course and were bickering in the background, because hunger is a bitch when you are nuerodivergent. I barely held it together.

But when she came back less then 5 minutes later and punched me again I slapped her.

No excuse mate. No excuse.

It wasn’t a dramatic cinema slap, but it stung her hard. She went upstairs and I sat to eat, trying to stabilize my own blood sugar and craziness. Mornings here…

I am such a shit mom. God.

I am writing a book and Rory asks Mac “What kind of a mother would I be with my anxiety?” because she has an anxiety disorder and he tells her she’ll be “the best kind” but this is bullshit! It’s all romanticized lies because at the end of the day your fucked up mental conditions WILL spill on your kids. Will scar them.

And you will be fucking helpless to do anything but watch yourself becoming a fucking monster.

I tried not to spiral. So instead I made myself some tea and sat in the living room – breathing. I sent Drago upstairs once I was calm to talk to Piggy. I told her “Don’t try to convince her of anything, just ask how she is so she will know that someone cares.”

They both came down, hand in hand, 10 minutes later. Piggy was sweet and calm, apologized. I told her it is never ok for an adult to lose their shit and hit. And apologized. I told her I will keep working on doing better because I will never stop trying. Its the vow I gave each one of them when they were born – that I will NEVER stop fighting and getting better.

Then I started dismantling the stress. I want to write. I haven’t written in two days. Tuesday I went with Piggy to the bank and the doctor to pick up the disability papers for Piggy and Stallion and pay for them. Money sipping through my fingers from every damn corner. The taxi there and back, the fee to the doc.

Then I came back with her and because they had a non instructional day we stayed home. I could not write. Migraine. Migraine also ate yesterday.

I know it is not me. I know that by restarting my contraceptive pill only 27 days ago on a continues regime, my PCOS madness is what causes the migraines. I started spotting a few days ago again and so I know, I fucking know it’s the drop in progesterone. But what fucking good does it to understand why the monster within wakes while it chews on my brain, my patience and my kids?

But still I kind of held on. I think.

I finished preparing the disability papers for me, Piggy and Stallion. Made the copies, sealed the envelopes. Then took the kids to the dentist.

On the very way there, after Drago lost her bus pass and got freaked out and I literally felt how I am stopping her spiral with some tough love but spending my last chip of patience, I receive a call. The dentist’s receptionist calling and said – listen, your CDC plan, the one that pays for your kids dental appointment once a year, is not due till December for a new one. You sure you want to come today?

Of course I didn’t check it. Of course I fucking neglected to check it. Just like I keep barking and screaming at the kids and neglect to control myself. Just like I have neglected to do Wolfy’s nails for the past God knows how many weeks. Just like how I neglect every fucking thing.

So she says would you like to reschedule?

For once, I made the mature choice and instead of winging it and going with “It’s fine. I’ll pay now and think about it later” I say yes and she tells me she will reschedule. And I am listening to a book to calm my nerves, to go through the motions, to keep moving forward.

I drop the girls at school, release the big kids to their ways. Drago telling me that a creep offered her to go for drinks on the bus yesterday when she was with her friends and I feel another fucking pang because I should have had a car by now and take her properly to school. What kind of a person lives in this city without a car? I couldn’t even afford the e-bike I should have bought her. Now creeps approach her on the fucking buss. She’s 14 for fuck sake.

I took a moment, she told me what they did. They waited a stop to get off when he got up with them. Smart girl. I told her to stay together with the group and told her she did right. Obviously, my kids are quite amazing despite being raised by a fucked up excuse for a mom.

They keep telling me I am the best mom in the world because they don’t know what a mother actually should fucking look like and every time they do it’s like a damn branding iron searing with a steaming hiss right to my heart.

And then I walk home and the hospital calls. Tomorrow they want Piggy in the ER at 7:30 not 8:30. Because her surgery has been moved up. It is a good thing of course, but yet another adjustment and my nerves are so damn spent that I rush back to the audio book. I can’t wait for my own books to be on audio because the garbage I am listening to is so damn shallow.

So when I am looking for the new email of the hospital I suddenly see a different email. The dentist. They charged me 75$ for EACH one of the 5 appointments that we have cancelled.

And I just lost it.

I called them and asked what the hell is happening. She tried to explain the “logic” behind it. Telling me, “Well, we were talking about the CDC,” and my brain just gives. I told her it is fucked up on so many levels and as I realize I lost all reins on my tongue I tell her I will call them back.

But I don’t.

Instead I get inside the house and make some calls and texts, and on one hand I know that my mind is a hamster wheel and I should stop. On the other I am so fucking alone and I have no one so I rather have damn excuses just to hear someone. Anyone.

I call my ex. We go over the arrangements for the surgery for Piggy the next day and I ask about the winter gear that he said he would by for Drago and Stallion. I bought for the other two. He is in financial struggles too because he is not as creative with money as I am. And I get pissed.

I tell him, look, I have no money. I understand. Seriously. But the kids need fucking winter gear. And before I can stop myself I tell him about the dentist and the cancellation fee. “That’s… not nice” he says, a little shocked. And I know, I fucking know that I am acting insane. So I get off the phone quickly.

I text him later the truth: I am sure it can be cancelled, but it is just one more thing to care for now and I am so, so exhausted. He was nice. Which I never know if I will pay for later. I asked him to drop the documents at the post because I need to start rolling this ball and I am so damn behind.

And he agrees. And I burst in wails, bawl and cry like I have not cried in damn years.

I am not doing well. I am failing. And I have no one to blame but my own biology, but my own timelines, my own history. I just… maybe I should have done something different. Maybe I could have done something better. Did I really need to spend 50$ on Halloween candy for the kids? Did I really need to order in yesterday, twice, because I could not move from bed? Surely there was SOMETHING I could have cooked.

You have absolutely no idea how hard it is for me to keep remembering that hating myself does not help.

Not sure why you would still want to have it – but yours,
Oxy,
October 8, 2026.

Help me find him: Have you seen this man?