Otiose Ramblings From A Life Anhedoniac

Posted in anxiety, bipolar disorder, depression with tags , , , , , , on July 22, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

otiose-pointless
anhedoniac-one who does not receive pleasure from normally enjoyed things

My daughter was horrified when she looked over my shoulder and saw ‘word of the day’ in my email inbox. She asked why anyone would want to have that. As if learning new words is as horrific as a man wielding a chainsaw while demanding you eat brussel sprouts. Sadly. this is an attitude I have faced my whole life. Any attempt to better myself outside a formal classroom setting is viewed with distaste, horror, and of course, the inevitable accusation that I use big words to make those around me feel dumb. I learn new words because it interests me, aids in making my writing less repetetive, and learning isn’t contagious so they can piss off.

I was watching the show “Instinct” and the lead male character informed his female cop partner that she was a ‘music anhedoniac’ because music did not light up the pleasure centers in her brain therefore she did not receive pleasure from it.

That was when it hit me that I have become a life anhendoniac. Most likely the depression but also the sheer monotany of trying my best and always coming up short. Things that should make me feel good, should light up my brain’s pleasaure centers simply does not. It all feels like a big chore, a draining task that is joyless and misery inducing. Am I the walking posterchild for depression or what?

I woke at 1 a.m. For no good reason. I was still awake at 5:30 despite throwing Xanax, melatonin, Benadryl at it. My Brain would not slow down and shut up. I was screaming into my pillow at one point. Night after night this happens and by the time the alarm goes off, I feel like a walking dead girl. I stressed out all that time knowing I needed to recharge so I would have the energy to get my daughter to day camp…only she informed me her “Boyfriend” isn’t there on Mondays so she didn’t want to go today. Seriously? Last night she was set to go. GAH! Not that I got to sleep in even a little between her yakking and my cat bathing my face incessantly.

I was gonna mow the lawn today. I don’t have the energy and it’s still so wet from early morning rain, it’d just clog the damn mower. Oh, and we had that windstorm last week so before mowing, we have to gather up all the twigs and branches…And the yard is half a football field so doing it with a push mower by myself is exhausting. Last year I’d started doing it simply because my dad’s ‘help’ stressed me out so much. This year I am so overwhelmed and worn down, I accept the help even though it truly isn’t worth the mental price. I wish I had the money to pay someone else to do it but the standard for a yard this size is $50. I ain’t got that kind of money. Besides, my neighbor across the street hasn’t mowed either, so if they say something to me, they damn sure best be on her case, too.

I saw the weirdest commercial on TV plus. It had this GWAR looking dude warbling heavy metal satan channeling lyrics about the evils of ecigarettes. And I was offended and amused at the same time. (If you don’t know who GWAR is, Google it, they are scary hilarious.) So now cigarettes and ecigs and vaping are all evil, but almost every state is adding some legal use of pot on the books. I’ve never really considered weed a hardcore drug, but I have looked down on stoners because seeing them stoned and minus many iQ points depressed me. Now everyone down to pre school teachers are entitled to light a doobie, get wacky, and it’s all good, long as you don’t smoke cigarettes or use an vape.

HUH?

I can’t wait til 20 years from now when they discover that pot causes penile cancer or some shit. The self righteous have really crossed some lines.

I am all for occasional use if it’s your thing. I am definitely all for it for people with illnesses that truly are helped by it.

But GWAR-ing me as if a heavy metal backtrack is gonna make me abstain from tobacco or nicotine is HYSTERICAL.

All this pot legalization also opens my already confused mind to questions like, “does this mean all the people charged with minor pot possession charges get their records wiped?” “What if everyone is playing bumper cars cos they are stoned?” “What if an employer bans the use yet the law says it is legal>” Total fucking quagmires. (Oh, dear, there goes that word of the day knowledge, how dare I!) Though my very old chatroom nickname was Kwee Quagmire. Partially after Scully’s dog from X Files and partly because mental illness is the definition of a quagmire.

I have washed dishes, refilled ice cube trays and water dispensers, washed aload of clothes, taken out trash. Now I feel drained. I still need to hang dry the entire load of laundry. Broken dryers suck. But I don’t dare spend the money to fix it because every two weeks I am just waiting for the child support to not be there because the donor just disposes of girlfriends and jobs like Kleenex. And sometimes, I swear he does it just to fuck with me and hope I have some sort of psychotic break. Of course, that would be giving him too much credit. For all his “I have a 187′ IQ bullshit, I seriously doubt he’d have the brain power necessary to play any real mind games. Then again, I have underestimated his penchant to be cruel and immature and maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss his potential to play mind fuck games. Because in his head, it’s all about me getting his money, he doesn’t even think about his child. To say he has woman issues is underfuckingstatement of the year. I don’t think it’s mathmatically possible that every woman he has been involved with/related to has been some sort of soul sucking mentally abusive monster. The odds are just too astronimical.

My kid starts evening church camp this week. 6-8 p.m. My brother is going to take her. I still don’t understand why they’re okay with a 24 year old man hanging out with a bunch of kids. Kind of creepy pervy. I guess their thinking is he’s willing to help and mentally he’s about their age anyway.

The Focus Factor is NOT working, is it? I am all over the place here.

Well, you guys choose to read this, you get to walk away, so winner winner chicken dinner.

Except my chicken has salmonella.

Ray of fucking sunshine, ain’t I?

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Splintered

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , on July 21, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Psych professionals make mention frequently of compartmentalization. They, of course, utilize this concept in a healthy, proper way, as opposed to the compartmentalization, say, a sociopath would utilize. It’s sort of like this society driven division, not of personality, but of behaviors that are acceptable in certain situations. Of course, at work, you are going to be professional and work hard and whatever else your position requires of you. At church, you might genuinely believe or be a hypocrite and fake being pious and a believer. At a party, you might drink too much, or get too loud with the dirty jokes or bubbly personality. With your kids, you will be firm, loving, and consistent.

This is a healthy, normal thing, as long as it is all well balanced.

With the level of mental illness I am currently experiencing, it has ceased to be healthy compartmentalization and become a splintered psyche of insecurity, fear, paranoia, sadness, frustration, and a complete upheaval of every solid personality trait of positivity I’ve ever possessed.

I feel fractured on a daily basis. I never know if I am going to feel up and strong, or determined and energetic, or if I am going to be in that meek, terrified paranoid space where everything is perceived as threat and I can’t make sense of the alphabet even though I know it by heart but…I’m unable to organize my thoughts and recall it correctly.

This is compartementalization, exploded. I no longer have the luxury of solid little behavioral blocks, knowing how to behave in X situation versus Y situation. I no longer have the clarity to know right from wrong because it’s become so subjective, so fluid, and prey to my varying levels of mental illness. Parts of me have even started to reject traditional ideas 0of right and wrong, which isn’t exactly new for me, I’ve always rebelled against ‘the norm’ but I am in this place where “is it wrong to steal a loaf of bread” has become a confused multi part question of, “Is it to feed your kids? Because stealing is wrong but if you did it because your kid was starving, well, that’s different motivation than doing it for a thrill.” And I believe whole heartedly that like felony charges, intent should count toward misdemeanors. And it doesn’t matter if I am right or wrong or if polite society and the law agree, this is my mental space. I CANNOT DISCERN RIGHT FROM WRONG PROPERLY WITHOUT IT LEADING TO CONFUSION.

Killing someone? Wrong. But hey, were they trying to kill you first? Were you in fear for your life? Did they threaten you and you got tired of looking over your shoulder and just panicked to end the fear?

NO BLOODY CLARITY.

One day I am extroverted and make an effort to interact.

The next day I feel everyone is out to get me and like a threatened, cornered animal, I am on red alert, ready to slash out with words or claws or an inflatable orca.

And these mental states are so damn real, so convincing, that even when I am trying to convince myself it’s all irrational and distortion and mental illness…I’m not buying into the self pep talks anymore. I want to because deep down I know it’s logical. My current level of illness does not care about logic.

One thing I had going for me my whole life was that I could to an extent compartmentalize enough to ‘fake it’ for jobs, for social events, for family get togethers, for basic polite society.

Now I am so disturbed that it’s a perpetual struggle trying to put all the splintered pieces of myself back together enough to regain ‘me’.

I am not insane.

But I am battling a very severe bout with my disorders right now and my judgment is severely impaired, my logic MIA. Beyond the bare minimum to care for my child and keep the bills covered…I got nothing. No thoughts for the future, no hopes, no joy. Anhedonia has become the only constant in my life. That and paranoid paralyzing panic.

I feel like a shattered mirror and no super glue can put the shards back together to give anything but a splintered reflection.

May this be a temporary situation. If this is the new norm, I’m not gonna make it out alive.

Scary

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , on July 20, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

My brain has become a scary place for me. I just feel so low, so depressed, so utterly unhappy..But I can’t pinpoint anything truly making me feel so hopeless and dark. It is the very definition of clinical depression. That raise in Lamictal dose seems to have had the opposite effect and made me feel more depressed than I was.

Earlier, I was in such a dark place, I had this fucked up thought. If you were to ‘accidentally’ trip on some concrete steps and aim to land on your head hard enough, you’d never have to feel this way again.

This is NOT normal for me.

It is terrifying that it would even occur to me.

There is no intent, so not to worry. But the thoughts stirring in my mind are honestly scaring me. I honestly don’t know when my next pointless nurse appointment is, and it doesn’t matter because she has zero interest in helping me. Or that is how I perceive her ‘back to me’ detached manner with the only goal being having me on as few meds as possible. And THEIR policies are why I am taking two drugs for anxiety as opposed to the one that worked so damn well on its own.

I guess this could add to my depression but it’s more irritating, frustrating, and hopeless than it is depressing. I’ve pretty much had lackluster psych care my whole life. The good ones are very rare. Oh, the joy of rural life and being poor. Somehow this means I deserve subpar care from apathetic providers as opposed to someone with good insurance in an urban area who can get their dream doctor and make positive progress. I started going downhill during the raise in Abilify and the halving of Wellbutrin, all of which she did simultaneously, as well as increasing the Lamictal. Then the next appointment she refused to do more than one change and refused my input completely. She has played a part in making my summer very difficult and unhappy and there will be no consequences for her, those are all for me to pay for her ineptitude.

It would help if you could be honest with the providers without fear of being committed against your will or being deemed dangerous to your child just because your mind is in a scary dark place. I have no ill will toward my child. I feel I owe her an apology for being such a high strung depressed mess.

I keep telling myself I’ve been in this dark space many times, and the bad thoughts have occasionally wormed their way in. I just have to hold fast, stay strong, and not buy into the depressive distortions. This,too, shall pass. Just not fast enough to make me feel like I am not losing my mind.

At this point it’s such a useless cluttered dark place, I wonder if I’d be losing much of value.

But that is depression talking and I MUST REJECT whatever negative input it is giving me as best I can.

Which is easier said than done.

Especially now that I am in hormonal purgatory for two weeks and still pining for that dream work from home job since all my problems seem to be ‘out there;, trying to fit into a mold I simply do not. If I had physical disabilities, the world would be empathetic and break their backs to meet my abilities and not penalize me for my limitations. But nope, that’s not the way it is with mental illness. Sometimes even those who blog about mental health issues don’t come across as all that empathetic and supportive because they have stabilized and it’s sticking. Yet I remember these same people at their worst and remember how I extended myself to them even when I had little to give…The same is not being returned but by a couple of harcore supporters. I don’t know why I expected differently. Life is not fair, things are not always reciprocal, and while a large percentage of people with mental health diagnoses do have remission and reach stability…

I am not one of those lucky people and I guess people just get sick of hearing about it. For that I am truly sorry, I don’t like sounding like a broken record.

I don’t like living life like a broken record, but I don’t get the option of walking away because I am ‘too negative’.

I should be so lucky.

The Motherlode Of Problems

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , , on July 19, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

My daughter made a new male friend here in town, close to her age. He has some learning/developmental delays and does not have many friends. He isn’t entirely unpleasant. He is, however, spoiled rotten on a materialistic level, fussy, and demanding. Qualities that are a trigger for me. I let her go play at his house last night since his mom was nice enough to drop by and ask her over. When they returned her, however, there was talk of his birthday party-the same weekend we have planned Spook’s party. Then he really crossed a line with me and said, “What are you getting me? Is it electronics? Video games? It better not be books or something cheap.” And his mom just stood there, not saying a word, not even looking horrified. Spook tried to explain that we don’t have much money but for a kid with 3 ipads, a $100 Minecraft Fathead wall mural, a 50 inch TV, every gaming system, et al…Our money problems mean nothing to him. And I noted when Spook said her birthday was right around that time, he didn’t offer her any fancy gifts. And again, this seemingly relaxed nice well off mom just stood there, allowing him to be so demanding, rude, and disrespectful.

I am triggered. I spent 2 hours seething last night because I can’t compete with this family’s financial means. Nor will I compete with their materialistic ‘buy the kid all the stuff’ mentality. He got an Alexa, now my kid wants one. I am not keen on artificial intelligence invading my network, it’s too easily hacked, it stores too much personal info on the user, and she’s just not mature enough for this device. I pondered one for myself until I saw all the security risks, the danger of kids giving away too much info inadvertently and it being collected, and I was just like…NOPE. Now this kid has her wanting one and she’s manipulating me saying, “You say I ask too many questions, I could just ask Alexa.” Then she would give out her personal info, when we are home or gone, all the possessions we own, and it could lead to burglary and…

I sound like a nutter, don’t I? I guess when you’ve had one break in where TVs and computers were stolen, you become a little paranoid and wary. We never got our stuff back. The cops barely cared to take a report. It was 6 years ago and I still have issues trusting the house to be unlocked even with us here. In Podunk. I’d say the burglary burned new neural pathways for me and made me even more untrusting. But I hear horror stories about people posting or submitting too much info to these AI devices and it leads to bad things, so am I so wrong wanting to keep that out of our home and protect my child and peace of mind?

The scorching heat is not helping my mental state. I took one melatonin last night and after the stress of her ‘gimme gimme’ friend and her litany of all the expensive stuff he has so his parents must REALLY love him…I was tapped out and I slept, hard. With nightmares and anxiety cos this kid is always asking to come into our house but the first time I allowed him to, he did nothing but complain and touch my stuff without permission and he fussed and…ARGHHH. I know I can’t pick her friends for her, but damn it, do I have to tolerate someone who triggers the very mental disorders leading to all my distorted thoughts? Can’t I just hold him at bay until my mental state is better? And this is not just him, I’ve been weird about people being in the house for months now because they took my Xanax and my meds are so effed up. And if I say no, my kid will hate me, and she wants to know why I don’t like this kid, and I have tried to explain that he has no boundaries and all he does is make her feel bad for not having all the stuff he has…Which makes me feel like bad. And here I was thinking, wow, for a poor kid, this child has tablets, computers, smart TV’s, she’s not exactly living in deprived squalor.

It only takes one person to make you realize how subpar you are but I refuse to stoop to that level. No kid needs 3 ipads. No kid should EVER tell you what you better buy him and not buy him for his birthday. He may have issues but rudeness is a choice and that his mom was okay with it…I don’t see things improving.

In addition to this stress, one of the day camp counselors pulled me aside yesterday at pick up and told me how moody and easily upset Spook is and he wanted to know if there are things going on at home, et al. I told him we’re not sure if it’s hormonal or ADHD or mood disorder but she does have an appointment this month. Plus, moving to Armpit has been tough on her. And she does have mega issues getting along with more than one or two friends at a time, which is a battle I’ve faced myself. The minute I got her home, she calmed, she was happier. The counselor said she takes things so hard she acts like a 40 year old. I am constantly telling her she acts like a 2 year old because she has fits over food, over being told to brush her hair and teeth, over being told no, you can;t lay out in the middle of the road…

All of this on top of my own struggles with personal situational stress, mental health issues, money, et al.

I’m tough but all of it is wearing me down fast. And my support system is um…non existent. “Take a nerve pill.” “Get over it, you have a kid, you don’t get to be depressed.”

That I am not a serial killer is a fucking miracle. Life has pushed me to the breaking point and them some.

So while I know it does no good trying to get y’all to interact with me…Any advice? Anyone? (Crickets.) I could really use some encouragement and support and coping mechanisms. Because I know part of it isn’t this friend of hers, it’s my own inferiority complex. But how do I stick to my guns not wanting to spoil my ungrateful non chore doing kid just so she can keep up with the mini Joneses?

Help? Anyone?

WTF IS Going On With My Brain?

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , on July 18, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I am ‘on a clock’ today because I’ve been enlisted to take my brother to work around 1:30. I already took my into town to camp. Once I drop him off, I will have two hours to kill before fetching her, then I am on standby in case stepmonster isn’t done with work and can’t get to town to get him…It’s very stressful for me, living in this sort of limbo. 2 hours in town with nothing to do in 90 degree heat does not enthuse me, but I am being compensated with gas money so I suppose I can’t bitch. Except I will, because anything that feeds the anxiety is unwelcome.

Problem is, everything feeds the anxiety lately. It’s this constant presence like a toxic black cloud and I can’t explain it. I think my sudden low mood that remains static can be explained to an extent as hormonal dysphoria. But the anxiety? No fucking idea. Every little thing makes it worse. We had a bad windy thunderstorm last night and that set me on edge. Normally I freaking love storms. WHY is my brain processing every little thing as some sort of fight or flight threat? I am accustomed to living with free floating generalized anxiety, but this near panic every waking moment is new. Of course, I can pinpoint when it started but why beat that dead horse and prove their point on the issue of benzos. Nothing I say is going to change this regime’s mind and those are the worst people, the ones who cannot be reasoned with or swayed by intelligent discussion.

That in itself is stressful.

I just can’t reconcile this fight or flight constant mental space. It gets worse by the way instead of lessening.

Maybe once the routine returns to some semblance of calm (ie, no double daily trips to town), I will calm down. But that’s weeks away and I am losing my mind here. Like, drink a fifth of booze to shut down the threat thoughts. Except I am not even good at self medication. I have half a bottle of whiskey that has been in the cabinet for weeks, it just tastes too bad, even with cola. Used to be one of my favorite mixes. I guess this lack of self medication is progress but it doesn’t stop the desire to do it. Living in perpetual fight or flight mode is terrifying. Knowing you’re unlikely to get any relief any time soon is hellish. Don’t need a doctor to sign off on buying booze. Except the taste has become icky and the end result-while quashing anxiety, it brings on worse depression- is undesirable.

I have no answers at this time. I just know I am altered for whatever reasons and it makes daily functioning very difficult. No wonder all I look forward to is sleep. It’s the only time I don’t feel like a cornered animal under threat and attack.

Quicksand Treadmill

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , on July 17, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I don’t know how to better explain my current mental state. I am definitely not experiencing any shifts in mood, so maybe the increase in Lamictal has been a bad thing. Because being low is not a good place to occupy constantly. I am on the treadmill, I am moving, my body feels like each part weighs a thousand pounds, and I am surrounded by quicksand. The harder I try to ‘push past’ it, the deeper in I dig myself.

There is this constant platitude that “only you can save yourself.”

I don’t know which way to go here. So I remain stuck in place, unable to help myself because I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO. I try to get out of the quicksand and it sucks me down deeper. I keep moving on the treadmill, I just exhaust myself, get no exercise value, and I feel sore and defeated.

There’s another platitude, “It’s okay to ask for help.”

Which is it? Only I can help me? Or should I ask for help? Who should I ask for help since no one around me considers depression and anxiety to be real? Including my so called psych professional?

And because I am so far under the surface here, the depression and mistrust that comes with social anxiety, I don’t trust anyone enough to even reach out and say, “It really is this bad, even if it looks like I am functioning.”

I am doing the bare minimum most days to ensure I have the strength for the days when I am pushed to the breaking point. With the end of camp, my kid’s birthday spectacle mom and sis will inevitably throw, getting school clothes and supplies, getting her registered and started…I am going to need every ounce of strength for August alone.

At which point is it okay for me to say, hey, I am not doing so hot, so maybe I don’t bust my ass trying to find a job I am clearly not prepared and stable enough to do more than a couple of weeks? We’re not starving. I need the time to just zone out and fight this battle, even if at the end of the day my only true happiness is in interrupted dream plagued sleep.

I just keep repeating in my mind what my best counselor told me all those years ago. “Set one goal and accept that you feel depressed.”

Of course this was pre cognitive bullshit therapy and mindfulness and ‘behavioral’ health. Now if you accept how you feel, you’re somehow responsible for aiding the depression.

It honestly makes my head hurt. I’ve been battling a headache since 11 p.m. last night and Tylenol ain’t making a dent. It’s stress related, stress induced.

I need to give myself permission to just breathe. I didn’t take her to camp today and it’s just a quiet day at home. Except the laundry is piling up, the lawn needs mowed, and we’re in for a 6 day stretch of temps in the 90’s which even with AC pushes me to my limit mentally. So draining. A bored child doesn’t help. I want to be a great mom, I want to make her laugh, make her happy, keep her entertained.

Right now, just outsourcing it is sucking the life out of me. Guilt weighs a ton. Depression weighs ten tons. It’s crushing me, giving me stomach aches.

When it begins to manifest physically, it truly is time to step back, breathe, and focus on one goal and just practice acceptance of how I am feeling.

We’re not starving, the bills are paid, we are sheltered and clothed and reasonably cool…There is no reason for me to be panicking on this level.

Except that I am pushing myself in a direction that is guaranteed self defeat and I am no longer doing it for me, I am doing it to make others like and respect me. Which if it requires me to hold a job even though disabled for you to like and respect me, I am not sure I really care to be in your company.

It’d be one thing if I were out partying and having a good time and feeling good. But I am none of those things. Just taking my kid to a carnival was a misery I had to force every step of the way and it turned out to be a misery because of her behavior so it was all for nothing except to make me feel like a failure more than I already do.

It is okay to breathe.
Right?
Never mind, I probably won’t like the answer so I will just go with the old counselor’s sound advice. It has served me well over the years and kept the self destructive demons at bay. It is definitely time to tune out the peanut gallery. When I am well, I will get a job and I will work my butt off.

That time is just not now. Anyone who thinks it is the right time is a delusional twonk. Egad, I was going to go with a swear word there but censored myself. Why? Because I don’t want to upset anyone with unnecessary swearing.

WHO IS THIS HUSK OF COWERING SPINELESSNESS AND WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO REBELLIOUS BADASS ME?????

Oh, right. Mental illness. That thing no one believes is real.

Keep feeding my misanthropy, idgets. Then going, why does she hate everyone so much?

I am just giving what I get.

Lead me to a supportive tribe filled with acceptance and love and I will be there with bells on. Okay, not bells, probably a devil horn headband and knife earrings, but…yeah, I wanna be loved. I guess.

I don’t know. Depression makes you fucking stupid. Otherwise, I’d know what to do to help myself, right?

Gahhhhhh!

Just Another Day In Bad Mental Space

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , on July 16, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

It does not feel like I am ever going to ‘get out’ of this current mind space. It’s just a dimmed place where the negative stuff is magnified and what little good stuff needs to be put under a microscope. I don’t like this. I have tried to ‘bring myself out’ of it in various ways. Eat some fruit, get some exercise, do something different than your routine…Nothing is working. Which just feeds the feelings of self loathing and self hatred and defeat.

I did manage to bathe today. First time in 5 days. I was gonna do it Sunday but settled for a simple hair wash instead then felt guilty for that.

I fetched my kid from day camp and she started in on me in an instant. She was hungry, their food was bad, she was starving and needed to be taken out to eat RIGHT NOW and she had a headache and the kids are mean and…

She has not shown an iota of appreciation for the lengths I have gone to to ensure her a decent summer. The sacrifices I have made to buy gas to get her there and back. The anxiety it brings because I live in terror of the car breaking down. None of it means anything to her. She just expects it. I look back and think, wow, me and my sister were like this, too, must be a kid thing.

Except this isn’t, this is a metastatic spoiling of a child from outside influences so I can’t discipline or deny her things and teach her a damn bit of gratitude or respect or obedience. I knew letting my mother into her life was gonna be a huge mistake. My mom, who was more fellow kid than an adult to me and my sis and our friends. To this day all she cares about is spending the most and saying yes the most and being liked the most. And I am reaping what she has sewn in the form of an entitled kid with no gratitude.

I can’t wait for school to start, regain some semblance of routine. At least then I know THEY are responsible for her safe transportation and I can CHOOSE whether to go to town or if I can afford the gas. I thought doing this summer camp thing would somehow bring us closer and she’d see how much I am willing to give up to make her happy but if anything, she is less grateful than ever. And before any well meaning person points out she’s a child and this is normal…it is NOT normal to this extent.She thinks everything is disposable. Break it, so and so will buy another one for you. Make mom cry, oh, well, make her feel bad for crying in front of you. Apologize for things that aren’t your fault, then completely blow off apologies when you know you’ve done wrong.

Wow, I sound like a bit of a monster but damn, I have sweat blood and tears for this kid and not so much as a thank you, just give me more, more, more, and oh it’s not good enough and this is wrong and that is wrong…

No, love, try living in a mind where even when NOTHING is wrong you still feel utterly sad and hopeless. THAT IS WRONG.

And I don’t see any change coming soon since I can’t get away from the psych nurse from hell. Guess I should have just been blatantly non compliant and refused to see her again but then, that would put me on the every 4 month list and…I can’t live in this mental space 4 more months. Something’s gotta give.

Do you know how truly torturesome it is to try and find out WHAT is so terrible that you’d feel this bad yet come up with NOTHING to explain it? Well, chances are, if you’re reading this blog, you’ve dealt with the lack of logic of depression so most of you probably do know.

I’m not taking her to day camp tomorrow or Thursday, her karma for acting like a whiny spoiled brat. Maybe by Friday she will have gained some appreciation and I will be in a different mind space. At least one where I can find a reason to keep living because today…I got nothing.