Tapped out

I can’t say it was a bad day, nothing too cataclysmic happened.

But it was a very high strain high drain day.

I started out semi panic.

Then it became manic panic.

Just seemed like too many people making demands of me. I only have so much to give and I feel like I have been bankrupted today.

R is teaching me electronics stuff, meanwhile I have to answer the phone and fill out tickets, then his family members are coming to ask me to burn them discs, while my phone is blowing up and Kenny is asking me to put his laundry into the dryer there at the shop since he didn’t have time…My brain came very close to shorting out. I wanted to yank out clumps of hair. I do not process things the same way as others, it would seem, and rather than have grace under pressure…I melt down and freak out.

THEN I survive the day, thinking I will have a peaceful evening at home…Ha ha ha, my kid is acting out from the word go, my mom jumps my case with some snarky comment about my parenting skill, I come home, then R stops by, and wants to teach me about diodes, meanwhile my kid is screaming because she isn’t the center of attention and a cat is climbing on my back and both my phones are ringing…

If I’d had a noose, I’d have hung myself to escape it all. I cannot handle that much activity at once without paying a severe price.

And the price is, I am so shaky mentally right now, I have nothing left to give to anyone, least of all myself. I am tapped out. Empty. Overdrawn. And the prospect of having to go do it all again tomorrow, while my psyche and the facade of  “Ms Calm,Cool, and Collected” crumble, is just too much for me to deal with right now. I wanted to chill out, play some word games, write, maybe put up my Xmas tree…

Now I just…my brain is on overdrive, and feels like it just might short out.

I’m sure R would expect me to rewire it myself and explain how to do it. I don’t learn fast and I am easily confused and all this pressure is not helping, but he won’t listen. Hell, no one listens to me. It’s always “Oh, you’re just lazy, you let yourself off the hook with this mental shit.”

Which is bullshit.

When a person has the presence of mind and courage to admit their limitations and say “I need a break”, they should not be chastised and shamed. Every time I let others convince me that I “can do this” juggling act, I end up going off the deep end.

Yet it’s rinse, lather, repeat.Rise above it, do better, you can do this, quit making excuses, buck up…

Blah blah blah blah.

I have nothing left to give to myself now, as I gave all I had to everyone and everything else today.

I’d say I look forward to sleep, but the world might get an idea it’s something I enjoy and take that away from me, too.

Yes, I am a babbling idiot right now. My brain is fried.

Yet, I will wind myself up and do it all again tomorrow.

And no matter how hard I try, it will be like every other time before. I WILL hit a breaking point.

And sometimes, especially here lately, I think back to the peace of the psych ward…and a small part of me wants to go back there to be sheltered from all of this pressure and chaos. Be surrounded by people who get it.

Of course, I am a huge control freak and psychopathically independent so that’s not an optimal solution.

I just remember when I had my reaction to Nardil and they stuck me in the psych ward…No pressure. Just…existing. Walls between me and the outside world which seems to break me down every time.

I hate feeling this way, so weak, so pathetic…Yet I know my boundaries, and this has crossed them and smashed them to bits.

R wants to know why I can’t rise above it and be an overachieving workaholic/superparent/best friend/mechanic/church lector/spouse/indian chief. like him.

Maybe because I never was and never will be.

I am what I am.

The only person that ever seems to be enough for is me.

And my opinion seems to be the only one that doesn’t count.

 

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5 Responses to “Tapped out”

  1. This really resonates with me today. I’m tempted to give advice only to have a facepalm moment that I should shut up and take it myself. If I stop for a second an remember that every time I’ve felt completely depleted and thought I couldn’t move a step further – somehow I did. Somehow I kept moving and I’m still here. I’ll get through today – probably tomorrow too. But it’s probably gonna suck.

    • I used to think that way, that I’d be able to do the rinse lather repeat thing to infinity. I have watched too many people-people stronger than me, with way more to live for and lesser disorders-succumb. I know that it is possible, no matter how hard you try. I guess thinking it could happen is my dysfunctional way of “being aware” in hopes of warding the actual happening off.
      But yeah…I will likely be here tomorrow to do it all again and it will likely suck. That’s why they make vodka. Oh, did I say that aloud? Bad me.

  2. I often think back to the psych ward. And how all we were expected to do was get out of bed, go to meals, and not get violent. It was easier there. Safer there. I felt like the people who are out to get me, couldn’t reach me there. It was a place for me to detox from painkillers (well, THAT didn’t last…..) and a place for me to get some rest.

    But, at the same time I remember how I frightened other patients, this one woman who had ECT who saw my cuts on my arms and was afraid of me. How some others just avoided me. How one asked me if I was a nurse. How after coming back from a day trip, a nurse thought I was a visitor not a patient. How I felt so different from them. How a nurse who was my age, helped me realise that the Institutionalized Life was not for me.
    And how I got out.

    But then somedays I think how much easier it was there. And how much harder it is here.

    • My “back to the rubber ramada” thoughts usually come after a very harrowing day and are no more serious than my moods where I am so angry I want to throttle someone. It’s just a passing thing, remembering the calm and lack of pressure. But given the control freak I have become, it would not work well for me. In fact, the last time my shrink mentioned “hospital” I went into full indignant “I am just fine” mode. I don’t know. My brain is stupid.

      • The last time I was in a hospital that was not a pre-arranged appointment, was because I gave myself a concussion against my bathroom cabinet.

        I have to go to the hospital every Thursday for Hydrotherapy. It’s the hospital I spent much of 2010 in, both for myself and stupid things I did, and for friends of mine and stupid things they did. It’s also the hospital that my sister spent time in getting her wisdom teeth out and getting very sick in the process of. It’s a place I hate going, and a place that holds many bad memories. But it’s somewhere I keep having to go if I want a chance of making my life bearable. And it kills me a bit inside each time I go.

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