Got venom?

Quick recap: Monday I wanted everyone dead and feared going out. So I called maintenance to come look at my clogged drain to buy myself some time for a mood shift. Surprise, they never showed and my mood never did shift.

Tuesday: I forced myself out the door,leaving my number on the door so maintenance could just call when they deemed my problem important enough to bother with. I went to the shop and made it abundantly clear I was in no mood to deal. Not that R noticed or cared. So I spent my day in a homicidal anxiety state while he was happy and dancing about and …It’s sooo very hard not to be mean to people who see you are struggling yet almost mock you with their happiness. I know it’s not fair to think that way, but it is what it is.

I came home last night, my kid went to sleep, and I did too. I didn’t stay asleep, woke like four times and guilt tripped for being so utterly lazy and devoid of gumption but damn it, I was soo cold and soo tired.

Today…Well they fixed my drain and I am now rushing to get some clean clothes otherwise I am gonna have to go out pantsless. Which in 30 degree weather is not a good thing. The indecent exposure thing, eh, I could handle. But the cold…No, I am a wuss. I haven’t showered in like three days, which adds to my further self loathing. Yet I am writing this post rather than forcing my scuzzy ass into the shower. My functionality is seriously questionable right now.

I don’t feel quite as angry, but that’s subject to change. It seems the more stress and noise that is tossed my way, the worse it gets. Which is just a revisit to where I was in October 2010 when I didn’t have Xanax. People swear I am making it up but even The Donor saw the difference the Xanax made in me and he was totally anti xanax. I don’t know why it works the way it does for me, it just does. I don’t know why klonopin works so well for others but does nothing for me. Maybe I am an alien.

In other news…Following Nightshade having kittens, Belladonna followed suit and had four lovelies Sunday night, all of them healthy and lovely. I am six kittens richer. I should be freaking out but ya know what…Kittens make me happy so at least for six weeks until they are weaned and I have to find them homes…I have a built in anti depressant.

I really don’t want to go fake it all day. Because make no mistake, I AM faking it. My stupid brain keeps telling me it’s dangerous out there and everyone is out to get me. Not like to kill me, but to do me emotional harm. In four weeks, I have circled the fucking drain. I see the shrink next Wednesday but I’m not convinced she will listen to me. Apparently, xanax is like heroin and doctors frown upon it. Which pisses me off to no end because it discounts a medication that works wonders for some of us and we shouldn’t be penalized just because it happens to be addictive and a bunch of idiots abused it. I’ve been on this rant before, haven’t I?

Whatever.

The anxiety has begun. Which leads to the anger and paranoia. Which leads to screaming at random people and  hissing and spewing venom.

I wonder if I will ever stabilize enough to gain any quality of life. To think I could have another 30, 40 years of this existence…makes me want to drink bleach.

With a drano chaser.

Ray of fucking sunshine, ain’t I?

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