Deja Mental Voodoo

I definitely have a feeling I have been here before. Because I have so many bloody times. Almost two years of high functionality, enough to appear well to everyone…And from out of nowhere, the slip and slide starts..and before I know it, down the rabbit hole. Meanwhile everyone around me is standing around with their judgments and declaring me lazy or unmotivated or not interested in helping myself.

For fuck’s sake if I could help myself, I’d never experience a depression again. It’s called an illness for a reason.

I am so tired of the pressure to perform, to be what they want me to be when it has nothing to do with who I am. It’s started another war again because I shut down and of course certain people think they are far too important to be blown off for something as silly as me facedown in the mental gutter. People who think this is a choice.

Ass trash.

I forced myself to go to Wal-Mart today. First time in three months. I didn’t factor in the holiday thing. It was packed and I began to freak out. My heart was ricocheting off the walls of my chest. I became hostile and agitated and my kid of course chooses that time to act out..And I see all these happy people buyingg all these christmas gifts and they are so calm and cheerful and patient with their kids…

And I felt about the size of a flea.

Came straight home.

Things get much better when I am in safe space, at least anxiety wise.

The depression is still there.Fuck the holidays. (Hellidays, as I call them.) Fuck everything. I see no light at the end of the tunnel, no hope, everything sucks and it is too hard and pointless and…

Of course now I’m going to psychoanalyze myself over my own feelings and slap some happy little personality disorder label on it because no one cuts me any slack therefore I can’t cut myself any.

I curse the day that ANY of this mental stuff was introduced to my consciousness. I’d have been perfectly happy to go through life assuming I was just a weirdo. Weirdos get more consideration than the mentally ill.

Right now, it’s just a black abyss of hate and sad and depressed.

But the voodoo is that in a few months, like magic, it will all lift and I will once again be a totally different person, this shell of negativity and misery forgotten for a few months.

I will however have burned so many bridges by then it won’t matter. Yet if these people calling themselves friends and family would BACK OFF for awhile and let me do the struggling thing that is called depression, then when I emerge all could just move on as usual.

Yet that is not allowed, they dictate that my functionality must be consistent, must be up to their level, must be must be must be. MUST MUST MUST!

There have been certain points as of late when I have pondered whether signing into the mental ward might be a viable option.I am floundering her and I have no help, no support, and I am trying so goddamn hard and yet surrounded by those who say I am making no effort…If it weren’t for my kid I probably would have already done the hospital bit. But my devotion to her and my cats is pretty motivating…I don’t get why it can’t motivate past the depression but then, it never could. I would go two weeks without a shower, wear dirty clothes, live on nothing but chips, but my cat never went hungry and always had a clean box.

I excel at taking care of everyone but myself.

My current ocd thought is the whole borderline personality disorder versus bipolar disorder thing. I hate that counselor for putting it into my head after I had already discussed it with two doctors and another counselor and been assured I was pure bipolar. That little twit tells me I meet all the criterion and now every single thought I have, every action, EVERYTHING comes back to “did i get the wrong diagnosis again?” I mean, what if the meds never work long because the problem is just that I suck?

Speaking of her, I haven’t opened any of the mail the counseling place has sent because well, the mail thing makes me panic. I avoid. Not healthy or mature, but it is what it is. I wonder if she’s reporting me as uncooperative therefore I can’t truly be ill.  But between the borderline thing and then her sending messages to me via my family because she counsels my brother…there’s no way in hell I am going to cooperate. I like to keep my mental health issues separate from my family and I can’t very well do that if she sees my brother and tells him and my stepmom to relay a message to me. Technically it violates my confidentiality rights even if we all knew about it.

It’s like, can one more thing go wrong to make 2013 suck even more?

And that concludes the bitch and moan portion of the afternoon.

At least the part any of you lot have to be subjected to :p

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