misfiring chemicals

Yeah. I was okay earlier. Shocked by Becca’s productivity, she even got my kid up, fed and dressed, so I could have a few extra mins sleep. And my first instinct is, yeah, what’s up with that? What do you want? I am so charming. (not) I’m grateful.
I went to the shop. I was feeling okay. Low anxiety, low worry, mood level.

Around hour four…
Itching ear…someone’s talking about me. Itching nose…someone’s going to call with something bad to tell me. I’m itching…Oh, no, nervous hives. Racing thoughts. Paranoia. Anxiety to the nth. My gut is telling me bad things are coming. Well, worse things than the INS knocking down my door and arresting me for harboring an illegal. (And damn it, as stressful as it is, I am not throwing a human being out into the damn street to save my own ass, she’s got her own family to throw her under the bus.)

I guess I was out of my safe zone too long. That’s generally when the real anxiety induced crazy comes crashing through the door and starts kicking me in the skull. It sucks worse than a root canal without novacaine. It sucks worse than being attacked by bees, locusts, and vultures simultaneously.

I have a shrink appointment tomorrow. I never did get the EKG for the assessment of my health to go on focalin. I’m sure she will see this as a sign that it’s not important since I did have two months to get it done. Of course, if she understood anxiety disorder at all, she’d get that 1, I don’t do hospitals or doctors unless DYING, and 2, I have had so much on my mental plate, it honestly just kept slipping my mind. At this point, being able to afford focalin is a pipe dream anyway. School starts and any dimes I might have floating around will undoubtedly be going toward pictures, supplies, clothes, et al. Oh well. Being broke has been my life since birth. Guess it’s in the genes. My dad is pushing 70 and still works five days a week, his woman works (I think) and they’re hardly wealthy. R calls their house a “shack”.

I keep this sign on my wall to remind myself how good I really have it, especially when I feel deprived, or others pity me for where I live, or because I don’t have this or that…
If you have food in your fridge, clothes on your back, a roof over your head, ans a place to sleep…you have more than 75% of the world.
It makes you think, if you really open your mind to the ugliness that exists in the world. There are far worse things than not having a smart phone or a new car or not being able to eat in restaurants. The key is not to focus on what you don’t have but to embrace and show gratitude for that which you do have. The people around me really don’t get that. They don’t get how I can be content in my current situation. It’s not that I don’t want more or better. It’s just not within my grasp at this time so I accept what is and make the best of it.
You’d think this was a crime judging from those around me tsk-tsking about us living in a trailer court. Yeah, well, beats a cardboard box. Boxes have no wifi or indoor plumbing, ffs. I am spoiled that way.

I’m starting to feel a bit less crazy and hopped up on nerves. Courtesy of a xanax. I try to take as little as possible but there are days when it’s just not optional if I want to avoid clawing my own eyeballs out with a metal spork to escape all the swirling paranoid insane thoughts.

I don’t want to go to the doctor tomorrow.It’s always so depressing. Even if she’s not the worst doc I’ve had, she’s just so goddamn chipper and optimistic and…I feel like she’s judging me if I don’t declare a sparkling recovery of sunshine and puppies and rainbows. It’s so much ass trash. I’m on the fence about mentioning the hypomanic bouts. I’m not sure if the lamictal is losing effectiveness or if it’s just situational because my anxiety skyrockets every summer to mammoth proportions. Plus, when I tell her a med isn’t working, she launches into it being my personality disorders. All the while smiling sweetly and saying, “It just takes time to find the right combination, we can keep working on it.” Which is it, lady? Meds or I’m just a shitty person? Or is it both? Pick a diagnosis and lecture and commit already.

Yeah, the shark week snarkishness is in overdrive.

I did tell R that he’s a good friend and I am grateful today. I wanted to let him know Bex and I appreciate him buying that train ticket to at least get her out of Chicago and back here safely. He didn’t have to do it. But he’s like that with everyone so it’s less about us and more about, that’s just who he is. Decent human being, if a little self absorbed and flighty. I just wish he could see his own hypocrisy, that’s my biggest issue. He gets pissed, like a child, if I don’t answer his calls or return his texts in ten seconds but if I contact him, he’ll take his time getting back or completely blow it off. And frankly, the “I forgot” and “I didn’t hear my phone” excuses are hollow after the first hundred times.
Ahhh…There I go, giving a compliment and following it up with complaints. I am my mother’s daughter. Except my mom bypasses positive input all together and goes right for the throat.
Oh, well. Who we want to be and who we are tend to be very different things. All we can do is try to do better, and be a better version of ourselves.

I hugged the pit viper (my mom) today. She responded by going tense and sort of pushing me away with a shoulder. Warm and fuzzy she is not, except to my kid. C’est la vie. If she’s got early Alzheimer’s and is indeed losing her faculties, the least I can do is rise above the pettier issues and be a loving supportive daughter. I can always get an antivenin for the snake bites.

People think I am joking. I wish to fuck I were. She’s really gone psycho hose beast and while not entirely her fault (if the story my sister told is indeed true) she’s always been on the hypercritical side where I am concerned. She wanted a dependent needy child and got me instead. I think I am her anathema. She loves me but doesn’t like me. I relate because it is reciprocal.

I will shut up now, that was quite a rant and I didn’t intend for it to be. Whiskey night tonight. I’d say we’ve earned it and besides, it didn’t come out of our budget. R is a great enabler since he drinks 7 nights a week. It’s good to have friends with a coping problem like your own. They’re sooo supportive.


One Response to “misfiring chemicals”

  1. imptiness Says:

    I have that hugging defect too. It’s just in the make up dude. I am also grateful to all those that made an effort in getting back to a safe place, more than you’ll ever know. I have finally found my true family.

    INS can just suck it .. Cause this alien is slipping through the colander holes.

    So wrong, I am, I know.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: