Weekend mental puree

(This was written in increments over the last two days, sorry if it’s disjointed but I think doing it this way makes me stay more on point.)

So… a friend sends a text asking if I can get a sitter so they can come over for a bit later and catch up, watch a movie. In my never ending quest to “better myself” by following the advice of professionals rather than deferring to my own self knowledge…
I reply, cool, when. So it’s set for three and I have my kid at my mom’s house and rather than thinking, oooh, this is gonna be fun me time being a normal person interacting with another person…
My anxiety has skyrocketed to the point of stomach issues and crawling itchy skin.
I am just that ill at ease around people. Though it’s much worse when I am in the depressive phase. People actually like manic episodes. Depression…Most people find it too oppressive to endure or get mad when their efforts to cheer you up fail.
It’s too much pressure and stress.
I despise it.
Because even at my best, while it’s not this bad, it’s still there and it still makes life a living hell.
I went so far as undergoing hypnosis to “fix” this anxiety thing, since the consensus seems to be it’s just a personality type as opposed to a genuine problem. (Bullshit.)
I have a serious case of pretzel gut. Everything is twisted and churning and knotted. This is the less sexy aspect of anxiety, when it ceases to be a matter of deep breathing and self pep talks “I will not die, this is just a panic attack”…One cannot ignore the sudden urgent need for a bathroom, repeatedly. It’s humiliating. It’s one thing to have an actual medical condition that causes such issues. But to undergo all the embarrassing tests and scans and exams I did over the years only to be told I am making myself sick with my own anxiety…
And this is for something GOOD.
Half hour before social time.
Rather than dying down, the anxiety has risen. The thing about anxiety and panic are, they don’t care about logic. You can self pep talk til kingdom come and it doesn’t dull it a bit most times. I am a big self bully, I like kicking myself in the ass and telling myself to suck it up. So to try so hard and not be able to kick anxiety’s ass…It’s humiliating.

I had this epiphany when I was driving home from dropping Spook off at mom’s. I wanted to stop somewhere and instead, almost as if hypnotized, I went right past the turn and kept on the route we take from school to home every day. I think sometimes life is but a waking sleepwalk for me. I do what is mental muscle memory as far as routine. It’s automated, like breathing.
So this notion that going through the motions makes one high functioning is a crock.
I guess since every other aspect of my brain is off the rails, that lizard part makes sure I at least maintain the basics. Though that too hinges on my mood cycle. Mania makes you so high functioning, you’re ten feet tall and bulletproof and could sprout wings and fly if you wanted. (In your own mind.)
Depression saps you of every ounce of energy, motivation, and clarity so even zombie esque shambling is suspect.

Ever get stranded somewhere (in our case, major snow and bad roads) and find yourself so ill at ease at another’s home, you can barely sleep?
It was a friend’s place, we’ve stayed there before, but for some reason…I felt like I was stranded at sea. I was up every ten minutes because they keep the place silent as a tomb and I am so used to falling asleep to rain sounds or TV shows. Every step I took made the floor creak, and I got nervous about waking my friend. I was sharing an unfamiliar bed with my kid who at one point got so twisted her foot landed in my mouth. Literally. My stomach was in knots. My anxiety was off the charts. The silence was the worst part. Oh I have come to crave soft background noise, it seems to ease the noise in my head with the racing thoughts.
Silence…leaves me and my mental noise alone together. Ugh.
In spite of four inches of snow, we were up and back home by 8 a.m. I trudged through the snow, scooped the car out, and once ensconced in my safe bubble again…
Order was restored. As much order as can be established with my screwed up mind.

On a weird but possibly cool note…I ran into a guy I used to work with, haven’t seen him in 14 years. He accosted me in a parking lot and hugged me, remembered my name. I remembered him. He has pretty eyes, I always remember the eyes. That and we used to talk heavy metal on our smoke breaks. He’s like ten years younger than me, but he was always so cool to me, I thought he was a nice kid. (Did I mention the pretty eyes?)
Anyway, he told me has a daughter who’s a year older than mine, indicated he was single and interested in me, and maybe we should arrange a playdate for our kids. I gave him my number, not really expecting follow through. He wanted a ride and well, I’m not evil enough to make anyone (aside from the donor) walk home in deep blowing snow.
But when we got back this morning, there was an unfamiliar number on my caller ID. I actually blew it off, trashed it. Then went back and listened to it. He actually called to give me his number.
Yeah, I’m not sure what to do with that.
I always did like him, though. I struggled with that job a lot and he was always willing to help me out, even if I just needed to walk away for a minute to sort my head out.
I remember kind acts like that.
So who knows.
If nothing else., my kid gets a new playmate and I get a friend to talk metal and chainsmoke with.
Provided I can keep the crazy hidden.
With the current depression and anxiety and the whole nil desire to socialize…
It doesn’t look good.
But at least I am trying.

Today…I am doing fuck all but housework. Brain reboot. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks, so maybe I will finally drain out completely and recuperate with much needed rest. In my own bed, in my cold trailer, but able to breathe an with my beloved background noise.
And yes, I am aware how bizarre this all makes me seem.
Back in the day it was called eccentricty.
Now it’s called being mental.
Odd that.
I think my quirks are my best qualities.
I can do without the mental imbalances though.
Who knows….maybe I will bundle us up and go outside, let her build a snowman.
Or a snow penis, as my nephew and his friends made. They live by a school and a church. I guess complaints were immediate.
Funny as hell.
Somehow I wonder if they had been snow breasts if that would have been less offensive. Society has a bug up its ass about showing a penis on tv and such. But tits…are everywhere.

I wish I had artistic ability.
I’d totally build a snow Dalek.
Ice -Terminate.

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