Mixed, Shaken, Stirred, Blurred

I’m at that bizarre stage in the seasonal disorder, where my energy seems to be going up (I’m waking at 5,6 a.m. for no reason)…I feel a little hypomanic. But, weird as it sounds, I am still depressed. And there’s no reason to be, just the usual stressers of daily life. So where is this darkness coming from? And why am I having such mixed episodes yet cycling in and out of them so fast?
Everything is topsy turvy. Maybe because we didn’t really have the harsh winter weather until late January so my disorder is delayed.
I’m lost in all honesty.
And baffled by the skyrocketing anxiety. I’ve been getting hit with random panic attacks. Yesterday, I stopped by the shop with a pizza, just doing the “get out, fresh air, it’ll cheer you up” thing (LIES)..And just sitting there with R, eating pizza…Next thing I know, no trigger, I am bent over, hyperventilating, trying to focus on the breathing tricks.
I’m accustomed to triggered panic attacks. This from out of nowhere thing…This is new territory for me. Because the Xanax may not take the edge of the anxiety so much, but it has been wondermous at holding the panic attacks at bay.

Whereas the other day I was a basketcase of nerves…Yesterday…I was a basketcase and I only took a single 0.5 mg dose of Xanax. I am trying to tough it out. Much like pain killer, I just don’t take pills if I can ride it out. And honestly, the panxiety is what has been pushing me over the edge lately. Anxiety, panic, and paranoia all in one…Not even a xanax the size of a hubcap can put a dent in that.

I was watching (not by choice, but second hand) a stand up comedian. Normally I find this guy hysterical. But then he starts in on what qualifies as a legit disability and basically excludes illness of my type…
It made me feel so low, had I been a snake, I’d have had to look up to see the gutter.
And ok, maybe it’s my issue.
But people don’t help. I think being functional 25 percent of every year is a disability.
And don’t think it doesn’t offend me and make me feel like shit that there are people in wheelchairs who manage to work and I can’t even manage it. It makes me feel…Well, it’s gotten to the point where I’ve started looking into doing some sort of internet porn chat job or something. I bet when manic, I’d be fabulous. But during the months long depressions…It’s like everything else. Manic, awesome. But I get about three months a year of that. Four if the stars align and the meds all work right.
I am so terrified of not being able to support my kid because some red tape monger doesn’t think 75% non functionality means you’re good.
Literally…paralyzed and petrified.
And maybe that’s the anxiety and paranoia not giving the review committee enough credit, I don’t know. Fear and a messed up mind mess a person up.

I feel useless. Oh, wow, I got out of bed and got my kid to school on time. I’m living dead girl here. And not the cool kind like the Rob Zombie song.
But as long as I keep the zombie shambling thing going…
Ugh. Life is exhausting.
Actually, my own mind is exhausting.
Mixed, shaken, stirred, and blurred.


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