Pretzels

My day is just starting and I already have a case of rapid onset pretzel gut. No trigger, just life. I’m usually pretty unsettled when faced with a new routine and my kid being at a bigger school is definitely a new, and daunting, routine. All those people picking up their kids and all those bright colors like a rainbow regurgitated and out came Elsa and Anna on the backpack of every XX being. Noise, parental throngs, every pair of eyes feeling like laser beams piercing my very soul even though I logically know I am less than important enough to be stared at. Of course, I’ve always thought this and yet somehow some idget has found me worthy of glaring at or harassing. That’s statement of fact, not paranoia or some mommy related post traumatic stress thing.

Throw in all the other shit I am dealing with, I have pretzel gut, pretzel mind. It’s all twisted and contorting and hellish.

Sleep was as usual, disturbed. Even with Melatonin. Now that is suckage when not even medications designed to keep you asleep can get the job done. It was my mommy clock cos my kid would wake up so often. Now it’s just become the norm, even when she doesn’t wake up (rarely) or isn’t here. I’m assuming I will reset to a new norm once the seasons change. Maybe the depression comes, but also comes the calm. Cold weather keeps people inside, off their skateboards and bicycles, mutes loud voices, soothes my sensitivity to stimuli. Life is a trade off, ya know? It HAS to attest to how bad the summer makes my anxiety if I welcome winter depression just to get a break from it. (Meanwhile, I feel bad for those who are dreading the end of summer even though I find it a relief.)

9:34 a.m.

Had to take the spawn to school. Almost made her late ‘cos I had to turn around and come put trash out since I knew I’d be going directly to the shop so R could go get his glasses fixed. Then I took a wrong turn (lived here over 20 years,ffs) and had to go the long way around when I intended a shortcut. The traffic was just making my blood boil under my skin. Used to only driving in heavy traffic or large unfamiliar places set off the anxiety. Now it’s simply daily outings. Talk about metastasizing. I did my shop time, didn’t even get smokes for my trouble. Whatever. I’m out of there for the day. I need the time to myself, even if that’s selfish. My stomach is a burning twisting mess of a pretzel gone mad. Pure anxiety. And aside from life in general, no trigger. It just is. I blow sunshine up my own skirt when in the dish: “Breathe. Be calm. Think logically…Why does this make you so nervous?”

Seriously, I can’t even be anxious without psycho analyzing myself IN TRAFFIC. Thank you,mental health professionals. That’s not self awareness or trying to help myself, that’s brainwashing. Not to mention dangerous ‘cos I could crash the car while off in therapy land trying to fix myself. What’s that? Oh, right, choose a later time when out of traffic to ponder things. I WISH I COULD BUT THE BRAINWASHING IS SO THOROUGH I CAN’T SHUT IT OFF NO MATTER HOW BAD I WANT TO.

True to being my own moronic self, I checked out Reddit today. Some sage Redditor posted a link describing the difference between bipolar one and bipolar two then made the summation, “Bipolar two has ONLY hypomanic episodes which do not impair social ability or job capacity.”

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK? You can research all you want, look at the statistics, and be an arrogant ass but DO NOT PRESUME to understand when mental illness is or isn’t a negative impact of functionality. And don’t even talk to me about manic versus hypomanic. I know every extreme and it all fucks with my life in every way. GRR. I should take this shit with a grain of salt but seriously. If you’re gonna play expert, gain some knowledge other than Wikimedinutsykoo.com.

I should be doing stuff. Dishes. Mow the lawn. Blah. I worked my butt off all weekend, I did deviation and dish time yesterday and this morning…I am taking a break, to hell with all the analysis that says by taking a break I am “enabling” myself to avoid taxing things.

The sad thing is, I can analyze myself better than any counselor. I can trace back pretty much every traumatic episode that created a lot of my personality dysfunction, even some of the anxiety and phobia.

It doesn’t, however, change the bipolar or the crippling impact of said anxiety. It doesn’t help cure the depression to come to the realization, “It mainly hits during fall and winter which is due to the lack of sunshine.” Couldn’t be that it’s cold and nasty and I am always shivering and uncomfortable. Nope. Gotta be lack of light, even though light gives me headaches from hell.

See, I’ve identified the big issue and explained the problem. Is it gone? Nope. Do I await the depression with open arms and have my self surgically attached to a “sun lamp”? Nope. It’s all so much bullshit and yet it’s been as ingrained in me as the bullies at school ingraining me with their repetition of, “You’re the weird girl, you’re a freak.” Which ends up being a personality disorder because the doctors believe that I think I’m special by being an outcast.

There are times I’d rather trade in the psychobabble for a drug or alcohol problem. The world is kinder to that sort of thing. You spend your entire life trying to get better only to be told no matter how much you’ve worked and progressed, you’ve still got all this other stuff wrong with you. Or you get a new counselor who decides after two sessions to change the diagnosis you’ve had for twenty years so you feel like what’s the damned point if I fixed that stuff, not she’s telling me I have all this other shit to fix. Is therapy helpful if it just confuses you and further drags you down?

Yes, I am harping on this a lot, I need to let it go. I wish I could. It’s insidious, a worm rooting its way into your brain and planted little teeth and not letting go. I get that I am damaged and broken. I am also chemically imbalanced and no amount of therapy is going to change that. It can teach me denial, aka positive thinking, but hell, prisoners of war can be brainwashed into thinking, “It was a good day ‘cos I only got my nails ripped out with by pliers on one hand instead of both.”

Some stuff just sucks. Period.

That being said…A funny Diane sent me and I literally did laugh out loud. It’s so me.

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2 Responses to “Pretzels”

  1. I have had a couple of sessions with my therapist that consisted primarily of me yelling at her that I really don’t understand the fucking point. I’ve been tested, and the testing says I’m too fucked up to get better. I’ve done therapy for 20 years and I’m getting worse. I change meds more often then I shower. What’s the fucking point! And I don’t know. But if you figure it out please clue me in.

  2. I’m one of the ones who dreads winter. The cold just slays me. Of course, cold here is about 40 degrees and we get sun in winter, so I may just have to say it’ll be okay. I prefer cold sunny to hot rainy. I HATE THE RAIN. HATE. And it’s going to rain all week and weekend. Ugh.

    I closed down Tumblr after finding a post of someone with bipolar disorder (of our variety) who was arguing a psych student shooting down ALL her symptoms, invalidating her struggles — so triggered I was that I felt physically ill in my inner volcano fire and acid rage. I had to drag myself away from the computer, took two Xanax, and punched my pillow until it was as flat as a sticker. The idiots on the net are too many and not enough viruses to destroy their devices. Sadly.

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