Fake It Til You Make It…Not working for me

For Mother’s Day, I got a tantrum from my kid who said, “I want to kill you!” Charming, no? All because I told her I didn’t have the money to take her out to lunch. It’s true. Child support means more cash, but that cash goes toward buying the food stamps we lost and her and her little friends are eating me out of house and home. Off to the races she went anyway. Making my day about her, as kids do.

Monday was a dark dark day. I could not function above the bare minimum. I had cramps, my panxiety was high, my energy was nil, my motivation belonged on a milk carton…I’d agreed to come to the shop after being guilt tripped about “help me and I’ll help with your car” except I seem to be helping a lot more than he is. So I did what I always do when I am in dark space and feeling fragile. I avoided his texts and calls. And lied about it after the fact. Of course, he guilt texted me until I finally replied and went off on me for flaking out, screwing up his plans, blah blah blah. I had an hour before spawn time so I went by and let him go run his precious errands and grab some lunch. Not even a pack of smokes for my trouble. He’s clueless how hard it is to function, even minimally, when every fiber of your being feels encased in the concrete that is depression. I should get an award just for managing to be guilted.

I did try to explain my plight, the trouble with the meds making me sick and not helping the depression (I typed derp-ression, that sounds more accurate) so some days I just CANNOT function at the level he demands. Which dissolved into a conversation that pretty much made it clear I am wrong about everything, just one more hysterical illogical woman who is simply lazy and weak and I am making his life miserable. This was followed by, “Just talk to me, don’t avoid me.” So yesterday I showed up at the shop, before ten a.m. as he demanded, and warned him I was in pain and did not feel like being pleasant.

Cue the big tiger rawr noise, as if I am being catty.

For fuck’s sake, you tell me to communicate so I do then you get snarky. What the actual fuck?

He demanded my presence again this morning, first thing, using the “it’s only two things I need done.”  I didn’t brush my hair, I wore the clothes I slept in, and I dragged my ass there. Only to see steam rising from the hood of my car. I ran it out of coolant. Which he started to berate me for and I reminded him, it’s kind of hard to know when  a car is overheating when the fucking temp gauge doesn’t bloody well function. He ceded, but grumbled that I had no anti freeze so he had to use his own. Never mind I was there, at that ungodly hour, for free. I earned that frigging anti freeze.

I had all these big ideas about coming home and getting all my housework caught up. Ha. Instead of I finished my Rookie Blue binge and watched Containment. Oh, and let the kittens wallow me. That may be the only bright spot seeping into my world lately. Kittens….better than heroin.

So I accomplished nothing. My yard is full of devil kids. I fixed my supper and it seemed good…But then it was like, did I really do all that work and dirty dishes for this? Which seems to be how every activity I do these days feels. Because…Derp-ression.

Tomorrow night is my kid’s school carnival. I am so jazzed. Not. I remember last year and how that small school and the crowds made me sweat bullets and feel like I was smothering. I managed it but it was not pleasant. I fake it for my kid.

I fake everything as of late. Smiles. Laughs. Functionality. Sociability. Fake a good mood. Fake humor. Fake that I want to be surrounded by screaming brats or hanging out with my family or friends. Fake fake fake.

I am faking it but not making it.

I think I see the shrink the last week of the month. I am going to make my displeasure known. If it gets me a non compliant mark, so fucking be it. His conservative approach is costing me time I am normally not depressed but he made radical changes in the anti depressant, assuming the dual mood stabilizer would pick up the slack. It’s done nothing but ensure my inability to cry or well, feel. Even my anger is dampened by lithium. Luckily, I have so much of it, I muddle through. But this constant down feeling, being unable to find positive things, the lack of energy, the way my housework has gotten so far away from me….This should not be happening. Spring is my time. Sadly, when he refused to replace the 120mg Cymbalta or raise the 20mg Prozac, I went down the rabbit hole and he just watched. Not wanting to upset “the balance”.

There need to be medications that simulate depression, bipolar swings, anxiety attacks. And every doctor should have to take them for a month before getting a degree. Until you live it, you’re operating off of textbook knowledge and what you’ve seen. Try FEELING it, LIVING it.

Try going through life wearing a mask to make everyone else at ease, all the while feeling like your skeleton is crawling out of your bones.

That is all. I’m gonna build myself a Z-whacker out of a pool noodle and go whack some noisy brats upside the melon.

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4 Responses to “Fake It Til You Make It…Not working for me”

  1. Sorry about the bull shit you’re going through. That you feel like a food baby {shit}. I feel ya, 92.43% the time I’m Smoke n Mirrors. Although this past 1 1/2 weeks (including today) I’m flying, buzzy, high. Tat n nose piercing although long time wanted, had big push from my mood. Saw Dr B Monday n we discussed possibility I may crash but I declined (he understands) temporarily tweaking my Rxs. Wants me to call asap if I start bottoming out because I told him I love this feeling. Brighter, buzzier,,,

  2. “Try going through life wearing a mask to make everyone else at ease, all the while feeling like your skeleton is crawling out of your bones.” Yes. Exactly. That’s how I feel.

  3. Faking it and not making it rings so true to me

  4. Yes yes yes I so completely understand this. 100% I get you. I’ve been thinkin over the last couple days about how to make someone actually feel how this depression feels. I’ve become almost incapable of being nice. I think you’ve inspired a post.

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