My Brain Is Just WRONG…Sometimes

I am trapped in mental inertia hell. I can barely muster the energy to wash my kid’s Shopkins dress which is what she wants to wear for picture day tomorrow. Let alone get to the dab of dishes in the sink or baskets of clean laundry that need folded or the cat boxes or floors. I swear I am not lazy. Well, not that lazy. And I am not a complete slob, though that really is subjective to the standards of others and many people are anal retentive clean freak snobs.

Point being…I just can’t make my “get up and go” work no matter how much I want to or how hard I try. I walk in the other room, saying, I will do this…Or that. And then I start feeling so overwhelmed and I don’t know where to start and it turns into a vicious cycle of self loathing and so I retreat to fort blankie and watching Murder In The First. (Which, for the record, is a really well written and well acted drama.)

My scumbag brain taunts me. Tells me I am useless. I have nothing to offer to society, I am a drain on limited resources. It’s not right and it’s not entirely wrong. Every cent I receive in disability or whatever goes right back into the economy, so to speak, inasmuch as paying rent, power, buying food, household supplies. I use a five dollar flip phone and buy time in 30 minutes increments. I am not living high on the hog in any way, shape or form. So while the brain and society at large may consider me useless…

I am still here, fighting my disorders, caring for my child and cats, and TRYING with everything I’ve got. That has to count for something as there are people with far better means than mine who can’t even pay support on their kids or spend time with them once a week. I am here for my kid 24-7. I muddle through for her even when I can barely get myself into a shower. Hardly useless as I am making sure she is cared for, educated, socialized, I encourage her to read, have trained her to always say thank you and tell me where she is playing at all times. I am a good parent. Not perfect and sure, our home is often a disorganized sty pigs might reject cos I have a cobweb in a corner or six, maybe you can’t eat off the floor (who the hell would even want to eat off even a clean floor???).

So why does scumbag brain bust my balls so relentlessly and cruelly all the time?

Because it’s usually wrong, a distortion of depression, bipolar, anxiety.

For all the times it is right…It is also wrong. I’m a human being with value. I have to remember that. I could be doing all this battle to raise a child who could become integral to the betterment of society. That’s hardly useless, right?

But then scumbag brain (and a multitude of ignorant people spewing such shit) reminds me, oooh, you squeezed a baby out of your vagina, big deal, everyone else does that, too, doesn’t make them special or useful.

My brain robs me of joy, self esteem, self validation. And I am at least wise enough to know that DEPRESSION LIES. ANXIETY LIES.

And then on occasion…the brain sees the truth or possibilities of what could happen. Like this morning I read a blog concerning money matters that could impact me and our financial situation and it sent me into a panic. What soul crushing powers-that-be letter am I about to get in the mail?

And then the brain reminds me…It’s probably about time for another one of those “jump thru the hoops” disability reviews and since at my last appointment two months ago, the doctor found me calmer than usual and I told him the Pristiq seemed to be doing something better…Well, he will probably not back my claim. All cured even as I go back down the rabbit hole.

Has anything like this happened as of yet? No. But the fear is there and it’s very real and now I am like paralyzed in spite of a double dose of Xanax.

For all the spewing of how easy people on disability and assistance are “getting a free ride”…

There is nothing free about living in terror day to day that your ability to get by might be yanked out from under you. No, you want so desperately to be in control, to have a job you do well and know you can keep and thus not fear losing everything.

The cost of being disabled is higher than any money value. Higher than anyone can imagine.

How can you comprehend the value of self esteem, self sufficiency, and not living in fear every single day until you have been there?

Sometimes my brain is just WRONG.

Sometimes, it is dead on.

But since mental health issues don’t send a memo ahead of time letting you know what is symptom, what is logic, and what is overreaction…

You can’t trust your own mind. And that in itself has a price tag so high not even a sheik could cover it.


4 Responses to “My Brain Is Just WRONG…Sometimes”

  1. I have to say that for all the lies your brain tells you, I am going to tell you one very basic truth. You are everything to that child. I know that there are issues, but you do everything in your power, and more, to make sure that she has what she needs, learns what she needs to learn, has food to eat, clothes to wear and friends to play with. You show up at the school for parent/teacher conferences even though your panxiety begs you not to go. You brave Walmart for clothes. You brave Aldi for food. And you stay alive. Which is of course the most crucial thing.

    So the floor isn’t as clean as it could be. Whatever.

    You take care of Spook, you take care of your kitties and you fight that stupid bipolar brain we share to do it all.

    You’re a fucking warrior Morgue.

  2. I so agree with you. I am on disability and have been treated like scum from none other than family members. I get a measly $16 a month in food stamps and at my granddaughters birthday party the topic came up in a negative light. When the kids asked what that meant there was a hush in the crowd like oh know we can’t say in front me. In fact someone said awkward moment, my sons wife had evidently told them I was on it. I felt humiliated and so unworthy to even be at the party. It is so much harder to live on disability compared to when I could work. But it is as though people resent even the little bit we get. Some people just have no compassion. I’m sorry things are tough on you as well, I know you do the best you can and you know what that is good enough sweetie.

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