Same Shit, Different Day

My mind is racing like a roller coaster going off the tracks today. But I had 2 days of relative peace without my dad’s faction coming around and now that has been broken. I try not to get bent, I try to hard, but invasion of my safe space and noise are just triggers that throw my equilirium so far off kilter it takes awhile to recover. Who wouldn’t want to maintain their equilibrium as much as possible if having it thrown off results in paranoia, anxiety, fear, and a recovery period? And since we moved to Armpit down the street from dad’s faction, I don’t get much break from my brother’s constant intrusions. Dad and stepmonster tend to leave me be, but my brother won’t back off. I went off on him this morning in a huge way because he just came in and plopped, taking my kid’s tablet to use like he owns the place.

Then of course, I felt shitty for tearing into him. I’m just so disturbed by an entitled 23 year old with the mentality of a 10 year old. I don’t think him hanging with an 8 year old constantly, niece or not, is normal or healthy. What really sent me over the edge on him aside from him plopping with her tablet was an incident Thursday. She was trying to move a weighted base fan into the living room and asked him for help and he said, “No, I’m busy, I’m watching pretty girls on TV.” He was watching a cartoon on PBS geared toward 4th graders and they were CARTOON CHILDREN, not sexy anime girls. But like a lump he sat there while my kid struggled with the fan, begging for his help. So I helped her and made disgusted sounds aimed at him. Then I told him he couldn’t come around 7 days a week, we need a break, and he started with his mom’s “I’m sawwy” baby talk which creeps me out. Especially because he’s not sorry at all. He’s entitled and he needs to check that fucking privilege at my door because I don’t baby my 8 year old as much as they baby him.

Today they took her to their house and they are going to teach her how to mow. My clumsy 8 year old near power mowers that can shred flesh. I should have said absolutely not. Then my brother said, “I mowed when I was 8.” Yeah well, my dad drove a semi when he was 6, I don’t subscribe to their 1950’s child slave labor mentality. But Spook wanted to do it so…Pick my battles. Knowing her aversion to chores…I give it maybe a half hour before she’s bored, bored, bored. They’re supposed to mow my lawn later. I wish I could shake off my fear of power mowers, I really do. I never realized how much certain things can impact us when we witness them at a young age but seeing my mom cut her leg open on a mower really fucked me up. I can use the old reel push mowers fine, but this yard is so thick and enormous, it’s just not feasible. I hate being hindered by my fear, I know I need to nut up and get over it. Bullying just doesn’t work for me. I have to be in the proper mental space for certain things.

And if that shrink had increased my Cymbalta, I think I might be in the appropriate mind space. But I am on week 7 at the same dose and it’s stalling. I don’t even want to hit yard sales and housework feels like climbing a damn mountain. I am irritable, my memory is swiss cheese, the paranoia strikes at random moments, and I can’t stand social interaction beyond 20 minute jaunts. I even had to basically turn my phone alerts down to barely audible because the sound-of songs I love, even- was triggering major anxiety and paranoia. I don’t even get that many calls or texts and it was still too much for me. I understand Dr. H’s reasoning, I am very sensitive to medication, and a higher dose could worsen the anxiety, but now that I am doing singular antidepressant therapy as opposed to dual…low dose ain’t cutting it. And because of their staffing issues, I am going into 4 weeks without them calling to tell me who I’ve been assigned to and when I can get in next. IF they even remember me, the place has become such a joke. Shit insurance and a rural area do not lend to adequate mental health care.

Further adding to my stress was a legal letter from the circuit clerk about appearing in court next month regarding the legalities of having a child with someone. And my heart started beating so fast when I opened it, I almost passed out. It was all I could do to keep my cool but I had to, my kid was with me, so I played it nonchalant as if I’d expected it. But I wasn’t expecting it because the lawyer my uncle hired TWO YEARS AGO never replied to my calls or emails or even sent a bill. And last I knew the donor was whining-to my dad, no less- that even with a job promotion he could barely make ends meet. So wtf is going on? I have no idea. Guess I will just show up that day, pray my anxiety doesn’t make me throw up or run doubled over to the bathroom, and the sight of the donor doesn’t send me into a rage.

I don’t understand why it puts me into ‘smack a bitch’ mode. I certainly have zero warm fuzzy feelings for him. I am glad he left, though I think the way he did it all sneaky and underhanded was a pussified cowardly move. My outrage is how he abandoned Spook and even the one time we talked he offered to help “But I have bills too” and I said fine, buy her some Pull ups, you can just leave them in my car..and he didn’t even deem her worth $8. He realy hates me more than he loves his own flesh and blood, and I can’t fathom a planet where that shouldn’t incense me. She’s just a kid, we were the ones who fucked up. Well, mainly I did, because my first impression of him as an elitist snob was pretty much dead on. Shows what happens when you ignore your gut. But then,I wouldn’t have Spook so I guess good things can come out of idiotic choices.

God, I am so rattled I feel like my skeleton is crawling out of my skin. I can’t even get interested in TV shows as a distraction. Round and round the hamsters go on their wheel in my brain and I can’t slow them down. Same shit, different day, if I am forced to interact with others. As stressful as my kid can be, she belongs in my safe space, it’s her home, we are family. But the other interlopers, I avoid them for a damn good reason. I am sure they are decent people but until I can get my mind straightened out, they’re just big biohazards that are poisoning me and I try to convince myself otherwise but…scumbag brain is having none of it.

I wish more than anything I could just ‘get over it.’ I am so tired of the same shit, different day, when it comes to my mental states. Tired of talking and venting, tired of living it, tired of the high point of my day being bedtime. Because now even with 9mg melatonin, it is still taking me 3 hours to get to sleep and I am still waking up 3, 4 times a night.

Okay, rant over. I took my meds without food and now I am dizzy and nauseous. Hey, docs, ever occur to you side effects are one reason people dont want to take meds? This nausea lottery on a daily basis SUCKS. But hey, it’s not the doctor’s lives so why should they care.

Except I thought the whole point of being a doctor was because you care about people. I am pretty fucking naive even at 45 and cynical as I can be. I still want to believe the best in people.

One more thing I guess I need to ‘get over’.


One Response to “Same Shit, Different Day”

  1. Old post here, I’m going through my inbox. I hate days where its just same shit, diff day, ug horrible, I am having severe sleep issues, so I can relate to yours in this post too. xx

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