Shame And Mental Health Disorders

FYI, yesterday’s rant was about social media whoring but aside from, ha ha, making me look like a social media horror (and failing to draw any attention to the topic), it was actually pretty coherent (for me) and a decent read if you want a point of view that’s not brainwashed by people as brands.

Today’s rant is going to be a grab bag of this n that. Which is kind of how I view my own mental chaos in writing this blog. You know it’s 99.8% going to be on mental health issues but whether you will relate to whatever ones are being railed against is…iffy. Personally as a kid, I LOVED grab bags at stores and flea markets because sure, I could get a trial size tube of toothpaste and floss and a comb…OR a I could get some out of package eye shadow, glittery nail polish, and some funky sunglasses. You just never knew and that was part of the thrill. In my older age with a child who loves these ‘blind bag’ toys of Shopkins, My Little Pony, Pikmi Pops, et al…I’m a little wary of shelling out $4 for a toy she might already have on the slim chance it will be one she doesn’t already have. Adulthood definitely robs you of your childlike excitement for surprise, if you know, you have to pinch pennies out of your pennies.

Fortunately, this blog is free so even if the post is a grab bag full of foul tasting dental hygiene products, you didn’t pay for it and you don’t have to take it home. (But hey, our fundraiser page is still open and I owe my dad for my car’s brake job and we have sick kittens so if my ranting resonates, feel free to say so with a fiver or whatever.) Still, what you take away from my writing is indeed a grab bag, not always gonna be great for everyone, but there’s always the CHANCE it could be awesome so it’s a little exciting, right? Meh.

So, depression and shame. Yeah. We had a week of temps in the 90’s with high humidity-the kind where even cat hair in the air sticks to your damp skin- and of bloody course, our window unit AC DIED. Even with fans and open windows the daily temp inside was in the 90’s, the cats even wanted out to catch a breeze. And when it’s that miserable and the weight and moisture weigh me down, I’m more useless than my norm. So laundry piled up, the dishes piled up, there were two days it was so hot I felt too sick to eat more than a couple of potato chips, just refilling ice cube trays and choking down my meds were a chore. I tried to pep talk myself, bully myself, but when the air is so thick you bead up with sweat sitting in front of a fan…hard to get motivated. So I let it all go and focused only on what was necessary. Kid getting fed and to school, trying to keep the cats fed and cooled and of course, attempting to save these kittens the mama cat ditched. It’s not looking good, in spite of all my efforts but I’ve got to fight for them best I can cos, well, it’s who I am.

I was on high anxiety mode during that scorching miserable week, worried people might drop by and see the biohazard (at least the cat boxes were scooped) and that causes shame. Unfortunately, shame doesn’t help with depression. It doesn’t mean you don’t feel it. I mean, geesh, that kitchen was smelling pretty gross with the sink filled with skanky week old dirty dishes and I was pretty mortified by that but I can’t say it’s never happened before. Prior to having a kid, it was actually my norm. And I was kind of renowed for throwing out dirty dishes rather than washing them, pre-Spook days, cos hey, second hand dishes are pretty cheap at thrift stores…This time a few things sat so long they either rusted (love my dollar store stuff) or couldn’t come uncaked even with scalding hot water soak and scrubbing so I just pitched those…And felt ashamed but after a week and it finally cooled down, I was just giddy to be up and doing laundry and washing that mountain of dishes. It’s just a dent in what needs to be done but for me, it was a molehill-mountain that I scaled successfully and I felt proud of myself. Pride is a much better feeling than shame.

Shame is a big part of mental health disorders, though. I’ve heard it more than once from others when I’ve gone down the rabbit hole. “Have you no shame? Look at this place, look at yourself, when was the last time you bathed?” Instead of shaming me into action it just added to my desire to keep people out of my safe space. Of course, I have shame and I feel it deeply. I want desperately to do better for my kid, for my, for the cats. I fret constantly that even when I consider the place ‘immaculate-ish’ some judgey clean freak will spy it and decide I am unfit to raise my kid. And that’s a crock of shit, considering how many parents buy their kids everything, keep an immaculate house, yet still deny them food or beat them. Sorry if clean freakiness isn’t high on my priority list when I am just trying to stay afloat. And also…fuck the domestic goddess bit. I tried faking it and fact is…I’m a slob. I keep the trash taken out and the cat boxes cleaned but if I drop an ice cube on the floor I don’t even bother to pick it up half the time. When it melts, it will clean a patch of tile, yay. I don’t take shame in being the anti domestic goddess.

I do take shame in my mental issues causing it to mount up and make me feel so…buried alive.

Onto my next topic…

Since the psych pros can’t agree on my diagnoses and have me ten kinds of confused…I’ve been poking through the internet (and I know not everything is true, I don’t buy that Trump once said the word ‘monkey’ thus he is a raving racist, my god, even democrats can do better than that smear campaign)…I find one of my biggest problems throughout my life has been anxiety and complete inability to focus and prevent my mind from spinning and wandering. Or I will become so engrossed in something I seem to leave the real world aside from feeding the living critters here. It’s like my brain is too damned full and most of it is meaningless pop trivia (I remembered the words to “Love Shack”, for fuck’s sake, and I can’t stand that song or band!) Yet I can’t quite remember what day I bathed this week, I forgot to mow 1/4 of my lawn, I am constantly starting things and not finishing them not because I lack follow through but I get distracted and my mind…moves on. It’s a carousel on warp speed than rarely slows down, especially at night when it’s time to sleep. From everything I’ve read, both firsthand accounts and the literature…I have so many hallmarks of adult ADHD, it’s like a blind man could see it.

95% of my psych care, however, has centered around professionals insisting this is secondary to the anxiety and depression. I buy that to an extent, but I also did their stupid borderline personality disorder test and while I have a trait or two here and there, it’s not consistent behavior, the mood stabilizers have changed my behavior completely, my thinking has evolved…I simply don’t agree that is my big issue. My opinion means shit with professionals but I stand by it, right or wrong. I live with me, I know all 45 years of my history and I don’t need to check a chart and read the notes of ten other people over 20 years who spent an hour total with me and labeled me. I had attention issues or absorption issues even as a kid. It seemed like some anti social loner thing but it was just too damn difficult for me to maintain focus on group activities and even school. Wandering mind syndrome and traffic jam of the brain are real things.

Problem is, on the rare, rare occasion I find a doctor willing to treat the ADHD, insurance won’t cover the medication and I can’t pay out of pocket even for the generic version…It helps so much, brings so much clarity to my life and I finish things without starting and stopping and I can write on topic and hold coherent conversations, read a book, focus on playtime with my kid. And insurance companies who won’t cover ADHD meds just because I am an adult, well, they’re full of shit and they are evil. EEEVIL, I say. This medication could drastically improve my quality of life and to be told nope, we won’t pay and you can’t, sucks to be you…Maddening. My reality.

Okay, this wasn’t supposed to be a long rant. I am half tempted to try getting whatever passes for Focalin through some foreign pharmacy, this lack of focus is mucking up my life so much. My luck though they’d cut it with something toxic and I’d end up in a persistive vegetate state which while similar to my current state, I do prefer to be able to go pee for myself and ya know, not get turned like an egg to avoid bedsores. I’m a snob that way.

So I shall bring this to a halt and hope a couple of people liked today’s grab bag. Since my meds are sucking out my creativity and I have zero inspiration to write fiction, this blog venting is my only outlet for my need to write. So yeah, a couple of likes remind me to just keep venting, quality writing or not. It’s a purge that is necessary for me to not Z Whack random people who cut me off in traffic or whatever is pissing me off that day.

For those who finished reading this…spork of fortitude for you. You’re very patient and dedicated. And have a better attention span and ability to follow a single thought at a time.

I envy you.

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2 Responses to “Shame And Mental Health Disorders”

  1. Oh, and neurofeedback and EMDR are showing some effectiveness in ADHD alongside treatment resistant depression and anxiety. My clinic accepts Medicaid and offers it. That might be another outside the box option if by chance your public clinic offers it.

    • I will look into those options. First I have to get a doc/psych nurse that doesn’t leave the psych center after a few months. Can’t make long term plans when I’m in doc limbo, which seems to be the norm with that place. I am thankful to have any form of insurance but man, cost cutter plans that don’t cover half of what might work is pretty frustrating.

      On Fri, Sep 7, 2018 at 12:52 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

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