Jitterybug

I got roped into taking my brother to work at 1:30 today. Now I am panicked and filled with dread and I’m not even sure why. Why does my sanity swing low on days I need to be semi-functional? Is my brain sabotaging me? Maybe it’s because the car’s front tires are dry rotted and I am terrified they are gonna blow every time I make a trip to town. Maybe it’s because I was just in town yesterday. Perhaps it’s due to the upcoming meet with my kid and her donor. I hate feeling this jittery, it is unsettling one so many ways.

I am also concerned about the power bill. If the local agency can’t help…we will have no access to heat or electricity so no cooking, no hot water to bathe in or power to run the washer and dryer…If I’d been able to raise $190 by the 3rd of this month, I could have gotten a deferment (again) but since that didn’t happen, now I am on the hook for the full amount cos my old deferments were canceled out for partial payment. I TRIED meeting the minimum. I honestly thought my dad would help me buy the sticker for my car and with insurance and tires so I could get out from under the power bill. He helped last year and we had slightly more income then. He and stepmonster just got back big tax refunds so…

I should not have banked on their help, my bad. Just like not banking on child support. Which is one more reason I am still furious with the former landlord for selling the place out from under us. I could manage there since trash and water were included in the rent. Here, just having water and sewer service runs $65 a month, not one penny less. If you go over your allotted two thousand gallons for the month, it jacks it up like $3 for every gallon over. And in town I could put $20 in gas in the car and run the entire month. Now it’s twice that and that’s if I stay home 80% of the time and only go out of Armpit when necessary.

I suppose I have plenty to be jittery about. A quick trip to town should not be such a big deal. It wasn’t til they cut my Xanax. Now I am so overwhelmed and panicked each trip feels like punishment. Last year, every chance to get out of this town was a welcome respite. I am at the end of my rope, it is fraying, and I keep frantically tying those frayed strands into knots and holding on for dear life…

I’m just scared of failing Spook. And a mom who can’t keep the heat and power turned on surely is failing the child.

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Still an hour to go before I need to take my brother into town. Anxiety continues to mount. It manifests as a stomach ache and itchiness of my skin. I get this way with anything looming ahead of me that I can’t just ‘get over with’ ASAP. Jobs, errands, school events, social events. There is little that does not heighten my anxiety and set off panic attacks. I try to combat it with breathing exercises and the mantras learned in therapy.
Scumbag brain is non-responsive and continues to stampede and riot. I’m so rattled I forgot what it was I even needed in town that I forgot yesterday. Guess it’s not crucial or I’d remember it. That isn’t always the case, though. Depressive clouds can obscure even very important things you need to remember. Anxiety on top of that leading to sheer panic means attention to detail and memory are hindered.
And while I know I don’t have any other options than to find work…every time I fill out an application or speak to someone and tell them my disability won’t impact my ability to function in job capacity…I feel like a big lying fraud. And I really resent being placed in the position of having to become a fraud when what would do me more good than all else would be a few weeks with the bills paid to lower my stress, thus enabling me to get rejuvenating rest, and ease me into therapy and finding a new med combo because Lexapro ain’t helping at all. I’m not stable, I am not feeling well. And above all else people value honesty and yet I am forced to fake it for survival and should I have a breakdown…I will be exposed as a lying fraud who is still very much disabled and borderline mid nervous breakdown.
To value honesty so much allegedly, society really doesn’t want you to be honest if it isn’t what they want to hear and it makes you seem unstable. Fake it til you make it, like a narcissistic sociopath is not a good message and yet…it’s coming in loud and clear. Which was why I wanted work from home type employment. In my safe space, I am ten times more functional and able to cope than if I am out there out of my safe space being placed under pressure, scrutiny, and exposure to people which is one of my biggest panic triggers.
Trying my best, though. Even if it isn’t lifting my self esteem and is actually making me feel like a big phony thus the self loathing metastasizes.
———————
Anxious Distortions…

I swear I keep hearing the text alert song on my phone. I check the screen, nothing. Yet my brain keeps making me think I am hearing it. It’s not like when a song gets stuck in your mind in a loop. This is like, literally hearing it out loud. Lots of ambient noice from lawmowers and weed whackers to strong winds, meowing kittens, windows rattling in the frames….And it still doesn’t drown out what I hear in my head and believe to be real.
It is freaking me out. I’ve never ‘heard voices’ as in non existent voices. So his audiological distortion is quite unsettling.
20 minutes til I pick my brother up, then 40 minutes to get into and get right back to safe space.
Stepmonster called me earlier to remind me about giving him a ride and commented on how tired I sound. Well, you live with bated breath 24-7, get little quality rest, and deal with your brain sending you constant wrong information and wrong signals. It is exhausting, I am tired, and what is worse is…I don’t have the option to just drop out for a day or two. Applications to fill out, resume to be submitted over and over.
I am so sick of typing my own name I could barf. My inner bitch wants to write Mickey Mouse in the name section just to break the monotany. No, I don’t need anyone to tell me not to do it because it’s silly and sarcastic. It’s just one of those odd brain quirks that at least give me a smirk.
——
Survived the harrowing trip to town. Gut is in a pretzel. Very uncomfortable. That and I am cold but sweaty, that is pure nerves. Today my tone deaf brother kept seranading me with Weird Al songs. Irksome but at least we have something in common to talk about. When he starts in on his misogynist rants about women being too fat or not pretty or large chested enough…That is when I really go all feminist, as well as civilized human being, and remind him he ain’t no prize to look at and treating women like maids and sex slaves is disrespectful. My dad has taught him not to care about treating women with respect, though.
—–
And if you miss it earlier…I offer up proof that I am trying to find work, my power is about to be disconnected, and all I am asking for is some kindness and generosity. 20 people donating $5 each is a wonderful start. I just can’t see setting up a fundraiser with so little interest, even if you can only share it.

https://morgueticiasmentalhealthmausoleum.wordpress.com/2019/04/11/motionless-in-fright/

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