Stop, drop, and panic

My kid has a ‘stop and drop’ for school tonight to take her school supplies and meet her new teacher. I do not want to go. The parking lot will be a madhouse, all those people. All the grades are basically in the same building and teenagers creep me out. (Yeah, yeah, bullying doesn’t hurt anyone, you get over it…NOT, still hate those mean monstrosities because I know the cruelty and torture they can be capable of and it DOES scar some of us for life.) It’s only an hour, which means everyone, their kids, and probably their livestock will be there. Last year I convinced Spook to let me request a day dropoff so I could avoid the panic involved. This year, she wants to go.

Which means I am going to need a bath since I mowed 3/4 of the yard and am all grungy and sweaty. Picking out clean clothes, wearing undergarments, trying to get past the panic and paranoia, not get in a car wreck cos of traffic, and oh, plastering on the smile so I appear perfectly normal when in fact, I feel about as crazy as I ever have.

The paranoia and distorted anxiety induced thoughts are freaking me out. I’ve always had it to an extent, but right now, it has ballooned to ‘loss of touch with reality’ to some extent. Not to mention how this is going to throw off my evening ritual which is part of what calms me down for bedtime and soothes my frazzled nerves. Mash, then Frasier, then sleep. Last night, I had a mini meltdown and panic attack because it rained and our digital antenna wasn’t bringing in any stations. I was on the floor, unplugging the TV, channel scanning ten times, watching the clock because the normal routine was thrown off completely. Eventually I got the station I needed but man…This ‘routine’ rigidity is new for me. I’vw always needed some sort of structure but this is ridiculous.

I guess so many things in my life are out of my control, this is the only way I have of retaining any feeling of having control. It sounds wacky but it makes perfect sense when you factor in all my mental health issues. I’ve always wondered if I have a touch of Aspbergers (however it is spelled) because I have so much trouble making eye contact, instigating social connections, bonding with people, and the desire to just be alone because it is all so difficult…I mean, in theory, I’d love to have a small tribe of likeminded friends, but in practice…even friendships are too much stimuli for me. It truly is overwhelming and anxiety inducing. Not to mention when you have friends there are social obligations, like going out in the petri dish, and that just isn’t me, really never has been me aside from my rare manic or stable periods. Maybe it was all the bullying in school and the dysfunctional family dynamic that screwed me up, though the anxiety and depression do no favors, either.

I am debating whether to finish the last part of the yard. One thing about the pool water still clogging one ear is it lessens the noise of the lawn mower. Bad side, my kid has “Old Town Road’ stuck in my head in a loop and I just wanna scream. It’s like that damn Jonas Brothers song “Sucker”, it gets stuck in my head even though the first time I heard it, I thought, whoa this chick can’t sing, she sucks. I was stunned to find out it was by dudes. I hate loud pitched noises, it makes me need to pee, not to mention what it does to my hearing sensitivity.

I feel so damn broken. So often, especially when I hear about people who are actually contributing to society and having careers and lives, pass away for whatever reason. I ask, what the hell is my purpose here? I’m 46, I still can’t work, my mental health issues are just getting worse by the day…I am a useless drain on society while these talented people are dying WHY AM I FUCKING HERE? I guess it is to raise Spook, maybe she will make something of her life. I sure as hell didn’t, unless you count the sheer miracle of never trying to off myself and surviving the Baskin Robbins menu of mental health illnesses. I really need a sign that I am here for a bigger purpose. To write successfully, to help animals and less fortunate people, to DO SOMETHING GOOD.

Thing is it is damn near impossible to do anything for others when it takes everything you have to manage yourself and what responsibilities you have going on. It’s not a cop out or excuse, it is just plain truth. I need to get well, and stay well mentally, before I can be of use to others. I’ve tried doing it backwards and putting myself out there for others, but all it leads to is them moving on and me getting further behind.

WHY AM I HERE? I feel so…Ugh. Pointless. And reading the news every day is not doing me any favors. Now the dictator in charge is gonna ban immigrants without high paying skills, anyone who has ever used public assistance, blah blah blah. Oh, and let’s not forget this former phone company dude trying to censor the internet where anyone who disagrees with your beliefs can silence you on line. IT IS TERRIFYING.

Oh and one more thing to irk me. A show just said someone was diagnosed with manic depression and bipolar disorder. THEY ARE THE SAME BLOODY THING, DO A LITTLE RESEARCH, MORONS.

Nope, expending energy and getting active by doing all that mowing didn’t ease my anxiety, quiet my mind, or make me feel invigorated. I am still pissed off, depressed, and stricken with terror and panic. Man, I wanted to be one of those happy commercials where someone just takes up physical activity like running or whatever and suddenly they are cured of depression and anxiety. Except that isn’t reality for many of us. Certainly not bipolar two. You can’t give your all when you’re depressed 10 months of the year and barely keeping your head above water.

Incoming stress headache.

I hope my panic and paranoia can at least wait until after I have to take her to stop and drop. When the alarm bells go off and I start viewing everyone as a viable threat…well, the sweating starts, the gut goblins kick in, and…it isn’t pretty but it is nice and humiliating. Egad. Anyone who says I am not doing my best is a fucking moron. That I am still here and not locked up as a threat to myself or others is a bonafide fucking moron. And yes, gratutious cursing is necessary because…well, damn it, I am freaking out and cursing makes me feel better. Oh, fuck. One more thing to worry about tonight. When I panic, I tend to start cussing under my breath then out loud if it gets too bad.

One day I hope Spook can at least look back at all the things I have done for her benefit and think, hey, she wasn’t such a shit mom, after all.

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