Slipping Sanity

We survived the cookout thingie at my dad’s. It was hellish for me between the sun, the swarming sweat bees, and the bugs biting me. Not to mention sitting between a MAGA sign and confederate flags in their yard and a sign on the tree across the road that said “I love Jesus”. I just can’t reconcile that any deity would have anything to do with the hate spewing MAGA movement. Maybe that’s my hang up, IDK anymore.

We came home and I dispatched Spook to get a bath. I found the trash knocked over and chastised Godsmack since she is the only cat inside. Then I came in my room and found all my med bottles knocked over on the wardrobe, some of them missing. I went full on paranoiac and panic stricken, thinking someone busted in for my Xanax stash or something. I went searching for signs someone had been inside, since my dad mentioned seeing the landlord riding round town today. Never mind that he never could find the back door key and has no copy of the front door key. Logic was out of the fucking ball field. I went full on NUTS, albeit without alerting Spook. Then I talked myself off the ledge, reminding myself if someone had broken in they’d likely have taken our electronics and I haven’t exactly broadcast my mental issues or medications around town so who’d know to steal that stuff? As if I have anything useful for people to use or sell other than Xanax. If someone had wanted to stealthily rummage they’d likely not have knocked things to the side or to the floor or whatever. Now who would do that and not right it? A CAT. Cats climb. And I used to keep beef jerky up there so no doubt Godsmack was probably hunting for that.

This paranoia and panic is starting to scare the shit out of me. My mind is going sideways.

Worse, I am scared it is impacting my kid. Yesterday she had a tussle with the neighbor boys and came inside bawling and hyperventilating that ‘they’ were going to come take her away from me because the boys saw her move a sharp saw my dad left here in the yard and they started saying she was trying to commit suicide. She was a wreck, and it continued into today with her freaking out when I got a phone call. She asked, “Should I pack my stuff?” I don’t think any of us have done her any good. In the course of trying to teach her not to tell lies or ‘cry wolf’ because she could be removed from my care, now every tiny thing has her scared of that outcome. It brings me great shame and guilt. It took me 2 hours to calm her down yesterday and she was all freaked out about seeing the boys at church or at the bus stop and they threatened to have some 13 year old girl punch her…The drama is like a repeat of the trailer park and I’m just like, stay inside on the tablet, at least you don’t fight with it. And I have to wonder if she is learning this bickering and not being able to get along with people from me, but then, I’d have to be around people for her to learn that. All she sees from me is avoidance of people and spending my time with her or alone and the obligatory family stuff.

Dear God, is it possible I programmed her to be anxious? She didn’t get this way until we moved. If she was going to pick it up from me, she had 8 years to acquire it. Which makes me think this place is just toxic for both of us. Sadly, there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I have started to think moving here is going to be the end of me, and the beginning of Spook’s road to crazy neuroses. I do my best to shield her from the worst of it by keeping it in my head or on these pages though I must admit I’ve been a little too open to saying, “Stop that, it makes me nervous.” These days, what doesn’t make me nervous and paranoid? The knocked over pill bottles sent me into such a tailspin and panic…I felt like for a moment there, I disconnected with reality. Thinking I am so important people would break in just to mess up my crazy pills? But ya know, once you’ve had your place robbed once, it kind of sets you up to be a little paranoid and suspicious. Just because it was 5 years ago doesn’t change that it happened and it was a total invasion of privacy and space. I keep the place locked down because of this even if most people in Armpit don’t even lock their doors because it’s so ‘safe’ here.

Cripes, my ears and nose are itching and my mother’s idiotic superstitions are sending me off another flight of paranoia and panic. When I say I am scared I am losing my shit, I mean it. I’m not a danger to my kid, I don’t even spank her and frankly, we’ve been getting along very well lately. But this quick to panic and go paranoid, and my inability to shake off the dark depressive inertia that clouds my every thought…It’s frightening. And NOT my status quo.

My sanity is slipping. And I am starting to wonder if there’s going to come a point I need antipsychotics. Which if I do, I’m done, because all of them have such heinous side effects, I know I would never reliably stay on them. I can’t handle the side effects, never could. But can I handle the crazy? Then again, if the crazy is largely due to my heightened anxiety from the med reduction, would an antipsychotic even make a dent?

So much garbage in, garbage out. I just gotta keep holding on, my kid is counting on me. Though better than any prescription would be the financial means to move back to town and get the fuck out of my dad’s shadow. But since they made it clear if we ever leave they won’t help us move ever again, I’d need a lot of money to hire moving people. So we’re stuck, yet again, and it’s bad for both our mental health. I don’t think moving back to town would cure my mental issues, but I know it’d ease a lot of my anxiety. All I can do is keep going and fight like hell against the pending insanity. Because I will not let anyone take Spook away from me, we are a family and we need each other. More than that, we are very attached and love each other. Not even my own mental demons are going to rob me of the bond I have with my daughter.

I hope I’ve got a hell of a lot of fight left in me. I am gonna need it.

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