Crickets

I couldn’t think of a better title except for the incessant annoyance of a cricket somewhere inside chirping. Metaphor for my mental health issues. Can’t find the root, can’t make the noise stop, can’t seem to fix the problem so I just live with it and grow increasingly more irritated and pissed off. Crickets.

Yesterday was a testament to strength in the midst of a breakdown. Just traveling the extra 20 miles to fetch my kid from Armpit school and get her to town for her dr appointment was harrowing. Surrounded by nothing but corn fields and stretches of road, literally in the boondocks. Every sound the car made, every time it shifted too slowly or whatever, my heart began to pound and I became convinced the car was going to break down. On top of that it was scorching hot and I was melting in sweat. My kid didn’t have her pill in the morning so by the time I fetched her and gave it to her and we got to the doctor office…she was loud and busy…then the doctor saw her and she’d barely speak and pulled the shy hiding behind mommy bit. Makes me livid. They kept us waiting for almost a half hour and she went through so many topic changes (a ten year old discussing the illuminati,wtf?) and she colored pictures and she wreaked havoc on some sort of toddler toy with the colors and shapes and bars you slide them up and down. I was getting seriously irate by the noise. It was ADHD in its most primal form. And instead of the doctor getting to see what I have to deal with daily…my kid puts on her halo and instead acts like a social misfit too scared to speak up. Lovely.

After that, we had to go to the pharmacy because the doctor switched her to Focalin and the pharmacy didn’t have it so we gotta wait til tomorrow, or longer, if insurance puts up a fight even though it’s allegedly on their formulary. Then we had to get cat food and I had to feed her and we came home…And it was like I’d run a marathon. All that fear and panic and paranoia, all the while trying to maintain my calm and force the social smiles that say “I’m not a danger to my kid or child, I love being a parent and am awesome at it”…Exhausting. To come home to what has become my nightmare crypt of inertia with the hopes that ‘a good night’s sleep will help and I will kick ass tomorrow on all this housework.” Not happening today.

I finally filled out our renewal for food and medical assistance on line. About 11 days late but within the window. Waiting to find out how much getting child support fucks our situation as opposed to helping it. Because like it or not, if the cash you have coming in has to go for food from losing food stamps, you’re not getting ahead, you’re just getting dragged further down. The system is just lacking in logic. I wish I had the answers. Um, reward people for effort, maybe, instead of punishing them. Truthfully I wish I didn’t have to deal with any of it. I want a job that has benefits that can keep us comfortable, nothing more, nothing less.

Unfortunately, I am pretty useless right now even to myself. Yesterday was the first bat I’d had since last Thursday and I only did it because my hair was gross. Feeding myself is stressful. Choosing clothing is tear inducing. The ONLY thing the Zoloft even at increased dose has done is help me sleep a little more consistently at night without multiple wakings. It has done nothing to ease the depression, anxiety, or energize me. I keep hoping, praying, waiting for ‘something’ to give and things to be different. And I am TRYING. I am washing a load of laundry right now to go hang out on the clothesline.

Which brings me to another issue I am debililtated by these days. Going outside. Hell, even out of my bedroom makes me feel unsafe and shaky. Going outdoors where people can see me…It feels wrong. I can’t explain it, but it’s like the old agoraphobia is coming back and I do not want to go back to that shit. I have to be semi functional for my kid, ffs. What kind of psych professional hears the med isn’t doing a thing for your depression and says, oh stay on it, it’s a low dose, we’ll just double it. I think a month even at a low dose should have given me some relief. Instead it has made me regress. And I can’t talk to this woman, she twists whatever I say because her agenda is monotherapy, period. I wonder how much of my year has been wrecked because of her unwillingness to entertain a dual therapy.

God, I want to work. I just…I can’t even manage enjoyable things. I am in bed at 8:30 every night because it’s my only true safe space, in bed, in the dark. This is not normal thinking. And I told the nurse and she just does not hear…

So here I am in my hamster wheel with my crickets, waiting for the seasonal depression to swoop in soon and make it all the worse and I don’t have any fucking answers. I am seriously starting to think I took the wrong path along the way. I should have just said fuck therapists and shrinks and become a functional alcoholic and pothead. I don’t see how it could have possibly made my life turn out worse than my current mental space.And addiction is considered a disease so there is less stigma and more empathy.

Trying to do the right thing…sucks.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.