Archive for the anxiety disorders Category

Let’s Talk About Social Security

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , on June 23, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

I don’t pretend to be in the know on current political matters. However, I do subscribe to several things that deliver ‘news’ to my email in box.

Yesterday’s instant panic came with an email about President Trump’s plan to essentially gut social security. Now it’s not the first time I’ve heard or seen discussion on the matter. The fact that it’s coming closer to being reality, now that is what’s terrifying.

More galling is how the wealthy are getting more breaks, while necessary programs for those of us living at poverty level continue to go through the shredder.

Let’s be honest, my readers, who, like me, rely on social security disability just to survive…If this new regime has no qualms taking the paltry sums for older and elderly people…The disabled are just screwed. It may sound selfish but I look at my daughter and think, if we lose my disability income, we’re going to be homeless.

It’s terrifying. Because after a day or two of a quiet mind, today the Bad Voices have started mumbling, telling me I should just stop trying because we’re all doomed anyway. All those sheeple working class who thought Trump was the answer…You’re doomed, too. Because the rich are catching all the breaks. And if you’re a woman, well, the current regime wants to set womens’ right back fifty years. DOOMED.

I know political posts are frowned upon in the wordpress establishment but this is less about what party you vote for or how you like/love the president. This is about his plan to gut social security, something this country desperately needs. If you think it doesn’t impact you, then think about your parents or grandparents.

We should all feel some apprehension. And some of us are entitled to feel plain terrified.

Break

Posted in anxiety disorders, bipolar depression with tags , , , on May 19, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

I did the unthinkable, the unforgivable, as a parent last night. I cried in front of my child. I am the grown up, I am supposed to protect her and make her feel safe and yet one too many stressors and I just…broke. I wasn’t sobbing and hysterical, I just teared up and sort of whimpered, “Why can’t something just go right?”

According to that last child psychologist who put every bit of my child’s behavior at my doorstep because she senses my depression and anxiety thus I am The Problem…I am probably the least fit parent on the planet. God knows, you can beat your kids, starve them, neglect them but god forbid you have a legitimate mental condition that causes you to behave in ways contrary to your own nature and beliefs…you are unfit. What that woman did to me psychologically with her “3 visits, your kid behaves in front of me, you’re the problem” bullshit is criminal. That after the therapist who diagnosed as borderline after 2 visits and 20 years of every other therapist saying not otherwise specified. They all want to rewrite history, they all want to label me after a couple of visits…

And THEY are the reason I no longer trust therapists or even believe in them. Once again, that is all on me, as I am mental and thus they are right, I am histrionic and unable to handle the truth about myself.

See, it’s not enough my brain lies to me, distorts things, and tells me how so much is wrong with me I should just off myself. NOPE. I get therapists who pretty much confirm what the scumbag depression is telling me. And this is supposed to make me better but instead, it has made me so much worse. Therapy used to be a good thing for me, back when I could rant and rave and not have myself labeled with a personality disorder during a hypo mixed phased or a deep depression. Because sorry, when you’re hypo and irritated, everything does become black or white. People are evil or they are good, there is no in between. That is NOT borderline, because six months later when the meds are working, you see the shades of gray. That is chemical imbalance, damn it.

But no, thanks to a couple of shitty therapists in a row who were supposed to help me…I’ve lost my faith in the therapy process and come to rely solely on blogging, research, peer support here on wordpress, and medications. We all know how well the medications work for me. Though to be fair, the mood stabilizers and anti anxiety meds are old reliable. It’s the anti depressants that fail me again and again or I have bad reactions and because I’m part of .001% who reacted that way, I must be making it up because big pharma and the docs say those aren’t known reactions…

I am rambling. Good. It means my anger is overriding the weepiness. I cling to my anger because society respects it more than genuine emotion. Anger and hatred get good press, look at who is our president. FEELINGS, like sadness, empathy, compassion, tears- those get the bad press, those are FROWNED UPON IN THIS ESTABLISHMENT. So bring on the anger, let it keep me simmering and above the surface.

As for last night’s break…It just stemmed from a week of kittens dying, my Mira computer overheating and me too stupid to clean the fan, the floors are caving in to the point my bathtub and toilet are going to be on the ground soon even though the maintenance guy pointed out it needed fix and stupid me assumed maybe since he saw how bad it was with his own eyes maybe it would actually get done…and then there’s my kid, perfect angel for everyone else on the planet, who just constantly defies me and bickers every time I say no and even after seeing me cry and me weepily asking, “Can’t we just be a loving family and respect each other?”…it took an hour and a half to get her to stay in her bed and quit making demands of me…

Who wouldn’t break?

Right, it’s just me. The therapists thought so.

I am buried alive here with everything that is wrong and while there are definitely some sucky problems..Six weeks ago, it wasn’t this bad. And I attribute this to being on a singular anti depressant regimen. I need dual anti depressants when it gets this bad and yet..I can’t bring myself to call the doctor’s office because their short staffing has made it a nightmare to just get refills let alone accomplish starting a new med without an appointment.I see the nurse in ten days, I can tough it out, right? Because what’s worse than feeling so broken due to depression is calling the professionals for help and feeling neglected, rejected, and pushed aside like you’re just an annoyance. And while that may be my interpretation, distorted by depression…it just feels shitty when your doctor, who you count on to help you get through this shit, is running an outfit less organized than the McDonald’s drive thru.

What hurts the most is knowing back around March 19th, I was doing pretty damn well. It only last a couple of weeks but it gave me hope that I could rise from the depressive ashes. Except the seasonal dragged me back down the second the weeks of gloom and rain and cold returned and it was like going through winter all over again. To feel so good only to have it ripped away is just brutal.

So maybe my kid will be traumatized for life because mommy broke down and cried a little. I’m human and I’m struggling and no one will lift a finger to help me so if breaking down on occasion gets me through..my kid will just have to be traumatized. Though at 7, I’m not convinced she has the capacity for that because then she would have to feel something for someone other than herself and honestly…Spook just doesn’t. I don’t know if it’s normal behavior for her age. I just know it’s scary for me, thinking if I don’t instill some empathy and conscience in this child, I could be raising the next Aileen Wournos. Or worse, the next President Trump.

Yeah, I said it. That is worse than the female serial killer.

And while I’d love to say that’s the depression talking, it really isn’t. I just have a real problem with people who have no conscience or empathy, regardless of their age or station in life.

Maybe if I get medicated properly it won’t get me so riled. Until then..I’m broken. And it’s okay to be broken. Broken things can be repaired most of the time.

Let’s hope I am one of the “most of the times”.

Losing It

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , , on May 18, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Quiet brain started rumbling after I picked my kid up from school and every tiny thing I tried to do went wrong. Like disassembling the vacuum and fixing it and I went totally blank on where one part went back in even though I’ve taken that section apart ten times. Just…blank. Then I dumped a glass of water. The wind kept knocking the fan over but if I close the windows, the humidity kills us. Another kitten passed away. R called to ask if I’d keep the shop open from 4pm to 6pm tomorrow while he goes out of town to look at a car as his got side swiped and is barely running… My kid started mouthing me in front of her friend and after telling her no to the same thing five times, I went a little overboard with the ‘firm’ voice. Gah, just…suckage.

Around 8:30 p.m. the panxiety set in. Only it was a scarier panxiety than I’ve had in a long time. The light dimmed when I plugged the fan in my kid’s room. Which brought me back to a text from my sis a few days ago when she saw a firetruck heading my address direction and she was worried we had a fire. And of course, a week or two back my dad tossed out how he thinks we’re going to burn to death in this place. Then I realized one of my smoke detectors fell off the wall and is trashed and the other has a dead battery…I AM A TERRIBLE MOTHER, IRRESPONSIBLE AND UNFIT!!!!

I started spinning out of control, mentally. Looking at all the stuff I’ve let go, all the stuff falling apart. Even this laptop, the keyboard got splashed with sticky stuff (OJ, I think, courtesy of leaping felines) which is more money and having R install it. Oh and in spite of two cooling fans external, the laptop is getting hot really fast meaning likely my fan is clogged but I can’t disassemble a damned computer and the person I know can is too busy to contact me unless it is related to his needs.

Downward spiral at breakneck speed. Sheer terror, going around turning off anything that doesn’t need to be on. And I found my kitchen dark and the fridge off which means likely when the fan in my kid’s room dimmed, it’s tied to that circuit and the safety breaker was thrown. Had to reset that. And then it came in the back of my head, the rare appearance but always terrifying…

You’re trapped like a rat in a maze here, you’re unfit to be a mother, your kid deserves better…You’re losing it and you feel buried alive and you know what would just fix it all is to kill yourself.

These dark thoughts do not come to me often, that has always been the one plus of whatever brand of imbalance I have going on. I’m not suicidal. But when the panxiety hits the roof and I feel so overwhelmed…Scumbag brain starts whispering, then screaming, like a bunch of cruel teenagers encouraging a classmate to jump off the roof ledge and kill themselves.

I am a little scared by tonight’s mental events. I don’t see the psych nurse until May 30th but if I am falling apart with paranoia and hopelessness three times in the same week…I am decompensating. I need to call the dr office and talk to someone but as short staffed as they are, by the time I hear back, it will be the day of the appointment. I need a secondary anti depressant and I need it desperately. I was playing my little ponies with my kid earlier and honestly…I was keeping a promise I made to her last night. I have zero desire to play. I zone out and fake it and…THIS IS NOT ME!

I didn’t realize how quickly I was circling the drain until tonight. Because I had a few less vile periods and thought I was close to the upswing of seasonal depression. Instead I am falling to pieces and emotional shrapnel is everywhere. My writing has practically flat lined. I have no desire to go to yard sales (as if I have money.) Even food has lost its appeal and the tv shows I watch…background noise and something to distract myself from my own thoughts.

I AM NOT GOING TO HURT MYSELF, so please don’t take that message from this post. I posted this simply because I NEED the professionals to know how bad it gets for me at times, how terrifying it is, how paralyzing it is. To be so overwhelmed, have so little support or help, to just tread water day after day until nights like this when I started going under the surface, sputtering for breath. Convinced sharks are coming for me even though there are no sharks in the murky local river where I am drowning.

I took 2mg Xanax and am starting to calm down. I hope this is an isolated incident. Even if these paranoia bouts hit three or four times a year…It’s too many times. I feel like mentally I am so far gone and such a failure…

You know what the depressive distortions are telling me.

It’s terrifying. More terrifying is living in fear that one day…I’ll start believing the distortions and finally throw in the towel.

I think the brain needs a reboot, gonna attempt sleep. But with my brain circling with all the possibilities of what could go wrong while I am asleep…It’s not going to be restful sleep.

I hate this.

Anxiety Induced Paranoia

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , on May 16, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Two days now I have been battling bouts of panxiety Which in my world us an actual thing. It’s the place where anxiety mixes with paranoia and bad thoughts set in. Yesterday I saw my landlord in the trailer court. My first thought is, “Oh, God, is he here to tell me my yard’s messy, blah blah blah”…I try to point out, my rent is paid, my utilities haven’t been turned off, my yard is mowed, my trash is not piled up, there is NO reason to think he has a problem with me.

Panxiety gives zero fucks.

On the way to pick my daughter up from school, the car seemed to sputter a bit and suddenly I got terrified that it’s about to keel over. I tried logic, again. It’s probably just water in the gas, you can get some fuel treatment, it will be fine”. On the way back, it didn’t do the sputtering thing.

My kid was playing outside with seven other kids and one kid’s mom was out there and she was so loud, I swore she was yelling at the kids. Spook says the mom accused her of making fun of her kid and threatened to “do something” bad to her. Now not having heard this, and knowing my kid is in the pathological lying phase of childhood…I’m not sure how much stock I put into it. But this woman was just so loud and overbearing, it set my panxiety off even more.

The one good thing from the panxiety, after a second dose of Xanax, was that I was going nuts with the anxiety and spinning thoughts so I got up and decided doing dishes would distract me. Then I cleaned the kitchen floor, the bathroom, I put more laundry in the wash, cleaned an old fan from the shed, even cleaned the mirrors and windows. All the while feeling like the 14 year old girl who went to school and lived in terror of being confronted by bullies. I just got it in my head this mom was going to come knock on my door or something. Panxiety.

Then my kid let a boy ride her new bike but he took off on it around the entire park and refused to give it back to her. I had to hunt him down and tell him to give it back. He defended himself by saying she said he could ride it. I said, you don’t run off with someone’s back when they tell you they want it back. I may have used a firmer tone than necessary, not yelling, just PMS-y. So then I waited for his angry parents to come knock on the door to bitch me out…

At 8 p.m. my dad called to say they were coming to town with that mattress and box spring their neighbor gave them and I was in desperate need of new-ish so I couldn’t complain when it was free and they were transporting it. But being put on the spot sent me into panxiety because I had to get my old mattress and boxspring out, which I managed. Then I saw the mess under the bed so I went to vacuum it and BAM. Sweeper just quit, I hit something, probably a damned lego or something. One more thing I gotta fix or hope I can fix. Then I got all paranoid about them coming inside because my stepmonster either says the house smells like cat pee or she doesn’t like the scented wax melts I burn cos they irritate her allergies and…Just didn’t want to hear it. Fortunately, I am “burly” (my first husband described me that way, he thought it was a compliment) but I got the box spring and mattress inside without their help.

Was a little irked they went to my sister’s first to take her stuff because showing up at 8:15 knowing my kid’s bedtime is 8:30 and my sister doesn’t have a little kid to put to bed but hey…free stuff, free delivery, shuddup, Morgue.

Slept ok, didn’t wake up in spinal agony thanks to a bouncy mattress without springs protruding. YAY.

Today the panxiety has manifested because tonight is my kid’s school carnival and crowds don’t help my issues. Four hours my stomach acid has been churning (in addition to hella cramps) and I have another four hours before the shindig starts. The professionals preach about avoidance behavior and immersion therapy but what SANE person would enjoy situations where anxiety manifests as paranoia and burning stomach aches???

I will go, I will survive. (Gloria Gaynor, anyone?)

I just wish my brain would stop sending me signals that bad things are going to happen. It’s very convincing. I know it lies but knowing that doesn’t make the physical symptoms and fear go away.

So, yeah. Panxiety is a thing. The Dufas Statistical Moron (DSM) manual really needs to add this as a legit condition. It’s a hell all it’s own.

The Aftermath Of Braving Anxiety

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , , on May 13, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

I went to the school shindig yesterday. It was awkward and as usual, poorly organized, as they tried to have students guide groups of people through the tiny building. I soldiered through it, bored out of my mind, of course, because well, I just got bored writing about being bored. The joy of ADD and how it makes you think about ten things at the same time thus whatever you are doing is boring…

The first part was dull. But the moment they took us to the second grade class where Spook was…She saw me and her face lit up and she just put her hand over her heart to tell me how much it meant that I had come…I teared up a bit. PMS. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. But that one moment kind of made it worthwhile.

What was brutal was the Leadership assembly in the tiny gym (max 458 people at any time, do the math of five grades, 24 students times two classes, plus all family members, you know why they have to have tour groups to control the crowding and fire safety laws). I got a seat and was painfully aware, not for the first time, no one sat by me even though two chairs were empty. Not that it hurt my feelings, just like, the weirdest thing I have going on is wearing a black shirt with black pants and black shoes, I’m not in a spiked bikini and clown shoes stamped ‘ebola infected’. Whatever.

What got WEIRD was when I inadvertently coughed (ya know that sinus drainage tickle in your throat that makes you cough involuntarily?) and they were showing some low volume video of a teacher emoting about how the leadership meetings have made the kids better people…well these two girls from sixth grade were in front of me and they glared not just daggers, but machetes at me. Like I had coughed on purpose to be rude. I mumbled sorry and figured that was that.

NOPE. For twenty five minutes of the assembly those same two girls kept looking at me, and I wasn’t sure if I had something on my face (even checked my purse mirror) or if I was on fire or something. Because I was in a chair behind them, they were on the floor facing the action, and still, they kept looking back at me. I wasn’t coughing, I smelled nice, I was minding my own damned business…But they kept staring. And of course, 20 plus years of therapy has some cognitive behavior bullshit thing stomping my brain, telling me because I was bullied in school I am imagining things, making it up. I wanted to believe that, truly. But by the tenth time someone literally turns in their seat and cranes their neck to stare…THEY ARE INDEED STARING.

Now bipolar PMS-y me had the first instinct of, “I wanna fuck kick you, you little brats.” Except that wasn’t the B word I was thinking and yeah, I’m mean, get over it. But then because of all the therapy I have had and because I knew at 14 what I still know at 44…I got to thinking, “In this denim and flannel town, I’m probably the most exotic thing they’ve seen their entire lives…They probably admire me or at least hate me for being different and I hate them for being the same.”

I ignored them, but subconsciously, my anxiety and discomfort were already off and running. I got one of my stress stomach aches, the ones that feel like my stomach acids are burning through to my spine. And all I could think was let this be over soon, I need to go home and drink cold milk, that’s all that will make it stop.

When it was over and they sent the kids back to class to fetch their bags and stuff, I fled outdoors and sat on a bench, willing my stomach to stop boiling. It didn’t work.The doctors and counselors are ignorant. They may have book smarts and experience and their methods but for some of us…those methods simply do not apply. We are not special, we do not expect the DSM to be rewritten for our rare exceptions to the rule..We just want them to acknowledge one size does not fit all.

The price of seeing my kid smile with joy to see me? Six hours of stomach agony followed by such a disheveled mental state I couldn’t write or watch a TV show or hell, even pick something to watch. Even when my stomach and nerves settled, my mental state was upended and YES, I tried all the therapy tricks to talk myself out of it.

Fortunately a good night’s sleep put me back into a less sucky mental space, but it’s not saying much because today I have the menstrual dypshoria weepy urges and the cramps that sear right to my spine. Yay.

Ya wanna know the kicker? My kid was happy to see me but afterward she told me I embarrassed her.

So worth the agony, right?

Is it wrong for me to hope she’s chemically imbalanced and not just a lousy person like her sperm donor?

Yeah, yeah, Morgue, some things should never be spoken aloud, that is awful.

I’ll give a fuck or two when my spine isn’t being devoured by ovary oompa loompas.

Maybe.

Meh, bipolar.

Brave Face Faked

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , on May 12, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

My kid’s school is having some Leadership thing today. I wasn’t going to go because crowds, eww, and plus at first she said she didn’t want me there. Then she said she did. I feel better today than I did yesterday (sunshine really makes a difference and yet it hurts my eyeballs, go figure.)

I bothered to put on half decent clothes, do my hair, toss on some make up and earrings. Still, I feel like a giant fat embarrassing-to-my-kid blob. And that shouldn’t matter, it’s probably my weight issue and the pms making me bloated but…Fact is, my kid is pretty shallow and concerned with what others think and being popular so I do worry that my presence will just make her upset. Yet my absence could, as well.

Making this more difficult is next week’s school carnival, which every year results in me overheating in their crowded halls and anxiety attacks that render me with flu like symptoms. Two outings in under 7 days? This is ballsy. This is brave. This is me faking it.

I need to leave in 15 minutes and I have no idea what to expect when I get there except the packed gym and hallways. It’s unnerving. But at least on this day, I have the strength to sack up and fake it for her sake.

Maybe later I meltdown, maybe not. But I got 12 pages written this morning, still pushing those boulders and double spacing to increase page count but…I am NOT hitting the wall after only 6 weeks in the writing zone. NOPE. Rather churn out drivel than let myself be cursor blocked by the bullshit my own body, mind, and the world throw at me.

I will be earning my spork of fortitude today. I just hope my kid appreciates it rather than having one of her epic mood swings and accusing me of coming when she said not to. She rewrites history that way, it’s pretty brutal for me.

I’m gonna fake it til I make it and if her mood has changed or I do embarrass her for whatever reason cos her friends don’t like my eye color or the sound of my breathing or whatever idiotic thing kids pick on…Sucks to be her. I’m the present parent. It’s all I’ve got going for me right now.

Sometimes It’s You, But Today It’s Me

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , on May 9, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Yesterday’s meltdown over the cat v computer glitch should have clued me in. I am only ever that irate during a panic attack OR…PMS. During the night my kid woke up from a bad dream and wanted to get in my bed but I’d already spent three hours avoiding crushing a cat in bed so I was at a loss how to get them to stay off the bed to make room for her. And she’s been sleeping in her bed most of the time all night so it was deviation and we all know that brings out the worst in Morgue. But I finally relocated the cats (for all the good it does, 3 years ago Spook’s brat devil girl friends broke the door from my room to the bathroom off so there’s just a curtain and gap under the bathroom door they can squish under, total invasion)…And then I was awake, agitated and anticipating how interminably long it was going to take for me to get back to sleep. And my kid just wanted to complain that my background shows were making her scared (GET OUT OF MY ROOM AT 3 A.M., THIS IS MY QUIET TIME AND I WANT TO LISTEN TO SCARY SHOWS BECAUSE THE NARRATOR’S VOICES SOOTHE ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

(I am run on sentence ranty queen today, woo hoo.) So I was awake and the kittens were crying and I took a Xanax even though I knew it’d make getting up early even harder. (Weird thing there, now that it gets light out earlier, I am actually waking before the alarm but I can’t seem to pry myself out of bed before 5 minutes til we have to leave.) I was still tossing and turning because it was so humid and the clock was nearing 5 a.m. and that just made me more pissed off and my scumbag brain ran laps on its hamster wheel at breakneck speed…And by the time the alarm went off…I was awake cos daylight does not make me sleep…But I stayed in bed just trying not to get pissed off that I was awake before I could even hit snooze the first time.

It improved after I got her to school. I came home, wrote a little, cleaned all the cat boxes and put in new litter, I vacuumed the living room, fixed myself a decent lunch, put out trash for pick up.

Sadly, our kitten Orion did not make it, he passed away this morning at 5 weeks old. I buried him and picked a fresh rose off my rose bush to place on his grave. I did my crying Saturday when I realized the meds weren’t working for him (don’t ask what chunk of my soul I had to sell to get cat meds) so today I teared up but didn’t break down. Sadly, his sibling Godsmack (the band, not blasphemy) is not faring well on the meds, either and there’s just nothing left to do but pray and hope.

I wrote a little more before I ran some errands and picked my kid up. I had to spend $19 on a fan so Spook’s room and mine could both have one so I now have $18 for two weeks for food and gas, YAY, life is wonderful. Ick. Then I get my kid and she starts yapping and I tell her something which two seconds later she basically regurgitates back at me as her own ‘news’ which means she wasn’t listening to a word I had said. And she started in with the demands of food and friends and why did I get the new fan first (because my room is in the sun and heats up worse than yours, the old one will be fine until the next check in two weeks). I was talking to her about her constant mouthing off and arguing with me even when I am telling her YES and it was like talking a brick fucking wall. I got so agitated. Oh and the homework hell in which I turn off all background noise but fans and she is still looking everywhere but the work and whining how boring it is and screaming at me like homework was my invention.

Suffice it to say…My irritation went way up. I am calming down now but every thing, infinitesimal or big, is infuriating me. I was cursing at my computer loudly and nastily because the video wouldn’t quit buffering. When I start going off this badly, this is straight up PMS. Soon the pain will arrive, then the event itself, and for four more days my mental state will be in flux. We are getting more gloom and rain, too this week so this should be real fun.

R stopped by last night and I realized…We have nothing common but talking broken parts that he wants ordered and drinking alcohol. He spent most of the time not talking, giving short answers if I tried to talk, and oh, playing Jelly Splash on his iphone. It was beyond awkward and annoying and I even let my kid stay up late yapping in hopes it would just make him leave. WHY DO YOU COME OVER IF YOU ARE JUST GONNA GIVE ME THE SILENT TREATMENT AND PLAY ON YOUR PHONE????? I really would rather be alone. So I can see this friendship circling the drain and I swear it’s not my fault. But without conversation and with someone who for five years spends most of his “hanging out” time playing games on his phone…Just kind of over it. Not to mention how bitchy he is with my kid. That is my job, not his. I get it, she’s loud and relentless and annoying at times. Not his place to snap at her for being noisy in her own home.

But on the plus side yesterday, I did dishes, mowed the lawn, put through some laundry, cooked a decent meal for me and Spook. It’s just ups and downs and hormones and depressive overreactions. This is my life every damned month for ten to fourteen days and on top of bipolar depression and anxiety disorder..Yeah, I may get snappy and I may even yell a little…And sometimes, people around me, IT IS YOU.

But today I have to admit…It IS ME.

Not my finest hour but admitting the truth is hard, facing it is harder. I know what I am and sometimes, it’s just unpleasant and maybe all my relationships fail and my own kid is determined to challenge me at every turn to break me down…

I’m still here. For what it’s worth. Given my mood and agitation level, some days it’s worth nothing and others it’s worth everything.

But yeah…today it really is ME. Sorry.