Archive for the anxiety disorders Category

Gloom Mongered

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

Slept 4 and a half hours then woke, terrified I’d miss the alarm for my kid’s first day back to school cos, hello, smart phone, dumb Morgue…That anxiety ate away at me so I took .25mg of Xanax and right as the hamster wheel started to slow down…Spook-in-the-box pops up and can’t get back to sleep because she was nervous and excited about school. Which meant neither of us got back to sleep, she had her new clothes on and hair done by 5 a.m. I’d hoped even for a power nap but it didn’t happen then. I was relieved to drop her at school because her enthusiasm was killing me. Hypo and depression both HATE enthusiasm so it’s hard to know which cycle I am actually in.

The texting chihua got called back to his ‘real ‘ job, after working three days last week, then off two days, now he’s back and he was on me about the shop. And all I wanted was my first true kid free day in months and I texted back a little snarky, plus the bug treatment has me sweeping up corpses constantly before the cats can eat them and be poisoned…But because I do need his expertise with automobiles and of course, my heat will need fixed again come winter…I sucked it up and agreed to do four hours even though it pissed me off but the guilt was worse. I mean, he’s working two jobs and I’m gonna whine about a few hours of essentially sitting on my ass and occasionally helping hoist a TV in or out?

Guilt fucking sucks ass.

This morning I went home, feeling absolutely shitty from lack of sleep and finally when I got in the power nap…it lasted 20 minutes before my gloom spewing father called. And so my self esteem went further down the septic tank, my guilt skyrocketed, and my anxiety turned into an acid burning stomach ache. YAY. I dared defend the ONE good part of the ACA regarding pre-existing conditions and he launched into how he’s retired and still works and they take all his money to cover people who don’t pay taxes and (gee, who could he be pointing that finger at?) and he was up on his soapbox thumping his chest like the gloom mongering ass trash he is.

It isn’t that he doesn’t have a point. The system is broken and things need fixed. No one should shell out 70% of monthly income to have health insurance (which they can’t even use because it covers such a small percentage)…But hey, no soapbox here, my stomach is still churning from my dad’s preaching and guilting.

To add to it, new family drama. After the ugly split with my nephew and his fiance, I guess my sister moved in her stoner friends and the girl’s mother and they are all boo hooing over losing Medicaid cos my nephew turned 19 and isn’t in school and of course, the girl living with them is such a stoner she packs around selling weight and I don’t want my kid anywhere near it but then that starts war with my mom because hey, I drink alcohol, so it’s totally the same. Not to mention the sickly stoner’s mom is living in the living room with a porta potty right there so where is my kid supposed to play? With the porta potty or upstairs with the people holding pot or down in the basement smoking it?

So sick of the fucking drama. If I could just move far far away it wouldn’t be an issue. If I could just shake this fucking bipolar monkey and get a damned job and if my brain would just fucking behave and if, if, if…

Nothing like a good chat with dear old dad to bring the bad thoughts to the surface and remind me, apparently, even my own father considers me useless and I should just kill myself rather than his tax dollars pay for my disability because obviously there is nothing wrong with me EXCEPT I HAVE THE BRAIN FUNCTION OF A CARROT HALF THE TIME AND EITHER BURST INTO TEARS OR SARCASTIC ANGER OVER THE STUPIDEST SHIT! All a choice, of course, we all choose to feel this way. Because it’s fun and makes you feel good about yourself.

Bloody hell.

So in addition to being at the shop with a burning stomach ache, I can feel myself going down the rabbit hole which was tugging but thanks to dad, it’s yanking me downward.

I really want the mouse pad that is a target that says “bang head here.”

At What Cost

Posted in anxiety disorders, biolar disorder with tags , , , on August 10, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

So, yeah, I did my time at the shop in the name of bartering for automotive work and help with grocery bills…But then I fetched my kid and she wasn’t with me 3 mins before darting to her friends. Then ten minutes in she is bawling because the older girls were having a sleepover but The Devil Girls claimed she has head lice so she was left out. Five mins after that one of the ringleaders was back and my kid was elated to be graced with her disloyal bullying friend’s presence.

The Devil Girls’ dad yelled at my kid the other day and told her to get her “ass” out of his yard so I got a can of spray paint and put down a thick black line to demonstrate OUR yard from theirs. I told Spook, cross the line, he is within his rights to call you on it. However, if you’re on our side and he yells at you again, I AM calling the landlord and the cops because this is frickin’ ridiculous. REALLY! His eldest was held in the church office Sunday for saying “motherfucker” on the bus toward my kid. People like him are why those of us living in trailer parks are called trailer trash. I gave my kid a boundary, told her if she crosses the line I put down, then she is technically on his lawn and he can protest. Still, in her own yard he has the white trash audacity to start shit. Every single day this entire summer and there’s fuck all I can do about it. I turned his kid in for stealing the mail from my mailbox and called the cops and they all but patted her on the back and said it was ok and mom and dad nodded along.

So in addition to 8 and a half hours of brain bugs (and soon as I said the shop was dead then people started calling and coming in, ewww)…And my kid mouthing and saying she wants a better mom who lets her do whatever she wants and I ruined her life…Then R tells me he needs me at the shop the next two days and frankly, we need food so I can’t really say piss off so I am trapped…

I keep hearing how mentally imbalanced people can lead NORMAL productive lives as long as they take their meds, do therapy, and have a support system BUT THAT IS RUBBISH. I am on the precipice of a total nervous breakdown and people just want more and more from me, because hey, being broke means my mental issues don’t matter and I can ‘tough it out’.

Yet here I am, cringing when a kid or cat touches me because I have zero personal space and wanna scream and run and hide and my brain is on overload and that damned mosh pit in my brain of brain bugs is still rampaging,,,

I need a shower but I’ve got nothing left in me. Everything aches. My brain just wants to sleep forever. I was making headway, the Trintellix was helping, but the minute my anxiety level syrockets and people put me in a position that, yeah, sure, maybe I can muddle through…

But at what cost to the little progress my treatment has made psychiatrically? At what point am I entitled to say, “The price I pay psychologically simply isn’t worth losing months and months of progress in the treatment of my disorder> Oh, right, broke people don’t have the luxury and mentally disordered people don’t have the right.

AT WHAT COST????

I was on the mend and now I am falling back into the abyss but because I got my dates mixed up I am facing disconnection on my power bill (bad credit punishes you for life) which is more financial stress and R expects me to “be a good friend’ and suck it up to help him out even though my car has been fucked up for months and he’s not had a single ten minute jag to take it about and maybe discern the problem even if he’s made two dozen promises. Oh and that’s my fault too for not reminding him, but when I remind him, he gets irked.

I forget the gainfully employed and educated get to make those of us in a smaller sinking boat feel small, blown off, and less important yet totally indebted.

Since my fundraiser to get the roaches exterminated is going so poorly (thank you to who did donate/repost/share!)…I have no choice but to be R’s bitch, and the cost to me is immense and I may actually devolve.

At. What. Cost. When is sacrificing your mental well being and hard won progress an even trade to make sure your kid has food in her belly and a car to get her back and forth to schol cos the ass trash district won’t allow her to ride the bus since we don’t meet the state guidelines in distance for them to be reimbursed (by.2 tenths of a mile.)

How much of myself must I toss down the drain in the name of survival? Because if doing so results in me melting down and being able to offer my daughter nothing,,,

AT WHAT COST???

The Brain Bugs Have Returned

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , , , on July 24, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

I find myself at a loss often to describe what generalized anxiety disorder is like. Best comparison I’ve found is…brain bugs. Yes. Not technical, not pretty, but if you’ve ever been outdoors on a summer night or on a picnic and felt several bugs crawling in your hair or on your skin…THAT. Only it’s inside your brain and not actually on your skin. The bugs are not real, they just feel…so…damned…real.

I had a brief respite because my kid went to live in the sticks for a few days with my dad and his crew yesterday. Amazing how much calmer I am without the life of another human being solely in my hands. But I didn’t escape the kids. R and I saw out in the yard and the kids still came around even when I sent them away. And I interceded at one point because this girl Abigail was being bullied and I really like her. She’s the tween who had supper with Spook one night and saw me getting flustered and actually asked, “Is this too much for you?” I got a soft spot for the nice ones, they are few and far between. As proven by Spook’s brand new bike being ripped off during a brief but mega vicious thunderstorm last week. OF COURSE,DAD, I should have totally gone out into the middle of driving rain and huge bolts of lightning to secure an 80 dollar metal bike. Silly me, thinking even shitty trailer park parents would keep their offspring inside during a driving rain and lightning storm. I suck.

Anyway…I kicked ass yesterday while the spawn was at church. I did laundry, folded 8 baskets, did dishes, cleaned all the cat boxes, swept, mopped, vacuumed, cleaned the bathroom…And then I took my meds right before she got home and by the time she was back…I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Because that’s what happens when I take them together. But if I space them out, I forget one or two of them and all the levels go FUBAR so wtf. And once the sleepiness passed, I got a killer migraine from the bright sunlight so when dad came to fetch her, recrimination rang out in his voice because I looked like I’d been asleep while my kid was down the street playing. Sorry if bright sunlight makes me look disturbed. Migriane didn’t help much either.

Today, because for fucks’ sake, I was still in debt to R, I had to go to the shop Which of course meant I woke at 5 a.m. and couldn’t nod back off so I took a Xanax then dropped out an hour before the alarm and then kept waking every 5 minutes because I was scared of oversleeping and having the texting chihuahua on my ankles. It disturbed me so much, I got up and even got there 15 minutes before I’d promised. Faking joy, of course, because depressed people aren’t allowed. And ya know, I can fake the smiley face or at least amiable silence.

What I cannot ever seem to do is fake my way beyond the brain bug anxiety. It set in after 2 hours and I was itchy and twitchy and my mind was OCD about ‘let me out of here, i need my safe space, please, mercy, uncle, please stop torturing me!” And R doesn’t understand anyone’s anxiety but his own so he was just puttering along while I’m all whip cracking to focus so I can do what I need to do and abscond…While the brain bugs gnaw away at my brain and central nervous system. And while coming home did calm me some…I went back out and found myself in the bright florescent store light, feeling the brain bugs return, making me all itchy and twitchy again. As if the accidentally pink hair doesn’t draw enough attention (never ever accidentally bleach black hair platinumm and apply red dye unless pink is your goal, no no no)…Being all twitchy and looking paranoid like someone about to rob the store cos you need to escape just makes you even more noticeable.

Now I am home and in for the night and it’s not a thousand degrees outside so it’s not a sauna inside and I can just breathe. For now. When I start thinking about my dad being so snotty about me saying I want my kid home by Wednesday evening for her church group and him saying “we’ll see’…My anger issues start bubbling. Because she’s my kid and my word should be law but he and my mother have to usurp me then wonder why I loathe them both. And with her birthday the week of August 7th and everyone having all different plans for her…My anger issues aren’t gonna go away any time soon.

Fortunately, I have the start of school mid August and return to a schedule that cannot be disrupted by grandma and grandpa fun pants because even they’d be held accountable for putting their fun ideas over her schooling…I will cling to that. Yeah, the school clothes and all that is stressful and all the starting activities will make the brain bugs start crawling but…it will also mean I survived another summer with brain bugs, incompetent meds, and a yammering ungrateful spawn…

That is no small thing. She breaks R down, and he’s a narcissist, he should be able to take on the most loud annoying child on the planet. Mine breaks him.

I am so kick ass.

Now I’m gonna go pet the brain bugs. Hey, I said I’m kick ass and I survived my kid all summer. Never said a word about ‘with sanity in tact’.

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.