Archive for the anxiety disorders Category

(Non) Fictional Anxiety

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

Yesterday I started watching the series Shooter. I made it two episodes and HAD to switch to something mindless, in this case, Kevin Can Wait. I almost never ever binge watch sitcoms (outside The Middle, Superstore, Big Bang Theory,and Teachers) but Shooter took me to a suspenseful anxiety inducing place I couldn’t handle.Which, hey, is the point of a suspense thriller type show, right?Means it’s damn good. And yet…My delicate central nervous system kept ringing the panic bells because I can fathom being framed for murder and the system working against you…I’m sort of in a similar situation, minus framed from murder or government conspiracy but still….someone owns me, for all purposes, abuses that, and I end up feeling trapped as if in a prison. So maybe it makes sense this series resonated a little too much and my anxiety receptors were already on triple load, it just caused the system to crash.

I can honestly say, having suffered from panic attacks and anxiety since I was 7 years old, I’m a high strung person and maybe my mom programmed me as she, too, is high strung. But she said her mother suffered through anxiety and that was back in the 60’s prior to all this transferrence and nature versus nurture shit, so maybe it’s genetic. My sister, and my brother (who has a different mom than me and sis) also suffers anxiety. Either way, it’s always been there and it has always been pretty brutal but I noticed after 2000, when I had the reaction to Nardil that landed me a drooling catatonic mess in the psych ward for a week, my anxiety tolerance levels have gone down. Every litttle thing sets off the alarm bells. I used to think it was a combination of the Nardil reaction, then a month later my apartment building caught fire and I had to move in 3 days without a cent to my name…Very stressful and anxiety invoking. After that, I had to give up watching my beloved soap operas because waiting the weekend to find out of Stefano killed Marlena (Days of Our Lives, anyone?) was too anxiety inducing. Whereas prior to these things, I could handle some suspense without freaking. It was more “nervous-cited” as my daughter quotes from My Little Pony. Nervous but excited to find out what happens next.

After those things…It became too much. And as the years passed, it metastasized into paranoia and mistrust and a sense of impending doom that I live with daily. Some days are bearable, others (like today) make me feel like the outlet is overloading and a fire is waiting to happen. After having my daughter, my chemistry changed so much I went through months long bouts of thinking the neighbors were trying to drive me out of my mind with their barking dog tied outside. Illogical? Yep. But the rapid heartbeat, the sweating, the trembling, the sheer sense of terror…it’s all very real every time my disorder picks up another quirk, like hearing sirens and being sure my home is the one on fire. Which hey, I woke to a burning building, so it seems a pretty legit fear…

Today what sparked my anxiety, as well as my fury and disgust, wasn’t waking at 6 in the morning. It wasn’t taking the godawful Vistaril, waiting two hours for it to kick in, then still waking up three hours later. And two hours after that. Nope, that stuff is irritating but it’s become natural (and isn’t that sad that my mental health care professional doesn’t have more concern for my plight? Just sayin’.)

Today’s trigger was being beckoned by His Highness R to his ‘real’ job to wait in the parking lot and get his credit card then go get him a new phone charger. Which he didn’t want me to bring back to him, mind you, just wanted it left at the shop. Now, the place where I got the charger is directly in his path from the real job to the shop, he could have easily been in and out 5 minutes without making me drive 5 miles out of town with a car that shimmies over 30 miles an hour, not to mention using my own gas. R prides himself on being Mr. Spock, so logical, and yet the entire thing was preposterous. And it made me late getting to the shop because he ‘forgot’ he’d told me to be waiting in the parking lot for him. Not to mention for this extra effort he didn’t even offer to buy me a pack of smokes. Pardon me, but his personal cell phone has NOTHING to do with helping at the shop and it damn well could have waited and he could have done it himself.

I feel taken advantage of. Neglected. Disrespected. Am I wrong? Am I the selfish one?

At this point beind so completely under his thumb has me wishing I could just risk broken legs and get money for a different car from a fucking loan shark. This is not worth being under someone’s absolute control and manipulation. And it’s not like it’s new, I’ve been complaining for years then second guessing myself cos I am the one with mental issues and if I am gonna be honest…while I don’t reject people based on their looks or whatever…I can be pretty intolerante of their quirks (all the while expecting them to accept mine) so consider me humbled…But this whole thing was unnecessary and even Kenny said R simply doesn’t want to do anything for himself but go to his jobs and he needs to control me by having me do all these things for him even when it’d be more practical to do it himself. So the fact someone else sees it sort of the way I do means I’m not distorting or operating on hysteria or hormones…

Next Friday cannot come soon enough. I am out of this hell hole, and away from R, hopefully, for 2 weeks and hey, if he can find someone else to come be his indentured servant with empty promises and illogical demands, I’ll adjust my budget so I don’t need him for a damned thing. No one ever died without internet, right? It’s no longer worthwhile, and it is so stressing me out and setting off both anger and anxiety, I am a fuse about to burn to the end and explode the powderkeg. Fuck a different car. I’ll drive mine til it falls in the middle of the road into pieces then I will start doing a lot of walking. Being run around like a minion is too much. Maybe for a decent wage and benefits I could swallow my pride for the 4 months of stability I get every year but this has gone too far.

Feel free to comment if you think I am being a brat. I don’t mind reality checks as long as they’re fair. But the ship sailed on fairness about four years ago when I had a meltdown and he told me to stand on my own two feet so we didn’t speak for 5 months. Maybe it’s time to make the sacrifices and stand on my own two feet. And he can damn well do the same because without a minion, he’s gonna have to start doing stuff for himself just as much as I might have to give up some extras like internet.

Regaining some calm, and some self esteem, somehow seems more important than binge watching though I’d prefer to keep rotting my brain with binge watching. I learn way more from TV shows than I ever did at school. Ya know, when they aren’t triggering my “the sky is falling!” issues.

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Hives For The Hellidays

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , on November 21, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

In spite of a churning gut and back breaking cramps I was forced awake at 5:45 a.m. by Vex kitten for it was face eating eardrum shattering crying time for him. My kid had already disrupted my sleep by waking me up to get in my bed so by then I was good and agitated and unwilling to take any Xanax that might make me fall back to sleep….So I gave up on the sleep thing even if I held tight to the warm blankie thing.

Today was a big day for me, errands wise. Trash had to be gathered and put outside. Then I had three baskets of wet laundry to drag to the car and bring to the shop to dry. Then I had to hit the mega supermarker that I can’t fucking stand to get several things for our family fangsgiving shindig Thursday. Which resulted in such a bad stomach I could have spent an hour in the bathroom but no, because now I am on “get a different car time’ which means yes even my stress related digestive issues come in last place.

Now the hives have started!

To make sure I didn’t get any sort of peace, the service engine soon light came on in the car!!!!

And my mechanic is still out of state on his other job, not that he’d have time to help me anyway and God knows my dad is useless. I tried to tell him last night about MAngo dying and Shady being injured and he just kept talking about how cute their stray kittens are….I have NO support system here. I am to the breaking point where I tell them all to fuck off. I can’t sleep, my stomach is upset whether I eat or not, nothing is being fixed or replaced as promised no matter how much servitude I put in, I am breaking out in bloody hives….and to add insult to injury I will go tell this to the doc nurse (next week, I think) and she will treat me with less dignity than the drive thru clerk who hands me my fries and tells me to have a nice day.

Am I stressed and hormonal and annoyed? Fuck yeah.

It doesn’t make me wrong and it sure as hell doesn’t change the bizarre physical reactions to all this anxiety and it sure as fuck does not make the people around me pay an iota of attention to my spiraling downward and when they do finally notice….they’ll just shake their heads and cluck their tongues and talk about how they knew all along I would melt down and how poor Spook deserves a better mother. And I can predict this because it’s what they’ve done and said my whole life.

It’s not an assumption or paranoia when time after time, the reaction is just the same. Sometimes, even well meaning “we love you” people are shitty.

At this juncture my only saving grace is that I have not been violent with anyone. So let’s just hope my prescription coverage doesn’t do away with mood stabilizers and I can keep convincing myself these people aren’t worth the prison time that would come with bashing them upside the head with a Z Whacker.

Lamictal may not help depression but it does a fine job of sparing ignorant people the ass beating they so richly deserve. They should thank me for taking my pills.

*No homicidal urges here, just hormones and anxiety and frustration but really…They should thank me for taking my mood stabilizer. Sometimes it’s the only thing that keeps me from at least whipping out the verbal chainsaw and cutting down the bridge then burning it to the ground. My feelings may be extreme but they count and being discounted constantly….I really think my self control and the effectiveness of lamictal should be lauded.

Suckage Level Critical

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

So as if my own mental problems weren’t crippling enough…I got a call from my kid’s teacher yesterday informing me there was an arm wrestling incident in the cafeteria and my daughter was one of the ringleaders, or well, participants. She was viewed doing it, then lied to the teacher and started bawling and denying, so the teacher had to leave her alone for 5 minutes to calm down. Only then did Spook fess up but she started crying some more about being a follower and she can’t help herself. She was just going along because devil girl J told her she would if she was really her friend. (Um, could there be a better example of a follower than my daughter?)

The teacher was disturbed, saying that it seems Spook is overwhelmed with too many thoughts all at once and thus it makes it hard for her to concentrate, focus, and perform accordingly as well as make good choices.

SOUND FAMILIAR, ANYONE????

I had been expecting a call because Spook told me the other day a boy wanted to kiss her during lunch hour and I told her…you will get in trouble. She said she didn’t care and at this point, I’ve gone school of hard knocks with parenting. But ARM WRESTLING??? Kids rough house, sure, but the way the teacher made it sound this was some major episode. And I’ve seen my daughter at work with the emotional manipulation when she’s caught doing something wrong. She will bring up something that happened 4 years ago to draw attention away from her wrong doing and paint herself as a victim. I wish I were making this up, but I even asked my uber critital-and grandchild coddling mother- about this behavior in Spook and she, too, has seen it. That’s no small deal, my mom admitting I’m not being a critical monster and my child has some…issues.

I was honestly at a loss what to say. I’ve been feeling overwhelmed as is lately and while Spook’s got some stuff going on, for the most part, until this year, it rarely went on at school. Now the school is seeing the behaviors and instead of suggesting counseling or what not, when i said I didn’t know what to do….the teacher said, “What do you do…” UM…Not helpful.

So I steeled myself for dealing with Spook when she got home, which these days means, turning on the sound recorder on the phone, because she is a ticking time bomb when told no or caught doing wrong. And I wasn’t wrong. She went OFF. I tried to talk to her, empathize (without condoning her behavior), tell her we’re a lot alike in that we have trouble processing too much at once and we need to be besties as a support system….I may as well have been talking to a wall. She just blew me off, blamed it all on J and “I’m a follower, I can’t help it”, then when she asked for a cookie…and I said have some fresh watermelon instead, you’re wound up enough…

She started hitting me, snarling, trying to break the computer, the phone. She was like a rabid animal, but she was also….smiling while doing all this. And all I could do was hold her off with an arm and try to talk calmly but when she went after the cat’s throat, I grabbed the phone and threatened to call 911. I am no longer joking, I fear my child when she gets like that. And she started saying nooo, don’t call the police…but kept snarling…She knows she is doing wrong. What I can’t discern is if she simply doesn’t care or if it’s like much of my aggressive behavior (before mood stabilizers) where it just sort of had to burn itself out before it passed and after it passed I felt exhausted and vulnerable and disgusted with myself…

She eventually calmed down but there was no remorse on her part. She said sorry, but it was as hollow as an apology could be. And she snuck a cookie behind my back and then tried to lie about it but ha, she kissed me and I could smell the mint on her breath. She has no compulsion about lying. And every time, it’s “Fine, I lied, but you told me no and it makes me mad when you tell me no.”

My stomach ache just got worse after that incident, plus knowing R was going to stop by…But at least she calmed down. Her attitude didn’t improve much, she kept putting her feet up on my chair and yanking my hair then when I said ouch, please stop, she got indignant like it was my fault for not having a scalp made of cast iron. How she can go from such a sweet kid to such a…meanie so quick is baffling but then again, I’ve seen it in myself so I can’t throw stones. Difference is, and it’s a big one for me- I have ALWAYS felt bad after any of my tirades. She has no guilt and I do find that disturbing. I am not expecting her to grasp full blown grown up guilt but even at 8, there should be some inkling of conscience, especially when causing someone else pain physically or emotionally, and she has none. Her only sympathy is for herself.

It pains me to admit this. I wish I was just a petty mentally trashed parent making her kid look bad to absolve myself of whatever but others see this behavior in her, so it isn’t just me. I may not be parent number one worldwide, but my kid has some issues going on that aren’t my fault. Whether it’s ADHD or bipolar or hell, it could be bipolar with the attentiion deficit as a secondary…But she’s only 8 and the professionals won’t label her anything other than ADHd,if that. It doesn’t excuse me having to live in fear that my 8 year old is going to physically attack me, and our belongings, on a daily basis. So first thing today i called the pediatrician’s office and left a note for the nurse about the ADHD paperwork and what the teacher said about Spook’s issues with focus. They have got to do something to help her, and help me. There is no planet in which a child hitting the parent is acceptable.

I sort of got lucky last night inasmuch as R didn’t stay more than ten minutes, he stopped to give me money for gas and such so I can continue to do his bidding at the shop. And I tried ten different ways to tell him I can’t keep this up and he just blew right by me, telling me what a big help I am, and I am going to end up with a better car and blah blah blah…And there he is talking about working 13 hours a day, plus spending two hours a night helping family and friends with their broken stuff and he’s worn down so I guess I didn’t have the gall to tell him about my impending breakdown. Even if I did, he’d dismiss me. I tried to talk to him about Spook’s behavior, seeking advice from a fellow parent, but he blew that off, too. So the question is…If he cares so little about me except as someone to do his bidding…why am i so loyal as to basically wear myself to the bone and end up hospitalized?

Something’s got to give. I just hope it doesn’t result in my child being taken away because I can’t control her or me in a straightjacket because everyone around me can’t grasp that mental illness is as serious as physical illness. No one would fault me for needing a few days to recover from even an outpatient surgery like an appendectomy. Yet my brain is on overload, my health is being impacted, and I am made to feel like a lazy monster because I need to stop the world a few days and reboot.

My hatred of the world is metastasizing as quickly as my mind is disintegrating. The world deserves it, though. I don’t.Trying your hardest should not result in being broken down and destroyed psychologically. It just shouldn’t.

Crumbling

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , on November 8, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

It’s started to happen, the telltale signs are adding up to major impairments in my daily functioning and health. It’s always like this. Tis why a couple months back when R proposed this whole “help me with the shop and I’ll buy you a car thing” I wrote the post called “I’ve Got This…til I don’t.” And let me tell you, we are closer to the don’t than do part now.

It’s only been a couple of months, less than twenty hours out of my entire week, really mind numbing technically low level stress stuff. I could pretty much do it asleep and for no more business than there is, I actually could likely sleep most days. And yet…my stress and anxiety level, as usual, are taking a toll on my physical health, my sleep, everything.

Monday just the thought of returning to dish time had me throwing up with anxiety. Last night I abruptly woke in the middle of the night and spent four hours running to the bathroom with stomach issues, and it was nearly alarm time when I finally did get back to sleep, still in stomach churning agony.

It’s not the flu. It’s not my meds. It’s not even a newsflash. It’s like this every single time I try to “work” and interact in the dish. I start to melt down and crumble. If you’ve never had a truly bad stress stomach ache, lucky you. This is misery.

And trying to deal with being a single mom with an issue laden child is not making my quest to be what society expects me to be less agonizing. i’ve done some major soul searching, not to mention every known “you are a weak loser, grow up” self bullying speech and it all boils down to the same thing it always has, the same thing that landed me on disability in the first place.

They stopped giving E for effort a long time ago so it feels like it’s all for nothing. I am burning myself out, once again feeling trapped in subpar mental health care, making do with a medication that actually has some pretty freaky side effects I hadn’t noticed til I ran out and missed a couple of doses due to being broke. I had no idea psych meds could mimick the sensation of dandruff and head lice. My scalp actually feels…normal. I once again got caught up in my own desperate desire and need to take whatever anti depressant combo kept me upright, side effects be damned.

Trintellix did pretty well during summer. I wasn’t dancing in the street but I was feeling much stronger and functional. But even with the doseage increases, it’s not been enough to ward off the seasonal affect depression and none of the 28-ish anti depressants I’ve ever been on has done an iota toward helping with anxiety and panic.

To have to admit one more med has failed to withstand seasonal affect, before the worst has even started, annoys me and frustrates me. But then, being up half the night with a nervous stomach and physical symptoms from sheer stress and anxiety mortifies me. If I had a physical ailment that had triggers and I ignored them and put myself in pain, people would call me a moron. Yet because my ailments are mental, I am supposed to run myself into the ground, a psych ward, or death, and for what? To make ignorant society more comfortable because they lack the emotional intelligence to distinguish between someone being lazy and someone being incapacitated by their disorders?

I don’t have any answers today. I think R is coming by tonight to look at the dryer again, and frankly, company is the last thing I want to endure. I’d be fine with a nap while my kid is at church as opposed to pasting on a stilted smile and excusing myself to the bathroom every ten minutes, doubled over in pain. I’d think I had a major illness if this hadn’t happened so many times before, always in response to trying to live in the petri dish. Thousands of dollars of tests multiple times to be told I have a nervous stomach and need to keep my stress level low. Unfortunately, the doctors did not write that R/X to be given to the idget world around me.

I’m going to keep toughing it out, but I haven’t had a solid night’s sleep in so long, I am amazed I haven’t gone insane. I even tripled my melatonin to 10 mg like nurse doc said and it doesn’t keep me down. I don’t know how long anyone is expected to stay afloat on little restful sleep, constant physical symptoms of anxiety, unsupportive people making more and more demands of you…That’d be a stretch even for someone with no mental illness, money problems, or children. Or maybe I am just this weak. IDK.

Fuck that. I am anything but weak. Hear me now, Borg society; I WILL NOT BE ASSIMILATED. Mental illness is as grueling as any physical illness so fuck your collective mentality.

Sunny Side Up

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , on November 7, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

So yesterday’s post was a total yet honest downer…And I’m not gonna be doing cartwheels and proclaiming to be all cured because the sun emerged for the first time in days thus my mood lifted a milimeter out of the gutter…

Today I would like to be nauseating and point out the positive side of having an anxiety disorder of mammoth proportions.

Why, yes, I am insane to say such a thing!

And honestly, it’s not a positive but in the interest of being all fair and sunshine spewing…I’ll roll my eyes and say if I have to find a sunny side up about anxiety disorder…

It is that my uber sensitivity to light and sound and well, everything, while resulting in panic attacks during which my heart thunders, I start sweating (and nervous sweat reeks, btw) and my stomach churns painfully and I feel like a bag is over my head preventing me from breathing…Not a great way to wake up but when it happened at 5:45 a.m. this morning…

I’ve been awake since and my heartbeat still hasn’t really regulated back to normal. Of course, medical equipment would likely prove this to simply be all in my head and my vital signs would be within normal range but mentally…I can still feel my heart pounding a little too hard, my sweat level a little too high, my stomach a little too knotted up, my breathing a little too stilted…Even if it doesn’t register on medical equipment, the loss of equilibrium that comes with a panic attack is…indescribable.

Now okay, being wide awake and not glued to the snooze button is actually a good thing.But the fact an alarm needs to cause me a major wake-up-with-the-house-on-fire panic episode to get to this awake state is not just sad, it’s bloody scary. In every sense.

What caused this epic panic?

Well, this will explain just how deep my anxiety disorder runs. I usually fall asleep to a playlist on the computer, Deadly Women, Forensic Files, Dateline, et al…Nothing too stimulating, usually stuff I have watched/heard a hundred times. It is what soothes me so my brain will slow down and I can rest. Unfortunately this last playlist…I missed an MP3 file that was accidentally placed there.

So I woke unceremoniously to pelle K’s metal version of “Down Under” and it sent me into rapid meltdown.

It’s weird because I love his music, I love that song, original and his version, but for the last couple of years…I’ve found myself overstimulated by music even when awake, let alone being jarred from sleep, so to have this blast out at me after hours of quietly narrated true crime shows…It was a jolt.

And it’s why even at my best, I often can’t listen to music for more than an hour or so because I get so overly stimulated that my brain starts turning what has always been my refuge into one more trigger that sends me over the edge.

To have people-especially professionals- think that this is simply a mind state I have chosen is insulting and maddening.

My disorders have robbed me of every vestige of normal life. Because of my issue with crowds and overstimulation, I can’t even go to concerts or bars to hear live music. Now because I am so easily overstimulated I can’t even enjoy “canned”music at home. As if I would ever choose to be robbed of the ONE thing that helped me survive a miserably bullied teenage life. The ONE thing that has always kept me afloat when all else failed. Now it’s become a negative factor and it pisses me the fuck off.

But since society dictates finding a positive in everything…I know what song to set as alarm tone from now on.

Oh, wait. It doesn’t actually work like that. No, I can hear a rocking song play ten times through snooze a palooza and it doesn’t even jar my depressive brain. But stick it on a video playlist and bam, equlibrium blown for the day.

Joy, joy. Next disability review when asked the repetitive ‘how do your conditions impact your daily functioning’ maybe I will just give them a copy of this post.

Because I am pretty sure when even the things you love trigger your disorders, that is the very definition of a disability.

Anxiety can kiss my ass, sunny side up.

Swallowing Pride…In The Name Of Love

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , on October 20, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

First….this post has nothing to do with U2. I really am not into that band. For me, they rank up with Rush-ughhh. (sorry,Mr. M!)…but their song did remind me of what tonight was like for me. (***Disclaimer…I recognize the contribution both of those bands have made to the music world over the years, it’s still not the poison I’d pick.)

By some miracle I staved off the disgruntled shop customer to not take their business elsewhere til Monday (fuck you, asshole postal service,don’t tell me it’s delayed without an explanation!) Like, literally, 20 minutes before I left, all the while wishing they wouldn’t call and ask and me have to deliver bad news, again…But I guess by being sincerely obsequious (is it an oxymoron? Because, yes, I gushed gratitude for their understanding but it wasn’t at all insincere), I bought a day or two for ASS TRASH POSTAL SERVICE to do their damned job properly…(After I sent a pissy email to the ebay seller, oops, what a bitch I am!). Stress makes me panic and panic makes me an enormous bitch beast. Anyway, I miraculously held off that dragon.

Tonight my plan was to have my kid inside, bathed, and fed by 5:30 p.m.

Man makes plans, God, sacred pegacorn, and the flying spaghetti monster laugh.

I kept wondering why neighbor kids were showing up to play in their Halloween costumes..only to be informed there some ‘safe trick or treat’ shindig tonight. Which I had no notice of prior to 20 minutes before it began. And one of Spook’s friends asked if she could go and I said, yeah, long as I talk to an adult for approval. Well, that mom said no. Never mind all I do for these kids and me having them all here giving their parents a break…no, they can’t do fuck all to reciprocate. Then my kid started in. And I don’t do ‘on the spot’. In theory, spontaneous is amazing. In practice with mood swings and panic disorders….it’s terrifying and threatening.

I told her I’d research the local paper on line for details and consider it. THEN I found the article and it said last years between 5p.m. and 8 p.m OVER 1000 KIDS ATTENDERD. Which means at least 1/4 at least had 2 parents with them thus raising th crowd number…And I freaked. I told myself, noooooooooooooooo, you’re gonna end up in the rubber room.

Then my kid raised the ante and asked if her two devil girl friends could come with us. And I felt shitty cos I know (assholes they are) their parents have only one car and the mom had it at work so going with us was their only chance to attend…I said okay. Then wondered why I said okay.

I took 2mg Xanax (No, it doesn’t make me sleepy or impair me, not after 25 years) and the kids costumed up and I took them…Relieved to find a parking space I could easily escape, and also, the line was only 30 people long. I was anxious, I was terrified of losing one of 3 kids, but I was also giggling and taking pics of the Halloween displays…I overheated, nearly choked on a beloved fruit flavored Tootsie Roll, and could have done cartwheels when we finally ‘escaped’…But it wasn’t all terrible. It was stressful to an extent but I tried to bolster myself with the 3 girls’ enthusiasm.

I even let them play in the yard an hour after we got back so they could check out and swap their candy.

Then I had a generic ‘rita to steady my nerves and help me sleep because, dammit, I earned it. I have been so damned strong, so determined…I will pay eventually, but right now…I put my kid ahead of my own needs or likes, I even managed to conquer my own terror and panic for her enjoyment…No resentment. Just…

WOW! I fucking did this!!!!! Not just with my kid, but with two extras in tow! How awesome am I?

I recognize this for what it is. An aberrant manic-mixed episode where I amaze myself with my uber functionality and think WOO HOO I AM BLOODY WELL CURED!!!!

But I’m not. I am dancing on a razor’s edge. Not pessimistic. Realistic.

But, for once….I was tough enough to put my kid’s needs first and just.do.it. I will pay the price this weekend and probably be unable to stumble out of bed beyond going pee and feeding my kid but…for tonight…

I felt like Wonderwoman. It was a good feeling. I just wish mental illness gave a damn and would let it stick the landing.

(Creepy pix to follow…at some point)

The A Word

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , on September 30, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Yep. Another post involving The A Word. The dreaded anxiety. Free floating today. I don’t know why, perhaps hangover the week in the petri dish even if it was a shorter week thanks to many appointments for my kid and me. (My kid and I? Whatever.) Still, it was a trying week just the same, possibly because while the appointments got me out of the shop, I was actually dealing with other, far more public and populated places. It definitely took a toll.

Fortunately, not so much as to cripple me today. Still managed to drag my ass for a couple of yard sales (in part due to my kid’s relentless nagging, I think without it, I probably would have said forget about it.) We also went to three different stores for various household supplies. By the last store, I was at the end of my rope with traffic and noise and people. Especially a tense moment at the last place, which had nothing whatsoever to do with me. Some woman jumped this dude who came in on a motorcycle and I guess he was going too fast and almost ran into her and her little girl. As I have renumerated, I don’t handle confrontation at all, even when it’s nothing to do with me. I seriously thought these two were going to come to blows and it set off every panic receptor in my body. FLIGHT, FLIGHT, FLIGHT. Sadly, I’ve got too little fight left in me except for the big picture stuff. Survival and all.

There has been the added drama of my kid’s social life. First I get a note from S’s mom asking if S can stay the night with Spook, she has no phone anymore so we have to write notes. So I said okay, after 5 p.m. so I can get some stuff done. Then came the devil girls (they are oddly now allowed to play with my kid since I became the neighborhood spokesperson, getting all the kids back on the school bus route) and of course, my kid can’t play with more than one or 2 at a time and there was drama. Name calling. Thievery. S doesn’t want to stay now, and I guess she told her mom to say no and that upset my kid, who then said she didn’t want S to stay, she wanted the devil girls. I have no idea what is going on now. I will stand by my word if S does show up to stay, but otherwise…Enough fucking drama. My nerves don’t need it.

I am stressing because our kittens, Adelitas and Sachel, will not start eating solids and their shitty mom Cleo has declared them weaned and refuses to feed them. I got Kitten Chow, moistened it with water, with warm milk. They aren’t interested and I am terrified they are going to starve themselves. So I’ve taken to using a medication syringe to feed them tiny bits of the Nutri-gel, in hopes it will stimulate their appetite while nourishing them. I don’t want to lose my two little Manx kitties. Well, Sachel is a bobtail but Addy is pure Manx, not even a nub of a tail. Beautiful, sweet lil babies.

I was further distressed by a visit from stepmonster. That beast had to the nerve to gush to me how their neighbor’s car broke down so they loaned her one of their 5 vehicles. Yet these people couldn’t lift a finger when my last 3 cars went belly up. Can’t help their own fucking family, but help a damned neighbor they’re not related to. And oh, supposedly it’s cos she’s a single mom with a toddler but I know the fucking truth. It’s because she has a job and with my dad, that’s all that has ever mattered. You don’t work, you’re dirt. It doesn’t matter the reason. You could be in a coma and he’d expect you to have a job. More than being hurt, it just pissed me off. They didn’t give a damn when I was stranded, with their granddaughter and they had extra vehicles. I haven’t had any sort of accident or speeding ticket in 25 years. Last ticket I had was when Spook was an infant and it was for a stupid seatbelt violation. It’s not like I’m a terrible driver. They’re just fucking rude and cruel.

I may have my issues with my mom and sister’s zoo-esque lifestyle living together like a commune but when I had no car, my mom came through letting me have back the one I gave her, then giving me the old one Dad had passed onto hers. I just don’t get my dad and stepmonster sometimes. Everyone seems to like them but the way they treat me and Spook is rather monstrous. They’re still taking food to my mom and sister’s crew (they usually make my sis clean their house to earn it, but they don’t offer me that option, because stepmonster prefers my sister’s cleaning to mine and hey, fair enough, whatever) but mom and sis have triple the income I have, they get food stamps, and still, Dad helps them out more than us.

And don’t think my kid, even at 8, hasn’t noticed how little the whole family helps us while helping the other side so much. “I’m sorry you’re not Grandpa and Grandma’s favorite child, Mom.” FFS. Do these people not see how that belittles me in my child’s eyes? Of course, it doesn’t much impact her opinion of them, because hey,sometimes they take her places or buy her stuff or in my mom’s case, she shovels 4 cupcakes her way every other hour. What’s to not like when you’re 8.

The saving grace is that I have long been an outside in my own family, i’m pretty used to it. And taking any help from my dad’s faction is akin to taking out a loan from a loanshark, even when you’re paid up, you’re still having it held over your head. Not worth it.

I was also treated from two seperate sides on donor sightings around town. I don’t know why they bother, I don’t care if the man lives or dies. Hopefully he lives in agony until he’s a hundred as punishment for abandoning all 3 of his kids and blaming the moms instead of owning his own asshole-i-ness. Someone swears they saw him working at a gas station here in town. Well, good for him, maybe the state will enforce the child support at some point. He was also spotted at the hospital and frankly, I hope he has an STD. Yeah, I’m evil. And I barely think of the man until people start bringing him up and of course, they’re all outraged at his shitty treatment of Spook and the fact he blames it all on me. As stepmonster pointed out, he saw her and dad with Spook out in public multiple times and he didn’t even cast a longing look to his child, he actually turned away, didn’t even attempt to talk to her. And she was with them, so he can’t play the “Niki will start a scene, that crazy bitch” card.

In some cases, it’s less denial and more apathy that keeps me feeling less…volatile and spiteful. If I don’t hear about him, I forget he even exists for the most part. Wishing him ill is just me lowering myself to his level, but at some point the emotions do get the better of me and I lash out in tiny, petty ways. I’m a lowly human. To my credit, at least on the two occasions we encountered him in public, I made no scene and I didn’t punch him. I mean, if I’m so volatile and intimidating, that would be the expected response, right? But I didn’t. Because I’ve grown as a person, in spite of shitty circumstances and a misbehaving brain.

I lost the med lottery today. And it’s weird. I ate first, took my meds, ate a little afterward. And still got slammed with nausea and a headache and grogginess, not to mention acid reflux. And I had the audacity to do my usual and lay down in my dark bedroom waiting for it to pass and Spook’s posse came in and accused me of falling asleep and not supervising my kid. I was not asleep, ffs. I am able to lay down and close my eyes without nodding off 99.9% of the time. Nothing gets my dander up like a false accusation. Especially from a bunch of mouthy brats.

I am feeling better now, though 0.5 mg Xanax barely took the edge off the A word. I guess this is my new norm. I wonder if the dual anti depressant therapy could be heightening the anxiety, that is known to happen. But going into seasonal affective disorder, I can’t afford to cut back the anti depressants. Oh, and that’s one more stressor, my Medicare drug plan stuff came and they’ve changed the forumulary covering even fewer brand drugs, and they’ve made it clear they intend to to switch all of us to a similar drug that is cheaper. Which means before 2018 I’ve got to get the nurse doc’s office on a waiver so they can’t take Trintellix away from me. I am all for cheaper as long as the med has the same effect. But I’ve tried their idea of “similar” and none of them worked. If they yank out the one that helps I am screwed.

So all things considered…I guess I have many reasons to be anxiety ridden and to have spiteful or fearful feelings. And even if it’s not justified, it’s still real and it’s still a pain in the ass.

Social security disability reviews always ask for examples of how my disorders interfere with my ability to lead a normal, quality life.

The more proper question is, how don’t they?