Archive for the depression Category

The 7 Day Disconnect Ends

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , on August 20, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Our internet is fixed finally. Sorta. It keeps going up and down and the tech told me it could just be the weather, we had a wicked thunderstorm this morning. But the phone is working and the internet half ass works, it is never down more than a minute or two. Annoying but better than what we for 7 days. NOTHING. Oh, I had my phone data but all my kid does is stream youtube so that would have burned 2 gigs. I allowed myself only to post prewritten posts to spare the data. (Geesh, it’s gone down 5 times since I started TRYING to write this, wtf Frontier????)

I’d like to say a 7 day net purge cured all my mental issues but alas, it did not. I am battling them more than ever. Waking up multiple times a night. Constant anxiety and paranoia. Hitting snooze in the morning because getting up is too hard. Barely the energy to refill ice cube trays and run minimum errands in the petri dish. I thought last year was my worst year but this year is quickly surpassing it, mental health wise. If this NP doesn’t put me on a double antidepressant regime before the seasonal depression sets in, I am probably going to end up hospitalized. No one can shut down this much without it biting them on the ass eventually.

To my credit today, I bathed and cooked a meal for my kid and myself. That was a battle. I still need to feed the outdoor cats again and take out trash and get her into a bath. Once again, I am looking forward to bedtime. Which won’t hold because I am almost out of melatonin with B6 and the only place to get it is where the donor works. That’s a powder keg situation for me, especially after Spook drew me a picture of a heart with a hole in it and I asked why and she said that was where her dad used to be until he left…Knowing how much he hurts her really enrages me. He thinks it’s all about him and me and that has NOTHING to do with it anymore. I was over that about 3 weeks after he bailed. But I never let go of my hope that at some point he’d grow the hell up and be a father to her. Proof I am borderline delusional, I guess. I know I shouldn’t let his presence psych me out. Hell, 6 weeks ago I was in a better mental state and went in there even though he was working. I don’t think the NP has a clue how fucked up things have gotten for me over the last couple of months. And her resistance to dual therapy kind of tells me she doesn’t much care about my progress, just impressing her overseer with how few meds she prescribes. That’s a sad statement about a psych care center, ain’t it? More worried about pleasing your boss than doing your patient some good? Not like I want more pills to take, but I do need to get out of this black haze that covers my every thought.

I guess I didn’t wear a good enough mask at the family thing Sunday night. My dad called and asked if I was pissed off cos I looked mad. Well, bees were buzzing near my eyelashes and bugs were eating me alive and I was itchy and covered in welts and it was hot which makes me sweat and my sweat makes me break out and itch more…I wasn’t thrilled about being there, no, but I tried to put on the fake mask and get through it. I suppose I failed. I asked my sister if I seemed mad to her and she said no and agreed it was just annoying with all the bugs and bees.

My mom has spinal stenosis and is waiting to hear back from the spinal surgeon. She is terrified she is going to end up paralyzed. I hope they can at least get her out of pain, she’s already talking about wanting to die rather than live in that much pain.

Which of course makes me feel shitty for worrying about my ‘head problems’ because according to the entire field, it’s just ‘behavioral health’ now, implying that behavior modification can somehow fix mental health disorders. That is what the term says to me. Whoever came up with it needs smacked with a rotting mackeral. It’s as bad as any stigma. Surprises my ass trash center isn’t using that title. Thankfully it’s still psychiatric health. Though the current regime may change that, especially since they merged with the big hospital from the state capitol. I think calling it behavioral is going to keep a lot of people from admitting they have a mental health problem and a lot of people will avoid getting help because they think it’s their fault their thoughts are distorted. Very dangerous. I admit some of my behaviors could be changed, it might make a minimal improvement, but for the most part…I am chemically imbalanced and no amount of behavior modification is going to change that or help it. Implying otherwise is downright cruel and ignorant.

Did anyone miss my long rants? I know, I posted a few, but this one is coming to you live, not hours after the fact. Live insanity for all to enjoy.

I used to say I don’t suffer from insanity, I enjoy every minute of it. Now that I an inching closer to true insanity, I am not so sure about that.

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Slipping Sanity

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , on August 18, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Babylon Files-weekend edition

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , on August 18, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Friday August 16th
Feeling high strung. Again. Hives, indecisiveness, inability to even feed myself when I am hungry. Saving grace is at least my current med regime does not make me sick if I take it without food. I have zero desire to revisit the lithium nausea and pukefest days.
Itchy ear again. Who is talking about me? Damn my mother for tainting my brain with idiotic superstitions. It’s fucked up that I embrace the number 13 and black cats without superstition but these idiotic nose or ear itches drive me paranoid.
I settled on microwave scrambled eggs with cheese for brunch. That took a lot of energy out of me, believe it or not. Making choices is exhausting.
I am so jumpy the cat knocked a box over and I jumped, literally. When I say I am sensitive to noise and easily startled, I am not being dramatic.
I feel like I am crawling out of my skin with anxiety. It borders on perpetual panic. My ONLY TRUE PEACE comes after 8 p.m. when I know I am free of phone call threats and potential visitors. The main threat being my father and his unannounced visits and lectures. The man is gonna drive me to the looney bin even if I haven’t heard from him in almost 5 days. He’s still pissed I defended my kid against his ‘idiot’ insult. Sucks to be him, the silent treatment forever would suit me fine.

3:18 p.m. and I am dying to rid myself of the torture device called a bra. The unannounced visits from family and my kid’s playmates are why I don’t even feel comfortable in my own home doing my own thing. I used to. Moving to Armpit under daddy gloom monger’s thumb changed that. One thing about winter. You’re under so many layers people don’t notice a lack of proper undergarments and you can skip them if it suits your mood. Tank tops…not so much. And yeah, he has said something about me revealing too much. My question is, why is my dad looking at my boobs? Eww.
Irrational thoughts, 101. Paranoia just to go around the corner to the bathroom off the kitchen. It’s out of my safe space but also, it seems every time I go to the bathroom, the phone rings, someone knocks, or Spook beckons. Amazing the tension and anxiety even have my bodily functions still, well, functioning.
Sat August 17
Little bits of happiness. I got an alert to and article about Motionless In White and Halestorm performing with Alice Cooper. I love all three of them. Even though my anxiety levels have made it damn near impossible to enjoy music, I enjoyed the article and the live clip. Lizzy Hale’s story about a slumber party where her music failed to impress her pop loving friends and it just…made me nostaligic. I was metal as fuck and few others were so I didn’t fit, that was for sure. And it didn’t matter because I loved the music that moved me, not just what was popular and everyone liked it only for that reason.
TV time
Been binging the hell out of NCIS:New Orleans since the internet went down. (7 fucking days for service, ridiculous FRONTIER!!!!) It amuses me because the actor who plays LaSalle was on American Gothic as a kid, Caleb. it’s funny seeing him all grown up now. It was cool when Paige Turco appeared as Pride’s wife. She fought to become “Caleb’s” guardian on Gothic.
I met Scott Bakula once. When I was waiting tables and he was in the state visiting his wife’s family. He was very nice about signing autographs on the back of the paper placemats the restaurant had. I was the only with the balls to approach him. Figured worst he could do would say go to hell. Prediagnosis and proper meds, I wasn’t so high strung and fearful of everything. Not exactly a ringing endorsement for how helpful getting ‘professional help’ was for me. Now I am scared of everything.
Not to wear out the TV talk but I gotta say one of the things I love most about CSI and NCIS franchises is how they have these small but like family close teams. It’s like family, only you choose the people you can tolerate. I am envious of that, as much as I do like to keep to myself. I always wanted to find my tribe. It could still happen, I suppose. Ya know, if I ever get an actual doctor who can get me off the panxiety train and on a dual antidepressant regime. The conservative nazis are NOT helping me. Hard to make friends when you’re terrified of people because your brain is sending red alerts 24=7 that everything is a viable threat.
Sunday August 18
Watching NCIS:New Orleans season 3 finale. My anxiety climbs with suspenseful shows with characters I like in peril. This was the reason I had to give up horror movies and soap operas. But I am too curious about the ending to let the anxiety stop me, even if it means sporting hives.
Also have a cookout at my dad’s tonight to celebrate my kid and her cousin’s birthdays. Not looking forward to more lectures by my dad about people without jobs. He doesn’t believe anyone is too disabled to work, it’s all character flaw. I get so sick of hearing it. These family shindigs would be much easier if I could go drunk and stay drunk but with a kid in tow, I can’t do that. So I will suffer through it, even if it throws off my evening soothing ritual of watching MASH. And they are starting it so late in the evening that it will throw off my kid’s bedtime, too. Being at the mercy of others is misery.
My stomach is rioting, my anxiety skyrocketing. Less than an hour til the family shindig and I am filled with dread. Frankly, I just don’t feel like talking to people or well, seeing people. My entire focus will be on choking down the food, ignoring the gut goblins, and surviving til we can gracefully bow out and come home for bedtime. I keep thinking things are going to get better, at least how I feel mentally, but it’s not happening so I have to question the Zoloft. Of course, I am only on week two at the higher dose and it’s not maxed out but my hopes for it helping with my sleep and anxiety are shot to hell. I woke up four different times last night, in panic attacks, barely able to breathe, thoughts racing.
It really gets old feeling beaten down by your own mind on a daily basis.

OFIF-Of fuck, It’s Friday

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , on August 16, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Others say, TGIF, Thank Goodness It’s Friday. Not me. My dad does not work weekends and since my home phone is down with the internet, he will likely just darken my doorstep randomly to rant at me. We are still on thin ice because I chewed them out, calmly, for calling my kid an idiot. They will never accept responsibility that they were in the wrong. I still can’t wrap my head around a 72 year old man name calling a ten year old and telling her to grow up. So while everyone else embraces the weekend, I have always dreaded them to some extent because that lot darkens my doorstep and further stains my soul. Now I am responsible for there being bugs outdoors by the trash. OMG, Morgue can’t control the natural order of mother nature, it must be my fault. Doesn’t speak to their ‘DIY’ outdoor bug spraying they did a week or two back. If it had served any good, it would have cut down on the bugs back there. And bugs are drawn to food thrown in the trash, so what the fuck am I supposed to do? Keep rotten food? I know, it’s pathetic, a 46 year old woman who gives a damn about her father’s constant criticism. But I only care in the context of how it impacts my depression and anxiety. His opinion otherwise means shit to me. I gave up on getting any accolades or approval from that gloom monger a long time ago. He has never even told me how well I have done stepping up to take care of my kid alone after the donor abandoned us. And make no mistake, he never had to raise kids alone, not did my mom or my sister. This has been my path and my path alone in this family, so I think a pat on the back might be in order. Oh, wait, I just said I didn’t care about his opinion…But I do care when it comes to people judging me for taking care of Spook.

This morning started as most school days do. Spook fussing and growling when I woke her, her growling NEVER when I said time to get ip. Back to normal. She didn’t mind getting up for camp but it was all fun. I am just relieved she had a good first day and likes her teacher and is excited for the school year. I give it two weeks then the homework will start pissing her off and taking her play time away and she will turn against the teacher. And I give it less than a week before she starts coming home with the bullying stores. I am sympathetic to an extent, but I have personally witnessed my kid saying kids are picking on her when in fact they were simply disagreeing with her. That isn’t gonna fly with me. I was truly bullied and tormented and spit on….That is real bullying. The people who disagreed with me on my fashion style, my choice in music, my beliefs, etc ran in the hundreds (no joke in school and at home) so that one you just gotta let slide and hope to find the one or two people who are in the same page and will be loyal.

I woke at 6:15 today, thanks to my cat clawing my head and licking my face. She wanted fresh food and water. I didn’t want to get up, I had 15 minutes before the alarm went off, damn it. With the sleep and wake cycle last night, I figured I’d have trouble getting up. Godsmack, though, will literally claw my scalp and lick my eyelids to get me up and she will not be ignored. It’s one of her annoying traits, though when she launches herself across the room and lands in my arms or back, it kind of makes up for it. She is mama’s baby and she knows it. I went out to feed the outdoor cats and I can’t help but feel a sadness with the kittens gone. It feels lonely. It was necessary to keep the home but…I hate it here so maybe eviction wouldn’t be such a bad thing. That is the anxiety and depression distorting my thought, of course, but it is still how I have been feeling.

Last night I had planned on a trip to town since I haven’t been out of Armpit in 5 days, but…I’m not feeling it today. I need a bath and it just takes so much energy. People call this a cop out. I say they’ve never battled severe clinical depression and anxiety. We have all weekend, unless the weather is wrong and the cookout at dad’s is cancelled, which would be fine with me and Spook. Once the man turns on you (around the time you reach double digits and start to mature physically) he stops liking you so much. Except for his son, oh, the golden penis holder who gets away with shit us girls never could. I must admit, though, that a trip to town with the “I want” monster is kind of hellish and I have to become the ‘no, you can’t have it’ monster. Very stressful.

Okay, I am burning hotspot data, time to wrap up the rant. Though I am irked with stepmonster because she said she wouldn’t ‘allow’ Spook to hyperventilate and panic in her presence. Because yeah, overwhelming emotion and panic are totally controllable. Again, any kind people willing to help us relocate far from this place…I do love my pegacorns. Sometimes this fantasy “I wish” thinking is all that keeps me afloat.

Final note..politics even when I try to shut them out are causing me great anxiety and depression. I saw a clip this morning of the dictator insulting one of his own supporters for being overweight and his minions just laughed and laughed. Ermagod, can people really be that fucking stupid? He’s making fun of you based on appearance when you are on his side. Pathetic. Maybe the dictator needs an intervention on his Copperdrone face paint.

I’ve read a lot about people who are experiencing this same depression and anxiety due to the current regime and political climate, so it’s not just me. It’s a sad statement about this country, honestly. I am embarrassed that fellow Americans can be so blind and ignorant as to allow themselves to be mocked by the guy they’re supporting and laughing about it. That man, even if a Trump supporter, did not deserve such public humiliation. May we see change in 2020. But politics is a skanky business no matter who is in office so…I doubt it. I’d settle for a president who isn’t in my face every hour on the hour with his dementia and self delusion. Go back to being something I can ignore or cheer on by doing good things, including for the poor and immigrants. That is my dream. A new regime that is truly based in logic, no name calling, and the true interest of the American people, not just the ones who agree with them.

What’s that…Think I just saw a pig fly. Which is pretty accurate. When politics become less cruel and money grubbing, pigs will indeed be flying. It will never happen. One can dream…

Babylon Files: Back To School

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , on August 16, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Something as insignificant as having my phone 2 feet away on the charger throws off my equilibrium. I am accustomed to the phone being less than 12 inches from my hand when I am in my safe space. I keep reaching for it and it isn’t there which gives me a moment of panic until I remind myself it’s across the room. I could use usb to charge it in front of me but that takes three times longer than electrical charging. Unfortunately there is only one outlet in my bedroom so I kind of have to work around that which means charging across the room. The tiniest things shake me up.
In a prior post I mentioned seeing my kid at the bus stop and having what seemed like a break from reality. Not exactly a break but an overwhelming thought that damn, I’ve got her to fifth grade on my own, but it’s been hard and what if I start flying apart with emotional and mental shrapnel because it doesn’t seem real that she is already ten…It was disconcerting and it’s happening more frequently, where reality seems to much to grasp and I feel hazy and scared I am going to crack my lids.
I put my bra on inside out. That is a testament to how altered my mind is at this time. Attention to detail gets lost in the mix. Least I figured it out before I finished dressing. Okay, I am still wearing the pants I slept in so I am half dressed but wearing a bra is huge for me. I will take the backwards win.
Some days forcing myself beyond the mail box is impossible. Sometimes it is very difficult but I am able to do it. I never know what is coming my way is the big problem. I can’t predict how high my anxiety level will be or why.
I don’t get people who get ‘high’ on caffeine, chocolate, sweets, etc. I can drink a 2 liter of soda and still not feel any difference. I wish it was that easy to boost my energy and focus.
Sometimes I curse the silly superstitions my mother instilled in me. Or installed. My nose itches, I hear her voice telling me someone is going to call or come by. My ear itches, someone is talking about me. Today my ears are super itchy which is making me super paranoid and anxious. It is illogical but I can’t shake it off. Back to anxious inertia in my space safe since leaving it heightens the sense of the other shoe dropping. This is what I mean when I say my thinking is very altered. I am always high strung and expecting the worst but this is extreme even for me.
Bio trackers…my god, tech is getting more terrifying by the day. You could ingest them unknowingly with any food really and then your body becomes the tracking device. Of course, this is off TV but I have little doubt it’s out there or in the works. TERRIFYING. And no, I don’t buy that bullshit ‘if you have nothing to hide, you have no reason to be paranoid.’ I am truly a very boring safe person but the idea that someone could use my own body to spy on me creeps me out.
My kid is home safely, she had a good day, it’s after 3 p.m. and yet…my anxiety continues to climb. I have zero idea why, it makes no sense, usually as the day nears 5 p.m. the anxiety is tamed a bit. But I have been feeling pretty high strung and frozen in place all day so I guess this is just one of those paranoia panic ridden days I can never predict. At least I can look forward to bedtime…4 hours and 12 minutes from now. Egad.
My kid had a good first day at school yay. I was worried.
My brother picked up my trash then came back by to tell me my trash cans had bugs in them. So now I am in charge of the outdoors, according to my father. Ass trash. I might make it to town tomorrow and get a big thing of bug killer for out back. That man is a stain on my soul. And my kid is still smarting from him calling her an idiot. A 72 year old man picking on a 10 year old and calling names while telling her to grow up. That’s fucking rich.
7:45 My spawn is ready for bed, yay, school is wearing her out. Now I can take my father stained soul, my depression and my anxiety to Fort Blankie and bliss out on sleep. Sadly, the consistency of sleeping through mostly since starting the Zoloft is wearing off and I am back to the sleep wake hellish cycle. At least I can get back to sleep easily. To wake four or five times briefly. WTF is wrong with my brain?

Tossed Salads And Scrambled Eggs Brain

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , on August 15, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

(Yeah, I stole that title in part from the Frasier theme, it fits my mental state.)

I slept last night but I woke up so many times, the only saving grace was that I was able to go back to sleep easily. Only to wake again and again. First school day jitters should be my kid’s, not her mom’s. Geesh, she is in fifth grade and knows the drill, so why am I up in arms? Maybe because the school never answers the phone or returns messages so I couldn’t take her supplies over and she had to lug half it to the bus and it was heavy as hell. I didn’t know what bus number she was on or when it would be by so we went with last year’s schedule. She left to go to the stop at 7:30 and I became so neurotic I sat on the step to make sure the kids weren’t picking on her, plus I wanted to see the bus number and time they get here. And I’ll be damned it wasn’t two minutes before I forgot the bus number. Scrambled eggs and tossed salad brain. I hope she does okay and has a good day and didn’t get on the wrong bus. If she did it is their fault for not returning my calls or giving me new information. But the buses all go to the same place so I figured she’d find her way with a little help…Nerve racking.

I also had a briefd moment of ‘omg, I am losing touch with reality’ because I saw her standing over there in her new school clothes (she wore the Penney’s $45 outfit my sister got her, of course.Man, I get sick of them one upping me, but then again, their bills aren’t paid and mine are so I guess my priorities in being frugal are spot on. It still stings a smidge that she didn’t want to wear any of the stuff I got her. I am trying not take it personally but…I take everything personally. Right down to municipal untilities checking the water thingies this morning, but it was for everyone, not just us. The tiniest things send me into panic and paranoia meltdown.

Like being back in ‘I don’t have the energy to refill my ice cube trays or even feed myself.” Yesterday I had two pieces of ham and two pieces of beef jerky because I couldn’t muster the energy to cook. Spook lives on microwave meals so she isn’t hard to take care of that way. And I have GOT to shake off the paranoia and get my ass to town for groceries but I am scared if I do, then the internet people will have a cancellation, call while I am in town, and I will miss my opportunity to get our service up again. I am going nuts without my outlet to the outside world. I mean, sure I have my cell and am hotspotting these posts but it isn’t the same. And a kid without net access, geesh, you’d think it was life or death. Could she have learned this from me? My saving grace is that I have an asston of shows I never watched so I have something to watch for when the TV antenna isn’t bringing in anything watchable.

My gut goblins have already did a Rockette’s number on my innards. That is getting old real fast but it’s not anything new, I’ve battled a nervous stomach since I was 12. Internalizing stress four different doctors said. I wish I knew how not to internalize it.

Today’s plan is to do as little as possible other than force the ice cube tray refill. I did bits and pieces here and there for two days so…inertia day is in order, and not like I have a choice. Back to NCIS New Orleans. Oh, how I love the sights and night life and the entire vibe of that city. I always wanted to go there for one of their haunted city tours, see the Lalaurie house, visit Marie Leveau’s grave. Creepy stuff ghouls like me do. I mean, I wanted to honeymoon as the Lizzie Borden Inn because, well, I’m obviously operating on a tossed salad and scrambled eggs brain. But my ghoulish nature is the least of my issues, it is what makes me feel happy. Normal is overrated.

I don’t think I will ever have any worries of being normal. Normal is my bete noir, my anathema. Fuck normal. Fucked up is the new black.

The Babylon Files-Tuesday Babble

Posted in anxiety, depression, Ramble with tags , , , , , , , on August 15, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

In a nod to one of my all time fave hair metal bands, Faster Pussycat, I have dubbed the mindless day long rambles as “Babylon” as the lyrics of their song goes, “They won’t shut up, they just keep babbling on and on…” How fitting for my mindless random thoughts during the course of a day. This was from yesterday but I figured I can spare the hotspot data to post it. Life without unlimited internet access SUCKS.
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It hasn’t been 24 hours with the internet down and already my equilibrium is shattered. The anxiety is immense, I am on the edge of my seat, waiting for the next shoe to drop. I keep telling myself to go do something but I can’t shake the ‘deer in the headlights’ mental paralysis. Which is unlike yesterday where I kicked ass and took names with the lawn. I don’t understand why I can’t just find some consistency in mental states as far as anxiety goes. Every day is a mixed bag, a surprise of paranoia,and fear of ‘what will go wrong next?’
Living life on the edge this way is not to my liking and yet…so often it has been all I’ve known. The current living situation is in itself unsettling. For awhile I thought I was gaining acceptance and settling in. Instead, I keep thinking back to the solace of our squalid trailer where at least I had a shower instead of only a bath. These little things have a lot to do with mental tranquility. Change is very difficult for me. It’s been over a year since the move and I still can’t think of this place as anything other than ‘bad luck’. Yet the prospect of another move, even if it was financially possible, is too overwhelming to contemplate. I am a homebody and since home is the only place I feel truly safe…Holding onto even an unhappy situation seems crucial.
It never ceases to amaze me how I can live in hoarder conditions yet overflowing trash cans or things even an inch from where I am used to them being throws me off balance. There is something very wrong with my brain.
To distract myself from the hellish paranoia and paralysis I took some stuff out to the shed. I’ve been putting it off for months because most of it was toys my kid weeded through but now it’s done. Not that it made much difference. I can’t control the clutter which was why I quit going to yard sales. But leave it to my dad to go to auctions and keep pawning stuff on me even when I make it clear I have no room. He is pushy and does the same to my sister. Not that they don’t find good deals sometimes but geesh, he bitches about my clutter yet makes it worse when I am saying no more. Forget buying a vowel, the man needs to buy a hearing aid or two and some self awareness.
You know I am nervous big time when I need to pee every fifteen minutes and start breaking out in hives. Does not help that when I get sweaty due to exertion, heat, or anxiety, I have a skin condition where it reacts to my own sweat and makes me break out in splotches and itchiness.
Sick of Spam calls. Unfortunately my cheapie phone does not have a block function so I am left to be stalked by these idgets. I know they have a job to do and I can respect that but trying to tell me my car warranty is out and they can help is fucking stupid when my car is a $450 model 2001. Warranty wore out long before I got the car. And trip advisors, ha ha ha, like I can afford a trip anywhere.
The price of a deep depression…things are let slide because you can barely get out of bed and do the bare minimum being a parent and pet owner. So when you do go to pick it up no matter how much you accomplish, you find more that needs done so you flog yourself for being such a loser who can’t even keep up with what others do every single day with multiple kids and full time jobs and other obligations. No one seems to grasp this part of depression. They think we are lazy, slackers, slobs, and they never think how it batters our self esteem and leads to self loathing. Small consistent efforts worked at first. Until the depression got really bad during winter and then…Just doing dishes and keeping laundry clean while tending to kid and cats became my bar to meet. Beyond that…I just didn’t have the strength or mental stability. It’s not a cop out, it is a fact, and I really wish I had a close friend who wouldn’t judge me and who could come in and help me get the place tip top so we don’t get tossed out should the wrong people see the clutter and report me as an unfit mom. Sadly, I don’t have anyone like that and I can’t afford to hire help. So I chisel away at it in bits and pieces and hope for the best.
A TV show just said, “You cannot let people live rent free in your head, it’s not healthy.” Okay, now directions on how to evict the assholes…
My kid is the one starting 5th grade tomorrow yet I am the one experiencing anxiety and dread. I set the alarm for the routine and then got this awful feeling that on one antidepressant alone going into seasonal depression, what if I can’t get moving in the mornings? Sure, lately I have been waking between 6 and 7 even with no alarm but as the season change nears, I know what is coming and I am scared. Scared of failing as a parent, fear of somehow impacting her with my depressive abyss and high strung anxiety level. I wish there was an anxiety button you could just flip off.
1:22 p.m. and I am already counting down til bedtime. I was gonna run to the gas station but the paranoia and panic have set in, keeping my glued in place and ‘scared’ to go out. It isn’t physical fear, it’s just illogical anxiety. Sometimes I can fight through it. Other times, it owns me. Today, it is in charge. I hate it.
It’s nearing 5 p.m. and I am starting to feel some relief from the panxiety. Three and half more hours til Spook goes to bed so I can too. I’m looking forward to it, but then, when don’t I look forward to the solace of sleep. My dreams may sometimes be sad or scary but I can wake from them. I can’t wake up from reality.