Archive for anxiety disorder

As The Anxiety Builds

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , , , on February 17, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

That title sounds soap opera-y but then, I grew up second hand absorbing my mom’s love of daytime soaps as a young kid. To this day I remember characters and actors from Young and The Restless, Days Of Our Lives, Another World, All My Children. My brain is a steel trap for inane pop trivia yet the stuff that could prove useful…poof, gone in ten seconds never to return.

Another fine gray dreary wet day in the ninth circle of midwest hell. This is not good for depression. Week after week we have maybe 2 sunny days which leaves 5 gray days a week to wreak havoc on my mental state and drag me further down the rabbit hole. Joy. It’s a catch 22 for me, because I find sunlight hurts my eyes and sometimes makes my skin itch and feel like it’s burning, yet for my moods, sunlight is important and I’ve come to accept that to my own chagrin. Though what all the professionals psychobabble about seasonal depression being solely due to shorter sunlight hours is bunk. For me, it’s a factor, and a relevant one, but also the inability to ever get truly warm for 5 months of the year is a mega hindrance to my functionality.

I could not get to sleep last night even though I took a melatonin and felt sleepy. The minute I put my head on the pillow…my mind started churning, the anxiety started building. I did my usual self soothe ritual of counting backwards in odd numbers from 1000…By the fifth time I was downright pissed off because I wasn’t the least bit sleepy so I got up and watched an episode of Castle. I was still awake at 1:30. Then I woke several times during the night and I’ll be damned if I remember why. Come morning and sensing that it was light out (gray as it is) I pulled the covers over my head as this is the one day of the week I can at least sleep til 8 a.m. and it was only 7:30. Never mind going back to sleep, the brain was out of the gate like a racehorse-bucking bull hybrid, thoughts spinning, panic setting in, the thought of failing my child by ending up homeless paralyzing and terrifying. And then my kid was up so time to make the doughnuts, so to speak. Be mommy and all.

We ran some errands, though we had to wait ninety minutes for stores to open. During which my kid channeled satan with impatience to go spend the dollar grandma gave her. When she goes into jackass mode, there is no reasoning with her. Honestly, I am tired of the ‘perfetly normal for a child that age, just a phase”. If I recall, people suspected Jeffrey Dahmer was just going through a phase when he started tine torturing and dissecting animals. At some point a phase is actually a warning sign that something is amiss. With my kid, I think it’s some sort of oppositional defiance thing because the word ‘no’ sets her off.Probably why in all my depressions and anxiety bouts I’d eventually let her wear me down to keep my sanity. I am no longer the yes monster, though, trying to repair the damage done by my perpetually altered mental status. It’s not shirking responsibility, I created the monster to some extent (my family did not help at all) so I am working on correct it. Can’t say I am fond of having bags of quarters swung at my head for simply saying “No, we’re not going out today, we’ll do it tomorrow.” She’s kind of a ticking bomb sometimes.

At the same…she is my joy. She is love, and I beam when we are interacting without all the drama or my depression and anxiety infused self doubt. She is an amazing kid, so smart, so creative, and while maybe my nurture was only a factor…Knowing I haven’t completely screwed her up in 8.5 years in spite of all the struggles…It’s nice to feel like I’ve done one thing right.

Errands all done, which is good, cos the spitting snow and rain and gloom really bring me down. And I’m not talking ‘ooh, bummer, dude”. I mean total mood sabotage, as in one minute I am ‘managing’ and the next I feel like I am sinking. Oh, depression, you gift that never stops giving. I wish you would, really. Because your idea of giving is actually TAKING, robbing me of basic functions that come so easily to others. I may have to learn to live with you, but I will never ever welcome you or consider you any kind of benefit, you cockweasel.

(I know, I spew venom like a cobra, isn’t it awesome?)

And FYI, for the ignorant sans empathy alleged human beings who think mental illnes is a weakness or an affectation or we’re lazy and ‘faking it’…It is my fondest wish you get some invisible illness that hinders your existence and others view you the same as they view those with mental disorders. Walk in those toe pinching blister causing shoes a week and you’d be crying uncle.

I am having one of my ‘deer in the headlights’ days, meaning the anxiety is so bad I feel like moving from my spot in my bedroom crypt will result in catastrophe. It’s irrational, but then so is throwing up over the side of a gambling boat on a date cos the panic is so overwhelming it elicits a physical response. Anxiety disorders make zero sense but one thing I’ve learned in spite of all the gobbledygook the professionals spew…if you get anxious and it’s just your personality…maybe you can retrain your neural pathways and go all cognitive and mindfulness and be all better. But when your anxiety is constant, differing only in severity, sometimes based on outside stimuli, often with no clear trigger…that is a disorder and it is crippling, It distorts your thoughts, makes you have irrational fears, causes trust issues, and often makes you feel like you’re a lost cause. Oh, the lies our disordered brains tell us. And when they do it while we’re down the rabbit hole…we’re just vulnerable enough to either believe them or at least ponder their voracity. Living in perpetual self doubt and confusion, and having the mental health, er ‘behavioral management’ regime more often than not having zero clue and not wanting to buy one…It’s not a quality existence.

My dad darkened my doorstep today and asked if I found a place to live yet. It’s been TWO days of looking and I’ve already gotten 8 unfeasible or unavailable responses. The man has no grasp on the reality of my situation. To his credit (sarcastic emoji here) he gave my kid $2 to blow on junk food and offered me nothing even though he knows I am low on phone time and penniless. Feel the love. Hell, if they’d help me a little even with money for talk time and gas, I’d cook them a good meal or come clean their house…I am willing to barter with whatever I have to offer. To not even be offered that chance by my own family…But I don’t work and in my dad’s book that makes me a lazy non person. He has bragged so many times how he’s 71 and still works everyday, I want to slap him with a rotting mackerel. It’s not my fault he’s a workaholic. It’s not my fault that he can never seem to save up enough money to make himself feel better. I’ve stood by my kid, kept the same roof over her head 9 years, and that’s more than my parents did for me. Oh, we were clothed and fed, but it seemed we were moving every year or two. 8 different places in two different towns before I was 13. Maybe they didn’t have a choice, or money, but I think with all that counts against me and no help from the donor…I am due a little respect for all I have managed to do in spite of my detriments. But nooo, not with my dad.

This post was supposed to be brief but…I guess I’m like Stephen King via his ‘Making of Rose Red” video. “I’m more of a putter-inner than a taker-outer.” Rambling and ranting is my therapy and contrary to what my inept psych team thinks…it’s a wonderful method of exorcising my demons. And while I do wish I had followers who were more interactive as far as clicking like or commenting because if I help even ONE person struggling with mental issues feel less alone…it does my heart good and I’d like to think it does them good and that’s just something, as a writer, a sufferer of mental disorders, and as an empathetic human…I’d like to hear about.

So that’s the purge of the scumbag brain,

Now comes the reminder of the ‘help us find a home’ fundraiser which has raised ZERO dollars in 4 days. It amazes me how people donated to help get my cats vet care or help me license a car and yet I am facing homelessness with an 8 year old and not one person cares to donate or even just share on social media with a bit of my story…I am sure a large percentage think it’s a scam but I have posted on the gofundme page the paper declaring us out if we can’t buy. We have no choice and this was no screw up of my own, it was a doublecross by a lying sociopath landlord and a soulless management company hell bent on ridding themselves of low income ‘trashy’ tenants. If you have an ounce of humanity, even if you don’t have a dollar to spare, please click the picture of my daughter below and at least check out the page and pass it on social media if possible. Or reblog even. ANYTHING could possibly help and if you read my prior entries, you will know my story never varies. I am honest to my own detriment at times telling it like it is and how broke we are.

Look at this little girl and tell me she deserves to be homeless just because her mom is disabled and has limited income and her father is a working deadbeat unwilling to see her or pay a cent even when ordered by the court.

Remember…even a $5 donation from several people can help and I am always willing to provide receipts for every cent received and spent.

All I want is to do right by my daughter.

Advertisements

Dark Hellhole

Posted in depression with tags , , , on August 23, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

My father has forever griped about how every home I’ve had (since the brain baking Nardil incident of 2000) has been a dark crypt. Fair enough. When bright light gives you massive headaches and agitates your anxiety, you do what what have to in order to survive semi comfortably.

Yesterday, during a lash out tantrum, Spook screamed at me, “I want out of this dark hellhole!”

During a tantrum with her, there is no reasoning, the truth has no bearing. I have white and polka dot curtains in the living room, lace sheers in the hall, and gave her the choice to put whatever she likes in her room. A few weeks ago it was a light Shopkins curtain then the neighor’s forever on porch light in her window started to suddenly bother her so I gave her a darker curtain, told her it wouldabsorb light and she should pull it aside during the day. I do NOT force my need for dim light and ‘crypt calm’ anywhere but in my own bedroom, my safe space, my sanctuary.

As for hellhole…We can agree on that, albeit for different reasons. The place is falling apart, bugs, et al, fine, that sucks. But for the first time in 8 years I have finally reached the point of being ashamed to live in this trailer park and it’s because the landlord is just letting white trash and assorted others move in with their brat ass kids and there’s garbage everywhere, someone even stole my kid’s bike and one of our cats, one nice man put a nice swing set and a bunch of nice plastic houses and stuff down at ‘the little park’ for all the kids…and in under 2 months it’s all been destroyed. The park is basically a trash can and I told my kid to start cleaning it up and of course, she didn’t do any pof it, it’s unfair, blah blah blah. No, it’s not fair, but since she picks shitty friends who one minute hit her with a stick, the next minute she’s screaming that I won’t let her play with them because they are being bullied and she needs to protect them…

Meanwhile we have the white trash parents who won’t let their kids hang out with mine because oh, right, I told a 13 year ld to kiss my big fat butt after she threatened to kick it, and my kid was present when some boys started a fire so she’s the pyro (I can guarantee she lacks manual dexterity to have used the roller Bic lighter that started the fire)…I am so ashamed to live here, I told R if Kenny ever leaves the shop’s back room, put in a shower and I’ll pay him damn near twice what K pays. I’ll find my cats homes or foster homes. I am at wits’ end. And the bitch of it is, I’m blacklisted with section 8 (low cost) housing due to a bad landlord reference I got before my kid was ever born, so yeah, karma. (Fucking bipolar depression, actually, but the world doesn’t care.) I can honestly say this has been the worst summer I can remember because used to, she had maybe 3 kids to play with. Then comes the onslaught of shitty parents who let their 4 year old loose before 8 am and she’s still wandering at 9:30 p.m. so I walk her home and get a door slammed in my face for disturbing the parents.

WHITE TRASH. I may be trashy inasmuch as being a lousy housekeeper but I always know where my kid is, she is polite to everyone but me, I don’t have trash piled up inside or out, I am TRYING to treat the bugs, I am TRYING to keep food in the fridge so my kid doesn’t go begging others for food as I respect how difficult it is to afford to feed your own let alone 7 other kids. My reward?

The kids found three abandoned newborn kittens and brought them all to me, stampeding into my home, EIGHT of them, uninvited by anyone but my kid, then they start going through my fridge, whining because I have Dr. Pepper instead of Mt. Dew and I asked them nicely four times to go play outside and they just sat inside on my couch asking for food then wanting to manhandle dying kittens. And one did die and I have to bury another, and I have two that are holding on because I keep checking every hour, (even during the night) and feeding them vitagel and warm milk with a vet’s syringe, trying to keep them alive even though it is futile, they are too small to survive without a momma cat. And for all I know, the mama is looking for them because these trailer park kids are liars and just found the kittens alone and decided the say the mother was dead. And don’t think I am dumping on other people’s kids alone because mine is as much a culprit as them, just maybe to a lesser degree. Her extreme abuse is saved for me alone.

She had six tantrums yesterday and nothing I did worked to curtail them.Often it is that way. I record the exchange so the professionals can hear me trying to deal calmly and her just screaming and threatening to hurt herself or kill me or “tell grandma you won’t let me do X”. Since school started, there was only ONE tantrum free day. And it’s wearing me down. I am hanging by a thread. And to my shame, I have allowed her to get to me and started raising my voice but I refuse to spank her or even touch her on the arm to get her attention. Because this is a kid who gets scratched by your fingernail and tells people you cut her. Yes, I am afraid of my own child getting me arrested for assault because by the time the truth comes out (if it does, because he system often doesn’t accept that kids lie) it’s too late.

Yes, I know. I am weak. She’s a shark and my anxiety and fear are blood in the water and she moves in for the kill. I try so hard to keep a lid on it. And it makes her scream more when I am calm. Guess it’s less stressful to just scream back (yeah, immature and bad parenting, but I last a hell of a lot longer before I snap than even R without an anxiety disorder, this is TRYING child). Of course, I end up feeling shitty for raising my voice and not keeping my cool and the guilt is crushing. I apologize and tell her mommy earned ‘bad points’ for not following my own rule about not raising my voice as I tell her to not to do.

Last night I hit the wall. I cut off access to her friends after the third invasion of food demanding brats and her playing the “S won’t be my friend anymore if you don’t give her my shoes and this shirt!” R stopped by to give me a part number he needed ASAP and Spook decided that was a great time to demand a tea party and when I politely explained I needed to find this part as the customer is a cancer patient with months to live and she needs her TV fixed but if she’d give me a half hour of peace to look for the part, we would have our tea party.

She didn’t give me two minutes of peace. She got the newborn kittens meowing which is shrill noise that makes me anxious and unable to focus. We had to run out and I told her no to something four different times and she just ignored me and did it anyway and informed me for the thousandth time I am not the boss of her or her body and I just want her to be a robot. FFS. No means no. So her consequence was no tea party with me as it was nearly bedtime before she stopped with the tantrum and finally said “I’m sorry, I love you,Mommy.” And I asked her what she was sorry for and she said, being bad. I said, no, not being bad, what did you do to lose the tea party? And she had nothing. Just that I am the worst mother and don’t are about me kid because I am trying to instill consequences and conscience. Which she then used against me to say they are big words and she doesn’t understand so I broke it down to very small words even my idget family could understand as could a first grader and she still pretended not to get it yet she gets it fine at school.

Hellhole indeed. This is my life. Every damned day, this is my life. And all the experts say it’s my short comings and not my kid’s fault. It takes two to tango, sure, but this kids bare no responsibility is bullshit. Schools expect a certain level of good behavior and give consequences if the child can’t abide. But parents are supposed to take all responsibility, never lose their temper, never feel like running away from home or hiding in the closet to escape what is essentially a pint sized bully…

I love her so much. It cuts like a knife (Bryan Adams, anyone?) when she screams that I don’t care about her simply because I won’t let her do as she pleases. She has so many good qualities…

Much like her mother, though, the bad starts to outweigh the good and people have limits, they hit the ceiling and just caN’t do it anymore.All my relationships go like that no matter how much I change my thinking and behavior because, bipolar. Not all shitty behavior is that but consideirng who I used to be, outside of the bipolar, as a person…I have become a damned saint. None of it seems to matter.

I won’t give up on my daughter. Too many have given up on me because, yeah, the bad is awful and it is soul sucking and makes you want to run screaming into the night no matter how much love is involved. You just can’t let someone else drag you down. (Sorry, donor, was never my intention but then, you abandoned three children so fuck you.)

I’m not bitter, just filled with saccharine known to cause cancer in labratory rats. (How odd that is the one thing I remember from my childhood when I used to get a diet 7-up and saw that on the label.)

Okay. Rant over. But I think the gist was,I am trying to be a good mother in a very difficult situation with a very volatile child. Frustrating but I survivd 7 years of daily bullying and being spit on by the redneck elite…I won’t be taken down by a child. I will get to the end of my rope and then I will tie a knot in it, and then when that frays, I will tie another knot. And if I have to, I will tie knots in my nerve endings to keep holding on because she is worth it.Junk DNA, chemical imbalance, or just “I’m a shitty parent who fucked her up”…

I will be better than those who walked out on me.

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.

Short Circuit

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , , on April 14, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Not sure why but today was a bitch. Been a long time since the anxiety disorder ran riot and panxiety grabbed me in is jaws and shook me about like a rag doll.

All morning and all day, I felt this foreboding. Something bad coming, bad juju. Enter panic and paranoia. It had my stomach torn up. I blew off a prior commitment because my brain had me convinced leaving the house would bring something bad about.

I took a Xanax, to no true avail. I’ve been short, testy with everyone, and raised my voice too many times to count or justify. Explain, sure. When your brain is sending you misinformation and making you feel fragile enough to shatter in a thousand pieces…it is easy to spaz out and lose your cool.

Not my finest hour, today. Not a good start going into 4 days of my kid being home and all the Easter rigamarole. I am TRYING but this ninja anxiety and its throwing stars of panic attacks is just brutal.

Point for me recognizing my feelings were a distortion. Point against me, I handled it as ass trashy as possible. (Though when I got out of the shower and one of Spook’s friends decided to barge in the door while I had no pants on…)Yeah, I had every right to go off on that, you do NOT enter without knocking, ESPECIALLY when someone is telling you NO, do NOT come in. Fucking sad I gotta keep the place on max security prison lockdown to combat kids who just barge on the damned door.

All around a very bad mental health day.

I hope I feel more solid tomorrow so I can get my Easter shopping done while Spook is at mom’s. Hope, hope, hope, so hope.

Really hate anxiety disorder even more than my plethora of other dysfunctions. Anxiety is crippling and it sparks fight or flight response. I don’t like it. I’d about undergo an exorcism just to get rid of it.

Though that too would give me an anxiety attack so…fuck a duck in a bucket.

The Confrontation Complication

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , , on April 6, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

I try not to do flood posting but…Life happens.

No sooner than my last post about the neighbor’s hell hound…My kid was walking down to her friend’s, on the opposite of the road, and the dog went after her, straining its chain to get near her. She started wailing, terrified, rightfully so and I was PISSED…I went next door, running on ‘protect my young’ instinct and the guy was outdoors with the dog and I told him he’d better get his dog under control cos it just went after my kid. I further informed him about yesterday’s chain/bicycle event and said he needed to get his dog under control.

This was followed by him taking the dog inside and the woman there started to scream, and I couldn’t make much out, but I have little doubt the psycho was carrying on about me complaining and telling the dog to shut up, my cats, blah blah. These people truly are examples of why the term ‘trailer trash’ applies. They scream for the dog to shut up as much as me and my kid do because it never shuts up when it is tied out. Hypocrites.

I followed this up with a call to the landlord, not that he can do anything, but I wanted it on record what is going on with these people. I was told to call the pound but that dog has gone to the pound at least once this year and they went and ‘bailed’ it out. So what good does that do. Not to mention, unless it’s loose, it’s just a noisy dog in their yard and no one will do fuck all about that.

Now for all my “fuck you” mentality (and yes, it is sincere, not affectation)…I do NOT do confrontation. It sets off the anxiety disorder, which leads to an anxiety attack followed by sheer panic and paranoia.

So while earlier I was feeling semi solid, even had plans to go mow a patch of weeds in front of the place…Then the dog incident and now I am so shaken, I don’t want to set foot outside the place. I also rounded up my cats lest that psych meth head next door decide to poison them or let the dog loose on them. I am worried my tires will be slashed. Or she will make some false report to children’s wellfare. Let’s face it. People are petty and vindictive, a lesson hard learned but well ingrained.

I logically know this is the disorder talking. Logic has nothing to do with the way I am feeling in spite of a Xanax. I am woozy, weak, my brain can’t stop spinning. Even telling me I should have left well enough alone because I have to live next to these idgets.

I have to keep telling myself, I’ve let the months of endless barking go, I said nothing when the fucking dog was loose…But going after my kid…ANY PARENT WOULD BE AND SHOULD BE PISSED, CONCERNED, AND CONfRONTATIONAL.

Of course, not everyone lives next door to a scary screaming meth head who was just in jail a couple of months back. I fear this woman. Because ya know, were she a logical, decent human being…

Hearing that your dog just tried to attack a child would make you apologize and handle your dog more responsibly, rather than making a concerned mother look unreasonable for being concerned and voicing that concern.

So now I can’t write my story because I am still in the aftermath of terrible panic and paranoia and I know I did the right thing but anxiety disorder gives zero fucks.

This is why I am on disability. Between the bipolar months long depressions and anxiety attacks so bad they impact my physical health…

I am a strong person, and kinda bad ass but when it comes to confrontation and panic…I can’t seem to conquer my disorders and it makes me feel weak and pathetic. Anyone else experience this with confrontational situations?

It sucks beyond words.

What It’s *Really* Like To Have An Anxiety Disorder

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , , , on November 21, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

The masses will all generalize things like, “I know how you feel, I get so nervous giving public speeches”, or “I’m terrified of heights, I get it.”

Actually, you really DON’T get it.

Because an anxiety disorder, complete with panic attacks and paranoia, is not related to a particular trigger at all times. Many times, it comes on without a trigger, without explanation, and boggles even those of us who suffer from them.

Imagine, if you can, the sensation of a bug flitting across your bare skin. An ant, a gnat, a roach, whatever insect of your choice. Your instinct is to shudder and shake it away or swat at it. Gross! Seconds later, even though the bug has been dealt with, you can still recall how it felt on your skin and you shudder again. But then you forget about it and move on.

Anxiety disorder is like living 24-7 with a thousand bugs crawling over your skin, in your hair, under your skin, inside your veins. You feel like you are losing your mind because, obviously, there are NO bugs. It’s “all in your head”. The sensations, however, are very real. Terrifying. Discombobulating.

You start to feel fragile. Like you are under attack from every outside stimuli. Like you have a target on your front and back and head and EVERYTHING around you is armed with a gun.

You tell yourself to “grow up”, “shake it off”, “get over it”. To no avail.

Anxiety can be triggered, sure. Often, it is not. Often, it is like a band of ninjas and by the time they strike, you’re caught unawares that you can’t do battle properly.

Just fathom living this way EVERY SINGLE DAY OF YOUR LIFE.

Imagine that fear of public speaking or heights or spiders or whatever not merely being a trigger that you can avoid or power through, but A CONSTANT COMPANION RESIDING IN YOUR OWN MIND AND YOU ARE NOT ARMED PROPERLY TO FIGHT IT.

Furthermore, think about what it’s like for those of us with anxiety disorders and the stigma and lack of understanding society deals us.

Do you consider that minor? Silly? Immature? Weak?

Ignorance, thankfully, is not contagious and CAN be cured by educating yourself on the matter, rather than making ignorant assumptions and judgments.

Trust me, judging, mocking, teasing, assuming- none of this helps us. If anything, it makes the anxiety worse and we retreat further into ourselves. Desperate for comfort, to escape our own demons for a moment or two.

Two out of four days this last weekend I was convinced I had bugs crawling everywhere. I survived a couple of hours in the dish on Friday but it was grueling. A firetruck siren went off. I felt terror pierce my entire being. Oh, my home is on fire, it could happen, it’s happened before! Oh, no, a ringing phone, what do I say with all these bug like sensations making me feel absolutely insane?

To recover from this, I did not leave the lot for the entire weekend but for a brief trip to a convenience store.

Today, the bugs are almost silent.

Almost.

But I don’t know how better to explain it than bugs on your skin, bugs everywhere.

Maybe tiny electric jolts going off under every inch of skin and tissue at random intervals. Or maybe a giant stack of amps outside your window blaring the most heinous music at all times.

Living this way is not fun and no amount of medication or therapy tricks make it any easier.

THAT is what it’s like to have an anxiety disorder.

If it still seems funny and mock worthy to you…You areĀ  far more ignorant than I could give any human being credit for. And I pity you for your emotional intelligence stagnated around age ten.

If you want to see strength, intelligence, fortitude…

Look at those of us with anxiety disorders, including a myriad of other chemical misfirings in our brain…WE are the soldiers doing battle without weapons, without an army. WE are brave and strong and though suffering, we keep fighting.

Fighting an invisible enemy 24-7 is far more exhausting than anyone can fathom unless they live it.

Downward…Spiral…Deviation

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , , , on September 30, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

Let me preface this post by saying…I am not a “by the rules” person.

Is a semblance of routine important for those who suffer from bipolar/depression/anxiety? To an extent, yes.

At the same time…my personality rebels against the constraints of monotonous routine and schedule.

What this translates to is…

If told I have to be up at 6:48 a.m. … I will purposely sleep until 7 a.m. If told I have to be up at 7:02 a.m. …my brain dictates that I get up at 6:54 a.m.

I MUST rebel. I MUST have variety, variation, deviation.

At the same time in a contradictory fashion…IF things do not unfold in an orderly fashion (supper is chicken and taters, kid gets out of school at 2:30, mail comes at 3:20 p.m.)…I spazz out and melt down.

It is a paradox but then, isn’t that bipolar described pretty accurately?

Today, the child support check was supposed to be in the mail. It did not come, as it has, on Thursday, for 5 straight weeks. If I had savings or other means, no biggie. BUT if you count on this influx of income…That single deviation is devastating to the mind.

Shit happens, get over it and grow up!

I know, right?

On this one…I cannot win. If I count on “routine” and “schedule” then it doesn’t happen accordingly…I come undone. Anger leads to agitation which heightens anxiety and causes me to be depressed, surly, and snappish.

YET if I go “pessimistic” and assume nothing will work right, well, then I am just letting my disorder get the best of me.

OMFG. I can count on it or I can’t, is that too much to fucking ask?

Apparently, it is.

NEVER MIND I had a nightmare last night about the check not being in the mail.

NEVER MIND that I spent hours today trying to talk myself out of “pessimism” and assuming the worst only to get hit with SPLAT and the downward spiral because all did not go according to routine.

WHY am I expected by all to be consistent in spite of my inconsistent condition while the world around me is allowed to “make mistakes” or “work at its own pace”?????

That ONE deviation sent me spiraling downward. I was depressed, deflated, anxious, pissed off. Snappy, sarcastic, jumpy.

FUCK, don’t tell me the donor purposely lost his job to avoid paying for his kid!

DAMNIT, don’t tell me this different letter carrier decided to flake off and deliver my check tomorrow instead!

Round and round, scumbag brain goes.

Setting the tone for my entire afternoon. I wanted a pizza for supper. I had to wait until I broke and told Spook her social life needed to take a backseat long enough for a trip into the dish. Aldi was packed. I had a near meltdown in the parking lot, terrified my inability to focus and take in all the surroundings would cause a car accident.

I freaked out in Thursday night traffic. I saw cop cars everywhere (no, not hallucinating, it is homecoming weekend for the local high school and the cops are out in force) and that sent my mind reeling into what minor infraction I might inadvertently be committing, because face it…It’s not difficult to forget your seatbelt or not know a tail light is out…

The ONE saving grace of the day was that upon our return to our safe space…I started to calm down.

I just cannot handle deviation from certain “dedicated” routines. I cannot stomach all the traffic and responsibility from driving. I used to LOVE driving. Now it is one more terror I cannot seem to handle.

I’ve often wondered if my inability to tolerate change, even minor ones, is a sign of mild Asperger’s or autism.

Apparently, though, if you were in advanced (old school term “gifted”) classes…You are NOT operating at a mental deficit.

So what’s the fucking deal? Is this inability to deal with deviation a symptom of bipolar, of depression, of anxiety, of panic attacks?

What. The. Actual.Fuck.

Because I would really like to know. I don’t choose to be this way. I don’t want to have a mood crash into despair simply because I was told spaghetti was for supper only to have it changed to fish filets. WTF?

I am so tired of trying so damned hard and getting nowhere.

Maybe it’s a personality glitch exclusive to me.

Though I remain unconvinced of this as I have read other bipolar blogs and it seems pretty common in *some* of us to be super sensitive to schedule changes and deviations.

Why can’t the professionals figure this out?

I lose faith, daily, not only in humanity, but in the ability of the professionals, to ever truly help me.

And ultimately this leads back to self loathing and guilt because obviously, if I weren’t such a pessimistic, picky trainwreck, I could talk my brain into getting its shit together.

If only it were that bloody simple.