Archive for anxiety disorder

The Mental Chaos Tipping Point

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on October 11, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

The “plan” for today was to get my kid to town for her sleep over at her grandmother’s then come home and start kicking ass around the house towards cleaning and organizing.

The mental health gods started laughing and here I am…the tipping point of mental chaos.

Paralyzed with panxiety, ie;paranoid anxiety, and feeling very unsafe, unbalanced, and like…nothing matters and so what if it did.

My dad has already stalked me by phone 3 times today, STILL on my ass about hauling the stuff from my shed. Which I still don’t know how it is any of his fucking business. Last spring, we took an entire pick up truck load to the city wide dumpster, what is left are odds and ends, some I plan to haul up there in my car, half which either won’t be accepted or I am not prepared to part with. I try to tell him this and still…just when I think “Okay, maybe he finally got it and will piss off’…he comes back at me.

And I think it was that third call, followed by a nerve racking plot twist in season one’s ending of Van Helsing, that sent me over the edge into mental chaos.

Sad but true. I get panic attacks even from things I love, like vampire/zombie/medical/crime/horror shows. I know it is fictional but…when my mental state is whittled down enough, I am easy pickings for the anxiety and panic to take over and the mood to crash. I think if my dad had just left me the fuck alone, as he had last week and this week before the rain, when he was busy working, I might have stood a chance at accomplishing something. But him constantly butting in, invading my space…it’s not cool. It’s not something I can easily let slide off of me cos ya know, I am not made of Teflon and assholes DO GET TO ME. I made an offhand comment to him about Spook being scared of a neighborlady who yelled at her for petting one of their cats and my dad said, “she needs to get over it”. I said, “And some people are just fucking assholes.” Which lead to him lecturing me that yes, people are assholes and he deals with them every day and me and my kid both need to grow up.

Um…If they don’t end up with a shovel upside their head, that is me being a grown up and dealing with it. There is NEVER going to be a point where I, or my child, gleefully accept that people can be assholes and we have no recourse. Maybe we can’t stop them from being assholes but we have EVERY right to hold a grudge when their asshole behavior leaves a dent in our psyches. Of course, my dad has zero emotional quotient, so nothing gets to him. He was put down from birth by an abandoning drunk bio dad then adopted by a physically abusive dad who made him start working when he was 6 years old. They treated him like shit, gave him zero affection or encouragement or even a fucking occasional hug and so..he is who he is, therefore the rest of us must also be loveless dead inside redneck assholes who just accept that the world is Asshole-a-palooza.

I look at the ‘socially acceptable’ ‘likeable’ people like my dad and stepmonster and R and think man, if I have to lower my enotional IQ that low and cease to feel that drastically just to be considered part of ‘polite society’..fuck that shit. Because being nice to people;s faces then trash talking them behind their backs and criticizing their every move does NOT make you a good person. It just means society,as a collective, is…Asshole-a-palooza. And I am NOT okay with that and maybe my only recourse is to rant and bitch and make sure I don’t assimilate like the fucking Borg. I will never join their collective, even if it just adds to the ignorant stigma of my mental health diagnoses. If not wanting to be an emotionless robot makes me defective and it’s a personality disorder cluster…so be it. Least I am being honest, with myself, and with others.

I miss my kid already. Which is pretty sad since she hasn’t spent the night at her grandma’s in 3 weeks since their kitchen fire. It signals to me maybe I am too dependent on the mom identity and somewhere, maybe I have lost myself as an individual, outside being Spook’s mom. Though were it not for the current extreme states of my depression and panic, I doubt it would feel that way. Mothering her is the only thing I ever feel like I do moderately well. I cling to that. But when I am not in a depression and clawing my own skin off from anxiety…like if I am stable or manic or writing…then a night kid free feels normal and healthy. I was hoping for that this time around but…the forces have decided otherwise.

And no, I am not delusional, thinking some Star Wars fictional forces bullshit. It just takes a lot of things aligning simultaneously for my mental state to be in a ‘good’ place and my toxic father invading my space 5 times in under 18 hours sent me into a downward spiral. The delusional fuck even said he wished the landlord would sell this house to him cheap then I could just rent from him and stepmonster. Oh, dear fucking god, they’ve all but enslaved me just because they haul away our trash, I don’t even want to know the strings of ownership on us they’d claim if they did buy this house. Think Spook and I’d rather live on mom’s sofa.

Oh, but that leads to another stresser. Technically, my mom doesn’t even have a house. Her roommate owns the house they all live in and since their homeowner’s insurance is balking at the $9000 damage the fire mom caused, the roommate is now saying that my mom should have to cough up the four grand deductible insurance won’t pay. When my mom is already paying for pretty much everything, including my nephew’s car and insurance even though he’s 20, married, and doesn’t live there. So there’s a whole other level of drama going on there, my mom said earlier when I dropped Spook off she didn’t even have $20 to her name. So if she can’t pay for the damage she caused, even if by accident, I wonder how long this roommate will play nice. Never mind it’s my sister’s mom in law or that they have all lived together over 21 years at various places…this one the roommate alone paid for in cash and owns, so…I can’t even say we could go live at my mom’s cos my mom…owns nothing.

I am spinning out with panic. Total freak out.

Normally I can distract myself with fiction but…the turn the last episodes of Van Helsing season one took have left me a little off kilter. I do get anxious when it looks like the bad guys are winning and the good guys are losing or turn out to be treasonous backstabbers…Ermagod…spinning out sooooo bad.

I’d say I prescribe for myself a couple of mindless but enjoyable TV sitcoms on tonight but again, that depends on if the antenna is pulling in the right station and…the weather has that acting all fucked up, too.

I had such big plans for today, this evening, for the morning.

Why can’t my dad just leave me alone???? Other than help with the trash haul off every week, I ask NOTHING of them. They are always asking me for shit, though. Walk our dogs, take our man child to work, fetch our man child from work, do our dishes, fill out this paperwork cos your handwriting is better….I ask them for NOTHING. I feel like I am in a fucking prison.

And my mom and sister make it seem so easy. “Tell them to fuck off.”

Yet I remember how hard it was on me and my sister when my dad displeased his parents and they stopped speaking to us for over a year. It hurt us kids cos we loved our grandparents and didn’t understand the adult bullshit and drama and opinions. I don’t want to do that to my kid. I don’t want her to feel that if she loves her grandpa she is disloyal to me. Though she is coming round on her own, finding out now that she is out of the cutesy single digits, they are more harsh on her and far less affectional and gifty. They yell at her, insult her, and she is seeing the truth. Which I have tried to discuss with them and they just call us both big babies and tell us to grow the fuck up. Charming people, my dad and his woman.

At this point, I’d sell myself into servitude to an employer as housekeeper,cook, driver, book keeper, grounds keeper, dog walker, babysitter…if it meant them relocating us far far far from this hellhole near all this family drama that is…about to drive me to a nervous breakdown.

But if I can’t even keep my own house clean and lawn mowed, I don’t suppose I am of much use to anyone right now.


All I really want to do is get under the warm covers and shut out this suck ass reality.

When Spook is here and my job is clear-be her mom- I can keep tying knots into my frayed rope and hang on. Without her here reminding me why I keep fighting what seems like a losing battle against my own father and my own sanity…

I am fucking freaked out.

So much for a productive clear headed calm kid free night to recharge my mom battery.

Everything I read about these days concerning mental illness says that taking control is the answer, controlling the situation so you can feel more…in control. My question is…how can you do that when your own mental chaos is holding you hostage and preventing you from the clear thought you need to regain control?



Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 9, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Obviously I am running out of attention grabbing titles after 8 years of this blog. So I just pulled out the most challenging thing I’ve faced thus far this morning: Brushing my hair. I have thick hair that tangles easily and honestly, it can be a painful chore. Sounds ridiculous but I do try to brush it every day. There was a time, prior to Spook’s birth, when I was between doctors, unmedicated, and I’d go weeks without brushing my hair then have to go to have my mom and sister help brush it out because it was such a mess. I say this with no pride, mind you, it’s just what happened in the past. Bad as things are now, as heavy as that hairbrush felt, as hard as it was to pick it up and cringe my way through all the tangles coming out…I managed it. Does not detract from the fact I went 7 days without a bath, though, that is indicative of how bad the depression is even ‘fully medicated’ by the NP’s standards.

I did bathe yesterday, though. I did a lot of piddly work around the house and got overheated, sweaty, and just felt gross so I FORCED myself to do it. Which when it’s cold amd the heat ain’t working, it is unpleasant AF.

Yesterday was super productive, not that on the grand scale of things I even made a dent toward making the place clean and tidy enough to appease others. But I was able to whittle away somewhat and I felt pretty good about it afterward. Then in spite of a good night’s sleep and little spawn drama, I woke today and whatever ‘got into’ me yesterday and got me moving…it ain’t there today. I feel overwhelmed, sluggish, low, paranoid, cold, my stomach’s wonky…Oh, and to top it all off, the internet went down again yesterday at 5 p.m. and just now came back up at 11 a.m. I FUCKING HATE FRONTIER COMMUNICATIONS INTERNET SERVICE, IT IS GARBAGE!!!!!

I finished watching season 2 of Absentia finally. I quite like the show. Thn again, I like anything that gets me out of my own head for awhile and shows me people with worse problems.

Of course, it also leads to me feeling so utterly useless, purposeless, and…not even alive. This mundane bullshit of midwest existence and normality, while probably better for my anxiety, really deprives me intellectually. Gotta drive two hours just to take my kid to a fucking museum or water park, ffs. Forget concerts. Forget…well, options. And yeah, it’s so simple to say, if you don’t like it, move. When I win the lottery that I can’t afford to play, I will def spend that money to relocate. I know I need out of cold weather but I am currently having some sort of mental love affair with the scenery of Maine. That seems like a good place. Bangor. (Thank you, Stephen King.) Water as scenery as opposed to corn stalks and tractors. I don’t much care for seafood or the smell of dead fish that some oceans have but…It’s a nice fantasy, to think of going somewhere smallish but still able to access more metropolitan places without so much hassle.

My mind is really off track today. The day is half over before Spook comes home and literally, brushing my hair is all I have gotten done. Sad. But it’s the ebb and flow of depression and the more I kick myself, the worse the inertia is. By letting go and letting myself just be…sometimes it leads me out of mental nomad zone and I find a path to walk. Until I forget where I was going and come to a grinding halt. The confusion that comes with panic and depression is frustrating. You just never have any clarity and it’s…not a good way to live.

Nor is being disabled and having people remind you constantly what a loser you are. When I did those dishes for dad and stepmom the other day for ‘trash service’, my brother made a remark about, “Least I have a job” and oh, I could have gone off but I said fair enough. He works 15 hours a week. He pays no bills. He has zero responsibilities. But yeah, sure, he has the right to make me feel shitty when I was more mature at 14 than he is at 24.

I must admit that I am feeling pretty low about myself, seeing all these people around me move on. Even stepmonster is going to school. The chronically unemployed potheads are all working now. I know right now my focus has to be on my child and my own mental health, but it does not change the fact that I DESPERATELY WANT TO WORK. I want my self esteem back. But the world out there, for someone with my disorders, it’s just not feasible. So I wonder, what kind of schooling could I get to enable myself to work from home via computer? I was always fairly book smart and got decent grades so it’s not as if I don’t have the intellect to get some sort of degree that would enable me to regain my self esteem, control, independence, and never have to listen to cruel insults from people who just don’t get it…But I don’t know what interests me other than writing or doing net research or music or TV. I’m willing to work hard. But if you don’t have a clue what your mental state will be an hour from now, how do you commit to a career choice, attempt to get that training, and then hope someone takes a chance on you? Because I don’t think I can attend anything but on line classes. I flail in those situations. I need to work within my limitations, not pretend they don’t exist, bully myself through it, then get all crestfallen when every time it fails.

The confusion…not being able to even feed myself…I haven’t had a morsel of food since Monday. I think about feeding myself then I can’t decide what I want or I forget…then I am too tired to bother. For now, I am bathed, hair brushed, my kid is at school, and…some days that’s as good as it gets. And temps will be dropping into the thirties this weekend so it’s only going to get worse as the seasonal depression kicks in. I haven’t even decorated an iota for Halloween. It’s hard to see success when you can’t even manage your happy place because there is so much confusion.

I think I need an episode of Van Helsing. It’s like Z Mation, with vampires instead of zombies, and I am warming to the idea of this apocalyptic future where it’s fight to survive or perish. Ya know, where people are too busy trying to ration out cans of soup for a week of meals to worry that your floor hasn’t seen a vacuum in weeks. Where rich and poor cease to exist because in an apocalypse, all that shit falls to the side and…survival of the fittest. Not sure I’d be the fittest but I’d be a hell of a lot less stressed if my world didn’t revolve around how clean others think my house is. I mean, sure, don’t live with trash piled up, wash dishes and clothes, try to leave clear walk paths but…why are cobwebs and dust bunnies such a bad thing? And why does it bother me so much when the old me gave zero fucks?

Oh, right, the old me didn’t have a kid some well meaning idiot could have taken away because they think dustbunnies make a home unfit. And yeah, there are people that fussy out there. Sometimes, I wish I could hire one of them to come do all this shit for me because my hardest still isn’t good enough and I have such limited mental resources…it would be a huge weight off my shoulders. And I swear that isn’t laziness talking. I really am a disorganized chaotic thinker and it reflects in everything-my writing, my hygiene, my housekeeping ability…I manage to do so much else and keep going…It would be such a heaven send to have help with the one thing I can’t do well and can’t maintain to anyone’s standard.

It is so not normal to watch shows like Z Nation and Van Helsing and The Passage and think…wow, the future is bleak as fuck but at least I wouldn’t have to worry about housekeeping, just keeping a axe sharpened…

It’s escapism. I don’t even own an axe.

The Ice Cube Trays Of Life

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , on October 4, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Awhile back I wrote a post called Ice Cube Trays, basically telling of the daily struggles one faces with clinical depression. Just refilling ice cube trays-which should take 2 minutes and be no big deal- starts to feel like this insurmountable task. Yesterday I was down to one tray of ice with five empty trays mocking me on the counter. And still it was hours before I could muster up the gumption to deal with them. I did, because I can’t afford to run to the gas station for a $2 bag of ice every time depression kicks my ass but sometimes…it is just so exhausting I will drink things room temp rather than face those empty mocking ice cube trays.

Yesterday was an utter wash. I did NOTHING beyond fix supper and force my screaming child to take a bath. (We’re poor and messy but damn it, we can afford a bath, even if she thinks B.O. is no big deal!) I just could not find my motivation yesterday. The anxiety kept climbing, the depression just deepened. Times like this I miss lithium. The side effects are harsh and long term, feeling nothing gets old, but when you feel things so strongly that it overwhelms…numbness would come in handy. Like Novacaine for the overactive mind. I just can’t hack the nausea and vomiting that lithium causes. I fully believe in it as a wonderful medication for mood stabilization but for those of us who got the worst of the side effects but get the same effectiveness from Lamictal…You got for the lesser evil. I get literally no side effects from Lamictal so I stick with it. It usually works well. But depression and anxiety in the extreme cause you to overheat with emotion so yeah, sometimes you miss the numb of feeling nothing. Sometimes.

Spook and I were in bed by 7:30 last night. I wasn’t asleep til after 9 but I just hit a wall where I couldn’t stand being upright and conscious. I am getting irked now that my old reliable bedtime cocktail isn’t working so well. Frustrating when things just konk out and no one understands why that is, like you want what works to suddenly stop working so you can what, shovel more pills that eventually stop working? Whar kind of mashochist would do that? My entire life has been the quest for the magic bullet, that few as possible pill combo to get me into the right head space.

I woke at 5:45 this morning, to my disgust. It was cold and I have yet to turn on the furnace, which is likely moot cos it stopped working in spring. Which means getting the house ordered, then hoping my forgetful landlord gets someone to look at it before you know, a week… Wish I could just pay for the repairman to come myself, then ask the landlord to knock the amount off the rent. It would be more efficient since he doesn’t even remember he rents to me every month. I put on layers first thing, glared at it still being dark out, and now my feet despite socks feel like ice cubes. There is something seriously wrong with my body’s thermostat. I don’t merely get chilled, I get cold I feel in my hones. Numb tingling toes cold. I’d like to try one of these Embr (?) bracelets that allegedly raise or lower your temp to a comfortable level. Those are pretty pricey, though, so unlikely. And doubtful it’d help my feet cubes. Cos they feel like ice cubes.

I need to do so much and yet…I simply don’t have the energy. I have been waiting for so long for the depression to lift, for the old me to return and get shit done. My kingdom for a good old manic episode. Or some ephedrine. No, I don’t use meth. I grew up with a truck driver father who had to stay awake long stretches and he used to use Mini-Thins. Not saying it was a good habit but it kept me thin and energetic until I hit a wall. Now it’s illegal because of meth users, so yeah, fuck you, too. I didn’t use ephedrine to get high, I used it to be functional. And in all honesty, I haven’t felt that energy since they banned it. Which was probably for the best but I still don’t like it, even if it is what is best for me. Like banning flavored e-cigs but real cigs are still available in menthol, wtf, world? Proof the tobacco lobby is in bed with the government because they’ve known for years cigarettes are deadly yet they keep going (thank God, I’d rip my skin off without a good puff now and then!) but…oh, fuck it, I was going somewhere with that about the government being corrupt but that isn’t news. It’s the new norm and I fucking hate it, too. Geesh, go be a corrupt asshole in private like those who came before you. It’s just easier to hate faceless groups of soulless assholes than to know who the true idgets are and be considered a hater for hating on them personally. And it’s a damn shame when our freedom of speech and right to like or dislike someone based on their actions is considered some sort of hate crime yet the powers that be do it and suddenly, it’s dandy.

Oh, there’s the off topic what the fuck Morgue rant of the week

I’m gonna see if another pair of socks warms my feet and enables me to feel them well enough to walk on them and maybe accomplish something. I’m not holding my breath. The more I want to do something and the more I bully myself, the less likely I am to be successful. Proving that bullying-even yourself- is ineffective and just a dick move.

Sweat And Struggle

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , , on October 2, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I got worked up into a sweaty lather over a non event, essentially. I didn’t read our meal tickets right and it was carry out only, so there was no need to brave crowds and stay there to eat. We drove there, got the premade plates, and drove back home. Of course, logic does not apply to panic disorder. I put on a T-shirt 40 minutes before we left and by the time my kid got home, I had pit stains and had to change again because cold sweat was running down my sides. This is how I can tell normal sweat from anxious sweat, not that sweat is pleasant to discuss either way.

I was furthered frustrated by the fact that I can’t help a 5th grader do math. This common core math is so much utter rubbish. Ten steps to do what I learned to do in two or three steps. How am I supposed to help her with concepts never taught in my day? I can’t attend class with her, the teacher can’t seem to explain it to her, so she started having a hissy fit, the first of many cos some kid on the bus ‘framed’ her for some drama and she was back on the wanting to hear music rant (HEY DON’T BREAK EVERY CD/MP3 PLAYER YOU GET, YOU DESTRUCTIVE UNGRATEFUL SPAWN!) and she absolutely refused to hear me when I tried to talk to her about long division and the teacher saying we need to work on basic facts and how to do the math itself and carry numbers. She has become so unreasonable and it is so stressful.

Then no sooner than we’d eaten her pain in the ass fussy friend was at the door, wanting to come in and um, NOPE. I don’t have room for them to bicker and I can’t handle the anxiety, anyway, not to mention him pointing out all the stuff he has that she doesn’t so she gets pissed at me and it creates drama…I told her she could go to his house for an hour and 15 minutes. Which became an hour because she had to dig her bike out of the shed rather than just walk there. If he’d been riding a greased pig, she’d have insisted on getting one, too. Then she gripes about not having more playtime. Everything is my fault and I am not handling it well. And yeah, I know what a freak it makes me to not allow her friends inside the house. I didn’t used to be this way prior to my Xanax dose going down and being replaced with utterly useless Buspar. Frankly, at the trailer park, we were all pretty much broke and using bedsheets for curtains so there was no ‘keeping up with the Jones’ stress with those kids. These Armpit kids have life a little cushier and aren’t hesitant to point out the house is old, the floor is ugly, the rooms are too small, their TV is bigger…I just don’t need the added anxiety and I don’t need my kid putting more pressure on me financially.

I am already on her shit list because there’s a geo club of some sort that meets once a week at the school but going into winter with heat bills, I can’t commit to having enough gas in the car-and weather and roads permitting- to say she can go every week and I can fetch her. Because I can’t guarantee it. She is disappointed and pissed off and I don’t blame her, but this is reality. She goes to church and their after school program, that’s more than I got to do at her age. I survived.

But I am struggling and the anxiety and self loathing are taking a toll on my self esteem. My kingdom to work from home and be able to afford all the stuff Spook wants. Hell, she is selling pies for a school fundraiser and the cheapest thing in it is $12 which I can’t swing and I talked to our family and none of them can afford it, either. So I battle my mental health issues, I battle my improperly medicated tempestuous child who feels deprived, I battle the money issues…Is it any wonder I am exhausted by 8 p.m and crave only the nothingness of sleep?

It really sucks to try your hardest and still feel like you’re not doing your best. Sucks more when your kid is friends with one of the ‘haves’ and you have to explain why they are one of the ‘have nots’.

Truly heartbreaking, though, is that my child is a bit of a snob and has been putting down a kid at school because he is a ‘nerd’ who likes math and likes to read and isn’t into all the popular stuff. Yet she cozied up to the snotty kid even though he goes out of his way to remind her all he has that she does not.

Okay, maybe that’s my issue but…it bothers me tnat she prefers snobs and uses words like ‘nerd’ as if it’s a bad thing. Being smart and liking math and books isn’t nerdy. It’s courageous to do your own thing without caring what others think. Or so I keep telling myself so maybe one day I will truly believe it. Because on most stuff, I do buy it but when it comes to my failings as a mother-real or perceived- I do care when it seems I am failing her in comparison to the kids who have more. But what I lack in ability to spend on stuff she doesn’t even appreciate and just breaks…I give her my time. That’s gotta count for something.

I hope.

The Reality Of Irrational Fear And Paranoia

Posted in anxiety with tags , , , , on October 2, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I am back to that place of paranoid anxiety, AKA panxiety, where I can barely move from my spot on the bed. I went into the kitchen and I am pretty sure the fridge is making an unusual not good sound. But I can’t be sure because I am so sensitive to noise, just the normal sounds of a working fridge freak me out. Let alone something I don’t recognize. Guess it isn’t fear of the refrigerator itself, but the fear of it breaking. Because honestly, short of living off powdered milk and micro mac and cheese, who can live without a refrigerator? And my landlord does not cover it so should ours break, we are out of luck.

I live in terror of the car breaking down. Water lines freezing or bursting. It brings on paranoia and panic attacks and while I know it is not rational…It does not make it less real or paralyzing.

Fear of going into the bathroom and kitchen lest something be going horribly awry. It sounds ludicrous and yet it…is my reality. Rational thought takes a back seat to panic and paranoia. So many think it’s funny or ridiculous and yet…this is my life. Been awhile since I’ve had this severe a reaction, though. The days I am glued to my spot, as if they will prevent bad things from happening, come and go but when they stick around the entire day…It wipes me out. And the fact that my mind is so cluttered that I can’t recognize normal refrigerator sounds from catastrophic warning signs…It disturbs me. Kinda like driving and never knowing if I have a low or flat tire or if the road is just worn and bumpy.

I am trying to talk myself off this particular edge but I am failing today. Not even TV is distracting me from this heightened awareness of things that could be going wrong as I write this. Purging seemed my last coping option. Sometimes by putting the irrational thoughts and panicky fears into words here, I can reread it and see the distorted thoughts for what they are.

Does not seem to be working today and I can’t help but think it is related to our planned outing for the school chicken dinner later. This is why it is so hard for me to do normal stuff-work, date, go out with others, socialize…It leads to so much anxiety and anticipation (negative) that I basically become a deer in the headlights. And this deer feels like she is about to become roadkill if she doesn’t move out of the way of the oncoming headlights but…frozen. Paralyzed.

I hate panic disorder.

Pop Up Freak Out

Posted in anxiety, panic disorder with tags , , , , on September 25, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Ok, 3 posts in one day, I am over the top but damn it, I kept my shit together for a few days and now…I am FREAKING THE FUCK OUT AND I AM NOT EVEN SURE WHY. Same problems, different day. Being reminded I have to see the psych nurse tomorrow made my mood drop drastically and heightened the anxiety of frustration and hopelessness but…Much like a rabid pop up ad that gets past multiple pop up blockers, panic has set in and my mind is racing and my heart is pounding and I am breaking out in itchy hives from it all. It just came from out of nowhere, this overwhelming sense of panic and paranoia. Panxiety ninjas.

NOTHING happened to trigger it, it literally just came on like a band of ninjas attacking from…well, nowhere. Suddenly the ‘can do, over time’ mental state that was keeping me grounded from a freak out all week vanished and now I am under siege by these ruthless panxiety ninjas. I feel like I am doomed, no way can I ever accomplish everything I need to get done before cold weather hits, before…well, that’s kind of it, before what…I have no idea. I am just panicking and trying to stay rooted in my bed space of safety but my mind keeps galloping ahead like a stampede of horses going at the rate of my heart right now.

I was low, but so exhausted from not sleeping well that I wrote off watching any new shows tonight and decided to return to my usual Frasier bedtime routine. I am very tired. But now I am so scared and freaked out and anxiety ridden and paranoid, the exhaustion has taken a backseat to pure terror. I hit the Xanax stash and chased it with a Buspar (useless for my malignant anxiety and panic disorder, but desperate people with benzo nazis charge will try anything in hopes for relief)…The itchy hives have been coming on for days, which I assumed was because I either skipped or lowered my Benadryl dose but the welts raised on my skin kind of indicate something else is at play. Ya know, like how my panic disorder manifests physically. I’d chalked my gut goblins to food disagreeing with me but now I see it was a precursor.

I was trying so hard to be calm and cool and just survive that I didn’t heed the warning of pretzel gut. Or the itchiness.

All this on top of depression from every angle and hormonally altered thoughts and physical pain…Feeling a bit like life’s punching bag right now. I pray for a good night’s sleep and a brain reboot come morning. I’d say maybe it’d be best if it just stayed at fever pitch so the nurse could see how bad it is but…she’s seen it before and gives zero fucks. Driving in town means I am going to need a modicum of sanity. Tragic H8te ball says…’it remains to be seen’.

Anyone who thinks anxiety is a minor problem is ignorant and has zero clue how drastically it alters your thoughts, functionality, and how it utterly destroys your ability to lead a normal life. I wouldn’t wish this current mental state on an enemy.

Shame I can’t invest in a good pop up blocker for these ninja panic attacks. Then again, I wouldn’t need to if I had competent care properly medicating these crippling panic attacks with the proper med doseage.

At least my kid’s nose is so far in the tablet she isn’t witnessing mom come flying apart.

When anxiety and panic are induced and you can trace the trigger and explain it, you can cope better. But when it comes from out of nowhere you’re kind of at a loss. Like you’d be if attacked by a band of ninjas.

Shitty Internet Service, Panic Attacks, And Fear Of Leaving The House

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

We were without internet service from 3:30 p.m. yesterday until 8 a.m. today. It wasn’t just our house. I got a call from my dad towards 8:30 p.m. and he said their service was down, as well. Way to go FRONTIER COMMUNICATIONS. The cheats left me a week without service due to their repair schedule, didn’t credit my account, and my service is still spotty and it’s town wide. WORST INTERNET COMPANY EVER. Well, I’ve only ever had two, but this is definitely the worst and proof of why I shelled out mega bucks all those years for cable over DSL. I had certain amenities back then, however, that I no longer have, like no child to support and extra income, so I went with shitty Frontier. And the first year was pretty decent, speed and reliability. This year they’ve gone to hell in a handbasket and they have no answers to explain it. Every other week or so the net goes down and we are at their mercy to repair whatever the problem is. Today it’s been up but the speed is so slow I can’t even stream video except in start and stop mode to catch about 90 seconds of video before the buffering starts so I have to pause and lather,rinse, repeat. FFS. Can’t believe I still have 8 months of contract servitude for what amounts to absolutely overpriced shitty non service half the time.

And while not exclusive to Frontier, this has been a long standing issue for me no matter my provider, when the net goes down or lights on the modem/router are a different color than I’ve seen before…I start freaking out that maybe I got hacked and someone’s been using my network to do some shady shit and get my service cut. I pay on line with debit then I get freaked out that maybe the payment didn’t go through cos, well, much as I love computers and the net, nothing is fool proof, shit does happen. (Like the people who had like a hundred grand wrongly credited to their or account or whatever now they’re going to jail for spending some of it.) The panxiety runs riot any time my service goes down and when it goes down for hours on end, my world is uprooted. It doesn’t matter if I wasn’t even using the net, it’s just the fact that it is there if I need it that is like my comfort blankie. Losing that really sends me into a bad mental space. Last night, until I learned from my dad that it was all Frontier customers in town, I was convinced that my payment didn’t post correctly or I got hacked or my kid accessed some government site accidentally and they shut us down and the Men In Black were about to storm the door…Okay, that was dramatic, but still…Panic gives zero fucks about logic.

Jebus, my dad just returned my daughter, invited himself in and immediately says “I smell cat shit.” Well, his nose is magical because I’ve got an occasional whiff of cat pee from when the boys got in through the window screen but I can’t smell shit so it must be in the carpet (not shampooed for three years when we moved in) and I can’t exactly afford to rent a carpet cleaner and god knows they wouldn’t loan me theirs. That man never has a good thing to say, ever. And I HATE people barging in unvited, it has become an even bigger issue for me since they jacked my Xanax dose down so low….

So low I can barely leave the house anymore even to hang clothes on the line outside or sit on the step with my kid waiting for the bus or get groceries…But yeah, by all means, barge in, insult my house, and then wonder why I can’t fucking stand you. He says the place stinks if I use Febreeze or Airwick plugins or generic Scentsy pots. He cannot be pleased. And no sooner than I started to calm down he called to tell me to move my car to the drive out back because the farmers have their big machinery out and they will hit my car out front…

To make the day even better, the neighbors across the street are huge into hammering and using various noisy saws as well as their OCD lawn mowing and car door slamming and car alarms going off and it’s right next to my bedroom window so…HOW THE FUCK IS IT THAT PODUNK IS MORE STRESS INDUCING AND MAKES ME FEEL LESS SAFE THAN 9 YEARS IN A RAMSHACKLE TRAILER PARK?????????????????????????????????

What I need desperately is a friend or two willing to come in with cleaning supplies and help me get this place into shape that even the royal dickwad couldn’t argue with. Obviously on my own I don’t do well enough. Yet their house at one time smelled like cat piss a palooza and you see the odd bug on the wall and oh, one of their cats shits right in front of the back door but, nooo, it’s all okay for them because they own their shitty house and I rent and they put their names on the line for us to get this place…All I recall is an introduction and a “You gotta talk to the man yourself.” But they take all the credit and make it all about them if I am failing (which I know I am, but I am not throwing in the towel just yet, I got a little fight left in me, just hope I can find it sooner than later) and…Man, if I had money sometimes I swear I’d venture to the dark web and invest in a hitman to rid myself of the scourge that helped me spawn me. Okay, no, it’s just fantasy cos I can’t even run over a possum without feeling like a murdereress so I really don’t have that killing thing going on but…

This went sideways as all my posts do, forgive if you made it this far. I’ll show mercy and wrap it up now. Courtesy of my judgmental prick father, the gut goblins are stomping my innards which means heightened anxiety, last thing I needed. If only The Magicians were real, I’d have them cast a spell on the man so any time he went to say something racist, homophobic, or cruel, he’d get a jolt of electricity through his tongue.

I exercised great self discipline and self censorship there because his tongue was not the first place I thought the electrical charge should go to. He really brings out my inner sadist because, well, he’s a sadistic fuck himself.