Archive for mental health

Stop, drop, and panic

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , on August 13, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

My kid has a ‘stop and drop’ for school tonight to take her school supplies and meet her new teacher. I do not want to go. The parking lot will be a madhouse, all those people. All the grades are basically in the same building and teenagers creep me out. (Yeah, yeah, bullying doesn’t hurt anyone, you get over it…NOT, still hate those mean monstrosities because I know the cruelty and torture they can be capable of and it DOES scar some of us for life.) It’s only an hour, which means everyone, their kids, and probably their livestock will be there. Last year I convinced Spook to let me request a day dropoff so I could avoid the panic involved. This year, she wants to go.

Which means I am going to need a bath since I mowed 3/4 of the yard and am all grungy and sweaty. Picking out clean clothes, wearing undergarments, trying to get past the panic and paranoia, not get in a car wreck cos of traffic, and oh, plastering on the smile so I appear perfectly normal when in fact, I feel about as crazy as I ever have.

The paranoia and distorted anxiety induced thoughts are freaking me out. I’ve always had it to an extent, but right now, it has ballooned to ‘loss of touch with reality’ to some extent. Not to mention how this is going to throw off my evening ritual which is part of what calms me down for bedtime and soothes my frazzled nerves. Mash, then Frasier, then sleep. Last night, I had a mini meltdown and panic attack because it rained and our digital antenna wasn’t bringing in any stations. I was on the floor, unplugging the TV, channel scanning ten times, watching the clock because the normal routine was thrown off completely. Eventually I got the station I needed but man…This ‘routine’ rigidity is new for me. I’vw always needed some sort of structure but this is ridiculous.

I guess so many things in my life are out of my control, this is the only way I have of retaining any feeling of having control. It sounds wacky but it makes perfect sense when you factor in all my mental health issues. I’ve always wondered if I have a touch of Aspbergers (however it is spelled) because I have so much trouble making eye contact, instigating social connections, bonding with people, and the desire to just be alone because it is all so difficult…I mean, in theory, I’d love to have a small tribe of likeminded friends, but in practice…even friendships are too much stimuli for me. It truly is overwhelming and anxiety inducing. Not to mention when you have friends there are social obligations, like going out in the petri dish, and that just isn’t me, really never has been me aside from my rare manic or stable periods. Maybe it was all the bullying in school and the dysfunctional family dynamic that screwed me up, though the anxiety and depression do no favors, either.

I am debating whether to finish the last part of the yard. One thing about the pool water still clogging one ear is it lessens the noise of the lawn mower. Bad side, my kid has “Old Town Road’ stuck in my head in a loop and I just wanna scream. It’s like that damn Jonas Brothers song “Sucker”, it gets stuck in my head even though the first time I heard it, I thought, whoa this chick can’t sing, she sucks. I was stunned to find out it was by dudes. I hate loud pitched noises, it makes me need to pee, not to mention what it does to my hearing sensitivity.

I feel so damn broken. So often, especially when I hear about people who are actually contributing to society and having careers and lives, pass away for whatever reason. I ask, what the hell is my purpose here? I’m 46, I still can’t work, my mental health issues are just getting worse by the day…I am a useless drain on society while these talented people are dying WHY AM I FUCKING HERE? I guess it is to raise Spook, maybe she will make something of her life. I sure as hell didn’t, unless you count the sheer miracle of never trying to off myself and surviving the Baskin Robbins menu of mental health illnesses. I really need a sign that I am here for a bigger purpose. To write successfully, to help animals and less fortunate people, to DO SOMETHING GOOD.

Thing is it is damn near impossible to do anything for others when it takes everything you have to manage yourself and what responsibilities you have going on. It’s not a cop out or excuse, it is just plain truth. I need to get well, and stay well mentally, before I can be of use to others. I’ve tried doing it backwards and putting myself out there for others, but all it leads to is them moving on and me getting further behind.

WHY AM I HERE? I feel so…Ugh. Pointless. And reading the news every day is not doing me any favors. Now the dictator in charge is gonna ban immigrants without high paying skills, anyone who has ever used public assistance, blah blah blah. Oh, and let’s not forget this former phone company dude trying to censor the internet where anyone who disagrees with your beliefs can silence you on line. IT IS TERRIFYING.

Oh and one more thing to irk me. A show just said someone was diagnosed with manic depression and bipolar disorder. THEY ARE THE SAME BLOODY THING, DO A LITTLE RESEARCH, MORONS.

Nope, expending energy and getting active by doing all that mowing didn’t ease my anxiety, quiet my mind, or make me feel invigorated. I am still pissed off, depressed, and stricken with terror and panic. Man, I wanted to be one of those happy commercials where someone just takes up physical activity like running or whatever and suddenly they are cured of depression and anxiety. Except that isn’t reality for many of us. Certainly not bipolar two. You can’t give your all when you’re depressed 10 months of the year and barely keeping your head above water.

Incoming stress headache.

I hope my panic and paranoia can at least wait until after I have to take her to stop and drop. When the alarm bells go off and I start viewing everyone as a viable threat…well, the sweating starts, the gut goblins kick in, and…it isn’t pretty but it is nice and humiliating. Egad. Anyone who says I am not doing my best is a fucking moron. That I am still here and not locked up as a threat to myself or others is a bonafide fucking moron. And yes, gratutious cursing is necessary because…well, damn it, I am freaking out and cursing makes me feel better. Oh, fuck. One more thing to worry about tonight. When I panic, I tend to start cussing under my breath then out loud if it gets too bad.

One day I hope Spook can at least look back at all the things I have done for her benefit and think, hey, she wasn’t such a shit mom, after all.

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Random Babble And Crappy Grandfathers

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , on August 12, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

My daughter had a bawling meltdown on the way back from town with her grandfather because she found out the kittens were gone. She was very upset and rather than calm her, he called her an idiot. So she came in bawling and hyperventilating and I had to calm her down. I really want to hunt him down and whack him with a shovel, you don’t call a ten year old an idiot just because she is crying and sad about her kitties going away. What the fuck is wrong with that man? And they pulled off without even making sure I was here for her, which they never do, so they obviously expected me to go off on them and they bailed before I could. What a crappy grandfather. But he was the same way as a father toward us girls. He isn’t exactly warm and fuzzy with our half brother but he does a lot of yelling and name calling and it’s not just his age, he’s always been a heartless jackass on emotional stuff. Now I wish I’d just gone and gotten her myself but honestly, I didn’t think any 72 year old grandpa would have the idiocy to call his grandchild an idiot. And rather than apologize when I confonted him on the phone, he just cussed and said she was having a screaming fit and fuck it, next time the cats can go to the pound. There is no reasoning with that man.

My bright light phobia is on hyper drive now that she is home and keeps running in and out while playing with her friends in the yard. I don’t know when I became so sensitive to bright light, I used to have lava lites and glitter lamps and blacklights and Christmas lights going all the time. Of course that was prior to the Nardil incident that seems to have boiled my brain and turned me into a neurotic crossed wire nutjob. But I can’t help it, every time the door opens and sunlight flows in…I get shaky and paranoid. I wish I could shake it off, but it’s been a bucket of fail.

To combat my sadness over the cats I am rewatching season two of Young Sheldon. Normally comedies don’t fit my mental space but it’s just background noise and occasionally I smirk or laugh. Just too much darkness in my mind, I have been living on youtube crime docs all summer, need to shake it up with a ray of positive.

Still not getting any housework done. Paranoia and panic are a bitch. Another thing I can’t shake off or snap out of no matter how hard I try.

I still have water trapped in one ear from swimming yesterday and it is bugging the hell out of me. Nothing seems to make it pop so I can only hear well out of one ear and have to keep asking Spook what she said. Annoying.

The unmowed lawn is bugging the hell out of me, but it is such a big lawn and so overwhelming to do alone with a push mower. Not that my dad has offered to help since they have riding mowers. He has, however, bitched about how my yard looks. The man is just maddening and the thought he could live 20 more years means 20 more years of perpetual derision for me. I know it’s terrible to think that way but I think it’s also pretty natural to want a negative influence out of your life. Everyone keeps telling me to shut him out and believe me, I have tried. He’s like herpes, he never goes away. The one time I did shut them out we didn’t speak for almost a year and it was a peaceful year. Now that I have the grandchild, though, they aren’t backing off one bit.

Speaking of crappy grandparenting…My kid came home and once she calmed down, she started raising her voice and throwing anger and attitude my way. Every damn time she stays with my mom I have to deprogram her and remind her this shit isn’t going to fly with me. It takes a day or two to get her back to normal, which is why the sleepovers happen maybe twice a month, max. I sometimes wonder if my mom purposely winds her up and talks trash about me so Spook feels obligated to be loyal to grandma and take her anger out on me. Oh, that sounds paranoid and crazy…Still, scumbag brain wonders. My mom is pretty harsh on me and very verbal in front of Spook about my every shortcoming.

I am still on the quest for the pegacorn. A work from home job. Honestly, I think I might have some longevity if I can remain in my sae space and get my thoughts organized on my own schedule. I know most work from home jobs are scams, but I can’t seem to let myself give up on the dream. Out there somewhere there has to be an employer sympathetic to someone with mental health issues who can’t make the world ‘out there’ work so needs something more suited to her abilities. I am dreaming, of course, but hey, dreams are what keep us going through all the mundane garbage.

I just got rejected from a job site based on my email address, it said use a different one. It’s not like I used my primary with murderdoll, geesh. The other one is a color and a big word most people don’t know the meaning of, I fail to see how it is offensive. If that site is that picky, fuck it, we’re not gonna get along. Not like they do me a damn bit of good anyway. I’m basically unemployable, I get it.

Really struggling today with the panxiety and depressive inertia. It seems to take every bit of my strength just to go to the other room for a drink or to use the bathroom. I WISH I knew why the anxiety has metastasized to this degree, it’s frightening as hell. And it makes me feel stupid and humiliating, no one should feel paranoid and nervous to go to the bathroom in their own home.

The mom, mom, mom mantra has returned. I missed her when she was at her sleepover, but damn, it’s just the two of us here, there are times I wish she’d just ask the question instead of yelling mom repeatedly.

The day is wearing on yet my anxiety just soars. I don’t get it. I pissed my dad off royally so he should let me be for the day. Still…the anxiety climbs upward and I look forward only to bedtime. This is so not normal.

I did dishes. That was like scaling a mountain. We have the kitchen curtained off so the AC can cool the bedrooms so the kitchen in this high humidity was like a sauna. I am covered in sweat. As if I need any help there, it took four applications of antiperspirant today because I kept breaking out in that cold sweat down my sides, a surefire sign of panic. Now if only I can find the energy to do a load of laundry. It’s not looking good. The laundromat here is now locked and you have to go ask for the key, thanks to vandals and thieves. What a pain in the ass when you can barely get them washed let alone hauled up there, get the key, do the drying, return the key, drag it all home…Geesh. The universe is really testing my strength right now cos everything just seems insurmountable and hopeless.

My last appointment with NP with the initial nurse intake, she asked me if I was having a lot of headaches. I honestly said maybe twice a month I get one. I have had a headache six days in a row now and I think, from the knots in my neck, it has to be stress related. This panic and anxiety are really doing a number on me physically between the stomach issues, headaches, tense muscles, and panic attacks that manifest physically. I don’t know how to fix it. I do know it alters my thinking and perception to a level that I am very ill at ease with.

It’s 5 p.m. and I feel immense relief with every passing minute. The sooner I can shake off the daily anxiety and take solace in the fact door knocks, calls, and visitors taper off around 7:30…the better. Then I can seek more solace in sleep, even if we are getting low on melatonin and I don’t know if I am gonna have the nards to venture into the donor’s store to buy more.I’m the cowardly lion when the anxiety and paranoia overload my circuits.

Woohoo, I fixed supper. Okay, I used a Frydaddy to do tenderloins and curly fries, but it counts. Ten minutes in the kitchen sauna is about all I can handle.

Oh joy, it is nearing 8 p.m. which means it is time for my sleepytime cocktail and several hours of peace from my racing paranoid distorted mind. My favorite part of the day, sadly. I love my time with my child and my cats but this depression and anxiety is putting me through the ringer. I welcome the respite of sleep…When my every waking thought is not about ‘is it bedtime’ yet, only then will I say if Zoloft is helping at all. Time will tell.

Sad Day

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , on August 12, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Well, it is indeed a sad day for us. My dad just hauled away our six kittens since the powers that be in Armpit were bitching about too many cats. It broke my heart but I knew I had to get it done to avoid further trouble with the village and neighbors and at least this way, they are getting a home on a huge farm where the farmer likes cats and feeds them well. I couldn’t bear for them to go to the pound and the only no kill shelter never has room for cats. I also wanted to do it before Spook got home because I know it’s gonna upset her something fierce.

I did keep three of my big cats. Two were okayed as outdoor cats when we moved in by the landlord (and I can’t be disloyal to the ones who came first) and the other kind of comes and goes between here and the neighbor lady who loves cats. It already feels so lonely. The kids across the street loved coming over to sit in the yard and play with the kittens. I know, too many cats is a bad thing, but they stayed in our yard and hurt no one. I was gonna try to find them homes like I did for the others but no one wants plain cats. The white blue eyed ones were snatched up fast. Truth is, the plainer ones had better more loving personalities. But I trust this farmer, he has taken our cats before when I was taking in strays and dad has taken some of their kittens there and from what I understand, all are still alive.

I really enjoyed going outside to feed them every day and talking to them and getting nuzzles. Not that my indoor cat Godsmack isn’t lovey dovey sometimes. But I do think she is lonely by herself. Not much I can do about it, according to the lease. And above all else, I have to keep my kid sheltered so losing the place, no matter how much I hate it, isn’t an option. So while I feel relief they have a home and won’t be swooped up by the pound…I am also very sad. Spook is gonna spaz out, but knowing her, it will pass quickly and she will vent her hatred on me but then she will move on. I feel shitty cos I told her she could keep one outside but thanks to the buttinskis in this hell hole, no go.

I’m not a farm person and I don’t like living in Bumfuck, let alone the country, but when it comes to my cats…I’d love to live far enough away from assholes who complain so they could just roam and we could still have our babies. I know I am in the wrong, but damn, my dad has like 8 cats inside, my sister has like 11. But they own their homes so it’s different, I guess. And since I am such a shit housekeeper, I guess having more than one cat would be overwhelming long term.

Sorry to keep flood posting, but my brain is very busy today and my emotions are really tumultuous. My anxiety just keeps rising even without major triggers. I even asked dad to bring Spook home since they were going to town. I was dreading the trip to town cos of the bad juju in my gut so this spares me the stress of that. Spook was unhappy when she found out but whatever, she will survive. Now…to accomplish more than just running the hell machine called a vacuum and filling ice cube trays. Don’t need a magic 8 ball to say it’s not looking good, thanks to this damn panxiety keeping me in my safe space. I call it the ‘deer in the headlights’ state. You know something’s coming and should move, but you’re frozen there and splat.

I miss our kitties already. Pet therapy is the best therapy of all and now…It’s for the best, I gotta keep telling myself that. Even if I can’t make myself totally buy it. Because my heart is bigger than my brain when it comes to cats and we were very close to these babies. Seeing them go…hurts. And it just fucking sucks.

The Mom Files

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , on August 12, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I try not to make this space too kidcentric because I know it can grate on the nerves, especially since this a mental health themed space. But as a single parent who does have a plethora of mental illness, it is relevant because it is such a balancing act and struggle trying to make sure I’m not screwing her up with my issues.

Last night she stayed with her grandma. I had a kid free night. I had a few drinks (yes, bad girl, I know) and texted a wordpress friend, which I really enjoyed. She’s a kickass woman, also raising kids, and the more I get to know her, the more it seems we have in common. I don’t know how that would translate in real life since I fuck up everything relationship/friendship I have (usually because I am depressed and anxious and people can’t handle it, so they run off and I shut down and keep everyone at giraffe neck’s length to protect myself from further hurt and rejection.) Not to say I don’t make mistakes and repel people, I am sure that is part of it. But if I retreat to loner space, it does make it harder to let people in. But in all fairness, it was NICE to talk to another adult mom about a little bit of everything. I doubt without the drinks I’d have had the courage to ‘bother’ her with so many texts but I just hope she reads this and knows how much it meant to me that she bothered to wish my kid a happy birthday via text then spent the evening keeping me company.

See, much as I need a break from my kid, after the first few hours…I become lost. Being a mom is all I have known for ten years. She is the only thing that gets me up in the morning and keeps me from giving into the dark thoughts of distortion and hopelessness. When she isn’t here, I am not sure what to do with myself. When I am stable, I usually have stuff to keep occupied. When in a deep depression and anxiety cycle…Mom-ming is the only thing I can manage with any aptitude and consistency. No Spook, no mom-ming, and I am adfrift.

At the pool yesterday, watching her splash and have fun with all the attendees, I just stood for a moment and stared at her laughing and having a blast and thought, my god, she’s beautiful, I haven’t done such a bad job on my own raising her. I just look at the young lady she is becoming and beam with pride, not for myself, but because she really is her own person. Smart, funny, creative, a great artist…My mom and the donor and my dad always say I can’t get along with anyone who isn’t exactly like me and that is patently false. I love people who have common interests but are their own person. Spook has her own personality and she is so outgoing and loves people so much, she is nothing like me in that regard. I love her just the same. My problem with others is that the relationships are rarely fair or balanced. They get to vent their problems but if I try to talk about my mental health battles, they seem to burn out and bolt. Like I want to talk about it. But when it is at its worst, I need to talk about it, and I thought friends were supposed to listen and be supportive. When I don’t get this from relationships, I do pull away and simmer and stew and…it blows up in my face and I look like the asshole. But with my daughter…we butt heads when I tell her ‘no’ to stuff but we are super close, super affectionate, and for now, she loves her mom and needs me. As teen years approach I envision my heart shattering as she pulls away and I am nothing more than someone to roll eyes at and rebel against.

Last night without her here, I found myself snuggling the little throw pillow she bought me with her birthday money. It made me think of her and how thoughtful it was of her. I miss her. I have not rushed to go fetch her, though, because well…the panxiety is rioting and this would be a bad time to drive. I figured I’d wait and see if she calls to ask me to come get her. Otherwise, she is having fun likely playing with the dog there so…let it be. My neediness is not her problem.

Okay, so I’ll stop waving my ‘my uterus did its job and produced a kid’ pompoms but the challenge of raising a well balanced child who knows she is loved when your moods change and you live in paranoid terrified darkness…It’s difficult. The stakes are so high because you don’t get a do over with a kid. If you mess them up, it’s for life. And I worry about it constantly. I just do my best and pray for the best and I’m not even religious. I am trying very hard to parent her even while technically, my mind is very ill, and people seem to think this means I am cured or doing ok. Well, I am hanging by a frayed thread so every day I survive and get to go to bed and wake up the next morning and my kid is still smiling and happy…

I’ll take the win. There are parents out there without mental health challenges who bail on their kids because it’s too hard. I’ve been here since day one and I am not going anywhere. She was failed by one parent. I cannot fail her. I can only love her, hug her, and interact with her to the best of my ability and hope it is enough.

As for her P.O.S donor…I can’t do a damn thing about his idiocy in rejecting her but I can encourage her to keep an open mind and give him a chance and I will seethe and hate him for both of us. If ever an ex deserved the right to feel hatred, it is me or any other parent who ended up doing it alone because some weak spineless donor/incubator bailed. The kids are the one who suffer and that is worth every ounce of contempt I have for him. Because it ain’t about us not working out, it is about his choice to shun her for 8 years now without so much as a birthday card or returning her email.

This man is the very definition of a lousy parent and he made the choice so he can only blame himself.

Maybe he is why I have tried even harder to battle my mental demons and still be a good mom and dad. I am all she has. Failure is not an option. Let’s just hope that love truly does conquer all and she remains a happy well balanced young lady.

56 Minutes

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , on August 12, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

56 minutes since I woke up and already the panic and paranoia are in the stratosphere. I wish to God I could explain why but aside from the depression and panic distorting everything I guess it’s just generalized anxiety disorder on steroids. Except I didn’t give it permission to take those steroids and metastasize.

When things take this dark turn, everything becomes a threat. I need to go to town today to fetch my kid from her grandmother’s. So of course I am filled with dread and paralysis, convinced it’s bad juju. I had some of this yesterday when we got to town and the uneven city streets made it sound like I had a tire going flat. Even when we got on a well paved smooth road, the seed had been planted and I got even more paranoid and frightened. I never learned to change a tire and I regret that now. Then again, with my lack of attention span and inability to do things mentally in an ordered fashion…I’d probably forget to tight something or get crushed under an improperly used jack so my reasons for not learning were not logical, but certainly explainable. Maybe one day I will learn to conquer it, like I did with the power lawnmower last year. In my current paranoid state lacking all self esteem…It isn’t going to be any time soon.

Ugh, lawnmowers. My yard is becoming shaggy and an eyesore but it’s raining and thundering right now so my plan to tackle it today is shot. Frankly, I am in ‘stick to your safe spot’ mental space so even though I need to start whittling away on laundry and housework…I can’t seem to make myself leave my safe spot. This distortion of perceiving everything as threat is terrifying. I know I am not thinking clearly. I know I am letting things slip into uncontrollable ten times the work territory. I WANT desperately to just go into manic whirlwind mode and tackle it all and yet…it ain’t happening as long as leaving my bedroom makes me feel panicky and unsafe.

One thing I will say. Since I started the Zoloft, I have actually been sleeping through the night. But I still can’t get to sleep without my benadryl/melatonin cocktail. And the weirdest thing is, I take the whole pills at the same time, it doesn’t work. The only thing that works is breaking them in half, then taking the benadryl, then the melatonin, then alternate until the four broken pills have been taken. An hour or two later I get super sleepy and drift off. The other night I got brave and decided I’d try to just take the melatonin whole. FAIL. I was still awake at 1 a.m. So I had to resort to the split cocktail. And weirder still, regular melatonin does not work. At all. It has to be the melatonin with B6 and what sucks is the only store that sells it is where the donor works and I despise going in there and having to see him. Not for me, but for Spook. I just want to grab that man by the throat and scream in his face HOW DARE YOU BREAK THAT LITTLE GIRL’S HEART AND MAKE HER FEEL SO REJECTED. Yes, I am a decent mom and I see to her needs but much as she has never known a dad…I know it hurts her to see friends who have dads in their lives even in their parents are divorced and iot breaks my fucking heart. I don’t care what denial laden bullshit he has convinced himself with, there is NO excuse for his treatment of her. And sometimes I wonder if he does it because he KNOWS it was the one thing I asked him to promise, that even if we didn’t work out, not to shun Spook, and by not keeping that promise, he is still causing me pain after 8 years apart.

Ha ha ha. The counselor told me six years ago I needed to let it go because I can’t control his behavior and ultimately it is his responsibility but it doesn’t make it any easier when I think of how this could screw Spook up for life and taint her relationships with men. Even now she goes on tirades that her only friends are boys and she prefers girls. Even down to her doctors, they have to be female. I suppose it’s normalish, I prefer female doctors myself but only because they have the same parts so they know what I am talking about when I complain of cramps or whatever. Men may be trained, experienced, and make the right noises, but they simply cannot know what it is like to have female health problems. Still the best therapist I ever had was a man so it’s not like I am inflexible…Oh, god, am I screwing her up with my own neuroses?

Well, that tangent was completely unexpected and unnecessary. But purging is all that keeps me from the Rubber Ramada. If the depression and anxiety get much worse, I may end up there anyway. I fight it with everything I’ve got, though, because once you admit defeat and go into a psych hospital…you lose your credibility as a decent parent. Physical illness, oh, you need to take care of yourself, we will all help out. Mental illness..crickets or criticism. The way of my family, the way of the world. Attitudes are changing but not fast enough. Stigma is paralyzing to the point people don’t seek help and that is fucked up.

Okay, I am starting to come back to Earth mentally. I blew my measly daily allotment of Xanax first thing because I was really in petrified panic mode and it wasn’t going away on its own. I am still frozen in place cos I feel safe in this spot but…my mind is slowing down. Bad juju abounds still. And I don’t mean to trivialize or make it humorous when I call it bad juju, it’s just the best explanation I have of what it feels like without coming off as some superstitious nutcase. That knot in your belly, that tremor in your hand, that sense the walls are closing in and leaving the house will end in disaster of some sort…Bad juju.

Time to wrap things up, Morgue, no one can make it through these novel length posts. Yet they are necessary for me and it’s not like my shorter or brief posts garner anymore readers. I guess I am just a boring broken record and yet…This is my experience. This is what I am feeling and going through and I have always prided myself on that transparent honesty. I won’t change it now, even if it could garner more readers. I didn’t start this space to get popular, though in my current weakened “hate myself’ space…gotta admit even a like feels like some sort of validation. Which makes me wonder why I am so in need of validation. I’ve been fucked up by so many people including family, I guess I will take whatever ‘hey, I get it’ validation I can get. I feel pathetic but this is my story. I can’t paint it shiny when it’s tarnished as hell. And putting on the mask of normalcy may serve to make others less uneasy since they can’t handle the darkness of mental health issues…The mask does nothing to illuminate how bad the depression and anxiety are. If even one person reads it and it resonates and makes them feel less alone…That feels validating, too.

Time to start bucking up so I can go get my child. The bad juju makes the simplest things so difficult. The depression makes the simplest task exhausting. I am trudging uphill in molasses with thoughts that have little to do with reality and all I can do is keep going and collapse occasionally to recharge. I wish the ‘normals’ got how bad it is but alas, I don’t think that will ever happen. It’s a sad statement about the intelligence of otherwise smart people, not grasping the severity of mental health issues. Their ignorance really makes our lives even harder, as if we need more challenges.

It is what it is.

Survival Of The Unfittest

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

The circus party went pretty well, aside from my mom going off on one of my sister’s male friends. He had the audacity to say that kids need a few swats on the butt on occasion cos they have no discipline…and she went off the deep end about how spanking is abuse and she called him an abuser and it went on for 15 minutes. Personally, I am on his side, I agree kids need discipline. If it makes me an abuser that I have swatted my kid’s butt several times over ten years, so be it. I never used a belt or paddle, I never left marks, and I learned the meaning of that oldie but gooodie parentage, “This will hurt me more than it hurts you.” Even one swat made me feel such guilt, I just..couldn’t adopt it as a legit method of discipline. What I found, though, is that 90% of the time, swats on the bootie do no good with my kid. Taking away her electronics and friends, though, reboots her attitude and she becomes more cooperative (briefly) so…I will stick to what works best. Still..I am not gonna be shamed for the rare occasion she goes off the deep end and a swat on the butt is all that gets her attention before she hurts herself or me. My mom’s dementia is making her more demented than her norm, and I feel bad for her, cos genetics suck and you can’t control or change them but…she has battered me verbally for ten years over my every parenting choice/action so…she gets what she gives. I just do it without screaming and belittling her and my sister lives with her and said you just have to blow it off, mom’s kinda nuts even if it isn’t her fault.

What it boils down to, and what matters, is while my mom and sister’s girl friend chose to sit out the swimming…there were ten of us in the pool having a hella good time and Spook was happy, having fun with her mom, her aunt, her cousin, friends, a baby her cousin in law brought with her…I kinda broke the ice when I decided to stop being a wuss and went down the slide and off the low and high dive then my sis and her friends felt like they could do it too, age be damned. I promised my kid I would embarrass myself for her enjoyment by going off the slide, doing both dive boards, and going into the kiddie pool with the mushroom waterfall..And I kept my word and inspired people YOUNGER than my 46 years to just say fuck it and have a good time. The saving grace was the gray weather and constant threat of rain which made the pool very..not busy. Maybe 25 people even with the ten of us. It was nice. The water was freezing at first but once you went under and got accustomed…it was okay. We all pickled quickly, my fingers couldn’t have been scanned electronically with any accuracy cos my fingers ballooned so quick…But WE ALL HAD FUN. And unlike when I was a kid and the pool was packed and the lifeguards rode your ass for even splashing…It was fun. For the first hour, then I started losing interest. But we toughed it out til it did start to rain. (In all fairness, I lose interest quickly even in stuff I normally find entertaining so much of it is my depression, people REALLY need to stop taking MENTAL HEALTH DISORDER as some sort of person affront.)

Spook battered me into letting her spend the night there which normally wouldn’t be a bad thing…But it meant me carrying everything in by myself which kinda sucked. Not that she is much help lately. She helped out more when she was younger. I am trying not to take it personally but I told her earlier…this a time I need help the most. I am so behind on all the housework and it’s getting gross even for my low standards…But I can;t do dishes, laundry, vaccuum and mow the lawn all at the same time by myself. One would think my dad would help out and mow the lawn since they have like THREE riding mowers and could do it in under an hour. But NOOOOO, my asshole father won’t help, no, it is better that I spend four fucking hours with a push mower on a football size lawn. I gotta admit, much as he pisses me off, he also hurts me. They have a 24 year old man child who works 15 hours a week, they spend $50 a week taking him there and back cos he ain’t bright enough to drive anywhere but Armpit (where the dumbfuck backed into my car and fucked up two of the doors cos he didn’t hit the brake even after he smashed into us!!!!)….he pays no rent, no bills, nothing for food, they even buy his phone time…and I was told at 16 to get a job or get out..So hells yeah, that pisses me off. Wouldnt’t have killed the fucks to come mow my lawn while I was at the circus today. But it is just much more satisfying for them to critique me and make me feel shitty than help. I wish I had $50 to spare to pay someone to mow it for me cos I truly am buried at this point with all that needs done. I know, it’s my fault for letting it slide, but…If I were recovering from a broken bone or surgery, people would be dropping to help out. But since my illness is invisible and mental…doesn’t count.

That will NEVER make me stop wanting to smack people with a metal shovel upside the head. I recently read a post about someone who got a new job and she listed all these coworkers who were prattling on about their depression, their anxiety, their panic…But it’s obvious their issues are normal stuff. These are not people so fucked up they can’t step out the front door cos a ‘mob’ of 4 fifth/sixth graders are in their yard. THAT is my damage. It is not overdramatized, it is how I felt at that time. I truly believed those kids were a threat. I told myself I was being ridiculous, I bullied myself, but it did not change a fucking thing. Mental health issues are not something you snap out of cos someone is mean to you. You feel it until that mind state passes and then…maybe you feel it again, and again, and maybe one day you don’t. Roll of the dice.

Okay, so that was a disjointed ramble from hell but…

Aside from my mother’s explosion (and it wasn’t me but she had a kid doing grand theft auto and robbery before age 18,so her parenting method was awesome)…it was a good time for Spook and for most of us. Hopefully I will sleep like a corpse tonight. Wait, was that offensive to the dead? FUCK. Now I am in guilt ridden second guessing mode. Hate it.

The only thing I hate more is…THE DONOR failed to even email Spook on her birthday…and today my sister went to the store where he works and he sold her the birthday balloons…yet didn’t even ask her to wish his kid a happy birthday. I mean, I get it, I am fucking scary (I Guess, if you’re a spineless jellyfish) but…he saw my sister, waited on her, and didn;t even think, oh damn, I missed my kid’s birthday for EIGHT years in a row…Yet MY LAWYER is sending him reminders to get his kid a gift and he still doesn’t do a damn thing…

I feel like such a dick for choosing such an ass trash father for her. And yeah, I say father, because that is genetics and DNA. But to be a DAD,,,you need to be present and give a damn. I wouldn’t even miss my CAT’S birthday, for fuck’s sake. Yet he does nothing for any of his 3 kids and still convinces himself he is a good man. I don’t even relate to that level of denial and delusion and half the time these days I can barely step out my front door cos my anxiety leads to so much paranoia and feeling threatened…But I still can’t let it rob my child of her birthday, for fucks’ sake. I wish I could just give his address and ask a bunch of random people to send him a post card about how shitty he has treated my little girl, HIS little girl. But last time I called him a deadbeat he sicced my stepmonster on me for maligning him. Hmmm. You walk out without your kid having food or diapers, miss 8 years of birthdays, lose more jobs than you keep, never self report to collect child support..THAT IS THE DEFINTION OF A DEADBEAT PARENT. I hope he fucking still reads this. He has villified me to the nth and maybe I deserved some of it.

Spook NEVER EVER deserved this level of abandonment, rejection, and disrespect.

Oh crap,my benadryl and melatonin cocktail is kicking in, I don’t even comprehend if I am spelling properly or typing properly. Time to go.

That was today’s circus. At least I get along well with everyone BUT my mother.And Spook had a great time. Ultimately, none of the adult drama counts for shit, it is about the child. She had fun, she got a sleepover, and tomorrow she will come home to a new tablet (with a smaller screen but dual facing cameras, which is what she asked for)…so…

I wish the circus had some lions and tigers and bears oh my, and some goats and a miniature pony and a seal balancing a ball on its nose…Least I wasn’t wrong about there being some bullshit drama. My mom never lets me down on that. I’d love to absolve her by saying it’s the dementia but she’s always been kinda nasty. She didn’t earn the nicknames ‘pit viper’ and ‘hateful mcnasty’ without cause.

I kinda envy those nicknames, though. They sound pretty badass.

My mom…more venomous, less badass.

Least she loves my kid and doesn’t go off on her. YET. Take the small wins, right?

Circus Day

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

1 hour, 45 minutes til the circus called my kid’s late birthday party begins in town. I am dreading this debacle, as I do every year, because my mom and sister go way overboard and most of the people there aren’t our relatives, friends, or even Spook’s friends. And yesterday my mom went on and on about how much my sister spent on this that she didn’t have to spend and over and over she just kept telling Spook how much my sister spent on this and she only paid part of her power bill so she could and I just grimaced my way through it, fighting the urge to say, “No one fucking asked you to turn a simple party into an expensive circus!” That was annoying and angering, money, money, money, whoever spends the most loves Spook the most. I did get a moment of validation when I told my kid no to something and she did her turn on a dime and started yelling and getting aggressive with me. (I said the ADHD meds are helping, they aren;t curing bratty behavior.) Then my moment was crushed when my mom snottily said, “SHe would never do that to me or your sister because she knows we won’t let her get away with it.” The woman is bonkers. She doesn’t believe in spanking, she doesn’t believe in standing kids in corners or taking their shit away from them or grounding them. What discipline method does that leave me with but to lecture deaf ears? Besides which, we had a pretty good week, she waited til she had an audience to go off on me, so I think Spook is just pulling her usual drama llama bullshit and trying to pit us all against each other.

This family stuff is so stressful, it just sucks. But you can’t divorce your family and when a grandkid is involved, well, you get tugged in ten directions when the kid likes the family members who are so damn cruel to me. Most of the time I just let her spend time with them and remove myself from the equation. Then I get accused of being a hermit, stuck up, thinking I am better than them…I am surrounded by people with the self awareness of belly button lint. They have NO clue their own behavior is why I don’t spend time with them.

It’s supposed to rain today which is crushing Spook since part of the party was going to the pool. Well, we can’t control the weather so if she gets pizza and cake and her presents, she’s just gonna have to suck it up. We would have done it last Sunday but she had to go to her friend’s party so this is the way the cookie crumbled.

Yesterday, the anxiety wasn’t too bad. I even dealt by phone with my dad without too much trauma. I saw my mother and survived. Did battle with a hateful child. The anxiety didn’t kick up til later (along with a pounding migraine) til evening and man, I just wanted it to stop. I could feel my heart beating in my head and my gut, it was so bad. Then I realized I’d gone 20 hours without a Xanax and I TRIED to take one. It got stuck on my tongue three times before going down finally and by then the bitter dissolved taste stuck around a half hour, gagging me. What a waste of a Xanax. Then I started pacing to the door the later it go since Spook went to some Podunk fish fry with dad and his crew. I’m usually okay til hour four, then I start pacing to the door every three minutes. I don’t really know why, it’s not like I think they’d let anything happen to her. Guess it’s just my high strung nature and my attachment to my child where I am only truly reassured is when she is with me. (Yeah, that’s rich, I know, thinking she is only safe with my unstable ass).

My only solace is that the day will pass quickly. I HATE being around all those people that aren’t even our family or friends. These parties are more for my mom and sister to outspend me and show Spook I don’t love her as much as them. Ten years of this bullshit, I am worn the fuck out. I just want it over with. Besides which, nothing satisfies my kid truly, no matter how much money you spend, she always wants more. I guess that’s just a kid for you, but I have noticed that her happiest times aren’t with expensive gifts. It’s usually dollar store slime or whatever that really holds her interest. Though with all the glitter and muck now polluting my biohazard home, I am slimed the hell out.

Okay, that concludes this rant. More will follow, IF I don’t end up slapping my mother with a shovel.I really gotta get one of those purse sized shovels.