Archive for panic attack

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.

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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.

Devilation Long Post

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , , , , , on October 22, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

Yes. It okay to groan and say, “Crap, Morgue is making up words again. WTH is devilation?”

Frankly, it is my blend of deviation + devil. Because the tiniest deviation sets off my panic receptors, sends my brain reeling, paranoia soaring, and quite frankly…makes me a little bonkers. Therefore deviation must be caused by the devil himself.

Case in point: yesterday’s shrink appointment. I normally don’t have Friday appointments so I was unprepared for the deviation from the normal protocol. Instead of my usual check in point, I had to go the opposite side. Where I was made to stand at the glass 5 minutes even though three different staffers saw me standing there. Anxiety mounting, paranoia going willy nilly. Instant panic. Because THIS IS NOT THE RIGHT WAY, THIS IS DEVIATION. Devilation.

It occurred to me with all the changes and all the unfamiliar staff members, what if they changed shrinks on me and didn’t tell me? NOOOOOOOOOOOO.

By the time the nurse took me for weight and blood pressure…my normally perfectly normal pulse…was up 20 some odd points. Because…Panic. To top it all off I had shark week cramps which had kept me in bed sleeping most of the day and I was all sorts of off kilter.

I was further thrown when the shrink I’ve been seeing for 2 years addressed me as Miss (last name) rather than the normal “Niki.” WTF? Three months without an appointment and suddenly he’s forgotten me and has to go formal?

All in all…it was a decent appointment. Though the longer he let me talk and he listened…all I could see was the clock ticking, knowing anything over 10 ten minutes, the insurance gets charged over $250 for a 25 minute session. And insurance companies may be the devil, but I never want to use more than I absolutely need. So I felt panicked and paranoia and guilty.

He asked how I was doing. I said “sucky”. Which is a highly technical term in the psych field, ya know. I explained all the crap that’s gone wrong in recent months and how while not in the bathroom sobbing…I am definitely not coping well.

He observed, “You are obviously not doing as well as you were.”

Yep. Ya know, the four days without a shower greasy hair, the broken out skin (thanks stress and pms), the fact I was on full alert as if awaiting a ninja attack…I explained about the daily challenge of my daughter. Who this week started yelling DIE MOMMY DIE… Three minutes later,she hugged me and apologized. Then went to screaming how I am the worst mom on Earth. It’s hard enough to balance my own mental shit, now I walk on eggshells with her.

Shrink suggested something (not sure of spelling) neurotonin? as an excellent possibility for mood stabilization, depression, and anxiety.

I did not dismiss it out of turn but when he said “We’ve tried everything else.”

Oh…That was when my inner badass emerged and I said,”There’s one thing none of you have tried in the 7 years I’ve been coming here. Draconian as my old doc was, this was the ONLY thing he got right.”

So Dr. B asked me what it was we could not have possibly discussed already.

I explained about how my functioning was so much higher at the 1mg Xanax three times a day. I jumped on the defensive because I’ve had six docs in a row fight on even giving me Xanax so I was prepped for a “I’m not a junkie or selling my pills, this is just what worked well.”

I nearly hit the floor when he said, “I can definitely raise your Xanax, I am fine with that because I trust you.”

Well, fuck a fancy bag. First doc in ten years that’s been willing to hear me out and go there.

He was baffled how it’s never come up before and I hung my head, wringing my hands and tried to explain all the trouble I have had over the years with EVERY doctor from their center over the Xanax matter. You get to a point and think, oh, why bother when you’re gonna be treated like a junkie and shot down.

He reiterated, after making it clear he almost NEVER prescribes Xanax, that he trusts me because I am a straight shooter and I am doing my best to get well. Ya know, that recognition felt pretty damned good after having been reduced all those years to little more than a “statistical addict.”

I told him that of all the anti anxiety drugs and doses…this was the one that helped me the most. And I elaborated about how baffled I am by Adderall and Xanax being considered “party drugs” and abused. There is NO high for me. It just corrects what is wrong with my brain. He agreed and explained that the people who get high have all the normal levels so taking these meds does get them “high” whereas my serotonin levels and such are abnormal so the meds just put me where I should have been born.

I briefly touched on my frustration with being on disability and being broke and wanting so desperately to work…That I’ve looked into call centers from home, virtual assistant work, anything to get off disability and give my kid a better life. To which he said, “I see how hard you try and how much you struggle. The thing is, Niki, you are very smart. I have schizophrenics who are highly functioning so they can’t get disability. If you were granted it, you demonstrated your efforts and you EARNED it. And it’s a pittance, anyway, so you’re not living in luxury.”

I FUCKING LOVE THIS MAN.

S0 in spite of the devilation upsetting me so much…It was a good appointment. He raised my Xanax, kept all else the same, set me for two months, and agreed if I am still depressed then and my functionality lowers any more…he will increase the Pristiq. I am pleased with this.

Already, three 1mg doses in, I am feeling steadier. Is it a placebo effect? I don’t think so. I think this would have rescued me years ago if it weren’t for all the narrow minded shrinks grouping everyone together as pill junkies. I don’t know that it will help the depression,but if it calms the anxiety…Praise the sacred pegacorn.

On other notes…Twice this week I received sweet gestures of kindness from two people only known via internet when they commented on my blog. One I struggled with because I know they are not in any better position than I am to spare $. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful or rejecting but in the end, I really felt they should take that wonderful offer and spend it on themselves for they deserve it. On the other hand, the other gesture offered came from someone who is apparently in a better position and approached out of the blue after reading a post of mine…And I agreed to accept that offer for it was extended out of the blue for something I want very much and simply can’t afford. I worry I might have hurt someone’s feelings but truly…When someone struggles as much, if not more than me, I feel sooo lousy taking from them.

(Unless my cats need vet care, then we all know I will rob a newborn cos, well I am insane for cats.)

The news with my uncle has not been great. Twice, the hospital scheduled surgery but he is so compromised by chemo, they’ve decided there is less risk to not operate right now in spite of his aneurysm (however the fuck it is spelled). The local hospital insisted the aneurysm had grown so they transferred him to big hospital out of town, now that hospital says he’s in less danger to leave him be for now. WTF? Apparently our local hospital, currently being sued by a woman whose husband was sent home and later died due to their negligence, wants no responsibility for high risk patients so they farm them out but still send a bill triple the costs of a normal urban hospital.

This shit is infuriating.

R requested something of me yesterday I found truly nutsy kookoo. He asked me to bring home this flat screen main board (motherboard) and bake it in my oven. I was like WTF? But I did it anyway and all the kids were so amazed  that I baked a Tv part…Guess what? He popped it back into the TV and now it actually works. Something to do with the ball grid array technology, the oven apparently heats it up and makes things work properly. Now I can say in addition to broiling my baby Wet and Dry when I was 8…I’ve baked a TV motherboard.

Today was going swimmingly, aside from my inability to get my ass out of bed because well, I was cold and some dreams were annoying ( R making more demands for parts, me hitting my old car with my current car) and some sex dreams (can you say, I went off my lithium and my nethers work again???)…Stepmonster stopped by to give the cats some of their leftovers. She ordered Spook to pick up the yard and after that…Spook was all about cleaning. She did my cat boxes, rinsed the dishes I washed…

And then one of her friends showed up and since then it’s been 4 kids screeching and bickering and me wanting to yank out clumps of hair. No deviation here, same old same old.

I read a FANTASTIC article concerning adult ADHD that I would at least like to share the link to with you guys and hope anyone who struggles with this or thinks they might will read it.

Article.

Not to perpetuate this already too long diatribe but a couple of excerpts really resonated with me. Read, don’t read,but I want to throw it out there.

Duane Gordon was a project manager at a firm in Montreal when his boss asked him to run the Monday morning meeting. “I was excited because this was obviously a test of [whether] I could eventually be groomed for taking over the department,” he recalls.

That discussion took place on Friday afternoon. On Monday, everyone showed up for the meeting, wondering where the boss was, including Gordon. “It was completely gone from my memory that I was to run this meeting,” he says. When the boss didn’t show up, everyone went back to their desks. Later in the day, the boss came in and asked Gordon how the meeting went. “I said, ‘We didn’t have the meeting, you weren’t here. I figured we’d have it when you came in.’ And he looked at me completely dumbfounded, like, ‘How is that even possible?'”

He explains: “You never know when something is going to go horribly wrong. There’s every chance it will. If my boss calls me, I wonder what went wrong. If I get mail, I wonder if I’m going to jail. You assume and expect that at any moment you’re going to get sideswiped by something, and it’s something you did or forgot to do that is going to have severe repercussions.”

describes having ADHD like this: “It’s a chronic sense of overwhelmed. It feels like you’re being attacked in all areas of your daily life — like sounds, and lights, and sensory things can be overwhelming,” Matlen is the author of Survival Tips for Women with ADHD.”

She says she hit a wall after she became a mother. “And that is what we see a lot with women, once their lives become more complicated, they can’t stay on top of things. Both of my children turned out to be hyperactive. I couldn’t keep up. I felt like a total failure, someone with two college degrees couldn’t do something as seemingly easy as putting dinner on the table every night or keeping the house organized.”

She says it took a toll on her self-esteem, “Like, what is wrong with me? There’s people with five kids who can juggle all the responsibilities of taking care of a family. Why couldn’t I do it with two? Am I dumb? Am I incompetent?”

She wants others with ADHD to understand what she now knows: “You’re not broken, you’re not hopeless, you just need a little extra help.”

“I feel like a healthy person when I wake up in the morning and continue with my day, but I do have a lot of thoughts in my head. I’m fidgety a lot. I can’t sit still; I can’t get comfortable in a chair. Maybe I’m a little emotional. ADHD can [do that]. Sometimes I’m feeling good and then someone says something bad to me and next I’m feeling kind of down.”

She says her condition has caused negative interactions with co-workers and managers. “People don’t understand the difficulties you have when it comes to focusing and distractions. “Instead of excelling, you’re always [considered] mediocre,” she says.

Okay, that all being covered…Spork of Fortitude for all who stayed with me.

***Disclaimer***

I am NOT a doctor and cannot tell you whether you have ADHD or your symptoms also stem from anxiety/bipolar/depression. ONLY a qualified doctor can make that determination. Still, if you see yourself in any of that particular article, it cannot hurt to talk to your doctor about it. Yes, adults can have ADHD. Many of us are simple ADD, lacking hyperactivity yet having ping pong thoughts. Seek professional help and know…You are not alone.

Honestly Overwhelmed

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , , , on March 17, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

DO NOT CLICK HERE

 

Ya know how physically ill people are encouraged to “take a sick day”? Such compassion isn’t shown when you have a mental imbalance. There’s no leeway for “feeling low”. No tolerance for being so stressed you’re having random panic attacks. No “there,there” pat on the shoulder when it’s all you can do not to sink to the floor under the weight of how dark your own mind is…

I definitely needed a “mental health sick” day today. I don’t know what happened but I got my ass kicked by a band of mood assassins with mad skills. Getting my kid to school was all I could do. I came back home and tried to get comfy but I couldn’t get manage that or get warm. I couldn’t enjoy a smoke. Then my stepmonster called to let me know my former father in law passed away and that made me so sad. He was such a wonderful man. It upset me and I was stressed already (the car was acting funny when I took her to school) so I took a Xanax. Even though I had planned errands today. I ended up falling asleep.

I woke up several times but apparently needed the rest because I didn’t pry myself up until noon. Hate napping. Lately it’s become  a once a week thing. I keep saying to myself it’s all the med changes and stress mucking it all up…I hope that’s all it is. It has just been one of those days where my mind is dark without a direct cause and my entire body feels heavy and leaden. Just refilling some ice cube trays was taxing and yeah, I know how pathetic that sounds.

Then it got worse for I picked my kid up and had two random panic attacks. The kind where it feels like an invisible kick to the gut and you can’t catch your breath or understand why suddenly something you do every day is causing you to spaz out…On the way home Spook asked why the car smelled bad and I saw steam or smoke coming from under the hood. When we made it to the drive I popped the hood and something was definitely hissing and steaming or smoking and I know fuck all about cars…Called dad and stepmonster, they said to check the fluids. That was when I saw as I kept pouring in coolant it just leaks out from under the car faster than I can fill it. FUCK. I cannot catch a break.

So I am packing a gallon of water in  the car and driving it til it blows up BECAUSE R TOLD ME THE RED CAR WAS ROAD READY AND NAGGED ME ABOUT THE LICENSE ON IT…The cockweasel says no, it’s not ready, it needs a couple of hoses and this and an oil change and…WHAT THE EVERLASTING FUCK? If it wasn’t ready, why nag on me about this shit???? Now he’s all sad sacking cos he got hit with taxes and business has slowed down and he doesn’t have any time to meet all the demands we’re making of him…And I am driving an iffy car, while waiting for him to get his shit together so I can get the stuff done at the DMV.

I am super pissed as I was lead to believe I needed to get it off Ursula’s property ASAP. But if he won’t give me the key because it “still needs work” and mom is on my ass about getting rid of the brown car so she can transfer her license to her new car….

“Good intentions” is just a euphamism for “I’m gonna make your life miserable but you can’t complain because I meant well.”

The Mundanes should be so forgiving of bipolar mood swings where we mean well but things go wonky…

I am just…honestly…Overwhelmed. The housework is piling up. This car thing is driving me nuts. (But thanks to those kind souls who contributed to the fundraiser, I can at least get her on the road legally as soon as my jackass friend the mechanic can fit the car into his schedule.)

It only got worse tonight.My kid was playing with a friend, then that friend wanted to go play with her cousin elsewhere, so my kid had a half hour long bawling screaming fit, punching herself in the head. I actually gave her a swat on the butt for that one, if only to get her attention and make her stop. Ridiculous.

So I started to panic and had to do my anxiety exercises. She kept screaming and bawling so she was hyperventilating so I had to talk her down with breathe in, breathe out…

Just a big ball of suckage this day.

To make matters even worse (I misspelled my own name yesterday, does it get worse?) I missed a deadline on some paperwork so her food stamps got canceled. I gotta go fix that but how can I when everyday is a “will the car work” lottery.

I got another identical notice (that makes FIVE) about the donor being garnished for support but the clock didn’t even start counting until March 8th so it could be June before I see a cent from him, never mind the Jan. and Feb and March he was supposed to mail in himself to keep current until the garnishment kicks in. I don’t know any amount of money is worth this fucking stress. Everyone told me I’d feel so good holding him accountable and it’d give Spook a better life and…It’s just a bunch of red tape strangling me right now.

As is my kid’s tantrum de jour. Now she is all but swearing at me for not having spare batteries for her LeapPad. She thinks I am gonna risk it with that stupid car to go buy her batteries. Yeah, right.

I know my whining about money and all the stress gets old. Damn, it’s old to me, too. I am always waiting for life to improve, even the tiniest bit, but I have to jump through so many hoops, by the time it all aligns, it takes one little thing for it all to start slipping again.

I want a job. Seriously. I want out of this disability pit where everyday I have someone or something remind me I am somehow subhuman for being on disability, for getting food stamps. My own kid asks me why I “won’t” work. I know I am a decent-ish person yet this shit has me filled with self loathing on a daily basis. And the way I am so med resistant, I don’t see any end to it because I can’t be the one thing a job requires. Stable.

It’s all frustrating and stressing and…Fuck a big fancy bag. I’m tired of talking about it. Living it is more than enough.

On an ending note…I am leaving the fundraiser site up. I am still several hundred into debt to my dad and R, so any tiny bit can help along the way. I guess the best thing I can say in response to “begging for money”…If the shoe were on the other foot, I wouldn’t hesitate to help a friend in need, even if it was a five dollar bill or a home cooked meal.

I like to think there are others out there who think the same way instead of obsessing over ten dollar Lattes and fifty dollar lattes.

Maybe that’s why I go out as rarely as possible. I don’t want to be proven wrong, to witness that people really are as bad as my depressive brain says they are. If I lose that last glimmer of hope, that sliver of faith…One day the depression’s gonna win.

I need to believe in the fairytale of kindness.

Panxious Polly

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , , on August 24, 2015 by morgueticiaatoms

In spite of a Xanax and being home alone in relative peace…My panxiety is off the charts. I’m not sure why but pretzel gut has me tied to the bathroom. And no, I don’t want to overshare, but I do want to demonstrate just how bad the anxiety gets when it manifests physically. And it’s an even bigger problem when you have to venture into the dish, go to a job, or socialize.

There is zero reason for this level of anxiety when home in my bubble without too much noise. Yet here it is. I can’t focus, my gut is twisting, I am breaking out in hives, my hands are shaky. The little mind tricks ain’t working. There ain’t a stop sign big enough to quash this shit.

It makes me wonder if it’s because I know I have to brave people and traffic palooza to pick my kid up later. In which case, it’s gonna be a long agonizing school year. Because my life isn’t agonizing enough with the normal anxiety, I totally need even more. Wondering if the shrink would write me a note stating I need to pick her up in a more secluded area because this is detrimental to my mental and physical help. I know Dr M was awesome enough she’d have done it. This guy…Doubtful.

I’ve tried mindless busywork in an effort to distract. It ain’t working. If anything, when I move around, I get more paranoid, as if I am a moving target. I can be mindful and apply logic til the cows come home…It isn’t helping. I am loathe to take another Xanax, that just makes me too lethargic. (Makes me wonder how I functioned all those years on 3mg a day.)

I need to go to the grocery store. I need to mow the lawn. I need to do a lot of shit and the anxiety is pretty much got me tethered.

Ya know, standing on the outside looking in, the whole panic/anxiety/paranoia thing probably does seem silly to those without it. On the inside…It’s not silly, it’s called my daily existence.

I don’t think I should be called negative for calling it like it is- anxiety sucks. Period.

Things That Make You Go @#$&!

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , , , , , on June 18, 2015 by morgueticiaatoms

I was gonna go with the old C and C Music Factory song, “Things that make you go hmm…” only change it to “things that you make you FUCK!…” Then I thought, why not throw some random angry characters out to make it more zippy? Sentence still ends in fuck, though, decoded. (And yes, I *like* that song C and C song, but only for drunken dancing.)

Ventured into the dish for the first time but skipped the madhouse of Aldi. My kid was uber hyper and defiant and I just couldn’t do battle. We went to the convenience store then to a Family Dollar and that was enough for me. Came home. Waited for hours because mom wanted to see Spook and I came up with the idea of her staying the night ‘cos I REALLY need a break. Five hours later, the call finally came telling me they were home. On the way out, I noticed that my 32 gallon trash can had filled, and was overflowing with, rain, and I only set it out yesterday. It’s like a freaking monsoon. My yard needs mowed and I know the landlord is gonna be on my ass but it’s been raining six straight days, ffs.

Took my kid to my mom’s. It occurred to me after the fact that me simply saying “I need a break” to my mom is gonna result in me being bitten on the ass for weeks to come. My mom can say I need a break, but if I say it, I am a shit mother thinking only of herself. While I was out, one idiot lady almost backed over me in her fancy SUV as I walked across the lot. I was watching, well out of the way, and still, she came within three inches of hitting me! PAY THE FUCK ATTENTION, BITCH! I wish Smartphones would just fucking die. THEN on the way home I almost got hit again by someone who wasn’t even looking around them, they just deemed it their turn. I yelled “fuck” and “bitch” and “douchebag” more times than I can count.

Driving is hell. Hell is other people. I can’t handle the dish. I could live my life out in perpetuity alone and I’d be ok. But throw me in the dish…I’m falling apart and justly so. People are stupid. You can’t just drive for yourself and be wary. NOO, you absolutely cannot relax a second because you’re driving for yourself and every jackass checking their smartphone and yapping to their passenger about something on the smartphone. (no ONE is that important, get over it.)

PLUS I had a tire going flat so I had to stop for air, and it couldn’t even make it to the one station with free gas, NO, I had to go to the place that charges an dollar. FUCK! And as it was the used tired put on there, it may keep deflating and I have no money for a new one so once again, welcome to Fuckedsville, population me. And people are all around and there’s noise and I think they are all staring at me and I feel like a piece of China in a china shop with a bull on the loose…I kept it together but not without a thousand thoughts of just using my car as a battering ram and clawing all their eyeballs out with my nails.

No, it’s not rational. Fight or flight response doesn’t care.

I’ve teared up some more from Grey’s Anatomy. Hormones, no doubt. It’s sooo nice to feel something. But I am fairly certain once the curse has come and gone, I will be right back to dead inside numb. I think I am about done with this show, anyway. I’m on season 3 and they’ve had six cancer cases involving lady parts and suddenly I feel like my ovaries and uterus are out to get me and gonna kill me no matter how vigilant I am and the panic kicks in and it’s the fucking truth…I watched my aunt (by marriage, only five years my senior) battle ovarian cancer for almost 5 years. Cured, remission, cured, remission, dead. She never smoked a cigarette, exercised, played sports, went to church, had a positive attitude…

THAT is precisely why I stopped trying to control my health. I can go to a dozen doctors every single day. If I have the cancer gene, it’s happening. Period. If it doesn’t, excellent. If it does…I’m not caught unawares.

Thing with me and medical paranoia is…at some point logic loses out to the panic so I have to walk away for my own good. I LOOOVED Mystery Diagnosis. Unfortunately, I began to think I had every obscure illness they featured based on one or two symptoms. Because I am so scared that no matter how perfect I do things…Cancer, and catastrophe, are in my genes. (Honestly, my mom is kid number ten and she’s lost eight siblings to cancer, so HELLOO?) Fuck it, I am just gonna live the way I want while I can because NONE of us know whether we’ll be hit by a bus tomorrow or some crackhead will hold up the store we’re in and shoot us.

Perhaps it’s that uncertainty that keeps me in a constant state of anxiety. You. Just. Don’t. Know. NO ONE knows. And while “God’s will” may comfort most, I find it absolute bullshit. (I am not trying to insult anyone’s faith, but this is MY blog and this is how I feel.) I think this was why I had to shun E.R. I just got too paranoid and too panicky to handle it. I went back, after the series ended, of course, but during its run…Nope. I couldn’t.

I’ve gotten my beckoning call from his highness. Since mom has the spookster til noon tomorrow, and he called shortly after 7 pm, I am okay with it. I just get so sick of being expected to be gracious and polite when my bare minimum limits keep getting stomped on like I don’t even exist…GRRR. Things that make you go, HELP ME HIDE THIS CORPSE!

I have sooo much I need to do, should do, but…I get so little me time all I want to do is vegetate. I’ve sorted most of the laundry, folded and put away towels…I did a *bit*. Now…Knowing I have to face R-sole at 8 a.m. I think I need sleep. A reboot.When really I wanted to stay up late and write or try to write and enjoy my mommy time. Instead, dish dwellers had to intrude with demands and I am not good at juggling, especially during shark week hormoney time.

I thought earlier I was doing “better”. I am not so sure now. The anxiety when dealing with the dish and noise just never goes away. I feel like such a lost cause. I know it’s frustration talking but zero fucks are given.

The best thing that could ever happen to me would be to find some way to earn money at home from the computer so I can pick and choose when I am *able* to deal with the petri dish. It sounds selfish but it’s not. People in wheelchairs get wheelchair ramps. Why can’t I just get a petri dish free way to earn a living?

Oh, right. Because mental illness isn’t real. Maybe I should throw myself off a balcony. Broken bones are real. I doubt it’d count for shit. I’m *mental.”