Archive for panic disorder

Spazzing Out

Posted in anxiety, anxiety disorders with tags , , , , , , , , , , on November 26, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Not an hour ago I posted about an episode of sudden, unexplained anxiety bordering on panic.

Well, I waited wayyyy too long to take Xanax. I am now in panxiety territory-where panic and anxiety meet and explode.

What if your heating assistance grant isn’t approved?

You haven’t gotten notice about an increase in food benefits since losing child support, what if there is some issue and you’ve been denied? It never takes 2 weeks for a decision…except that time it took a month but this MUST mean something went awry and now I can’t fucking feed my kid!!!!

Your kid came home spouting off about ‘bad juju feelings’, what the hell have you done to this child with all your psycobabble talk and superstition based ‘bad juju feelings’????

The weather is supposed to be changing, what if you can’t get to town to buy Thanksgiving food or the car breaks down and is fucked up for good?

What kind of mother lets the home run out of toilet paper so you have to swipe a roll from family and you’re still running out with a week to go before the check comes?

Oh, fuck, what if the check doesn’t come for some reason and you’ve got no grant to cover heat or food or Christmas or to buy toilet paper, the sky is falling, you’re a complete fuck up and failure as a mother, worthless!!!

My mood turned from bleak to black. I can’t even enjoy the show I was previously sort of getting into. The panxiety has stormed the castle and panic ninjas are coming at me from all sides with their paranoia laced throwing stars and panic enhanced swords…


I’m scared, I am really, really scared.

And what the hell kind of loving family can’t spring a buck to buy us a pack of toilet paper, for fuck’s sake???? Considering I took half my day to help them out last week when stepmonster needed a ride and accompaniment to her medical procedures…

Oh, and what about that so called good friend R who can’t even be bothered to drop ten bucks into my paypal account to help out til I can pay back when my check comes?

Oh, and what kind of loser ends up in this shitty position?

Oh, right. The deadbeat flaked on child support for the 4th time in 3 years and I can’t do a fucking thing about it because no one knows where he went (or he swore them to secrecy) and he doesn’t even update his address for court records, as he is supposed to do under law, being ya know, foreign….

My bad for relying on child support to support my child. What an irresponsible flake I am.

Oh, man, to be 20 years young, a hundred pounds thinner, and I’d so be doing internet webcam porn for a living. I don’t have pride when it comes to caring for Spook.

I also don’t have a computer with a working mic or webcam so even if I could find a fetish niche for fluffy nearing-50 ickiness, I couldn’t pull it off.


Society wants the disabled to get off the dole and be contributing members but when it comes to mental health disability, they do nothing to make it more accessable for us to use our skills without worsening our conditons…

Oh, wow, I just went off the fucking reservation…Total panic. Oh, and now I am kicking myself for the reservation comment as it is culterally insensitive…

Bloody fucking hell!!!!!

I REALLY wish this goddamn hell hole of the midwest had axe throwing or Rage rooms. I need some REAL fucking therapy that involves breaking shit and relieving pent up aggression and fear and paranoia.

I miss my voodoo doll (bawling emoji here) He was lost in the move. How it healed my spirits to stab him with knitting needles or bashing his head against things. It only sounds fucked up, I swear. It’s a bloody mass marketed doll, not specific to anyone. Just…shitty things life throws at me. I want another voodoo/dammit doll.

Of course, right now, I’d settle for $20 to refill my meds and buy some toilet paper and put gas in the car.

Okay, the Xanax is finally kicking in…Sanity is peeking in, waving at me shyly, seeing if it’s okay to return, I suppose. Not even the crazy wants to live my super crazy.

Though from my sci-fi show Lost Girl, they called a sucubus crazy and she pointed out, “The proper term is mentally unstable.”

I myself am fond of ‘sanity challenged’.

But it all leads back to society’s perception of crazy.

Fuck society and its collective ignorance when it comes to mental illness. Oh, behavioral health.

That term needs to die in a fucking fire.


Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , on November 26, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I am feeling extreme anxiety today, to the point of a churning stomach and hives. I can’t explain it because nothing has really triggered it. I even managed to go to my dad’s without too much trauma. Yet…here I am, at the corner of anxiety attack and panic episode. I am reluctant to take a Xanax because my once bountiful stash has dwindled and can’t be replenished if I don’t restart my hoarding and self discipine, ie: self punishment and withholding of what could make me feel less…like a cornered animal. I will get to taking one shortly but man, that last psych center benzo nazi regime really got into my head and now I feel shitty for taking more than their low dose even though the new doc put me back where I need to be. Talk about conditioning. Not that it’s anything new. I’ve come across several people in my life with preconceived notions that anyone who took xanax at all was addicted and needed rehab to fix their problem. Yet they saw how altered my behavior and demeanor were once xanax was on board, they changed their tunes, amazingly. Well, not one of them, but that’s a sordid password protected mind fuck of a mess from 11 years ago.

Conditioning, ick. I like to think myself as unmalleable but it seems I put myself in a supplicant position,personality wise, a little too often. Not often enough for anyone to mistake me for a doormat but often enough that they play on my psych diagnoses and corner me, making my every reaction to their shitty behavior about my mental issues. Cos saying, ‘sorry,I am being a jerk’ is just asking too fucking much from neurotypicals. I should apologize for things I can’t control but they never have to be sorry for a damn thing. They haven’t conditioned that outrage out of me yet. Sooo bloody tired of being the one to get therapy and meds and make changes and grow as a person while those around me prove to be immovable objects. On an evolutionary scale, this is disappointing, even in my new ‘woke’ state about my own contribution to my social and emotional issues. Maybe I don’t always recognize when I am being a bitchbeast but when I do, or it is pointed out, I have the decency to say, “I’m sorry” instead of going on the attack and saying shit like,”Don’t be so sensitive” or “learn to take a joke”. Or I wait til after I apologize to go sarcastic. Because I truly DO feel bad when I behave badly and make others feel shitty. Good thing I have a strong psyche because apparently all the conscience lacking in those around me has been instilled in my mind…cos I even feel bad for them for being such jerks and not even being smart enough to know they are being jerks.

My mind is such a clusterfuck.

So…another morning where I could barely get up with my kid. I could not get warm. I went back to sleep as soon as she was on the bus. This napping thing has become daily when she is not home and it’s pissing me off. I started staying up later and taking melatonin at the last minute in hopes it might help me stay asleep but…all it has done is bring about the naps. I really don’t want to go back to going to bed at 7:30 so my brain is calmer by 10 p.m. I am trying to wean myself from the benadryl and melatonin, cutting the dose 3/4 in hopes of not being groggy in the morning and going back to sleep. I just want to sleep sans pills for a change and yet…if I do that, I am still awake at 3 a.m. I have had this sleep disturbance for 20 years, I can’t explain it.

I couldn not fix the stepmonster’s laptop because the problem is with her ten year old router and her Win 8 OS not playing nice together. They weren’t too awful, aside from calling me and waking me from my guilty nap and guilting me into coming over. Though maybe my dad contributed to the anxiety. The conversation:

“Your car is making a bad sound in front, if you keep driving it that way, you’re going to tear it up.”
Me: “So what should I do?”
Him: “Keep driving it. Next time you go to town, stop by afterward so we can feel if you have any hot spots near your tires.”

BRAIN IMPLOSION. Keep driving it, tear it up. Hey, go drive it. What the actual fuck?????

I need to go to town tomorrow to get stuff to make chicken and noodles for Turkey day. Maybe that impending ordeal of two trips in tow days is adding to my anxiety. That and my kid’s pain in the ass friend who cannot get it through his head that when he calls and I say no, she isn’t hanging out today, it does NOT mean ignore me and come to the door so I have to tell her no again and bring about her wrath on me because you’re a spoiled, apparently deaf brattleaxe. He really stresses me out. And it’s not like I don’t feel for the kid, he is on the spectrum and has zero friends, but man…annoying as fuck. And being told no only to show up anyway and act hurt that I said no again…I don’t want to have to talk to his mother but it may come to that. And he is two grades ahead of Spook so I don’t even get the peace of mind thinking, hey, worry less, she is with an older kid…In this case, the older kid is less mature than my kid.

Okay, so maybe I do have things to explain the anxiety but hives and a burning stomach ache? Seems extreme.

Doctors ran tests and it was always the same conclusion: you internalize stress and it impacts you physically.

Bloody lovely.

I guess as it nears time for the moody return of Spook, I think it may be time to take a Xanax. And ego check myself for calling her moody when it’s a pot-kettle-black situation.

Self awareness fucking sucks.

Plowboys, Bruised Fruit, and Harsh Self Truths

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , , on November 25, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

As the weather keeps its weird ups and downs (it was sunny and almost 60 today, last week we had snow and ice and single digits!!! this plays hell on seasonal affective disorder) and the helliday and family get together nears, I find my energy depleted, my will to live nil, and dread the size of the titanic envelopes me. And I am still hormonal as fuck and because it has gone on so long, I think it means by old nemesis, ovarian cysts, have returned to fuck with my mental state. Or menopause is knocking on the door. Idk, I just find myself uncomfortable mentally, physically, and emotionally wrecked on a daily basis. And when you try to explain to this others when they ask why you’ve become a recluse only to be told to ‘suck it the fuck up’…Not that I embrace the culture of victimhood but it does start to feel like you’re being abused when people can’t even fake basic empathy, compassion, and civility. I just got off the phone with my ass trash father and that was how he and stepmonster were talking to me. “Suck it the fuck up.” All they want is for me to come over and figure out why her laptop won’t connect to their wifi. Um, cos it’s fucking dumpster fire Windows 8? (And yes, I know they are ending support for Win 7 but much like I have done with XP, I will cling to the superior operating system until they pry it out of my cold rotting hands!!!!) I could have a machete in my head and those redneck motherfuckers would tell me to suck it up. Yet because of dad’s age and their diabetes and stepmonster’s low iron, I am supposed to show them respect and compassion???? They talk about it so much it makes everyone around them a little nauseated. But if I mention MY health issues, physical or mental, it’s ‘suck it up’.

I am livid to find myself 46 years old and still prisoner to my toxic family’s, well, toxicity. And my feelings toward them may be heightened at the moment, but they are not wrong. My dad told me recently I needed to ‘lower your standards and get yourself a good old plowboy”. I think in redneck speak that means some country bumpkin farmer or trucker with a good job. And if I met one I had anything in common with, I wouldn’t care what they did for a living or where they were from. My standards are not that high but I do want someone I click with on a rudimentary level. And with my current emotional battles I am a nightmare for myself, let alone dragging some unsuspecting person along for the blessed hellride. And I don’t even know why he thinks to say these idiotic things because not once have I said ‘woe is me, I am all alone’. I CHOOSE to be alone. And yeah, I DO like guys who are tall and have long hair and listen to heavy metal and appreciate the horror and sci-fi genres because, hello, common ground. But I’ve never once said they had to tick every box to meet my ‘standards’. And they are so ignorant and lacking in self awareness they refuse to admit the exes I do have-they BACKED before me and told me not to hurt the guys. Well, hubby one chose drugs over me, hubby 2 walked out on his kid, and they were both ‘upstanding’ men. And by redneck standards that means they held a job and bathed.

Idk why I still let it eat me alive. It’s not as if their input has ever had ANY bearing on my actions or thoughts. Though I guess in a way they throw their punches and the bruises land and it puts a dent in my limited self esteem.

I’ve been doing this terrifying new thing where I actually have DEEP THOUGHTS (with Jack Handy…sorry, old SNL reference, couldn’t help myself.)

I’ve met women I find far more aggressive and abrasive than me but the men put up with them easier than they can me. And I think it’s because those women have self confidence. I lack confidence when it comes to interacting with other people. Partly because I had so little positive reinforcement from my parents and peers, and also, because from single digit age, my mother drummed it into me that saying you’re good at something is the same thing as conceit and ‘being stuck on yourself’.

So in my mind, I have become ‘bruised fruit’. I signed a petition or two about how bruised/ugly produce get pitched and aren’t even donated to the needy because they have a bruise or a dark spot. Ugly doesn’t mean spoiled or no good. But of course-and I do this myself- it is human nature to choose the shiny red apple, the bright white onion, or the crispy green celery over that which is browning, wilting, or puny. Because I have come to view myself this way, maybe inside I have given up on being ‘chosen’ from the shelf that is the meat market of dating life. Deep down, I know while troubled, I have a good soul and a good heart and it should be all that matters. But because so many have discarded me or flat out rejected me and my own family reinforces this cycle with their ‘love with strings and insults attached’ mentality…Any self esteem I collect is quickly undone. In a way, it’s not so bad. I stay to myself I don’t end up being one of those women who hop bed to bed in desperate search of any affection and acceptance even if it’s shallow and sleazy. Other hand, I also don’t put myself out there so am I really bruised unwanted fruit or am I hiding in the stockroom, rotting in a corner because I won’t get my ass on the shelf?

DEEP THOUGHTS, as processed by a mood swinging anger seething bitchbeast whose only comfort has become the nothingness of sleep, including napping during the day. (SOOO not my normal.)

AND it gets scarier because I’ve had to do some hard looking at my own reactions to others’ behavior. And it kills me to admit, I’ve been pretty unfair to others at times. I expect to be treated with a modicum of respect and when I am ignored, I mistake others being disnterested or busy as being rude and disrespectful. I want my needs catered to the way I cater to them, accepting them as being emotionally unavailable or plain rude when in fact…some of them are just ignorant, thoughtless in a chronic manner, or too narcissistic to care let alone change. And I can’t keep collecting injustices and holding them against people just because they are jerks. I gotta learn not to get attached to certain expectations and if my needs are being met in one way, I need to accept whatever is being offered or move along and stop holding a grudges.

Admitting that was like being punched in the gut and heart.

But that is why the self aware are, self aware, and the narcissistic and ignorant remain just that. Self awareness comes with a price and it is hefty, having to admit half your problems with interactions are because of your own faulty thoughts and expectations. It leads to guilt, self flogging, sagging confidence, inability to come to grips with not being able to change the past, and terror that you will just keep repeating the pattern even though you know what needs to change…That is a heavy burden to carry so I guess I see why so many opt out and choose to be blatant jerks or oblivious,well meaning idgets.

But sticking my head in the sand is not an option for me. Evolution is necessary for me to keep putting up a fight and if that means owning even more of my own ickiness as a human…so be it. That those around me remain the same and continually do things I find hurtful and disrespectful, well, it’s just free will. I can do my best to avoid the toxic folks, and do my best to make sure I am not one of them anymore, but…

It is never wrong to expect others to treat you with digitity and self respect. When they fail to do this, you have every right to take offense, be hurt, feel wronged.

The challenge is shaking it off and learning to accept that maybe X can’t even discuss something more serious than a youtube video with you, they’ll spend a hundred bucks to fix your car when it is broken down. Or that people raised by abusive parents who told them to suck it up really don’t know any better than to pass on the same abuse and think it’s acceptable and normal as long as they make sure your car oil is changed.

Really wish I had some Mangoritas to wash down THAT hubcab sized bitter pill.

Knowing you will never receive the kind of love you need from those who claim to love you-knowing that essentially you’re worth some money for your car but not compassion or empathy…

Yeah. Sticks in the throat and leaves behind a bitter taste.

I am choosing to view these people as ‘quid pro quo’ opportunities, as I have always attempted to do. Take what is useful and try not to get sucked into their emotionally stunted void.

And never give up on one day finding even a fraction of what it is I need on an emotional level to be content.

Male, female, romantic, platonic, urban, country, rich, poor…none of it truly matters.

But I do insist they have a fucking conscience in how they treat others and the soul to feel bad when they’ve behaved badly.

If I can offer that much, then expecting to receive the same isn’t some far out there ‘standards too high’ bullshit.


Posted in anxiety with tags , , , , , on October 26, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I am having an adverse reaction to my kid being gone. I had NO idea when I let her go with my dad’s crew they’d still have her at 9:30 p.m. and not one word on what is going on. Have they decided to keep her for the night? Are they waiting for the rain to die down before returning her? (as if it has let up an iota in 15 hours.) And it’d be so easy to call and ask what the deal is but…then they’d know exactly how neurotic and kidcentric I am and it’s embarrassing. She’s ten now, not a toddler, and it’s not like I haven’t spent time without her…But this low dose Xanax is doing fuck all for my general anxiety, let alone the panic attacks, and this…is triggering major anxiety attacks and panic attacks. I have been pacing the floor to the front door for hours, waiting for the sound of the door or a car. I NEED my kid home where she belongs. Actually, I NEED an answer, yay or nay, as to whether they are bringing her home or keeping her, THEN I would be much better. And I could so easily make that call…But I am stubborn and it feels like I’ve been come too dependent on my kid, she is entitled to space and independence and freedom from my neuroses so…

I pace and panic and feel freaked out and spaztic.

As if the situation with our broken furnace isn’t enough. We found out it needs a new motherboard which has to come from Iowa because the furnace is so old and they were damn lucky to find even one available at all, and I guess the landlord is balking at the expense but his son told me he’d cover it all nonetheless. Which gave me a bolt of panic because, yeah, I sorta read the lease and it seemed pretty standard that the landlord/property owner is responsible for repairs on the home and its fixtures…If I had to come up with several hundred to get the furnace going, we’d have no choice but to move. But as his son said, it may have been our cats that took out $40 worth of ductwork, but it was years of basement humidity that trashed the furnace’s motherboard and that is not on us. I just…We’ve been here 18 months and this is the first repair we have ever asked for so the landlord balking at the expense baffles me. I’ve shelled out close to nine grand to live here these 18 months, if that isn’t work a working furnace maybe it’s time for him to sell off his properties and get out of the business period.

Anyway, the board won’t be in til Monday or Tuesday so til then, we are on space heaters and layered clothing. I really don’t want to tell him about the broken water heater. I KNEW I shouldn’t have tried cleaning the damn thing with all that loose willy nilly wiring. But that is a future problem. When I was 11, we rented a house and the hot water heater went out and the landlord wouldn’t pay to fix it and my parents did not have the money so for six months,our baths consisted of boiling large pans of water on the stove then mixing in cold in the tub to bathe. Pain in the ass but it didn’t kill us then and it isn’t killing us now. I managed a bath last night, after making a meatloaf. Then I hit my wall around 10 p.m.

I hit that wall around 7 tonight when I got hit with waves of nausea, cold chills, and just a feeling of sleepy exhaustion. Thankfully it passed but it has me wary that I may have the flu or something. I took no meds, drank no booze, so it was just so random and baffling to suddenly feel so sickly. Glad it passed.

Okay, it’s 9:40. Maybe she is still at the church shindig. I miss her. Her battery bunny motion and yapping make me nervous as hell but her not being here makes me more nervous. And really, I am ready for bed. The chills have passed to hot flashes so it’s less wanting to be unconscious and more just feeling exhausted. Chasing these kittens all day has exhausted me, crazy as it sounds.

Did I mention I want my kid home? Or at least an inkling of what the fuck is going on? And I definitely need a break from these kittens gnawing on me or the electric cords. This has been a very long, pointless day. I usually love the sound of rain but tonight it is irritating me. 15 fucking hours, going on 16, of nothing but rain hitting the AC unit, drip drip drip drip tick tick tick…

I hate being so high strung. I wish I could shut the anxiety down. Cut it off at the knees. Mercy it with a fucking Z Whacker.

Yeah, the Z Nation references are probably going to continue a little longer til I finish the final season.

It is the one thing making me feel some joy, though after 8 episodes today, I did have to stop watching it because, shocker…IT WAS MAKING ME NERVOUS.

I just gotta laugh at myself or I will cry at my own ludicrousness. Ludicrous as it all may be, this is how I feel and it is very real.

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?

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.

Anxiety, Like Climbing Ivy

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

I was asleep by 9 p.m. last night, which pissed my kid off because I sent her to bed a half hour early. I told her she could read or watch TV for an hour but she was in prime Spook tantrum mode and stomped off and slammed her door. (I can see the tween and teen years and I don’t think I am gonna make it out alive, the kid is gonna chew me up and spit me out.) But once I finally nodded off, I slept pretty well in spite of multiple wakings. It’s a happy waking if I see the clock and know I have several hours before I have to be up. 🙂 See, an optimistic note, even if about a symptom of severe depression. Also happy is a wake up in which I am able to get right back to sleep as opposed to sitting up or tossing and turning for hours while losing my mind to frustration. Those nights are rough.

I thought going to bed early would enable me to get a fresh start today so I set my alarm an hour earlier. 5:30 is not an hour I enjoy seeing unless I haven’t been to bed yet. So I hit snooze about seven times, but by 6 a.m. I’d had enough of the drone of the televangelist garbage that airs between 3 and 6 a.m. when I am too groggy to notice or change the channel. Law and Order came on, the light was coming up, so I said fuck it and got up before 7. I thought last night, hey, if I set the alarm that early, I can still get in my snooze button love affair AND have time to get a quick bath and start the day off on a good ‘let’s get going’ note. Hmm…it didn’t work out that way. Because my mental state, while out of ‘kill me now’ territory, is still looking around at the actual facts-I need a cleaning crew to get this place in order properly-and the depressive distortion is insisting that this is beyond my capabilities since I can’t even focus and unscramble my brains enough to arrange forks, knives, and spoons in the damn drawer…Needless to say, it’s almost 8:30 and I still haven’t gotten that bath. And my hair feels gross so it needs to be done but…hygiene takes a lot of spoons and since I also need to make a trip to town to pay rent and fetch food and such…Just don’t know if I have the available spoons.

So I am writing this while an episode of “The Fix” is playing in the background. Hoping my mind clears and my gears shift into some semblance of focus.

STILL having the battle with insurance to cover Spook’s meds. She is on day 5 without and she is back to incessant jabbering and topic jumping and mood swings. She nEEDS that script. But the doctor didn’t get prior approval and they are fucking about, the insurance company is battling back that she doesn’t need it even though the doctor says she does BUT HELL YEAH, SOME PENCIL PUSHING PENNY SQUEEZING INSURANCE COMPANY HACK KNOWS WAY MORE THAN SOMEONE WHO WENT TO SCHOOL FOR DAMN NEAR 30 YEARS TO BECOME A DOCTOR. Man, this country’s healthcare system is not just flawed, it’s fucked. My sister has her own insurance battle going on where she’s had irregular menstrual bleeding for 3 straight weeks which could be very serious but she hasn’t met her deductible so they won’t even sign off on an urgent care visit for her. She’ll bleed to death before they sort it out. This is why people get sicker and end up costing more in medical bills, by being denied necessary treatment in the first fucking place. While I am not a huge fan of the ACA because of all its flaws (like fining people for choosing to have shelter over health insurance, or ya know, doing without food to get this so called ‘affordable’ insurance, though coverage for pre existing conditions is the ONE stellar aspect I loved about it, and no doubt the current regime will fuck that up.)…I just believe if the politicians got out of the pockets of big pharma and insurance companies and let the damn doctors do their jobs and treat their patients equally without regard to who can afford the best insurance…Yeah, I live on planet utopia and no doubt will face backlash for my naive idealism…But the system IS broken and until the decisions are made by medical professionals and NOT politicians and insurance companies and lobbyists…it will never improve.

Oh, it kind of feels good to go off on a tear like that. I needed to get pissed off to distract from what this post was going to be about in the first place before well, ADD brain and shiny objects.

The anxiety started rising right out of the gate and within an hour, I’d already had 3 panic attacks which cost mega spoons!!!! But it gave me this visual of ivy climbing a trellis, upward, bigger and thicker and curlier. That is my anxiety. Normally I love the sight of climbing ivy, I find it pretty. But when it amounts to panic attacks, paranoia, and every nerve ending on fire with fear I can’t explain…Maybe I should find another description and not ruin my love for ivy. For now it’s the most apt description I have.

Now…trying to get my ass moving and accomplish stuff. Wish me luck. I am gonna need it since the lovely ivy is choking me out here.