Archive for panic disorder

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.

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Just Another Day In Bad Mental Space

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , on July 16, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

It does not feel like I am ever going to ‘get out’ of this current mind space. It’s just a dimmed place where the negative stuff is magnified and what little good stuff needs to be put under a microscope. I don’t like this. I have tried to ‘bring myself out’ of it in various ways. Eat some fruit, get some exercise, do something different than your routine…Nothing is working. Which just feeds the feelings of self loathing and self hatred and defeat.

I did manage to bathe today. First time in 5 days. I was gonna do it Sunday but settled for a simple hair wash instead then felt guilty for that.

I fetched my kid from day camp and she started in on me in an instant. She was hungry, their food was bad, she was starving and needed to be taken out to eat RIGHT NOW and she had a headache and the kids are mean and…

She has not shown an iota of appreciation for the lengths I have gone to to ensure her a decent summer. The sacrifices I have made to buy gas to get her there and back. The anxiety it brings because I live in terror of the car breaking down. None of it means anything to her. She just expects it. I look back and think, wow, me and my sister were like this, too, must be a kid thing.

Except this isn’t, this is a metastatic spoiling of a child from outside influences so I can’t discipline or deny her things and teach her a damn bit of gratitude or respect or obedience. I knew letting my mother into her life was gonna be a huge mistake. My mom, who was more fellow kid than an adult to me and my sis and our friends. To this day all she cares about is spending the most and saying yes the most and being liked the most. And I am reaping what she has sewn in the form of an entitled kid with no gratitude.

I can’t wait for school to start, regain some semblance of routine. At least then I know THEY are responsible for her safe transportation and I can CHOOSE whether to go to town or if I can afford the gas. I thought doing this summer camp thing would somehow bring us closer and she’d see how much I am willing to give up to make her happy but if anything, she is less grateful than ever. And before any well meaning person points out she’s a child and this is normal…it is NOT normal to this extent.She thinks everything is disposable. Break it, so and so will buy another one for you. Make mom cry, oh, well, make her feel bad for crying in front of you. Apologize for things that aren’t your fault, then completely blow off apologies when you know you’ve done wrong.

Wow, I sound like a bit of a monster but damn, I have sweat blood and tears for this kid and not so much as a thank you, just give me more, more, more, and oh it’s not good enough and this is wrong and that is wrong…

No, love, try living in a mind where even when NOTHING is wrong you still feel utterly sad and hopeless. THAT IS WRONG.

And I don’t see any change coming soon since I can’t get away from the psych nurse from hell. Guess I should have just been blatantly non compliant and refused to see her again but then, that would put me on the every 4 month list and…I can’t live in this mental space 4 more months. Something’s gotta give.

Do you know how truly torturesome it is to try and find out WHAT is so terrible that you’d feel this bad yet come up with NOTHING to explain it? Well, chances are, if you’re reading this blog, you’ve dealt with the lack of logic of depression so most of you probably do know.

I’m not taking her to day camp tomorrow or Thursday, her karma for acting like a whiny spoiled brat. Maybe by Friday she will have gained some appreciation and I will be in a different mind space. At least one where I can find a reason to keep living because today…I got nothing.

26 Hours

Posted in anxiety, bipolar disorder with tags , , , , , , on July 12, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I was literally two blocks from being home and free from the day’s petri dish activities…and then it hit me. The car’s heat gauge was creeping upward. The tire was making a funny sound. My brother’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard. We came home into the cool AC and still…this sense of panic creeping up on me, alarm bells going off in my head. I couldn’t understand it, I thought I’ve done well with the forced functioning and fake smiles and camradarie (pretending I really want to hang out with people when I WOULD RATHER GOUGE OUT MY OWN EYEBALLS BECAUSE, WELL, DEPRESSION!)…Hell, there were points I even forgot I was faking it, until there was mention of them invading my home, at which point…alarm bells. Yes, because it needs cleaned but also, because it is my ONLY true safe space and meets our needs, fuck everyone else’s standards. Except when you have a kid people hold you to pretty uppity standards so it’s just easier not to let them invade and judge and interfere and realize, hey, she’s not doing so good…

But even being home the dread metastasized. I ran some water, it wasn’t getting warm fast enough. OH, NO BROKE WATER HEATER. I put aload of wash in, oh no, that is not a normal sound the washer is making, it’s broke…on and on, every tiny thing upsetting me and making me freak out and want to find a closet (this house has none!) and curl up with a blankie and just assume the fetal position because no one should have to occupy this mental space…

And that was when it hit me. Yes, I am exhausted by all the petri dish activity. Yes, I had a rough night and did not sleep well. Yes, I am tired of faking it and pretending to be okay because otherwise people shun me….But what was really going on…

I WENT 26 HOURS WITHOUT A DOSE OF BUSPAR OR XANAX.

I hate to disappoint the benzo nazis at my psych place but I am an awful benzo addict. 26 hours and it didn’t occur to me once to take a pill. Because I truly don’t reach for a pill unless I am too my breaking point. I don’t use them constantly instead of braving my fears and toughing it out. I use them when I become overwhelmed with the sensory input and the panxiety and distorted thoughts set in.

Now I have 1 mg Xanax on board and am slowly starting to feel logical again. There’s still an unsettled fearful feeling but it’s quieter.

Now before anyone goes and plays devil’s advocate and says I was in withdrawal because it is so addictive…Well, then the same can be said about Tylenol or melatonin. I take it when I am overwhelmed and feel the need for it. That’s no addict behavior. 26 hours without even thinking of taking a pill is pretty damn good by my estimation. I’d be better if I had my optimal dose so the days I don’t take the allotted dose I could feel victorious, that just isn’t feasible at such a low dose because of course I am gonna need the full mg. Duh. But the days when I knew I could take up to 3 mg and I got by on .25 mg some days…I truly felt that I was making progress on my coping skills but I had my safety net. No safety net is not a good place to exist.

I think I may be calm and rational enough to go check the washer and maybe run some water to do the dishes. It’s gonna be in the 90s for the next week so the kitchen will be an unbearable hell, I need to get it done. Except it’s only 6 p.m. which means people can still call and text and pop in unannounced and I really don’t totally relax til dark when I know I am truly safe from these intrusions. Sometimes I think I’d make a great cave hermit as long as I had wifi. That’s sad but true. People are just too stressful and while I am making strides to adapt and function, it is just never going to be my wheelhouse. I am an introvert who likes to be in control of her safe space and people just don’t fit into that.

Now on my computer if I talk to you, I am choosing to do so and inviting you to be part of my world. That is my CHOICE. No one barges in through my wifi and critiques my appearance of house or tells me my kid is too loud and talkative. No smartasses like my dad who when I told him about my anxiety told me, “Well, go take a nerve pill.” I don’t think he could have said it in a more snide manner, his disdain was so clear. People like him are what I am battling and I just…don’t have enough resources most days. And what resources I do have, I am saving for my kid, my cats, and the people I choose to interact with in my comfy zone.

If I stop bathing, live in the same pajamas for two weeks, and my kid is dirty and hungry and does not go to school, THEN the dish dwellers can judge me. Until then…fuck off and let me be. And let me CHOOSE when I am in a mentally healthy enough state to invite you into my world or join you in yours.

But yeah, 26 hours and I didn’t even think of taking a pill. It’s happened before, of course, many times, but since they cut my dose, it’s just a neverending state of panic and terror. So I am learning to cope and tough it out, but it’s like giving a 300 pound man 25 mg of Tylenol and wondering why he’s still in pain. The dose has to be therapeutic for the individual circumstance. One size fits all is just bad medicine.

Fear And Sadness

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , on July 10, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I just returned from taking my kid into town for day camp. Each trip is a harrowing experience in paranoia, anxiety, panic, and fear. Last year it was an irritation, but it was not a dread. This year, with the reduced Xanax, it’s become a hellish experience that I am not ‘getting over’. I can’t come up with anything else that would have brought this terror response on compared to last year and all the upheaval and hell we went through. For my condition to worsen is insulting and injurious. I know the benzo nazi thinks she is protecting us from addiction but what she has done is reduce the quality of my life. And if bitching about it daily means I am an addict, DO explain why I have a 4 month supply that I don’t abuse.

Yesterday was sad. I don’t know why. I looked forward only to bedtime. My kid wasn’t acting out. Nothing awful happened. I didn’t even have to deal with my family. We’re not starving, our electricity is not being cut off. We are both in good physical health and have a home and car and computers and TVs. So why am so damn sad all the time?

The nurse and shrink seem to think upright and functioning means I am doing well.

I don’t feel at all like I am doing well. I have let the laundry pile up, the dishes sit in the sink, and about the only true functionality is keeping food in the house, bathing her and myself, and wearing clean clothes. This isn’t living, it is existing. And I know this isn’t as good as it gets, I know I am not expecting too much from a med combo. The raise in Lamictal and evening dose has done nothing to elevate my mood. I am still preoccupied only with going to sleep, even said sleep is interrupted and plagued with nightmares.

I am sad and some of it is losing the kitten the other day, it haunts me.

But I am also sad for no discernable reason, and I can’t help but admit I feel hopeless toward the future. Until I am out of this panicky depressed mental space, I don’t have a future because I am stuck treading water in the present. And the professionals’ idea of help is cognitive bullshit therapy or worse, mindfulness. I am fucking mindful that I am always down and there’s no real reason to feel that way!

Except…depression.

I am not okay. I am functioning at the bare minimum, but I am not okay.

Tomorrow night may be my undoing. I promised to take Spook to the county fair as part of her bday gift for next month and the thought of parking the car in the crowds, and navigating said crowds has me paranoid and freaking out. Everyone says get over it or you’ll do fine, but it does not help a bit.

Sometimes it’s worse when people do the tough love thing and encourage you and reassure you.

Because then if you truly do lose your shit, it’s like you’ve let them down, and it just adds to the self loathing.

I’ll say it again: well meaning people are the bane of my existence.

The Panxiety Files: Is It Just Me?

Posted in anxiety, anxiety disorders with tags , , , , , on July 3, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I had a swearing fury laden meltdown in public. Fortunately, only my kid was around to witness it, and sadly, she is used to my panic episodes of this ilk. We were in town and it was 90 degrees and my brother seemed to be taking forever to come out so we could get on the road home…and I started feeling panxious. Paranoid the car wouldn’t start or would break down cos of the extreme heat. Aggravated that I even brought up the notion of waiting in town an hour to bring him home. He’s turning 25, they bought him a vehicle, the state gave him a license, it’s time to cut the fucking apron strings and let him drive himself. I wanted to be helpful and yes, get a little help with gas money, but it’s turning out to be more anxiety than I can handle.

Is it just me?

Does anyone else have panic attacks when they are out of their ‘safe space’, be it a man/woman cave, home, car, hangout, et al?

Do you feel your chest tighten and your belly roll and your heart beating in your chest, belly, and neck? Do you find it hard to breathe? Do you feel like a cornered animal and lash out with angry foul words even though you know it will serve no purpose except to later make you ashamed of your inability to conquer panic and control your negative emotions?

Or is it just me?

I REITERATE; THIS IS AN INTERACTIVE BLOG SO I AM ASKING PEOPLE TO CHIME IN.

Tell me how your anxiety and panic manifest. Do you get dizzy? Sweaty? Go weak in the knees, feel woozy, and swear you’ll pass out but you don’t have time cos your gut goblins are dictating that you need a bathroom cos you are getting sick?

If it is just me, well…I can buy that my lashing out with foul angry language may be specific to me. I used to burst into tears and become super terrified and it really ran so called friends off. They were repulsed by the sniveling, terrified creature that was embarrassing them in public. So I learned to mask the symptoms to a degree. I learned to let it turn to anger and angry foul words because guess what?

People are more forgiving of that than if you cry and fall to pieces.

It’s sort of a sad statement about the decency of humans. Or at least the ones I have known who have been like rats scurrying off a sinking ship when I melt down and it becomes humiliating for them. They never once think how it makes me feel and how frustrating it is to be this so called bad ass yet get my ass kicked by a panic disorder I didn’t ask for, don’t want, and wish to hell I could get rid of.

So…chime in. How does your panic mess with your day to day life? Your ability to work, to run errands, to be a parent, be a spouse/gf/bg/et al. How do you cope? C’mon, toss me a bone here. I really need to know it isn’t just me whose panic has metastasized to the point I can barely leave my home without a meltdown. I am asking for input and yeah, maybe I don’t want to feel so alone in all of this. It’s not that I want others to suffer this shit, it’s just that I know some do and…if you have any coping mechanisms for the worst of it that soothe you…

To quote Dr. Frasier Crane, “I’m listening.”

Clarified

Posted in anxiety with tags , , , , , on June 24, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Prior to taking a 1mg Xanax, I was lethargic, jittery, and had no motivation.

I took 1 mg and suddenly found clarity and energy. I accomplished some piddly things, some froufrou things like make up (though in this humidity, it seems futile) and I don’t feel the least bit tired.

Everyone I’ve talked to says they opted for Klonopin or whatever because Xanax made them too sleepy.

It does not make me sleepy.

It calms my mind enough so that I can stop spinning my wheels and advance to a better mental space. Especially at the higher dose. This is why I call them my sane makers. Prior to this, I was shaky and low and paranoid and a little…scared. Of what, I don’t know, but that’s what makes panic disorder a bitch. You panic for no apparent reason thus it is a disorder.

One little pill and I get a refreshed outlook on everything.

Even my previously 404 missing will to live has suddenly been replaced with a little zest to get through the day in a better frame of mind and without my sole focus being sleep.

I don’t know how any reputatable, intelligent doctor could villify such an amazing medication that boosts quality of life so drastically. It seems rather than protecting me by cutting my dose to very little, they have done me more harm than good. I wish I knew how to make them see this.

But that would require them to stop with the one size fits all treatment mentality and treat us like individuals.

Sad statement about mental health care when your desire to be treated as the individual you are is as unlikely as pigs flying.

Wait List

Posted in anxiety with tags , , , , , on June 22, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I am on edge, due to waiting for my kid to return from her grandfather’s. Dad already called me to see if I was still in town so I could fetch her at the auction they took her to, she’s antsy. Ha ha, welcome to my world, bitches. I somehow got roped into driving my brother to town since they weren’t home and I just think it’s fucking stupid. He’s about to turn 24, the state gave him a license, they bought him and a truck and insured it…Let him go be a grown up so I can stop being unpaid Uber. Yes, that’s right, they decided since they helped mow the lawn that all he has to contribute is occasionally buy my kid a burger or fries. Nothing for me, just a burger or fries for her. For $15 a week in gas.

Yeah, I guess I have reason to be edgy. I’d wanted a break from going in town but I didn’t get one and it cost me gas money. What a waste.

He said they bought her a few ‘tubs’ of stuff, which I am dreading because we are already in too little space chaos (no one understood why we had a 3 bedroom trailer when it was just us, well, THERE, we needed the storage space for all the crap they drag over to us). I just want her home so we can resume our normally scheduled programming. Sure, it’s stressful the way she talks non stop and is always fussing about boredom, but it beats never knowing if they are going to crash my door dragging in more stuff I don’t have space for. (A house with no closets does not have ‘storage’ space.)

This waiting leads to panic attacks. I’m already a dose in to my sane maker, so I can’t really take another one for awhile. The last of the daily stingy allotment courtesy of the benzo nazis. I know it seems disrespectful to call them that but it’s fitting. Hitler targeted people due to their faith and his perception that they endangered his idea of a master race. This center and their doctor are targeting Xanax because some idgets are hooked on opioids. Same fucking mentality. Oh, and I am not belittling addiction to painkillers, I know it’s a serious problem and people deserve empathy. But my empathy dries up when their choices dictate my medication dose as opposed to it being dictated by my needs and my own ability to monitor my usage. So, yeah, benzo nazis it is, sorry, not fucking sorry.

When I am edgy, I get ranty. I don’t like it, it makes me feel like Ms Meanie Pants. If I am being a bitch it should be true anger, not anxiety. But until they return my spawn and our regularly schedule programming resumes, I’m a breath from a panic attack, ready to climb walls cos…I hate waiting. For anyone or anything. Because it caused anxiety and I fucking loathe anxiety.

Zero fucks are given by those around me.

One day they will pay for their skepticism. I believe in karma. One day all their doubt about the severity of my disorders is going to bite them on the ass, somehow, some way, someday.

IU’ll work on trying not to gloat, but no promises.