Archive for paranoia

The 7 Day Disconnect Ends

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , on August 20, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Our internet is fixed finally. Sorta. It keeps going up and down and the tech told me it could just be the weather, we had a wicked thunderstorm this morning. But the phone is working and the internet half ass works, it is never down more than a minute or two. Annoying but better than what we for 7 days. NOTHING. Oh, I had my phone data but all my kid does is stream youtube so that would have burned 2 gigs. I allowed myself only to post prewritten posts to spare the data. (Geesh, it’s gone down 5 times since I started TRYING to write this, wtf Frontier????)

I’d like to say a 7 day net purge cured all my mental issues but alas, it did not. I am battling them more than ever. Waking up multiple times a night. Constant anxiety and paranoia. Hitting snooze in the morning because getting up is too hard. Barely the energy to refill ice cube trays and run minimum errands in the petri dish. I thought last year was my worst year but this year is quickly surpassing it, mental health wise. If this NP doesn’t put me on a double antidepressant regime before the seasonal depression sets in, I am probably going to end up hospitalized. No one can shut down this much without it biting them on the ass eventually.

To my credit today, I bathed and cooked a meal for my kid and myself. That was a battle. I still need to feed the outdoor cats again and take out trash and get her into a bath. Once again, I am looking forward to bedtime. Which won’t hold because I am almost out of melatonin with B6 and the only place to get it is where the donor works. That’s a powder keg situation for me, especially after Spook drew me a picture of a heart with a hole in it and I asked why and she said that was where her dad used to be until he left…Knowing how much he hurts her really enrages me. He thinks it’s all about him and me and that has NOTHING to do with it anymore. I was over that about 3 weeks after he bailed. But I never let go of my hope that at some point he’d grow the hell up and be a father to her. Proof I am borderline delusional, I guess. I know I shouldn’t let his presence psych me out. Hell, 6 weeks ago I was in a better mental state and went in there even though he was working. I don’t think the NP has a clue how fucked up things have gotten for me over the last couple of months. And her resistance to dual therapy kind of tells me she doesn’t much care about my progress, just impressing her overseer with how few meds she prescribes. That’s a sad statement about a psych care center, ain’t it? More worried about pleasing your boss than doing your patient some good? Not like I want more pills to take, but I do need to get out of this black haze that covers my every thought.

I guess I didn’t wear a good enough mask at the family thing Sunday night. My dad called and asked if I was pissed off cos I looked mad. Well, bees were buzzing near my eyelashes and bugs were eating me alive and I was itchy and covered in welts and it was hot which makes me sweat and my sweat makes me break out and itch more…I wasn’t thrilled about being there, no, but I tried to put on the fake mask and get through it. I suppose I failed. I asked my sister if I seemed mad to her and she said no and agreed it was just annoying with all the bugs and bees.

My mom has spinal stenosis and is waiting to hear back from the spinal surgeon. She is terrified she is going to end up paralyzed. I hope they can at least get her out of pain, she’s already talking about wanting to die rather than live in that much pain.

Which of course makes me feel shitty for worrying about my ‘head problems’ because according to the entire field, it’s just ‘behavioral health’ now, implying that behavior modification can somehow fix mental health disorders. That is what the term says to me. Whoever came up with it needs smacked with a rotting mackeral. It’s as bad as any stigma. Surprises my ass trash center isn’t using that title. Thankfully it’s still psychiatric health. Though the current regime may change that, especially since they merged with the big hospital from the state capitol. I think calling it behavioral is going to keep a lot of people from admitting they have a mental health problem and a lot of people will avoid getting help because they think it’s their fault their thoughts are distorted. Very dangerous. I admit some of my behaviors could be changed, it might make a minimal improvement, but for the most part…I am chemically imbalanced and no amount of behavior modification is going to change that or help it. Implying otherwise is downright cruel and ignorant.

Did anyone miss my long rants? I know, I posted a few, but this one is coming to you live, not hours after the fact. Live insanity for all to enjoy.

I used to say I don’t suffer from insanity, I enjoy every minute of it. Now that I an inching closer to true insanity, I am not so sure about that.

Advertisements

Slipping Sanity

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , on August 18, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

We survived the cookout thingie at my dad’s. It was hellish for me between the sun, the swarming sweat bees, and the bugs biting me. Not to mention sitting between a MAGA sign and confederate flags in their yard and a sign on the tree across the road that said “I love Jesus”. I just can’t reconcile that any deity would have anything to do with the hate spewing MAGA movement. Maybe that’s my hang up, IDK anymore.

We came home and I dispatched Spook to get a bath. I found the trash knocked over and chastised Godsmack since she is the only cat inside. Then I came in my room and found all my med bottles knocked over on the wardrobe, some of them missing. I went full on paranoiac and panic stricken, thinking someone busted in for my Xanax stash or something. I went searching for signs someone had been inside, since my dad mentioned seeing the landlord riding round town today. Never mind that he never could find the back door key and has no copy of the front door key. Logic was out of the fucking ball field. I went full on NUTS, albeit without alerting Spook. Then I talked myself off the ledge, reminding myself if someone had broken in they’d likely have taken our electronics and I haven’t exactly broadcast my mental issues or medications around town so who’d know to steal that stuff? As if I have anything useful for people to use or sell other than Xanax. If someone had wanted to stealthily rummage they’d likely not have knocked things to the side or to the floor or whatever. Now who would do that and not right it? A CAT. Cats climb. And I used to keep beef jerky up there so no doubt Godsmack was probably hunting for that.

This paranoia and panic is starting to scare the shit out of me. My mind is going sideways.

Worse, I am scared it is impacting my kid. Yesterday she had a tussle with the neighbor boys and came inside bawling and hyperventilating that ‘they’ were going to come take her away from me because the boys saw her move a sharp saw my dad left here in the yard and they started saying she was trying to commit suicide. She was a wreck, and it continued into today with her freaking out when I got a phone call. She asked, “Should I pack my stuff?” I don’t think any of us have done her any good. In the course of trying to teach her not to tell lies or ‘cry wolf’ because she could be removed from my care, now every tiny thing has her scared of that outcome. It brings me great shame and guilt. It took me 2 hours to calm her down yesterday and she was all freaked out about seeing the boys at church or at the bus stop and they threatened to have some 13 year old girl punch her…The drama is like a repeat of the trailer park and I’m just like, stay inside on the tablet, at least you don’t fight with it. And I have to wonder if she is learning this bickering and not being able to get along with people from me, but then, I’d have to be around people for her to learn that. All she sees from me is avoidance of people and spending my time with her or alone and the obligatory family stuff.

Dear God, is it possible I programmed her to be anxious? She didn’t get this way until we moved. If she was going to pick it up from me, she had 8 years to acquire it. Which makes me think this place is just toxic for both of us. Sadly, there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I have started to think moving here is going to be the end of me, and the beginning of Spook’s road to crazy neuroses. I do my best to shield her from the worst of it by keeping it in my head or on these pages though I must admit I’ve been a little too open to saying, “Stop that, it makes me nervous.” These days, what doesn’t make me nervous and paranoid? The knocked over pill bottles sent me into such a tailspin and panic…I felt like for a moment there, I disconnected with reality. Thinking I am so important people would break in just to mess up my crazy pills? But ya know, once you’ve had your place robbed once, it kind of sets you up to be a little paranoid and suspicious. Just because it was 5 years ago doesn’t change that it happened and it was a total invasion of privacy and space. I keep the place locked down because of this even if most people in Armpit don’t even lock their doors because it’s so ‘safe’ here.

Cripes, my ears and nose are itching and my mother’s idiotic superstitions are sending me off another flight of paranoia and panic. When I say I am scared I am losing my shit, I mean it. I’m not a danger to my kid, I don’t even spank her and frankly, we’ve been getting along very well lately. But this quick to panic and go paranoid, and my inability to shake off the dark depressive inertia that clouds my every thought…It’s frightening. And NOT my status quo.

My sanity is slipping. And I am starting to wonder if there’s going to come a point I need antipsychotics. Which if I do, I’m done, because all of them have such heinous side effects, I know I would never reliably stay on them. I can’t handle the side effects, never could. But can I handle the crazy? Then again, if the crazy is largely due to my heightened anxiety from the med reduction, would an antipsychotic even make a dent?

So much garbage in, garbage out. I just gotta keep holding on, my kid is counting on me. Though better than any prescription would be the financial means to move back to town and get the fuck out of my dad’s shadow. But since they made it clear if we ever leave they won’t help us move ever again, I’d need a lot of money to hire moving people. So we’re stuck, yet again, and it’s bad for both our mental health. I don’t think moving back to town would cure my mental issues, but I know it’d ease a lot of my anxiety. All I can do is keep going and fight like hell against the pending insanity. Because I will not let anyone take Spook away from me, we are a family and we need each other. More than that, we are very attached and love each other. Not even my own mental demons are going to rob me of the bond I have with my daughter.

I hope I’ve got a hell of a lot of fight left in me. I am gonna need it.

The Babylon Files-Tuesday Babble

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

In a nod to one of my all time fave hair metal bands, Faster Pussycat, I have dubbed the mindless day long rambles as “Babylon” as the lyrics of their song goes, “They won’t shut up, they just keep babbling on and on…” How fitting for my mindless random thoughts during the course of a day. This was from yesterday but I figured I can spare the hotspot data to post it. Life without unlimited internet access SUCKS.
—-
It hasn’t been 24 hours with the internet down and already my equilibrium is shattered. The anxiety is immense, I am on the edge of my seat, waiting for the next shoe to drop. I keep telling myself to go do something but I can’t shake the ‘deer in the headlights’ mental paralysis. Which is unlike yesterday where I kicked ass and took names with the lawn. I don’t understand why I can’t just find some consistency in mental states as far as anxiety goes. Every day is a mixed bag, a surprise of paranoia,and fear of ‘what will go wrong next?’
Living life on the edge this way is not to my liking and yet…so often it has been all I’ve known. The current living situation is in itself unsettling. For awhile I thought I was gaining acceptance and settling in. Instead, I keep thinking back to the solace of our squalid trailer where at least I had a shower instead of only a bath. These little things have a lot to do with mental tranquility. Change is very difficult for me. It’s been over a year since the move and I still can’t think of this place as anything other than ‘bad luck’. Yet the prospect of another move, even if it was financially possible, is too overwhelming to contemplate. I am a homebody and since home is the only place I feel truly safe…Holding onto even an unhappy situation seems crucial.
It never ceases to amaze me how I can live in hoarder conditions yet overflowing trash cans or things even an inch from where I am used to them being throws me off balance. There is something very wrong with my brain.
To distract myself from the hellish paranoia and paralysis I took some stuff out to the shed. I’ve been putting it off for months because most of it was toys my kid weeded through but now it’s done. Not that it made much difference. I can’t control the clutter which was why I quit going to yard sales. But leave it to my dad to go to auctions and keep pawning stuff on me even when I make it clear I have no room. He is pushy and does the same to my sister. Not that they don’t find good deals sometimes but geesh, he bitches about my clutter yet makes it worse when I am saying no more. Forget buying a vowel, the man needs to buy a hearing aid or two and some self awareness.
You know I am nervous big time when I need to pee every fifteen minutes and start breaking out in hives. Does not help that when I get sweaty due to exertion, heat, or anxiety, I have a skin condition where it reacts to my own sweat and makes me break out in splotches and itchiness.
Sick of Spam calls. Unfortunately my cheapie phone does not have a block function so I am left to be stalked by these idgets. I know they have a job to do and I can respect that but trying to tell me my car warranty is out and they can help is fucking stupid when my car is a $450 model 2001. Warranty wore out long before I got the car. And trip advisors, ha ha ha, like I can afford a trip anywhere.
The price of a deep depression…things are let slide because you can barely get out of bed and do the bare minimum being a parent and pet owner. So when you do go to pick it up no matter how much you accomplish, you find more that needs done so you flog yourself for being such a loser who can’t even keep up with what others do every single day with multiple kids and full time jobs and other obligations. No one seems to grasp this part of depression. They think we are lazy, slackers, slobs, and they never think how it batters our self esteem and leads to self loathing. Small consistent efforts worked at first. Until the depression got really bad during winter and then…Just doing dishes and keeping laundry clean while tending to kid and cats became my bar to meet. Beyond that…I just didn’t have the strength or mental stability. It’s not a cop out, it is a fact, and I really wish I had a close friend who wouldn’t judge me and who could come in and help me get the place tip top so we don’t get tossed out should the wrong people see the clutter and report me as an unfit mom. Sadly, I don’t have anyone like that and I can’t afford to hire help. So I chisel away at it in bits and pieces and hope for the best.
A TV show just said, “You cannot let people live rent free in your head, it’s not healthy.” Okay, now directions on how to evict the assholes…
My kid is the one starting 5th grade tomorrow yet I am the one experiencing anxiety and dread. I set the alarm for the routine and then got this awful feeling that on one antidepressant alone going into seasonal depression, what if I can’t get moving in the mornings? Sure, lately I have been waking between 6 and 7 even with no alarm but as the season change nears, I know what is coming and I am scared. Scared of failing as a parent, fear of somehow impacting her with my depressive abyss and high strung anxiety level. I wish there was an anxiety button you could just flip off.
1:22 p.m. and I am already counting down til bedtime. I was gonna run to the gas station but the paranoia and panic have set in, keeping my glued in place and ‘scared’ to go out. It isn’t physical fear, it’s just illogical anxiety. Sometimes I can fight through it. Other times, it owns me. Today, it is in charge. I hate it.
It’s nearing 5 p.m. and I am starting to feel some relief from the panxiety. Three and half more hours til Spook goes to bed so I can too. I’m looking forward to it, but then, when don’t I look forward to the solace of sleep. My dreams may sometimes be sad or scary but I can wake from them. I can’t wake up from reality.

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.

It’s Been Awhile…Time For a Good Rant and Ramble

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

Okay, so my chaotic thinking makes most of my points come across as incoherent rants. But I have been trying to keep the theme consistent at least. Today I just wanna let loose on random events of late, so buckle your seatbelt, take your motion sickness pills, and let’s get read to ramble…

Last Thursday about did me in. I made six trips to town and back, had to go to another town to register my kid for school. Friday was the camp picnic and swim for family. I drove around the park three times and couldn’t find them. They texted me but because the laws on phone use have tightened I leave it in my purse, and because loud noise startles me, I keep the volume low so I didn’t get the text til hours after the fact. I heard my daughter screaming my legal name across a pond and she knows I hate that but it got my attention so I drove around and joined the picnic.

The pool was a hell of its own. First thing, one of the kids asked me if I was pregnant. NOPE, JUST FAT. Grr, it happens all the time and has since I was 12 years old. My family has a pear shaped body and we all carry our weight in poofy bellies. My sister got down to a size 6 but could’t shake the genetic loser lottery and her belly poof remains. I wish people would just shut the hell up. I know, it was a kid, but still…My first time in a swimsuit in public in 30 years and an insult right out of the gate. For awhile my kid and I had fun, I was teaching her to do flips in the water and watching her go down the slide. Then she volunteered me to watch this one girl, she used to live in the trailer park, and man, she is a spoiled undisciplined brat who wants the world to revolve around her. I gave this kid money for snacks and stuff and she had a bawling fit because I have my kid more money. She didn’t even say thank you. I was bored 45 minutes into this outing, mind you. By hour two and with that whiny demanding brat my responsibility, I told Spook it was time to leave. She had a tantrum and I kept my cool in front of everyone, even though what she needed was a swat on the butt, too old to act like a toddler. Then I felt guilty when I realized we hadn’t been there 2 hours but technically, had she not volunteered me to supervise El Bratto, I wouldn’t have gotten so stressed out and wanted to get the hell away from the kid.

My dad darkened my step 3 days in a row, imposing his will on me, stalking me by phone as well. I’d just spent 6 days and 12 trips to town to the petri dish, I needed to clear my mind and NOT have people contact. He gave zero fucks. I have big issues with people who ‘tell’ you they are coming by, or they just show up and demand you drop everything to accommodate their schedule. It’s just disrespectful. Nothing is gonna change the man and sometimes, in my angriest moments, I think, wow, my life is gonna be less stressful once he is gone. Then I remember he’s in okay health and his mother is still alive at 92 so chances are good I have 20 more years of his asshole-ness…Then I feel shitty for thinking such awful things, my poor kid doesn’t even have a dad, at least mine is still in my life.

I didn’t go anywhere out of town for 5 days straight, that’s how tapped out last week made me. Last year due to money issues, I was basically trapped here 7 days a week and I felt hobbled. Now I can go days without leaving town and it doesn’t much bother me. Maybe because the summer cost me so much in mental and physical energy. My desire to make sure my kid had a good summer really was priority, but at what cost to me mentally? I’ll be recovering for weeks to come, I am sure, but…it’s worth it for her to be content and happy. I think. She’s moody as I am, so the littlest things set her off. Today it’s this fish fry her grandpa is taking her to tomorrow night. She is petrified they will force her to eat baked beans and cole slaw so she’s been in a tailspin ever since. Her own fault, she asked if they’d take her and she knows their rules about eating food even if you don’t like it…The tiniest things send her into huge meltdowns thus we have dubbed her the drama llama. She hates that name. I think it’s adorable and fitting. Besides, my dad’s nickname for me at her age was ‘lazy butt’ or ‘barge feet’. I’d rather be a llama.

I am feeling ‘betterish’ today now that I doubled my Xanax dose and took Buspar with it. I managed to move from my deer in the headlights state and do a load of laundry and hang it to dry. I let my kid go get her friend and they are playing out in the yard and for once, I am not all paranoiad and fearful. My brother darkened my doorstep bringing back my trash cans and telling me about their plans for the fish fry and I didn’t spaz out. It’s all about the medication. It truly helps clear my head and calm my thoughts and it leads me back to semi rational thought. I don’t like ‘disobeying’ the script but they’re not helping me so I have to help myself. I’m still under the old dose, so it’s not like I am abusing it. Just enough to get myself off the crazy train.

I need to do dishes and vacuum. I don’t think it’s gonna happen. JUst a load of laundry, picking up some trash in the yard, and running to the gas station wore me out. It’s the curse, though. Every month it taps me out and renders me half conscious from sleepiness and in pain from cramps and my whole body feels bruised and leaden…I may just have to settle for my small goals that I managed and try again tomorrow. I think once I survive this damn debacle of a party Sunday my sister and mom have planned for Spook, I will feel a lot better. I don’t understand why they have to put off paying their damn bills and spend hundreds of dollars for a party the kid will forget by next week. They do it more for them than for her, I swear. Hopefully this will be the last year they feel the need to go overboard since she’ll be 11 and probably in her ‘i hate adults’ phase.

See, I knew the depression was SERIOUS when I didn’t even enjoy going to Big Lots or looking at Halloween displays. That is usually my happy time. This time it was just a depressing chore. So if I can’t enjoy what usually makes my spirits soar gleefully…is it any wonder why I am dreading an over the top birtday party populated not by actual family or our friends, but my sister’s people and their kids? Every damn year. And because I am so disorganized and anhedonic I just let them do it because no doubt I’d fuck it up. Organization is not my thing, especially as of late. Just choosing clothes or what to eat leaves me stressed out and baffled and unable to make a choice. So I guess I bring these ridiculous parties on myself but when I did protest, my mom got nasty and told me to ‘do it your fucking self then’.

My parents really aren’t warm and fuzzy types, at all. And they weren;t before they hit their seventies so they can’t blame age. That and I don’t think either of them like me. They love me, but they don’t much like me. And that’s okay. The feeling is reciprocal. With love and respect, of course.

Fear The Phones

Posted in anxiety with tags , , , , , , , , , on August 8, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Since I signed up for job sites and furthering education sites, my phone has been blasted with calls from all over the bloody country. This is not merely annoying, it is borderline traumatizing for someone with a phone phobia. Now I am not saying the sight of a phone makes me shrivel and I can’t use one. It is perhaps the noise, the potential for bad news or harrassment, the unknown, plus the fact I am on a prepaid plan so those pesky calls cost me minutes which translates into money…

I need my cell phone because I am terrified of my car breaking down on the interstate since we are stuck in Bumfuck, Armpit. It is for my peace of mind, the safety of my child, and yes, my convenience should I CHOOSE to place a call or receive a call. All these random numbers from both coasts where I know no one so there’s no reason to be calling me-and they never leave messages so I know it’s spammers or robo calls…It just lends to the anxiety.

And my dad is constantly calling me. That adds to the panic because he NEVER has anything positive to say about me, he just criticizes and mocks me and prattles on about his family, his life, never giving me a chance to get a word in edgewise. And on the rare occasion I do get a word in, he just dismisses it and keeps talking about himself and his family or his job or his neighbors. One day he called like 5 times. He’s a pain in the ass. But if I don’t answer the phone, the next thing I know he is driving by the house, thinking the worst, that maybe I went bonkers and hurt myself and my kid. (Yeah, he has lots of faith in me.) When he isn’t working, he’s like a fucking phone stalker and it drives me nuts. I live for the days he works til evening and the calls are few and far between. What truly irks me is that he can almost never get my sister on the phone but he doesn’t go storming her damned door. He invades my peace, my privacy, and he gives zero fucks. Which is why the only time he does NOT call is when he’s going to darken my doorstep unannounced and that is even more traumatizing than the phone stalking. I’ve tried to talk to him, to stepmonster, but they dpn’t care that it is upsetting and downright rude.

Today the stepmonster called to tell me I am in the hot seat with the village for having too many cats outside. Like we haven’t tried to find homes for them. I won’t see them go to the pound. Hopefully she keeps her word and talks to this farm lady she knows who loves cats and might take them in. This is a woman who provides her cats with a heated water dish during winter so the water doesn’t freeze up so I know they will be well cared for.

But I am still pissed cos stepmonster and dad have twice as many cats roaming their yard, and my neighbor has 9 cats that come and go inside and out. Why am I being singled out? And of course, stepmonster had to get a dig in. “We gotta get this taken care of, we have to keep you in that house.” There are days when they stress me out so much, and the cost of this place and its isolation that make me think getting thrown out would be doing us a damn favor. I know that isn’t logical thinking, but damn, these people are toxic and you can’t divorce family. I’ve tried. Now that I have the grandchild, they won’t piss off or leave me be. If they just wanted to spend time with her and not speak to me beyond hello, I’d be good with that.

Phones are eeevil. I’ve said it for years because I find them so upsetting. They are there for MY convenience. If I choose not to answer a call, I should not be subjected to the door being stormed like I haven’t answered in days. Geesh, miss two calls and they start melting down. I hate being tied down to a phone, it reminds me of my time as R’s prisoner when he even expected me to take the damn thing to the bathroom so I wouldn’t dare to miss his calls. My life feels a lot like a prison at times because people impose their will on me without regard to how damaging their behavior is to my mental state. I am supposed to consider everyone else’s feelings yet no one gives a damn about mine.

Okay, I am ranting and panicking and getting pissed off the more I rant. Time to take a step back and breathe. And wait for dad to call later and start in on me about my messy yard, too many cats, blah blah blah. 46 years old and he still insists on infantalizing me then going “Grow up.” How about you back the fuck off and let me have my own life with some damn peace of mind and privacy and the right to not answer your every call simply because I’m not up to an hour long tirade about your life where I get not a word in about our lives?

People who don’t play fair is a big trigger for me. Treat others as you want to be treated. So I don’t bug them incessantly, I don’t show up without a call in respect of them maybe being busy or tired, and I don’t critique their yard even if looks like something off Sanford and Son. (Yes,their shed is covered in metal signs and it looks TRASHY but I keep my mouth shut cos it’s their business, not mine!) I am sick of being respectful and minding my own business when others won’t reciprocate. I don’t know how that couldn’t be a trigger.

To quote Slipknot, people=shit. And some of them do.

Parenting With Panic and Paranoia

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , on August 7, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

If you even read this blog occasionally, you’re acquainted with the basic facts. 1-I am a single mom, 2, my butt is being kicked by a myriad of mental health issues that seem to worsen by the day and my current psych care is less than stellar, or even competent.

Being a parent with mental health issues is tricky. You want people to see that you’re not doing well, but you don’t want it to seem like you’re unable to care for your kid(s) so they’re taken away, so you white knuckle it daily, doing what bare minimum you can when your disorders are at their worst. Some days, that means getting my kid up, dressed, and off to school. Other days I can whirlwind it like last week when I had to make six trips to town in two days and one involved being seen in public at the pool in a bathing suit surrounded by noisy kids. I am still paying for that level of functionality. Today, I managed to keep my word on the promised trip for her birthday to Chuck E Cheese but since our return home…

I’ve grown increasingly mentally tired. The sound of her friends outside, while giving me joy that she finally has made some friends here in Armpit, their boistery behavior wears thin on my nerves. I am half afraid to step outside as if these ten-12 year olds are viable threats against me physically and mentally. I forced myself to sit on the step for a few minutes and pet my kitties but then the boys started throwing rocks and I told them if one hit my car, butts were getting kicked. And I came inside. They are all too busy and noisy and it just, ick. Don’t get me wrong. Spook has struggled so hard since we moved here, I am very happy she has found some neighborhood friends to hang with. That is great for her.

My mental state, however, means what is great for her is pretty toxic for me. What kind of 46 year old woman has feelings of being threatened by kids who could not even care less about my existence? Isn’t that me making myself more important than I am? But it’s not like it’s limited to kids. I am in ‘everyone is out to get me’ mode. It’s not a pleasant mental state. And it’s not even a ‘hearing voices, feeling physically threatened’ situation. I know these kids aren’t out to harm me. Yet my mind is sending out red alarms and tuning them out has become impossible. So I stay inside, peeking out from time to time to make sure they haven’t maimed my kid or property, but mostly…I stay far from the fray.

This isn’t really me. I’ve always gotten along well with kids, and was always the fun parent at the trailer park which was why kids wanted to play there.

So I am here wondering, WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO ME?

It isn’t enough to recognize your thoughts and feelings have little to do with reality and are just distortions from mental illness. It should be that easy, but it’s not. One impossibility I have found in my 30 plus years battling a plethora of diagnoses is that no matter how hard you try, how driven and determined you are, you *may* be able to talk yourself ‘out’ of the distorted thoughts and feelings one out of ten times, if that. The harder you try to fight what you are feeling the worse it gets. Acceptance is just easier, and ultimately, healthier.

I guess the whole point of this ramble is to say, yes, I am a single mom and my kid is clothed and fed and had a good bday and is registered for school so…I’m nailing it that way. But day to day, dealing with simple stuff like her wanting to go outside and play with friends or ride her bike…My terror is causing me to become clingy helicopter mom and every waking moment is spent fighting my own fears. I just get this bad feeling in my gut that if she isn’t safely inside and within my reach, something is going to go wrong. This would have been more appropriate, and called for, 8 years ago when the donor walked out and left me with a kid to raise alone. She was still in a crib then. I have done battle for years with her social life, her school life, trying to keep her fed and clothed and happy and healthy…

It’s never been this bad before, where even letting her go outside and be a normal kid leads to me feeling a stress stomach ache, heightened anxiety, and rampant paranoia and fear. I am not nailing it right now.

I am hanging by a thread.

I live by only one edict: my damage must NEVER overshadow her having a normal (ish) childhood. She is aware of mom’s problems and weirdness and sometimes it impacts her negatively (like my ban of friends coming into the house, I just can’t handle the invasion right now) but I suffer in silence quite often in my effort to give her a normal childhood.

I only hope the times I succeed will shape her more strongly than the times I fail.

You can only do your best as a parent, but there are no doevers and you can’t return a sociopathic adult child to the hospital so…even if giving it your all bankrupts you psychologically…Anything less really is not an option.

Now I am going to go make sure the slime kit her friend just gave her as a gift doesn’t become a mad scientist situation. Not that I am much use with slime kits, the instructions are gobbledygook to my confused and scattered brain. Least I can make sure she doesn’t glue her hand to her face or eat Borax, I guess.

One day the inventors of slime are probably going to be sued when the long term use of Borax and glue for making slime is revealed to be toxic. Every kid these days is obsessed with slime so it’s gonna be a class action lawsuit.

Or is that my distorted paranoid thinking?

Parenting is hard. Parenting when your brain sends you wrong signals constantly…this is walking a highwire with no net. And my balance is shitty.