Archive for social anxiety


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

My brain has become a scary place for me. I just feel so low, so depressed, so utterly unhappy..But I can’t pinpoint anything truly making me feel so hopeless and dark. It is the very definition of clinical depression. That raise in Lamictal dose seems to have had the opposite effect and made me feel more depressed than I was.

Earlier, I was in such a dark place, I had this fucked up thought. If you were to ‘accidentally’ trip on some concrete steps and aim to land on your head hard enough, you’d never have to feel this way again.

This is NOT normal for me.

It is terrifying that it would even occur to me.

There is no intent, so not to worry. But the thoughts stirring in my mind are honestly scaring me. I honestly don’t know when my next pointless nurse appointment is, and it doesn’t matter because she has zero interest in helping me. Or that is how I perceive her ‘back to me’ detached manner with the only goal being having me on as few meds as possible. And THEIR policies are why I am taking two drugs for anxiety as opposed to the one that worked so damn well on its own.

I guess this could add to my depression but it’s more irritating, frustrating, and hopeless than it is depressing. I’ve pretty much had lackluster psych care my whole life. The good ones are very rare. Oh, the joy of rural life and being poor. Somehow this means I deserve subpar care from apathetic providers as opposed to someone with good insurance in an urban area who can get their dream doctor and make positive progress. I started going downhill during the raise in Abilify and the halving of Wellbutrin, all of which she did simultaneously, as well as increasing the Lamictal. Then the next appointment she refused to do more than one change and refused my input completely. She has played a part in making my summer very difficult and unhappy and there will be no consequences for her, those are all for me to pay for her ineptitude.

It would help if you could be honest with the providers without fear of being committed against your will or being deemed dangerous to your child just because your mind is in a scary dark place. I have no ill will toward my child. I feel I owe her an apology for being such a high strung depressed mess.

I keep telling myself I’ve been in this dark space many times, and the bad thoughts have occasionally wormed their way in. I just have to hold fast, stay strong, and not buy into the depressive distortions. This,too, shall pass. Just not fast enough to make me feel like I am not losing my mind.

At this point it’s such a useless cluttered dark place, I wonder if I’d be losing much of value.

But that is depression talking and I MUST REJECT whatever negative input it is giving me as best I can.

Which is easier said than done.

Especially now that I am in hormonal purgatory for two weeks and still pining for that dream work from home job since all my problems seem to be ‘out there;, trying to fit into a mold I simply do not. If I had physical disabilities, the world would be empathetic and break their backs to meet my abilities and not penalize me for my limitations. But nope, that’s not the way it is with mental illness. Sometimes even those who blog about mental health issues don’t come across as all that empathetic and supportive because they have stabilized and it’s sticking. Yet I remember these same people at their worst and remember how I extended myself to them even when I had little to give…The same is not being returned but by a couple of harcore supporters. I don’t know why I expected differently. Life is not fair, things are not always reciprocal, and while a large percentage of people with mental health diagnoses do have remission and reach stability…

I am not one of those lucky people and I guess people just get sick of hearing about it. For that I am truly sorry, I don’t like sounding like a broken record.

I don’t like living life like a broken record, but I don’t get the option of walking away because I am ‘too negative’.

I should be so lucky.


The Motherlode Of Problems

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , , on July 19, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

My daughter made a new male friend here in town, close to her age. He has some learning/developmental delays and does not have many friends. He isn’t entirely unpleasant. He is, however, spoiled rotten on a materialistic level, fussy, and demanding. Qualities that are a trigger for me. I let her go play at his house last night since his mom was nice enough to drop by and ask her over. When they returned her, however, there was talk of his birthday party-the same weekend we have planned Spook’s party. Then he really crossed a line with me and said, “What are you getting me? Is it electronics? Video games? It better not be books or something cheap.” And his mom just stood there, not saying a word, not even looking horrified. Spook tried to explain that we don’t have much money but for a kid with 3 ipads, a $100 Minecraft Fathead wall mural, a 50 inch TV, every gaming system, et al…Our money problems mean nothing to him. And I noted when Spook said her birthday was right around that time, he didn’t offer her any fancy gifts. And again, this seemingly relaxed nice well off mom just stood there, allowing him to be so demanding, rude, and disrespectful.

I am triggered. I spent 2 hours seething last night because I can’t compete with this family’s financial means. Nor will I compete with their materialistic ‘buy the kid all the stuff’ mentality. He got an Alexa, now my kid wants one. I am not keen on artificial intelligence invading my network, it’s too easily hacked, it stores too much personal info on the user, and she’s just not mature enough for this device. I pondered one for myself until I saw all the security risks, the danger of kids giving away too much info inadvertently and it being collected, and I was just like…NOPE. Now this kid has her wanting one and she’s manipulating me saying, “You say I ask too many questions, I could just ask Alexa.” Then she would give out her personal info, when we are home or gone, all the possessions we own, and it could lead to burglary and…

I sound like a nutter, don’t I? I guess when you’ve had one break in where TVs and computers were stolen, you become a little paranoid and wary. We never got our stuff back. The cops barely cared to take a report. It was 6 years ago and I still have issues trusting the house to be unlocked even with us here. In Podunk. I’d say the burglary burned new neural pathways for me and made me even more untrusting. But I hear horror stories about people posting or submitting too much info to these AI devices and it leads to bad things, so am I so wrong wanting to keep that out of our home and protect my child and peace of mind?

The scorching heat is not helping my mental state. I took one melatonin last night and after the stress of her ‘gimme gimme’ friend and her litany of all the expensive stuff he has so his parents must REALLY love him…I was tapped out and I slept, hard. With nightmares and anxiety cos this kid is always asking to come into our house but the first time I allowed him to, he did nothing but complain and touch my stuff without permission and he fussed and…ARGHHH. I know I can’t pick her friends for her, but damn it, do I have to tolerate someone who triggers the very mental disorders leading to all my distorted thoughts? Can’t I just hold him at bay until my mental state is better? And this is not just him, I’ve been weird about people being in the house for months now because they took my Xanax and my meds are so effed up. And if I say no, my kid will hate me, and she wants to know why I don’t like this kid, and I have tried to explain that he has no boundaries and all he does is make her feel bad for not having all the stuff he has…Which makes me feel like bad. And here I was thinking, wow, for a poor kid, this child has tablets, computers, smart TV’s, she’s not exactly living in deprived squalor.

It only takes one person to make you realize how subpar you are but I refuse to stoop to that level. No kid needs 3 ipads. No kid should EVER tell you what you better buy him and not buy him for his birthday. He may have issues but rudeness is a choice and that his mom was okay with it…I don’t see things improving.

In addition to this stress, one of the day camp counselors pulled me aside yesterday at pick up and told me how moody and easily upset Spook is and he wanted to know if there are things going on at home, et al. I told him we’re not sure if it’s hormonal or ADHD or mood disorder but she does have an appointment this month. Plus, moving to Armpit has been tough on her. And she does have mega issues getting along with more than one or two friends at a time, which is a battle I’ve faced myself. The minute I got her home, she calmed, she was happier. The counselor said she takes things so hard she acts like a 40 year old. I am constantly telling her she acts like a 2 year old because she has fits over food, over being told to brush her hair and teeth, over being told no, you can;t lay out in the middle of the road…

All of this on top of my own struggles with personal situational stress, mental health issues, money, et al.

I’m tough but all of it is wearing me down fast. And my support system is um…non existent. “Take a nerve pill.” “Get over it, you have a kid, you don’t get to be depressed.”

That I am not a serial killer is a fucking miracle. Life has pushed me to the breaking point and them some.

So while I know it does no good trying to get y’all to interact with me…Any advice? Anyone? (Crickets.) I could really use some encouragement and support and coping mechanisms. Because I know part of it isn’t this friend of hers, it’s my own inferiority complex. But how do I stick to my guns not wanting to spoil my ungrateful non chore doing kid just so she can keep up with the mini Joneses?

Help? Anyone?

I Feel Like A Fraud

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , on May 6, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

No, I have not committed any crimes. I am, perhaps to a fault, too genuine when it comes to not quashing my personality, big as it may be, just so others with smaller personalities are put at ease, so nothing fraudulent there. Yet, here I am, feeling ‘better’ after months of barely functioning, and because we need money and I HAVE to find work and sooner rather than later…people seem to think I am all better and was never disabled to begin with, just lazy. They also seem to think that I am being manipulative or self pitying when I mention how pretty much everyone-even hardcore antisocial gun nut potheads- are being hired for jobs and I am getting nothing but rejection. It’s a fact. It is very damaging to the self esteem when ONE POOR CHOICE MADE ALMOST 20 YEARS AGO WHICH YOU HAVE COMPLETELY LEGALLY ATONED FOR STILL PREVENTS YOU FROM GETTING EMPLOYMENT. Rather than pity myself, I actually find it infuriating and wish I knew what channels to go through to create a petition and lobby this state’s lawmakers so people like me aren’t left out in the cold this way when it comes to earning a living.

But much as I am doing better-ish and trying to put my best face forward and be better…I still feel like a fraud. Because I am not stable. I am not sleeping much or well. My meds are not solid. My psych provider is a shit show. 80% of my big stress stems from living so close to my dad here in Armpitopia and I then get filled with self loathing cos hey, no one can make you feel inferior unless you give them permission…which is a crock. Family can make you feel inferior for drawing breath. Not everyone has the loving supportive cohesive family thing going on. Some of us got stuck with icky parents whose only joy in life seems to be in putting us down and nagging us to the point of no self esteem and just wanting to die.

I. feel. like. a. fraud.

I saw R was at his shop today and stopped in since I had 20 minutes before the wedding shower. Filled him in on how everyone is working but me. (No, that was not me crawling back to him, he got someone who helps the shop run more efficiently than I did, and I am cool with it, I don’t want to go backwards.) He asked if I got those jobs I applied for and I told him no go without the state waiver. AND I CAN’T EVEN GET THE CHARACTER REFERENCE LETTERS NEEDED FOR THE STATE AND THE JUDGE TO GET THIS SHIT IN MOTION. I knew it was gonna be a pain since everyone I know considers reading and writing punishment. I am at their mercy and it sucks. I wasn’t entirely shocked to find out in spite of having had a heart attack, he’s still smoking and drinking. And in spite of having a good job with benefits on his and wife’s side, he is missing a front tooth and can’t pay three grand out of pocket then wait for reimbursement to fix it. WHAT IS THE POINT OF INSURANCE IF PEOPLE CAN’T EVEN USE IT???? I kinda felt bad for him even if technically he has it way better than me.

He complained that the family won’t allow him to discuss politics. But they spent all last night talking baseball teams and it resulted in an ugly scene and the grown kids and grandkids were MIA from his house come morning. Same shit, different year. He even texted toward evening wanting to come over here and talk and it’s like no, I got one night to finish mowing the lawn before the next monsoon wave and the place is a mess inside and I’m just…not in the mood. And since I am no longer beholden to him by being his shop wench and working towards a car…I get to have a spine and say nope, not a good night. And he can no longer guilt trip me.

But this whole “I’m looking for work” thing just…it feels fraudulent. Because beyond ten hours a week, I don’t think I am *there* yet in terms of stability. Yet I have no choice but to try to convince myself, and others, that I am doing great. The world only wants you to be honest if it doesn’t impact them negatively and if I am anything but stable, willing and able to work, and in control of my mental illnesses, then the rats abandon ship.

The bridal shower was an awkward event. I knew right away it was gonna be grueling cos they had a scentsy wax thing going and it was some sort of coffee bean smell that made me feel like gagging. Aside from my mom, my sis, her friend M, my kid, and the bride to be, I knew no one there. And instead of panicking and going into inferiority complex meltdown…I decided to just be myself, even with my off color humor. I did watch my language, for the most part, but some of these young women had all the personality and signs of life as a corpse. I guess my big personality and neverending snarks and jokes might be too much for them to take in. Frankly, if I had personality zero, I’d find that harder to take than someone who’s kind of ‘larger than life’. My sister thanked me for going and said my humor really broke the ice and made at least our side of the family faction feel more at ease. That’s good cos the bride to be’s money spending nanna sat beside me giving me the stink eye any time I dared to speak. One point, I turned in my chair so my shoulder was toward her cos I don’t need the judgement.

Spook and I came home. I have mowed everything but the front ditch and my leg muscles are aching.

Oh, and awesomeness here-the crap ass fridge we got last year secondhand has busted door seals so it wasn’t quite shut top or bottom since this morning around 6-ish…So now our food for the next 10 days is either ruined or too suspect to be trusted so I am gonna have to go to town tomorrow and apply for the food bank assistance. At least the ice cubes and popsicles will refreeze. I hope. I can’t catch a bloody break here in any fashion and it’s really tearing me down.

Now I need supper but since I can’t buy Pepcid, food results in mid night reflux of agony so then again, I may not bother to eat. Sometimes a growling empty belly is better than a chest full of acid reflux that goes for hours.

I’m doing better-ish. I wish I was doing wondermously and all cured or stabilized but…

I’m still a hot mess and a train wreck with a plane crash in the middle. The people around me don’t wanna know, they want the fraudulent version of me as being all better and normal and…

I find it hard to live with myself in good conscience knowing full well that it’s 85% a front designed one, cos I gotta support my kid, and two, because others expect it so they aren’t made uncomfortable by my issues.

I don’t like feeling like a fraud and I resent a world where this is not just acceptable, but seemingly preferred by others.

So much for just being true to who you are.


Oh, I am to remind of fundraiser as she broke her tablet and I sure as hell ain’t letting her use mine. She’s on her third tablet cos she is a bull in a china shop. I may let her use the circa 2001 Dell laptop at some point but til then…I will promote her cause.


Spew Stew

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , , on March 22, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Cogent communication is just not gonna happen today so stew it is.

I slept last night. FINALLY. I think I woke once, but went right back to sleep. It wasn’t accomplished by the 20mg of melatonin I took. After three hours of waiting for it to kick in, I got desperate and two 2mg from the xanax stash. It did its job beautifully. THIS is why I rail against the benzo dictator and the center’s arbitrary policies. It’s punitive to me and impacts my personal functionality and quality of life. If 2mg of xanax at bedtime with some melatonin gets me some quality sleep, I don’t see any negative there other than their fear of being sued should I go opiod addicted on the stuff. Now that I am rationing, though, I can’t resort to what works very often or I won’t have my emergency stash for when things are truly awful. Hopefully the Atarax,benadryl, and melatonin with B6 will suffice. I finally managed to get my refill and Dollar Tree got the melatonin back in. Had to borrow money from my stepmonster and brother, but I figure I will make it up with dog walking services at some point. But it took me days of waffling to even dare to ask for the $5 I needed. In the end, I swallowed pride because not having anything that works adequately seemed more damaging than toughing it out and having my pride.

My dad gave my kid some money to go to the local indoor yard sale the lady has going on this weekend. I stopped in to look around once I got moving this morning and..This is how I know I am simply not in my right mind. I didn’t go bonkers, even envious “Oh, I wish I could afford this, and that…” I felt social anxiety to the nth even though there were maybe 10 people wandering this huge old building. The only items that I’ve wanted for a long time and can’t get are these brand new black lights, five bucks a pop, still taped in the package. I’ve been wanting to replace my old ones forever but they’re too damn expensive. Now I find a great deal and no dice but instead of being bummed out…I walked out without even spending a quarter on myself. And I wasn’t even sad about it because I was just sad and low to begin with. That is usually my happy place, even when I am broke. The seasonal depression did not suddenly lift with the change to spring, unfortunately.

After being too exhausted and anxious all week to venture into town for groceries, I forced myself to go today. I wasn’t 5 minutes out of town on the interstate when someone pulled right out in front of me from a back road and I was cussing cos had my reflexes been a second slower, I’d have hit them, they turned so abruptly. In town I could barely keep my eyes on the road cos I was distracted by all the vehicles behind me and had this bad juju feeling one of them was gonna smash into me, which kind of made it more likely I’d hit someone in front of me since I was so preoccupied looking back. THIS level of paranoia, fear, and irrational thought are the direct result of lowering my Xanax. Much as that stuff is calming for panic attacks, it is also ‘sane making’ for me as it renders me rational. Not that the professionals believe that because that isn’t how it works for ten million others. I am so sick of not being viewed as an individual. I made my stops, fetched what needed to be, and headed right back home. While I don’t much care for Armpit simply because it is so isolated and rural and country…this is where my safe space is now and when I am on hyperdrive with anxiety and paranoia…safe space is more important than location.

Safe, but not peaceful. The farm fiends already have all their heavy noisy machinery out and they refuse to go around the truck route so they use the streets and that means I have to park out back of the house so they don’t smash my car with their road hogging farm implements that look like torture devices. And Armpit just lets them use the main streets, it’s the accepted norm. My kid dared mention how annoying it was when their bus got behind a slow moving tractor and the local yokel kids yelled at her that it was normal and they belonged on the road. Perfect example of where geographical location and local views outweigh basic intelligence and common sense. Farm machinery does not belong driving down city streets, on the highway, and sure as hell not on the interstate. Stick it on a flatbed or trailer and haul it to your farm area, ffs. Ugh, the rural midwest. Much as I agree with some ways of life here, mostly I just find it limiting and narrow. Like the fact there is no diversity whereas in town my daughter went to school with french Haitan children, a couple of Asian kids, some latino and hispanic kids, and of course, black kids. Here…lily white is putting it mildly. And I fear the longer she is in this area she will adapt the mindset and start thinking rural white people are the only people. I cringe at the thought. It was how I grew up and it always made me feel sheltered, limited, and may well be why I became so open to stuff other than my comfort zone. Not to thrive on being different or weird, but because I wanted to learn about more than my corner of the world.

I thought getting out and moving would warm me up. I am still freezing now that I’ve worked off the minor sweat of sitting in a well heated car then packing in a bunch of stuff by myself. I keep telling myself I am gonna do the dab of dishes in the sink, vacuum, switch the wet clothes to the dryer…but I am not feeling it today, in spite of getting proper rest. Possibly because I feel like that sleep was ‘ill gotten’ since I went against my current prescription dose and it feeds right into their ignorant ‘abuse and overuse’ mentality. Man, you’d think I drank a fifth of whiskey and smoked a pound of weed, as guilty as it makes me feel. No one should feel this bad for simply using what works, and what was, until the new retime, prescribed. This once again confirms my fear of change and new things to be accurate. Guilt impacts mood, mood impacts anxiety, it’s a vicious fucking cycle.

Just the fact that a yard sale didn’t immediately boost my mood and it had nothing to do with not being able to buy stuff, the desire just isn’t there…That’s how I know my depression is the real deal. Selective depression only impacts things you dislike, like work, chores, social obligations…When the very thing that has made you happiest since you were 5 years old doesn’t pep you up, that is clinical depression.

In the car I was station surfing and an old Poison song was playing. That actually cheered me up. I miss when music was fun and edgy without being too bubblegummy or too dark. I need to get back to letting music make me happy, it was what worked for 35 years. After I became a single mom, though, the anxiety skyrocketed and the additional noise, even pleasant noise, became more grueling than pleasant. So much as hearing an oldie but goodie by one of my favorite bands cheered me up, it also brought me down because it does cause me more anxiety than I can tolerate as well. Now that I am without my xanax net, it’s even worse. Instead of progressing and becoming better, the new regime has me on the path to agoraphobia and less ability to enjoy life.

So much for that first do no harm thing.

50 Shades Of Cray

Posted in depression with tags , , , , , , , on January 23, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Normally, I am opposed to the way my daughter’s generation turns words into barely coherent verbal shorthand. Are we really so lazy as a societ that we can’t spare the energy to finish a word-cra-zy,va-ca-taion,etc. But much as I am to teach her as a parent, I think there’s some stuff I can learn from her, as well. Mainly, to stop getting bent over stupid shit because the only person who is miffed seems to be me and I am only getting myself all ‘aggro’.

My 9 year old, a perfectly normal outgoing kid, got two thumbs up replies to some random youtube comment she left a fellow Minecraft fan and she was shrieking and jumping and just…giddy with excitement, like she’d won an Oscar. And I’m just so damn jaded and disturbed that I failed to grasp why she found that so exciting. I mean…Here comes the fifty shades of cray…

What if the thumbs up was in sarcasm or mockery?

I am damaged goods, obviously. I picked up 5 new followers today alone and rather than think, wow, that’s awesome, people are reading my spewage…my first thought was, “Oh, some autobot is probably signing up random fake accounts”. Followed by, “Oh, crap, did I say something inadvertently controversial so I am getting troll traffic and about to get cyber mobbed?”

To fully understand why my thinking would automatically go to suspicion and paranoia, however, you have to have some of my backstory. Not that it’s remarkable or anything, but I was one of the unfortunate bullied kids for 7 years of school. I was called awful names, had my pants pulled down to my ankles, I was spit on, offered money ‘cos you look like a whore’,I eventually quit just to escape the daily attacks and terror. I’ve never regretted it. I went on to get a GED and I wasn’t a teen suicide statistic, so I saw it as winner winner, chicken dinner. And while it left marks on my psyche, as I hit my thirties, now over my mid forties, I have become less salty about my tormentors because now I know…kids are essentially monsters without a conscience. Especially vile teenagers. No doubt had I worked to ‘blend in’ to my rural surroundings rather than being true to my own heavy metal leanings and fashion, life might have gone easier for me. Then again, there’s always one kid that gets singled out and nothing they do ever changes that fact, I guess that was me. I never had to live with being a fake or betraying myself, at least.

To this day, teenagers make me unseasy. I view them as rattlesnnakes. Beautiful but frightening creatures capable of delivering a death blow.

I’d like to say my personal small motley crew of friends made it easier but the fact is, I only ever really had two good friends. The others made it clear they hung out with me in pity or they were too embarrassed to hang out with the girl getting spit on but they’d see me outside of school…There were times even the people who proclaimed to be friends were my tormentors, doing stuff to fit in by torturing me. My family wasn’t very supportive. My mom told me to tell em to go to hell, my dad said knock em in the mouth then in the next breath they were both saying, no, don’t, you’ll get kicked out…

Come to look back, how did I manage to get out of that minefield of home and school and family and frenemies? But it certainly explains why even 30 some years later, my first instincts are discomfort, suspicion, fear, paranoia. Because nothing good ever came out of being singled out when I was a teenager and in today’s polarized socio-political climate, it’s not a good thing, either, for most of us. Usually the sociopaths and psychopaths do quite well but if you have a conscience, you’re pretty much screwed.

Counselors have told me this is some sort of personality disorder, being so mistrusting and quick to panic and paranoia. Funny, it doees’t feel like my personality is causing the panic attacks and viscerally agonizing responses. That would be my mind and body, flooded with too much sensory overload and a lifetime of learning the hard way that naivete costs too much. I try to see the good in people, but if all those years of abuse hardwired me to perceive everything in a fight or flight manner, well, 35 years of therapy hasn’t managed to fix it. And if being self protective and wary keep me from going off the deep end, then I should be commended for it rather than have it deemed dysfunction.

That being said, the more you try to convince the professionals that you’re ‘not’ ‘this label’, the more they believe that you are paranoia, borderline, antisocial, schizotypal,etc. And the fact they don’t factor in history that brought about these disorders does a disservice to patients. If you’ve been bitten by a dog half a dozen times, is it really insane that you would become less a fan of dogs and more frightened and wary of them? Yet if it’s people you are phobic of, even with good cause, that’s just crazy.

Well, color me fifty shades of cray.

But I think I am gonna take a page out of my kid’s playbook and start at least TRYING to work through my knee jerk paranoia and wariness and ponder the possibility that there’s no prank around the corner, no other shoe about to drop, no one out to malign me, harass me, or embarrass me.

I envy her zest for life and the joy she finds in such simple things. I am supposed to be her role model but it kind of works both ways sometimes.

Anxiety Disorders Mean Living Life in Perpetual State of Trepidation

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

Wow, that title kind of sucks. Oh, well, it’s true. I could dumb it down, make it click bait-y but then I wouldn’t be me. I zig when told to zag. I was actually reading up on how to increase blog traffic and ya know what? Ermagod, so many rules and so much consistency required, too much bloody work. Besides, I’ve seen what the masses consider acceptable and cool and I don’t want to be in that club, anyway. I guess mostly I want to shine a line on mental health struggles and be recognized for my unique effed up style of incoherent writing. I’m not about popularity, just getting my story out there so others feel less alone and trapped. Having done the research, it seems having a successful blog is like having a job and I lack the most important quality-consistency. I can’t ‘schedule’ my feelings, for fuck’s suck. I can’t stay on topic, I can’t stop swearing, I can’t do any of that click bait-y popular blog stuff. I wish I could but ya know what? 7 years, over 1000 followers, and I only ever sent my link to one person. The rest came naturally over time when I interacted with others’ blogs. It helps weed out trolls to not go full social media with this stuff. WordPress is a safe haven, think I want it to stay that way. Languish in obscurity or flourish in pomposity…I choose to languish.

We,as previously mentioned, are facing another ass kicking winter storm this weekend so I need to get my ass into town and get groceries in the event we get snowed or iced in. Yet the prospect of this task has my gut in knots. I am becoming agoraphobic again, just like the last time they yanked me off my working Xanax protocol. (Anyone sick of hearing about this topic? Cos I am sick of writing anout it and yet I was awake at 2 a.m., in a full blown panic-rage state, thinking how screwed I am under this current regime. This impacts me negatively on multiple levels, difficult not to harp on it.) I was so rattled yesterday I told my kid she couldn’t play with the neighbor kid but damn it, they always have to play at my house and I have to listen to them bickering and screeching and my nerves aren’t handling it well. She asked what she did wrong and I said nothing, my anxiety was just running high, to which she said, “You always are!” That felt like a snap to the face, but she isn’t wrong. I have devolved so much in the last couple of weeks and it is impacting my mental state further because I feel so damned helpless. I have a lawyer, yet he won’t lift a finger to help me get child support or have the donor held accountable. I have a psych nurse who doesn’t have the authority to oversee my med doses without some dictator overlord quashing it for every patient. I am willing to work but I can’t convince anyone I am stable enough because I am not, I am clearly a train wreck. I feel so damned powerless and impotent and frustrated on every level.

It’s bad enough to live in perpetual fight or flight mode due to anxiety disorders. But when it is basically mandated that you live this way by your own psych care provider and they have no empathy for you…Trepidation is all I know. I live in dread and fear daily now. I also have excrutiating social anxiety so simply going out for groceries is an experience of great discomfort for me. Now it’s terrifying.

Well, fuck me, some dude raised over three grand on gofundme to attend a bachelor party for a guy he doesn’t even know yet people make me feel shitty for raising what amounts to $210 a month for four months and 80% of it went to the heat/power bill???? What the fuck is wrong with people? Seriously, a single mom trying to take care of her kid when every aspect of life is against her, and it’s not even important as a bachelor party trip?????? This world has gone bloody insane with its priorities. Difference is, this guy did the fundraiser with no qualms and posted himself smiling and packing his bags. I feel shitty every time I’ve had to reach out for help for the most basic of things. I am crushed under the guilt sometimes.

Oh, the tv is babbling about vaping again. My sister got one of those rigs and it looks like a pot pipe to me. Not attractive. I will stick to my discontinued Mark Ten e-cig. No nicotine but I get the gesture of smoking so it fools my just enough to survive til I can bum a real one from time to time. No, kids shouldn’t be vaping. But hey, guess what? My mom started smoking when she was 11, then quit in her fifties, so the cycle has been there all along. This is not new.And what the fuck are we telling kids when we legalize pot for recreation yet tell them water vapor and nicotine are evil? Shouldn’t it all be lumped together as a bad habit no one needs?

Ugh. I am very close to a melt down. Very close to burning what few bridges are left. I am tired of pretzel gut. I am tired of nervous waves constantly in my belly. Tired of feeling unsafe and scared inside, let alone when I have to go into the petri dish. I was even trying to raise money to get a better psych doc but hey, maybe I should just say it’s for my nephew’s wedding in May where my kid is going to be flower girl and I can’t afford to buy her a bloody dress for it.

I thought if I let myself be hobbled yesterday by depression and anxiety I would feel stronger today and be able to face down the task of going to town. BUt then I hadn’t anticipated being awake for three hours in the middle of the night, battling back panic and anxiety and anger and frustration over this psych nurse deal. Not getting proper sleep takes a toll. I am about to go off my secondary antidepressant and ask for Trazadone. It doesn’t do a thing for my depression but it makes me sleep. or it used to, I don’t know if it would these days. And I don’t like the hangovers. Guess I am stuck riding it out with Celexa but the thought of 6 glorious uninterrupted hours of sleep from a coma drug…sounds pretty tempting.

I am going to have to start my day with a Xanax if I am ever to get to town and do what needs to be done. I am sure once seasonal affective ends and the weather changes it won’t be this awful but for now, it is this awful and it sucks. Because I will still be stuck with a psych nurse who can’t actually control my medication amounts so I will just be on a hamster wheel going nowhere and exhausting myself getting there.

People-ing Is Bad For My Mental Health

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , on June 28, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

So, yeah, Webster’s probably won’t be adding the term ‘people-ing’ as a verb any time soon, but I am so sick of using the word ‘socializing’, I need a new term for human interaction. Besides, my aversion to human interaction has little to do with disliking people and everything to do with how easily overwhelmed I am with motion, colors, sounds, and of course, the expectation to behave a certain way that is ‘acceptable’. Which is likely why I am so comfortable on the internet (to an extent, I still can’t seem to bring myself to do forums or chat). I can control my interaction, my intake of stimuli, and I never have to beg out and escape or hint that it’s time for someone to go lest I start panicking and screaming curse words in said panic. When everything overwhelms you, this semblance of control becomes crucial. Maybe the professionals deem it a disorder or avoidance behavior but um…I’ve learned the professionals are wrong about 80% of mental health issues because they are so focused on their books and ‘the norm’, they forget…we’re all inviduals, unique in our experiences and brain chemistry so what might be unhealthy avoidance for one person may just be what someone like me needs.

I’ve been struggling with free floating anxiety since moving to Armpit and mostly, I thought it was living in proximity to my dad’s factiion and the incessant unannounced annoying drop ins by my brother. Then there was a knock at the door today, two kids wanting to hang with Spook, and it hit me…The anxiety skyrocketed even then because…people-ing. I may have minimal interaction with these kids but then again, the minute they start bickering, I have to engage and be the bad guy and frankly, it sucks. People-ing, not my forte. I doubt it would be a big deal were I in a good mental space. But alas, I’m not *there* yet. Anxiety quickly steamrolls me to panic which is when I start feeling like I’m playing Frogger only I am the bloody frog. (In case anyone wonders, I am NOT British, but I’ve taken to using the word ‘bloody’ because honestly, my go to is ‘fuck’ and it’s probably not something to be teaching kids, they’ll learn it by 5th grade.) Being vulnerable, or feeling that way, just sends me into a tailspin.

But kids are noise and noise sets me off so it’s just something I have to deal with. To me, it makes perfect sense that I’d avoid circuit overload by limiting my own interaction with others. Besides which, so few people understand mental health issues here and it’s the ‘get over it’ sheeple thinking, so there’s little desire for me to go there. If I want bullied, I can do it myself or call my family. I know based on past experience, I will eventually be in a space, albeit briefly, where I may seek out people-ing. But then again, I base a lot of that on a safe space to live in, which Armpit, near my dad, is not, and also, so much noise overload by my kid and her friends, I just feel like I have little left to give, especially to people who don’t understand I am trying my hardest here to live with my disorders and overcome them. Not gonna give me an E for effort, I’m not gonna give you what little mental resources I have left. Simple as that.

So between the trip to town the other day, stores, traffic, my brother’s constant pop ins, and my kid’s active social life, not to mention her projectile vomiting 6 times last night all over the couch, bed, bedding, stuffed animals, and the wall resulting in great worry (tummy ache and spew could be appendix rupturing, PANIC!)…People-ing is what does me in. Internet interaction keeps me ‘connected’ to others via a wireless or corded tether and meets my needs right now as it has for many, many years. As my kid gets older and less needy (I pray to the pegacorn gods), maybe I will be less overwhelmed and more into people-ing.

Until then…my internet tether is just fine with me.

Unless this net neutrality repeal thing isn’t killed off, then I’m likely gonna be forced to pay for sites like wordpress and will be subjected to whatever political affiliations my provider believes in without access to opposite information.

The horror! I might be forced to start people-ing with the yokels. And I simply don’t subscribe to the church of denim and flannel and tractors.

And I’m also not big on the mentalithy-spearheaded by my own father- that people with mental issues on disability are just lazy leaches.

Ignorance is toxic and I avoid toxic people best I can. In his case, law should require him to be slapped with a ‘biohazard’ symbol for his views on mental health. Him and a few million others…