Archive for social anxiety

Not A Cute Kind Of Sloth

Posted in anxiety, bipolar depression, depression with tags , , , , , , , , on January 3, 2020 by morgueticiaatoms

Day 3 of saying fuck it and being slothful. And not the adorable looking sloths, just…ick sloth. Sluggish, slow. Whatever fire I had inside of me to get through the chaos of December and the holidays…has been extinguished. I think it is just the winter depression combined with being emotionally tapped out and mentally frustrated. The doctor increased my Cymbalta but did not send it to the pharmacy so now I am in a holding pattern on that while the pharmacy faxes his office and waits…I don’t understand how they fuck up electronic scripts so much. Man, I miss the days of just being handed a paper script. Because then I didn’t have to make multiple trips to the pharmacy cos they forgot to electronically send something.

Further adding to my icky feelings is the fact that while I Trazadoned up and slept pretty well last night…I slept until 10:30 a.m. Originally I had set the alarm for 8 a.m., fully planning to get cleaned up, go into town to pay rent…but then I said fuck it and went back to sleep because until that script is ready, I’d end up having to make two trips to town as opposed to waiting and making just one. I always feel icky when my rent isn’t paid by the 1rst but I know the landlord won’t say a word about it. It bothers me, though. I am queen of inconsistency so what little consistency I can maintain by paying rent regularly and taking care of Spook, it matters to me.

My mom went to the ER yesterday. She has pneumonia and her insurance keeps declining the $100 antibiotic she needs to start getting better. I am so fed up with doctors and hospital and pharma companies charging arms and legs and being completely unreasonable. Because of some insurance assclown, my kid can’t have the medication that works so well, she actually wants to take it. I am all for going with the cheaper option IF it is effective as the expensive med. But Concerta was the one that worked best and they won’t cover it. What is the point of insurance?

Adding to my aggravation, a $15 package of ground beef spoiled in the fridge because my kid shoved things around, tore the plastic, then didn’t shut the door entirely and I noticed she’s been messing with the temperature knobs, so who knows what will go next. I needed that hamburger, damn it. That was 3 weeks worth of meal plans, out the window, and I can’t afford to replace it. Wasting food makes me feel like a shitty human being even if does happen.

Think I am going PMDD hormonal cos I am having a plethora of fleeting but overwhelming emotions. One minute something makes me tear up, one minute something pisses me off, then I am glassy eyed and smiling and filled with warm fuzzies…And then back to Fort Blankie sloth mode. I have GOT to dig myself out of whatever this mental phase is but deep down…I know the only thing that will truly elevate my mental state will be the start of spring. Winter just flips a switch in my head and all the gray and gloom and cold and snow and ice drags me under more. Right now we are having 40’s during the day, high 20’s at night and it’s been dry but gloomy for days. I don’t think I would fare any better in a different climate, like a warm one where the season changes are barely noticable. I do occasionally love a snowy night, curled up with hot cocoa or soup under a blankie. The ONLY good thing I can say about winter is, at least I don’t have to mow this mammoth yard for 5 months.

I swear there is something inside of me trying to claw its way out. I do not want to feel these depressive feelings. I do not want to be a lazy slothful person. I WANT to get out of my own head and start LIVING life. But my brain needs to cooperate for that to happen.

It’s so bizarre how the entire world can wrap their head around appliances not working right or at all when even one little part is failing. “Yep, transmission’s out, car won’t run.”

BUT when it comes to mental health issues and our brain is basically the transmission needed to make the car go…People just do not get it at all. And that’s sad because without a working brain, we are considered braindead even if our systems are kept alive and no one is at the bedside cussing them out, “Get up and LIVE, you lazy bum! You can snap out of this!”

Mental health issues…Little empathy, zero compassion, nothing but judgment and criticisms.

One would think a misfiring brain causing systems to shut down would be the easiest thing to grasp. Our whole body depends on our brain to operate it. If yours is on the fritz and sending out the wrong information about how you are feeling and what you are thinking…I fail to see how the concept is too out there to be grasped.

I am just waiting til some dumbfuck in the powers that be system decides those with mental health issues aren’t worthy of living and create a ‘cash for human clunkers’ program.

Bounce Back…Sorta

Posted in anxiety, bipolar depression, depression with tags , , , , , , , on November 15, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

After yesterday’s grief ridden post, I got a text from a friend wanting to come over last night. Idk, I don’t much feel like socializing but then again, I so rarely get the opportunity for conversation with others than my kid, cats, and toxic family…I said yes, which gave me something to both stress about and look forward to. I boiled water so I could take a half ass bath and at least have clean hair and not reek. I boiled more water and did a pile of dishes I’d been neglecting. I swept and mopped the kitchen floor. I used the hell machine to vac the carpets. I cleaned the litter box. I buried my poor departed Pasha kitten and made him a grave marker. I did a load of laundry and hung it off curtain rods by heat registers in hopes it would dry properly that way. I gathered up all the trash out back so it’d be ready to my dad to pick it up. I got a lot accomplished, including a few episodes of True Blood. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to do any of it. I wanted to stay in bed and just feel sad, because…loss and grief are due a mourning process and I was very attached to Pasha.’

Guess the prospect of someone being in my home and judging me for even a mild state of disarray-reminding me once again how easily it all gets out of control…It kicked me into gear. I even made Sloppy Joes for supper, not that my kid appreciated a warm meal. Nope, she just wants chicken nuggets and strips and pizza rolls nuked in the microwave so I guess I cooked more for me. Because I do have that thing where I forget to feed myself for a day or two and like the shrink said, I need to start eating a little more properly if it will raise my blood pressure enough so I don’t feel cold all the time.

My kid came home and practiced her saxophone, they have a band concert next week. Talk about excrutiating to my sensitive noise issues. She practiced a whole 30 minutes then said her mouth hurt and it was cutting into her tablet time. Her dedication us underwhelming. But she is just starting so even if I want to wear noise canceling headphones (don’t own any, sadly), I am trying to be supportive and encouraging and compliment her on the effort to learn. I am (irrationally) irked about how widespread our dire financial circumstances are that everyone at the school knows about it. The band teacher offered to try and find a family we could car pool with or she could come get is herself and that is very nice. I can’t help but feel shitty about it, though. To not even have $20 to get gas and our med refills is pretty humiliating.

I looked into some work from home jobs from Indeed but I was doomed from the go because I don’t have the powerful computers required (nor reliable internet service) to even be considered. This laptop I am using has no mic or webcam or fancy software. I thought maybe if I could find a low stress safe zone the shrink might sign off on it for a few hours a week. I was so boosted to see legit postions until I saw their tech requirements. Apparently a 7 year old freebie laptop with half the functioning stuff not functioning ain’t gonna cut it. As if I stood a chance, anyway. And that is not negativity, it is based on the fact that even if I had the proper tech gear, I don’t have the education or background experience.

My kid was up, dressed, and cleaning her room at 6 a.m. I was battling lethary and since she was up and ready to go, I did something I never do. I stayed in bed til 7:20. And forgot to give her her pill (mom of the year). So far I have put on clean clothes, put some clean clothes away, and said a prayer that when R came over last night, he got our hot water fixed again. Now if I can just get stepmonster to install the kitchen faucet, we should be all set. Except for the fact that my bedroom has zero heat coming into it, think the bloody outdoor cats got down in the basement and fucked up the vent lines. Not like it matters, I am always cold, anyway. If I am not having hot flashes.

I need to go to town to turn in the heating assistance paperwork they have to have but…another trip to town, with only about 50 miles worth of gas left in the tank (it takes a gallon and half for every trip to town and each trip is 30 miles there and back) so I am gonna have to, ugh, see if dad can help me get gas in the car. Unlikely. I know if my mom had it she would give it to me, but alas, she does not have it. It amazes me how some people can go to multiple churches or whatever and get ten kinds of help but because I live in Bumfuck, there aren’t helpful organizations aplenty. Which is hilarious. Only thing Bumfuck has more of than bars and fast food is churches. And please do not mistake me for lazy or a whiner or looking for handouts constantly. The donor flaking out on the child support cut our income by almost $300 and that takes a toll. Til then we were managing okay. Leave it to him to ALWAYS flake out on support right around Christmas, seems to be his pattern. And he doesn’t even mail her a gift, not once in 8 years since he left. It breaks my heart because it Spook and there is just nothing I can do about it. The man is…useless. I try to tell her he loves her in his own way, much as he is able to considering his own upbringing by a drunken abusive father, bully siblings, and a dead father. If ay of that is true. He has some serious mommy/women issues, for sure. Abandoning 3 kids and yet he thinks he is well adjusted and a good man…Talk about denial and delusion.

But for today I may be crampy and listless but I am up and half ass functioning. That counts for something. And other than the mountain of laundry my daughter had stashed in her room, I am caught up on the housework. We have hot water and heat. Soon a working kitchen faucet. Gratitude for the small things. And the bracelet I found from months ago that is inscribed inside with ‘your anxiety is lying to you’. Now I just need one that says “depression is not your fault, your feelings matter”. Maybe if I look at it daily I will start to believe it and be able to blow off all the unsupportive toxic naysayers.

Maybe if I can get my mind out of the depressive/anxiety gutter I can seek out some sort of support group, an outlet or whatever. I want that so bad but I am just not ready. Yet. I am getting there. Slowly. Oh so sloooowly.

Baby steps.

Hell In A Skin Suit

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , on November 11, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Yet again, a reference from television that sparks resonance in me. “Hell In A Skin Suit” was used to describe the struggle some have with the inner chaos of their own mind. I like it. It makes me think of Supernatural or Men In Black where shapeshifters wear ‘meat suits’ or whatever. That gives me a brief smile. Until I realize the validity of the term to describe mental health struggles.

Today I am in PMDD pain hell, not even an ibuprofen/Tylenol mix is helping. My kid decided she was sick this morning- then made a miraculous recovery in like ten minutes. I think she just didn’t want to attend the Veteran’s Day program the school is putting on as I write this. Stage fright or something. But it is the first day she has missed this year so I am not gonna sweat it too much. Though it does make me wonder how band is going to work out for her, if she is afraid to simply stand on a stage with three other grades and sing along to words she’s had to recite for three years now.

My dad called to ask about going to the program since he is a veteran then started cussing when I told him she wasn’t feeling well and I thought maybe she had a nervous tummy. (Tummy induced toilet issues are NOT funny or something you ‘snap out of’, believe me.) I don’t know why he thinks how I raise my kid is his business. He told me not to let her start doing it all the time and it’s like, ffs, she hasn’t missed a single day since September til now. And for all I know, she could have inherited my seasonal affective disorder, which on a cold rainy, snowy day really does impact you mentally and physically. He and stepmonster tend to idealize their own upbringings with very strict fathers, as if proud they got beaten because it made them ‘tougher, better people.’ Problem with that is, the way they were raised is now considered brutal abuse verbally and physically. The way their fathers-and mothers- treated them is pretty close to criminal even by standards of 40 years ago. Maybe it made them stronger, but it also made them so lacking in empathy, so emotionally stunted, that they can’t put themselves in anyone’s shoes but their own and therefore their way is superior and I am doing it all wrong. I am not opposed to the occasional swat on the butt when Spook is acting out, but I am not about to use a belt or scream how useless she is and that I will beat her if she doesn’t get her ass outside and reassemble a tractor engine and get it right the first time or there will be more spankings…Geesh. Idealizing abusive parents and I am the one who needs mental health treatment?

I am currently in a state of dread, waiting for the…doom and gloom parade. It was just supposed to be my stepmonster coming over to replace the sink faucet Spook broke,but the weather quashed dad’s work day so that means it will be both of them trudging in through the rain and snow and cussing and yelling at me and my dad never misses a chance to insult the way the place smells, even if it smells like Yankee Candle fresh cupcakes. When your own father is more critical than the landlord, it’s pretty fucking sad. And like my dad can talk, they have so much grease behind their stove on the wall you’d need a chisel to remove it. Oh and air conditioners piled up on coffee tables and dishes stacked in the sink and on the deep freeze. Now as long as I don’t have to do the housework, I could not care less if they want to leave food out to grow their own antibiotics grow house. But when he comes in and insults MY home and housekeeping, well, judgement is free flying. Few weeks ago maybe he’d have had a valid point, it got pretty bad during the wrongly medicated NP months but…I fixed it, I half ass got my shit together, and it’d be nice for once if he had just one positive thing to say. Hell, he doesn’t even credit me with raising Spook alone all these years and honestly, I am the only in my family who has ever raised a kid alone so I think I am due a modicum of respect. It’d have been easy to just flake out like her father did, sign myself into a hospital, and just sink into my hellish skin suit.

But I did not do that and I know it’s common sense to do right by your kids, but still…I was the one everyone doubted from the get go, if I could handle being a parent, while they all still thought the donor walked on water. Yet I did not walk out 8 years ago and never look back like he did. I am still here, doing my best, even when my kid hits me, gets bad grades, can’t get along with others, has more mood swings than I do…and makes me think I can’t do anything right on a daily basis…I am still here and not using my mental health issues as an excuse to avoid the responsibility-and yes, sometimes suckiness, of parenthood. Yet my own dad can’t even be supportive and encouraging of that. But yeah, that abusive upbringing of his worked out just fine, what a fine example of great mental health and the ability to forge emotional connections and express feelings…NOT.

I had a ‘seethe and burn’ period last night when I got a reply from the school’s band teacher. She mentioned three times that she ‘meant’ to call me but did not get around to it. Then she said there was little expense involved as long as the saxophone does not need repair and that she thought it was wonderful how ‘our community’ rallied to donate a sax and the reeds and case so Spook could participate in what she really wanted to do. Then made me feel like crap because Spook kept telling them we couldn’t afford it, so of course, involving my kid in money matters makes me a bad parent. This woman completely missed the point that Spook had been told no, I had not signed consent, and she defied me and went behind my back and not one single adult called me. Instead she made me feel like I was being unreasonable and ungrateful to the people who donated the band stuff to Spook. This could have ALL been avoided had this woman taken the time to make sure to call me, assure me that the equipment had indeed been donated and not some kids giving away stuff behind their parents’ backs, and stated that the expense should be minimal. Is that asking too much, to be included in my child’s life as I am her parent? I felt totally usurped, insulted, and I wanted soooo badly to fire back an indignant response but…

I am hormonal and not thinking clearly so I let myself sleep on it. And I am just going to let it go because obviously, this woman does not get it at all, that Spook defied me and not one school official could be bothered to contact me.

My own gut is knotting just waiting to see when dad and stepmonster come tromping through. God, they are so loud and all they do is cuss each other and complain and it’s just very upsetting to my calm and safe space. I had like 12 people tromping through for 2 weeks, I am not prepared for Redneck Cage Match in my kitchen. I have tried to talk to them about just showing up without a call and they just tell me to get over it, they are helping me and it is on their time table. Which is why I rarely ask them for help with anything. If you’re just gonna use it to hold me hostage and be rude to my request for basic courtesy call before showing up…keep your damn help, the price is too high. I was okay when it was just stepmonster but now…It’s kinda like waiting for the grim reaper to show at your door only the reaper is your genetic material donor who apparently does not like you much.

They are all judgey because my nephew and his wife are expecting and they just got married in May. Neither of them have steady incomes but they do live in their own income based place and she is finishing beauty school so…Butt the fuck out, let them learn to be adults, good and bad. I think they are too young, but then I get to wondering if I’d had Spook when I was younger, maybe I’d have had more energy to be ‘fun mommy’. There just are no correct answers, you gotta let people do their own thing and if it is a mistake…they will learn it and they will have to pay the consequences. I wished them congratulations and tried to be suportive.

I guess there was also a public altercation when my sister ran into stepmonster at a store and she went around telling everyone that we are her daughters. She is two years younger than me, biologically impossible for me to be her kid, and it is disrespectful to our mother who birthed us and raised us. Guess my sis pissed her off, but it’s true. She isn’t even legally married to our dad so us even calling her a stepmom should be something she is grateful for. But no, she’s so important in her own mind, she even has to claim what my mother put in all the hard work for.I’ve tried to respect her relationship with dad and I even included her as a grandparent in Spook’s birth announcement (my mom was not amused). If she’d just get it through her head that we are her STEPKIDS and quit disrespecting our mom. Not like our mom goes around claiming that stepmonster;s son is hers.

Hell in a skin suit. Yep. Wearing it loud and proud today. Boy will the new psych doc be impressed with my progress. NOT. Gonna have to go through the rigamorole again, as I do with every new doc or nurse, about how the monthly PMDD impacts my mental state. They never note it in my chart ‘because that is a problem for your primary care physican.” Who in turn bounces back with, “I can’t attest to the impact this will have on your bipolar, you need to talk to your specialist.” BLOODY HELL, THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO WORK TOGETHER TO COORDINATE MY CARE AND ALL THEY DO IS PASS THE BUCK AND I AM THE ONE GETTING SCREWED.

Yes, all caps were necessary because it is a frustrating situation.

Today I am so low I can’t even enjoy tv shows. Lest the gloom mongers come knocking on my door. Every sound has me on red alert. Basic socialization should not be this difficult and certainly not with people who are supposed to love you. Yet..this is my reality. Hell in a skin suit. And it isn’t even slimming!

Hypo-Mania Or Just The Calm Before The Storm?

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

Haven’t had much to say as of late. Been riding a possible hypomanic wave, getting things done, not feeling too awful. Of course, this is a fairly common state to reach after you’ve withdrawn from all anti depressants. There’s usually a week or two ‘freedom’ from symptoms as it all clears from your system. And I am coping with um, questionable methods, but…I am getting so much accomplished around the house. I am actively seeking out brief socializations. I am TRYING to ride out whatever this current state is because it could just be the calm before the storm. That depressive storm that comes after the antidepressant therapy has ended and I am left only on Lamictal to stabilize my moods. I’ve ‘detoxed’ this way many times and some of those times, I got it in my head that the antidepressants were what were making me so mentally ill…only to crash land and realize…A couple weeks of hypomanic/stability does not make you cured and it does not vilify legitimate medications. My only certainty right now is that I absolutely made the right choice in going off the Zoloft when the suicidal thoughts set in. I maybe should have at least called the NP’s office and told them but she shut me down so many damn times, I lost all faith in her competence and there was zero trust left that she would do anything but insist on raising the dose again. I just couldn’t do it. And while this respite might be brief and my coping mechanisms iffy…

I am here. I am getting things done, things that just a month ago seemed like impossible tasks. I was in such a dark place of inertia and panic that I was fully ready to just let them take my kid and hospitalize me because I wasn’t getting better, just worse. Now…I won’t say things are great. The socalization causes me anxiety I don’t like and the random panic attacks are still kicking my ass but…I think I am okay til I see the new telepsych guy. Unless he turns out to be a by the book anti benzo jackass too…It would be so nice to have money to just afford to choose a doctor who ‘fits’ as opposed to having to settle for what crap geography and insurance have to offer. I have done more to aid in my own treatment and ‘coming out’ of that black depressive flog in one month than that nurse did in a year. And seeing all I have accomplished this last week and how good I feel about it…Even over the summer when I thought I was ‘okay-ish’, I was really shut down. I was not entirely in touch with the reality of just how big an impact my cluttered dirty environment was causing me. I tried so very hard to break through but the Zoloft just made it so much worse. And to have told her that and be dismissed…These professionals are not helping me with my trust or compliance issues. I belonged in a hospital there for awhile, I had shut down so much. But because of crap insurance and of course, fear of losing your kid if you are hospitalized for psych care…I convinced myself that I was up, I was making sure she was fed and clothed and it was good enough.

Now I look back and cringe. At how psycho I was about keeping people out of the house. (I still don’t like them in my safe space, but I went militant there for awhile, it was crazy.) I was so low, and this low dose Xanax with useless Buspar had me so high strung, I wasn’t even able to make a coherent effort to be involved with my child. I let the tablet and internet babysit her while I rotted in my depressive prison, alone, not even the support of my psych pro or family…I was so alone, fighting so hard and losing, and I needed help so desperately…

That was then and it happened and I can only move on. Things are better, for now. I even decorated for Halloween, which a week ago was the last thing I felt able to do. I am making our Halloween costumes, we are going to be mother-daughter Medusa twins. I am taking her to the daddy/daughter dance and fuck the gender roles, I am her mom and her dad, thanks to that useless sperm donor. She came home bawling again this year when they sent out the flyers and I was gonna take her last year but couldn’t eek up the ten dollars and a dress for her. This year, I am taking her, period, we will figure it out.


And big pharma, what the actual fuck, that a generic is still over $240 a month? (And that’s the cheaper one.)

In other news…heat is still out but since I am in terror of the gas bill to heat the place and the temps are hovering between 40-70, I am just layering us in warm clothes and blankets. Last night, when I was cleaning the laundry room, I dared to sweep under the hot water heater, trying to be vigilant and clean and…I apparently knocked a solder joint loose and the pilot won’t come back on so that has to be fixed, too. I was not amused with my lukewarm bath, I did not see that coming. But that was why I hadn’t cleaned near the damn thing for the last year, I was terrified I’d bump something and it’d stop working and it did…Frick.

Spook is staying at her grandma’s tonight so I should have a peaceful kid free evening. Hopefully my dad is too tired from working all week to start phone stalking me with his doom and gloom. Was bad enough this week when he pulled his big rig right up in front in the road and told me to get the lawn mowed. It’s MY fucking lawn. Freak. Being indebted to them for that $140 new starter the car had to have sucks but I keep telling myself, it could have been worse, he could have taken the hundred I offered him and our water would be shut off. Bartering is about all I have to offer right now. Bloody hell.

So that is what is happening with us. How is everyone out there? Oh, right, people rarely comment or interact here. Oh, well, I tossed out the question in an effort to connect and be less closed off and…hermit-ish. Can’t force people to participate.

Have a lovely Friday and stay tuned…You never know when the mood is gonna swing and the mental demons are gonna start slam dancing on this page.


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.