Archive for virtual assistant jobs

Sleepless In Armpitopia

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , , on March 21, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I should not have been surprised, let alone so aggravated, when after yesterday’s napping reboot and the ensuing all around good mental state…I slept from 10:45 p.m. til 2:15 a.m. and then I was awake until 5:30 a.m. I took .25 mg of xanax but as I am out of Ataraz and low on melatonin, it was just a waiting game. I counted backwards by odd numbers at least five times. I tried counting forward in even numbers. I sat up. I paced. I laid back down. I tried my soothing sounds machine. Total darkness and quiet. (Except for the fucking endless trains that go through this hellpit day and night.) It just made me more angry and frustrated. At wit’s end I put an Unsolved Mysteries playlist on the laptop and last I looked at the clock it was nearing six a.m. and I was dreading the alarm going off at 6:30. I slept til 7:10 then spent 40 minues trying to get my kid out the door. She did her job of griping and fighting me tooth and nail.

I thought then I could get some rest. I was listless, nervous, just agitated as hell for no apparent reason. Other than the obvious that the genius healthcare here misses. Lack of quality restorative sleep. I was unable to get warm so climbing back under the covers was pleasant. But much like the night my mind would not slow down. Counting backwards was doing nothing. Sound machine was doing nothing. (Nothing drowns out the damn trains.) Sit up, lay down, pace a bit. Lather, rinse, repeat. Maddening. Like hack people up with an ax maddening. I don’t think anything has ever frustrated me as much as being totally exhausted yet unable to get back to sleep. I even rationed out a tiny dab of Xanax and a melatonin. NOTHING. Finally said fuck it and took the trash to my stepmonster’s and got to hear how much my brother loves working at McDonald’s. He worked a single 3 hour shift and ended up sweeping and wiping tables because he couldn’t get the hang of burrito rolling. Not that I could. But then he is a different person from me, he kind of thrives on anxiety and immersion therapy. Stepmonster told me all about how his psych nurse (the first FAIl I had with nurse practitioners) said working would be good for his depression and moods and yes, anxiety.

Dear God, I am screwed if I don’t make a miraculous recovery soon. Because like I’ve said, this place is no longer about individual treatment, it has become one size must fit all and of it doesn’t, you’re the problem. This is terrifying. Not because I think working would be too hard, I’d kill to get my self esteem back. What is hard is pretending to be stable when you’re simply not and then everyone clucking their tongues when yet again you fail. The well meaning simpletons actually cause many of us to push ourselves too hard and we fall on our faces. That’s what happened with me helping at R’s shop. Even 16 hours for 3 months just to get a different car…I couldn’t handle it anymore. I had emotional shrapnel flying, I was constantly edgy, I felt imprisoned by his demands that extended far beyond simple shop wench. If I failed a friend who is now reporting that failure like a character flaw as opposed to the true issue of my mental health stability(and I went through it all and did not get the car,so it was that bad for me.)…well, I fail to see, much as I need to work, how adding more local bad references can do anything but hurt me. (Which is why I WOULD VERY MUCH LIKE A WORK AT HOME GIG, I WOULD BE AN AWESOME VIRTUAL ASSISTANT!!! I excel if I don’t have to leave home and I love computers!)

The first psych nurse asked me how I’d know when I was ready to go back to work full time.

I told her if I’d been on a stable cocktail for six months-during the seasonal depression between October and March, and remained completely functional and not melting down or flaking out…I’d declare myself ready to do battle at any job. I’ve not had any such recovery during a winter period in 7 years. In fact, the last time I ‘recovered’ was right after the donor left and I tried so hard to push myself to just get out there, get a job, and take care of my kid. I pushed myself so hard that I was showing up at the shop even when in the middle of a toxic reaction to one medication that locked my muscles up. I was toughing it out to my own detriment to prove I could. So when I did go splat, it was a splintering of my entire identity, not just anxiety, not just the bipolar or depression. It was a catastrophic system failure. I overestimated my capabilities based on what others expected of me and what I wished myself capable of. And she was complicit by enouraging me to keep at it even when I admitted feeling like I needed hospitalized to escape R and that whole situation. Rather than have empathy or make an effort to understand, she used the one size fits all mentality and rather than submit a proper letter of resignation I let it go on until the man texted me on the weekends after 10 p.m. literally calling me stupid for not sharing his political views…and I snapped and said fuck it, not coming back. If that woman had shown me an iota of individual compassion and assured me a little time away wouldn’t hurt anything instead of pretending to know me and my abilities…Ultimately it is on me, though I doubt it would have gone down so horribly if I’d had adequate mental health support.

That’s a terrifying thing, having your ability to make even basic income for shelter and such in the hands of someone who spends 15 minutes with you every six weeks (15 minutes IF you’re lucky) and can’t even discern from your state of disheveled unbathed sickly appearance and manner that you tried and you’re just running on empty. I thought she was harsh. This new one is ten times more detached and by the book, she will never give me an ounce of empathy or true support. She seems to have therapeutic empathy and support confused with coddling and hand holding. I’m not asking for a thing I haven’t received from pretty much every other doctor that has come through that place. If I were trying to turn her into something that I wanted to create out the ether, that’d be delusional. I just want the same standard of care maintained. She ain’t it. And I’m stuck til June. At least.

So again…virtual assistant needed anywhere? Work from home is the ONE thing I’ve never been fortunate enough to try and since I manage to cope with all the madness involved just in daily life as a mom here…If I don’t have to leave the house and it’s not a rapid fire noisy type thing, I could flourish. Of course, I am coming to understand that work from home jobs are a scam. Pegacorns wrapped in leprechauns and pots of gold and rainbows. I can still dream.

I really went off the rails there. I think the point I was going to make was, the interrupted sleep, lack of quality rest to even catch up, rendered me pretty useless today. I am short tempered, hypersensitive to all the noisy trains and trucks and tractors. My kid is playing with her friend and even though they are out on the swingset, they keep bickering and I have to referree every five minutes and it’s getting on my last nerve. This will not be like last night when I wasn’t praying for darkness and the sleep of the spawn so I could escape the pressure cooker inside my own head. I want darkness NOW but it’s two hours away at least. And if they’re bickering chances are it means she will spend the night complaining that he picked fights, he was all the problem, and it was my fault for not ‘making’ him play what she wanted…Oh, the drama literally makes me feel physically ill.

For the record, I checked on my status for the fast food jockey position. My references were not favorable. Also, a friend of R’s daughter who disliked me from day one is in management so even if my references had been good elsewhere, something tells me I’d have not had a chance anyway. Much as small town people can be real friendly and loyal, they can also be narrow minded, judgey, cruel, and they have zero problem using their personal differences in a professional capacity. But hey, maybe I’m just paranoid.

Still feeling unemployable. I am willing to TRY at least. But you don’t walk in with a machete and say, “Hire me, I’m awesome, don’t make me cut you…” Geesh, I wish it was the fucking easy.

So in closing…this day has sucked. And the only thing that made any different than yesterday is…lack of sleep. I’m exhausted and it makes me cranky and heightens my anxiety while lowering my tolerance and coping skills. Apparently I am never gonna know if the meds are actually working because without proper sleep, they don’t do shit for depression and anxiety. And proper sleep is the ONE thing 10 doctors have been unable to ‘fix’ in me. Then again they haven’t tried Lunesta or Ambien because they might have to pick up a phone and be put on hold and do a little battle with my insurance to pay for it. Dr. M and Dr. B went that extra mile for us patients. The new regime tells you the drug isn’t covered then you call to raise hell with the insurance people and they inform you there was never any inquiry made by the doctor’s office. But without a script and specific doseage, you yourself cannot get the medication preapproved so you kind of need the doctor’s help.

Uh oh, the kids are quiet, that’s frightening. One of them could be beating the other up with a hoola hoop. Don’t underestimate things kids can turn into weapons.

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