Archive for work from home

Splintered

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

Psych professionals make mention frequently of compartmentalization. They, of course, utilize this concept in a healthy, proper way, as opposed to the compartmentalization, say, a sociopath would utilize. It’s sort of like this society driven division, not of personality, but of behaviors that are acceptable in certain situations. Of course, at work, you are going to be professional and work hard and whatever else your position requires of you. At church, you might genuinely believe or be a hypocrite and fake being pious and a believer. At a party, you might drink too much, or get too loud with the dirty jokes or bubbly personality. With your kids, you will be firm, loving, and consistent.

This is a healthy, normal thing, as long as it is all well balanced.

With the level of mental illness I am currently experiencing, it has ceased to be healthy compartmentalization and become a splintered psyche of insecurity, fear, paranoia, sadness, frustration, and a complete upheaval of every solid personality trait of positivity I’ve ever possessed.

I feel fractured on a daily basis. I never know if I am going to feel up and strong, or determined and energetic, or if I am going to be in that meek, terrified paranoid space where everything is perceived as threat and I can’t make sense of the alphabet even though I know it by heart but…I’m unable to organize my thoughts and recall it correctly.

This is compartementalization, exploded. I no longer have the luxury of solid little behavioral blocks, knowing how to behave in X situation versus Y situation. I no longer have the clarity to know right from wrong because it’s become so subjective, so fluid, and prey to my varying levels of mental illness. Parts of me have even started to reject traditional ideas 0of right and wrong, which isn’t exactly new for me, I’ve always rebelled against ‘the norm’ but I am in this place where “is it wrong to steal a loaf of bread” has become a confused multi part question of, “Is it to feed your kids? Because stealing is wrong but if you did it because your kid was starving, well, that’s different motivation than doing it for a thrill.” And I believe whole heartedly that like felony charges, intent should count toward misdemeanors. And it doesn’t matter if I am right or wrong or if polite society and the law agree, this is my mental space. I CANNOT DISCERN RIGHT FROM WRONG PROPERLY WITHOUT IT LEADING TO CONFUSION.

Killing someone? Wrong. But hey, were they trying to kill you first? Were you in fear for your life? Did they threaten you and you got tired of looking over your shoulder and just panicked to end the fear?

NO BLOODY CLARITY.

One day I am extroverted and make an effort to interact.

The next day I feel everyone is out to get me and like a threatened, cornered animal, I am on red alert, ready to slash out with words or claws or an inflatable orca.

And these mental states are so damn real, so convincing, that even when I am trying to convince myself it’s all irrational and distortion and mental illness…I’m not buying into the self pep talks anymore. I want to because deep down I know it’s logical. My current level of illness does not care about logic.

One thing I had going for me my whole life was that I could to an extent compartmentalize enough to ‘fake it’ for jobs, for social events, for family get togethers, for basic polite society.

Now I am so disturbed that it’s a perpetual struggle trying to put all the splintered pieces of myself back together enough to regain ‘me’.

I am not insane.

But I am battling a very severe bout with my disorders right now and my judgment is severely impaired, my logic MIA. Beyond the bare minimum to care for my child and keep the bills covered…I got nothing. No thoughts for the future, no hopes, no joy. Anhedonia has become the only constant in my life. That and paranoid paralyzing panic.

I feel like a shattered mirror and no super glue can put the shards back together to give anything but a splintered reflection.

May this be a temporary situation. If this is the new norm, I’m not gonna make it out alive.

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Scary

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?

Frozen

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , on July 8, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I am on edge and frozen in place in my bedroom crypt. My dad said they’d be by sometime to mow, which translates into me mowing while he yells at me how I am not doing it right and it looks shitty. This is what I’d call a triggered anxiety response. What does not make good sense is that I could have been outside an hour ago mowing it myself so I could avoid them, but then again, this yard is enormous and all I have is a push mower so it’s an hours long process by myself.

I need to toughen up and get a Teflon coating so nothing sticks to me. Unfortunately, I’ve been trying for years and failing. Things do stick to me. Like being bullied by the very man who is supposed to unconditionally love and accept me and back off when I tell him he is doing something to offend and stress me out. Instead he cusses me, calls me names, and vows never to help me again. All because I don’t flourish under criticism and yelling.

I am still devastated by the loss of our kitten yesterday. It haunts me. It was an accident but that doesn’t make it easier. Fucked up as it may sound, I don’t think I’d take killing an evil person as hard as I am taking the death of this sweet kitten. Evil people and people who put you in the position of live or die deserve no mercy.

So here I sit in my crypt on the bed, jumpy, jittery, and paranoid that if I start moving around something bad will happen. Hell, yesterday I was just going out for some milk and….the kitten died.

I am still struggling with the trips to driving to town. Every noise, every sound as the tires roll over the pavement, I am convinced I have a flat. If the car shifts slowly, I automatically think transmission is going out. (It happened to my old Grand Am so it’s a feasible fear.) I get to town and wanted to run a couple of errands but…I forgot what I needed, and I avoid the store where the donor works unless I don’t see his car there…I did stop for am Orange vanilla Coke. Sometimes those little treats are the best you’re gonna get.

What would help me most of all would be to sleep at night as opposed to waking up multiple times. I am exhausted. This impacts my mood which heightens my anxiety…And the nurse is useless to help me except with the coma pills like Seroquel and Trazadone. NOPE. I may have a good mental health day and contact my insurance to see if they cover Lunesta. I’ve never had it but 7-9 straight hours of sleep and no hangover sounds pretty damn promising.

Back to Pandora’s Box Of Panxiety.

And once again, if anyone knows of any work from home opportunities, please let me know. I don’t care if it’s $12 a week for reading email and watching videos. That little amount could help buy pet supplies so it would be well worth it.

How fucked up is it I’ve had perfect strangers donate money and yet here I am begging for someone to help me find work within my disability limitations and NOTHING. What message is that sending? I am willing to work, I am just not willing to risk my precarious mental health by working in noisy crowded triggering places. Not opposed to fetish porn at this point. Yes, I am that far down the rabbit hole and my dignity has taken a backseat to supporting my child.

Don’t judge me, I am doing the best I can.

Grief

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

One of kittens got under my car today and died. I didn’t know he was under there, I usually honk to spook them away. Today I didn’t because I swore I did a headcount and they were all on the step. I buried Tyketto and have spent an hour crying and grieving. I am just…shattered. It was an accident but this does not assauge my guilt. I feel like the most vile person on the planet right now and the day is young.

All I need is my dad calling me over and over and bitching at me. And they’re supposed to mow my lawn which means I mow, stepmonster sits on a rider, and they both scream at me how I am doing it wrong and it doesn’t look pretty. They mow their neighbor’s yard and never yell at her or guilt her.

My hatred for them grows by the day. My dream is to move Spook far away from this toxicity called my family. My mom babies her, my dad treats her like she’s a grown up and shouldn’t have tantrums and should be mowing lawns.

This day sucks. I just want to feel nothing and silently grieve for my cat and flog myself with guilt.

And I know what my dad will say. “No use crying, it’s done and you have too many cats anyway.” Yes, he has said that many times when we’ve lost a cat.

He’s a monster. And his woman is the bride of the fucking monster, minus the legal status.

Just let me grieve.

But so I can’t be accused of not trying, I did fill out an application on line for sandwich artist. Those personality tests are a bitch because I can’t say people don’t get offended by the things I say because they do. But it’s not like I’d do it in a paid work position, ffs. If I want to call my dad a fucking asshole, well, that’s our family dynamic.I should lie, I know. Personality tests are bullshit anyway. If they wanted to truly know you, they’d give you situations and ask you to write a paragraph explaining how you would handle it within the company rules and respect and satisfaction for the customer.

Okay, the tears are coming again. I don’t want to drip on the laptop.

Hive Mind

Posted in anxiety, depression, working with disabilities with tags , , , , , , on July 7, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

It’s nearing 6 a.m. I have been up since 3:20. The whole thing with my dad on my ass about working at fast food hell has me breaking out in hives. I am 46 years old and my dad can still nag me to hives and keep me from sleeping. Pathetic. But he calls FOUR times a day to rag on me and even when I say fuck off, he keeps doing it, after he screams at me that I am lazy and useless.I have tried being mature and civilized and pointing out, he doesn’t pay any of my bills and I am not asking for anything, so WHY is it any of his business? And god knows I can’t dare mention the fact that I am disabled, that starts him on another tear about deadbeats on the dole.

Any ideas on how to handle this impossible cretin of a man?

Any thoughts on how to earn money from home on the computer?

I don’t care if it’s $12 a week for emailing spam, just anything to get him off my fucking back. It would really frost his balls if I could find something to do on line, he is so hell bent on how my failure to get employment is because I insist on applying on line and won’t go talk to the people. And blah blah blah, that’s not how they do it at his job which he’s had 42 years blah blah blah. I just want to earn some money or hell, even gift cards to buy household and pet supplies. ANYTHING to get him off my back. I am not lazy, I am disabled. If anyone would ever bother to work with me and around my limitations, they might find I am a hard worker, I want to work, but yeah, I have some stuff going on that makes conventional jobs near impossible for me.

Anyone want to help me spite a bigoted racist redneck who has one set of rules for himself, his woman, and their son and another set for his daughters? Anyone want to help me battle misogyny?

Probably not but I am going to keep trying.

Out there somewhere is a way for me to earn a living without it sending me to the Rubber Ramada. I just gotta find it.

It’s light out now. I will never get back to sleep. It’s gonna make for a long day. I am thinking about unplugging the house phone and calling it a whoospie, forgot to plug it back in after running the hell machine vaccuum. It’s happened before, legit. Then he’d just call my cell and waste my minutes on it, but thankfully, I keep the volume low to avoid panic attacks so it’s easily not heard. Then he will come to my door, start barking orders about mowing my lawn properly, and make my life a living hell as he seems to do 7 days a week since we moved to Armpit.

If it wasn’t for him and his crew, I might adapt to this place.

Advice on how to handle the situation would be appreciated. Surely someone knows how to deal with a personality like his. I’ve never figured it out because he simply can’t see any side but his own and he is immovable on certain topics.

Thoughts, anyone? Before I need to drag around and IV pole with a Benadryl drip to control my itchy hives.

Work From Home-PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SOMEONE HELP A DISABLED PERSON

Posted in disability, employment, work from home with tags , , on July 6, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

My dad is on my ass like a diaper again about working. I don’t know why he thinks it is his business, I am not asking him for anything. I am not stable enough to risk my disability by working in an environment that time after time has reduced me to a nervous breakdown. I have told him to mind his own damn business, he lets it go for a day after screaming bloody murder at me, then starts in again.

The village lot lizard and meth whore got hired at fast food hell so now he thinks I MUST go work there. Just eating there with all the noise about does me in. He won’t listen, he doesn’t care. It’s his way or he chews my ass into submission.

If anyone knows of anything I can do from home via computer and internet, God knows, I am a hard worker, but I have limitations. I know I have been singing this same old tune for months and most home gigs are scams, but I really need some ideas here to get him off my back. I can’t risk our insurance coverage by earning too much, I can’t risk my disability by going to work and they decide I am cured when clearly, I am a bit of a trainwreck after the Abilify side effect debacle. Not to mention I can barely drive in town since they cut my Xanax.

If anyone reads this and has any ideas-I don’t even care if it’s balloon porn at this point- speak up. This man is edging me toward self harm because he calls FOUR times a day every day to chew on this topic. If you can’t help me with the job aspect, can you come kick his redneck ass? JOKE.

I really need some ideas, guys.