Grunge

I feel like I should be in.a 90s grunge band. Not bathed since Wednesday. Which was the day sis dyed my hair so.my scalp.is.itchy and red dye remnants are under my nails. I am rewearing dirty clothes since all my clean clothes are summer stuff and I am bloody freezing. Thought.of a shower sets my jaw grinding and my body shivering. Idk why the drs won’t listen.to me. This 6 months a year of unable to get warm has become a serious hindrance. Yes,depression makes hygiene hard but when it was in the 60s Wednesday I showered after becoming.soaked with sweat. For whatever reason,science is skipping me with the whole shower will raise your core temp.

As grunge-tastic as I feel,as ashamed and embarrassed I am to be this way…until I can stop shivering,a shower is not happening.

We went to game night with Mom and Sis last.night. I was so exhausted from fight or flight anxiety all day all I could focus on was leaving. I tried to have fun. I wore my happy mask. And god knows I didn’t want to risk my kid exploding by changing plans and not going. I just was not in good shape yesterday,mentally.

Today is not looking any better. Still gotta face the rent thing. Still gotta face laundry. I don’t wanna. I also said I would cook chicken noodles today but ugh,not sure I have the energy. Yesterday drained me. But do I have the central nervous system bandwidth of not making them and facing.my kid’s wrath? I am so tired of my kid’s behavior. Nothing I buy him.is ever enough. Going out with him is misery because he is the I Want monster.

For now…just accept that I feel like shit and need to zone out. Pressuring myself to go Nike and just do it has the opposite effect. I don’t respond to bullying even from myself. And the saddest part is,I would.not be expected to tough love myself if I had a broken bone or IBS. Nope. You take your time and heal…Mental illness? Suck it up,you are better than this making excuses and whining…

As far as society has come in how it handles mental illness…it has a very long way to.go.before it.is kimd and empathetic.

I Need A Support System

I have been feeling so alone lately. My kid either stays in his room or comes out screaming in a mood to fight and curse me. My family is peripheral. They just don’t get how bad my mental health is. And I drop hints but I also mask like an Oscar winning actress.

I used to have a wonderful online support system. Then chat rooms died. Some recovered and vanished. A couple lost their battle to depression. Others just seemed to tire of me and…I am all alone. When I need support the most. 12 years of this blog,no regular followers. I do have vague interaction with a couple of bloggers but it’s not enough. I am opening up more on Facebook,at least trying for shallow interactions.

But I am alone and I am as close to considering hospitalization as I have ever been. But I have a kid and cat counting on me so that is absolute last ditch effort. Just a few friends (like one or two) to hear me out and cheer me on could be a Godsend. Sadly,as an introvert,making friends is sooo hard. How do I make people like me and care? Fact I view it as making them like me indicates I have zero social skills. Maybe I am just unlikeable or I would have friends. Get a clue,Niki.

That would be the depression and anxiety talking. What I need help with the most are what no one wants to deal with. Me included. Sometimes I mask so well I can even convince myself it is not that bad. I am just neurotic. Malingering. I know it is garbage.

People,like my dad,think I lead this gravy train work free life of leisure. I would give anything to hold a job and never ever feel this dark jumpiness again. Anything. But this is reality. And I need a support system. I just hope it doesn’t involve a stay in a hospital where people are paid to care about me. I wish I were enough for people to just…care.

Drive

I have been struggling with my anxiety and panic with driving for several years now. Pounding heart,paranoia,twitchibg,fear,erratic breathing,white knuckling the wheel,jaw grinding…all while my mind races and points out every tiny thing that COULD go wrong. And it would be my fault for going out when I should have stayed home. Man,those 4 years in Armpit with my dad’s constant criticism and blame have given me some sort of complex ptsd.

BUT…twice today despite every instinct screaming to stay put…I managed two car outings. It was tense. I could.not have been more nervous if a robber was holding me at gunpoint. In my mind,when racing thoughts would allow,I kept telling myself,no,the illness cannot be allowed to win. And today it didn’t win. At least the anxiety didn’t win.

The depression is eating me alive. I can barely manage clean clothes and making sandwiches. I did dishes for the first time in a week Thursday and was as proud as if I had scaled a mountain. Laundry is piled up in trash bags since I cannot trust the sink to drain the washer without flooding. I need desperately to go to the laundromat but…anxiety is screaming about bad juju and pounding heart and…I am frozen. And Ben had a friend over today-the ritzy preppy one- and she said something about her spoon wasn’t clean blah blah. Embarrassing but geesh. Just wash it off,get another,or use a plastic one. No need to be so rude. And no,her Autism doesn’t fly with me. She is rude. Makes fun of my goth makeup. I do not like her but I suck it up because Ben has so few friends. I like hearing him laugh and have fun. But now I feel ashamed of my lousy housekeeping. And my bedroom aka the junk room where stuff has piled up for 6 months. Barely a path to walk. Over and over I try to face it and get it sorted. And I cannot organize my thoughts and I freeze. Living in terror of next inspection. Hell livibg in terror my lease won’tbe renewed because I got my mail while not wearing a bra or sone silly obscure rule. Fight,flight,freeze all at once. Freeze is winning.

For now,I will take the win against the crippling anxiety. My legs are like jelly in the aftermath so I will just relax,do breath exercises,and hope my brain will quiet enough for sleep. Mental illness is exhausting.

Hygiene Hijinks

Ok,so no hijinks but no fucking way should showering be so difficult I struggle to do it once a week. I am not alone. I read other blogs and depression paints showering a barely surmountable task. I enjoy feeling clean and smelling nice so Idk why it is so hard.

Nice ish day out so neighbor kids are out screeching in the warm sun. My kid already had a blow up this morning. Over me not knowing if my sis is playing Bingo tonight. From there it became assasinate mom’s character on 8 diff failings. And then…he was all I love yous. HOW can the so called professionals give me NO help with this kid?

So Bingo tonight. Something to get us out of the house. Family time. Adult conversation. Soo sick of hearing about Tiktok and other mentally deficient social media. It is supposed to be fun distraction. My kid wields it as gospel. And I am exhausted. Breaking down in ways I cannot explain. Yet because my meds finally hold suicidal thoughts at bay,the only help I qualify for is outpatient therapy. So I can come home to everything breaking me down.

Mental illness is a hell no one should have to live.

Panxiety Blues

I had a good snap where the anxiety was managable. I took 3 Xanax in a 7 day span,even though script allows 0.5mg twice a day. I boasted to my counselor about it and sounds to me like she is one of *those* who think a days long good stretch means you are on your way to being cured. Hardly. That very day the panic and paranoia crept up on me like a band of ninjas attacking from all directions. PANXIETY.

The last 4 days have been Panxietypalooza. I hate it. I am frozen like a deer in headlights,unable to organize my thoughts in a productive way. Struggling against irrational fears that FEEL real down to my bone marrow. Fighting back paralyzing fear and “what did I fuck up now” self doubt. Just a brief trip out to take home Ben’s visting friend was a chore. I won’t even go into how his presence in my safe space made my equlibrium off kilter. And H is sooo polite so it is not him. This is my neurotic bullshit.

Movie night was ok last night. Ben started fussing about being tired at 8:30 and his sad sack pouting brought us all down. I didn’t stay for a 2nd movie as planned. Then we get home and thve kid is revived,talking on the phone,up til after 1am hyper af. Sooo manipulative. Plays me like a fiddle. So sick of him being puppetmaster and these so called professionals telling me to be consistent with discipline but not punitive. Wtf does that even mean? Useless. Made me more confused than no counseling. I have to give boundaries and consequences but cannot take his phone as it is his tether to his peer support system so it is punitive..does not leave me much parental authority.

So to get some bloat relief I took a lax and have been in crampy mad dash to bathroom mode all day. In pain,embarrassed,uncomfortable. Accomplished nothing and I am falling back on bad patterns where stuff piles up. I am trying to be kind to myself. With my physical stuff,I truly am not in good shape so it isn’t some lazy malingering thing. It will all get done. Eventually. Maybe soon I will have ADHD meds and my brain will get organized instead of being a chaotic baffling junk drawer. See dr Thurs I think. Hate to swap Xanax but she made it clear it was her pokicy. Man,it sliws my mind and gives me clarity. Losing that just sucks. Hopefully an ADHD med will do something positive. I am exhausted by the chaos of my own mind.

Tire-d

Been calmer. Clearer. Less ranty and tormented. Pain was at a 6 today down from a 12. And then…I got a flat tire. In the middle of a wucked monsoon level thundering pounding rainstorm. Got it home,thinking the steering had gone out. No. That same damn tire that haunted me all winter. Been weeks since it neded air so I wasbaffled. Thing.is,I was paying close attention for 2 weeks,fearing a flat and having to call dad. The one day I don’t give it a thought…FLAT. But yeah,my hypervigilance makes no sense.

Ben was at my sister’s so I texted his phone and explained,asking if sis would bring him home and grab me a can of fix a flat. My sis said NO. She was waiting for her grandbaby to be dropped off to babysit. Yet once there,was there a single reason she couldn’t take 15 minutes to help me out??? I guess I am being overly sensitive but it ceossed me as rude and thoughtlwss,and a little selfish. But typical,she dudn’t lift a finger at all during the move. I am not even worth 15 mins. Geesh. Maybe she is holding a grudge over fostering my cats? Nah. I am just that unimportant.

Thankfully the monsoon stopped and I was able to hobble down 1/8 mile to Dollar General. So much for the pain dying down,activity amped it back up. I am so.unsteady onmy feet,walking makes me nervous. $9 for a GENERIC can of Fix A Flat. Cripes. But I walked back and put it in the tire,it was up long enough to go fetch Ben. Idk what it will be tomorrow. Think I will call R before my dad if I HAVE to. Dad is pissed that I have shut down and cut off phone contact with everyone. Oh,well. I need the disconnect for now.

So…quiet night. Playing way too much Kitty Letter. Spelling is my drug,addicted af. Haunted by yesterday’s appt,I look back and think she really didn’t get me at all. I didn’t diagnose myself bipolar,ffs. And between nervous babbling and worrying cos it was taking awhile and my kid was waiting,I didn’t express myself very well. Curioys that a 45 minute appointment made her instantly declare borderline. Or was she taking the old file as gospel? Oh,right. Once it changed hands,the only notes she can access are about meds,no provider notes. So the only note she has is that godawful NP I ran from back in 2020. Awesome. But really,psych drs have zero chance of ever truly getting to know you in 25 minute bimonthly med checks. And as usual,she was big on the counseling angle. Cos that 4 hours phone time a month is gonna change my entire life. What a joke.

I totally veered off there. Oh,well. My knee is starting to hurt. Overused it today. For me the whole ‘activity makes it better’ thing is a LIE. I was on the mend at least in some ways. Nope. Back to painful square one. Plus side…I didn’t panic today at that flat. I just dealt logically. It crashed my mood,for sure,cos the pain returned and it cost money I cannot spare…but I didn’t panic or get pissed off. That’s what Xanax does for me. Quiets my mind. Reins in the rioting emotions. Sorts the cacophony of thoughts. 0.5 yesterday. 0.5 today. No need to max out or abuse it. A little is all I need for an even keel. And now…more Kitty Letter til I wind down enough to sleep. It has been soooo very long since my mind was this quiet…it is almost peaceful. Turmoil is still there but..it is no longer in control and tirmenting me. This,the dude abides👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻

Busy Sore Body

Been running since 4:50 am. DMV,laundromat,3 yard sales,opened a bank account only cos it was the only wst to cash a check,visited my mom…Busy and my body is sore. The numbness and tingling are bAD. Add on the swollen belly bloat…I am miserable physically. Mentally,I am one step from putting on a tin foil hat.

I pulled out in front of someone today,little too close a call. Then I got confused and thought I had the car in park but only my foot was on the brake…and the car rolled forward,bumping an ice machine. I almost tipped over or tripped multiple times due to the physical issues.

“But you’re doing it,can’t be that bad.”

It really is that bad. My mind is such a dark hateful place. Autopilot has a wall. No one choose to break down. I get scared. I really have had one kick to the head after another this year.

Oh,today our microwave quit so yeah…

I am in crippling dread of going back to the house. That oppressiveness is soul sucking.

For this evening,I rest my sore body and tormented mind. I ticked off so many goals today,I earned the me time. But still ready for bed at 8pm so has anything changed but the scenery? People got in my head,convinced me it was 80% environment. Depression is an illness,not a location. I expected it to just lift cos people said it would. I knew otherwise but I never stop hoping I am wrong and others are right.

Wanting to be mentally well just doesn’t make it true.

Did I? Didn’t I?

The two a.m.wake in a panic (AGAIN) rattled me. I find myself wishing I had less of a conscience,because all I do anymore is feel bad about every tiny thing. It impacts my physical health,my sleep,my appetite. Makes me anxious and lowers my srlf esteem. I a literally being made sick every single day over…junk and money. It is really sad.

It was almost 4 am last I was aware how frustrated I was because I couldn’t calm down enough to go back to sleep. Next thing I know,it is 4:50 am,my heart is leaping out of my chest,and I am wide awake. BUT…

I have no idea if I slept that hour or not. I just…cannot discern. Maybe close to sleep but not quite asleep? More disconcerting is how often this confusion happens.

I really need this move to happen. This is getting old,being told it is almost ready only to be put on hold again. Not been reading good things about these women who manage the properties or maintenace actually fixing stuff so that plays into my anxiety. I just…want out. My gut tells me if I know it is a fldone deal,I will sprinh into actoom on everything else. Again,I could be pink clouding,I have been known to do that during depressive bouts.

But my dad is in my head,forcefeeding his opinions and lack of faith in me and I cannot let that shake my faith in myself.

Counseling should be intetesting tomorrow. She is part of the reason I finally stood up to my dad. Because I don’t deserve berating in my own home even by my dad. But she was a little naive with the ‘what’s the worst that can happen’ thing. I was too,cos I haven’t seeny dad viokent-ish in decades. And I never in a million years saw him lunging after a 12 year old. He is focused on how I disappoint him. I am disappointed in him and ashamed of his actions. A kid’s job is not about doing what makes a parent look good. I resent him for putting that on me my whole life. It kind of is the parent’s job to not do things thd child is traumatized by.

One more counselor who cannot grasp the level of dysfunction in my family.

Looks like I am up for the day. Maybe one day soon that will seem like a good thing rather than a punishment.

Omg,omg,omg, just let me not wake up

3 am and a cat woke me. One of the sisters making biscuits on me. Andvthe panic set in. Omg,I have no home for them,wtf am I gonna do? Omg,can I just go back to sleep and not feel like this? An I just pump the breaks and stay so I don’t betray my girls?

This is truly ripping me apart. No one gets it.

My belly is still a mess. 15 hours post multiple doses Dulcolax and no relief at all. Just rolling over in bed is difficult. Ben keeps accusing me of stomping room to room but because of the numbness,I don’t feel how much pressure in my footsteps. And my body is so huge and unwieldy,I am focused on getting from point a to point b with least discomfort so not aware of any stomping.

For 3 days I ran on defiant “watch me prove you wrong” energy. I can do this move without dad’s crew helping. But…now I feel scared and exhausted. What if it was bipolar bravado? We get those grandeur moments where we aren’t exactly running on fact and logic…what if I overestimate my ability? I DO have limitations,much as it galls me.

It is nor just knee jerk panic. I am scared and uncertain. And failing my cats may not be something I ever forgive myself for. I am a horrible cat mom. I probably don’t deserve to keep even one cat,unfit pet owner.

Ugh,self doubt sucks. Fear sucks. Being,awake in a panic every single night for months is wearing me down.

I pray for strength. I really hope I CAN do this. My dad being right could be what pushe’s me over the edge.

Scared

Seems all I do lately is sleep. But not healthy hours long sleep. Hour here,half hour there. Ben must get sick of me nodding off randomly before 9pm. I try so hard to tough it out,but being in pain mentally and physically drains me. And the fact all he does is hole up in his room and blow up if I try to interact with him just makes the desire for sleep stronger.

Multiple wake ups all night. 5:10 am I just got up. Pain has moved to my.pelvis and lower back. Now it even hurts to sit up. Lying down seems most comfortable. Cannot go through life like that,though.

I’m scared. In every way. In a panic that housing will call tomorrow and since I don’t have the money,we lose our spot. And I want to cry unfair but that voice in my head points out that I have had 4 months to come up with it. It really isn’t that simple,though. I am scared of what is going on with my body. My sister’s article text got inside my head,now I feel like I have a few weeks at most to live. And since the local incompetents don’t much care,it is feasible that I could end up dying. Maybe not but panic attacks really don’t care about logic. My coffin is already 6 feet under.

The only comfortable position for me now is lying on my back with my head propped up on pillows. My back is hurting that bad when sitting up. All the “get moving,movement will help you with pain and mental issues” irks me since it just makes it worse for me. It is scary to hurt so bad,not know why,and be powerless to do anything about it is soul crushing.49 years of good health did not help me learn to be ill with any grace.

I am so tired of this blog being so negative. No wonder it has no loyal readers and cannot draw new ones. If I were stable And I read it,I would probably be skeptical that anyone could feel that bad,all the time. Not like I want to feel like this. Not like I am not doing all in my power to make my situation better. But it is par for the course,people assuming that you are just a lazy pessimist as opposed to down on.your luck but putting up one hell of a fight to be admired.

So…to my TWO loyal readers…thanks for sticking with me and being supportive. And I appreciate the sporadic on occasion readers,too. But the 2200 plus followers who never read,or click.like or comment…WHY follow a blog you’re not interested in reading? Baffling af.

Going to try to sit up for a bit,lying back all the time makes me feel lazy. I just hurt a lot less flat ony back. I still cannot fathom these med providers not prescribing a laxative or toradol for pain. Guess they just don’t believe I am legit hurting. One more thing for me to be outraged about.

And to lighten up the vibe here,some cuteness.