Ninjas

I read a blog…and got smacked with ninja anxiety and mood crash. This woman lives in public housing and they do weekly “health and safety” inspections. WEEKLY? I have cone to terns with having to endure occasional inspections. I have even accepted that while not what I want,a little oversight is NEEDED.

But weekly is going to shred my nerves. At one point,I had a psych note requiring the landlord give 24 hours notice before coming inside my safe space. It is that upsetting. I don’t even like friends and family in my safe space without a heads up.

So of course,my brain jumped to the conclusion that the housing I applied for will be the same. Panic ensues. Weekly is insane. Biweekly maybe,but that intrusive level.is truly too much oversight. This is why I have avoided public housing for well,my whole life. I need my safe space to be safe. And having.looked at the 30% income base,I really won’t be saving much on rent. So is it worth the intrusion?

Not that I have much choice. And having no choice is as crushing as overly invasive landlords. Feels like I have no choice in anything. Feeling powerless will not help me beat the depression.

But first,I need this physical stuff resolved

I just want my mental and physical problems gone so I can get a job and be normal. So much more control when you work. And maybe putting in time on a low paying job would build a good reference to a good paying one. Wanting to be in control of my life is not a bad thing.

Stomach is churning. Paranoia is rising. I am going to be dealing with new landlords for the indefinite future. I really need Xanax. At least it kills the paranoia and quashes the panic. Anxiety I can manage. The sirens going iff 24-7 have always been the biggest issue.

At least I bathed today. Someday I hope my mind is well enough to not have to list putting on clean clothes,deodorant,and brushing fangs as a daily goal to ensure I remember. And it would be super great if I could actually feel my fingertips again so I write more than I correct. Anything that messes with me writing is a crippling ailment that MUST be healed.

FAKE

I did something today that took every bit of courage tp face and fake. I talked to a service that helps disabled people get jobs. My anxiety has been borderline panic all day. I explained that I am not doing great,not stable,but due to pur situation I don’t see any option but to work. (Omg,I just yelled at a cat and pushed it away in irritation,what is wrong with me,I don’t do that!)

I want to work,I do. I just don’t know how long I can last. And even though totally honest…I feel fake. And I worry that desperation will be construed as cured or not disabled.

One more reason I desperately want to work. I am tired of everyone being in control of my livelihood. I don’t want to go on living this way,where one paper pusher or impatient psych caregiver has total.powe’re over me having an.income nd health coverage. The stress is overbearing. Feeling guilty for the rare good day or stable period,as if that undoes months of wishing for death just to escape the darkness of my own mind. At least a job would be pretty much secure as long as I do it reliably and well.

I feel more nauseated thn before the call. Feels like I am deluding myself that ican handle a job in my current state. Being a fake. It bothers me. It all bothers me.

I don’t mean to sound ungrateful because I am not but at times I curse even trying for disability. Maybe even unstable homelessness would have resulted in less loss of self esteem and self respect. Never really pondered it before. Talking to that woman today,feeling like a loser on paper so I probably wouldn’t hire me,either…Even with disability it has been daily worry about reviews,about drs siding with me,about losing that limited stability…

I am still in survival mode either way. And I hate it.

I have to grant that agency access to my medical files. Last NP I saw was1 time,then the one before that I had zero faith in due to her by the book approach…But I guess my history will speak for itself even if the providers don’t.I see no reason anyone would cook up mental illness as a scam. The stigma is not worth it. You are better off poisoning yourself ala Munchausens.People have empathy for what they can see. Telling people you are depressed and anxious just leads to derision. Can’t see it,must be fake.

The whole mental illness thing confuses and stunts me more than labels help me cope. I may not be able to fix my mind but I truly do want to be back in control of my life and self esteem.

Really feel like I am going to throw up. Anxiety is relentless. I wish I was faking that.

Doom

I ate eggs earlier in hopes it would ward off nausea from humidity…instead it wrecked my stomach,made me throw up,and kept me close to the bathroom all day. So much for having a yard sale. I even napped an.hour after Ben went to his friend’s. Not my normal. Not a fan of this day.

I just keep getting hit with panic attacks and have this inexplicable but crippling feeling of doom. I cannot shake it off. I keep flogging myself.4 months I have had to make a plan for moving and I got nothing. My brain isn’t keen on my explanations,even though 100%legit. And I cannot help but feel bitter to have family that could help…but won’t. I know for a fact my dad got a $500 cash bonus this month and made as much on his yard sale this weekend. He could help even a little but is fine with us ending up in a homeless shelter. Wtf is wrong with these people? Family is who you are supposed to be able to count on.

I have nothing and no one. Maybe I get wrapped up in my mental stuff and don’t really cultivate connections but I also don’t ask anyone for anything unless truly in a bind.

I need to not think about it,it is only going to make the doomy feelings worse. I wish Ben was home. He would be in.his room on the phone no doubt but being alone feeling so down on myself,with my mind whispering Bad Thoughts…I hate feeling this way on top of physical illness.

Back to sweating my ass off. Temp is 83 but the humidity has been thick since my 4 a.m panic wake up. It is just wrong to sit still and have sweat pouring off of you.

I Make Me Sick

Watching shows like Lethal Weapon and MacGyver have me feeling really down on myself. Lead to a long lament on Finch self care app about how much I WANT to work. I miss self esteem,self worth. Feeling useful and competent. It should be as easy as “just do it”. I sure as hell want it.

Just like I wanted it over the course of years and a dozen plus jobs. Fact is,I gave a legitimate disability that renders me disabled 8 plus months a year. I fought it. Rejected it. Tried to live with it and work around it. Failure after failure and now my name is mud. I did good work the few functional months I had. Unfortunately,all they noted were absences and instability and lack of productivity more often than not. Employers don’t care if you are physically ill,let alone mentally ill. It just looks like laziness and poor character. Nothing I do will change the past.

All I can do is try for a fresh start and be what is needed. Stable and productive. I am neither at this time. Bathing once a week and barely being able to feed myself easily does not instill confidence in me,let alone allow me to boast it to others.

I wish to god it was bad character. I could fix that. I cannot fix mental illness.

I watch these shows where people are doing good things,making a living and changing the world,helping others…I want that. Living life rather than dreading every waking moment…anyone who thinks I choose to feel this way is dumb. I want to feel anything but depressive despair and crippling anxiety. Wanting it doesn’t make it so,regardless of society’s party line. I do believe people can do amazing things if they set their minds to it. But much like mental willpower does not heal broken bones faster,it also does not balance an unwell mind.

Logically,I know this. So why can I not show myself some kindness and accept being sick isn’t my fault?

Because society may celebrate May as mental health awareness month and make appropriate noises…it still stigmatizes,invalidates,and judges the mentally ill. The world is often not kind or accepting.

And that makes it really hard to accept ourselves and show ourselves kindness.

I wish I never heard of depression and anxiety. It has robbed me of so much. The ability to work steadily being the biggest loss. Losing your self worth is devastating.

I make me sick that way.

I Want More

I know right now I am in extreme survival mode and with bad thoughts lurking,I don’t even know about my long term actual survival. It does not mean I have accepted failure as a default.

I want more.

One of the most common themes of my dreams is…I work. Maybe not glamorous career type stuff but in my dreams,I gave a job.

In every single story I have dreamy up and written..my lead female characters have jobs. From gas station clerk to medical examiner,they all have purpose and independence.

This unstable idle pointless existence was never what I wanted. I don’t like it. I am just accepting,grudgingly,of the limitations multiple mental illnesses place on me. And society is ill equipped with resourced for the mentally ill and disabled. I honestly think with accommodations for my disorders,I could hold a job once stabilized. More than a few months. Just finding a job that would offer this is near impossible because…they want stability. The kne thing I have never had.

Still,I fantasize. I dream. I want.

It has a lot to do with societal ignorance and misunderstanding,the way people with depression and such are written off. Mental illness has NOTHING to do with lack of intelligence. Our brains receive wrong information. It doesn’t make us stupid. But rather than help us find a position we can do within limitations,society writes us off. Some are doomed to work in spurts,rack up bad references,and live in a state of looming homelessness. Others like me finally get the stability of a disability income…but spend our lives in a stupor between battling our disorders and feeling like life has shunned us as being of value.

I want more.

I don’t have a clue what I would even want to do or flourish doing. But the fact I want to figure that out should speak volumes about my character.

Right now,I just need to stay afloat and survive this double dose of mental and situational instability.

But make no.mistake..if I do survive it…I want more.

The Crazy Returns

I had a solid couple hours of my mind being quiet. The clarity (and semi proper sleep) enabled me to get chores done without it overwhelming me completely. The respite was welcome although brief,wish stable periods would last longer.

Around 2,I forced myself outside in an effort to counter the start of rising anxiety . Being locked down in Armpit going on 3 years has caused my old agoraphobic issues to surface. If I don’t force myself out occasionally,the fear of ‘out there’ becomes crippling. But then I went out and forgot how to work the soda fountain. Just total blank and confusion. Was only 10 seconds but it was frightening. I began to feel unsafe and threatened. Getting home in a hurry became the ONLY priority. ‘Out there’ may be a necessary evil but it also 90% of my anxiety and panic triggers. Makes life a very difficult tightrope walk.

Once home,I felt safer but it was nearing Ben time so that anxiety started. And since it has metastasized into paranoia,panic,and feelings of doom and despair. SPLAT,as I call it,when my mental state crashes so abruptly. It is like falling and landing splat on your face. I would give anything to never have to feel this way again. This is not a quality life. I make do best I can when I get glimpses of stability. I treasure those couple of peaceful hours I had earlier.

Anyone who thinks being on disability and living life in fight or flight ‘let me not wake up tomorrow’ space is how I want my lufe to be,you are beyond wrong. I am tired of existing with mental illnesses.I would give anything to live a life of stability.

The Mentally Disabled Need Job Options

Society has a penchant for looking down on people who rely on disability income. We are viewed as subhuman leeches expecting handouts. This erodes the self esteem we have and serves no positive purpose. The act that protects the physically disabled and requires employers make accomodations for their disability does not apply to people with mental disorders. Our options are to starve during our unstable periods while racking up bad references…or try for disability. And the latter is far from easy to get approved.

The smart thing to do would be to provide those with mental disabilities options for work they can perform within their limitations. If getting dressed due to depression is the problem,train us to work from home. If anxiety is the issue,a solitary quiet position. For those with both,working from home is ideal. We just rarely have money and opportunity to learn the skills these positions require. Mental disability has little to do with intelligence so investing in educating and training us would be a good move. We are smart,motivated,and WANT to be independent.

A politician in my state is running TV ads about ‘handouts keep people down’. That is incorrect. The system ensures that we do not get a hand up. All programs to help are generally cut off if you make the effort to work. You end up worse off. Programs that work simultaneously to help us get on our feet financially-and stay that way,with eligibility for healthcare-would benefit society and individuals all around. Sure,some people will never be willing to help themselves. MOST of us are willing and ready. We just have limitations that should be accommodated same as someone who needs a wheelchair or has to sit for work.

The mentally disabled want change. We want our self esteem back. We are exhausted trying to exist in a world that has no room for our limitations. Society needs to change its mindset. Job opportunities and training for those jobs should be a priority. Give a hand up and be surprised by how many actually prefer that to a handout.

Off

I don’t know how else to describe how I am feeling. I have a stomach ache and am itchy and twitchy. I went into town for the rest of my Clonodine. It does not give much relief,maybe needs to build up in my system? It does nothing for paranoia and racing thoughts. That and panic prevention were why I liked Xanax . It corrected what was wrong. Blanket ban policies are truly cruel.

It was a brief trip. Longest part other than driving was the stress of choosing trash bags. When you have to count every cent,it is a big deal. But I needed quantity and quality. Would have preferred contractor bags but pricier. Was $9 for a 10 pound bag of generic cat food which might last a week. Just soo much money stress ALL the time,can never breathe. I get so tired of telling my kid we don’t have the money for X,Y,Z.

Would be better to just be able to work. I want my self confidence back. I just want to be stable and not fall on my face. Last thing I need are more bad references for being unstable. Sucks to be a half competent worker but not be stable more than a couple of months. It would be nice if there were programs that help people with mental disabilities find work that fits within their limitations.

Almost time for Ben. That is its own anxiety. Hope his day was good.

I cooked fried chicken today. Tried to eat but not feeling food these days. Nervous stomach.

Day started wet and gloomy and cold. Now it is lightening up and 50 so my sensory overload is kicking in. I live for 7 p.m. when the sun starts to go down and dark starts to fall. Freedom from my daytime triggers-mail,phones,knocks,kid running in and out…Peace from the worst of the paranoia and fear.

I count the hours every single day. How I want out of this mental space. I yearn to feel safe and content.

Vitamin D

Dr office called. My vitamin D levels are severely low. Could explain many of my symptoms,including the worsened depression and anxiety. Supplements daily for 12 weeks.

But…nothing I can do about it til next Friday. No gas in the car to get to the pharmacy. No way to get Ben to his appt. I need $20 or a gas card desperately. Miracles don’t happen for me,though.

I am anxious,down,and soo cold today. Looking forward to finding out if low vitamin D is why I am so cold all the time. Would go for a walk and soak up some sun except this is day 4 with no sun. Frustration be thy name. All I wanna do.is fix things and move forward but am stuck in a holding pattern on so many fronts. Kinda makes me wanna scream just to vent my frustration.

Not even changed clothes today. Soo cold in this house. So much ambient noise of semi trucks and trash trucks and cats playing…so very paranoid and feeling unsafe.

4 days medicated but it feels like I am going backwards rather than starting to feel better. Frustrating.

Homelessness As An Escape?

Talked to landlord lady. She was so chill and kind about it. Yes,they are selling all the properties. But they have set July 1rst as the day to be out and we will get a great reference. So that’s better than instant homelessness.

Now what?

Next week I apply to housing. 6 week process. Waiting list. IF approved and I think they require 10 years good references. As if the trailer park slum lord would give anyone a good ref. Never late,never missed rent,caused no problems and he let us live there 7 years so how bad could we have been? But logic plays no role in reality. And we have covid gumming up everything so not getting my hopes up.

But yay to escaping my dad. Yay to getting back in town and having a shower again. (Not felt truly clean in 4 years with a bathtub)

I am terrified. Scared for my kid’s reaction. Anticipating dad’s anger because they’ll “have” to help us move. No,you don’t,butt out and you are off the hook.

I tried to apply for case management. The Medicare/Medicaid changes make me ineligible. I’m not disabled enough for the only other assistance agency. This is ridiculous. I am on.disability for conditions the insurance won’t even help with,ffs. So frozen in panic and frustrated.

Yet also a certain peace lingers. IF I can break free of my seasonal and panic,there is a clock on some of the situational,as well.

Even with section 8 housing,tho,I am going to need money to pay them as well as keep this place til we can move. Which brings on old and new utilities. Car registration is up March 31,phone goes back to monthly come May…heat is running$315 a month so I’d have to pay all this to keep new service…

What would be super nice if sis and mom offered us a sofa tour for a few months so I can save up a little. But no,they have a stoner friend living there and bro in law owns house and does not like me.

Why must everything be so damn hard? Why is there so little help for the poor and mentally disabled? I am not asking to be coddled. Just given a hand up so I can help myself. HAND UP. Not hand out. I did nothing wrong to cause a move.

I really wish I had a bf/husband/roommate at times. Help with this stuff that is sooo grueling for me because of my disabilities. But that is not a good reason to have people in your life. Besides,when in.my right mind,I am kind of big on doimg shit for myself.

It’s been 11 years though. I don’t need a relationship. I kind of want one. A good,healthy one,though.

Idk,I am in no shape to take on more sensory overload.

Almost time for Ben to get home. To tell or not. I wanna keep peace but with this gossipy place,someone else may say something and he will feel betrayed to be excluded.

Idk. But at least I faced my panic and sent that text and got proper information. I was brave. I think for the weekend I will recover from that bravery.