Sadness Undertow

Not a great day but not awful. Had my.kid at the dr,again. Muscle tightness in.legs was bad,bloating was mad. But nothing awful happened. I wasn’t morose or crying. Heightened anxiety and panic but weaning myself off Xanax while I have enough left,I am bound to.lose what little peace I have. Yet again,I curse how ONE biased dr has total control.of my quality.of life.

I have just felt this endless undertow of sadness for months. In my Finch app,I described it as deep grief. What am I grieving? Loss of self? It is not a good place to occupy. Every fiber of my being wants to give up. Yet without any cause or change,I keep fighting. If that isn’t “pulling myself up by the boot straps”,what is?

I Want To Cry

I have done nothing all day. The pain in my ovary areas combined with the numbness and pins and needles spreading to my fingers has me feeling disconcerted and lousy.

I was basically told to learn to live with it. And it makes me want to cry. Not to be a whiner but the thought of physically feeling this way for the rest of my life,on top of the  crippling depression and anxiety…I wish I could just die instead. No one can run on empty indefinitely. And no one should have to live in pain because doctors are lazy and inept.

I have every intention of making an appt with the NP listed as my primary care even though I don’t trust her or have much faith in her. Maybe she will prove me wrong. But I cannot do anything til Tuesday and who knows how long til an opening. But if an actual doctor with a hospital full of labs and scans couldn’t figure it out in 6 hours…unlikely an NP in a small.office with 20 minute appts will do fuck all. That is just being realistic. But maybe it will be a step toward something or someone who can help. Not that I can  afford multiple trips to town while they figure it out.

Feeling very hopeless about the move,too. Now that imminent eviction isn’t the problem (supposedly,don’t trust those people)…it feels like I will never get out of this place. And without time constraint or formal eviction,I won’t stand a chance for assistance with first month and deposit on a new place. It feels hopeless. Not a relief,at all. Briefly,I had hope,even if it meant a homeless shelter. I mean,COME ON,how much unhappier am I expected to be? And I have the sunshine spewers in my head telling me to make the best of the situation. Living here makes me wish for death,how do I make that positive? I gave it 4 years. I TRIED to adapt and force myself to be content here. It just isn’t me,it is not true to who I am.

Crying seems appropriate when being told misery is your norm and you just gotta learn to live with it and have a positive attitude. There is NEVER going to be a day I embrace being in pain and consider it character building.

The world has become so hostile toward people with mental illness,I guess it makes sense the same disdain is shown for physical ailments.

I wish I could cry. But my body only allows that when I don’t want it. God forbid I should get even one cathartic stress relieving moment. Guess that would be coddling myself.

All I can focus on is bedtime. Moving around makes the stabbing pains and needles sensation worse. And I get nauseous and dizzy. And bump into stuff because I cannot feel my body. And trying to hold things and type with needly numb fingers is not working well. And the ovary pain is reticent of what I felt during labor. Moving makes me double over at random intervals. Not one fucking thing is going right for me but rather than show myself kindness…I have behavioral health nazis in my head telling me stop letting myself off the hook and push through the pain.

Squeeze

I woke 3 more times between 4 and 6:30. That last time,I was so filled with dread,I slid further under the covers and squeezed my eyes shut,counting backwards desperately. Too early to be awake on Saturday. It was a fail. And I had been lying flat with 4 cats on me for so long,I was stiff and hurting. So I got up with all the enthusiasm of one facing a firing squad.

Being trapped here by gas pricesI is crippling in a way no one understands. Beyond a gas station and post office (open 4 hours a day) there is nothing to do here. Everything is a 30 mile round trip. So Ben and I are stuck on weekends rationing fuel for the days he has dr or counseling appts. Trapped is kind of an understatement. Very frustrating and disheartening to not even be able to go grocery shopping and get out of the house.

Probably for the best since going out wreaks havoc on my anxiety and paranoia. Still…I cannot wait to move. Stressful as that is,I want out of here.

So now I am up,my bloated stomach and back are slowing ne down and keeping me still to hold off pain. And there is the mood lottery with Ben. And phone stalking by my dad. Yay weekend. I just want to go back to sleep and not feel sad. I am so tired of feeling sad. So very tired.

Never Enough

On overload,as usual these days. And a call then visit from my father has me feeling like my best is never enough. No matter how much I do…never enough.

Today,I was out the door before 8 a.m. so my kid could get breakfast before school. Came home. Worked up to clean clothes. Went to town mid panic attack and feeling unsafe. Walmart,Dollar Tree,Aldi,Family Dollar. Brief visit with mom and sis. Home. Carried it all in.

Did cat boxes. Did dishes. Swept. Washed,dried and folded a load of laundry. Did lots of self care app work.

Honestly,I did A LOT today. It just feels…not enough. And dad constantly asking if I have heard from housing or have a line on a new place every time we talk is just making it so much worse. They said 4-6 weeks for a reply. It has been 3 weeks.

Ran into landlordy lady today. This place sold,with 2 other properties but they put in the July 1rst out date in the contract. Now I live in fear of this person showing up wanting to nose around. The stress never stops coming.

One of our cats clawed out through the AC accordion part and not seen her since. That worries me. As does rehoming these fosters. Dad hasn’t even offered to help and I cannot even afford gas for all our appointments so…more stress. He likes being in our business and critiquing but forget being helpful or even positive.

My anxiety is to the point I have developed a twitch in my left eye.

Not even TV is helping get me out of this dreadful mental space.

Movement just results in back pain and random ovary stabs.

Breathing exercises make me more anxious. Science says the opposite so I gotta question myself. Must mean I am doing it wrong. One size must fit all.

I look forward to bed. My brain is exhausting.

Bad Mood Trickle Down

It started with extreme disappointment that I woke up,even from a not so pleasant dream.

Then I asked AGAIN for my kid to bring me his laundry (third time asking GAH!!!) And he just sat there staring ahead and saying nothing. So that infuriated and frustrated me. Then the cat accidentally scratched his mouth and he started sobbing like a toddler. I said I am sure that hurt but if you won’t talk or cooperate,you need to get out of my room. He stormed off.

I waited 5 minutes,realized what a jerk move it was to take a bad mood out on him then apologized to the door with him screaming leave me alone. Kid holds a grudge like nothing else yet wants absolute forgiveness for his wrongs. Hypocrisy,a lovely trigger for me.

Tried eating breakfast and got swarmed by cats. Climbing me,climbing and knocking stuff down. I grabbed the fan before it fell and it came apart and the cats were still climbing so I blew up. I love my cats but this is too many,I gotta rehome the fosters. It is time. But that means dealing with my das. Also watching a show with multiple awful infuriating characters so that too is triggering rage and misery.

Once,I would have stopped watching the show. Thanks to “behavioral health” I now feel obligated to ‘tough it out’ rather than disconnect from my triggers. No self coddling. I HAVE to deal with triggers and change my views. Be a grown.up. Be tougher. No letting myself off the hook because it is not mental illness anymore,just poor behavior.

I hope the person (s) who coined behavioral health and made it a thing are eaten by wild boars. EVIL people.

I just feel…fatal today. Like everything is awful and hopeless. I don’t like it. And the harder I try to tell myself NOT to feel this way the more negative I feel.

And the cats are batting around jingly balls and climbing and making noise and it is like a million nails on a chalkboard through a stack of Marshall amps. I just want to stomp and scream and bawl for it to stop. The fact I just did that a little,eh, my behavior is poor. But if kinda helped to vent a tiny bit so maybe it is about balance more than perfection.

I am not a fan of feeling this way at all.

Muddled

I was in the middle of a dream I don’t quite remember,just recall bad juju….And STILL I was disappointed and sad when I woke from it.

So I jump into an episode of The Good Doctor and it is about a single mom with lady parts cancer. Amd the dr said it had been there for years and would have been caught early if she had had regular pap smears.

I haven’t had one since my kid was a newborn. All my symptoms of late…Panic is setting in. Worse than panic,tho,is that things are so awful with depression and money and my kid…would death really be awful? No. The awful thing would be trying to muster up the will to fight and keep living this shit show.

Anxiety and depression will be my ultimate cause of death,no matter what really kills me.

Why Won’t You Bond With Me,Blogosphere????

As a writer,I find myself disgusted and defeated with how little interest there is in my blog. No,I am not remotely interesting. That is why it is in the mental health niche. Surely SOMEONE must relate????

Worse,this is year 11 doing this blog and I have ONE loyal follower/friend. One! After 11 years!

What the fuck am I doing wrong? I don’t need popular. I NEED connection. I NEED loyalty. I crave interaction. Comments are like unicorns even when I get likes.

I know,needy. Pathetic. Have some damn dignity and accept you suck,your writing sucks,and no one cares. And stop with the (seeming) self pity.

I am frustrated,damn it.

Yes,I am too wordy. People hate long posts. And I seem trapped in a cycle that never changes,it must just be my lousy personality. And hello,Niki,no one can follow your unfocused ranting.

Honestly,I would be ok with even 3 ride or die readers. I make do with the limited shallow response I get on social media. I am not being unrealistic. Just some loyalty.

I am a mess right now. Another 2 a.m. wake up. Twisting stomach issues. Heart pounding from everything on my plate. Had another rocky day with Ben. He said I only stay around as his mom “for the money”. What money? I get food stamps. That is it. Omg,the child is a hate spewing machine. And I am the sole target.

I just don’t get why I can’t connect on wordpress. I try to follow and read other blogs. Comment. I have tried brief gratitude posts. Inspirational.memes. I tried humor. Why won’t people LIKE me?

Yeah. I never cared about that. My mental state is pretty dire that this bothers me.

Just so frustrated.

G

In Hell

Tension with my kid last night. Tension this morning. He even tried convincing me other kids get 22 hours screen time daily AND they all text and call at 11 p.m. This morning he claimed he does not feel safe here and only the phone makes it better. I was waiting for accusations against me. Instead he claims it is this town. Of 400 people. With almost no crime,let alone violence. 7 years in a sleazy trailer park,never an.issue. And not like I can’t relate. I don’t feel emotionally safe here,thanks to my dad.

I think it is time to hospitalize her. Nothing is improving. If the thought distortion is this bad,nothing I do will help. I will speak with the counselor Tuesday.

I had to take 20mg of melatonin to sleep last night,my anxiety was so high,the thought loops so bad. Still didn’t keep me down. Did help me sleep til after 6,only had to force myself up from.the grog. My gut is in knots. I am so damn sad. Like soul weeping sad. To see how things with my kid have disintegrated…breaks my heart. Then the incident still haunts me,tho not for the reasons you might think. And shit with my dad. No money.

I held up ok for a few days. Guess the low was due. Just gotta keep going. Very hard when you live in a hellish state of hostile confusion. I am too exhausted to be mad at my kid. I am just…broken and sad. What is normal 12 year old pushback?I Idk.

God,I hope he is ok at the bus stop. Not gotten a call yet but I made him mad saying I was taking the phone for the weekend for yelling at me so probably would not call ne. He says we “all” are why he is so angry and unhappy. Maybe 3 people he likes. Last night he got pissed at the counselor for calling him on his behavior and made a rather gruesome comment. Not unusual with my gallows sarcasm but definitely a flaming red flag for “normal” people. Kid scares me a little. Think on some level he always has,so much rage and zero empathy or impulse control. Apparently not a phase.

I’m so rattled and sad,I doubt I will get much done today. Deer in headlights time. Stare at the phone like a ticking bomb,waiting for his next drama. I am trying so hard to be compassionate but the child is plain mean. The kinder I am,the angrier and nastier he gets.

Guess this is where I finally have to “grow up” and learn to stand up for myself beyond a sarcastic quip and avoidance.

I just want to cry. I thought I might get a break,Ben wanted to stay at my sister’s a night to hang with his cousin. My sister never said yes or no,just dodged it. And it is because no one wants the risk of Ben’s SI or suicide attempts,tho the counselor said those were not actual attempts.

I just want to feel at peace for a few hours.

Utter Lack Of Interest

I will be the first to admit,I bore easily. Like,pathologically so. I frequently catch myself thinking,omfg,this person is as interesting as watching paint dry. Talking or writing,I am just not interested in what they have to say. Not being snotty,just how I feel. BUT in my right mind,I try to focus and interact and make socially appropriate noises.

During a crippling depression,though…

This lack of interesting is on overdrive. Just basic interaction feels like soooo much work. And let’s face it,listening really isn’t that taxing. Boring,sure,but not excrutiating. Yet right now…it kinda is.

And I am DESPERATE to connect with people so feeling this way is doubly painful. I just.am.not.interested. I’ve tried talking to 3 different FB friends in an effort to not allow The Incident to lock me back in my fearful withdrawal. Sooo bloody boring. Well,2 were,but they were half ass hitting on me and that bores me in itself. The other is a truly nice guy who I have common ground with but…I don’t like me right now so the part of me that connects just isn’t there. I am not interesting,not happy,not…me.

Phone conversations with my dad are soul crushing. He talks so much I barely need to but still,just making hmmm uh huh noises is exhausting. I don’t fucking care about gas prices. Troops in Russia,huh? Your neighbor did wh-wait,I really give zero fucks. And I don’t give any about things that usually interest me,either.

I am a hollow shell at best and a confused kicked puppy at worst. This is not an attitude. This is my mind,obliterated by depressive symptoms. This is how I feel. And frankly,for another 6 weeks,it will likely remain my baseline. Not even a plethora of meds touch my seasonal depression. This is survival mode.

Quite frankly I give zero fucks about that,too. I am not all that interested in myself. You sure blog a lot about yourself not to be self obsessed,geesh.

It’s just purge. Verbal vomit for virtual times.

6 weeks,mark my words. 6 weeks from now I will likely undergo a “magical” transformation mentally. And no,not actual magic,I have not lost touch with reality. Magic is just the only word to describe the shifts in mentality season change brings.

Until then,I remain…a disinterest husk of humanity.

My Soul Is Bleeding

Yes,more woe is me. How the fuck else do you describe a black soul crushing depression that has you feeling sad sack-y? Not going to spew rainbows. The thing is,even in this bleak blackness,I feel certain things in my mind clicking into place. So I AM working on myself and seeing some patterns of behavior I gotta own and change.

Unfortunately, meaningful change will not likely take place until this winter depression lifts. 2 more fucking months of crippling sadness. And it is this way even fully medicated. When I say the seasons change me,it’s not hyperbole. Weather seems to flip switches in me. I am not refusing to make an effort,just keeping my expectations realistic.

Stayed up til 11 p.m.,had a couple of fruity drinks. It was a nice respite from anxiety and I slept through til 3:30. Tried to go back to sleep but the racing thoughts and panicky bolts in my chest made it mire frustrating than fruitful. Back to ruminating and beating up.on myself. Obviously the problem is me. All these people I view as shallow and self centered are leading normal lives. A couple after totally turning my life and mind inside out. I don’t believe they are better than me,at all. Cruel fact if life is shallow usually wins out over depth. Demoralizing as fuck but I gotta block that shit out. It’s me versus me,I am my only competition.

I just want to feel like myself again. I am sooo good on my own. Letting people in is what causes me to come undone every fucking time. So maybe time I learn to fake the shallow thing and make some friends to avoid becoming so isolated.

Guy on FB just got an AI “girlfriend” to text with. I am keeping that in mind. People are exhausting,could be a viable option. Yeah,I am that desperate for connection. Two months from now I will look back at all these suffer-y posts and roll my eyes in disgust.

This is not me. This IS my disorder. And it needs to fuck off out of here.