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.

Let’s NOT Come On Feel The Noise

Noisy morning,seems work is continuing across the street for the new doublewide going on. Loud machinery and people are the bane of my existance.

My state of not wanting to sleep 24-7 has left the building. I got more melatonin and benadryl,it seems to half ass work since I took a 2 week break.

It’s just hard to keep up that high will to live thing when month after month,you have no money for stuff you gotta have. I am supposed to get school clothes,school supplies,and monthly pet supplies on $40. How the fuck. And my family’s not helping. It is demoralizing. Everyone thinks it’s as simple as get a job,make more money. My disability has to cooperate. And the system is not cooperative,it is feast or famine,fuck in between. I feel utterly hopeless,moneywise. I try not to let it get me down but it does. Unfortunately,money is just one facet. Simply being unable to feel happy is the true crippling thing. Depression need not be 24-7 tears and sleep. Just feeling low and not being able to shake it is every bit as debilitating as what they would call major depressive disorder.

Yesterday was an exercise in bravery. I let my kid convince me to let her friend go to town with us as part of her bday gift. I have no problem with him/her being a trans. My problem is his parents drive a Lexus and gave him his own credit card,so he has zero concept of not being well off. He just kept putting food in the cart because she ate it at his house…geesh,I am on a budget. And the kid does not listen. Was so stressful,I spent the whole evening recovering from that 2 hour outing.

I did not sleep well. I slept about an hour each in 4 cycles. Why I cannot stay down is beyond me. Something off about me. I had a 5 hour energy shot…and went to sleep. It ain’t supposed to work that way,ffs.

At least Spook’s mood has been on an upswing. I live in fear of a slip cos that is when the bad thoughts return.

My stomach is on fire,all the noise has me so anxious abd stressed. I could so use a Xanax the size of a hubcap.

Lies,Lies,Lies

Sans my normal benadryl and melatonin cocktail…I have gotten 5 hours of sleep in 2 days. Today I was awake til 5 a.m. and it was a bitch dragging my ass out of bed. Lucky I did. My kid was so wrapped up some app that hides the time,she nearly missed the bus. She actually got mad AT ME for pointing out how late it was. How dare I try to keep her on schedule! Running on so little sleep,I really did not welcome her sass rage. 4 more days and she is all mine for 11 weeks. I would prefer a dirt nap,please. This tween thing has made her so hard to like. You love your kid unconditionally but when all they ever do is mouth off,yell,and have rage fits…like is difficult for some of us parents lacking a mooshy ‘my kid can do no wrong’ center.

I was not able to nod off again after my berating from Tweenzilla. Wanted to. Couldn’t.

Soo I forced myself to get moving and mow the lawn because the doctors say moving around will actually give you more energy.

LIES,LIES,LIES.

It worked last week but I was also getting more sleep. Today I tired out in the first 5 minutes and took a break. In fact,I worked in brief spurts and took many,many rest breaks. Mowing can be hard work and make you sore. So little sleep and starting out sore and tired made it all much worse.

3/4 done I hit an absolute wall. I needed a cool down bath and comfy pants rather than shorts with grass spraying my bare legs and making me itchy. The bath helped get me out of sweaty itch mode but playing Twister to get in the tub exhausted me more than energizing me.

I stopped long enough to eat half a Sloppy Joe since I was having the rubbery legs and dizzy thing I get when I do not for long periods. Then back to being the lawn ranger. I am the ONLY person on my entire street who uses a push mower and my lawn is the biggest. Not that I know how to use a riding lawn mower but my fucking dad gas FOUR of them. Not once has he offered to loan me one. Such an asshole. He even drove by twice while I was on rest breaks and started in on how I was resting more than mowing.

Fuck off,old man. His neighbor is dating a black man so dad,as usual,insisted on sharing his offensive,bigoted views. I called him a racist motherfucker and he said,oh,well. Like he is not just ok being a racist ass,but proud of it. How am I related to this man?????

I kept taking breaks in mowing but eventually got it done. As I was enduring the noisy,mind numbingly boring chore,I thought,Damn,this is so basic you could do it in your sleep. Which lead to the thought,oh man,why can’t zombies be real. The mindlessly shamble constantly,they would make excellent lawncare help! Yep,I really do have such thoughts.

After the mowing,I vegetated in front of the tv and fan. After Spook got home,and mad at me again for not being able to guess a song (on account of me not being,ya know,psychic!), I let her sulk off to her room with the phone. And using a think i can,think i can mantra,I managed,with some Dash Radios The Strip hairmetal blasting on bluetooth headphones,to face down…dirty dishes. God,I hate dishes. But Spook did them two times before (to get something she wanted,not to be nice) so it was my turn. And I had to rewash half of the stuff she did anyway. She refuses to use warm or hot water so things still feel greasy.

Music really helped get me moving. Love my hair metal,takes me back to better mental health days. I was fired up enough to take out trash,start a load of wash,and make a meatloaf. Unfortunately,because my Xanax is gone and yet my anxiety continues to riot,I only managed a half hour of music then had to drop the noise. It is so fucking weird how something fires up your mood and energy…causes crippling anxiety to metastasize. Not a fan.

My kid is on a social media mission in an effort to get her friend’s attention about the sleepover tomorrow night. She is pissed at me because I will not let her go until I speak with an adult. I am not blindly taking Spook’s word,plus she cannot even give me a name,an address,a phone number. This friend’s mom texted Spook’s phone. I was never shown the text so Idk what is going on. It all sounds fishy. She can just be pissed off.

I am ready for bed and not yet 8 p.m. Yet exhausted as I am,my brain is totally awake with zero sleepiness. And it sucks.

Because,more lies,lies,lies from the professionals,leading you to believe long term insomnia can ever get you ‘caught up’ on rest. Not really how it works.

Hopefully I do get to sleep tonight and have happy,awesome dreams about headbanging,lawnmowing zombies. That would be sweet.

Turn Down The Volume

I have often compared the noise in my head and my rioting anxiety as being amplified through a huge stack of Marshall amps. So noisy,so loud,racing at me so fast and furious…how can I think clearly? How can I turn off the panic receptors and quiet the racing thoughts?

I am super sensitive to noise of any sort. People who drive by with car stereos thudding make my skin shrivel. Shrill screams have me cringing and covering my ears. Knocks on the door,ringing phone,lawnmowers,barking dogs…It is not ambient noise for me. The volume maxed out at 10 then someone cranked it to 20.

I try to use logic and mindfulness.

But much like many peoples’ involuntary response to nails on a chalkboard,my panic receptors go off that way constantly. Just the cats climbing on boxes gets my heart racing and my ears cringing.

All this on top of my racing thoughts means much of my life is spent teetering on the edge of my circuits being overloaded.

Yes,I breathe. Yes,I count. Yes,I visualize stop signs and repeat soothing mantras. None of which dulls the sensation that my skin is crawling off my bones.

I soldier on but my quality of life is diminished beyond words.

I even tried exercise which the so called experts claim lowers anxiety and boosts energy. So why does it not work for me?

What 25 years of doctors,nurses,meds and therapy have drilled into me is that obviously,my personality is flawed and I just prefer misery. Is it any wonder I have lost faith,and trust,in that whole program? Now,all those people terrify me. How do you know who I am after an hour long appointment and some paperwork? Psych care here has become a drive thru process and if you do not improve quickly,you are a malingerer. That is totally an unfair assessment after a single appointment with a psych nurse. I never had actual m.d.s question the validity of my illness. 3 psych nurses,though,and all of them have treated me with skepticism and dismissal.

I know the world does not have a mute button. I have to learn to cope better with these triggers.

I just think it would be far less complex if the physical symptoms of panic were treated with the severity they deserve.

But left to psych nurses,I am sure they would just accuse me of wanting stomach aches,hives,and sweat pouring down my sides.

How educated people could be so cruel and ignorant boggles my mind.

And I am never gonna stop wishing for a volume control on all the noise triggers around. Hope is what keeps me going,no matter how far fetched.

The Sound Of Anxiety

I broke down and took a Xanax as the anxiety trampled my tolerance and resolve.

The cats are climbing and running,creating more noise than I realized possible.

My dad called and said they would be coming to get my trash at some point. Which set off my panic receptors and a stress stomach ache. I had 2 peaceful days without a call. Dunno why he cannot just leave me alone for more than 2 day stretches. He does not call my sister that way. Ffs,I am 48 years old and rely on him for nothing. It feels smothering. Like he does not trust me to not go off the deep end with my kid so he keeps calling to check. I would call that panic induced paranoia except for the parental conference held behind my back when I was pregnant. Debating whether I could handle being a parent with my ‘issues’. Still insulting 13 years later. I have done 11 years as a single mom in spite of my issues.

Cripes,the cats are at it again,climbing boxes. Claws on cardboard is worse than nails on a chalkboard.

Waiting for that dreaded knock on the door by the gloom mongering father. It really ties me in knots,no matter the state of housekeeping. The man is a walking anxiety trigger. And waiting for that knock has me in a perpetual holding pattern. Idk why he cannot let me alone.

I can hear my heart pounding in my ears. Anxiety is deafening. Crippling coupled with the distorted depressive thoughts.

Xanax is helping but being rid of my dad would be a huge relief.

I wish I knew how to cope better.

So…Much…Noise

Two posts, one day, what a flood poster I am. Oh, well, venting is needed.

Since my kid smashed the tablet and has continually lied, she’s been grounded. Throw in the head lice, and I am STILL finding nits, which means another treatment and all bedding washed and floors vacuumed…

She never ever stops talking. MOM MOM MOMMY MUM MUM MORGUE MOM MOM MUM MUM. She’s a non cartoon version of Family Guy’s Stewie. And much as I love her and hard as I try…I can’t change who I am, who I was before she was born.

Too much noise, especially incessant noise, is a trigger. It sets off the worst of my anxiety and panic, it upsets my equilibrium, and I get headaches and my patience is nil. It would be better if the child would ever listen to me and mind. I’ve explained my noise sensitivity over and over, explained that mom asking for ten or twenty minutes of peace and quiet is not neglect or abuse…She just doesn’t get it. Unless it’s someone else bugging her while she is watching a show or playing with friends, then it’s a national tragedy.

It’s not been a month yet school has been out and even without her revolving door of friends…I feel like my brain is climbing out of my skull, desperate to flee the scene of all the noise. Mind you, it’s not exclusive to her. I have this issue with traffic, crowded stores, even cookouts with more than 5 people present. Noise just lands me face down in the anxiety gutter. I’ve tried to explain it to her, to my family, to friends…No one gets it. And I’ve read enough of others’ blogs to know that I am not alone in my noise sensitivity. It’s hellish to not be able to handle standard issue white noise life delivers. The McMuggles think I am a wimp, putting on an act, being a crybaby.

Oddly, these are the same people with their own triggers. For R it’s heights and he avoids them but for whatever reason, that’s okay. My sister is scared of storms and hordes up in the basement with her cats every time there’s thunder or lightning. My stepmonster hates snakes and fears them. My kid has a phobia of being alone and not having friends, it scares her. WE ALL HAVE OUR ISSUES.

My question is….WHY IS IT OKAY FOR THEM TO CLING TO THEIR ISSUES/PHOBIAS WHICH REALLY DON’T AFFECT THEM LIVING A NORMAL LIFE…Yet I have physical reactions to my triggers but I am supposed to suck it up, snap out of it, get over it, grow up. ???WTF is that?

So, yeah, her never ending chatter and refusal to even give me ten minutes’ peace has me on edge. I think it’s legitimate and well explained. Though 9 more weeks of it is daunting. Still, after the tablet smash and all the lies (she kept lying to me today about stupid shit)…I am sticking to her grounding even if it punishes me as much as it attempts to discipline her. Her added lies earned her 2 more days grounding and if she keeps it up…it will keep adding up. She claims to be “scared” to tell the truth. I haven’t so much as swatted her butt in a year. I may raise my voice after telling her to do/not do something multiple times and being ignored…I may ground her from her bike or friends…But I am not abusive. She is manipulative. And it stems from the way my stepmonster basically yells at her but no amount of trying to reason with that woman works. So I end up looking like the monster. Yay.

Dad asked Spook today if she wants to come stay 4 days with them in July for their church’s summer camp and the minute he said ‘you can play with other kids’ she was all about it. Which has to make you wonder just how scared she is of her step grandma if she wants to spend 4 days there with them. My kid is a conundrum. Then, aren’t we all.

Aside from the rampaging nerve ending devouring anxiety due to too much noise…My mood held up pretty well today. I spent hours texting my sister. Of course, since I am normally introverted and don’t text, no doubt her and mom will think I am drunk. Dumbasses can’t grasp bipolar to save their lives. Some days…most days…I am stuck inside my own head thanks to the depression. Occasionally I have a good day where I kind of want to talk to others, even if by text. Nature of the bipolar beast.

Okay, that’s all she wrote. Feel free to leave feedback in the comments, let me know how excessive or loud noise impacts your life and mental health. I know I’m not alone, but occasionally, it’s nice to have it confirmed. And even if noise isn’t your trigger…feel free to chime in, too.

Love hearing from anyone who cares enough to comment. No, it’s not ego or being a ‘like button’ whore. I just like knowing my writing resonates. If it didn’t, during my black depressions, I’d probably kill this blog and delete it. It’s YOU guys who keep me writing when you let me know my writing has struck a chord.

Two sporks of fortitude for anyone who read this entire post. I do babble but it comes from a good place..Ok, nothing good about depression or anxiety but it comes from a genuine place. Being real and telling the truth about myself are all I have to offer.

That and wicked sarcasm.

Bundle of grrrrrr

My kid is playing with plastic toys and babbling.

Every tiny sound resonates in my head like a marching band.

My ears feel like they are bleeding, as if every sound is a bbq skewer being jabbed into my ear.

It is bright and sunny out.

Which is making my head feel like someone is sticking shards of glass into my brain.

GRRRRRR.

I hate anxiety. I hate feeling on the edge of panic 24-7.

Why can’t I work past it, get over it? I am told if I were a stronger person with a stronger character, then I would be able to tackle and obliterate the anxiety.

Of course, that was on some early morning infomercial hocking some cd/book system for controlling anxiety.

Crock

of

shit.

My mood isn’t that bad. I really don’t want to do cartwheels but I’m  not down in the dumps,either.

But I am a bundle of jumpy nerves and I have NO reason why.

Makes me wanna scream GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR at the top of my lungs.

Put a dimmer switch on the sun, give me a volume button to control ambient noise, and gimme a xanax the size of a hubcap I can just lick like a salt wheel and I will be fine.

Ya know I really thought by age 40 I’d have outgrown or worked thru the panic stuff.

Proves the adage “if you think, you stink.”