Daily Archives: February 12, 2013

I was so down last night, I went and curled up in bed at 7pm. Of course, the panic was so overwhelming I had to sneak into the Xanax stash. Which helped calm me, but my mind was still racing, going over the exchange with my mom. It’s always wise to review any conversation you have with her, just to prepare yourself in the event you displayed any weakness she might use against you at a later date. Like when I shared my medication problems with her and mentioned it’s not easy on me, trying to do everything myself while the donor gets to walk scot free. That will bite me on the ass later, no doubt.

I finally took 25 mg of Trazadone, because I was sinking into “do the world a favor and kill yourself” territory. That I had no desire to write and couldn’t anyway, because my mind was such a clusterfuck, made me even more depressed. Sleep was the only recourse. I felt bad because the trazadone started to kick in and my phone rang twice, and I knew it had to be my dad. He gets neurotic when I don’t answer the phone. But I was just too sedated to get up.

I woke up at 9:30, then again at midnight, then again at 2am, 4:40 am. Those are my nights, sleep and wake, rinse lather repeat. Is it any wonder I am cranky?

Woke to a ringing phone at 6:59 am.

Let it go to voice mail.

Then since I was already awake, checked voice mail. Glad I did.

My moms’ brother finally lost his six year battle to cancer and passed away. My aunt couldn’t get a hold of mom. I had to be the one to break the news to her. She fell apart.  And I got to feel like a fucking jerk for returning her lash out yesterday because obviously her world is far more sucky than mine.

The ironic thing? Today is my dad’s birthday, so instead of wishing him a happy birthday, I had to call and tell him about Jack’s death because he and Jack always got along.

Nice sense of humor, cosmos.

I then had to call R to explain why I wouldn’t be there. He sounded depressed and a little put out. How much of an asshole is put out by someone having a death in the family? Did he really think my mom would want to babysit on the day her brother passed? Really?

Now…when I should be sad…I am manic. I started writing and it’s going pretty well.

How fucked up is all this?

The cosmos has a sick twisted sense of humor.

The day started off with a bang. Like a bullet to the fucking head.

I went to drop my kid off at mom’s and it was all nice and cheery conversation. The hint was when she started with the “I don’t know why you have problems (with Spooky), she’s always so good for me and minds me so well.” That’s her MO, assault your parenting ability. It’s how she took over my sister’s son, by reducing my sister to an insecure wreck who just gave up. Now her kid is a spoiled self centered little inmate to be. That’s what my mom’s parenting does.

Then the witch blindsided me, screaming at me about the car I gave her that dad is storing at his place and how she doesn’t have the money to license it (but don’t go selling it, just store it indefinitely, even though it’s already been there three months). THEN I dared to speak up about how long it’s been there and that we just need to know if she still wants it, otherwise I’ll sell it for money for a new air conditioner…

and off the the races we went. “Now I know you and Spook need the money and I feel guilty, you bitch!”

She began screaming about what a “fucking bitch” I am. Yes, my mom called me a fucking bitch, multiple times. Then  she said, “You kiss your deadbeat son of bitch dad’s ass and you’re a fucking bitch to me!”

My dad may be many things but he’s never been a deadbeat.

By the time I left I was in tears, which I’m sure fortified satan’s soul. At one point she was saying she was sorry, then next sentence, launching back into “you’re a fucking bitch.” Then it was

I cannot believe I spawned from that woman.

Then again, I have seen myself before in her behavior and it scares me. Difference being, she thinks it’s normal to scream and curse people then expect them to hug her afterward. I think that’s mental illness and have spent 20 years pumping possibly lethal drugs into my body just to avoid being anything like her.

I went to the shop, face still streaked with tears, unable to make it stop because, lucky me, it’s also pms week and the hormones are free falling. R was interested all of one second, then launched into stuff about busted tvs and oh, yes, sooo much more important than me being upset, a song by Dire Straits that I just had to hear at THAT moment.

To call myself demoralized is an understatement.

My mood was down all day, my anxiety climbing the walls. I kept watching the clock, thinking I was in hell because time was moving so slow and all I wanted was to come home and lick my wounds. I couldn’t even talk to him about it, every time I tried, he deflected with something about the band Styx, a busted tv, or some task he needed me to do. (Is it just me or is becoming abundantly clear why this man and I did not work as a couple? I can’t compete with someone who’s in love with their own reflection.)

I told him I had an appointment at 3 so I could just leave.

He had the nerve to assume I’d be there tomorrow, even after the spar with my mom. Without a sitter,if her mood so deems it? Really dude? All you’re worried about is yourself? (Seriously, dude, what he “needed” me to do today took about 20 minutes, I spent the rest of the time surfing Reddit.)

I had a panic attack from hell just going to pick my kid up at my mom’s, not knowing what mode and mood she’d be in. She was thankfully on the phone with my sister’s friend Betty, who she has told me numerous times is more a daughter to her than I am. I mumbled an apology, because I was sorry for screaming back at her when I damn well know I am better than that, but I got my kid and I got out.

Now I am home…and the anger is boiling beneath my skin, at her, at R, at the futility of it all. I try to speak up and these people won’t listen to me. What recourse am I left except to shut them out of my life? If honesty doesn’t reach them, nothing will.

I am frustrated. I feel like I have an infection boiling inside me, only it’s just anger, blind white hot anger.

(And for anyone who’s wondering if I ever get sick of spewing my own “woe-is-me-verbal-vomit”, the answer is YES.)

Now my heart is pounding, and I feel so off kilter, I can’t focus on writing or watching tv or even playing a word game. I love my daughter but the way she defies me at every turn because I won’t say yes to everything like grandma…it all just adds up to this fire burning me alive, from the inside out. I could use a visit with the counselor, except she’s a horrible counselor, for me anyway.

I am hoping it’s just the med changes. Sooo hoping.

I am giving it another day or two with the Klonopin, but if this is how it’s gonna be, I’d just as soon not take anything for the anxiety as take pills that do nothing. This is stupid. I am two steps from screaming and yelling like a damn crazy person because every noise is like nails on a chalkboard.. The whole point of med changes is to make an improvement, not make things worse. I am losing faith in this current shrink.

Which isn’t saying much, cos I am also losing faith in myself.