Daily Archives: March 9, 2013

Frayed- possibly gross out pic involved


This was always one of my favorite scenes from Nightmare on Elm Street 3, where Freddy used the kid’s veins to make him into a marionette.

Those ripped out frayed nerves and veins and arteries are how I am feeling today. Every noise has me on edge. My kid is driving me nuts. The closer it gets to time for the birthday party, the worse it gets. Plus my dad is supposed to be stopping by which is an every weekend sort of fraying of the nerves because he can never give a time he will be here, it’s just always when he gets around to it which kind of amounts to my life being put on hold and relaxation a joke.

I used this picture not to be morbid or gross or broadcast that I am a fan of cheesy 80′s horror flicks.

It accurately depicts how I view my disorders. Like something else is in control, influencing my thoughts and behaviors, and I am but a puppet with my strings being pulled. Some say this is a cop out but altered mental status is no joke. It is not simply “bad personality.”

Sometimes my moods get black and my anger soars. I hate people and I can find ten reasons that it’s all consuming anger.

Mood shift and that same person can become an object of my affection or someone I want to spend time with.

The Donor spent a lot of time trying to convince me this is just my personality. I have been in therapy and getting shrunk for so long, though, and have asked point blank if any of things are manifestations of like borderline disorder. I am told that these are staples of bipolar, depression, and anxiety/panic disorder. So I do NOT believe this is simply a mercurial personality.

I believe when my moods shift, when I cycle, when my thinking is distorted by panic and paranoia, I do become quite a different person. And it can all turn on a dime. People have witnessed just how quickly it can happen. The shrinks tell me it does not happen this way with bipolar, but being cyclothymic and shrinks not really having much experience with this form of bipolar…I tend to disagree with them as I am living proof it does happen exactly that way and I have witnesses who have seen it.

Then there is the panic and anxiety, a constant in my life, some days manageable, some days unbearable.


My heart is pounding. Every noise has me jumping and my ears cringing. My kid keeps letting out blood curdling screams every time I say the word no. “No, don’t strangle the cat.” “No, don’t play with the dvds.” “No, you cannot throw things at me and get away with it.” So I am quadrupled on tictacopin and it’s doing shit.

I feel like a rubber band pulled so tight I could snap if one more iota of pressure is placed on me.

I feel like I am hanging on by a rope so old and frayed that the last piece is threatening to give way.

I feel like every nerve ending is on fire and sticking out of my flesh and subject to being poked with every noise.

I am hoping I can keep it together for the party, but as I have become crampy and teary it indicates pms has come on and this coupled with my panic…It could not be a good thing.

It sucks because aside from the distorted thought caused by the anxiety, The cymbalta is actually helping with my mood. That combined with the end of seasonal affect disorder. Were she to put me back on xanax, I am betting I could get a good six,. seven month stretch of not wanting to die, until the next seasonal affective bout.

All my hopes hinge on a doctor being willing to listen and put aside her own bias, though. And the fact she keeps canceling my appointments does not give me hope that my well being is of particular concern to her.

For once, I am actually looking forward to seeing the counselor Monday afternoon. Because things have just gotten so out of control, my thoughts so far askew, that my functionality has taken a severe nosedive and people are taking note of my descent from stability to flying off the handle.

It makes me wonder if I will ever be more than my disorder to people. If they really cared, couldn’t they try to look beneath it all and see there is good inside me? I am always lectured on accepting the faults of others and yet I have a mental illness no one can seem to accept.

It’s almost comical in how idiotic it is.

Choosing Doesn’t Make it Easier

I made the call a couple of days ago that I would go into town to do a bit of shopping today. Of course, that doesn’t mean that I’m happy about it — if anything, my brain is doing its best to protest every which way possible. I’ve got to deal with the parking structure, I’ve got to deal with one-way traffic getting in and out of town, and there will be people… and oh yes, it’s clothing shopping, which I disliked even when I was stick tiny. Still, I know that I will probably feel better for having done it and having done more with my weekend than curling up in a bathrobe, but that doesn’t make it any more attractive from this preceding vantage.

Ah well, worst comes to worst, I can reward myself in the wool shop. If I manage to survive that long. *smiles wanly*


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Jumpy much?

Survived the day. Only to come home to an unfamiliar person next door. New neighbor? I have NO idea. I know there was a lot of noise, as they were scrapping the empty unit out for junk. I kept post looking out the window, absolutely paralyzed by the noise.

House cleaning was…house cleaning. A vile necessary evil, which got me a step closer to buying my kid’s Easter. Every time I clean for his wife I am confuzzled by the edict “clean the window sills and dust the picture frames”. People have energy to fuss about such things, really? I’m lucky if my kid and I make it out the door with our hair brushed and WINDOW SILLS BEING CLEAN are a big deal? I am such a defective, apparently.

At the shop, R was telling me about his middle daughter handing him five hundred books for “overage on the wedding” and when he refused it, she said, “You didn’t raise slackers, take the money.” Which of course fed his ego to no end. And while I know not everything is a dig at me, it still felt like one  because it made me think about the people who have helped me out financially over the years and I STILL haven’t been in a position to repay them. I feel like such an utter waste of fucking space. He didn’t say it, but I still felt it, and I wonder: IS it just me? Or am I just making a preemptive strike because I KNOW this is how people like him view me?

I admit it, I have fucked up ad nauseum. I have made debts I couldn’t cover and still count. But I am trying so very hard to be different, to be better. Why doesn’t it seem to count for shit?

This is one of bad effects of being off Xanax. I know it might seem like I use it as a crutch, but I really don’t. I do have a guilt complex from hell, my mother being the travel agent for guilt trips and all…But every time I cut myself an ounce of slack, it seems something pops up to remind me I am inept, a loser, a waste of space. This manifests as paranoid anxiety, and it is living hell.

At one point today, I was actually thinking that I am okay if I die right now because face it, I have done NOTHING with my life except prove to be a drain on society.

I remind myself that I have been part of bringing a wonderful little person into the world…but then my brain says SO FUCKING WHAT, YOUR REPRODUCTIVE ORGANS DID THEIR JOB JUST LIKE THOSE OF EVERY HUMAN WHO HAS A KID, BIG FUCKING DEAL!

It’s like for some reason, I can’t cut myself any slack. Because I don’t believe that others do. I KNOW they talk about me behind my back, pondering how a woman gets to be 4o years old and have a kid and still can’t pull her shit together enough to GET A JOB.

I am sure most would say I am being paranoid.

I have let go of my paranoia often enough to have it bite me on the ass to not care what *most* would say.

I feel so scattered, so jumpy, so paranoid and on edge… It’s difficult to breathe.

Rs granddaughter’s birthday party is tomorrow and I got a gift and I plan on taking Spook… But I told R earlier that I was nervous because there would be people there I have never met before. And he said “I don’t know why you’d be nervous.”

It hit me like a blow to the solar plexus to realize just how alone I am. No one GETS the anxiety disorder or panic. I have told R no fewer than five times this week how high strung I am because of the shrink taking away my xanax. and every time he asks, “Why, what;s wrong.” Because, ya know, remembering what I have already told him half a dozen times would be too fucking hard.

And R has voiced numerous times due to our past relationship about how he could handle me now if I had been that way THEN…But in the last few weeks he had made allusions to how I haven’t really changed that much.

THAT is a mortal wound. Because my personality and mentality and maturity HAVE changed drastically.

But I am defined only by my disorders and how they might effect others.

Bloody hell.

I drove my car all day feeling like something was “wrong” even though I checked all fluids and the gauges were normal.

The other night, when I told my kid she had to stop wallowing the girl kitties because they “had babies in their bellies”… my kid asked me if I had babies in my belly.

And the stupid paranoia and panic receptors went into hyperdrive.

Because even at my thinnest, I have had tactless rude people ask if I am pregnant.

And I became convinced someone was talking about how fat I am and that I look preggo and they were telling as  much to my kid.

With two preggo cats and my edict, it makes sense she would ask what she did.

BUT with my psychotically paranoid brain dictates otherwise. It MUST be nefarious. It MUST be insulting.

FUCK MY BRAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i love my daughter but sometimes…I swear I am actually okay with dying. Because I believe she would be better off without me in her life, dragging her down, via the judgments of others who just don’t get mental illness.

And then paranoid brain starts telling me I’m not mentally ill, I am just weak and lazy and I deserve whatever scorn comes my way…

I’m tired.

Sooo very tired.

Why won’t my brain shut up?Or at least give me permission to cut myself some slack since I am trying so very hard to do better?

Wait… noise outside. Must go check it out…Someone could be flattening my tires or busting my windshield.

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME FFS?????????????????????????????????????????