Daily Archives: March 12, 2013

Punygrump Continued (Now With a Side of Anxious!)

I’m still feeling fairly puny today, and it comes with a bonus dose of the shakes. Well, tremors, I guess; it’s not severe, but it is slightly annoying. Add in a dose of out-of-nowhere anxiety of a low grade, and I’m not that impressed. I was slapped with a wave of dread earlier, and the only thing I can think of that could have triggered it was (ironically) opening up an article on managing anxiety. The wave itself was your generic ‘You’ve done something wrong and there will be consequences!’ Well no, I’ve not done anything brain. I’ve sat here and had a coffee. I’ve sat here and started sorting through my work pile. But that’s the problem with that kind of intrusive thought — it invites you to ruminate at length to try and figure out what you could have possibly done. And as the article suggests, that sort of thinking is a self-fulfilling prophecy; one can always find something that fits into that box, and thereby justifying the intrusive thinking. Bad brain, no cookies for you!

I definitely need to keep the anxiety at bay this week, seeing how I see my psychiatrist next week. It’s so easy for me to make myself sick thinking about medical appointments, which is beyond ridiculous. I absolutely do not understand why my body and brain completely shut out my attempts to reason when it gets into that state. I do try to reason and breathe and think soothing thoughts, but it still ends up with dry heaving as I get into the car if I’m lucky (and vomiting if I’m not). Maybe it ties into some subconscious issue with the fact that I feel medical professionals are overly dismissive of me because I am not super-demonstrative screaming and drama-caterwauling to make my points? It’s definitely a piece of my psyche I need to pick apart and try to find a good logic behind; that might give me the tools to stop it from being such a painful and destructive thingie.

For now though, I’m going to take a deep breath, stretch, and try to not let my brain drag me down into the dumps. I still need to go over my notes so that I can try to get the psychiatrist to work on things besides the core bipolar… but yeah, that can definitely wait until later.

<3

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Spew, paranoia, panic, oh my

My kid started making like Linda Blair from the Exorcist Sunday night. Then came the fever. I have never done so much laundry in my life. She was a fountain. Oddly, I quit taking the stupid Tic tac o pin, and while my anxiety and panic have been sky high, being puked on didn’t make me spaz out aggressively like ya know, someone cutting in front of me or staring at me in the store. Connected? I think so.

Her sickness continued into yesterday so I had to cancel my counseling appt even though I had looked forward to it all week, cos let’s face it, I am not doing too well here. But for all my self absorbed blog rants, my kid really does come first. I got my mom to come watch her for a few mins so I could go to the store for fever reducer and pedialyte. (Getting my mom out of the house is a huge deal, she hasn’t visited my home in two years.) Her first word through the door wasn’t how’s the baby, it was a comment about how my home smells like cats. That’s my sunshine spewing mommy.  But kid first, even if it meant a chunk of my butt is missing. To my credit, and thanks to advice from the counselor, I stewed a bit over her barb but I did not let her bait me into blowing up. That’s a plus right?

I truly believe if I had taken a klonopin, it would have been a war, tho. That shit makes me combative or aggressively paranoid or some shit. It is NOT normal behavior to threaten to use someone’s intestine as a jump rope, even for weirdo me.

Spook slept off and on all day. About six pm, she made a rousing comeback and started keeping down food. This morning she is a whirlwind of happy chatter and running about. Yay.

Me,on the other hand, now that the mommy panic over a sick kid has passed…

I was so exhausted last night, I had gotten like three hours of sleep since Spook got sick, and I thought I would fall into bed and zonk…WRONG. The panic and paranoia set in. I even started thinking about the Donor and how just the sound of his dead emotionless fake voice makes me homicidally angry. (Fuck you spell check, I will make up words if I have to.) Then came thoughts of judgement about how my house smells funny and I can’t control my kid at a birthday party and I got truly paranoid that someone would take her away from me. This turned into a full blown panic attack. I kept hearing noises outside and checking it out. I had to kill the TV, the noise had me edgier.

It took two and a half hours of deep breathing and counting backwards from a thousand over and over just to get my heart rate slowed enough and my mind calmed enough to welcome sleep. It sucked. I didn’t dare take a Trazadone tho, lest Spook be sick again. Last time I took a half of Trazadone, she woke up in the night and I was so sedated I stumbled into her room and fell into the damn toy box. How a doctor could think this is acceptable for someone with a small child is beyond me. I’d rather do sleep deprivation than risk not being lucid enough for my kid.

Now…I haven’t showered in three days. Yes, eww, I know. I loathe myself but it is what it is. I don’t want to go do the sidekick thing for R today. I don’t particularly want to go out at all, that’s when the paranoia and panic are the worst. I feel like I have a target printed on me head to toe and everyone is armed. Illogical, but the brain sends some far out wrong messages. Funny how this wasn’t happening but once or twice a month awhile back. I used to play connect the dots as a kid. But noo, I am sure I am making it all up. Or so the professionals would say. Idiots.

Oh is my venom showing?

Oh well.

It sucks to be semi functional and able to manage being out and about then go to near agoraphobia. How is that not gonna give someone a fucking attitude problem?

On the good side, I think between Cymbalta and the seasonal affect lifting, I may have a few months respite from the depression.

On the bad side…I am stark raving paranoid panicky insane.

Must everything be a trade off?

Oh,well. Let the downward spiral into the abyss continue.

Crash crash burn, let it all burn.