Less heat, less humidity, my kid has even been quiet-ish (Yeah, I resorted to technology as a babysitter, don’t judge me)…One quick jaunt into the dish for cat food, back home. Perfunctory visit from Dad’s crew. End of contact with dish dwellers.
Yet hour after hour I keep sliding down into this dark place. Except I’m so numb it brings only anxiety and self doubt and a Novacaine-tinted anger. My thoughts swirl like a tornado funnel cloud. Tugs of self loathing. Bits of righteous indignation. Resentment that I even have the self awareness to let all this crap infect my already fucked up brain.
It doesn’t matter if I know it’s just a mood shift, it’s just my thoughts running riot, it’s not real, it’s not true…Not a single fuck is given by my scumbag brain. And judging from the pains in my ovaries over the last few days, I’m guessing the wonky chemicals are now getting some help from the surging hormones, creating the wreckage that is me.
Everyone around you is getting better and you’re not, what is your problem? You’re gonna bring them all down, you need to avoid talking to anyone until you get your shit together. You just want the pills to fix everything but the problem is YOU. The doctor thinks you’re a lying drama queen and is not going to help you because he doesn’t take you seriously. The reason you can’t feel anything isn’t anxiety or depression or side effects, you feel nothing because you are NOTHING. You are less than nothing. You’re 42, you’ve been on every med known to man (as the doctor even points out disdainfully), fact is, you’re a lost cause, you should just quit breathing ‘cos it is never getting any better.
Your kid acts out because you are mental and you are just gonna mess her up and destroy her life. Your cats keep dying because you kill everything around, not just hope and friendship. You know you’re the entire problem, you just refuse to believe it. If you cared about anyone other than yourself, you’d go wash down that bottle of Trazadone and quit wasting resources that could be used on people who aren’t lost causes. You haven’t felt happiness in so long, you’re beyond repair. Just…end…it…
LALALALALALALA, I CAN’T HEAR YOU, LALA LALALALA.
It’s time for me to step back, regroup. Muster up every ounce of anger in me to fight these thoughts because they are BULLSHIT. But very convincing nonetheless. All it takes is one little spot of soft underbelly for the darkness to stab through and then it’s in your bloodstream, in your mind, dragging you down, holding you under the surface so you can’t breathe and you’re silent yet screaming inside…
And what makes it worse is that you’re in living hell, yet all around you, life goes on and things improve for others yet shit just gets worse for you no matter your best efforts. And it takes a toll and makes you feel toxic and useless and hopeless and you KNOW IT’S A FUCKING LIE but…Ninja mood swing caught you off guard and now you can’t get back up, you’re just writhing on the floor in spiritual agony while the blackened evil thoughts keep coming at you with their venom.
And again,you know they are not real and your “support system” can remind you it’s not real because they’ve got it all figured out at the moment, but it doesn’t help you from getting pulled over to the dark side. If anything, the scumbag brain starts whispering some more, look at your friends, they have problems too, and now they’re all getting better while you tread water and stagnate and waste oxygen and yeah, they think you’re funny but soon they’re just going to decide you’re redundant and boring and a whiner and…
I FUCKING HATE MY OWN BRAIN.
So, yeah. I know it’s all lies being told by wacky chemicals and hormones. I know I’ve been stressed to the nth so it makes sense with that and all the med changes I’d be reeling…But ya know what?
Right now, it means nothing and being reminded of it makes it worse. I just have to let myself tread some more dark waters, keep perspective on the brain’s lies, and remember…This is not drama or a cry for attention or some affectation.This is what my reality is at THIS moment.
I’ll reemerge at some point and reread this and wonder what the fuck my problem was. For now…the distortion’s at the helm and I am along for the ride. I’ll kick its ass later when I claw my way out of the abyss.
I am so full of shit and yet I want so desperately to BE a bad ass bitch and kick mental illness in the ass and nards and throat.
Just not gonna happen right now and I accept that. To do otherwise would just make me go more insane. I don’t even respond well to pressure from myself. Which would explain why I can’t avoid my triggers as the professionals tell me to do.
LIFE is my trigger. People, noise, mood swings, hormones, demands, being manipulated and bullied, my mind never sending me the right messages….
That the dark side calls isn’t the shocker. The shocker is that amidst all of this, I still manage to make it back from dark side. Maybe I’m more badass than I give myself credit for.