Daily Archives: March 1, 2018

Comfort Me, O, My Soul

After some semi-comatose recovery time from my Taos-Fail, I wheeled my art cart into Starbucks yesterday and camped out for the morning.  Surrounding my surrogate-self on the page with the warm, chuffing bulk of pachyderms coaxed my sore brain to a softer place.

I also started working with my Panda Planner, a tool my therapist highly recommends.  Along with the regular planner-type stuff, it fosters brain health with headings like What I’m Grateful For, Things I’m Looking Forward To, and a nightly review that includes Wins for the Day.

I feel like I’m starting to crawl out from under the stress of moving (or not knowing when I’ll move) and get back to things that need attention.  Slowly.  Carefully.  I don’t want to startle the elephants.

Last Night

I feel like ever since the sermon last night about going through a storm in your life, I have been locked in a spiritual battle.  I couldn’t go to sleep last night so I prayed so hard until I finally did pass out.  I know what I believe God’s will for my life is.  I’m just impatient to start realizing it.  I need to get small things published in order to get big things published.  I need to write what God tells me to write, just like the prophets in the Bible did.  But I feel stuck in a rut of a) self-determination and b) unbelief that I can’t get out of.

Old habits die hard.  I’m used to pushing, moving, and shaking to make things happen in my life.  This waiting is driving me straight up the wall.  I prayed so hard last night for clarity–some kind of light in the darkness.  It hasn’t come yet. I know everything I write here reaches somebody that needs to  hear it. I am doing really, really well considering my diagnosis of bipolar disorder and my history of it.  Maybe I should be satisfied with that.

But I’m so restless.  And bored. And tired of feeling like a parasite.  I want to somehow earn my way back into a productive life. I feel like God wouldn’t have given me the desire to do more if I didn’t have the ability and the fortitude to do it.  But the impatience is starting to get the better of me.  I’m scared that in my desire to do SOMETHING I’ll end up doing the wrong thing.

All this to say–pray for me.  I need a breakthrough to confirm I’m on the right path, however winding it is. Or I might just lose faith in the path altogether.  I don’t want to drop out of the Christian life.  I want to do God’s will.  But I need clarity of how to do it.

 

Attention Deficit Disorders-Psychological Chaos

While it is certainly true that ADD/ADHD are diagnosed way too wily nily, especially in children, there are cases, like mine, in which the disorder fits like a glove. Now I’ve only ever had 2 doctors concur that I am indeed ADD. The others simply consider lack of focus and thought organization as a byproduct of bipolar disorder and that is a pertinent point. It is not the entire story, though. Personally, when I was able to take the ADD meds, my focus became laser sharp and I could organize my thoughts into nicely color coded files in my head. There was no ‘getting high’ or popping the pills ‘for energy’. It just made things better. Unfortunately, insurance will no longer cover even the bottom of the barrel generics anymore and I certainly can’t shell out $65 a month fot them so…no more color coded brain files here, just daily utter chaos.

It’s so easy to turn it into a joke, I do it myself. “So I was reading this awesome book about this guy who was haunted by his dead wife…which reminds me of a show I was watching last week, when my kid interrupted…OH MY GOD THERE’S A BUNNY WEARING GOLD LAME!SHINY!”. Dramatic but not inaccurate. I try to stay on topic, try to focus on one thing at a time, but my brain simply does not process things in that manner. No amount of therapy and self bullying and tidy little postie note lists in an effort to rein in my mental chaos changes the fact that it’s a hot mess up in my brain.

And that makes my current situation even more hellish. Moving is a stressful thing for even the most focused, calm together people. But for me, unable to focus or organize properly, and on a ticking clock to get it all packed and transported…This is where my condition truly hinders my ability to function in a meaningful capacity. Right now the way I so hurriedly packed then got so panicked I stopped trying to remotely organize…I’m not sure where our bedding is, our dishes, our bath stuff…It’s all there in a jumble of boxes and trash bags and baskets but…it’s a hellish game of Where’s Waldo. It will take weeks for me to pull it all together into some semblance of a sane home for my child and myself.

To think that I am forced to live with this chaos because of the price tag attached to a medication that could improve the quality of my life drastically really pisses me off.

After a rough night of waking in a panic, then not being able to get back to sleep due to the spinning thoughts and panic…when I finally did nod off, I kept jolting awake in ten seconds, heart thundering, feeling in danger…for no good reason…It was all I could do to get up with my kid this morning. I just wanted to stay asleep because I am fucking exhausted. The physical toll it’s all taking on me is overwhelming, too. I had wanted to come running out of the gate this morning, start packing the SUV and getting the rest of our shit out of here. Instead…I am trapped because now my body has decided its week long walk out on basic digrstive functions is off and I need to be near a toilet. So gastrointestinal cramps, sheer exhaustion, and inability to color code even one damned file in my brain to accomplish SOMETHING, ANYTHING…I am mad at myself, mad at my lackluster psych ‘team’, and I am fucking frustrated that the ONE organ in my entire body I need to cooperate to actually use all the other organs as well, keeps giving me two middle fingers.

Got dealt another blow this morning. Stepmonster found out I can’t have the water to the new place turned on until the landlord pays the old bill former tenants left-over $300!!!! And of course, I owe him the $400 deposit so he will want it to come out of that and I ain’t got it!!! Dad and stepmonster (she’s really not a monster, but St Elmo’s Fire is one of my fave 80’s movies and it was what Demi Moore’s character called her stepmother, so I just like using it, it makes me smile) are going to try to slide the landlord some money and I’ll pay them back but it’s just like…come on! Nothing with this whole thing has gone smoothly, not one fucking thing.

To make matters even worse…I’ve done the math and…even though I can get internet service for $39 a month…I need $85 for deposit and connect fee! I am gonna be trapped in Bumfuck with no internet, no gas to drive to town to even use free wifi…And maybe on the grand scale internet is the least of my concerns but it really IS a major thing for me. It’s my sanity, being able to write my posts and interact indirectly since phones cause me so much anxiety. I have at least 6 more weeks before the ass trash worthless state can, or will, force the sperm donor’s employer to start withholding child support so…no internet for six weeks at least!!! In a corrosive depression!

I guess my ‘let one thing go right’ plea was answered inasmuch as us finally getting the absent minded landlord to actually sign the lease so we have a place to live…But damn, no internet? Not bad enough my car is DOA and I am driving someone else’s which uses even more gas when I couldn’t afford the one using less…So I won’t be able to run to town even for groceries and I won’t have the ability to even stay sane with my internet activities.

Sounds like a suicidal ideation coming my way.

Too dramatic? Well, when your entire existence is spent on sensory overload and the one thing that enhances your life to a tolerable point is the ability to interact via the internet thus somewhat controlling my panic triggers…No, it’s not dramatic. It’s important and I am screwed. I mean, my fundraiser raised ten bucks and that was trying to find a place to live! People raise more money to decorate their kid’s room in Elsa stuff and I can’t even inspire a few people to help me keep a roof over my kid’s head. Maybe no internet will be a good thing. Obviously I have deluded myself into thinking my writing is decent enough for anyone to care enough to read it and say, “Hmm, maybe I’ll skip that mocha smoka half fat full pregnant mare urine foamy coffee drink for one day and toss a five into this campaign since it’s worthwhile.”

My bitch is showing, yes. No, I am not sorry. Frustrated anger is the perfectly legitimate way to feel at this juncture in time.

And while I may not get many views or likes or comments at least I am amusing to myself. I started this post as a ‘living with attention deficit disorder’…and somehow switched to ten other topics without even realizing it! I have to laugh at myself. Because when I think how annoying it must be for others to deal with me and my chaotic thought processes and self expression…

AT LEAST THEY CAN CLICK THE CLOSE BUTTON OR WALK AWAY.

I am stuck with me. And laughter is the only medicine I don’t have to wait days for my useless doctor’s office to call into the pharmacy.

For the hell of it, fundraiser link.

….

We got the house, finally. Dad and stepmonster hauled most of the big stuff off. Today and tomorrow I will just be loading up odds and ends and moving the cats, stuff like that.

I am relieved.

I am also still immensely stressed because there is nothing I like about this. Spook’s happiness and having a roof over head will have to carry me because…I have been worn to shreds over this whole thing. Trying to stay positive and find silver linings that aren’t mercury have left me exhausted and hopeless. Not to mention how much more expensive it’s going to be living in the fucking boondocks. In a house I don’t even like. But then I just wrapped up a week long run on under 14 hours sleep so maybe I just hate everything. I am already feeling trapped in that little town and we’re not there yet cos there’s no power and the landlord hasn’t even fixed the locks on the doors. Yet he goes on about me getting him his $400 security deposit in the next week or so. Then a hundred to turn on the water, then $50 to start trash service…I am so far in the hole there is no daylight.

If ever I needed a successful fundraiser, it was now and of course…FAIL. Yeah, yeah, we all have problems, but ya know what? This wasn’t my doing, this was backstabbing by a corrupt landlord who upended our world.

I zonked tonight but woke at 2:30 in a dead panic. This has been our home for nine years and it’s a shit hole but I liked it here. And this other house in Armpit…I know I don’t handle change well and my mental state is precarious, it could turn out to be a good thing…but right now, all I feel is resigned relief. I won’t have to sofa surf with my kid,we have a roof of our own.

But for whatever reason…my stupid brain says it’s the end of the world and I just want to curl up and cry myself to sleep. Of course, I’d have to be able to relax in order to sleep and now that I woke in a panic…

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t even write a decent whiny ass post. I just like tracking what I am feeling during these times of high panic because I can go sit in a doctor’s office and tell them about it after the fact…I want to be able to show them hundreds of entries about how these disorders have basically turned me into a terrified husk without hope. I am a machine, living for my kid, not really caring about myself. And circumstances are shitty and factor in but 7 months of black depression and raw nerves and not doctor for another week…

I guess it’s a miracle I haven’t tried to off myself. The thoughts have been there, but thankfully I am too stubborn to go down that rabbit hole.

Yet.

But I can feel it coming and it has me petrified.