Daily Archives: September 8, 2012

Hiding out and freaking out

I admit with no pride…I am dodging calls from R. He asked if I would come in for a few hours one day this weekend and I told him he has to start giving me more than five minutes notice so I can find a sitter. I’ve asked that of him a ton of times. He never hears me.

I ran errands all morning, buying groceries and a few cleaning supplies, and Spook was typical noisy tantrum-y toddler. I just want to vegetate now.

I know I should man up and answer the phone,though in all fairness it has only rang once. In all fairness,I don’t even know if he wants me to come in, for all I know he could be wanting to ask the answer to a trivia question or tell me a long awaited part has come in.


I need a break from people, from activity.

I cannot be him,or his eldest daughter, who is working full time, getting her masters so in school full time, married, raising a baby…Which she learned from him, run 24-7, never relax, never stop going.

Now I feel like he is expecting the same of me, and I cannot be him,or his daughter.

My limitations became pretty clear last night when I was studying the A Plus certification and hit the chapter on motherboards and not one kernel of it stuck in my brain.

I am not stupid.

But I am a slow learner and some of this stuff just does not register.

I have tried to tell R this and he just won’t listen.

He is good to me, and I know this, and I am grateful.

But every time I see the job lady, I hope against hope this will be the time when a job comes through.

Because I am starting to feel like I can’t breathe with R.

It was one of the biggest issues from when we lived together was I couldn’t keep up with his go 24-7 lifestyle and him expecting and pushing me to keep up was one of the major stressors that would send me into some bipolar or panic oriented freak out.

Can’t help but feel like I am right back there,only without the added benefit of shared expenses and sex.

When I try to talk to him honestly about the stress I am feeling, he launches into a spiel about how he raised three girls on his own and worked full time and played with a band and had a relationship and paid all the bills and did side work for extra cash and had all his friends to hang out with….

Just hearing him go on gives me an epic panic attack. I remember all too well what life with him was like.

That he seems to expect me to be like him and his daughter pisses me off.

Furthermore, the way he expects me to drop everything and appear when he decides he needs my assistance without regard to what I might be doing at the time (or not doing) gets my panties in a bunch.

When talking honestly to a person doesn’t work, what is left but running for the hills?

I feel weak and pathetic and gutless.

I also feel like my psyche is at a breaking point and if I don’t find a way to put up some stop signs,I’m going to come unglued.

So…today I am hiding.

I don’t feel good about it, but sometimes, saving yourself is more important than pleasing others. Especially when you’re not even getting paid to do something.

I am just people’d out for the day.

I need a xanax, some whiskey, and about 14 hours of staying inside and away from anyone who is not connected via computer.

On the plus side,other than folding an asstone of laundry,I did get caught up on all my housework.

That will last about sixteen hours.

One more stressor.

That I am not going to think about right now.

I need to lay like broccoli.


trudging uphill in molasses while talking to a brick wall

For weeks now, it has been more and more of a challenge to get up in the mornings. I do NOT bound out of bed bright eyed and bushy tailed, anxious to start the day.

I set the alarm for 5:30 a.m., then hit snooze as long as I can, until Spook makes it clear she’s awake. Only then do I drag ass out of bed.

It’s getting old.  Each day is a brand new start,right? I slept, right? Shouldn’t I be chomping at the bit to face a new day full of possibilities, full of energy and gumption?

Yeah, right.

No matter how early I fall asleep, I am still having my love affair with the almighty snooze button, because I’d rather be asleep than awake.

Isn’t that depression?

Given,once my nocturnal butt gets up and moving I am on functional auto pilot but…

I don’t do it with any fervor.

Tis such a struggle each day to get Spook dressed and fed, then the cats, and finally, myself.

It has gotten difficult just to shower everyday. Which is totally NOT in my character but a facet of the depression.

Lately, the depressive side has been winning.

But when I saw the shrink, I told her the depression is a 3 out of 5 most days. She thinks this is significant improvement and my meds need not be changed.

I expressed my concerns about the seasonal affect.

She suggested light therapy (Um, spent two hundred bucks on the lamp and it didn’t do fuck all!) and doing little things that make me happy and I should sail thru the seasonal thing without needing a medication adjustment.

I should just talk to a brick wall.

I am definitely feeling the stress.

Then I feel guilty for feeling the stress, because even my counselor told me she has days she has to FORCE herself to go to work, force herself to go home and care for her foster kid and cook supper.

So where do I get off complaining if it’s tough even for people without all my disorders?

Bloody hell!

I told her I was kinda down and stressed and concerned about the seasonal affect.

She just wanted to highlight how well I have been doing the past year.

Yes,I am out of bed, getting dressed, and caring for my child, I MUST be a raging success.

Never mind that the housework is getting out of hand and I’m battling myself just to take a freaking shower and sometimes with the kid and cats crawling all over me and R setting me to finding boards that are out of stock everywhere while pressuring me to get this a-plus certification ASAP has me on the edge of a meltdown.

I put on clothes today, I MUST be peachy keen!

What a crock of shit.

I know the counselor means well.

I know the doctor means well.

But they have to actually listen and quit giving platitudes. When I say I feel like I am slipping and in trouble, they need to HEAR me.

Worse than mood swings or depression is the generalized cloud of anxiety that seems to imprison me.

There are times I can barely breathe the panic and anxiety get so bad.

The shrink says I am just in crisis with this stuff from the donor and the divorce and i JUST need to stay in counseling, for it is the best thing for me.

I wish counseling cured the panic attacks and anxiety and paranoia!

Adding to my disdain and cynicism, my counselor was telling me how she diagnosed one of her clients as schizo-affective because he hears voices but the client saw the shrink there and the shrink just declared him to have mild depression and sent him on his way.


I hope the voices tell that client to snap the doctor’s neck!

When are the so called professionals here to help us ever going to stop and fucking listen to us??????

Shrinks are glorified pill pushers.

Therapists are great, but their opinion doesn’t carry the weight of the doctor’s.

WTF are we supposed to do?

I think I know what I am going to do.

It’s 9pm.

I think I am going to assume the fetal position in bed and try to drown out all the crappy thoughts in my head with some vapid TV show or movie.

Some days,like today, I just feel utterly hopeless, like nothing is ever going to change or get better.

So much for the happy pills.

I’m not happy.

I am hanging by a few threads and while that may be enough for the doctor and counselor…am I wrong to want more?