Daily Archives: December 19, 2012

Internally Complicated

A couple comments that Hippie Dude (my therapist) made during recent therapy sessions keep rolling around in my brain. Like …

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Cold Coffee

My brain, for some reason, loves to freak out about my driving lessons. I hit spot depression in the worst sort of way, and the urge to hide from the world and cry is very real. So when I get hit with it earlier in the day before my brain has time to panic, I am both grateful and put out. That happened today; my lesson was supposed to start at 12:20pm, and my instructor showed up half an hour early, before I could even take the first sip of my coffee. But that’s okay too — I’ll happily sup upon cold coffee if it means I went out and had a good lesson, which I did. That’s why I don’t get my brain’s insistence of being so freaked out by it; I’m not a bad driver, and now I’m an adequate operator of the manual transmission. But that’s just bipolar brains for you — they do weird crap.

That isn’t to say that when I state that my brain behaves in such a way that I’ve given up, and that I will always let it operate that way. I run into this problem often wherein because I have firm opinions and statements of fact, people often assume that they’re definitive and forever. Which is… frankly… insane. Life is not a static state; while my brain might sabotage me in such ways as to preclude normal concepts of relaxation (to pluck an example from earlier this week), that doesn’t mean I will never relax or figure out how to relax. I’m always working on ways to get around whatever weird crap my brain throws at me, and how to best manage my spoons and time to make sure I’m taking care of me. I am always doing my part to break down my responses and behaviors to understand why they behave as they do, and how to best ‘fix’ or accept things as I go along.

I guess that’s it for today… funny how little there is to say when things are back to feeling semi-human.


Don’t wanna dream

Rough night. I kept waking up every hour on the hour, and wow, nightmare after nightmare. And ya know, if it had been me being chased by a masked chainsaw guy, it wouldn’t have been so bad. But these were realistic nightmares. Like my car overheating and leaving me stranded again. Or some angry woman beating me up because she just didn’t like my clothes. (I never really left high school,I guess, you get used to people trashing you for being different and it sticks even if it’s on a subconscious level.)

Ick. The bad vibes are hanging around with me and I don’t like it.

Yesterday was boooooring. Like, comatose boring. R was in this  hyper work mode but nothing was going right for him so I was walking on eggshells. Not optimal for my anxiety condition. His wife called him and he hung up on her. I couldn’t wait to leave. Not that he took it out on me, but I am still so scarred from my marriage to the Donor, I can’t stand being in the presence of hot tempered people. Though it did give me a little clarity on my whole situation. I hung up on the Donor once, and it lead to him coming home, slamming shit around, and having a two hour tantrum like I had physically assaulted him. R and his wife argue but they get over it.

Hmm, like adults.

Guess I didn’t marry one of those.

The car is running but it’s still hinky. That makes me a nervous wreck driving it. Thus the nightmares about it, I think. I am used to being secure in my car’s functionality. This is a wild card. Newer is NOT better. It may be pretty and have bells and whistles, but I do not feel comfortable. I’m a weird one, apparently. I don’t care if it’s ugly as long as it reliably runs. This thing is nice looking but she has problems. If I had money to fix them, it would be no problem. Since I am broke, having a car that needs work sucks. I miss my old car. Like, obsessively so. The upgrade only impressed those around me who were so ashamed of my 88 Caprice.

I love that car.

But since the wreck, for all  I know, it would be doing the same shit.

Blah. I miss my car and this new one is giving me more anxiety. I could have just said that rather than prattling, huh? Then I wouldn’t be me.

Not going to the shop today. Mom can’t babysit, she’s going on a mad Christmas shopping binge. Guess I will do housework. That mountain of unfolded laundry ain’t getting any smaller. I truthfully don’t care. Gotta go get food since I was non mobile all weekend and couldn’t do shit.

I feel…blah today.

I have a feeling once this holiday bullshit is over I will be much better. Hellidays always bring me down.

Of course, if the world ends Friday, I won’t have to worry about any of it. (NASA website says that is not going to happen, btw.)

My heart rate is already getting faster at the thought of going out into the petri dish. (what I call the public.)

I get so overstimulated by all the traffic and people and activity, it really is a nervewracking experience for me. It doesn’t seem to get any easier, especially now there’s a camera on every corner. You’re never not being watched. And there are those who say it doesn’t matter if you’re not doing anything wrong, but I think those people are ignorant. Basic right to privacy is a fundamental of this country. Used to be,anyway. Now you never know if peeing in a public place will result in some sick Youtube video. You can’t do anything because even if the powers that be aren’t filming you, some jackass with a camera phone might be.

I know I sound like the typical surveillance/paranoid but I have talked to a lot of people who don’t have mental issues and they feel the same way.

Life is not the free spirited joy it used to be.

And it makes going out a living hell for those of us who are already jumping out of our skin with anxiety and stimuli overload.


A Hallmark of the Season The Sixth Holiday Mental Moment

Today I got the strangest thing.  Something I rarely see anymore much less receive. A sign of simpler times and Christmas when I was young .. er.  Younger.   I’m not old, just older but sometimes in a moment of contemplative reflection, if I think about all the things that have changed and been invented … Continue reading

PTSD and Depression: Strange Bedfellows

For the past few days I have been feeling progressively more jumpy, irritable, and triggered by “minor” things like slight changes in my mother’s tone of voice, or “minor” putdowns, expressions of devaluation, etc.  Concurrently, I have been sinking into an episode of major depression complete with suicidal thoughts and plans (don’t worry, I won’t do it: I have promised myself to stick it out, as long as I can).  The whole thing has been complicated by my mother’s birthday, which was yesterday, and the plethora of expectations that go along with that.

Last year was her 85th birthday.  I made her a surprise party, complete with a band and 200 people.  She was very satisfied with that.  Then, come to find out (I don’t know how), her birth date turns out to be wrong and she’s really 85 this year.  I told her, if you think I’m going to do that again for you, you’d better have another think, because I’m still tired from last year.

Last night we were supposed to go out to dinner, which is always stressful for me because I only eat kosher food and my parents always get upset if I don’t eat, even though it’s been that way for eight years already (there are no kosher restaurants in Western North Carolina).  Lucky for me, there was a pea-soup fog and no chance of driving anywhere, so I got off the hook and had a rain-check until tonight.

Meanwhile, my anxiety, depression, hypervigilance, and out-of-control anger was building.  I took my meds at 8:30 last night and was asleep by 9.  I took an extra 25 mg. of Seraquel, at my doctor’s suggestion, and it knocked me out.  I slept until 11:30 this morning, and woke up feeling as if I hadn’t slept at all.

I usually call my mother at 11 am to check in with her and see how my father’s night had gone (he often falls at night), but today I couldn’t muster the strength to do it until around 2.  She said she’d wondered what had happened to me (although it would never occur to her to call), and said something sarcastic, a cheap shot which I blotted out immediately, but it still put me into a blind rage that only subsided when I told her I wasn’t feeling well and she said, well in that case you should stay home tonight.

I really question my sanity (hah!) at coming back here from my beloved Israel to help my parents.  My therapist tells me over and over that it’s life-threateningly detrimental to my health to be here.  I’m sure she’s right, and yet I can’t bring myself to leave my dear old father, who gets more demented day by day.  The only way I keep myself even marginally right-side-up is by reminding myself that I have an unbreakable agreement with myself that as soon as he leaves this life I am back home in Israel, period, new paragraph.  My mother has a huge and very supportive social network that will gladly take care of her.

In the meantime I don’t quite know what to do with this awful perfect storm of PTSD and depression triggers.  I’m taking more meds.  I’m gaining weight because of the meds.  I feel shitty about that. I do need to exercise more: maybe that is the key.  I just have to find ways of staying alive, is all.