Daily Archives: April 30, 2013

Mega-Huge Comment-Related Apology!

Okay, so, I’m bad about checking what comments go into spam. Apparently, ALL the comments were going into spam — whups! All the legit ones should have been marked as such now, and I will endeavour to go back and respond appropriately.

An especial thank you to Brain Eats Brain for pointing out that something was rotten in the State of Denmark. I’m a touch slow sometimes about connecting the dots!


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I Need Some Hope

I am getting very ‘in my head’ and need some distraction…but I cannot handle just anything. I have wrecked the car, Social Security is questioning my disability, the school is questioning my FAFSA, my medication is not working, and I have already had too much sleep. I need something to read. 99% of what I have stacked against my bedroom wall is too painful…too stressful. I cannot handle characters dying or battling disease. I cannot take slapstick either. What I need is something gentle but influencing…something like the lilacs in bloom outside my bedroom window.

Several years ago I clung to the Mitford series like it was fresh water. There were conflicts and even crises but the dark was never too dark and never as dark as my own mind. Living through the diabetic coma with Father Tim was a little discomforting, but survivable. Then more recently I have devoured Alexander McCall Smith’s The New No.1 Ladies’ Detective Agency series. Mma Ramotswe is even ‘traditionally built.’ How satisfying is that! Her father’s ordeal in the mines was very difficult to get through and may have been a bit out of place but, again, the series as a whole was never too dark.

The situation is this…when we are spiraling down, caught in the squirrel cage of our minds, or mired in the dark muck and in need of comfort, there may not be anyone there to bring us a cup of tea…or a cutting from the lilac. We may know we need some hope but not know where to find it. These are just some thoughts I had.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Culture

This week’s photo challenge theme, culture, provided an interesting challenge for interpretation. And I have quite the heartfelt interpretation today… …

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Who decides if I am disabled?  The Social Security Administration thinks it does.  If I work too much, then I am no longer disabled...or so they say.  Bull $#+!.  Just because I took too many shifts at Chicos, against my better judgement, does not mean I am not disabled.  As far as my doctor is concerned, I shouldn't be working at all.  The idea that one's condition is decided and defined by bureaucratic convention is ludicrous. 

 As much as I am loath to say it, I am disabled...not able.  Not able to cope.   Not able to function normally.   I feel guilty saying it because there are times when I feel ok...but something happens and I get confused, disoriented, shaky, and forgetful.  I need lots of sleep and down time.  I need structure and simple tasks.  During a rather memorable manic phase in my forties, I was able to multitask on several webpages, projects, reports, and tasks...brilliantly.  Not any more.  I'm tired, burned out, my circuits are fried.

Does the SSA ask me about that?  No.  They just see that I earned $50 more than the allowed amount one month and decide that I am no longer disabled.  They cut off my benefits and say I owe them $8466.05 in back pay.  I don't have that.  I'm struggling to make it...which doesn't help my stress level.  Do they care what they've done to my life? Of course not.

I have since quit Chicos and work two days a week addressing envelopes at a financial investment firm.  It has been eight months since the SSA cut off my benefits.  I have applied for reinstatement.  In the mean time, they are accepting small payments towards what they say I owe them.  I call weekly to ask the status of my request for reinstatement and I'm told the agent is "working the case."  I used to work for the Federal Government and resent derogatory remarks about the bureaucracy...but I must admit, this is ridiculous.

So the struggle continues...who decides whether or not I am disabled.  The SSA may decide if I am entitled to benefits or not but the fact remains, I am unable to deal with the normal stresses of an everyday life.  I can't do it.  I am not able.  I am disabled.

The sleep deficit grows

R assigned me a rather risky endeavor today to do for one of his friends’ computers. I have tried to tell him that it risks destroying the entire hard drive but he is insistent. He wants me to do this software shit but he overrides all my input. Very nerve racking.

Which is why I slept like shit last night. I was awake literally every 2 hours. Over and over and over, to the point I wanted to claw my own eyes out. I have a lot of nights where I wake up, but it’s been awhile since it was that bad. And I know it’s anxiety and a little bit of anger. It’s like handing a kid a pencil and telling them to write their own name, they have to do it for themselves…Then taking the pen away and doing it yourself. Why am I even making an effort? It’s pointless. Every day I become more bitter because this software bit is not what I want to do. I find it utterly boring. I know what I know because I spent 13 years learning on my own, without anyone prodding me and telling me what to do. Now instead of a learning experience it’s become one more soul sucking “i have no choice” task like housework.

But of course, the brakes are failing on my car and I need the brownie points for car repairs so I will make like a nice little minion and if he destroys the fucking thing, so be it. I will do an “I told you so” dance. Though if I can hem and haw and stall, I’d like to try to find a better solution than software crossbreeding. Too many little variables to put all the eggs in one basket. Or maybe he’s right and I’m wrong. I don’t like to take chances because it makes my panic skyrocket. I still stand by my assessment that what he wants to do is far riskier than beneficial.

So…No decent rest. Anxiety eating my nerve endings alive. On the plus side, my mood seems to be on up side of level, but I did just take my meds so it could be that temporary lift, things could go to absolute “die in a fire” shit soon. It’s never a given and I don’t view it that way, but I am wary as it has happened so many times.

I  hadn’t been through the door four minutes last night, was going pee and trying to change clothes, when that little neighbor girl was at the door. I am getting really sick of that. I told Spook no company, period, and it was a brief tantrum but I had shit to do. The air conditioner is going in soon, this place is a sauna, and I have to have the outlet looked at and I wanted to rearrange the furniture for summer since I didn’t get a chance to do it all weekend. It’s a shame parents have so little supervision on their kids that this child is basically allowed to stock us seven days a week at all hours.

But I am finding my backbone and I think it’s time to lay down some ground rules. Like, NO company before 5:30 pm during the week, period. Like no company before 2pm on weekends, because a month now I have had to put my plans on hold or listen to a tantrum because my kid wants to play with someone who knocks on the door before 10am. Sunshine spewer is right. I have to lay down rules and stick to them. I don’t know why this proves so hard with my child. Maybe because I want to make her happy and not screw this mom thing up. Everyone else I simply don’t care about displeasing.

True, I don’t want to disappoint them, but that is more me atoning for my past of fuck ups than me wanting to make them happy.

The whole R situation is heading for a blow up at some point. It will be ugly and he will play the injured party but once I crack, there is no turning back. Which is why I beg people not to make me feel like an animal backed into a corner. The outcome is never good and it burns bridges. At this point, I am just “so be it.”

Honestly, what kind of future do I have at that shop if I get all this training and he’s just gonna second guess and override my decisions?Not to mention if he should keel over, the shop goes to his kids and aside from the youngest, those older two want me gone. They’re too polite to admit it, but they have dropped so many hints it’s like an anvil on the head. R sees and hears what he wants to because his kids can do no wrong for if they did it would reflect badly on him as a parent.

I doubt I will ever be that way with my kid. I know she is a demon spawn, she comes by it naturally. My calling a spade a spade mentality has not changed since reproducing. No one gets absolved with me. Personality flaw? Perhaps. But so much rejection based on a condition I can’t control has helped me become this not so good person and I am not inclined to go back. Least now I see the knives coming instead of being surprised when they land in my back.

Wow…this was supposed to be a short post.

Way I see it though is no one edits their diary and that is what a blog is, a diary. Sometimes you let other people read it in hopes of support and input.

Okay, I must shower.

I don’t want to, but I must.

And it’s these moments when I want to revert to being a three year old and stomping and screaming “I don’t wanna, you can’t make me!”

My inner child is a mean little bastard.

This Wasn’t a Good Idea


Corner, Sweet Corner, my refuge from the rest of the (working) world.

Whelp and howdy from work, folks. Have a picture of my corner, sans me — it’s my little office-based shelter-ma-bob.

I’m not feeling particularly great about anything today. As I expected, my mother-in-law’s bright and surprised, ‘Oh, hello!’ was akin to being punched in the face with energy. I managed to mainly shrug it off, but I consider that a miracle — the entire ride over was filled with intrusive racing thoughts of the worst kind. I managed to drown it out, but yanno, that still completely lacking in energy thing.


On the outer door of our office pointing my way. It predates us moving in, but amuses me nonetheless.

And, of course, the whole not eating or drinking much means that I feel especially useless and evil today. Because we didn’t stop at the store for food or beverage en route, the chances of me eating or drinking are very low now. There’s a great shop on the corner… but it has people in it. It would require me talking to people. I can’t talk to people right now — I don’t have the energy for it. I made the mistake of presuming we’d stop at the store with the self check-out and no need to interact with people, but I was wrong. And now I get to suffer for it, and then feel like the world’s biggest ass because my brain is being stupid and inflicting of what I can only surmise will be a huge stupid guilt trip. Which I also can’t handle ’cause I don’t have any energy and my anxiety is jagging and all of that crap. Gotta love it when the brain locks itself into Lose/Lose mode. ¬¬

And as it’s probably thoroughly implied, there’s a lot of fixation trying to screw itself up into a tight ball of crazy-anger, so yanno, can’t even crack my mouth without risking letting it all fly out and nuke the entire world around me. It sort of reinforces that staying home was the smart thing to do, and will probably continue to be the smart thing for the nearest future.

So yeah, fun. Not.


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