Daily Archives: June 8, 2013

The DSM 5 REALLY needs to classify frustration as a mental illness

Considering the new DSM considers caffeine withdrawal a psychological condition, I think they should also add “frustration with multiple facets of life to the point of wanting to claw one’s own eyeballs out”.

I really do not like to whine. I bitch and vent but I do not like to whine.

It just turned into one of those days where frustration has lead to anger and irritation, mostly with my kid. She won’t listen to a word I say. She asks “why” to every word out of my mouth. She yells “NO!I don’t want to!” to every directive I give. Use of the nice mommy voice accomplishes nothing. The satan voice is more effective but has the down side of making me feel like a really crappy mother.

It’s so weird, that 5 days when it was just me and her without me going to the shop or going to my mom’s, things were relatively calm. She’s a high spirited hyper kid, but we didn’t have so much acting out and mouthing off.

My primary problem for the last year or so is when we go out in public. That is when she really acts out in a major way, and she will not listen to me, and the satan voice gets more  reaction from people in our vicinity than from her. I end up feeling so disrespected and utterly inept. I used to be one of those sn0tty non parents who’d see a kid acting up in public and make some stupid comment, “If that was my kid, I’d spank their ass.” Ha ha ha. Until you have a kid, you know shit. I see spanking as an absolute last resort. Even then, I am reluctant to be deduced to it.

But I am at the end of my rope with my kid. We went to R’s house today so he could take a look at the muffler, which has snapped in half, and the whole time all she did was sass me and defy me and refuse to listen to a word I said. I was getting irate and stressing out (it occurred to me I hadn’t had a xanax in awhile and I thought maybe that was a contributing factor, but the bottom line is, my kid minds everyone but me and damn it, is IS fucking irritating and if grumpy voice has to emerge to get something accomplished, fuck these people and their tongue clicking judgment of my parenting ability.)

R said, “It just needs to be welded back, we can do it Monday, I’ll pay for it, no big shakes.”

And there was his wife and middle daughter to hear it. No doubt his wife will be on the warpath and accusing me of being as big a mooch as Kenny. It makes me feel shitty that I can’t afford to take care of my own damn car. I just don’t know what to do about it. If I were ever in my right mind for more than a few hours, I might entertain starting school. But my lack of stability makes me reluctant. It would do more harm than good to embark on something and fail at it than wait until I am in a better mental place. Sunshine spewer accused me of using it as an excuse, but I have made the mistake many times in my past. Being on  shaky mental ground, launching into jobs, relationships, schooling…Only to fail. Not anxious to repeat history.

Had to get groceries. Spook was just as insolent there as at R’s. I was ready to step in front of a speeding car because I am just beginning to feel so incompetent at this parenting thing.

And then I go back to what his middle daughter said last night, “I’m not happy unless I am busy and stressing out, it’s the only way I can be happy.”

And my first reaction was an eye roll then a cringe, followed by berating myself for being such a freak who can barely walk and chew gum at the same time, meanwhile I am surrounded by all these workaholic super achievers.

I cannot believe it is only 6:30 pm. This has been a very long, very irritating day. And again, back in a debate with the toddler from hell, who can’t accept the word no, she has to turn it into a 15 minute ordeal of feet stomping and screaming and telling me she doesn’t like me. Joy, joy. I do everything for her and she doesn’t like me. Karma.

I cannot believe yesterday was soo smooth and today has just been, grrrrrr, I want to chew on railroad spikes. This level of frustration and irritation have manifested as anxiety. My ear is itching, most likely the fan blowing my hair around. But scumbag brain is telling me people are talking bad about me. And well, I guess they have reason to, because I am apparently a waste of space by societal standards.

It occurred to me earlier that people, on a whole, and society in general, do not base people on their worth as a person, but as the sum of their accomplishments, successes, material trappings, and physical appearance. In which case, I am literally nothing.

But that’s sheeple thinking and my motto is fuck sheeple. I am not perfect, but I am a beautiful mess with flaws and attractive facets. I will not deem my self worth based on the fact that I have accomplished little in my life other than having a child and surviving mental illness.

Oh, well. The neighbor girl is here, yapping at me even though I am obviously busy. My kid is showing off, cats are climbing on me. Damiana wants food and drink. (Do these people ever feed their kids enough???) I am on edge. Maybe another xanax is in order. Though I have been making do most days with 0.5 mg instead of 1.5 mg, and I’d like to keep to that if I can. It will hurt less when she takes my lifeline away. In which case, the plan is just to drink heavily. Though since I cut down to a few drinks one night a week, I feel sooo much better.

Mental illness is a trade off though. if she does take my xanax, booze is the only way I will survive.

Oh wow, my child is blubbering again for taking a butterfly net away from her after she swung it inside like a baseball bat. I am awful. She doesn’t like me.

Well, I’m not liking me much either today.

This is why I’d just as soon have all sucky days. Because one good day gives me the taste of what normalcy could be like, then everything goes to shit, and I am sitting here all but licking metaphoric wounds. Bloody hell.

Wow. Damiana is really dense. I told her, explicitly, to go play with my kid, and still, she is right here, yapping at me. Had my day not been sucky, I might not be so pissy. But for fuck’s sake, why am I so clear to the people around me and yet none of them listen to me and act like I never spoke in the first place? Am I really that insignificant?

So, yeah…Frustration and irritation should totally be a psych disorder. In which case, I am going to make oodles of money as the poster child. And with my level of disturbance, I will need every cent just to manage my disorders.

I’d spew some sunshine and rainbows in my newfound effort to be more positive but my kid and her friend are fighting and I need to go be a referee.

The glamorous life.

Life’s little fuck yous

So I am sailing along yesterday and this morning…No major mood crashes, no major irritations…Had to go renew my Magic Jack yesterday because like an idiot, I never check the desktop slave computer and forgot my year service was up. So I had to load money on my debit card at Wal Mart, come home, get that all set up so I’d have home phone. Grabbed some groceries.

Got beckoned to the shop.

Nothing major there, except Ursula and her husband stopped in. She hit a deer and totaled her car. Which made me feel crappy since I was on such a tirade about her the other day. (I stand by my assessment that she is sort of heartless and judgmental to the nth degree.) But I’d never wish a car wreck on anyone. It’s her second in the last year. So it’s like, oh, that poor kid can’t catch a break…Isn’t it funny the way my mind works? She all but called me lazy white trash who chooses to be mentally ill…And something bad befalls her and instantly my compassion kicks in, whether she deserves it or not.

Mostly I try to remember the kid she used to be, back when we were close. And I know how R feels about his kids, so I could never openly disparage them, no matter how true it is. Though I have voiced my concerns about how many of her patients will kill themselves when she takes that hard line with them.

Gah. I am such a mess, mentally.

But it was not a bad day, got shit done, no major catastrophes. R wasn’t even annoying. We went to my dad’s so he could finish up their dryer, dad bought us take out from the local cafe. Came back, it was typical Friday with Spook playing with his granddaughter. I had a little cake vodka. But his middle daughter was there with her husband, then the oldest showed up with her husband, and it was a family get together and I felt a little misplaced. But I just stayed in the living room with the kids and let the adults do their thing. Ha ha ha, I’m 40 and I still view everyone else as an adult and I’m just…well, I’m just me, defying any real classification. Part child, part adult. Womanchild. Because I’d rather get on the floor and play with Ark animals with two under 5 children than try to relate to older people. I suck at it. Kids are easy.

We left. Came home, we both went to sleep within two hours of returning. Had a good night’s sleep for the most part. Got up, thinking we would hit a few yard sales since Spook needs summer clothes…And boom, a piece of my muffler breaks off the car and it’s now in violation of the noise laws. So we came back and here we shall sit until R gets back to me about what to do about the damn thing. That fucking car is the bane of my whole life. It may be newer and prettier than the old Chevy, but it has given me more headaches than any of my old cars. If I ever get the bright idea of upgrading again, I’m gonna shoot myself.

So, yeah. Scumbag life strikes again. Things are going okay, mood seems to be in a solid space, life’s not sucking so bad…And in walks life and says, “Feeling happy and relaxed? Can’t have that, here’s a car problem you can’t fix, muhahaha.”


So now my anxiety and irritation are back.

R never contacts me on weekends so I am pretty much stuck until Monday when he deems to speak to me again. Yay. My dad would help but he knows shit about anything made past 1988. Shit, shit, shit.

I hate being dependent on anyone.

I mean, it’s drivable if you can stand the noise and don’t mind risking a noise pollution ticket. My nerves are not steady enough to deal with that risk. So I am basically crippled. I hate it.

But on the plus side, my mood hasn’t crashed into the abyss, as it usually does when shit goes wrong. I try to roll with the punches, but I can never keep my irritation from knocking me down a few pegs. Shit goes wrong,  blah blah blah. It still sucks.

Oh well. I have a cat draped over my shoulder, which is a nice feeling. Azazel is ten times the man any human male could be. He’s my snuggle bunny. Or snuggle kitty. My kid is happily playing with a yard sale toy we got before the muffler issue arose. We have a fridge full of food. No real need to run out at the moment. I have lots of housework to keep me busy. And books to read. Life’s not entirely bad, right?

I am trying soo hard to be less negative.

But life’s little fuck yous make it very difficult.

What I wouldn’t give for the perfect day. No mood swing, decent mind space, low anxiety, well behaved kid, no housework to do, no car problems, no stressful people to deal with, and a good night’s sleep. Most people want to win the lottery. I just want to have a good day for a change.


You’ve Come a Long Way, Baby

We just got back home from hitting up the sporting good store to get accessories for the bikes we purchased this week. We’ve still got some things to get (like a car mounting bracket, and comfier seats!), but we have helmets, which means we can go riding now whenever we want. Tomorrow, perhaps, we’ll make an inaugural wander.


The Desolation of Shed (lulz)

Now, my train of thought went from our bikes, to our to-be bike shed here at home. As you can see, it’s a pretty shoddy and desolate place to be (there’s also a toilet back there that you can just about see. It doesn’t have running water, but can be used in an emergency with a bucket or hose). Before my diagnosis, it was the place I would flee when everything got on top of me — a small house doesn’t give a lot of options, and this is the most remote. I’d usually have a brawl against myself, insomuch that I’d usually take Mister Whiskey with me, and then have to convince myself that it was a bad idea to give into his sexy Southern drawl. I’d usually win that battle, but man… that’s just a testament to personal stubbornness. Any less stubborn//separated from my previous drinking issues, and you betcha I’d've succumbed (even if it would have just made thing worse).

So yes, in a way, that was a step up from before. I could stop myself from drinking when my brain was doing the scumbag thing… most of the time. It was hard, but isn’t pretty much everything with an untreated mental illness? But as the struggle even with diagnosis and treatment is still damned hard, I think we forget to stop and take stock of how much better things are by comparison. Sure, they’re still nowhere near optimal or ‘normal’ (whatever normal means), but that doesn’t make the progress and the now any less important. And I consider that to be a significant step — there’s too much pressure internally and externally to forget that in the expectation that the only value and victory is ‘winning’. Pfft to that, I say — as a recovering perfectionist, I’m not falling for that crap again!

In short — I’m in a good mood today. I’m choosing to celebrate my progress, and hope that taking a moment to reflect will serve me well in continuing to enjoy those good moments as they present themselves. :)

I hope that everyone is having a great weekend!


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