Day started out okay. Paid bills.
I ordered a laptop. Hours later, I was informed it was canceled due to be out of stock. My bank is gonna keep the money on hold two weeks, though. Joy, fucking, joy.
As the day wore on, my mood continued to go down, and my anxiety progressively went up until I was in hostile irate territory.
My kid is pushing me severely. Nothing I do is right or good enough. She tells me how to play with her, how to hug her, how to do everything. I am so tired of being critiqued and my self esteem so depleted I want to wave the white flag. ENOUGH. MERCY. UNCLE.
I try so hard, I really do. And Becca is my witness. I just have an impossible Uzi child. She insinuates herself into everything, even the guys doing repair work next door can’t work without her yelling at them through the windows. She is so…domineering. Which may be a glimpse into how others see me, but again…Becca can attest to me asking her opinion and input, I don’t bulldoze unless it’s the only way to get these things done because those around me have no opinion or say “I don’t care.”
My kid, on the other hands, says, “Please ponies with me” so I do and she has to give me a script to read from and tell me what my pony should do and say and…I’m being an infant, aren’t I?
I’m just so bloody frustrated. And my self confidence is eroded to nil between the Uzi child and my own mental bullshit. I just want to crawl into a closet and hide.
Especially with what I am faced with tomorrow. TWO cookouts, one with a ton of unfamiliar people, one with my insane family. I already don’t want to deal either way. My stomach has been flip flopping with anxiety. I am filled with trepidation.
I am knee deep in a Mango-Rita and it’s not really helping quell my social anxiety. I know the spiel, “go, have a good time, it won’t be as bad as you think”. But with R’s elder daughter there and all her psychoanalyzing everyone and saying it’s all just behavioral, mental illness doesn’t exist.
There’s not enough booze on the planet to make me want to deal with her bullshit. And my family…Geesh, I’m dying to get more lectures about how hard my sister works (30 hours a week) and she’s so tired and…GAHHHH.
Paxil helping with social anxiety is bullshit. It’s done fuck all for me. And it’s really this mixture of “I don’t want to stay home and be bored and I don’t want to deny Becca the curiosity of a JUly 4th celebration” but damn it…I don’t wanna go. To either place. I am feeling weak and fragile and I don’t wanna go. It sounds childish and bratty but it is what it is. No doubt I will suck it up and go and then spend two or three days reeling and recovering while replaying every moment in my head so my self esteem can be shredded even more….
It drives me fucking nuts how one minutes I am fine, the next I feel like my brain is trying to claw its way of my skull. I’m sure it’s one more personality disorder that is all my fault but truth be told…I feel my sanity slipping away from me. My short term memory, my mental dyslexia, my iirritability…
It’s just all a careening train going off the tracks and bipolar is the conductor and my kid is right there, cheering it all on, pushing, shoving, poking me with a stick. Irrational or not, it’s how I feel. I am scared. My grandmother has Alzheimer’s and I just feel like my mind is out of my control no matter how hard I try, what if this is the downward spiral for me due to junk dna?
I sound nuts. I know I sound nuts.
But I am being honest. Brutally so.
Now…since everything is shit anyway…Bex says raw potatoes are poisonous so I am gonna go slice up another one and eat it. Maybe since everything with me is abnormal and opposite it won’t kill but will make me better.
Purple magical unicorn land.
Still…Like Mulder, I want to believe.