Daily Archives: February 16, 2018

I’m in the Right Place

The bottle has found its way back into my hands. Down my throat. Into my marriage. As it ALWAYS does, when I let it. This was a choice I clearly made. The bottle didn’t jump into my grocery bag, into the “juice” to help make it go down faster. I picked it up clear as day. I placed it into the grocery basket and quickly covered it with my tote bag. Just another shopper. Surely people buy vodka at noon in workout gear all the time. Like every other third day. In a hat. Looking down. Making small talk as the bagger places the big fat bottle into your cute little tote….AGAIN.
Obviously I am no stranger to this scenario. Unfortunately, I have lived this the last 3 weeks or so. My grand excuse, which kinda has some validity, is anxiety. I had an interview. Right. Many many folks go through an interview each and every day. We all need money to survive this crazy world. To get in the door, magic words need to zing off the paper and capture attention. Then, the smile and enthusiasm must come through as pressured questions are fired at you during an interview. Pressured answers swirl around the mind. Yes…leadership. Of course I’ve shown it this way. Motivation..of course its just an internal quality. What would I do in this situation..well, let me tell you. I am fucking marvelous. Enough said.
No call backs. Only rejection emails. Thanks..yada yada yada. But, my mind won’t stop the nonsense of obsessing about what I should have said. I did think the interview went well. I wasn’t qualified in some ways, but perhaps overqualified in others. So, I was okay with the outcome I thought. My mind continuously reminded me day after day, night after night, of better answers. For fuck’s sake why didn’t you say you are a mandated reporter. Geez, its obvious you could handle a fire in the galley. Did you say that..NO! Without warning or cause, these thoughts bombarded me. It was tooooo much.
So down the liquid went. The courage I have now in social situations is amazing. Look at me talking you up, making promises, suggestions. Then the next day left wondering what I might have said. Did I make a lunch date? Oh shit. Am I supposed to be somewhere, return a call? Black out drinking has become my specialty as of late. The anxiety this causes only steers the anxiety ship further into deep waters. The self doubt depths I am in now is horrendous. I can’t touch bottom. Floating in ambiguity is so painful. Why do I allow my ship to reach such treacherous waters? Why don’t I reach to shore sooner?
The bottle is mesmerizing. Problem solver guru of sorts. Ensures confidence. Promises success with its secret power. Secret. Super secret plan.
My footsteps are so heavy right now. Full of guilt. Shame. Disgust. How can I be here again? Seriously. I’m working out. I’m painting. I’m cleaning the house. I’m paying attention to my cat. Alone. I’m alone. Unstructured time has always been my enemy. For whatever reason. Its not the right time to figure that piece out. I just know it doesn’t work for me. But, its my reality right now. Home alone, with a lot of time on my hands. What to do? What to do?
Pass the tissues please as I sit in an AA meeting and raise my vulnerable shaking hand to say I am a newcomer once again. Tears fall. I fumble my name just a bit. I am told I am in the right place. Smiles of reassurance abound. Familiar faces greet me with a hug. There wasn’t a sigh of relief per se. But a deep breath out, allowing the thought of recovery in. Okay. Just maybe I Am in the right place.

Revisiting Valentine’s Day

I am late for Valentine’s again; however, I wanted to revisit a post from two years ago. While it is not one of the more upbeat posts I have written, it is definitely one where I portray the raw truth that is or was my life. This year we went out for fish and chips …

A Tale of 2 Breaks (My Broken Jaw & My Blogging Hiatus)

My jaw!   Last Saturday afternoon I was walking by myself on a flat, concrete surface a few blocks away from our house. It was a sunny, beautiful day. I finally felt healthy after having reached my LoseIt! weight loss … Continue reading


Going out with Marlo to a new place for lunch called Fine and Dandy. I’m not sure about the dress code so I am spiffing up a bit to go out to it.  Marlo suggested it so there we go.  I’m looking forward to seeing her–she’s always so busy it’s hard to get together with her.  But I am glad we are friends.

I’ve lost the little bit of weight I gained back over the holidays, so that is good.  I now only have 91 pounds to lose. But it’s a start.  I think i will give up sweet tea starting today. I need to do it so i might as well start.’

I have had trouble getting going today.  I will need to do laundry when I get back.    I should have done it this morning but I was lazy and didn’t.  But I should be able to finish it before tonight.

Hope everyone has a good day and a great weekend. We will be birthday partying so will be busy.  Wish us luck!


Why Am I Awake?

My kid’s not even home and yet, I woke at 6:30 with no sunlight or alarm to rouse me. Immediately my brain went into hyperdrive with all the worries I have on my plate on top of my mental baggage and while I ducked under the covers and vegetated in bed a few more minutes…between Godsmack pawing at my door telling me she wants attention and noms and my own racing brain and thudding heart…Eff it, I’m awake now. DAMNIT.

Only good thing I can say is I did go to bed before 9 p.m. last night and once I went to sleep…I slept. I kept waking up, thinking I heard my kid calling mommy, but I went back to sleep. Which I suppose is a good thing but then, going to bed so early, I had hoped maybe I’d wake around 1 a.m. with a little energy and maybe do some housework or something. The entire situation-including the mental baggage-has me worn to a frazzle, I guess what my mind and body needed more than anything was rest and a break from the hell of consciousness.

And make no mistake…the last four months of my life consciousness has amounted to hell.

Since I cannot rely on my mental health professionals to keep doctors, let alone employ competent ones, the best I can do is keep writing these journal entries in hopes they speak volumes should I come up for review.

Believe me, if I were on the mend, I’d be the first to say so. Last year, I had hope for a few weeks that I’d found my magic bullet med combo. Then came the seasonal depression and the overload of demands and the extra anxiety the Trintellix caused and I went right back down the rabbit hole. I ALMOST HAD MY FEET UNDER ME!!! To have that happen repeatedly disgusts me to no end and used to, I could take solace in what every doctor and counselor had told me: you have a medical condition and it limits your functionality, at least you try your hardest, cut yourself some slack occasionally.

These days it’s all ‘behavior’ related so no slack can be cut, no empathy can be shown. It’s all “change your own behavior, problem solved.” That makes me so furious I can’t even find words. I have changed so much of my behavior I am barely myself anymore and little of those changes has done a bit of good toward my mental issues.

So here I go facing a 4 day weekend with my kid, feeling beaten down and bloodied, not a cent to my name, and I’m supposed to what…do jumping jacks until my feelings change because my problems are behavioral?

Then do tell why I pump all these poison pills into my system if the powers that be can just magically verbally bully me into ‘behaving’ myself.

I’d wave the white flag on it all if I didn’t know, from repeated personal experience, that 80% of my problems are related to my mental disorders and CAN be helped with medication. I sure don’t keep going to doctors who make me feel worse and taking pills that often make me feel much worse to benefit their bank accounts and big pharma. I know the right medication combo can mean the difference between feeling dead but alive or feeling like there’s much worth living for.

And if aiming for the latter is a behavioral problem…our mental healthcare system is guilty of behaving badly.

I Wore A Bra Today, Now Can I Go To Bed?

It’s not even 7 p.m., I am kid free, and honestly…I am ready to go to bed. The depression is like being encased in concrete and even when I have a day or few hours where I can chisel out enough to be upright and function…it feels exhausting, taxing, not worth my while.

At least I EARNED this sticker today.

I know, it’s such a silly thing, basic female fashion necessity and yet…When I wear bras, I feel like I am being constricted and my skin is being bruised and honestly, it makes me freak out to feel ‘bound’. No 50 Shades Of Grey here unless my sweater puppies get to be Freed. (Argh, the movies are so awful, it makes me never want my writing to be published lest it become that…icky.) Anyway…bras suck. Dudes, be thankful you don’t have to deal with ’em.

The car continued to give me problems when I went out for more errands. I got stuck in my mom’s muddy driveway. The damn machine died ten times before I got to the school. I was relieved, at least, that the teacher is a relative noob so she didn’t realize two p/t conferences weren’t mandatory. As it turns out…my kid is reading at a 5th grade comprehension and very, very bright. She has a lack of confidence in her mathwork and hates gym to the point of creating ailments every single day but otherwise…the teacher is amazed how smart Spook is. YAY! So I haven’t screwed her up scholastically, and the teacher was understanding about our current anxiety inducing circumstances maybe causing Spook to be high maintenance. Point is…MY KID IS FREAKING BRILLIANT not just at reading and writing, but she is even doing well in math. ICK. Math beyond basics is lost on me. Snoozefest. Or migrainefest. Pass.

After that, the car died six times going to Salvation Army. I filled out paperwork, they gave me a list of landlord possibilities and said they could hold my paperwork for 2 weeks and help a little if I found anything before the papers expire.

Guess what?

Not only am I almost out of phone time….Ha ha ha, my anxiety is so high, making calls freaks me out! And that’s a norm for me, I dislike phones immensely unless they are for my convenience. (One of the best things about being rid of R is being rid of all his texting and calls-at-any-hours, so stressing). I’m not sure what to do about the phone thing. Guess I can go to mom’s but hey…

On the way home…the car started jerking wildly and I thought I had a flat but no, it’s the damned car itself. Transmission is failing!!!! It was all I could do to keep her running and putt along to the driveway.

So all in all…one more sucky day to add to many.

And I am ready for bed, as much as that galls me. It was 60 degrees today, I should be somewhat revived by that, at least. Though drizzle and gloom contribute as much as cold. Still…Everything is going wrong. I haven’t gotten a single donation. Seriously, how pathetic must I be when I can’t even raise $20? And this is IMPORTANT. If you hate me, fine, but think about my kid. She could cure your cancer someday. Or murder you in your sleep. It can go either way with kids.

I’m just defeated by it all and the depression says it’s time to tune out and rest.

What I want to do is WRITE. Immerse myself in a fictional world less sucky than my own because that is what makes me feel alive, what makes me happy, what makes me breathe.

But because my brain won’t behave, I can’t even have the thing I want most.

Oh, and for the record…I am NOT FUCKING AMUSED by healthcare’s new classification of mental healthcare as ‘behavioral problem management”.

If I had a CHOICE to not behave like a bipolar depressed anxiety crippled person, I sure as hell would, you ignorant fucks.

Behavioral treatment. Yeah, sure, that’s all mental illness is. Behavioral.

Because wanting to curl up into a ball and sleep forever to escape your own mind is a wonderful way to live, totally by choice and behavior.

Now my behavioral problems and I are going to…well, behave poorly by going to bed very early because sleep is better than feeling like you went ten rounds with Tyson then had the medical establishment spit in your face for daring to behaviorally bleed.