Just wanted to say “have a nice week” to everyone. I’ll be away.
I hope you all have the easiest week possible!!!! ❤
Just wanted to say “have a nice week” to everyone. I’ll be away.
I hope you all have the easiest week possible!!!! ❤
I know it’s not the anniversary. But, I’m watching Good Morning America’s 40 year celebration and they showed the impact into the first Tower.
And I started to cry.
I abandoned another post that I really want to write, because I had to get this out.
We all remember where we were. We all remember who we were with. I did not know anyone who died. I didn’t know anyone involved. I knew people who knew people who were there. I knew people who knew people who died.
I used to follow a blog called Tomato Nation that I loved. She lived in New York and she was there. Her post from that day is an amazing look into what it was like downtown.
Now, we are at a point in history where we need to decide if we are going to help the refugees from Syria to come to America. You know, the one built on immigrants backs. The one that welcomes the huddled masses. The one that was founded on the freedom of religion.
And the one that was scared shitless on 9/11/2001.
Now, Muslims are bad. Immigrants are not to be trusted no matter how they got here.
Our enemies are winning. They are winning because they have succeeded in making us terrified. We no longer just live our lives. We are patted down at the airport and don’t find it a problem any longer. We cringe if there is a middle eastern person waiting to get on the same plane as us. We have turned middle eastern people into people to fear, without getting to know them.
We have allowed the terrorists to continue to terrorize us. Yes, they are still active and attacks still happen. But, bad things have always happened. And people have always bounced back.
I don’t mean to be insensitive. I have the utmost respect for the first responders and the subsequent responders. If my employer would have let me take the time off, I would have been there helping. I have the utmost sympathy for those people directly affected by the events of 9/11 by the loss of family and or friends.
The images from that day are burned into our brains. I know people who have vowed to never fly again. And there are people whose agoraphobia is likely to be attributed to terrorism.
I know I’m just kind of babbling, but my thoughts are very disorganized today.
I just had to get it out.
And Sars still has never located Don. (if you read the link you’ll understand)
I woke up this morning pissed off. I really hate that. Even if I had weird or bad dreams, I would hope that I would be at least relieved to wake up. But, pissed off? Hate.
I did have some kind of weird dream last night. I don’t remember it, but I woke myself up explaining something to someone. I hate waking up because I’m talking. It’s so weird.
I know it’s probably the cast. It’s so hard to get anything done at all. I wish, if I had to break something, that it would have been my left arm. I’m willing to accept the break. I just want it to change to the other arm.
We leave for vacation on Saturday. I have a LOT to do to get us ready. We haven’t been on a real actual vacation in over four years. Considering how hard hubby works, he really deserves it.
Had pdoc appointment yesterday. She had lowered my Lamictal from 200 to 100 a few weeks ago, and that has worked out pretty well. My memory is returning and I’m able to have conversations without spacing out in the middle. My moods have been generally decent. The one major issue is how fast the moods can change. I don’t see the change coming. It happens in the time it takes to snap your fingers. I can’t defend against that. By the time it happens, it’s already too late.
Considering that, it probably seems counterproductive to request that she lower my Seroquel XR as well. I can no longer handle the weight issue. I would rather be crazy and only 50 pounds overweight then 100 pounds overweight. She didn’t want to do it. But, I’ve been screwing around with the same 3 pounds for weeks and I’ve had it. If I hate my body (which I do) the depression and anger from that is going to affect the moods anyway.
I’ve been reading your blogs, although I’m rarely commenting because it’s so hard to type. I can stand it long enough for a small post, but not much else.
Here’s hoping the anger fades before I have to brave Walmart this morning.
I’m already done.
stick a fork in me
stop talking to me
stop narrating your day
I don’t care
if you are going to be contrary
then please piss off
I took my sling off for a few minutes, because I just needed to write. The cast is actually easier to deal with than not being able to straighten out my elbow. But, I am keeping my elbow bent while doing this.
Today I had to go to our electricity co-op’s general elections. Now, I think it will be a few months yet before I really start delving into how our nation’s presidential race is shaping up. You gotta know I couldn’t give a shit about the electric co-op presidential race. But, if you go and you vote you get $30.00 off your next electric bill. Awesome. Sign. Me. Up.
MIL took me. We were actually going to hang out for the meeting (not required to get the $30). There are lots of door prizes and there are usually not that many people who stay. So, you can collect the “must be present to win” vouchers off people that are leaving and get a better chance at winning something. Grand prize – Jeep. So the plan was to stay.
Until I went into the room where the meeting was to be held. No. Way. Just…not gonna happen. There were a couple hundred people already in there. Loud music was playing and the temperature rose 10 degrees from the outside temperature. I got 20 paces into the room, turned to MIL and said “We’re leaving”.
To her credit, she was game either way.
One of my favorite things used to be going to the mall at Christmastime (never ever ever ever Black Friday…ever) and doing my shopping. I would find Santa to see if the mall had hired a “good” Santa. I would wander through the Hallmark Store. Find the Pepperidge Farm stand and buy some sausage and cheese for my grandparents (they loved that stuff). And shoe store surf for cool boots and 4″ heels.
There were people everywhere. And it was warm. And there was music playing.
Apparently those three things are my kryptonite now.
I never particularly liked the warm temps. But the rest? At Christmas I relished it and at other times had no problem with it.
Now? Well, now I can’t deal with any of it.
And I hate it.
I always have been a homebody, but still, I did enjoy those things as well. Now, I couldn’t be bothered to leave my house except for the basics. Doctor appts, grocery shopping and that’s pretty much it.
And I hate it.
I structure the days I leave the house very very carefully. I must go around to the various errands in order. I must always start at one place and circle around, never ever backtracking, until I come back home.
MIL’s plan of attack for how we would accomplish the day’s errands, including voting, was not in the “proper” order. I’m in the cast for 6 weeks so she has drawn chauffeur detail. Now I have to teach her that there is a proper order for doing things. The less backtracking that you do, the faster you get home. It’s crucial.
I like to pass it off as time management. But it’s not. And no amount of wishing is going to change that.
This is the agoraphobia with panic disorder part of this mental diagnosis soup.
I don’t particularly care for it honestly. I will be looking forward to doing something and as the time approaches I start looking for excuses for why I can’t go. I know I might have fun, but I have also sabotaged so many outings because I have become angry that I couldn’t get out of it.
I think that not having my own transportation is probably why this is at the forefront of my thoughts right now. I’m noticing it more. The insurance company called today and told me how much I would be receiving. It’s more than I was expecting so…YAY. The penny pincher in me feels like I should not replace the car and use that money on bills.
But the Mental Illness is demanding and it wants a car.
Once again the logical side of my brain and the emotional side are at war. Pushing, pulling, back and forth, until I want to throw up from the motion sickness.
I wish that I had been able to sit through that meeting today.
But I wish I could experience the mall at Christmas time more.
My husband is a hunt and peck typer. I am not. I took the class in high school to learn to type and have had jobs my entire life that required that skill. So, I’ve only gotten better over time.
Since I use my computer so much, some of the letters have worn off of the keys. Hubby wanted me to fix it, but I didn’t care because I didn’t need the letters on the keys, I don’t even look at the keyboard when I type.
My busted up wrist and elbow has me in a cast that means I’m reduced to hunt and peck typing as well. And the word off letters is now a problem for me as well.
So hubby fixed it
Oh and I have developed an abscess under my eye, potentially from the dust from the airbag. I look so sexy now it is just ridiculous.
We go on vacation with my parents next week. I told them to expect no photographic evidence that I was ever there.
Yesterday, MIL came to me and she was upset. She doesn’t feel welcome here. She thinks I don’t like her. It makes her miss her husband even more than she already does and exacerbates her depression.
We had a nice talk. I wrote most of our issues off to med changes, car accident issues and other minor things.
Most of it was a crock of shit.
My MIL is a wonderful person. I know that I vent about her a lot here, but the issues that I have with her are not because she’s a bad person. The issues I have are small examples of larger issues that have nothing to do with her. They are things that make me feel as though I am losing what little control I feel I have.
So, now I don’t know what to do. I have to modify my thinking somehow. Because there are certain facts that are just not going to change. She’s 66. She is who she is going to be. And she will live with us until she dies.
But, again, the things that bug me about her are just symptoms of larger issues that I have.
For instance: MIL is Captain Obvious. “You didn’t bring your purse with you” (I’m aware of that), “the sky is blue” (really?) blah blah blah
I can’t stand talking for the sake of talking. I don’t know why it makes me nuts, but I get very agitated when I’m dealing with that. But, that is something I have to deal with. I need to learn to modify my reactions, so that I don’t end up getting super snitty when she does it. Because, she is not going to change. I must.
I think that is one of the hardest parts of mental illness. We must find a way to modify our emotional reactions, as they tend to be too extreme. However, we must also be able to tell when our reactions are too extreme, and when they are appropriate. Because, we have the right to have emotions. But, if we want to live in society, with our family and friends, we have to try to keep those extreme reactions under control. We also need to be able to figure out if someone is being horrible to us (or around us) or if our reaction to their actions is even justified.
That’s a lot to think about before we allow our reactions to show. And it’s exhausting. I question every single thing that I think, say or do to see if I’m over-reacting. I’m constantly exhausted and most of it is just from trying to control my moods and emotions.
And, it would appear, that I’m failing in figuring all of that out, at least as far as my home life is concerned.
I know it’s a process.
I know it’s a lifelong struggle.
But, I’m making someone else uncomfortable with my inability to control these things.
And, that makes me very sad and frustrated.
My car accident was almost a week ago now. But, the effects are becoming more and more intrusive. And my mood is starting to suffer.
It appears that the hospital missed a broken wrist. I’m still waiting for the specialist to call and set up an appointment after the x-ray I had on thursday afternoon. The pcp called Friday to inform me that there is a small fracture and they were referring me to this specialist.
Meanwhile, I’m in pain.
The bruises are turning some beautiful shades of green and yellow and in some places still a nice deep purple. I look like someone beat me across the shins over and over again.
And it hurts
My car is totaled. I loved my car. Still, better the car then me. But, yesterday I realized something very crucial. Something that made the depression really begin to rise.
I’m trapped. If I want to flee this house and get away from everyone, I can’t. I’m stuck here. Never mind that I shouldn’t drive anyway with a fractured wrist. But the absolute inability to flee should the need occur is freaking me out.
Running away is one of those things that I do every so often when I feel like I have so much (self) blame on me that I just have to run away to try to get out from underneath it all. Now, even if my wrist were better, I’m stuck. There will be no running away to be by myself. Last year I drove to the hospital and sat in the parking lot and cried and cried and cried. I figured 1) it was somewhere I could go and cry and no one would really question it and 2) I couldn’t decide whether I needed to go to the ER for help, but if I was parked there it would be easy.
I’m seriously behind in reading blogs. I may have to skip a day or two to catch up. I feel the subtle slide downward. All I want to do is sleep. I’m actually considering going back to bed now, even though I’ve been there for more then 12 hours already.
Safe now. Slowly sliding.
Trigger Warning…I’m discussing my car accident yesterday and how it has tied into my suicidal ideation
If this is something that may bother you, please change the channel. I don’t want to make anyone’s day harder than it has to be.
The car accident I had yesterday would not have killed me. It was rough, but I was wearing my seatbelt and I had lots of airbags. I had never been in an accident with airbag deployment before and I was terrified. But, I was glad to be alive. I took stock of my physical self, decided what hurt and what didn’t and tried to decide what to do. Call the cops. Call hubby. Get someone to help me decide how hurt I actually am. The 911 operator insisted on knowing if I was hurt. I was just as insistent that I didn’t know. Yes I was in pain, but I have no idea if it’s serious. Finally I just told her to send the ambulance. Better safe than sorry I suppose. Plus, it shut her up. Don’t get me wrong. I’m extremely grateful for her assistance. But, I have a hard time when people ask me the same questions over and over and over and I don’t have the answer.
The police showed, the fire departments showed (I couldn’t answer whether there were fluids leaking from the car) and my ambulance. Into a C-collar and onto a gurney. Finally being able to see that there was no blood anywhere and being able to stand meant nothing was broken in my legs.
As I was wheeled into the ambulance, I got my first look at my car from the outside. It didn’t look too bad. Passenger side headlight was broken, but not too bad, considering. Until I talked to my husband.
He had to pass the accident site on the way to the hospital. He said the passenger side of the car is destroyed. He said that it’s pushed over into the driver’s side somewhat. I’m so glad I didn’t have a passenger.
Last year at this time, I was trying to figure out how to use my car to kill myself. Had to look like an accident, I needed the life insurance to pay out.
Now, I’ve been in a serious accident and I’m so glad I wasn’t seriously hurt. This was not a touch and go life threatening situation that has made me see the light. This was a regular accident that people go through every single day. But for me it was also an emotional enlightenment.
I don’t want to die…..
I don’t know what I was thinking, when I thought that suicide by car would be a good plan. Hell, I don’t know why I thought suicide would be a good plan period. But, that’s really the rub isn’t it? Whatever it is that we are thinking when we are suicidal is false thinking. For me, it is a combination of not knowing how I am going to survive through the next minute because the mental anguish is so pronounced and a desire to have my family not have to suffer through more of my uselessness any more than absolutely necessary.
Right now, things are good enough that I do not have suicidal ideation. My moods have been up and down, but I have been lucky enough that suicide hasn’t entered into the constant conversation I have with myself.
I’m grateful that I wasn’t hurt more then I was. I’m grateful that I’m not dead.
I’m grateful that this experience has made me take notice of, and be happy about, not wishing myself dead.
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