Existence Crisis

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TRIGGER WARNING

I have been having one hell of a morning inside my head and I need to get it out.  If you are easily upset or have issues with existence and don’t want to be depressed today then please, DO NOT READ THIS ENTRY.  Look at puppy photos instead…

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https://www.google.com/search?q=puppy+photos&rlz=1C1VFKB_enUS685US690&tbm=isch&source=iu&ictx=1&fir=3u_57kUtaKoLhM%253A%252C5KMC1IX1OWFb4M%252C_&usg=AI4_-kTAxeqlUyCGFKi3RVA5SAj-GWzyoQ&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiSvenkibbeAhUrq4MKHUZMDRcQ9QEwAXoECAMQBg#imgrc=uXQhbgOwJDe-nM:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now, For those of you that are morbidly curious, here is my thought process this morning:

What’s the point.  Not a question.  A statement.

We are born, we grow old, we die.  Done, end of story.  So what’s the point.  to have kids?  no, the world is full of death by unnatural causes, deciet, grief, and disgust.  I’m not saying that life isn’t about struggle, because it is, but why do we struggle?  We’re just going to die.

“You have to make the world a better place for the future of mankind!”  Why?  They’re going to die too.  The generations before us didn’t do shit.  Made things to make life easier and longer.  But why?  Because we’re afraid of death?  So what.  There’s nothing after this life.  NOTHING.  There’s no point in good or bad.  It’s just instinct and a societal agreement. But last i checked, SOCIETY SUCKS.  Racism is such a huge issue that i will never fully comprehend because i’m just a basic white bitch who’s terrified of going anywhere by myself.

“You live to make experiences!”  But you die in the end.  Again, no point to it.  One person cannot change the world and be fully remembered.  I’m just a stupid peon in life.I don’t know enough to help anyone and I can’t learn fast enough in order to make a difference.  I’m just a stupid preschooler.

What’s worse is I feel like I’m pushing my want to help the world onto my son.  He’s 3 and so smart.  Doctor’s and nurses tell me he’s something special and I know he is.  And it kills me to know that one day, he’ll die too.  Long after losing me and his dad.

 

I can’t even cry right now.  Every time i start, my depression and anxiety kicks in.  ‘you’re just crying to get attention.’  ‘you’re blogging for attention’ ‘you’re dead inside, just go walk in front of a bus’ ‘you’ll never make a difference in this world’ 

I can’t make them stop.  Creative output is out.  I have no drive to do anything.  No painting. No crocheting.  Just work.

All I want to do is curl up and disappear.  Just for a little while.

 

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Doing the opposite

TRIGGER WARNING…..

I’m fucking drunk.  I’m mentally ill and having a VERY bad moment… ok it’s been a few hours but wtf ever.  I am not going to be talking about fluffy kittens and unicorns.  If that is why you’re here then here:

These are not my pictures.  I just googled them.

Now, if that’s what you wanted then leave now.  It only gets darker from here.

 

 

 

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Still there?  wow.  grew a pair of ovaries did we?  whatever.  your sanity.

 

I get drunk when I have a breakdown so that shit makes sense to me.

Having a breakdown is not a picnic.  It’s a literal shitstorm in your mind.  Like everything in the world is just the same as it was, but now everything is screaming at you.  Inanimate objects, your internal voices (which apparently there’s really only supposed to be one but I have 6 so take that. XP)  Today it was the babygate that seperated the living room from the kitchen.  I scolded Mik (ben’s daughter) for the nth time for stepping over the damn thing instead of using it properly like i have asked her to do since it got put in the house last year.  It literally takes more effort to step over the damn thing than it does to open it and walk through.  I take a minute and do some sweeping trying to figure out why I don’t like it and tell her this:

“I don’t like you stepping over the gate because you are disrespecting my wishes and not using the gate properly.  Kind of like your door.  If I was to just open it as I so pleased without your permission then you get upset.  So please use the gate correctly and i’ll use your door correctly.”

her response? “well, you’ve walked in on me without my permission before”

My response. “Fine.  I’ll use your door as i please and you can just kick the gate down for all I care.  Does that work for you?” of course I”m not at muy normal talking voice but she starts telling me that i’m yelling.  loud-noises.gif

I don’t yell easily.  I just know how to project my voice to be heard over people.  It’s not yelling if i’m not straining.

I give up.  She finishes with the dishes and I continue with cleaning the damn living room, which has turned against me in my mind.  The fucking piano had evil eyes that wanted to kill me.  She goes for a walk and I finish cleaning before losing my shit.

everything is yelling in my head even though the house is silent. Fucking silent and all i can hear is screams.  I want to die.  Instead I take down the fucking gate so that I don’t have to have the god damn argument again.  I begin crying and wailing because of what the gate meant and how it was supposed to be there for david but david isn’t here anymore.  He can’t live here until ben fixes the fucking pipe.  when will that be?  Gods only know.

So I drink.  Because being drunk means my meltdown makes sense.  My blubbering and anger and the screaming everything makes more sense.  Because right now my head doesn’t.

 

That moment when…

So I don’t know about you guys, but since starting my anti-anxiety meds instead of having full-on panic attacks I will have moments of self hatred but not coming from myself. I know that doesn’t necessarily make sense but here’s one way that I can describe it:

My brain is a Megabus.

Usually everyone’s quiet and is along for the ride most of them are sleeping others are equipping in with obvious observations about the outside world. Some are even having social-psychological conversations with themselves giving me quite a bit to think about. But when I start to have a lot of anxiety they all wake up and they’re all start shouting at me, the bus driver. And they begin driving from every seat in the bus but my own. If anyone has worked in retail you will probably understand this. Being the bus driver means that I can’t react I can simply say shut up period sometimes but usually it’s just shut up.

But sometimes my mind is a terrorist.

And because I’m American I’m sure I have to sit here and explain that no I do not mean someone wearing a turban speaking Arabic or someone from another country that other less educated Americans would believe to be terrorists. I apologize if I offend anyone I really do not mean to this is not the point of my blog. I’m actually quite fascinated with cultures languages and people around the world and if you would love to talk to me please message me. Or not I would totally understand. As I have told my boyfriend you should not stick your dick in crazy or let crazy stick it stick and you. And I’m sure that correlates to messaging crazy people. But don’t quote me on that or do I don’t care. Maybe I do. Shit.

Any way back from that rant what I mean by my mind is a terrorist is the fact that sometimes those passengers who like to say mean things about how I’m driving like to jump into my lap or completely remove me from the driver seat and decide to drive it the way they want to which unfortunately is not always healthy for the bus AKA my body? Anyway so I take a an Emergency anti-anxiety pill which isn’t currently working.

I won’t bore, or scare, you with all the things that my brain tends to come up with but I can tell you that they are not nice and they are really demoralising and saddening.

Anyway, I’m currently house sitting for my best friend at the moment and will be for the next week so yay me and doing things on my own. hashtag trial run living on my own for the first time in my ever fucking life. But that story comes later.

Who can you call?

No one. Not at the moment. Ben is in the bedroom being grumpy at me because i don’t want to talk about the fact that I’m unhappy with the basement flooding with our own refuse because he refuses to skip a credit card bill or whatever to get it fixed. Instead he paid for a guy to clean out the pipes to give us “hopefully” a couple of months to save up.

My biggest problem?

Probably the fact that i made a decision as a grown ass person and mother to not allow my son to live in this house until the pipes are fixed. Hooray for me but Ben doesnt see it that way. He thinks i made a dumb decision (my words not his) to not have David here. Of course all i can think about is the fact that i still don’t have a job, I’m still living in this house, my house isn’t sold yet, I’m still not fucking divorced, and… i still can’t make a living doing anything.

Le sigh….

I know i shouldn’t try to rush things with the systems set up but I’ve been applying for jobs for months and i have nothing. I would upload my resume but that might be tmi.

Anyway… rant dinner for now. Here’s a couple of pictures i colored in to keep from hurting myself.

P.s. still thinking suicidal thoughts and they’re making me sick because all i can think of is saying goodbye to my son. The scariest thing is thinking about is how my brain is convinced he won’t miss me. *sobbing now*

The funny thing about anxiety.

anxiety doesn’t care if you’ve been having a good day or bad day. It doesnt care if you think logically or emotionally. Rationally or irrationally. Alone or with loved ones. Wide awake or dead tired. It doesnt care if you’re having fun or oon a bad mood. Rain or shine. Day or night.

Anxiety doesn’t give a flying fuckin space.

Why? Because that’s not its job. It’s job is to seek out triggers that aren’t there. Movements, shadows, sounds, smells, tastes, memories, thoughts. These are all its prey.

And what happens when it smells fear? It attacks. The only problem id’s that it’s 10 o’clock at night, both kids are asleep, you’re trying to calm yourself down so your anti anxiety pills (or Chris Pratt) can kick in and save the day.

(That booty can save me any day)

Except it won’t.

You’ll fall, hard, tearing your hair out, trying to get the screaming thoughts out but you can’t. They won’t stop no matter how much you breathe and stifle screams and cries.

But I’m lucky.

Ben heard me from the other room, came in and pulled me to my side on the floor and pressed his arms and chest on top of me. My breathing safety blanket helped me realize where i was and that i was safe. I was not being hurt or under attack. I love him so much for knowing enough about anxiety that he could be my safety.

Ps. What set me off? Thinking about my grandmother telling my mother that i told her i have PTSD as diagnosed by my psychologist. Family politics are bullshit and i won’t have it anymore.

Pps. I’m going to be saving up money to get a service dog for when i have my own apartment. Please help out by making purchases in my etsy shop.

stop watching me

TRIGGER WARNING:  I’m fucked in the head and i’m alone and paranoia has set in.  If you are triggered easily DO NOT READ THIS.

 

i feel like i’m being watched.  i’ve covered the windows in the living room so that they would stop but the motion light keeps turning on over the back door.  logic tells me that it’s the wind and the chimes but i can’t stop the feeling of terror that rushes over me.  I can’t stop the fear that freezes me to listen to footsteps that i know aren’t really there.

 

I hate myself.  i’m scaring my partner, and if i’m perfectly honest i’m scaring myself.  I know a way to calm myself but I can’t because that means going outside and if I go outside then i’ll be in trouble because then they’ll get me.  I can’t be alone.  they watch me when i’m alone.

I have the dogs this time.  To help with my reality checks.  The problem is that i haven’t used these dogs as my reality checks before.  When i moved in with ben, he was my reality check.  now, i’m alone.

 

stop watching me.

Thursday struggles

Trigger warning: anxiety, depression, self harm.
Please, don’t take me for a fool fore i won’t take you as one. But i swear, the pictures began talking to me. 

Let me explain, my job is to sort preschool pictures, weigh them, and dump them. The reasons are too complex to explain in this blog but if you really want to know, shoot me an email. 

At work i like to listen to audiobooks to escape the drole of paper repititiously being moved along desks and hands.   Plus it gives a louder voice for all the other ones to sit in a circle during story time and try to relax. 

Unfortunately, they were given too much sugar and won’t sit down, let alone listen to the story. So i tried to ground, breathing in and pushing out roots to try to bring me back to myself.  Next time I’m bringing a rope. 

Today is a day for flying. I want to go home and curl up in my blankets and sleep all day. I cant focus and makes working even more difficult. I actual stared  at my box cutter and had thoughts of self harm to try to bring me back to myself. I haven’t so far today and I’ll continue trying to keep myself in the building. 

Thank the gods that i have therapy today. 

P.S. the book I’m listening to is A Study in Scarlet Women by Sherry Thomas.  I highly recommend it.