Waiting on a phone call.

 I don't know what to do. I'm just about ready to cry for no damn reason. My anxiety is creeping up higher every day. My sleep just isn't happening. As soon as the anxiety stuff wears off, I'm starting to wake up again. Last night, I woke up at 3 am and was in a minor panic wondering where I was. I eventually fell back to sleep. Other nights on this medication, I get real tired about an hour after I take it but it takes me about another half hour to actually fall asleep because my brain just keeps running in circles.

I'm coming to suspect what this mild/moderate depression that I've been dealing with for the last year is my acclimating to the medication that I'm on. I've called my doctor. (He literally called me as I was writing that sentence. He's made a big adjustment to one of my medications. I'll be talking to him next week to see how it goes. He's not sure if I've acclimated or if this is a temporary stress response. As such this med change is in effect for a month to see how it goes.)

I just want to cry. I feel like I have some how fucked up because my brain chemistry isn't working right. I hate this. My executive function hasn't been the best, which makes doing things like typing up blog posts hard. It makes remembering to pay the bills on time hard too. I feel like I'm a horrid person. I know that all of this goes right back to my parents telling me that I was just seeking attention when I was having problems with depression and their attitude that we have complete control over our thoughts and emotions. My depression was my refusing to cooperate or it was my not trying hard enough. It was never treated as though something was wrong, except as an inconvenience and problem for my parents.

I'm tired. A rant.

 I know that my cousin got married on the original date. I know this because of the pics that got posted on FB. I know that my family and my niece got the snub for the original wedding because of cards that were sent out asking us to save the date for the postponed wedding. My niece got her card in the mail. I got a blurry photo sent to me via text. 

Now, look, I've got a lot on my plate. My cousin wants to do a vow renewal, that's fine. It's a bit unorthodox to do it not even a full year after the wedding but whatever. Covid happened and made shit weird. But they're presenting it as it's the 'real' wedding and acting like the other one didn't happen. Straight up lies.

I'm tired. I haven't got the time to run around and chase people down to have a relationship with them if they're not going to put the effort in to reach out to me. When it's been almost ten years since we last spoke and you contact me to come to a wedding, snub me, and then tell me you want me at the 'real' wedding, you don't want me there. You want me and my family as a prop to say 'look the whole family is together again.'

I'm nobody's prop. I'm not going to let a damn person on the face of this world use my family as a prop to make themselves feel good at the expense of our time, welfare, and sound mind. I know that mixing with my side of the family is putting a lit match together with gasoline. It's been long enough. I've grown secure enough in myself. I'm not going back into that damn toxic box they expect me to fit into. And I'll be damned if I let them attempt to push my kids around.

So, no, we're not going to this farce. We're not going to participate in this lie and perpetuate the fiction that the family is 'normal' and such. It's not. It's toxic as fuck. There's a reason why I walked away and every day I see and hear more evidence that it was the right decision for the sake of my health and the welfare of my children.

You want to have a relationship with me, you reach out to me once in a while. I'm too damn tired and too damn busy to go chasing everyone down to make them feel better that Debby talked to them. Sorry, but no. It got made real clear to me when I was down in Wellsville who gave a damn. And of the four of them, three are dead.

Go have your fancy fucking party and bitch about how high handed you think I've become. I never said that I thought I was better than you. You keep saying it. Maybe you're just now recognizing that maybe I am. Because your behavior is proving your point. I don't cause drama. I walk away from it. I post about it anonymously and make generic statements because I know that at some point one of you are going to stumble across this blog.

I never thought I was better than you. It took me years of therapy and help to realize that I am better than you. You made me think I was subhuman because I was born without a penis. So, go fuck yourselves and leave me and mine alone. You never wanted me around before. Fuck off into the aether and complain about how I broke the family.

Wut r werds?

 I haven't been sleeping well. I have been super anxious about writing and creative expression. Honestly, I've been super anxious about pretty much everything. So, I talked to my doctor and we're tweaking my meds to see if they can resolve the sleep problem. That's great and all, except I had a panic attack last night over the fact that I was taking a new medication and a part of me was convinced it was going to negatively interact with my other medications and kill me. I only calmed down when all of the medication kicked in and then I had a bit of a hard time falling asleep because I was still ratcheted up on a slightly lower key.

I finally fell asleep only to wake up at 4 in the morning. I have no idea why I keep waking up at 4 am. I don't know if I do it every night or not. I know that when I remember it, how long I stays awake varies. Some nights are like last night, I'm awake about long enough to curse the damn clock and then fall back to sleep. Other nights, I'm just awake for the day. I honestly can't say how frequently it happens because my memory has been wonky for the last few months because of things like ptsd triggers and my bipolar being a pain in the ass.

My short term memory isn't completely shot. But it's not as good as it typically is. My doctor is pretty sure that the sleep disruption is the problem. Which makes sense, because if you're not getting a solid night's worth of sleep, your brain doesn't work right. My executive functioning isn't doing too hot either. Again, a casualty of poor sleep. I have a feeling there's going to be a shift in my medication because of this, like a permanent shift. I don't know what it is going to be, but when I talk to the doctor on Thursday I'm going to try to remember to detail what I'm having difficulty with.

In the mean time, I'm attempting to be more authentic in my presentation to the world. I read somewhere over the last week that a woman over 40 shouldn't wear the weight of other's opinions. (Beloved argued that no woman should wear the weight of other's opinions and that no body should be policing anybody's bodily presentation. I love this guy for so many reasons, his outrage that the argument wasn't inclusive enough is but one of them.) As a result of the meme that I saw, I realized I really could wear whatever the hell I wanted as long as I was comfortable and not breaking any nudity laws.

So, I've taken to wearing that leather collar around the house. I feel more like myself in it. I'm not ready to be wearing it out and about beyond to the mailbox and back. It's just a matter of getting more comfortable with the concept that I can wear what I want and no one is going to punish me or my kids for it. Who knows, maybe at some point I'll wear goth style stuff again if I can find it in my size that's comfortable. Interestingly, the alternate 'collars' that I've been wearing have all developed some kind of issue that made them difficult to wear. There was one that I kinda liked that was fit similar to the leather collar that just fell to pieces. Another one that I liked was a lighter weight choker style necklace that I hadn't had any problems reacting to suddenly started causing me to react to it. I'm most disappointed that the macramé choker that I've had for forever started to unravel. 

The kids are completely indifferent to what I'm wearing and are more concerned about what's for dinner and if they're going to get into trouble for their latest antics. The neighbors that we have immediately about us who see me on a semi regular basis haven't batted an eye. It helps that they're under 30. I am not likely going to wear this to our weekly visits with the in-laws just because I think it would make them uncomfortable. I have other styles of collars that I made to wear that are not quite as comfortable as the leather one, but to the random bystander they look like funky necklaces.

But, I've come to realize that I can't play the mostly vanilla housewife anymore. I started because it was expected of me by people around me. It has been stifling. When I started covering my hair, I felt a bit better and a bit more authentic. Then the community's xenophobia came into bloom and I switched to wearing kerchiefs 90% of the time. Now, I just can't do it anymore. I think part of my need for authentic expression via my manner of dress and such is part of why I struggle with depression so much.

I'm working to get myself back to the level of authenticity I had when I was out and away from the farm in my 20s. I was happier and I felt more like myself then. I may not be a skinny thing anymore but I'm not trying to drop weight. This isn't about looking like I'm 20. This is about recapturing some of that mindset of "this is who I am, deal with it." I'm pretty sure if I can accomplish that, I will feel much better in many ways.

It's funny, I've been struggling with writing but I cranked out this whole post with out too much difficulty. Maybe this effort to be more authentic will lead to a place where I can write with out fear again.

Writer's block sucks.

 So after the wonderful experience of a depressive episode and a mixed episode, I have writer's block. I am consumed with anxiety when I sit down to write which makes it just about impossible to do. Same feelings hit me when it comes to other forms of creative expression. I'm just not doing well on this front. I feel a rather significant amount of despair that my writing is futile and that I am shouting into the void. I have always been taught that writing is having a conversation with your reader. It is hard to have a one sided conversation.

The same part of me that is full of despair over my writing having any worth is telling me to delete all my blogs and abandon all of my projects because it will never go anywhere worthwhile. I know that this is a passing thing. It still hurts, however. I will pick up my pen and try again, because eventually this mood hangover from being unwell will lift and I will be able to get back to work. I just need to be patient. It's only been a week since the mixed episode ended and it tends to take me a little bit to bounce back from it. 

Finally out of the mixed episode, what's next?

 After a month of basically being non-functional between my cptsd acting up, a depressive episode, and a mixed episode, I don't know where to begin to pick up the pieces and get back to work. I'm not quite clear headed as I try to get things sorted out. I still have my anxiety bothering me. I'm still pretty emotional, but this is because it's that time of the month again.

I am vexed because I am sufficiently terrified of having an allergic reaction to the vaccine for Covid-19 that I am having a hard time thinking when it comes to getting the shot. Add to that the fact that it's a crap shoot as to when vaccination times are available anywhere and we're not sure who is giving out which vaccine, there's a lot of unknowns that are making it hard to get through this process.

I am so frustrated and tired of not being able to just do things like I could before bipolar came on the scene. It was hard with just the cptsd in the picture, but I could bulldoze my way through to some extent and make things happen. I kinda collapsed afterwards but I made shit happen even when I wasn't feeling well. Now, I simply don't have the energy to do it anymore. I remember having the energy. I'm so angry that I can't force myself past my fear and make this happen.

It is complicated by the fact that in the time it took for me to go from absolute terror to 'I think I can do this.' (which was only a few minutes) all of the open time slots for getting the vaccine were filled. I'm so frustrated with myself I could just about cry. I can't do that, however, because the boys get scared when I cry. I spend a lot of time forcing myself to be stoic about difficulties and misfortune because anything else distresses the kids. And when I am in a depressive episode, I have to work even harder not to break down because the kids know I'm not well and they worry about me.

It makes me feel awful that my sons worry about my welfare. I feel guilty for it. And there isn't anything I can do to magically make everything all better. Because, there is no cure for diabetes or bipolar. I do my best to put on a brave face and push forward. But it is exhausting and gets harder whenever my brain isn't functioning properly. April was a bad month.

I started the month out mildly depressed. Then there was the whole business about Cuddle Bear getting a psych evaluation that triggered my cptsd and then a serious depressive episode hit for two weeks. The depression acted as a trigger for my cptsd and I was having emotional flashbacks left and right. Then the mixed episode came and just wouldn't go away. It was awful. By some minor miracle, my brain was close to fully normal when it was Sunday. I wasn't Fighty McFightface but able to keep control over my responses to everything and hold my temper in check.

There was stuff that pissed me off, but I focused on my knitting and did my best to ignore it. If I could have gotten away with just leaving, I would have because the longer we were there the less I wanted to be there. The kids had a good time. Beloved was feeling kinda how I was, tired and like we were just bodies there. It was Easter. It's a Christian holiday and we're not Christians. There wasn't a lot of 'Yay, Jesus is Risen.' going on, but there was a good deal of discussion about how much they disliked not going to church because they missed their community.

I swallowed my bile and refrained from making comments about how they should be thankful for the fact that they have a community and can practice their religion safely, with out any restrictions on it. But, the inconvenience of Covid-19 protocols brought out complaints about how it wasn't the same and some grumbling that the government was treading on people's toes. If I was still in a mixed state, I would have made those sharp comments and that'd be when the fight started.

I am so angry with how being inconvenienced is a bigger problem in their minds than the public health hazard of Covid-19. I figure they just all forgot I am part of the population it could kill. I figure they all just forgot that I have been stuck in my home unable to even go out grocery shopping for the last year. And I know that there was no consideration of the negative impact this would have had upon my mental health. But, you know, the fact that they couldn't go to church on Easter with out making a reservation or going to a Zoom session is a bigger problem than the idea that someone could catch this thing and be an asymptomatic carrier and kill people. 

If you list to the way they tell it, Covid-19 is dangerous to people who are in nursing homes and over the age of 60. It's been a year of this kind of talk. Throw in some comments about "oh, so-and-so is diabetic and in frail health and they've been stuck at home all the time" while ignoring me sitting right there, it has been a hard year of keeping silence. And now they're acting like the vaccine is no big deal and saying that people who are worrying about allergic reactions are nervous Nellies. And some indignation that they had to wait for the lines of people who were ahead of them.

It's been made clear who in my life give a damn about other people and who in my life just care about themselves. It's unfortunate and disgusting. I don't know what to do about it. A part of me says I shouldn't go around them. Because I don't want to be where I'm an afterthought. But they'll tell me that I am taking it all wrong if I do that. It feels like going into my parents' house and I am coming to hate it.

Brain still out of order.

 I'm still mixed. I'm still super anxious. And I am now really irritable, like even more so than I usually am with these. I talk to my doctor Monday. I'm kinda hoping that there's some kind of silver bullet because this game sucks and I don't like it. I am dreading a number of things that rationally I shouldn't be. It's bullshit. I keep having emotional flashbacks. I am sleeping horribly. And it's really hard to be a rational person right now. Also, fuck this weather. It is stupidly cold out but sunny. The kids are having a ball, but I NOPED out of going out there when I checked on them a minute ago. I don't feel like freezing my tits off for a few minutes of sunshine. I want this weather to settle down and be warm.