WARNING AT BOTTOM OF PAGE

This is a mental health/mental illness blog dealing with daily life with words that are real and raw, video, pics, and music chosen by one fucked-up kitty. I am diagnosed Bipolar, with (crippling) Anxiety Disorder, and seriously horrific PTSD.
Sometimes it's a real treat of Freedom of Speech and Crazy to let it out, and scream something out in public when you just lose it, and let the stress out of your sails in one quick go, unlike the "unlucky" majority. Nope. Can't say everything is bad 100% of the time. Now take your meds and get ready...



This blog is permanently under construction/destruction.

Monday, February 17, 2014

Beating Anxiety, Losing at Life



Fuck, I knew this was going to be a weird/bad day. First, I had a dream that a "gang" of 4 other black cats and 1 ruffled young crow were trying to stare down Frankie (my black cat seen in my pic, not vid) and scare her away. She stood by my side, and met their stares, then they slowly turned around and walked away.

I noticed I was standing on the curb of a corner on the street, and a flood had started. By the time I noticed the water had reached my ankles, covering my dirty white tennies, Frankie was in her own little row boat, rowing away, disappearing from the scene. I tried to call her back, but she was gone. Then I woke up. That's when I went into the bathroom and got the Don't Fear The Reaper treatment from the radio. It was almost 4.30am.

I had only 2 cups of coffee while watching The Walking Dead, and messing around on the computer. Then I switched to green/jasmine. TWD was over, I was still on the computer, and jumping around from screen to screen, trying to hide my google stuff from my spouse, 

I started to get cold. Then I noticed I was freezing and sweating at the same time. Great. Next came the shaking and realization that fucking anxiety or an attack was coming on. FUCK! So fucking early?! I had already taken meds, too, but then I looked on the table and noticed I forgot my nighttime meds... 600mg of seroquel and 1mg of clonazepam.

Fuck. If I take it, it's goodbye for the rest of the day, or dizzy weirded out woman. Unpredictable. Hmm...Maybe 200mg? Let's see if that does the trick.

I don't wan't the start of my damn week ruined because of my meds (probably) fuck-up! I have a schedule! I have some exercising to do! I don't want to be a lazy lump on a log and sleep the day away. I can't. I had that beaten into me, and it stuck. I would feel so guilty if I fell asleep or took a nap. Stupid, I know.

Hmm.. I'm not shaking so much. My insides still feel like they are, and my hands feel weird, like I can't completely control them, as if they have something else they want to do or write?

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Continue...

I can force myself to relax my shoulders now, if I keep thinking about them, but it's getting hard, because I have to think of too many body parts and functions/control at once. Can't do it.

Breathing for a while...

Damn phone rings. I answer. Silence. Had enough silence and now irritated, "What the fuck do you want?" More silence then ""Blah blah blah" crash!

Down goes the phone. I hate a second of my time on the home phone wasted. Mean, aren't I? Some of it's part of me fighting the anxiety, the other part is just generally ugly hateful bitchiness toward telemarketers. Telemarketers = people that make me get off of the couch, move my computer, and have to deal with another person.

Ok...Try not to read too many sad things that some people have experienced and written about. It breaks my heart...

Reading email not good for anxiety..

Drinking water, the seroquel, and breathing is helping.

This is helping.

Or helped.

I watched HBO's GIRLS, then some other crap, and curled up on the couch with water and wheat chex. I didn't feel sleepy at all, and at some point, the anxiety decided to finally take a hike. Hopefully, it went and attacked someone truly evil, and took them down.