I Lost My Shoe - I'm Batman

Today is the first official day that I go back to the starring role in "The Crazy Stay-At-Home-Wife". I have already been up since the spouse, which was at 5, and made coffee just for him. He looked grouchy as ever, so I ignored him to dress for my trip to starfucks.

The spouse wasn't around long, and I guess he didn't want all the coffee I made him, so I drank the leftover teeny cup with the last bit of half-n-half in the house. That worried me. He said "Well, I'm off," sounding exhausted as I was feeling and looking, and hugged me goodbye. He left the door unlocked. Rolling my eyes here.

Just like Prince wrote, I was thinking it was going to start off a manic monday. I guzzled the last bit of coffee here, then went to starfucks and got busted for using a 2013 coffee bag. They said they'd give me a free cup this time. I didn't stay long - didn't have the patience or sunglasses. It was getting too light outside, and after digging around in my pockets, I learned that my damn lighter was missing! FUCK.

I got home fast, and had a smoke on the balcony/lanai/deck/whatever, which is a no no to calm me, even though I'd had my meds before leaving for coffee. Damn, I forgot to steal some more sweetener. All the lights were on, and the shades were open, so I could see all these ugly spots on the carpet. It's just filthy. Some looked like old cat puke, so I went around squirting and scrubbing all over. Then I started dusting the living room, which I hate. I don't know what made me do that. After all that, I cleaned out the dirty laundry from my closet, and did a load. I put the dry stuff away already, and hung the delicates to dry on a clotheshorse. I made scrambled eggs fried in bacon fat, green tea, and here I am. Feeling kind of guilty for sitting down. I was thinking I could have washed the blanket that I'm sitting on now, or go for some more carpet scrubbing like a nut case, but I remembered that I'll be on the treadmill in about an hour.

SO WHY IS THE FUCKING ANXIETY CREEPING UP ON ME THIS FUCKING EARLY?!

Breathe in and out slowly... after having taken a bit of seroquel, of course. Have a little tea. I'm talking to myself. I'm writing to myself. I'm crazy. I'm a crazy person, but that's ok, Supernatural is on, and this is the one where Dean says he's Batman. hahaha And Sam loses his fucking shoe! hahahaha Cuppa Crazy, anyone?

EDIT:  Ok, Ok... I think I figured out why I was supposed to feel anxious today. I was supposed to call my current therapist and fire him. Then I was supposed to call 3 or 4 female psychologists that are in the same building that he is in, according to the insanely fucking unreliable Medicare website. They could have a practice anywhere, and they may or may not take Medicare. I may or may not be fucked.  I HATE talking on the phone to people that I don't know, and having to leave messages for people that I don't know. THAT is something that makes me anxious, even if I am alone and there's no one around to hear me talk.

So, I called my therapist and had to leave a message. I said that I had to cancel this week's appointment because I couldn't afford to go every week, which is true now. I will be firing him when I find a new therapist to replace him. Anyway, then I called all 4 female psychologists that were listed on the Medicare site that are supposedly in the same building as the current. I had to leave messages for all of them and felt stupid as all fucking hell. I was up front about the Medicare because I didn't want to waste my time, energy, or mood(s).

FUCK. Not ONE live person on the phone... Well there was one more...Called and left ANOTHER message, but that's Ok, this office is within walking distance... if I can get out. I think I might to see someone new. Fuck, I'd force myself even if I bawled all the way. I think there's another I can call that's only a short ride away (by bus)... and left another message.

Let the incoming calls and freakouts begin...

Walk If You Can't Run Like Hell

I'm irritated as all fuck. OK, I'm fucking pissed off and disgusted with some of the male presence on G+. This morning, they have been posting racist shit, and stupid shit regarding the missing Malaysian plane, a rich white male creature that raped his own children, and some other stuff. I rarely see any women or girls making their opinions known, or responding to what anyone posts regarding news stories, and political news. Why is that, I wonder? Especially on a particular news item that reported on a terrible women's issue. No women but me. What the hell?

I guess you call these kind of shitheads "trolls", but I have never used that term before, as I haven't been doing this social thing for very long. I still don't know all the acronyms people use either. D'oh! So let the dicks be dicks. It's hard to just "walk away" without saying something like "you're a fucking racist cunt.", etc.

Anyway, this irritation morphed into anger, and now fucking anxiety that is at least an hour too soon to have to deal with. I took meds and hope that I can be OK to get my exercise in. It can be a crap shoot with seroquel as far as it making you tired. I think I'm too angry/hyped up for it to make me tired though.

I should be concentrating more on "Supernatural", that's been on since 9am. Speaking of, I just saw the Blue Oyster Cult symbol, and Dean mentioned he'd seen that somewhere before, and it's driving him nuts. Funny.

Usually, I do my walk on the treadmill while watching "Supernatural". It is a great escape for me, no matter how many times I have already seen the episodes, and have the DVDs, in case of  TNT doing something stupid like putting on another show, or sports. Problem is that getting motivated to get my ass up and actually moving, feeling that weird feeling of walking and getting nowhere, seems to be coming later and later. I shouldn't be putting so much pressure on myself to make it by the end of "Supernatural", but it just makes it easier to do the walk and be distracted. Lazy with the DVDs, yep. Pressure creates more anxiety, and anxiety creates more bad, and bad creates guilt, and guilt creates self-hatred, and you know what comes after that. Let's not go there today, for once.

My spouse was not in a shitty mood this morning and actually gave me a hug and told me that he would drive me to my Dr appointment tomorrow, as well as pick up my meds from the drugstore. That was good. He is hooked on the "Game of Thrones" books, so he's been up reading in bed every night, making it a bit harder for me to go to sleep. Just knowing someone is awake that's near me does that, but the seroquel kicked my ass sooner or later. He was gone for a few hours yesterday to meet up with an ex workmate, so I had some time alone!

Well, try try trying to get up on the treadmill...

Interesting how my mood has changed so much, no? Chillin' on seroquel and clonopin. I recommend it.

From Darkness To Light

Music: Supernatural Radio (online)
Drink:  Water

Yesterday morning in the darkness, just before the rain came down hard, I managed to get out to the starbucks by the light of the moon. I passed a homeless neighbor that was just waking up, and I was too shy to ask her what her name was, but I told her mine. I asked if she would accept a handful of the starbucks "free coffee" coffee bags, and she did. She smiled from under her ton of blankets and sleeping bag, thanked me, and I told her to have a good morning.

I only got a bit wet in my hoodie on my way to starbucks, but didn't mind. I'd normally freak over it had I been out in the daylight. Very irritating for me. VERY. I only had a coffee and sat in a corner next to a window. Water was leaking in from the ceiling nearby. The reflection of light off the billion litle raindrops set against the dark skies on the glass looked like billions of stars in the partial clearing. I realized then that I forgot my phone, and that the alarm was going to go off at home, and wake up my spouse, so I got out of there pretty quickly. I think my walking song was:

Stuck in the Middle - Stealer's Wheel

Later on, after my therapist appointment, I felt pretty damn proud for not crying again. Just big welled-up tears in my eyes as I looked toward the ceiling while there. Somehow, when I do that, my eyes seem to suck them back in. Another runny nose, and that was it. I tried with all my might and willpower not to cry that whole session, and I didn't crack. Afterward, I was swept away to the drugstore and to grocery store. I needed an Rx, and my husband was crazy/angry hungry. You know how some people get that way? All pissed off if they don't eat? And they take their angry shit out on you. Does not compute with me. I'd rather have hunger pains any day, all day.

We ran into the drugstore, where somebody spray painted "Stick it to the man!" on the sidewalk nearby in huge blue letters. It's kind of comforting to know that it's been there for at least a couple of years. After dropping off my Rx, I was whisked away into the grocery store, the back out across the street to the drugstore. Perfect timing. My full month of clonazepam was waiting for me. Fucking finally!

When we left, I had my purse sitting on my lap as well as a bag of groceries for extra added feeling of "safety" sitting in the front seat on the way home. My spouse drives like a maniac, just like everybody else does, and complains about everybody else, just like the rest of the world does. I can't fucking stand to hear about it.

We got a few blocks down to a semi-major intersection where people were waiting for the "walk" light on both sides of the street, and he tried to whip around and make a right turn before they crossed, just after the "walk" light turned. I screamed and put my left arm out to try to stop him, which I managed to do. I said "You CAN'T FUCKING DO THAT! PEOPLE HAVE THE RIGHT OF WAY! YOU COULD HAVE KILLED SOMEONE!" I was wearing my sunglasses, and tears began streaming down behind them. WHAT. THE. FUCK.... So my list of shit that caused me PTSD isn't gone or going to go away, I realized. I wept silently behind my sunglasses the rest of the way home, and into the homestead. I remembered that my voice and breathing had changed during that whole thing. I got no reaction from the spouse but "There wasn't anyone crossing yet". 

Does he remember, know or care about my PTSD? Is he just oblivious to this shit or does he purposefully ignore it? I tend to think he's oblivious, that he put his own blinders on many years ago as a kind of coping mechanism for his own shit. Sez Dr Idunno. 

I just didn't want to deal with it anymore.Just wipe the tears and be done with it. Forget it fast, before you start wanting a fucking drink or something (seven). 

From Darkness
 To Light

The light, the light, where is the light in all of this? Oh yes, I woke up in a lighter mood than yesterday, but decided it was too rainy and windy to go out. Later I remembered the good coffee deed that I did. That made me smile. 

I failed at exercise today, but there's always tomorrow, and always tomorrow morning to sneak out around 5.30ish to get outside for coffee and a smoke. I do like being out in the dark by my
self like that.

I received an unsolicited hug from the spouse. There is my daughter. I have a roof over my head, plenty of food and clothing, a computer, a bed, electricity, and money coming in that I can share with my daughter (in college). The spouse gave me a $100 to send to her today. My crazy cat. I got to wear comfy, stretchy workout pants/clothes all day. I've got plenty of saltines for my nausea. I have lots to be thankful for, in fact, too much.

I need to go through my clothes and shoes, and see what I can donate to the charity shop down the street. I'm going to need some huge bags. I became quite the little hoarder when I was living alone in my studio of crazy with the insane online shoe/boot buying problem.

The Power Of "Swearing Like a Sailor"

Ok... I am really fucking fighting the goddamn nausea now to get back into the swing of things this morning. I got up at 6, dressed for workout, did a load of laundry, read blogs/g+ stuff, made and drank coffee and tea, and am now sipping some more tea (jasmine), hoping the fucking nausea will pass.

I really need to wash my hair, and the only way I'm going to get to do it is to get in the shower. And the only way to force myself into the shower is to get on the treadmill. My goal is only 2mi as I'm just starting again to make it a habit again. My alarm will go off at 10.30am, the time that's supposed to be the latest that I should allow myself to start exercising. The end of the lazy little shit period. I don't think I'm going to make it, but I'm going for 11 or 11.30 at the latest.

Fuck it. I should feel better soon. I had a piece of a baguette from yesterday's trip in the snow to the store. Saltines and more water will be my next move. Yuck.

Mmmm... now. Fuck. Fuck Fuck!!!

I don't want to start a week failing at anything that I need/want to do. I'm afraid that everything will go downhill from there. I've got a shrink appointment on Wednesday to get anxious over! I can't let shit just go from fucking bad to worse. The snowball of shit effect! Damn. Just writing that turned my stomach.

Yes, so it's saltines and water. Fuck! Motherfucking FUCK!
.
No! Fuck! I won't let it get to me!

Edit:

I swore like a sailor, got disgusted and angry with my meds side effects and said FUCK YOU, I'm gonna do it! Fuck you! So I made it to the treadmill with enough time to watch "Supernatural", lose track of time by concentrating on the show as much as I could, and reached my goal. Fuck Yeah!

Oh, and I do plan on eating some spinach later.

The Devil Within

                                                            "Supernatural" soundtrack*

Well, I guess I can call myself lucky that my spouse is still laid off from work, and could take me to the (meds) shrink on top of ghetto hill. That awful ride would have taken me about 1.5hrs and 2 buses, starting at  about 7am, plus I would have frozen, even in my lovely cashmere sweater and scarf. I'd say I'm not so lucky because my shrink started asking me all kinds of questions about upsetting things that I should be talking about in therapy. I think he wants to say, "You're seeing an idiot." Anyway, he dug up some horrific guilt, failure, and shitty issues that I've tried to bury. Made me fucking cry. And I was hell bent on not crying a drop when I was there. Shit. He even distracted me enough to make me forget about asking about a new pill on tv that I was going to ask about.

I really shouldn't complain at all, because like a dahling, he upped my dose of topiramate (Topomax) which is supposed to be yet another anti-convulsant, BP, etc, but one of the side effects is supposed to be weight loss. And I'm taking generic seroquel, so this will hopefully help motivate me more to get rid of those extra 10ish lbs that mysteriously appeared on my body at some point. This is the reason he's giving it to me anyway, plus its lamictal-type properties. I looked up topomax and had to laugh out loud that it's given out for migraine pain! Who the fuck is selling that big fat juicy lie? I've had dozens of migraines, and it's been no good at all. I'd rather have terrible migraines and be losing weight than no migraines and my weight being steady and stuck as it is.

The weight gain thing has added to my dread of going outside alone, of course, but I don't know how much since it's winter and you can really pile on the layers of clothes..All I know is that I felt more confident, now and then, when I was at a weight that wasn't so bad, but still overweight to me. Yeah, I got that "I'm fat and ugly" demon riding on my shoulder since I stopped being a size 0, then 1, then 2, which is not unreasonable for my height. I just want to look good to me, because it would feel good to me, and it would certainly add to my self-confidence. Man, I sure miss that self-confidence you float down the street with when you're in a good manic phase.No matter how much I weigh, I will always find some spot to call fat and be disgusted and depressed about it. Yeah, I have weight/body issues too to pile on that big pile of miserable shit I fight every day

Somehow, I managed to force myself to walk on the treadmill about 1.5hrs after I came home from the Dr and Rx store. It was so hard because I felt kicked around emotionally, and I was still hurtin' from my appointment earlier. I'm slowly making it back to my old daily goal of 3-5mi a day. I crank up "Supernatural" on TNT, the fan, and try to walk without thinking about my body. I try not to notice how much whiskey they're drinking on the show. I try not to notice all the beer either. Sometimes, to push myself to keep going, I think about the death of a person that I hate, and that deserves a horrific, painful, messy death, like watching him get set on fire after a good beating with a baseball bat. By me. Sometimes I think about the sound of bones breaking and skull being crushed, as well as all the different shades of red, black, and blue he'd be. And the blood. I like to think about the flames lapping at him, and making him scream and cry like a little girl. I wonder if he'd smell like BBQ'd chicken, or just burning shit, like the steaming heap that he is.

I tried to fight off the evil kitchen monster (aka the devil) that keeps dragging me in there to nibble on something, but I lost. At least it wasn't in a really bad way. I stuffed myself with canned green beans and frozen brussels sprouts. Who the hell does that? A fucking nut like me.


*song added to "Suicidal Soundtrack"

Early to Bed, Early to Rise Makes a Crazy Woman Just Plain Crazy

                                                                         Quetzal

 
No video today. Sore throat, sore back, and lukewarm tea is all I have going on here.

I don't really have much to say apart from the fact that it saddens me when I am reminded how other people are suffering too, from depression, crippling anxiety, suicidal ideation...

I spent most of the afternoon sleeping, as I was knocked out by some Seroquel.

I think what's kept me alive for the past week or so is a "game" called SuperBetter. Here is a bit more about it. It was created by a woman that was suicidal, to save her own life. It got me back on the treadmill, feeling better about little things that are a big job to me like getting dressed, exercising, taking a shower, etc, though I'm still a shut-in. I recommend it, to at least try it. I was suicidal when I started, and now I'm not. I'm not thrilled about life, but I feel like I have accomplished some little things towards my goal of "not wanting to shoot myself in the head and live and be happy".

Tomorrow I have to go to the psychologist, which I'm not looking forward to, but I'm almost looking forward to leaving his office and going home alone on the bus with my ipod and sunglasses, my  head empty of  the emotional dump I will have taken on the guy. Emotional dump and run, and the green tea is free. Well, included in the price that Medicare Part B doesn't pay. I will feel alone, but alone and free. My husband will be sitting around at home. He's been laid off from work.

I already miss being alone during the day, no matter how isolated I feel sometimes, at least I can do it privately. That means, of course, that I feel alone when my husband is around. Yeah, shitty marriage. Don't want to go there now. "Supenatural" is on.

My sleep sucks ass, but at least for the first few hours, I'm good. I spray perfume in my hair before I go to bed for my own kind of "aromatherapy". I get to sleep even faster with that, though I do take 600mgs of Seroquel. Whatever works, right?