The "Wonders" of Meds and Alcohol

Holy shit! I don't remember writing one single word of the last post. I guess I don't need much alcohol and meds to put myself on auto-freak. Amazing. Shameful! Stupid. It was like drunk dialing/texting/messaging only worse - totally out there in public. Well, that was one evening of my mixing meds and alcohol, which I don't really do that often because my spouse looks down upon me drinking. It's something I do rarely.  He told me I was a "mean drunk" when I got drunk. I don't remember being mean at all. I don't remember much of anything about that evening.

I have looked at as many blogs that I could find dealing with mental health in one form or another, and I could hardly find any. The few I found had thousands of readers or at least "followers", so it made me feel like "what's the point of me writing if no one's going to read it and maybe leave a comment". I'm "following" a few blogs that I came across and left comments if I felt like it. That would seem to be the point of reading a blog in the first place. I have to have some kind of outlet for my insanity without dumping on the last few friends I have left. Blogging seemed to be the way to do it. I guess I'm just writing and sending my crap out there into the internet universe. Just another drop in a bucket, just another nobody.

Well, I guess some crap came out in my last blog about how miserable I am, and have been for such a long time. It's not easy when you're not getting support (asking or not) and trying to survive my current mess, and today is no exception. My spouse called in sick just because he felt like it. Again. So that throws my daily routine that I MUST have right out the window. Unfortunately, my spouse seems to think I just don't want him around. Not true at all. I just don't look forward to the effects that trashing my routine will have.

Since he was home yesterday too, I had to suffer the effects of my routine being "ruined". It was the worst anxiety/near psychotic episode I've had in years. I took some extra seroquel  and clonazepam for it, and tried to remember some bad old disco song to sing to myself in my head over and over to make it all stop. Tv and messing around on the computer didn't work either. So I tried going to sleep. I curled up in a ball on the bed and was seeing and hearing things, even when my eyes were squeezed shut as tightly as I possible.
Eventually, I went into a half sleep sort of state for a few hours. Then I slept a bit.

I have a shrink that does therapy and one that does the meds, and at this point, neither seem to be working like they used to. I'm taking the cocktail, going to the shrink, but it seems my anxiety is either the same or worse. I don't know what to do. There's nothing I can do.

Fuck Knows What

Yep, I'm drunk on cheap vodka and diet Dr Pepper as well being high in some sort of way from my meds that have been mixed with the booze. I'm beginning to have a headache from thinking. Thinking about my stupid pitiful day to day life, thinking what's the point in blogging about it, recording it, all that shit. I took my seroquel early for the evening just to see how fucked up I'd get and what it would be like.

I just went outside downstairs to the proper place to smoke after my spouse declined my offer to come  with. I thought 'what an asshole'. Too lazy to walk down the stairs and come back up. Instead, he waiting for a while, had a smoke out on the deck, then went and put on the stupid movie "Ted". I might as well stick my fucking head in the toilet and try to flush it down over and over again. So now, I'm being forced to watch the Ted movie because my spouse put it in the DVD player. I won't be watching it of course, just forced to listen to it in the background.

It was no big deal going outside and down the back stairs as there were only a few people passing by that were probably half  my age and half dressed as well. I enjoyed my smoke alone and was glad that my spouse wasn't standing there smoking, with his goddamned iphone in his free hand. That is so cuntish and rude, to me, but there's nothing I can say or do to get him to understand that fact. It fucking sucks, so I'm kind of glad that he said he wouldn'tust join me for a smoke.

My heart is broken and can't wait to go to bed in my nightie, and read a  bit on my Kindle. That usually puts me to sleep pretty quickly. I'll have to add clonopin to that mess to make reality go away more quickly.  My heart is certainly broken, and has been for a long time. My spouse seems to be more into watching mind-numbing tv rather than coming to bed for getting it on or even just talking about it. I almost wish I had a male friend that knew my circumstances, and that I could at least try and fuck. All I heard about from the spouse today was comments about going to England for a visit and moving into a bigger place. That's all fine and dandy if you have the money, don't have a cat, and don't have a lot of extra money coming in. Maybe he thinks I'm going to get a job along the way somewhere?

Fuck. I don't like this reality anymore. It's all gone to hell. I just want to sleep it off and wake up to see he's not here, however terrible that sounds.

I honestly do not know how much more of this I can stand, plus his damn birthday is coming up in the middle of August. I wanna buy him a Louisville Slugger and take a good, hard swing to his head. He just doesn't seem to care or get it. He just doesn't seem to want to care anymore.

Fuck everything. FTW. I just want water, my pills, and to sleep this all away, like it never happened.