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!
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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.

Post Treadmill Cool Down

I read my last post the other day and decided, its title was perfect. It was trash. It made absolutely no sense at all. The rantings of a crazy broad running in circles in a round padded room. What a pile of shit! I laughed at it yesterday and today. At least I had something to laugh about, even if I was the butt of the joke. The song was great, though.

Update on "SuperBetter" game (SuperBetter.com):

It's helped me out most days, guilt-tripping me into doing things that I want to do but need that extra massive, in-your-face-in-writing "Quests" to complete. You don't want to fail. You don't want to record that you fought various "Bad Guys" and lost. It shows up on your activity feed, I guess you'd call it? You want to do things to see yourself progress in gaining strength in various categories, including emotional and physical.

You can be creative and make your own "Quests", "Bad Guys", and "Power Ups" that help you along in your success. There are also links to information on the science of parts of the game that are interesting.

I've gone from just curling up in a ball again, in a safe, possibly overmedicated state, freaking out with anxiety nonetheless, to taking a brisk walk to nowhere while watching "Supernatural" or On Demand tv. I'm up to 2mi now, and am working my way back to 3-5, 6 days a week. Ugh, meaning 6 fucking showers a week! Two miles may sound like nothing, but it's a hell of a lot more than staring at the huge machine in your living room, and watching the gigantic fucker collect dust. I even allow myself to wear and dirty more shirts, pants, socks, which I felt too guilty about doing before. Feeling like I didn't deserve to wear clean clothes.

I still haven't managed to get outside like I'd like to, but I believe it has decreased my daily anxiety levels. I also don't freak out if I get separated from someone if I'm in the store with them, as long as we have phones. It's taking time, but shit, man, it sounds like things are progressing, slow, but better than before SuperBetter.

Now if I could just beat the shit out of that "Kitchen Monster" ("Bad Guy") I created... I should have called it Bessie the Kitchen Grazing Cow.

Final word at the moment is crippling anxiety levels lowered! Exercise increased! Feeling good about some little accomplishments I've made toward feeling better mentally, emotionally, and physically, etc.  

Ok, back to the rest of my stupid life. Yeah, my spouse was being a dick the other day. He doesn't know how to have a relationship with someone for more than a few months, let alone as long as we've been together. He's never lived with anyone other than me, he's a Brit, he's never lived with a crazy woman before. I'm not making excuses for him, in my eyes, ears, head, and heart, he's pretty ignorant, and the crazy hyper-emotional part of me says that I'm easily hurt by some shit, take some things to heart that shouldn't be, and blow some things out of proportion. He's a bit like me in some of those ways as well. Sensitive. Missing and/or abusive dad, not much else. Depression, taken care of by meds, he says.

So I'm in my cool down and relax period after my time on the treadmill. I'm supposed to be letting myself be OK with being stinky, sweaty, messy, nasty, runny old makeup, in my underwear, etc, It's hard for me, because I used to feel rushed to take a shower right afterward, as if I was going to die or something. No more pressure. It'll happen. No more potential anxiety-causing shit like that. Relax and be proud that I matched yesterday's record, and that in the very near future, I'm going to be breaking some more records and taking advantage of our DVD collection.

I don't feel so shitty today, but I am a little anxious about the possibility of having to go to the grocery store, even though I've made a list, know where everything is, will have my phone, and know that once I get in there that I won't feel too anxious at all. I'll be too distracted by all the movement and shit around me. I'll be OK. I'll keep telling myself that I'll be OK.. I'll be OK. I'll be OK. I'll be OK.

The Guilt Machine and the Emotionally Crippled

William Staub, Inventor of the Treadmill, Dead at 96

Well fuck me. The walking shoes under my table (where my computer is) and the fact that the evil treadmill is in the same room, got me up off my ass yesterday. I write in the same room of the behemoth creature. I felt like I was at a dangerous point of sliding downhill into thoughts of the "s" word. So I managed to put on some appropriate clothes and force myself to do a brisk 3mi walk while forcing myself to pay attention to the tv. It was also the only way I was going to get myself into the shower (afterward). That would be a much-needed shower. My hair must be filthy by now. Oh well. I used to be much much worse. I also managed to drag out the trash and recycling in one go yesterday. An amazing feat.

I was fucked last night, tossing and turning yet again, and again my spouse woke me up with noise at 6am today. I was cursed to get up out of guilt. Besides, I had my alarm set for 7am. What's one more hour lost. A lot, sometimes, I tell ya. According to my meds shrink, I should be sleeping better for taking more seroquel , but since he wrote my latest Rx wrong in a hurry, I stuck with the lower dose, and got a refill on that. Since I've been having the random anxiety/near psychotic attacks, I haven't been sleeping well.

The Rx from my meds shrink should have been for 500mg horse pills, but was for 400mg. Good enough for now, since I have a few leftovers that I hope will get me out of this anxiety/near psychotic funk. That's a serious fucking funk. I've been taking 300mg or 350mg near the middle of the afternoon, and only other half of the big tab, which is 200mg at night. I take 450mgs of wellbutrin, 40mg prozac, and 4mg of clonazepam spread out for the rest of the day. I'm supposed to take one at night, but it's needed much more during the afternoon when my anxiety is at it's worst.

I'm starting to really wonder - is anxiety an emotion or a horrible condition? I don't really count it as an emotion. Come to think of it, I don't consider a lot of the shit that goes through my head as emotions, except for crippling depression. Maybe I've been going through depression as well, but I can't really tell from the inside, due to the horrific anxiety. 

When I think about it, I almost feel like I have no emotions at all, just symptoms of illness. That there are no real emotions that I can honestly feel anymore, including a "mother's love" for my daughter, or the love I should feel for my spouse. I had no example as I was growing up as far as a mother goes, and in the father dept., he was either emotionally abusive, physically abusive, drunk, not around, or didn't seem to care much for me. 

There's a big fucking hole in my heart that I've tried to fill with all sorts of things and people, but no one and nothing has been able to fill it. It's so damaged and has been that way since I was a little kid, from what little I can remember. What am I supposed to do with it now? Try to feel the appropriate feelings when the situation calls for it? I don't think I know how to love. I don't think I ever knew.

And now for something completely stupid - here.

Jeebus, what a pile of depressing shit! I don't feel as bad or lost as yesterday. I feel like I'm up too early again, but I'm going to try to take things one half hour or hour at a time, like I have to do these days. I don't know if I can make today turn out as good as yesterday, but I will try to try. Yes, try to try is the perfect expression. Already my guts aren't liking me this morning, but that should pass if I force myself to eat something. 

I had a handful of vitamins for the hell of it, as well as my meds. It's hard enough to keep up with my daily meds, let alone some crazy cocktail of supposedly beneficial vitamins and fish oil. There's no reason that I took the vitamins. Just that I saw them and took some. Maybe something in the back of my mind hopes that taking vitamins will help me. Help me what? Push myself to walk and shower today? I don't know. I haven't been in my "right" mind since I was 3. I don't have the discipline it takes to do vitamins every day. It's a little difficult to swallow a handful of pills of any kind, because I am reminded physically and mentally of one of many times I OD'd or tried.

Yesterday, I think, I bitched about positive messages and all that. I'm old and have been ill a longass time, so those positive messages and messages of hope have actually become depressing in their own way. Depressing because someone out there is affected in a good way by them. I become irritated and depressed. WTF.

This shit IS a daily struggle. Not to mention blogger. For some reason, it's fucking up all my spacing. Apologies.

Which Way is Up?

 

Down. That's how I've been feeling. The kind of depression that 's more like anxiety and horror at the thought of dealing with anything. I'm afraid of having panic/psycho attacks more each day now. I survived yesterday, but I don't know how. I didn't get any exercise, or bother to take a shower. I did throw on some clothes before the spouse came back to make things look less pathetic. Things = me.

If I see one more positive fluff crap "posts", I'm going to be sick. I already feel sick from my meds. Again. I have the feeling that things are going to be pretty much like they were yesterday, only today my stomach is acting up, unfortunately, because I was going to try walking on the treadmill.

Walking for a few miles on the treadmill seems to be the only way to get me into the shower. I don't bother washing my hair more than once a week. I don't like shutting the door when I take a shower, because I guess I feel a little claustrophobic. I also don't like taking showers when I'm not alone at home.

My head is a mess and refuses to do its own thinking. I don't want to feel or think anything. I'm just going to listen to geeky audiobooks for the rest of the morning and afternoon. At least I can pretend that someone is reading to me. Pathetic, I know, but I can't be in the presence of a real person right now.

Guilt is the only thing that keeps me from just crawling back to bed and trying to sleep. Guilt that my spouse would think that all I did was watch tv, eat, and sleep today. I just don't have the energy to do anything but write a bit, listen to the audiobook, and curl up in a ball. Fuck it. Fuck guilt. I can't force myself to do anything today. It just scares me - the thought of stress and how it affects my moods so much. The thought of a shower is awful too, as well as washing my face and brushing my teeth. We're seriously down to the basics.

I don't know what I'll do. Tv can't seem  to hold my attention any longer. This is kind of scary, but I don't know exactly why. I'm a fucking zombie. At least I'm not crying. Crying scares the hell out of me.