It's Been A Long Time

Yawn in the beginning. Music actually starts at 2:27. Put on your seat belt and prepare for some corny old times. Yawn some more.

Yes, it's been what seems forever since I've bothered to sit down and write. I've been more depressed and anxious, which is my excuse for not writing. I've been numbing my brain with TV online - entire series of shows on Xfinity online. Numbing it with that and a higher dose of generic Seroquel. 

I'm still one miserable ol' fuck. 

I'm up to 600mgs of Seroquel a day/night, and still taking 4mgs of clonazepam per day with that to try and deal with my horrific anxiety. It seemed to get better, then back to the old shit. I'm still taking wellbutrin, prozac in the morning, (sort of) spreading 4mgs of clonazepam throughout the day, and still cutting myself 100mgs of Seroquel at about midday, when my crazy really creeps up on me and bitch slaps me like a motherfucker. My face burns up, I sweat, shake, feel panic, feel like I'm going to lose it and do something crazy, cry and explode. That's when I get the Seroquel chunk with part of its time-release coating cut off, and a clonazepam under the tongue, in hopes of quick relief of at least some of the symptoms. 

It's so exhausting being so fucked up as you/we all know. It's a shame that normal, functioning people can't seem to understand it. That you're physically and emotionally exhausted from just FEELING anything, from surviving the day, even if you never set foot outside or peep out a window. It's also a shame that you can't really continue to dump your Debbie Downer shit on anyone anymore either. I'm starting to feel like there's not even a point in doing it with the psychologist. That makes me want to punch him instead of paying his bills, which I am behind in. 

I feel lucky to have saved a strange little black cat from the city shelter (a few years ago) that is disturbed in her own ways, and am lucky to have her company. She doesn't act "normal" and "friendly" in the same ways that most cats do, but does show her affection, and has been learning to communicate in other funny ways. I'm learning from her, learning to accept her kooky ways, and getting my hair full of cat spit. 

Well, it's certainly been a long time since I've been on the treadmill in any regular way, and I'm going to try and try again this morning. It will help push me into the shower that I definitely need after sweating like a pig off and on all night long last night. Must get back into my old routine. 

Anybody heard of SuperBetter or playing SuperBetter out there?

PS Dear Pope Frankie, since you named yourself after St Francis of Assisi, patron saint of animals, please exorcise my demons and tell them to get the fuck out of my head and body.

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.