My mental state: a confessional?

I had deja vu today. I thought to myself “I really hate it when I am this anxious, I wish I could just go back to being depressed, at least then I could get some sleep.” and then I realized that a mere few weeks ago when I was feeling particularly depressed I thought “I wish I could just go back to being anxious, at least with anxiety I don’t feel dead inside.”

I can’t go through another 5 year bout of this. I don’t have the energy.

With that said, I don’t want to post this shit on a Facebook status update because honestly, there is less of a chance that anyone is gonna click the link to come here versus seeing it in a status update. I know it isn’t anonymous and that someone will see this, but I can’t afford a doctor and I need to get this shit out of me. It is poison. The problem is, people ask me to talk to them about it and I clam up. I can’t verbalize it right now because it is raw. Maybe when it is over and I’ve begun to heal a little, I can go back and reminisce about this awful feeling, but now, I can’t.

A few family members might come around the blog to see what’s going on. A couple friends might. If anyone does, though, they chose to read it, it isn’t like I made them listen to the incoherent ramblings of an over (or under, for that matter) stimulated brain, just spewing out emotion vomit. I know I am a burden when I am like this, but at least here, the people reading it chose to read it. At least here I can “say” what I need to say and cry about it without feeling like I am wasting anyone’s time, without feeling weak. I know I am weak. I dont think I can handle starting this conversation and watching the other person’s eyes glaze over, or the person listening perhaps checking their phone while I fall apart in front of them. Here I can get this rot out of me uninterrupted.

I don’t know why I am still justifying to myself why I am writing this. Oh well, fuck it.

So, here I am.

Anxiety makes me shake. I have nightmares. My guts are upset, I jump out of my skin at the slightest sound. My heart rate is irregular. My mouth is dry. My skin feels like I have bugs crawling all over me. I cant make a decision. I am confused by regular every day things. I have no desire to be out of my house, yet I feel guilty if I don’t participate in life. I am easily enraged by simple things. My feelings get hurt easily. I overreact to the slightest things. My senses are heightened to the point where a running fan is deafening and the sun is blinding. I can “feel” germs on me when I touch anything in public. I can almost “see” them. I feel nauseated. My breathing is strained, my chest hurts, my muscles are tense. My mind is throwing a million thoughts at me incoherently. I am remembering stupid things from ten years ago and feeling guilt, anger, and sadness that should have long since gone away. I am uncomfortable in my skin, I dread getting in my car tomorrow to drive to work. I am convinced I am losing my mind but at this point, it would be relief if it just shut itself the fuck off. I want to channel these feelings in to artwork but I am too raw emotionally to do so, and when I avoid getting this out of me I feel guilt that I am not creating. I know I am off of my “path” in life and that scares me like a horror movie scares a normal person. I am literally scared witless that I am not fulfilling some purpose that I am not even aware of. It is like failing a goal I was never told I had, just that I had to achieve it. I get the urge to pick at my skin, sometimes my brain tells me to cut myself, like a good bloodletting will release some of these demons. I am flailing my arms and legs on the inside while trying to maintain the appearance of steadiness on the outside, and, frankly, I am fucking exhausted. I wear my masks proudly, cracked, rotted, and decayed as they are, they still cover my rawness.

That’s where I am. Who knows how long I will be here, but that is where I am.

I had the urge to work on some photos today. I had the urge to make a painting. Neither of those things happened because the thought was overstimulating.

So, it’s out there, the darkness has lifted from my soul, only to be replaced with electricity. I go from nothingness to everything all at once. It is overwhelming.

To anyone who has read this far, I hope this helps to explain some of the things I may have said or did, or what something I might do or say in the future. In the meantime, I will continue to try to find this elusive path I’m supposed to be walking.

Peace and love, friends.

Every day is a learning experience

I am … ENTIRELY … too angry.

Today was supposed to be a day of study and learning.  Unfortunately, the fact that I spent the entire night in an uproarious panic sort of derailed the day of study, as I had to ingest three cups of coffee just to keep my eyes open, and coffee tweaks my panic nodes (?) and they are all out of whack right now, all because I didn’t want to waste my day off sleeping.  When am I going to learn that I don’t have to be awake at 6 am?  I mean, where did I get this idea that I have to wake up that early?  Sleep in, for Christ’s sake.

Anyway, the day of study got derailed because I am like a little kid with the attention span of a gnat today.  I blame that on the insomnia and the coffee.  Shiny things, things that light up, and things that make noise are all on the list of things that I would rather look at than my book.  Ironically enough, I am studying psychology. Ha.

So, I decided to play a video game.  Eff it, my day of study is already down the tubes (because it is after noon, so my whole day is wasted?  I think that is my logic right now), so video game.

Well.  That didn’t go too well.

My computer was built in 1879, so it likes to stall A LOT.  Plus, I was trying to play a game that required the use of an ACTUAL mouse, not the stupid touch pad that will forever take you to just short of where you need the mouse to take you if you can’t remove your finger from the pad.  Yes, I had to trace the length of the touch pad to play that portion of the game, and my dude kept falling off the rip cord because the touch pad is literally a millimeter too short to get the dude all the way across in one swipe.  REALLY?  So, yeah, after three tries, I got a little frustrated, so I decided to go downstairs and get a mouse.  I tried once more and I got the dude all the way across the rip cord and he landed safely on the other side.  SUCCESS!

Well, that brings me to what we will call “Google Chrome is a bitch”.

Google Chrome is a BITCH!  I had to uninstall it.  Every time I try to get on the Internet, Google Chrome tells me that there is some stupid web page that won’t open and it gives me the option to wait or kill it.  I tell it to kill it, and … it never does.  It gives the option of murderous tendencies, but it never follows through.  Lizzie Borden you are not, Google Chrome.  This leads me back to the “Video Game / Mouse Contingency”:

Then I had to shoot things.  All well and good for a computer that wasn’t built in 1879.  A bad guy pops up, computer stalls, I try to shoot, and nothing happens.  It probably wouldn’t have been so bad if the effing character would have kept his stupid “hurry up!” and “start shooting!” comments to himself.  Who the eff are you, computer character, to berate me?  Ha ha ha I am three dimensional and you aren’t so SUCK ON THAT.

Anyway, when my computer kept freezing, I chucked the mouse across the room.  Done with that.

So, I decided that a spot of tea might calm me nerves.  I broke the faucet in what we will call the “Faucet Predicament”.

R.E.A.L.L.Y???????  How the hell did I break the Gotdamn faucet?  Well, that flooded me with an exponential amount of rage, so I punched the refrigerator, then I fixed the faucet (don’t even ask me how, because I have no idea), and decided to go switch my load of laundry.  Well, I am washing sheets, blankets, and the like, and I have a strange fascination with germs, as I am sure regular readers have figured out by now, so I have a real love-hate thing going on with throw blankets.  Let me explain in what we will dub “The Blanket Debacle”:

Throw blanket, n. a blanket, shorter than that of regular bedding, meant for portability.

Okay great, since my house is usually colder than a witch’s tits, I need throw blankets!  However, and here is where shit gets weird; throw blankets touch your feet.  Your feet touch the floor.  Floors are dirty.  The next time you use said throw blanket, how do you know which end is the foot end and which end is the face end???  Herein lies my dilemma.

Well, it doesn’t really effing matter, because I dropped my fuzzy blue favorite on the floor as soon as I got it out of the dryer.  Blankie, ruined.  Can’t use it until the next washing.  This week, it will exist only as decoration.  This, along with the fact that I didn’t notice that I had dropped it until I stepped on it, caused the rage to grow once again.  This will take us to our next chapter, “The Phone Fiasco”:

So, I am sure anyone who mildly pays attention to my neurotic rants on here knows how much I hate my touch screen phone.  I have been in a conversation on Facebook with a fellow neurotic since last night while I was panicking.  He responded to my last message, so after the Study FAIL, Google Chrome’s bitchiness, the Video Game / Mouse Contingency, the Faucet Predicament, the Blanket Debacle, we have the Phone Fiasco in which I am trying to type out this message back to my friend and EVERY TIME I TOUCH AN “S”, I ACTUALLY TOUCH AN “A”.  I threw the phone.  At least this time I had the presence of mind to throw it at the couch, so I didn’t kill it like I did the last phone.  And, you would think that this would be the end, but you would be wrong, reader.  I am beyond PISSED at this point, so I figure that the way I have been expressing my rage, ie, throwing things, punching things, etc. was not exactly a healthy outlet for these overwhelming feelings.  I decide to get on WordPress and vent it all out of me on the screen.  Let other people read this and laugh their asses off because that is what this blog is intended for, others to laugh at my neurosis.  WELL.  That SEEMED like a good idea at the time, and I am GLAD that I did it, EXCEPT …

THE UNPLUGGED COMPUTER MELTDOWN

My computer’s battery died in approximately 1880, since it was made in 1879 and these batteries don’t last very long.  Anyway, my LAPTOP computer serves no portability purposes because I am forever tethered to the outlet.  There isn’t even a battery in this bitch.  The battery was so dead that the computer wouldn’t turn on when it was installed, that is how much of a ZOMBIE this battery was.  Anyway, I am still so so so so SO angry about all the SHIT that has happened for the sole purpose of annoying the crap out of me today, that I grab my computer about half way through typing this blog post and the power cord snags on the edge of the TV tray I was using and I inadvertently unplug the computer.  RAGE RAGE RAGE courses through my body because WHAT ARE THE FUCKING GOD DAMN ODDS OF THAT and I feel every muscle in my body tense.  I start to shake.  I am nowhere near anything to punch, so what is my first instinct?

I fucking bit my hand.

I bit my hand.

Why the fuck would I bite my hand???

So, let’s add senseless violence to the list of problems with my brain. 

Well, thankfully, WordPress saves drafts as you work, otherwise this important piece of writing would not exist right now.  I say important because I am sure that my therapist is going to want to know that I am now back on the subject of hurting myself in fits of rage. At least I didn’t take a knife to my skin.  That would have been strike 3.  I was told I am not allowed to do that anymore, and I haven’t.  Not since I was a teenager.  I don’t want to go back to all that.

All right, that is all.  I just thought it would be nice to get all this rage out of me in a more productive manner and it worked, aside from the fact that I have teeth marks on my hand.  I really hope those go away before I go in to work tomorrow.  These are very clearly human teeth marks.  Ha.  I can’t help but laugh at that.  I fucking bit myself.  What a psycho.  I mean, I guess it is a good thing that I do these things to myself and not to others.  I guess that keeps me just on this side of neurotic and not psychotic … I am comfortable here.  However, I think it might be an apporpriate time to start pushing my insurance company to let me go back to my shrink.  And, of course, discuss the medicine option.  I can’t go back to the pain thing.  Pain is not a good way to heal anger.