Tag Archives: anxiety

A Fresh Look on Things

As the semester comes to a close, there is a certain level of stress that comes with that.  Oh, but this is a special amount of super stress.

I just returned to my university to continue the program I stopped a few years ago, studying computer science. Boy are some of these classes making me take a beating. Sometimes it is nice to see that even years out of college, I am still occasionally having the highest scored test in the class.  I’m still getting mainly As and Bs, but there have been some Cs, Ds, and even Fs.

I have many classes that I don’t even stay awake in anymore. I had been trying to address my sleep issue before returning to school, but no such luck. And now I’m scraping and clawing to pass. I guess if I don’t I’ll handle that then.

But, behold a bright side! I had sleep study done a week ago.  My doctor indicated Friday that I have narcolepsy. I’m going in tomorrow to discuss option for treatment. It’s a bit late into the semester, but, hell I’m getting answers!

Oh and added to my stress, a week ago Thursday, I found a lump on one of my testicles. I rationally knew it was a cyst, but that fear crept in that it was cancer. I endured a week of being unable to focus on anything else. But I got my answer before the weekend confirmed it was a cyst.

I’m also trying to move into a new place with my fiance, there have been additional events precipitating the extra need to move in with her, not good things. But hell, again, some of this change is good, even if bad change walks along side it.

I have friends and family that won’t let me down and I will find my way, I’ve come out of far worse, and I’ve endured it all.

Here’s to the new things, the fresh perspective on which I will build my life.

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Every Day is Halloween

I have to wear a mask every day. Sometimes as an actor, sometimes as disguise. Sometimes I’m not wearing one, but playing a role that’s expected of me.  Sometimes it feels natural, who I am. Other times, I’m simply trick or treating.

Why am I here? I ask God and I never really get an answer. I get told I have purpose. I get told I will find my purpose. I get told when I’m on the right path, or on the wrong. But never why I’m here.

Another shitty day. I almost overslept. Rocket (my dog) was kind enough to be excited about the prospect of getting out of my room, that she jumped up on my bed, forcing me to wake up. Despite her excitement, I was running late and could not even let her out. I had to lead her to her crate and pretend not to be upset and ask her to be good and give her a toy that she won’t do anything with all day because she’s so upset. And I close it up telling myself I will find a way to let her still be a dog and not leave my life.  That seems more unlikely by the hour. It’s not right to keep her at this point.

I get to school, somehow safely despite my eyes going out of focus a handful of times and struggling to not drift off. I fall asleep in my car pretty much as soon as I put it in park. 20 minutes later, I’m running later than I’d like for class. I hop out of the car entirely too groggy, and lock my door and shut it to only realize I locked my keys inside. I was seized by an incredible amount of anxiety but couldn’t address it then, needed to get to class.

No idea why I bothered showing up for class though. I fell asleep through the entire thing. Even the quiz. I get a zero on a quiz I was present for. But somehow I can’t be treated for a sleeping disorder I’ve been trying to address for years, because specialists have to determine that I’m not lying I guess. Who wants the embarrassment of falling asleep in public places or falling out of your chair or getting to ride the bus for a full loop because you nodded off for more than a minute?

But I guess in theory I’m lying. Have been lying for 10+ years. I guess I like to keep lying to just get a chance at drugs or something? If I wanted drugs that bad, I would find a dealer. Hell, maybe I should. Doctors sure as Hell don’t seem to be doing much good. I’m getting failing grades because I fall asleep during quizzes, tests, and general lectures. What chance do I have if this is not addressed?

I first started trying to address my weird issues with insomnia in a serious fashion my first trip to the mental hospital. They doctors looked at me like I spit out a cockroach and eagerly dismissed my symptoms. But the symptoms haven’t gone away. Not even a bit. And everything feels like it’s conspiring to make me really fail out of college this time.

Then some good news, I get a voicemail that I was finally referred to a doc and an appointment set for March 6th. Thank God. Then, on top of that, I didn’t actually lock myself out of the car, because the passenger door was left unlocked (though it shouldn’t be). Then I fell asleep for a few in my car, relieved. Made it to my psychologist office and slept some more. This is around 3pm at this point. Then some more shitty stuff happens, delaying my return home and unburdening Rocket, while also costing some money.

Then I finally get home, getting ready to spend time with my fiance. And my roommate/landlord/cousin tells me we need to have chat. And it’s only a few things he says that make me realize how truly a shitty person I am. He tells me I’ve taken advantage of his family. I’ve allowed them to house me and pay for my insurance briefly without keeping my word to them. A brief flicker of anger reminded me how they treated my mom and me when she was still around. Like I was finally getting something from them. That died pretty quickly though, because that’s not who I am. I didn’t keep my word. And that’s shitty. And now I really need to get rid of my dog. Also very shitty.

For the first time in a while I was reminded of being in similar situations. When eyes would turn off me, I would hurt myself. I stabbed my hand. I intentionally fell down stairs. I overdosed on meds. I punched a wall. My cousin left for just a couple minutes and all I could do was suppress the urge to drive the nearby by screwdriver into my gut. Then I realized that was stupid, I wouldn’t get enough force, it should go for my leg instead. An odd immediate reaction. I would have hoped I saw how fruitless that was and wished it away instantly instead of that. I resisted. I didn’t dwell on that particular urge for more than a couple seconds. Punching the wall occurred to me, but no that wouldn’t do because it would cost my cousin money, instead I could just slam my head into my desk until I felt only a headache. Disappointed again my reflexes to my impulses, I suppressed this too.

Then I recalled when I overdosed. It didn’t seem that bad. It wasn’t a hard thing to do. If I did that then my family would have to lay off me. No. That’s not right. Then that made me feel more shitty for even jokingly considering suicide attempt and death risk as an effort to manipulate my family. What really is wrong with me? I don’t always know when I’m wearing the mask and when the mask is wearing me. Right now though, I don’t like me. I want out of this skin. It feels surreal, being this angry at yourself. Like your brain doesn’t even know how to process much else. There’s enough rationality to not do stupid things, but you suddenly feel like a passenger instead of the one in control. Maybe control will never be complete or real. Maybe it’s just a really bad day. Maybe I’m an awful person and I frequently will myself to forget that. Whatever the case, I’m exhausted, but now know I can’t sleep. I’m eager for today to end even though I will have the same problems tomorrow. Maybe I just want to turn everything off right now and reboot. I wish it were that easy.

From Lost to Less

I wrote not too long ago. I don’t know that it was very productive in all reality, but it was a grievance I could allow my mind to have without directing it at someone I care about. So I return to do much (or little) of the same.

I’m in a very anxious mindset. Have been since I woke up. Past week or so, I’ve been down, but even so, in a relative manic state. I think it just bottomed out and now I get to reap the seeds that the manic state has sown.

I spent more money than I should have. Indeed, truth be told with not all of my transactions posting right now, I truly don’t know how much I spent and how much is left in my bank account. By my estimate, it’s around $50. I’ve been in worse states to be sure, but I also added on to credit card things so that they wouldn’t be on my debit card. I don’t know. In the moment I rationalized it and I shouldn’t have. Thanks manic state!

I haven’t spent much time with my fiance (though I haven’t done a formal proposal, girlfriend doesn’t do her justice). I miss her. But I can’t be around her right now either. I don’t want to upset her or both of us. I spoke to her some this evening and saw it was only going South. So I turned to here after telling her I loved her and didn’t want to make things worse.

It’s both relieving and frustrating that she understands. In my mind I insist that she save me, but I give her no tools with which to do so. No knowledge, no ability, indeed I don’t even tell her that I need her, because I also know that I would put her through Hell for no reason and I wouldn’t feel better by the end of it either.

In short I’m having a rough depressive episode. I don’t want to get into the details, but there’s a family health situation, and I’ve already lost too many people this year alone. I am in a place where I cannot afford to miss even a single step with school and I just landed a new job that’s killing me already with the theoretical schedule. I want to back out. I want to say so badly how much I fucked up. I can’t. Because those seeds of the past week or so? They’ve begun to germinate, and I now have to pay money back into places even though I had sworn off the credit cards, even though I had a decent financial situation.

It only takes one episode to ruin months of progress. I’ve dropped out of school 3 times and flunked out a fourth. Only took one bad week, or day, or event that triggered something greater. For me, being bipolar is navigating an amusement park built on a former minefield you’re assured is safe. It’s fun at times, scary at others, and every now and then, you’re certain catastrophe is about to happen when you where that metallic click.

I used to be like this a lot more. This particular state. The one where I’m freaking out, screaming, angry, and hurt on the inside.  I guess I can take some solace in that these are not as often as they were once. A small concession, for whatever that brings. It used be that I would have a tantrum with my mom. As an adult. I would freak out about one thing or another and sooner or later we would both be screaming until I had either left to somewhere else, even to just in my car, or when I was so defeated that I curled up and my mom would be bringing me tea.

I can’t do that now. I can’t smash my phone, I can’t stab my hand, I can’t punch walls, I can’t find something to break, someone to scream at. Indeed today I have had to fight the impulse to pound my head. This is not okay. This is not normal, but neither is bipolar. I keep praying. And I am certain God is out there. I will never understand Him, but I know He’s here for me. But it’s right now when my obstacles seem far greater than they actually may be and I have to constantly tell myself He’ll take care of me.

And it’s moments like this that I find it easy to destroy things. I destroy relationships. I destroy perceptions. I destroy opportunities. I destroy objects, possessions. I destroy ideas, and aspirations. I destroy myself. I will beat my head into submission and to what end?

But I can’t. Because I live somewhere where those around don’t understand me. So I say I’m tired. I’m not feeling well. I overslept. So that my lack of eating isn’t questioned, my longing to not get out of bed or move isn’t brought up. I don’t cry because if I do, it won’t stop. I won’t stop. It’ll go further and get out of hand. I have to shut every single impulse down so I don’t do something I can’t take back or recover from.

I’d rather be lost again than this.

A few scattered things

I’ve stopped trying to write recently. Lately, it’s been more or less a thought of something I should do. A thing I should return to. And, I started and scrapped posts a lot in the month following my mom’s death. I haven’t even pulled up this once in the past month. 3 months since her death. Not sure how far I will get to in writing this, my meds should have put me under a while ago, maybe writing will fix that. I’ll post whatever I have if I start to go under, but it’s probably all scattered anyway.

I’ve been crying half an hour tonight. These come and go and the reality of who I am and the fact that I’m less and less normal occurs more and more. I have vivid dreams, I guess that’s uncommon, I frequently recall mine. I always have. I still remember nightmares I have had when I was young, non recurring, just one time things, some very docile. I also remember good dreams from when I was young, as well as weird dreams. From before I started elementary and throughout. I have memories from then too. Some I know I was under the age of 3 simply because I know when my parents moved us to that duplex in San Antonio. All these things are highly unusual. Maybe they all were indicators that my brain was a bit off. Instead it was seen as me being gifted. I never felt especially gifted. I felt like I was told I was gifted and thrown in with the kids who actually were.

Ever since I was 10 and my dad’s accident happened, I have tried to prepare myself for his death. Sometimes I thought I might have some sociopathic tendencies because at moments I welcomed the thought of his death, and didn’t grieve things other did. But, I was young, that stuff is traumatizing. I don’t have anyone to talk to tonight and I can’t really stay focused. My point is. I have dreams, vivid ones.

The night before my mom’s heart attack, I had this dream. Post-apocalyptic in nature. I was seeking shelter after a few people in my group got sick and died. I found this big church that was expanded out for some ways, a real survival colony thing. They offered food for work. I settled in, there was a bartering system, you got a meal a day, plus a certain amount of vouchers based on how much work you did a given day and the nature of it. There was something of an exchange for these vouchers as well, so that if you had scavenged something useful, it could be bartered for in a sense. The exchange was in a former grocery store. The area where they have meats and things that are refrigerated. The open former refrigerators laid out the contents of would you could spend vouchers on, you could also get an extra meal or a better meal if you would rather. But I was interested in all the board games that had been accrued.

Anyway, during the course of my stay with this group, I learn they are recruiting people for defense because they are actually at war with another group. They stop recruiting, stop asking and start forcing us to learn to fight other people. It’s during one of these assemblies that the doors bust open and the group that they are at war with barges in and starts shooting first, no intent on taking names. I’m able to dive out a side door, a few others following me in the chaos. I sprint, not looking behind me and I’m caught, snapped back into a small alcove of this hall, I am about to scream when my captor quickly turns me to face her, finger to her lips. She reaches into a bag slung across her and throws out a few little black marble looking things. At this point people who had followed me in from my own group fleeing in terror are running by getting gunned down. I hear a hiss and this girl hands me a bandana covering her own mouth with one and running yanking on me to follow suit.

Long story short, she helps me escape, she’s associated with another party altogether and has been saving people she found interesting. Was my board game collection that had piqued her interest.  Her group’s settlement is out of the mall. She’s got good folk, and she’s just a scout of sorts. The group realizes that I’m a man keen on keeping up the spirits, whether it’s helping people regain mementos, singing about a long lost time, or leading prayer. She saves me again escaping the mall, telling her I owe her twice now. Her name is Avery, I suppose I should mention that. She winks and nods her finger as if to jokingly disapprove.

Well. We hide out, our group splinters. We eventually have to make another run for it. Reaching into her bag again, she’s got me covered and will catch up later as she turns to divert attention with some other trick up her sleeve. Except she dies. I don’t rightly recall what happened to the rest of the people we were trying to escape from. But I ran to her. I held her as she is heaving her last breaths, her eyes distant, not knowing I was there. It was then I awoke. I wasn’t perturbed by this dream, this sort of thing is very regular actually. That one I thought was sort of fun. But it was the morning of my mom’s heart attack. In actuality, my mom had already had the heart attack by the time I awoke, but I had already gone on to work before getting a couple calls and scurrying off to check on her.

It was rough while she was in the hospital. But I kept telling her she would get out soon, because she would. Improvement every day, no indication of damage. Was just having a hard time coming off the respirator, doctor says it’s because she’s a smoker. I tease her about it. Keep her face cool with wet rags. She tries to worry about work, I do my best to not let her. Boldly keeping appearances up at the hospital, falling apart in fear at home.

Then they try to take her off the respirator after so many days of improvement and doing well. Something goes wrong, back to the respirator. She’s high on meds when I see her this night, her eyes won’t focus, but she’s trying to look at me. I tell her I love her very much and she’s gonna quit smoking when she gets home. I tell her I know it sucks she couldn’t come off the respirator and she nods. My girlfriend’s parents assist me with anointing her with oil to aid in healing the sick. I let her get rest. I go to work. Get off work, and have a migraine. I go lie down in the pitch black of the bathroom in the floor for an hour. Go up to hospital a little later than I intended. Bad news. But we don’t know what yet. I was gonna tell my mom happy birthday, I remembered this time. I wait around maybe 15 minutes with my family before we get news. It sounds foreign to me what’s being said, but I know it’s bad. I can’t bring my thoughts to focus. I’m already thinking of what I’m going to tell my mom about how I insisted smoking was bad, because this was a scare. I come back to the conversation when they are asking if things do take a turn, do I want them to try everything. Yes, there’s not even a question in my mind, of course.

Then 10 minutes later a doctor comes out and talks about things that I definitely don’te understand, my aunt with some experience with this asks questions about certain levels, I get the idea it’s worse. I suddenly feel very sick. Doc says what they are trying to do right now and leaves. My aunt looks at me and says she’s very sorry. In that moment I knew my mom was dying. This was a real fear from the previous week and it was here. I call my girlfriend and tell her to have her parents there too. I fall apart.

Eventually we go back to the room. And there is a nurse. I swear she looks exactly like Avery. And the room spins and I just latch to the idea that she’s here to save my mom. But she doesn’t. Complete organ failure for no explainable reason, and she’s gone, on her birthday, just like that.

I’ve been working through it a lot. And things like that, the Avery thing, I can’t tell if they are always real. Like I have a distrust for my brain from years of mental health issues and hallucinations. But I frequently recall my dreams with great detail and some memories don’t fade well either.

I keep telling myself my mom would have died when I was older anyway. I’m just getting it over with so I can be there for when someone else loses their mom. It doesn’t brighten me up, obviously. I remind myself I was lucky to have as much time as I did with her, that some people have more tragic stories.

And there’s chunks of peace and overall good grief work and progress. But right now, a lot of anxiety in this moment, but writing about that was a focus for something at least, my meds are finally starting to sink. Maybe I can catch the needed sleep before work

 

 

A weary post

I’m tired. Exhausted. Spent both physically and emotionally. On a night where I really just needed some rest, a few things have stacked against me and I made a decision that was not in my best interest.

Enter now. My mom has been on the edge of having a breakdown. There’s nothing I can say or do to make her feel better. Even temporarily. It’s all my fault or someone else’s. And I listened to her cry and scream and threaten for a couple hours tonight. My gut said to leave and get rest. My brain said to leave and get rest. I told my girlfriend I was leaving to go get rest. And I didn’t.
Instead. I somehow chose to be berated and belittled and not have my meds with me tonight because I’m some dutiful and obviously idiotic son.

My mom has it hard. I get that. She shouldn’t. But she does. But me being around her feels like a poison to both of us a lot of the time
Even when I’m being sincere and trying to make her happier.

Doesn’t matter. I have not slept right in days and now I’ll likely be up all night. Watching those hours tick by. Dreading when I have to get to work. Then my time is already taken up tomorrow evening for a Thanksgiving type thing with friends. When I will just want sleep. And my chest feels tight with anxiety already over things that shouldnt stress me and my mind flits to how terrible the world is while I just try my damndest to keep my eyes closed. But instead I’m just full of anxiety and tears.

So I end up here. As my outlet. I’m entitled to off days. I’m bipolar. Even treatment doesn’t 100% eliminate that. But. I’m really just wanting to call in tomorrow and not go to the dinner. I’m really just stressed for no real reason and it keeps building.

Tonight was most decidedly NOT what I needed. And I succumbed to it anyway. Stupid decision. Why can’t I just act on the right decisions?

I’m supposed to have 8-10 hours of sleep while on my meds. Maybe that doesn’t apply tonight because I couldn’t take them. But I haven’t got that in a couple days and this just added to that anxiety. Today started out so great too.

Any day is susceptible I suppose. I’ll just say some short prayers and see if I need to call in tomorrow. Not having the meds makes me incredibly sick the day after missing them. Again. I’m absolutely full of good thoughts ad decisions tonight.