The Mass Defective

Catastrophic mistake

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Defective) — Wed, 03 Aug 2016 09:37:00 +0000

Still alive, if anyone even cares anymore. Only one person in my life right now, my best friend, even gives a shit to keep in contact with me. Many people are upset that I moved across the country earlier this year. I'm upset with myself for doing it and every day is tinged with regret. I should not be in charge of my own life. All I ever do is fuck shit up, royally. And here I was thinking it'd be fun. Expand my horizons. Fuck!

I'm trapped in a state far away from my family and the one friend that genuinely cares about me. I want to move back to Chicago, but I'm so broke and the financial hole I'm in right now just seems to get deeper by the day. I don't even know what to do. I do have one family member here, but he doesn't have the means to help me get back to Chicago, and I have serious doubts that my car would make it that far. Had to take out a loan to get here, and get all my stuff here, so borrowing more is not an option. If I thought my car would make it and the things that are most important to me would all fit in it, I'd pack up and leave tomorrow. Fuck my roommate. Him, and my own stupidity and inability to say no, are what got me where I am right now. Luckily I'm not depressed to the point that thoughts of suicide are starting to flood back in...for now. If things remain as bad as they are, or if they get worse, I have no doubt they will return. I can feel them there, lurking.

This whole situation, from the financial disaster to the fucked up roommate situation is just so unbelievable that I can't even bring myself to type out the details. Knowing I did this to myself is the hardest pill to swallow. I don't know why I can't make wise choices in life. Everything I do ends up being one catastrophic mistake after another. How can someone be so fucked up, AND KNOW IT, and still screw their life up? I wish I knew, because that's me.

Suddenly he's gone

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Defective) — Wed, 01 Apr 2015 05:06:00 +0000

How does one feel so alone in a world full of billions of people? I'm not sure, but that is exactly how I'm feeling right now. Alone. Like no one knows I even exist. It's an empty, horrible feeling and all I want to do is cry. Maybe it's the depression. Maybe it's because I'm grieving.

I found out today that a friend of mine passed away. I just saw him a few days ago after having not seen him in awhile. We talked, we laughed, and now, suddenly, he's gone. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. I've never lost a friend before. I've had people in my life pass away. Grandparents, aunts, uncles....mostly elderly people, many of which were ill, so their deaths weren't a surprise. This? This is a shock. Hearing the words "he's dead" hit me like a punch to the stomach. It knocked the wind out of me, and the pain & nausea were instantaneous.

Worst of all, I had no one to reach out to and share the pain of my loss. I called a few people that also knew him, but they seem to be taking the news better than I am. Maybe they grieve differently. Maybe they didn't know him as well as I did. Their reactions left me feeling even more empty. I guess I was hoping I'd find someone on the other end of the phone that would share my tears, but I found no one to connect with on that level.

I wanted to call his mom and talk to her, but I wasn't sure that was a good idea. He was her everything and I know she is absolutely devastated. I will try and call her tomorrow. Offer whatever support I can. I know she is in poor health, and the sudden passing of her only son has me worried that she's going to give up trying to get better and hers will be the next death I'm informed of.

Corner of loud and busy

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Defective) — Tue, 24 Mar 2015 10:44:00 +0000

The only time I really get the urge to blog anymore is when I'm gripped with depression. Most of the time I don't bother, and just go to bed. Today I figured I'd try writing and see if it helps clear my head any. I probably should go to bed considering it's almost 5 am, but I'll see if this helps bring the misery down to a more tolerable level, because right now my mind is swirling with thoughts I'd rather not entertain.

I've managed to keep myself out of the hospital since November of 2013. That's quite a feat for me. It's the longest period of time I've gone without seeing the inside of a psych ward since August of 2003. Does that mean I'm doing better? Not necessarily. Maybe better at making everyone believe I'm doing okay and holding my own, but certainly not better in terms of the amount of depression, anxiety and suicidal ideation I deal with on a regular basis.

Haven't seen my pdoc since December or January. I was supposed to see him at the beginning of February, but I ended up taking off on a 3 week vacation the day I was supposed to go see him and I haven't bothered to call and schedule a new appointment. I probably should, but I haven't been taking my medications regularly, so I'm not sure there's any point. I try to take them, I just get caught up in weird sleep schedules and negative thinking, both of which hinder my ability to take them. The sleep schedule gets me confused on when to take them, especially the night time ones since my "night" varies from day to day. The negative thoughts keep me from accepting that it's a good idea for me to be taking them, particularly the MAOI. The last time I saw the pdoc, he bumped my MAOI up to six pills a day because the damn thing is only available in a 15 mg dose. Since I don't keep a normal daily schedule, it became next to impossible for me to take three pills twice a day (can't take them at bedtime because they could possibly keep me awake), so I stopped taking any. I have never had to follow the dietary restrictions that come with an MAOI, maybe because I was never on a very high dose, but that is another concern I have about swallowing six pills a day....I'll be forced to follow the diet, which I have no desire to. My go to snack food, aged cheeses like cheddar and bleu, are on the list of foods I shouldn't be eating because of the risk of a hypertensive crisis. Yes, my priorities are out of whack. Second only to chocolate, cheese is my favorite food and I'd rather be depressed & suicidal than have to give it up.

But anyway....my vacation was stressful but fun. It was a working vacation, working on finding a place to live when I move out West. Still trying to figure things out, something that's difficult considering a serious lack of money, but it's something I really want to do. Where there's a will, there's a way. I'm considering having my brother talk to his landlord to see if we can make a deal for me to stay with him for a few months until I can find something else. I'm just not sure I could handle his location. I'm looking for laid back and quiet. He's the opposite and quite literally lives at the corner of loud and busy. Even if it's just temporary, I'm not sure I could handle the stress of moving so far AND moving to a place that's louder and busier than the corner I currently live on. We shall see.

I'm alive

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Defective) — Mon, 27 Oct 2014 21:50:00 +0000

After many, many months of ignoring my blog, I finally opened the email account associated with it and found a message from a long time reader who was checking up on me. It was a nice surprise to have someone inquire as to how I've been doing.

I have been giving strong consideration to returning to blogging, which is why I even checked my email account to begin with. I'm just not sure if I should start a new blog or just continue to keep this one alive, since The Mass Defective has been my nickname since my daughter was little.

In terms of where I stand with my illnesses, nothing much has changed. Bipolar, anxiety and panic attacks are something I struggle with on a daily basis, particularly the panic attacks, which have gotten increasingly worse. After months of cycling between mania & hypomania, with bouts of depression thrown in for good measure, I'm fighting the deepening depression that always seems to come in the fall. Still haven't been able to pinpoint why my mood bottoms out at this time every year, but I'm doing all I can to avoid another hospital stay.

As far as other things going on in my life, my daughter graduated college with honors earlier this year and has already published her first novel. I'm so incredibly proud of her for chasing her dream. Sales have been slow, but there's interest and with the help of a PR firm she's hired, hopefully there will be even more interest. I'm currently trying to read her book, but it's not of a genre I typically read, so it's slow going for me. She also wants me to proofread it as I go along because she thinks she might have submitted the wrong file to have the paperback published. Luckily there aren't that many copies of it out there yet, since most of the sales have been for e-books, so once I get done and hand her the corrections, she can take a look at it, fix the necessary problems and have more copies printed.

As for me, I'm still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. Somehow, I'm not sure I'll ever know the answer.

Worried about my rapid cycling

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Defective) — Mon, 03 Mar 2014 20:48:00 +0000

I'm not sure if it's because I'm extremely sick with the flu or what, but my depression has been unbearable the last week or so. When I put it like that though, it couldn't just be because I'm sick. I didn't fall ill until Saturday and I've been struggling since last Sunday. Yesterday it was so horrible I was tempted to go to the hospital, but as always, it strikes at the worst time. My daughter and her boyfriend are on Spring Break and will be heading to Notre Dame so they can check things out because her boyfriend will probably be going there for Grad School. While they're gone, I'll be babysitting her bunny and there isn't anyone else that can volunteer to do that.

When I saw my pdoc last month, he was worried about my rapid cycling and made several suggestions on what we should do to get it under control. As always, his preference was to add Seroquel to my med mix again. With some reluctance I agreed, but he let me choose the dose I wanted and I went with a mild 50 mg. He apparently thought that was too low of a dose so he wrote the prescription out for 1 - 2 pills a day, which he didn't mention. I noticed it when I picked the script up from the pharmacy. One hasn't been helping me sleep, which is no doubt a huge contributor to my cycling and depression, but I took 2 yesterday and that didn't help either. It's hard to sleep when you can't breathe and your throat is extremely dry and scratchy. Maybe once this flu passes, the Seroquel will help level things out.

I did inform him that I was only going to take the Seroquel until the obsessive thoughts about how poisonous I think it is start screaming in my head again, as they always eventually do. I think he was happy that I agreed to take it, even if it might turn out to be a short term solution. I was just in the hospital in November, I don't want to go back to the days when I was going in multiple times a month or every 3-4 months, and I'm sure he doesn't want me in there that often either. Not when he sees Seroquel as a possible solution to the problem.

Whatever happens with my depression, I need to hold myself together until after March 18th. Out of desperation for ways to make extra money, I signed up to be an election judge again. I don't think this time it will be as overwhelming as it was when I worked the Presidential Election. This is just a Primary, and I don't think a lot of people care or see it as important as a major election, so I'm guessing there will be a lot of down time where we're just sitting around.

I'm trying to get my polling place assignment changed. The one they assigned me to is quite a distance from my current home, which makes absolutely no sense because they've had my new address for months. If I still lived with the old people, it would be about a 15-20 minute drive, but at least it would only be in the next town over. It'd take me a good 45 minutes to an hour to get there from where I live now and given that we have to be there at 5 am? Um yeah, I'm really not happy with that. I pretty much live at the intersection of 4 different towns, they couldn't give me a job working in one of them? I suppose if they can't switch me, I could always just spend the night at my folks house so that I am closer. We'll see what happens. I left a message for the guy I need to talk to earlier today. Just waiting for him to call back.

Punish myself

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Defective) — Wed, 12 Feb 2014 06:46:00 +0000

Once again I have been proven to be nothing more than a gullible imbecile. I believed it when the guy I like said he wanted to hang out with me today, after asking to borrow my car to go to the store. I should have known better. All he wanted was to borrow my car. He had no desire whatsoever to spend any time with me. And yet, I fell for it. As I always do. Fuck my heart.

Why don't I ever even listen to my head when it comes to matters of the heart? I know better and now I want to punish myself for being so fucking stupid. For wanting to believe that anyone could ever have any interest in me, even if it didn't extend beyond just a simple friendship. These days, even friendship is too much to ask for. To want. To desire.

I'm a piece of shit. I know this. And yet, I continually fool myself into believing people care. Why must I always torture myself this way?

A bit of what I've been up to

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Defective) — Mon, 10 Feb 2014 09:39:00 +0000

It's been awhile since I've written, so here's a bit of what I've been up to....

I went to my first Depression & Bipolar Support Alliance (DBSA) meeting with the group that meets closest to my new home. I miss the old group I used to go to, but I was quite impressed with this new group. I've wanted to go for months, but anxiety and just plain laziness kept getting in the way. This past week I finally made myself go and I'm glad I did. I felt completely relaxed. Everyone was friendly and I had no problem introducing myself. They meet twice a month and I'm looking forward to going again in two weeks.

My Medicaid was cut off in September, but I finally got re-approved last month, though now I have what they call a spenddown and it's rather high, more than $500 a month. I don't understand the whole process, nor do I understand how Medicaid thinks I can afford to pay more than a third of my monthly income on medical bills when I have rent and other bills, plus food, gas, clothing, etc. to pay for as well. I do know I've met my spenddown from this past October thru to the end of this month and possibly through the end of March as well. It left me with more than $800 in medical bills that I'm responsible for paying. I've paid all the smaller ones off already and set up a payment plan for one bill that was about $225. I still need to set up a payment plan for another that is $535. Luckily my case worker understands all this stuff and helps me get stuff submitted to Medicaid.

I'm getting beyond frustrated with several of my neighbors, to the point it makes me wish I hadn't moved in here. When I first interviewed to live here, I was told this place was for people with disabilities who were competent enough to live on their own. Quite a few of the residents have proven they aren't competent enough. Some are drinking themselves into oblivion almost daily. Others can't manage money and run around asking others for help when they don't have money at the end of the month because they've blown all theirs on stupid shit. Others don't understand boundaries, no matter how many times you remind them. I don't want to be friends with any of these people, other than a particular gentleman I've mentioned before, yet they confuse my politeness to mean I do want to be best buddies and listen to their bullshit.I could go on and on, but I'd better stop before I aggravate myself.

I suppose those are the highlights that have the most bearing on where I am mentally right now. Yes, I am still falling madly in love with a certain someone. I try not to think about him, but it does no good. He's always on my mind. I think he knows how I feel and is avoiding me, so maybe over time, as I see him less and less my feelings will just diminish on their own.

Shake myself free

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Defective) — Wed, 01 Jan 2014 08:55:00 +0000

2013 is finally over, and while 2014 is still in its infancy, I can already tell it's most likely going to be a year of confusion, with a healthy dose of disappointment added into the mix. It doesn't have to be, but in order to lessen the likelihood that will happen, I need to shake myself free of the growing desire I have for a particular gentleman. I need to stop following my heart and listen more to my brain. I know. Me? Listen to my brain? The one that deceives me every chance it gets? Unfortunately, this is one time when I think it's actually feeding me correct information. The two of us will never be more than just friends and I need to accept that.

If I can come to terms with that, I will probably be his best friend for a long time to come, or at least until he finds love with someone he wants to be with, which will probably be awhile since he has anxiety issues and I'm pretty much the only female he currently socializes with.

I don't have a clue

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Defective) — Tue, 03 Dec 2013 09:51:00 +0000

How do you learn how to make love, learn to be completely comfortable in that moment, let go and just fully enjoy it, when all of your earliest lessons in sex were taught via molestation? This is the random thought I had a few minutes ago while I was outside smoking a cigarette. I realized that I don't have a clue. Actually I've known I haven't had a clue since the first time I had sex with someone I was in a relationship with. Sex for me has always been void of any emotion. Thinking back, this was true with my ex-hubby, even when I was still madly in love with him. It has always been just something you do, especially when you're in a relationship. I tend to see it as my duty. A chore. Like doing the dishes or taking a shower.

Not sure why this even came to mind. It literally just popped into my mind and now I can't stop thinking about it. I've had lots of sex, with lots of different guys, most of whom I didn't even bother to find out their names. They hit on me and I acquiesced to their desire to have sex with me. No emotion. Plenty of second thoughts after the fact, but I rarely ever said no to anyone.

I suppose I'm thinking about this because I'm still falling in love even though that love isn't being reciprocated. It's a confusing relationship, especially when he makes comments or does things that can easily be misconstrued as him having feelings for me. Especially when he calls me "hon", which he does kind of frequently or when he leans in closer to me, like he wants to kiss me, but then doesn't. I never know how to take these remarks and actions, so I try not to read too much into them. Though, if things should ever develop into a relationship, I want to be able to make love to him, not just have emotionless sex. He deserves it, and so do I.

Payback for being stupid

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Defective) — Mon, 25 Nov 2013 05:10:00 +0000

I am so incredibly pissed off right now I can barely see straight. One of my neighbors came by earlier and asked if I had any beer. I said no and so he left. I didn't think anything of it because I've heard from someone that this guy likes to drink. Likes to drink too much.

About an hour or so later he comes back and asks if he can come in. Thinking he just wanted to talk because he said he couldn't sleep and not feeling he was any kind of threat, I allowed him inside. At first he just asks me if I'd go to his mother's 80th birthday party later this month, which I politely declined. Then he suddenly stands up right in front of me, declares he's itchy and proceeds to drop trou. I kid you not. Nearly right in front of my face. WTF?!?!? I told him to pull his fucking pants up and get out. He didn't even seem to understand why I was pissed off and telling him to leave, but at least he did without me having to get physical or grab a knife or something.

I can't fucking believe this happened. He asked me out once, a few months back, but I thought I made it clear to him that I wasn't interested, AT ALL. Now he has the nerve to try and shove his dick in my face? WTF?!?!? Who fucking does that? I feel like I should tell someone, but I'm not even sure who. My therapist? My case worker here in the building? The cops?

I want to move the fuck out of this place. I don't feel safe here. I don't even know if they'd let me break my lease. So what am I supposed to do? Lock myself inside and be a prisoner in my own apartment? He's not the only one that makes me feel unsafe, he's just been added to the list that seems to be growing on a monthly basis. People I thought were harmless, but have now shown me their true selves and I know I can't trust them. I'm starting to think I can't fucking trust anyone in this building.

Trust isn't even the word I should be using. I know I don't trust any of them. Guarded acquaintances would be a better description for the relationship I have with some of them, since I'm not really friends with any of them except one person, and now I'm doubting that friendship as well even though he hasn't given me any reason to. Guilt by association I guess. Guarded acquaintances and strangers, those are the relationships I have with the other people that live here. Now I'm wishing they were all just strangers. I wouldn't have let my guard down, wouldn't have let this prick inside my apartment. Fuck me for trying to be social and make friends. This is payback for being stupid.

Admitted defeat

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Defective) — Sat, 23 Nov 2013 03:38:00 +0000

Finally admitted defeat and had myself committed to the hospital for the last week. Talked my way out yesterday because I was just too frustrated to stay any longer. There wasn't much more they could do for me anyway. My pdoc switched most all my meds so now I'm on Nardil, Doxepin and Tegretol. The only one he didn't switch was the Ativan, though he did change it from three times a day to twice a day. I'm not too thrilled with that change, because while it was working for me in the hospital, there are many more triggers for my anxiety out in the real world. We'll see how it goes. I see him in three weeks, so if it's not working, I'll definitely let him know.

I was told by my case worker in the hospital that my "treatment team" was pushing for me to do a partial hospitalization program (PHP) once I was released, but I declined. Turns out that the only one pushing for that was my therapist. Before I even said how I felt about it, my pdoc said it wasn't a good idea for me to do it because it would only make me extremely frustrated and he's right. It wasn't that long ago that I did a PHP and I'm sure, even though the one my therapist wanted me to do is at a different location, that the information they'd cover would pretty much be the same. Especially since the location my therapist is at is affiliated with the hospital that I last did the PHP at in September/October of last year.

I do need to do something different, because the way things have been going just isn't working for me. I even journaled about some changes I'd like to make while I was inpatient. I'm interested in doing an anxiety group my therapist has mentioned before. I'd also like to try the DBSA group that meets closer to where I live now because I really liked the one that was near where I lived before. Not sure if they run things the same way, but I'd be curious to go and find out. I have had their meetings written on my calendar for the last several months, but really haven't made any effort to attend. Next month I will.

I kept to myself a lot while I was in the hospital. Partly because I found many of the other patients annoying, but mainly because I tend to go into caregiver mode whenever I'm inpatient. I become everyone else's therapist and spend little time paying attention to the reasons why I was admitted. It felt weird. I felt like I was being rude, but I knew it was something I needed to do to take care of myself. I did mention in a couple of groups that that was the reason why I seemed to be awfully quiet. Luckily there was another woman there that seemed to take over my duties, though she never did give me any advice.

Adjusting to being back home has been a bit of a struggle. I've slept a lot since I got home because I didn't sleep well when I was locked away. Think I got caught up, though I know you can never truly get caught up on missed sleep.

I think one of the things I'm struggling with is just being here alone. Even though the people in the hospital were pissing me off, I knew I wasn't alone and there was always someone to talk to if I chose to. I used to love living alone when I was younger, but I think that's because I didn't spend a whole lot of time at home. I was always out and about, either working or hanging out at the clubs, or just hanging with friends somewhere. Being here, I'm usually all alone. Sure I could reach out to people on FB and even call them, but more often than not I just feel completely cut off from the world. That's one of the things I need to change. I need to get over my anxieties and get out more. Hopefully the more I get out, the more friends I'll make and the more opportunities I'll have to get away from home.

Failed

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Defective) — Tue, 12 Nov 2013 01:35:00 +0000

I think I'm about to lose a close friend and it's my fault for revealing more about myself than I knew I should have. There are some things I just need to keep quiet about and yet, I failed to edit the words that were coming out of my mouth. Maybe, subconsciously, it was a deliberate move on my part. Maybe I'm just a complete fucking idiot. Most likely it was a bit of both. Either way, the damage is done and I have to live with the consequences.

Doesn't seem to matter that I try to be a supportive and caring friend to those that I truly care about. All that becomes insignificant when people learn about the things that go on inside this damn, defective brain of mine. At first, people say they don't care that I'm crazy in the head, but once they get a glimpse of that crazy, they run for the hills.

Life sucks...and so do people.

Life sucks

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Defective) — Fri, 25 Oct 2013 01:41:00 +0000

Still unsure if I should be in the hospital or not. I have only slept an hour in the past 48 and tonight is already looking like it'll be another sleepless one. I have not taken my medications in about a week. They weren't working anyway, so why bother. Even the Depakote seemed to have stopped working. I take an Ativan every now and then when I can't tolerate the anxiety any more, but other than that, I just tolerate the misery as best I can.

Even if I wanted to be in the hospital right now, I can't go anywhere until after this weekend. Supposedly I promised my daughter I'd take her to several appointments on Saturday. I thought she had made arrangements to have someone else drive, but she says I agreed to do it because no one else was available. I have no memory of the conversation, so maybe I did agree, maybe I didn't...who knows. Either way, I have since agreed, so I can't get out of it. They are important appointments, including seeing her doctor.

I've had several calls from friends the last few days about wanting to get together sometime soon, but as always, it's only if I go to THEIR house...most of which are about a 45 minute drive east or west. They never come to my house to visit. Sorry. My car is getting too old and needs work done on it, so I'm trying to drive it as little as possible, except when I need to get my daughter some place. I'm getting sick of people expecting me to do all the work of maintaining friendships. Actually, I'm just getting sick of people in general.

Life just sucks all around.

Avoiding

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Defective) — Mon, 21 Oct 2013 03:41:00 +0000

To say I've been struggling for sometime with my depression would be the understatement of the year. Today it boiled over with a massive amount of crying in the dark and an assault on my body the likes of which I have not seen in years. I probably should go the ER and have the wounds stitched up, but I fear being admitted inpatient if I do and I can't go into the hospital right now, even if it's probably what I need.

I wrapped my arms with the gauze pads and other bandages the paramedics left behind the last time I tried to kill myself. Hopefully that will hold for a few days. I'm sure I'll be left with more ugly scars, but when your arms are already covered with them, the worst ones having come from when you were in the hospital, a few more really won't make a difference.

Having finally let some of those emotions out, I do feel a bit better, though certainly not well enough to function at a reasonable level. I will probably just stay in bed for the next few days, avoiding people. Avoiding my birthday. Avoiding food. Avoiding sunlight. Avoiding the medications that aren't working. Avoiding everything I guess. It might do me some good since I spent the several days being the center of attention and I am emotionally spent.

Ready to give in

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Defective) — Thu, 29 Aug 2013 20:54:00 +0000

Once again I'm flailing in the dark abyss of depression. It hurts to move, it hurts to breathe, it hurts to know I'm still alive. I've been swallowed whole to this point so many times only to get regurgitated back out when someone (sometimes myself) intervenes and ships me off to the hospital. But the hospital is just life support for me, for my terminal illness and I'm so tired of feeling like this that I'm about ready to give in and let the illness take me. I'm just...So. Damn. Tired.

FUBAR

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Defective) — Fri, 23 Aug 2013 19:23:00 +0000

I'm really struggling to adjust to living in my new apartment. When I met with my case worker here yesterday, she asked if I wanted to explore my options for moving out and for a good 30 seconds I actually thought of saying yes. But I have no where else to go, except back to my parent's house and that's the last place I want to be. Plus it was such a headache to move in, I don't want that to have all been for naught.

On top of my ever increasing depression, the financial stress of living here is starting to get to me, especially after I received my letter from Medicaid Tuesday. I knew one was eventually coming, but I still wasn't prepared and I certainly wasn't prepared for there to be a mistake on it. As of September 1st, the letter says I'm no longer eligible for Medicaid, which isn't true.

Instead of instantly panicking (which was a huge surprise to me that I didn't), I managed to hold it together and fly out to the DHS office before they closed to find out what was going on. Someone mistakenly changed my case from being one that was for a disabled person to a family care plan. My daughter did have Medicaid for awhile, but she had her own case and when she aged out of the system a couple of years ago, we received a letter saying that her case was being closed. Now they're saying I don't qualify because I don't have an eligible child, even though my child was never listed on my case to begin with.

So now I have to reapply for benefits, but either way, I'm going to have approximately a $500 spenddown before they'll pay anything because I supposedly make too much money from Social Security (ha, ha, that's such a joke). Just how poor do they want us to be? I'm disabled and can't work, but without the medical care, I can't get better to get a job. If they think I should have a $500 spend down, they're obviously not taking into account the cost of living, outside of the average 30% for housing. What about food, transportation, clothing? I'm just lucky I don't have to pay for any utilities except my phone or I'd be really screwed. The whole system is just FUBAR.

Ugly crying

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Defective) — Wed, 14 Aug 2013 00:50:00 +0000

I had an incredibly emotional visit with my therapist today. I was literally ugly crying in her office and I don't ugly cry in front of anyone, not even my daughter. I'm just so tired and exhausted from hauling this depression around with me, day after day, year after year.

I told her I went to the social group our building offers yesterday even though all I wanted to do was stay in bed. Turns out, I should have stayed in bed. They did this thing to help everyone get to know each other. They started with age 0 and you had to state something you remember from that age. Obviously the first few weren't memories, but people still listed what they might have done, like learn to walk or talk.

So my first turn is age 9. Well gee...at age nine I was enduring some of the worst abuse of my life, from all angles. Parents, siblings, classmates, my molester and even a teacher. So I told them they didn't want to hear about that and passed.

The next time it came around to me the age was 22. Ah, 22. I was an alcoholic party girl who was more interested in clubbing, drinking and smoking than I was in food or holding down a job.

Next in line was 35. Well, well, well. Quite possibly the worst year of my life. That's the year I found out my exhubby was cheating on me and I threw him out. Then I had my first of many inpatient hospital stays, most of which were involuntary, after going completely off the deep end from which I've never recovered. Happy times.

This is how it goes for me. I try to do something positive, i.e. go to group to socialize since I tend to isolate, and all it does is trigger the negative.

I told my therapist about how alone I feel, which is what triggered the ugly crying. How I don't feel like I relate to the other residents. That I'm the outsider looking in. I've felt that way my entire life and it's lonely. Even when I'm a part of something, I can still feel that emptiness inside, the one that makes me "different" from everyone else.

I'm pretty sure if I hadn't specifically said I had no plans to kill myself, she would have sent me to the hospital. I told her I wasn't going to guarantee that I wouldn't self harm, but I wasn't interested in suicide. I'm just interested in sleep right now.

No one to play with

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Defective) — Mon, 12 Aug 2013 01:57:00 +0000

I'm still trying to make my new place feel comfy, like it's mine and I should be here, but I'm failing miserably. I've now been here for just over a month and I know these things take time, but I feel like an outsider, like I just don't belong. It doesn't help when people ask which resident I'm visiting, as if I couldn't possibly live here myself, or when I see other residents who've known each other for awhile hanging around having fun together. It's like being that little girl in the school yard again, standing off to the side with no one to play with.

It also doesn't help that even my therapist doesn't seem to think I'm as sick as I truly am, even as my depression worsens. She tells me I pathologize myself too much. To me it seems as if she believes, like so many others do, that you can look at someone and tell how mentally ill they are because they don't shower or they're talking to themselves, etc. I'm sorry I'm obsessed with showering before I go out in public. I've been like that since I was a teenager. Just because I'm clean on the outside doesn't mean things aren't horribly rotten on the inside. For example, just yesterday morning I was hallucinating that my ceiling was breathing. I kept telling myself it wasn't real, I'm still telling myself it wasn't real, but I also keep checking the ceiling to see what's going to happen next. That's not the sign of someone who's mentally healthy.

I just don't know how to make anyone understand just how fucked up things are inside my head. They certainly can't step inside and take a look around, so how do I convey the seriousness of what's going on to them? How do I get them to believe what I'm saying?

New home

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Defective) — Fri, 12 Jul 2013 17:50:00 +0000

It's now July and I'm living in a new apartment. It took a lot of paperwork, blood, sweat and tears, but I'm here. The building is brand new, so I'm the first person to have this apartment. It's nice and since I was able to choose a corner unit, I have lots of windows. I like that they didn't skimp on any of the details just because it's housing built specifically for people with disabilities, mental and physical.

The rent is doable, mostly because all utilities are included except cable. I'm certainly going to get cable, because without it I can't get any channels, not even the local ones. My daughter is letting me borrow the TV her and her boyfriend had in their apartment and right now I have it hooked up to my DVD player, so I can at least watch all the movies I have. Yesterday I started watching season 1 of Grey's Anatomy, since I haven't watched it in a long time.

For the most part I'm unpacked. After having a lot of my belongings packed away in boxes for 10 years, it took awhile to sort through everything. I actually did that before moving in. Threw a lot of junk out and also made a huge pile of stuff to be donated. Still had lots of packing to do because I had to pack everything I'd accumulated in the last 10 years that wasn't in boxes yet. I worked on it slowly though, so I wouldn't get overwhelmed at all that had to get done.

My daughter and her boyfriend helped me move in. I wasn't able to bring any of my own furniture (the apartment came partially furnished), but we still had a lot to move. Got extremely bruised, sore and bloody, but we got everything moved out of one house and into the other in about 5 hours. Even got the rental truck back in time to get my deposit back, since that is the only cash I had left to live on for the month.

Now it's just a matter of adjusting to my surroundings and being alone. They are going to have wifi throughout the building, but it's not up and running yet, so for now I have to come down to the first floor and use the computers they have set up for people that don't have them. Don't understand why they didn't set up the wifi when they were setting these up because these have internet access, but I suppose I shouldn't complain. I have access, even if it isn't in the comfort of my own apartment where I can be alone.

Maybe tomorrow I'll bring the cord for my phone down and post the pictures I took of my new home.

No idea

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Defective) — Thu, 20 Jun 2013 22:04:00 +0000

May has come and gone, as well as most of June and my stress level has been so high that I swear I'm going to have either a heart attack, stroke or aneurysm at any moment. I'm physically sick from the stress and anxiety I've been experiencing and little seems to calm me down, well, except a drink or two along with a dose of Ativan, but even that only offers a temporary reprieve of an hour or two.

After a ton of stress filling out paperwork and trying to get the right forms to the right people (that's a whole other post I'm not even going to get into), I have supposedly been approved for an apartment in the building I spoke about in my last post. My daughter and I went there on June 10th to fill out more paperwork for the property management company, take a tour of the building, select an apartment and put down a deposit. I was told they were doing one last credit check and if I was approved, I'd hear from them by Wednesday. As the day wore on, I got more and more anxious, so I decided to call and was given verbal confirmation that yes, I was approved and that I'd be receiving an approval letter in the mail. That was on the 12th. It's now the 20th and I have heard nothing back from anyone.

I have no idea what my rent and utilities will be. No idea when or if I'll be moving in. No idea if I should start packing or if they've changed their mind and given the apartment to someone more worthy. There are so many different agencies involved at this point that I'm not even sure who to start calling to find out the answers to any of my questions and I'm still too stressed to pick up the phone and deal with any runaround I might be given.

On top of the stress and anxiety, I've sunk into a severe depression again as well. I haven't gotten to the point where I'm planning anything, but I am at the point where I can't help but wonder is any of this worth it. Is taking my next breath worth the struggle to pass myself off as living when I always feel so dead inside?

My therapist wanted me to explain to her what my depression is like. I didn't say anything because I've written what it feels like time and time again here on my blog. Maybe I'll just print out some examples and bring them to her. Her belief is that if you can describe the feelings, it will lessen their hold on you, or something along those lines. I don't subscribe to her way of thinking, because if that were true, I'd never have experienced so much soul-sucking depression since the age of 14.

Hoping I could just forget

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Defective) — Sat, 11 May 2013 00:29:00 +0000

Just when you don't think you can get any more mentally stressed, WHAM! You get side-swiped. Back in the middle of April I filled out an application to get on a wait list for an apartment in a new supportive housing building for those with mental and physical disabilities, plus a certain number of units will be specifically reserved for veterans. The building is ironically located just around the corner from where I had spent 7+ years living with my daughter & her sperm donor, before I went completely insane, he cheated on me and I ended up moving back in with the old people.

Anyway, I hadn't expected to hear anything back for awhile, but last Friday I received a rather large packet of forms that needed to be filled out and a rather long list of information that I needed to supply to the Housing Authority at a meeting they scheduled for us yesterday.

Couldn't work on most of it last Friday, Saturday or Sunday because I was working on our NAMI fundraiser. I tried to get some of it together on Monday, but they also needed all the same info from my daughter since she would be living with me when not in school. Couldn't do anything Tuesday because she was moving home for the summer and I was working a mental health fair. Wednesday we had to go renew her ID since they needed a copy of that and then we had to go get one of the forms she had to fill out notarized. A lot of the paperwork was really confusing because of our situation with her being away at school and having her own apartment most of the year.

When we went to the meeting yesterday I was in complete panic mode. I took an Ativan, but I still felt like I was going to pass out, throw up and lose all control of my bowels. It was horrible. Thankfully my daughter had to be there since she was over 18 and would be living with me part time, and she was able to help answer some of the questions they were asking me.

On the way home I was so worked up and needed to relax that we stopped at a bar. We each only had one drink, but that was enough to get me to focus on driving instead of on the panic. I was so spent by the time we got home, I passed out and took a nap. I don't think I've fallen asleep that fast since, without the use of Seroquel, since 2003!

I was hoping I could just forget about the whole thing for now and if they call me great, if not, whatever, but I find myself still thinking about it and when I think about it, I start to panic. I really want this apartment. To have some level of independence, but yet still have staff available that I can go to on site if I start to struggle with anything from taking my medications to dealing with my insurance, that'd be so much better than the living situation I have now.

Haven't really addressed much

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Defective) — Sun, 28 Apr 2013 20:54:00 +0000

Tomorrow I'm supposed to review my treatment plan with my therapist. I've had my copy of the thing sitting in my inbox since she gave it to me because I felt there were things we needed to discuss about it and I tried bringing some of those things up in our early sessions, but we never really got anywhere with them. Now after reviewing what was on the plan I can honestly say that, after six months, we haven't really addressed much.

I did finally confess to her last week that I had gone off all my meds, but that I have also since gone back on all of them. I feel like shit on or off them and at this point I'm too damn confused as to what to do, so I'll just stay on them until I see my pdoc next month. My head feels foggy and my memory problems are much worse while taking them, but they've already done so much damage, I don't think I'll ever be able to function at the mental capacity I once did, so what difference does it make if I keep taking them.

There is so much on my calendar this week and next week, and I'm not really looking forward to any of it. We have a NAMI fundraiser coming up next weekend that we have to put the finishing touches on this week, plus I have to clean my house because a friend of mine is coming out to help with the fundraiser and will be staying with me. Then the following week I have to help my daughter move home for the summer. I wish there was some way to do an I Dream of Jeannie, just blink and have it all be done. I have very little physical energy and no mental energy to do any of this.

I listened and stopped

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Defective) — Tue, 09 Apr 2013 02:19:00 +0000

My experiment of trying to live a "normal" life these past several weeks has been a complete failure. I tried not letting the depression I felt building keep me from doing the things I needed to. I took on more responsibilities with NAMI and have been helping my sister get her home business up and running. And while everyone was busy complimenting me on how well I seemed to be doing, including my therapist, I was quickly unraveling on the inside.

I was becoming more depressed and lethargic, so my pdoc upped the dose of Cytomel I was on to a level he was unfamiliar with and wasn't sure how I'd respond, hoping it would give me more energy. It sent me into a horrible mixed state. I was just as depressed, only my mind was running 1,000 mph, so I wasn't able to sleep. I finally stopped taking it after about 5 days of almost no sleep.

Once I stopped that med, I became practically bedridden with depression. I didn't want to see anyone, hear anyone. I didn't want to see the sun. I didn't want to know I even existed. I was sleeping 12-16 hours a day and I wanted to continue sleeping until I wasted away into death.

When I was awake, I couldn't help but think, "why am I swallowing all these pills every day just to feel lousy?" Apparently the selves (as previously described here) inside my head, which when they aren't drugged into submission love to battle over control of my brain, heard that question and started repeating it over and over. "Yeah? Why are you on these drugs that aren't working?" So I listened and stopped taking them.

It has been a free-for-all since. Without the drugs to numb my brain into silence, it never shuts up. I had gone several days without sleep, but yesterday was so exhausted, I finally did get a few hours. Most of the time when I can't sleep, it's because the selves are bringing up toxic memories from my past, or they are fighting over who's really in control.

The one thing I've learned from quitting my meds this time is that they don't do anything to fix whatever's wrong inside my head. They don't even relieve the symptoms most of the time, they just mask them, all the while doing irreparable harm to my brain and memory. What's the point of that?

Don't believe

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Defective) — Tue, 26 Mar 2013 05:11:00 +0000

Seems my therapist likes to cancel on me at least once a month, sometimes more than once. Usually I'm told it's due to "illness" but I don't believe this is the real reason. I suppose it's best that she cancelled on me today because I honestly didn't feel like going. Not only am I depressed, but I'm also suffering from Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder. I was tempted to either slit my wrists earlier or take a coat hanger and permanently remove my uterus.

Still I managed to get in the shower, something I hadn't done for three days, and go to the NAMI Board Meeting tonight. It was an important meeting, so I needed to be there and didn't really feel there was an option to just stay curled up in bed. I made myself look extra appealing, with more make-up than I usually wear, dressed nice, put on a smiling face and pretended everything was just hunky-dory so no one was any the wiser.

If I didn't need to go pick up prescriptions tomorrow, I wouldn't get out of bed for the rest of the week. I sure as heck ain't bothering with showering. I'll throw on a hoodie and go through the drive-thru so I don't even have to get out of the car. Oh shit, I have to go out on Wednesday. I promised my nieces I'd come over and spend time with them while they're on Spring Break. Fuck.

I'll only have two days after that before my daughter comes home for Easter weekend, though whether or not she's planning to spend any time with me or not is unknown. I think she's avoiding me.

Not where I was

noreply@blogger.com (Miss Defective) — Sun, 10 Mar 2013 01:43:00 +0000

I hadn't planned to write for a few days and then disappear again for a week and a half, but things have actually been kind of busy around here. Haven't yet decided if that's a good or bad thing. I suppose I'll find out if or when I crash. Keeping busy has left me totally confused as to what day of the week it is, so has having my daughter home this past week because she is on Spring Break.

To date, March has looked like this:

1st - Went to see a play at my daughter's college. She only had to work the information desk until the play started and instead of joining me, because she had already seen the play, she ditched me and went home. I totally didn't appreciate that. Lately it seems like the only time she's willing to spend time with me or even talk to me is when she needs something (clothes, medical bills paid, food, etc). Half the time she doesn't even acknowledge when I send her a text. I still haven't seen the pictures we took at Disney 2 months ago! Supposedly she uploaded them to google+ and was going to send me the login information, but hasn't even though I regularly ask her for it. Even with her being on Spring Break, I have barely seen her. She spends all her time at her boyfriend's house even though she lives with him and sees him every day of the week while they're at school.

2nd - Went to my sister's house and set up her Facebook page for the home business she's starting. Took some photos of the products she'll be selling. We then attended the musical being held at the high school her oldest daughter goes to.

3rd - Updated my checkbook since I haven't been recording receipts into it for a couple of weeks. Did laundry. Worked on my sister's Facebook page some more. Worked on our NAMI Facebook page. Fixed my printer.

4th - Saw my therapist, which was not fun. We went over the homework she had given me last week and discussed the answers I gave for disgust and glad. I initially was afraid to even show her the papers. I asked her what she was going to do with them. She assured me they were mine and that I could take them with me, though she would like a copy to put in my chart if I would let her. I said absolutely not and she said that's fine, she would respect that. I just feel like any information I give her or anyone else in a position to have me locked up would get twisted and used against me and I explained that to her. After my session with her, I did my weekly grocery shopping since I was already out of the house.

5th - Only day I was able to sit around and do nothing. I did read 'A Child Called It' and started reading 'Silver Linings Playbook'. I'm disappointed that I saw the movie before reading the book for Silver Linings because the book, as usual, is much better and quite different than the movie. Don't get me wrong, I really liked the movie and would definitely see it again. But I have to highly recommend reading the book to anyone that hasn't seen the movie yet.

6th - Went to lunch with my daughter, ran around shopping at a couple of stores and then went to my sister's house to help work on her business. Didn't leave there til midnight even though my sister had to work the next morning and her kids had school.

7th- Got my bank statement so I balanced my checkbook. Paid my bills. My car insurance is being jacked up 15% for no reason, and I say no reason because I have the no accident discount on the renewal notice, I haven't had a ticket that went on my record since I was 23 and I printed out my credit reports to make sure all the negative crap that was on there from my ex-hubby was gone and my credit is pristine again. So I'll call them and find out why they want to raise it so much, especially since my car is 10 years old. If I can't get them to drop it back down, I'll just get quotes from other companies.

8th - I had stayed in my pajamas until 4 pm, but then my sister called and asked if I'd come over and help work on her business because today she had her first chance to sell her merchandise. I stayed there until 1 am.

I know that doesn't seem busy by other people's standards. Heck, if I had read this myself back in the mid 90's when I was working 3 jobs, as well as being a wife, mother, chauffeur, chef, housekeeper, etc. I would have said, "that's not busy, you haven't got a damn clue what busy is".

Even though I know I'm doing much more than I was say in 2004 when I was basically catatonic or in previous years where I was hospitalized multiple times (made it through 2012 without being inpatient), I still feel like a failure because I'm not where I was in the 90's. I'm not as productive as I have been, as I think I should still be able to be.