Stop it!

People need to stop telling me that Padiddle is old and not going to last much longer. I have been told to prepare for her to die for years. She is 16 and the only thing wrong with her is she has arthritis. She goes to the vet every 6 months for blood work to make sure her medication for her paws doesn’t hurt her poor little kidneys. She has strong healthy kidneys for any cat not just an older cat. She runs purely off of love and snuggles. Why are people so freaking rude? Especially when they know how much I love her. We have a I healthy codependency and we both like it that way. Wesker does too but she is only 4 so no one tells me she is going to die, at least not yet.

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Nooooooooo

I spent all morning baking. It took all my energy and then my cat threw up, my pie exploded on the stove top, everything fell on to the floor from my freezer, and when I tried to clean up I kept making more of a mess. At on point I was curled up on the floor with the glass and freezer contents and had a nice break down.

And I am the weird one…

I am usually crying already when I get to group therapy. When we go around and talk about ourselves I don’t really say much. I am always willing to speak or do exercises in front of everyone. Even with anxiety I really have no shame. How am I to get better if I don’t try what professionals tell me to do?

I always have a zip lock bag full of kleenex and an empty one for the tissue when used and all snotty. When some next to me begins to cry I whip out my soft tissue for them instead of the cheap stuff supplied there. When you cry as much as I do it makes a difference. A lady was next to me and was saying that she didn’t know why she was so depressed and tired all the time. She then went on to say she lost her dog, sister, both parents, and three friends all in one year. I start crying heavily because my heart just breaks for her. Everyone stopped to see if I was okay. I had ahold of her hand and was telling the woman it is okay and to let out her tears, as she was balling too. I looked at the rest of the group and just asked them why they were concerned about me, when she was the one in pain. It is call empathy look it up people. No wonder the poor woman was having problems so much grief. Where do you even begin to start healing? Clearly this group isn’t the best at comforting who needs it.

Promise

If I had cancer family and friends would read up on it to see what exactly is going on, especially my mom. Mom was a nurse and if my sister or I get sick with anything she is looking through her books and online to see if she is correct in the diagnosis. She was the one who caught my shingles early so they didn’t start to weep. Since Mom has mild anxiety she doesn’t get the difference between what she has ( which is me when I am ‘healthy’) and what I have now. I would assume if your baby had a disease that was life threatening you would learn about it. Nope. I try to explain how serious and how it is the disease not the person who actually is responsible for the death. She says ‘ but you know you are loved and not to do it’ . Mom makes sure I know I am loved and needed everyday.

Do not get me wrong, best Mom in the world, best Dad, but not up to date on mental health. I teach them everything about it. I think it is harder on them as they don’t live here. I get why they don’t look it up. It is scary and they really can’t do much from a different country to prevent me from hurting myself. I can’t promise I am not going to kill myself. I can promise that I will fight until I am no longer in control. I force myself to do things that I know are good for me. Working out is sheer hell when exhausted all the time, but I have to do it. Heart disease and high blood pressure can fuck right off! I have to work out 40-60 mins a day to remain healthy due to my medication. If anything is going to kill me it is either going to be suicide, or a hilarious melon baller accident.

Can’t you see this hell?

Anxiety and depression is a nightmare hell scape that is wish on no one. Even with me telling people how bad I am they still don’t get it until they see me at my wits end. I don’t hide that I am one sick woman. I am getting help and have no problem with talking about my disease. Needing a service animal is not what I want. I don’t want to carry my cat with me, I don’t want to be paranoid, I don’t want to be depressed or anxious every second of my life. I sleep most of the time.

People ask what is wrong all the time. It is clearly my mental illness. I get told I am not hiding my illness. Why the hell would I hide it? I am in a living nightmare. I am not okay. I am very sick. Because my normal personality is perky and happy all the time people think I should act that way all the time. I don’t smile because I either feel dead inside from being numb and exhausted or I am crying. I am only alive because medical Marijuana takes the edge off. I would be dead if it didn’t make life just bare able.

I refuse to use up energy pretending to be okay when around others just to make them feel better. I am in a never ending battle with the government to demand my rights. I am internally fighting and digging deep just to stay alive. You can have fake happy Jenny for a few days and then I kill myself, or you can have anxious Jenny who is literally fighting for her life. I don’t really want to stay alive, but I know that is just the disease so I fight with every fiber in my being. Knowing it is a disease making me think this way doesn’t make it easier. It does make fighting for my rights easier though.

What you don’t see

People don’t get anxiety and depression if they don’t have it. I don’t know if people think I am exaggerating when I say I am no where near healthy. They see me when I am having a “good day” .

They don’t see the kleenex in bulk I buy and use up pretty fast. They don’t see the black bags around my eyes that make me look like I have two black eyes. They don’t see that I spend most of my day in bed because I just can’t. Pants are too much work to get out of. It literally exhausts me. With a dress one item off and done. If I do wear a bra it is a sports bra.

Warning lady bit rant.

I have to be on birth control to keep my period from making me pass out. I am having my period when it is not sugar pill week. My breasts have grown in a week! My bras that have cups are too small. I have to wear a sports bra. Which I have been doing lately anyway. My breasts hurt so bad. I am going to see my dr tomorrow anyway so I am going to bring this up. My body needs to get its shit together because I can not handle it! If my ovaries start acting up, or get a cyst I am going to lose it. My hormones are so wonky. I don’t think my body knows what it going on.

Elton John

I got insulted a little that that my friend didn’t believe me that it really was Elton John in the new ‘kingsmen’ movie. He didn’t believe it really was Elton, despite me saying I was 100% sure. I may have anxiety and mush brain, but I know my gay icons. I would know it was Elton if I was blind and deaf. I don’t know why I was a little offended. I guess the moral of this story is don’t question me on stuff that I am confident on. I am an anxious mess, but some things I will always know.

Anxiety Problems

I have no extra income. I really can’t afford to live on what the government gives me. I have to rely on friends and family. I was given money for supper tonight because my cousin is in town and we were going to get take out. Well I don’t think we are doing anything tonight and I have my heart set on take out, huge treat. I am too scared to pay the delivery person though. I am tired and crying. All I want is food, and fur baby snuggles, but I can’t get the food! Ugh. I am already crying so I doubt the delivery person would enjoy someone having a panic attack at them. Why can’t robots just deliver things? Or they just take my money from the mail box and ring the bell then leave. Once gone I can get my food. This is not a healthy problem to have.

Confused.

I am so confused as to why people think once I get everything sorted out with getting the rights and resources I need I will start to heal. I kept being told not to feel bad about having a good day or not do something because I think it will harm my disability claim. I wish I had days like that! I wasn’t worried about disability because I am that anxious. I know I will get what I need because I won’t stop until either I get the help or I die from the disease. I have a chemical imbalance along with who knows what else. Our health care is free to an extent. It doesn’t favor the mentally ill at ALL.

I don’t understand why I am constantly telling people how bad I am and they don’t seem to get it. No one except for my family dr has seen me be me. They think the quiet shell of a human is me having a good day because I am not uncontrollably crying. I keep being asked what is wrong with me by people who know me well. They know what is wrong with me the answer is always anxiety.

I keep being told that if I kill myself my mother would never get over it. What kind of head fuck is that? It isn’t my mom saying it, but mental health professionals who have never met my mother. Apparently no one cares if my father and sister would be upset.