She Chased My Mom Out

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Isn’t there some kind of common courtesy rule of not wearing perfume and then putting on more perfume in the doctor’s office? Especially one as tiny as this?

My mother ran out of the room she has it on so strong.

This post was drafted from mobile device and is more than likely riddled with typos and grammatical errors. Please forgive and forget folks. If it is not too much of a bother, that is.

It Feels Like A Game of Snakes and Ladders

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Are there any suggestions on itemizing and listing your symptoms and issues?

I know that this first visit will obviously not address everything and I cannot possibly believe that I could list everything to my satisfaction but I would still like to at least try.

It would help me feel better.

This post was drafted from mobile device and is more than likely riddled with typos and grammatical errors. Please forgive and forget folks. If it is not too much of a bother, that is.

Listing and Bullet Points

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I found two legal pads lying around (my first love, I believe really). They were a God send when I was a senior in high school and took over the culinary program for Chef.

And they kind helped this time but barely. Just barely. Everything is still a jumbled mess and it it hard to categorize and list when everything twists and turns and points to each other.

“It is all their fault!”

Like a five year old, really.

I just referred to my (issues? Mental health? Disorders? Disabilities? Bitchabouts?) whatchamacallits as children.

Well. Fun. 

This post was drafted from mobile device and is more than likely riddled with typos and grammatical errors. Please forgive and forget folks. If it is not too much of a bother, that is.

On Wednesday I Made An Appointment

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On Wednesday I made an appointment to see this psychiatrist that was recommended to me. On one hand I feel a sense a calm about finally making this step but on the other I am a mess.

People tease me about my “squirrel brain” or ADD tendencies but when it is actually in full force I get absolutely nothing done. I haven’t even been writing in my journal because I can barely finish a thought let alone a sentence and this post has been drafted well over ten times since making the appointment.

Not to mention my attempts to make detailed and yet straight to the point listings of my symptoms and frustrations for this appointment. How do I put struggles I have faced my entire life into a (assumedly) forty five minute window?

My mother was first going to come with me, more to make her feel better than I. None of her other kids have taken this step. But now due to family dilemma we will have to take a wolf back in Sunday and try to introduce him to our girls. Obviously they can’t be left alone for any length of time and I will be going by myself.

So… I dunno. Hopefully this post will make some sort of sense and if all goes well, I will write up about the appointment.

This post was drafted from mobile device and is more than likely riddled with typos and grammatical errors. Please forgive and forget folks. If it is not too much of a bother, that is.

Attacks

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The idea of going to work for my first shift in months is terrifying me.

There’s shaking, my mind doing its fast blood/slow mind trip and just general all out attack.

I’m doing my best to just talk myself into feeling like I can do it.

Easy work, easy shift. It’ll be Sunday, so no UPS/Fed-Ex deliveries. But I am still terrified.

My mother is angry at me for reacting this way. She thinks I just don’t want to work. Every time I try explaining, “so you’re going to quit then?”

No.

At first I thought it was just Disney and that massive pile of bad experiences and environments but it has always been this way in any environment.

At first I am really happy for maybe a week or minimum a couple hours then quickly enough the shakes and crying begins.

I would constantly hear whispers, imagine looks being tossed my way and I would want to find a closet and hide. It is always a battle to work a shift anywhere doing anything from start to finish without catering to the idea of just walking out.

What do I do?

Even when I start to believe maybe I can work the shift tomorrow what about come Wednesday when the next schedule is posted? What if they are all front desk shifts? Terrified.

What I have done isn’t the mature or correct action when my mind starts racing and churning like this. Yet I keep hoping it will be done and gone quickly.

Is it even possible for there to be anxiety and fear like this because of..  Your job? I cannot live like this. Or survive or support myself like this. I don’t know what to do or who to turn to to fix this and make me better.

This post was drafted from mobile device and is more than likely riddled with typos and grammatical errors. Please forgive and forget folks. If it is not too much of a bother, that is.

Like Window Panes

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Back before the New Year, RL suggested her doctor to me.

Of the mental kind. And I thought about it, almost made an appointment. I chickened out quickly though. Another blogger here by the name of Artful Anxiety wrote a post called What Did I Expect detailing an attempt to express their difficulties.

I always felt the need to explain what I was feeling, what I was thinking, what was wrong with me and make them understand. But no one can, really. Especially if you barely do so yourself and a degree probably wouldn’t change that fact.

I was always such a supporter of the invisible disabilities of our guests at Disney because I could empathize. Many of my fellow cast members would become frustrated. Why should this guest get this privilege? What are they in a scooter? There’s nothing wrong with them!

How do you know? Just because it isn’t visibly obvious, you have no idea what they are going through or what their reasons are for any damn thing they do.

Since then I have started simply not telling anyone about my problems. Personally anyways. Y’all don’t count, no offense.

Anxiety, depression, ADD and ADHD are a game of quick draw nowadays. Everyone whips these out as excuses for whatever and what have you and they have lost their, “oh yeah, that explains it” factor.

Does this make any sense?

When I was telling people and trying so hard to find anyone, anyone at all, that understood, I was called a hypochondriac and straight out liar more times than I can count.

I guess maybe I am afraid that if I go to a “professional” I will hear that again and have it prescribed in writing.

When I woke up this morning on the little marker board my mother and I use for messages to each other was what she hoped to be an uplifting message.

“Go to work and prove them all wrong!”

It just made me angry.

Very angry.

“At the risk of diving into teenage angst – you cannot even begin to understand”.

We’re passive aggressive like that.

But I asked RL before I started writing this post for the contact information and will be making an appointment come Monday hopefully. And multiple schools.

I dunno. I’m just sick of trying to hold my head above the water simply because I won’t teach myself to swim. And you won’t catch me wear floaties.

This post was drafted from mobile device and is more than likely riddled with typos and grammatical errors. Please forgive and forget folks. If it is not too much of a bother, that is.

Wisdom Teeth

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There are nights when your thoughts become so dangerous and dark.

I learned last night, well it was confirmed that I can’t… Cry anymore. Even in my teens when I was a “warmed up zombie” I would cry. And cry a lot as teenaged girls do. Now, my eyes will water and my throat gets tight but a couple deep breaths and it is gone.

Should I be happy or scared about this? My hair trigger tears have always been a point of embarrassment for me and it seems I do not have to worry about that anymore. But does this mean I have progressed and matured or does it mean that I am back to Lara 1.0 but with minor upgrades?

Last weekend I actually found myself saying something I haven’t said since high school.

“I have no opinion or stance to make”

My fear of putting blood in the water, so to speak, has returned ten fold. There is always the burn of cross hairs somewhere on me at all times, waiting for a shot.

Yesterday was an interesting day. Man B from that Downtown Orlando bar texted me for the first time since that night last night. Reading that sentence back in my head sounds quite wrong, but deal with it. Anyways, we talked for quite a long time. Texted. And it was fun and nice but soon enough I started wondering what the heck I was doing.

I am barely capable of keeping speaking relationships with friends and family right now.

I barely leave my room. I’m terrified of the idea of a work environment.

Master of Memory Repression I may be, but I don’t know.

I just don’t know. My fingers are losing their grip of the slippery edge of sanity.

Things are so high and great for two seconds and then I remember who and what I am and I fall back down in the deep.  Yoga hasn’t been helping yet.

Oh, and my gum has split over the top of my wisdom teeth. It doesn’t hurt as much as it feels like I am constantly biting my cheek.

This post was drafted from mobile device and is more than likely riddled with typos and grammatical errors. Please forgive and forget folks. If it is not too much of a bother, that is.