My Will Is Broken

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I am just at the point where I can’t do this anymore. The pills aren’t doing anything. I feel like nothing I say can truly convey the pain and what the voices are saying.

I am at the point where I don’t want to try anymore. I want to give up and not have this icy ball of pain and snot in me anymore. I am done waking up every day realizing that this is my life and there is no way out.

What brought this on? Amongst how horrible these last few weeks have been, tonight my mother informed me of how disappointed she was. How selfish I am. How I have no chance of becoming what she wanted me to be.

If there was a truly easy way to be done with this, I would go down that road in a heartbeat.

Today with the therapist we were talking about friends and everyone I listed got the ‘that’s no good for you’ mark. Well, guess I am just not supposed to have friends. It isn’t like this is kindergarten anymore where you can offer a crayon and say, “what’s your name? Wanna play?”

Why can’t I have one little easy answer to one, just one of my problems?

I came this close to crying in front of my dad. I barely managed to excuse myself from his room and the tears and sobs began.

Crying in front of a doctor is one thing.

But my family?

It is just something I never do or want to do.

Why can’t I be a better person? Why can’t I become part of something and make friends? Why can’t I trust anyone to actually want to be my friend and not want me for my car or Disney access.

My will is broken.

Posted from WordPress for Android. As much as I try to proof read, typos and grammatical errors will more than likely occur and I hope you can graciously forgive them and me.

The Greatest Weapon

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My mind is my greatest weapon. It is very effective and powerful. However, I am also its most frequent victim.

Within the last three days, I have begun spiraling down further and further into an angry depression. Against better judgement, I have resorted to taking the Trazodone and Klonopin. My emotions are all over the place, my agitation and stress are at an all time high.

My phone has spent most of the last two days on Airplane mode. I do not have the energy or patience for respect to participate or even witness conversation. Facebook has become an enemy. Constant are the thoughts go ahead and outright delete it rather than just deactivate it this time.

In an attempt to reach out for help, for friendship, I posted a status saying “I really, really need a day out and distraction. My mind is on a warpath.”

Nothing.  Five hours later, nothing.

It just made me worse.

These feelings of in/voluntary isolation and almost neglect are ever surmounting. Leads to feelings of failure, worthlessness and why am I even here? Why am I seeing all these doctors, taking all these pills if I still feel as bad if not worse?

What am I doing?

I am so lost.

In The Deep Dark Corners

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Recap: currently on Lamictal 100 mg nightly and 10 mg Buspar twice a day.

The Lamictal is supposed to help stabilize my moods and the Buspar is supposed to help with my anxiety.

Well… It seems neither is working. The Buspar was but now? Yesterday was a nightmare. I couldn’t stand up, and the chest pains and tears were on the attack.

Have you ever had a panic attack, without having an actual panic attack? All the symptoms, but none of the panic-y thoughts or rush?

That is what this felt like. Some people say when you feel nauseated, just go ahead and vomit. Get it out of your system, you will feel so much better. This is why I actually yearned for the panic attack. I just wanted the itching anxiety to be gone.

Yesterday was the worst day I have experienced in a long time. Started off with the issues of not being able to stand up, then the hard decision of asking my mom to drive me to my appointment with my therapist, thus having to call in to work. My therapist just had two surgeries and yet here I am calling in for panic attacks and dizziness. Cue feelings of guilt and failure.

My mother suddenly became angry and cursing and I knew I would not be able to sit in the truck for the drive there then her increased attitude after waiting an hour for the drive home.

So, I got in my car and drove away. On the way there, I was nearly rear ended, T-boned, nearly rear ended people myself after people would cut me off. I am not a reckless driver. My dad drove NASCAR and my brother street raced. I, on the other hand, am a defensive driver. I keep space between me and the car ahead of me. I don’t bumper hump, and I always use my turn signal. My mother already lost one child to a car accident.

I finally make it to the office of my therapist. I’m stressed out, feeling guilty, and irritable as it is. So it does not help when someone has taken the chair I always sit in (not like it has my name on it, but I was grouchy). And talking loudly on their phone.

Not even five minutes in to my appointment, I am crying and cannot even look at her. I could not properly explain to her how even though I know the majority of my thoughts and feelings were irrational, I could not stop them. Distract my mind and think of something else, anything else.

She suggested as with another patient that it helped was, “go the phuck to Hell.”

As with many suggestions from anyone, it has been tried and failed. But I still continue to try.

I hadn’t even been able to get into what was happening with my day, I just told her the symptoms I was experiencing.

At one point she asked me how I survived before medication if this is how I was on medication and experiencing these thoughts.

She, like before and my Disney Cigna Advocate, suggested I call the office of my psychiatrist and express these thoughts about the medication so the adjustments can be made. But I cannot express my reluctance to reaching out to them out of hours. After what happened with the Dok-Tore, I get very stressed out at the thought.

Speaking of the Dok-Tore, I did the math and seeing him for five, just five visits is costing over a thousand dollars, after my insurance does their magic.

After leaving my therapist, I stop by the Wawa on the corner for gas and after pumping, I sit in my car to shoot a text to my father. I look up and see a car awkwardly trying to pull in towards me at the pump in front. She then proceeds to honk and yell at me. There is a minivan that was waiting behind me. But the pumps on EITHER SIDE of the aisle I was in were open and free.

My therapist keeps telling me I need to get out of the country and get in the real world. Well if the ‘real word’ is filled with people this rude and impatient? No thank you. I want nothing to so with it. All it does is make me want to stay home even more.

When I went to pay the toll to get on the Turnpike, the older gentleman taking my five to five me change says, “Smile! It can’t be that bad of a day!”

“You have no idea. But thank you. You have a good one!”

I immediately burst into tears after I pulled away. On the way home same as the way in, I was constantly being cut off and nearly being. Two of the people that cut me off, I ended up spotting them pulled over on the side of the road. Sweet justice.

Once I got home I noticed trash bags sitting outside our front door along the pathway.

It only meant one thing.

“She didn’t do what I think she did.”

She did. She had gone into my room.

Growing up, we were never given a sense of privacy.

My room is the only place I have where I have some semblance of safety from my thoughts and paranoia.

“You knew what kind of a day I would have.”

“I am sorry being the shithead I was to help clean.”

“No, you were a shit head for invading my space. My one place and you know how I feel about that.”

I took a bunch of Trazodone I had left over from the Dok-Tore era and passed out.

I woke up around eight in the morning with thoughts about getting a reprimand for calling in yesterday. Worries about yesterday. Basically a repeat of yesterday, but ten fold.

Around ten in the morning my mother called apparently about to buy a water resistant housing for my camera at a garage sale. She asked for the kind of camera and the guy is going on “it will fit any Canon!”

Yes. Because I will risk my $600 dollar camera with a second hand “water resistant housing”.

I didn’t say anything and just let her think she was doing something nice.

And here I am. I had started to write this down but my typos and messy handwriting was beginning to anger me further.

I am having thoughts of again deleting my Facebook and leaving the social atmosphere once more.

We Have An Escapee On Our Hands

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Remember the dog I saved? We picked her up Wednesday!

It turns our her name is actually Kimber, not Timber but he said it was close it enough that it should be okay. So we kept it at Timber. It is sentimental since our very first wolf, Max, was a Timber wolf.

Back to photos of photos

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We learned that she is just over a year old and is part Husky, and part Great Pyrenees.

Now my family knows all about Huskies, Malamutes, wolves, and Pit Bulls. But never had we had a Great Pyrenees.

And y’all, I think I have a new favorite breed.

The previous family said she didn’t know any tricks or have any training beyond being house trained and it only took her an hour and a half to learn ‘sit’ and ‘stay’.

I ended up staying with her in her little area the entire day and night last night reading and playing Sudoku in one if the many Sudoku books we have.

Anytime I would leave my heart would break with the sound of her cries and scratching.

Timber, baby, I am sorry but I have to go to the bathroom!

After I got from a grocery run to Publix, I decided to let her downstairs with me if I blocked off upstairs while I cooked to ease her anxiety and allow her to smell the girls’ scent and place her own.

We plan to do a formal introduction Saturday but things… Kinda didn’t go according to plan.

But…

That went way better than planned. And Timber is a little escape artist. We have been slowing introducing her to the house and letting her get her set around for the dogs to scent. We have a partial pen with half the back yard connected to the laundry for her for now that is against Jelly and Angel’s pen. So she has been in the laundry room with the back door open with access to that second pen and the downstairs and the rest of the house for JB and Angel. Slowly move her to the downstairs part of the house with upstairs blocked off between the two of them while I cooked to stay with her. Finish cooking. Move her back to her first area and I sit down to eat. Half way into Modern Family. A bit white mass comes racing into the living room and jumps onto JB’s chair (directly next to where I was). Oh Jeeze. Let the circus begin. We have an escapee.

My Psychologist Gave Me A Homework Assignment

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And I don’t think I can do this one.

“Lara, before I see you next week, I want you to involve yourself in some kind of group setting. Photography class, yoga, or Tai Chi. I don’t really care as long as it is something that gets you out of your house and with people.”

Well. All these things cost money. And frankly I am kinda terrified. I don’t do well in groups or social setting. I am not a social person.
What am I supposed to do?

On the money front, I am down to one bra that is two years old and cannot afford to get a new one. You can’t find 32C (or what I should be wearing a 30D) anywhere unless it is Victoria Secret and we all know how expensive they are.

So how am I to afford yoga classes? How can I justify paying for a membership any where for anything if I cannot even find room in my budget for something that is a necessity like a bra? I am paying to see all these doctors, all these medications plus the extreme price tag of gas and tolls to travel to these doctors.

I am at a crossroads and unsure of where to step next.

Work has been pretty iffy. Some days I am great, then other days where I crash and burn into raspberry jam on the freeway.

I am back to not sleeping again. The medications don’t even make me drowsy.

Just, I could really use some help and advice right now.

I Saved A Life

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Five minutes from home I almost rear end the guy in front of me when he almost hits a dog that is running in the middle of the highway. This is a large, all white dog and after averting her first near death experience she just keeps going down the middle of the road.

I am an impulsive person by nature. Usually when I see a dog along the road I say a little prayer and hope they find their way home safely, but this time without thinking I pull on the side of the road she was on and got out my car.

She immediately runs to me and her tail is going and she is howling and crying.

It took nothing to coax her into my car after not finding any tags (I had my phone in my hand to call, if I found any).

I drove home with this big puppy, and had my parents meet me outside with one of our old horse leads. My dad and I got in the car. I had a dog in the car but he was the one growling. He was NOT happy. We drove back to the nursery I picked her up in front of but they had just closes twenty minutes prior. So we turned around and went back home.

On the way back, she tries her hardest to climb onto my lap as I am driving.

Mom and Dad swapped places and we were going to go door to door at the neighborhood across from the nursery. Right before I went to make the turn, Mom noticed a fire burning in a yard so we pull in and a dog comes running to my car and starts barking at the stray I picked up.

We had found the family on the first go around. My mom starts explain how we found her and before she even finishes talking, he offers us the dog.

“Seriously. For free. She needs a fenced in yard.”

WE HAVE A FENCED IN YARD.

“But she is also an inside dog.”

SO ARE OUR OTHER TWO.

“She likes you!”

That she does. Well sir, here is my number, we will be leaving to bribe my father with good and we will call you if we can take her.

And we so will.

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.