Saturday, July 19, 2014

Nobody panic

So my family packed me off to a mental hospital under threat of being kicked out of the house. Then they kicked me out anyway. I have spent the last few weeks living out of hotels, and I'm running out of money.

I'm supposed to go get my stuff and my cat in the next few days, but I'm scared to deal with their shit. I have exceeded my capacity to tolerate drama without possibly losing my shit. I'm in the midwest for now. I've gone mostly off the grid. I changed my cell number, deactivated my facebook, and have been avoiding any way my crazy family can track me.

Once I get myself out of this temporary financial crisis, I can start a life that I live for myself and stop trying to make myself fit into a mold that my family tries to force me into.

I just want to paint and write and not panicking every time someone dreams up some imaginary crisis that makes me crazy.

So I'm okay. Nobody needs to panic. If I don't get to panic nobody else gets to. Thanks for the concern though, because in the last few weeks I've only gotten rage from my blood relatives.

Friday, December 6, 2013


Whelp...PTSD has ruined the best relationship I've ever had. Not to say I don't hold some responsibility for what happened, but...

So I went to Wyoming to visit my family, and my boyfriend broke up with me via video chat (my cell phone didn't good service here). He's sending my stuff to me via movers. Since I'm not able to take care of myself right now, my only choice was staying with my dad, stepmom and two sisters. They live in a 2.5 bedroom trailer with only 1 bathroom. So I displaced my teenage sister from her room, and she is mad because I took down her posters.

As of this moment, I have a week's worth of clothes, an insufficient supply of meds, my teddy bear, and my guitar. Most of the rest of my stuff has to go into storage. I don't even have a place to put my clothes, because the .5 bedroom I'm using doesn't have a closet and my sister's dresser won't fit into my other sister's room. We're discussing moving into a bigger place, but it's the holidays....

I popped the E string on my guitar and gave myself a panic attack. Ridiculous.

I didn't choose to have PTSD, panic disorder with agoraphobia, nightmare disorder, chronic depressive disorder or the other assorted fucked upedness that I have, and these things have destabilized my life yet again.

I'm so fucking tired.

My sisters are so worried that they'll upset me that they hide in their room whenever I'm in one of the common areas. It makes me feel so fucking horrible that I can't even describe it. I'm 1000 miles away from the home I had last month, separated from my dog and my cats. I have almost nothing tangible of my own. My dad and mom are trying their best to make me feel better, and so I try to be positive when I can manage it and the rest of the time I'm just quiet.

They don't know how to deal with me. They love me and they try and I'm grateful, but I'm so lost most of the time that I don't know what to do.

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

My own special kind of crazy

Back from residential treatment program. I survived it. Some random crazy person showed up on the VA campus with a gun and tried to kidnap my room mate. I threw stress balls at my therapist. I taught the basics of watercolors during recreational therapy.

Therapist had me try to start doing Prolonged Exposure Therapy, the kind where I write in graphic and excruciating detail about the rapes. Didn't work out so well. I wasn't able to finish that treatment and I'm still suffering from the backlash of the extreme stress that put on me emotionally.

I'm tired. Other events that are happening make me feel like my life is cascading out of control. I tend to start crying for no reason and then am unable to stop. I don't sleep when I'm supposed to, I stay awake as long as I can and then I crash hard and fast.

I physically hurt from the constant tension and anxiety that I'm under. My shoulders and neck and jaw tighten up so badly that I'm like a giant bruise.

The value of escapism can not be overstated here.

Thursday, September 19, 2013

I don't want to!

I'm in full on rebellion right now. I didn't get out of bed yesterday. I don't want to get out of bed today. I'm supposed to be packing to go to the PTSD residential treatment program. I don't want to go. I have mentally thrown myself on the ground and am kicking and screaming, like a badly behaved toddler at a grocery store.

I know it's childish. I don't care. I'm terrified.

Monday, September 16, 2013

Fragile truce

I have managed to find a little mellow for the moment. Learning to play the guitar, and I find that mindless repetitive fingering exercises are calming.

I'm not thinking about tomorrow, because today is more than enough. I'm going to hold on to this tenuous peace for as long as it lasts.

I've been relying heavily on my medication to manage break through anxiety. It's been really tough. It's like unravelling at the edges.

While I appreciate words of encouragement and support, I would caution readers not to expect much by way of a response from me. When I write here, it is usually because I am going through extreme emotional turmoil. I write this for me first, to help me sort through the kaleidoscope of trauma that I deal with on a daily basis.

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Long night

Can't sleep. Crying myself sick all night. I feel like I'm stuck in a situation I can't get out of. Therapy and medication is like slapping a band aid on a broken leg. I need a more permanent solution. Like maybe a lobotomy?

I want to run away to somewhere they don't speak English so I can be truly and deeply alone, because being around people and still being alone is fucking depressing. I'm angry depressed tonight.

I took my calm down medication like a good little soldier, but I'm still all twisted tonight. I don't think I'm going to get any really productive thinking done tonight either.

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Patently obvious cry for attention...

Let me count the crazy....shaved part of my head. Didn't do it myself, went to a salon so I could pretend it wasn't a desperate cry for help. Beat the crap out of my punching bag (literal punching bag), and it kept me from crying but now my knuckles are bloody. Small price to pay really.

Having all sorts of crazy and scary thoughts, don't worry, there's no need to call 911.

-I'm losing valuable time experiencing all the things I always wanted to experience, because I'm trapped in agoraphobic hell. When do I get to do, what I want to do?

I don't want to take medication anymore! Like right now! I should be taking a calm down pill and practicing breathing and instead I'm mid panic attack ranting on my blog. Oh shit, I've obviously died and gone to hell and become a teenager again, because that is some stupid rebellious bullshit. Please, let me defy all common sense while shaking my fist futilely at the sky! I don't want to have PTSD, AGORAPHOBIA, PANIC DISORDER, CHRONIC DEPRESSIVE DISORDER, INSOMNIA, AND ALL THE REST OF THIS SHIT ANYMORE! I don't want it, can it please be someone else's turn for a little while?