Not Just Your Garden-Variety Neurotic Smartass.

Fuckbrain Should Be In the Dictionary.

My psych meds have ceased to do their respective jobs entirely, so I’ve been something of a hot mess – going to bed at five PM, eating either too much or not at all, crying inconsolably – the usual depressive bullshit.

Yesterday I lost it entirely. I had a bad panic attack and was slamming my headboard with the flat of my hand (not wise – it still hurts) and screaming at the cats to “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM!”

I’m generally not a raging psycho, so this was certainly abnormal behavior. Afterwards I sobbed for hours and finally fell asleep at about five PM. My daughter took off to her boyfriend’s for the night, probably terrified of Crazy Mom.

Naturally I feel awful. I sent her a long apologetic text this morning, but I received no reply. She’s probably still asleep, or just still pissed.

The cats have forgiven me, since I feed them, scoop their litter, and give them toys. Simple. I wish my daughter was that simple.

I had a long talk with a friend that goes through similar issues early this morning. She gave me tremendously good advice. She told me to get a notepad and make lists – little things I am capable of accomplishing through the day and the week.

We made plans to go downtown on Sunday and help some people clean up a vacant lot so that it can eventually be a place for children to play. I need to do more things like that. Community service. Helping others and staying out of my own fucked-up head. I’m really excited about it.

I’m also going to attempt to bump up my shrink appointment and also, at the advice of both of my friend and my daughter, get a new therapist. I was getting nowhere with my old one.

All of these things give me hope. Even though my financial situation is absolute garbage and I’m stressed out to the gills, depressed, and anxious; my family and friends continue to support me and are there with far more love than I could ever hope for.

I’m so thankful.


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