Sunday, March 10, 2013

Relatively Screwed

Today was it. I hit my limit and almost wound up in shackles for it. It's been coming, and as hard as I tried to ignore it, and deny it, my Bi-Polar has been affecting me and those around me in the not so awesome ways for quite a while. I've said it before and I'm sure to say it again and again, I am not the best when it comes to empathy, or feeling for others, why? I don't know, I often say it's simply that I don't fucking care. But I'm starting to think that it may be just the opposite... I apologize in advance if this whole thing seems odd, but I think I'm in the process of transitioning between Manic and Depressive. So bare with me... Or don't the choice is yours...
For the last couple of years I have been trying to pull myself together, I'm not exactly sure when I fell apart, there is no moment that defines my downward spiral. No, "that's what did it!" So there is no real object to focus on, even if I could actually focus. I started out with one therapist, and during the course of that year, every week it seemed that something was going wrong. Be it fight with the old lady, or my dad ending up hospitalized for a slew of different reasons, pneumonia in the middle of the Summer, an infection from faulty surgery that nearly killed him, and landed him a month in the hospital followed by 6 weeks of daily I.V. Antibiotics, an "accidental" O.D. and even 2 more bouts of Lung Cancer, which he has beaten, for a total of three dances with that reaper in which he won out each time. Stress on top of Stress, compounded by my illness, and that of my mom. I swear between the three of us, if you used just the "healthy parts" you'd still have an unhealthy person, with not so much as a leg to stand on. So it's been continuously frustrating, to deal with my own treatment plans when there is always one disaster or another affecting the household.

I can't work due to my physical and mental issues, so I have had no choice but to rely on the state just so I can gain care, and have money. HAHAHA! Apparently the state of Connecticut, one of the most expensive states to live in believes that a single person with no children can live on 412.00 a month. YES a MONTH! That is supposed to pay for food, shelter and those things which make a shelter a home. Like lights and heat. If I wasn't the "person under the stairs" there is no way I could have survived this long. Yeah, I'm the fucked up cliche, 31 and still home with mom and dad, no job and no life. Maybe if I had gotten my self knocked up i could have trapped some shmuck into taking acre of me or at least managed to get some more help from the state, but seriously... I HATE KIDS! So why the fuck would I do something as stupid as reproduce?? 
Let me rephrase that, I HATE MOST KIDS.. There are a few kids that I actually like... Three to be precise, the daughters and son of a fair weather friend. I seem them once or twice every couple of years, and they are great kids. And I really rather like their mom. LOL. But we don't have much in common, and fall in and out of touch often. But as a whole I think children are loud, unintelligent and incapable of listening. So in other words they are just like their parents. 

See I keep people away because what the hell am I gonna do with um any how. 

I have one friend, and often feel as if the only reason we are friends is because it's either tolerate me and live in CT, or go to VA. I'm sure that it's not true, but it is how I feel. I don't feel much, just anger, resentment and a complete lack of validity.

Yeah, yeah, I hear the sneers now, "suck it up and get a job, stop complaining and bitching oh woe is me I have it so-- hard. I live virtually rent free, don't have to worry about kids, or a husband, or anything stressful.

I'll trade you, in a heart beat. Come here, live with my family for a month or two, and I guarantee you'll want your life back. I live in a house where everyone wants to be the Alpha, and no one wants to admit it. I feel as though I am a contestant on "Whose the sicker person." Were all fucked up in our own ways, but my parents are 71 and 60, they should be starting to fall apart! 

I'm not even in the middle of my life and have the ailments of the two of them. I wish I could go up or down a flight of stairs without pain, or chewing a stick of gum without getting a 72 hour migraine. (Fucking TMJ). 

Then there's the Borderline personality which gives me the really fun stuff... Frequent issues with anger, wildly sweeping moods, self destructive behaviors, and a serious lack of impulse control. The kicker of this one, that I'm acutely aware of these self destructing behaviors, but there is an uncontrollable feeling of being unable to change them. Thus causing the break down of relationships, regardless of the want of said relationships.

Oh and I have HUGE BOUNDARY ISSUES!! Obviously...

So all of this Crazy, has been building up for sometime, and this past year I had a falling out with a person who was supposed to be helping me. A health care professional with whom the line was crossed, we had more in common than not, and we became better friends that I'd like to admit. No.. not like that! She was kind to me when others were not, and understanding of the entanglement of my home situation and how it affected all parts of my life from professional to social. Then I had a little breakdown and when I needed her most she released me from care. To say that I felt betrayed would be a gross understatement.

There went that small support system, leaving me with no one else but my "new" Therapist. Don't get me wrong, I love the little flamer, but it had taken me a long time to come to terms with the fact that while I pride myself on being open minded, when it comes to how I am treated by others I am really very "black and white" the smallest misstep by someone I trust will shatter that trust, and while I can appear to forgive, I never truly can. It's not that I don't want too, I just can not do it. I take what people say at face value, and if I am told that  something is done, or is going to be done, well I expect it to be so.

In my mind that seems completely reasonable. But then again, I am not exactly possessor of the most sound of minds. I'm beginning to try to accept that about myself, but those closest to me are far from understanding it, while I should not fault them for not knowing how to handle me, since I don't really know how, I can not help but feel that they should understand.

That as my family, they should roll with it, and that by now they should know what upsets me and what does not. What they can and can not say to me, and when it's a good time to talk to me and when it is not...

Which finally brings me to today, oh... Sunday, how you once nurtured me after such drunken debauchery, in my younger days! How I miss those follies and joyous romps. Anyhow, my Friday was a snow shovel day, so when I was awoken by the screams of the woman upstairs on Saturday morning, I was already sore, my back, feet and legs not happy from the day before. I fell out of bed and was bumrushed to get dressed to do some grocery shopping. As i sat down to put on my socks and shoes she shoves a magazine in my face oh so delicately, saying "I know you like to get me jewelry for Mother's Day, look at this... Blah, blah.." 
(Understand that I found out just last week that I was approved for my SSI benefits and have a wee sum coming that I have already spent on home improvements, ie getting walls put up in my dungeon dwelling, renting a dumpster and potentially putting in a storage shed.)

The happiness of the occasion destroyed by her "I want this and that" Said jestfully, but actually meant on some levels. You know mothers... They "suggest" what they expect. So my mood over the money was not as enthusiastic outwardly to the family, although I cried my eyes out in relief to my therapist, after an exceedingly manic display to my Bipolar group before hand. <- Being the first real sign that I was headed for trouble in the near future. 

Back to the magazine, I go through it, and everything is plated and fake. I only buy real for her. IE: Actual Diamonds, Gemstones and Sterling Silver. Why am I going to do anything less? I say as much to her, and she gets mad. I should have gone back to bed, but no, I go shopping with her, we go to the BJ's wholesale and she runs me around the place, it's crowded and the lines are long, and standing in one place is making me more and more miserable. Finally they open another register, but we don't notice so we stay in place, but the fella working the one we're at is running his mouth at the girl across from him. Mom tells me that he better pay attention to the packing of the cart and if her doesn't I should say something... I remind her that according to "b" my one friend that I am in cunt mode, as shown by my honest reply to a person on Facebook, that was apparently rather harsh. I've been off of my medication for a little over a month due to not being able to get an appointment to get a refill, <- whole other rant!) and it is obviously affecting my judgement and my bitch filter. I was rather loose with the language, but she actually encouraged me to be a bitch is needed... Then she goes on about a magazine with a picture of the actress from "Breakfast at Tiffany's" Audrey Hepburn? I think talking about how beautiful she was, and i did not agree with her, so she got pissy. 

Uggh, I am sorry I don't think she was attractive. We ge tout of there and now it's off to Big Y, and another round of "let's go up and down every isle, and disappear on Shannon so she has to look all  over for mom." 

I'm tired, I'm achey and I'm beyond annoyed, and it's showing in my every movement, word and look. This is not an isolated event, I get like this ALL THE TIME, and yet she is surprised. 

We get out to the car and as I'm bagging everything from BJ's she realizes that she didn't get her second Gold coin, so I tell her I'll go, you finish up here.

I run in, get the stupid fucking coin. (If they weren't so hard to come by I wouldn't have bothered, but they are so I did.) I come back out and she's just tossed everything in to the trunk. 

I bitch, she moans, the usual. Now Off to fuckin' Walmart. We argue the whole way, about my attitude, she tell  me to get the fuck out, that she doesn't need me.. Blah, Blah, the same bullshit as usual. The shit that shouldn't bother me anymore but still does. 

She goes in to the store without me, cuz there was no fucking way I was going in there, not in my tearful and pissed off state. Al of the screaming causing my jaw to tense up and start me for a fun filled migraine. 

I chill out in the car to some extent, and we head home. FINALLY!! I lug stuff in to the house and on my way out for the second round of stuff, I notice the mail, in it is a letter from the state, I figure it's just about the approval of my benefits, but stop to check it out anyhow. Only to read that since I was approved for SSI, they were terminating my MEDICAL. The only medical I have. I freaked out, all i kept thinking about was my medications, my therapy, the doctors I desperately still needed to see, that I was going to have to start another fight with the state. i wen tout got the second round of stuff and then proceeded to have a panic attack.

THIS IS EXACTLY THE MOMENT when people should NOT TALK TO ME! I am agitated, irrational, and not breathing. She decides to yell at me about it all and I cracked. The screaming and yelling began. Lots of swearing, I hate you's and all the shit that gets flung when you have other underlying issues that one (me) are attributing to all of the other bullshit going on with the idea that the minuscule help I am receiving is about to go fucking *poof.* I tried to walk away... I really did, I was going to come downstairs and pull my self together, but she wouldn't let up.

I started throwing shit at the floor.. Not at HER, at the floor right in front of me an entire room away. All I wanted was for her to shut the fuck up and leave me the fuck alone. I was angry, scared, panicking... She called 911. 

Told them to come and get me, so I went out to meet them.

Sat down and lit a cigarette,  to find that I had cut open my finger at some point, damn kitchen utensils. So now the cop shows up, I tell him what happened, I'm still all hyperventilating and shit, he sees the blood, i tell him I did it throwing stuff, he tells me I'm going to be arrested for domestic assault. I put out my writs and tell him to take me then. He asks if I have somewhere to go, I tell him now and get all upset again. He tells me to take a walk, repeatedly. Where the fuck did he expect me to go?

He was going to go into the house, but the cop's allergic to cats, so that idea was gone, and she had to come outside to talk to him, he tells me to go for a walk, I tell him I can't, my fucking knees were not going to oblige his request. He didn't like that, too fucking bad. I walked next door and sat on the wall.

The second cop shows after a time of talking to the old woman, they decide that she's crazier than me. But we knew this already. (I disclosed my unmediated condition, and her medicated condition previously) They were in fact not going to arrest me, but wanted me to go somewhere for the night. For everyone's benefit, I explained again that there was no where for me to go. But that I could avoid her. So they suggested that after I refused to go to the hospital. 

They stayed talking to each other long enough fro me to change my mind, deciding that I couldn't wait until Monday to talk to someone, that if I went into that house at that moment, that it wound not be a good thing. They called the ambulance to get me, and the 1st responding cop headed off my mother, and the second came over to check on me. I fell apart again, because I spoke about feeling unappreciated.

And his words to me were to the affect that it is hard when you do not get the validation and support of those who are supposed to care about you, that my feelings of panic and worry were valid. I know they have some training with dealing with us crazies, but it was the delivery, here he was some stranger, who had never lain eyes on me before, and yet he knew exactly what line of bullshit I needed to hear, but my own mother, the woman who has shared a home with me for 31 years was incapable of that. 
I took the ride to the hospital, in the ambulance once they found my pulse, they took my blood pressure and as upset as I seemed, it was barely elevated, to the EMT's surprise. And that was after screaming, bleeding, hyperventilation, sobbing uncontrollably and chain smoking 4 ciggs in 20 mins! 
Apparently I really have a heart of stone, as the normal heart rate is 60-80 bpm, and through all this I only hit 100, which is lower than that of 15 min intense jog. So I'm a metronome. 
I put up with the garbage at the hospital, got pissy with a few idiots and in the end was sent home with a 10 day Rx of my much needed medication. She came and got me, and was all nice, but that lasted about 15 mins, so I got my Rx, came home and planned on going to bed. I tried, but the need to get this out of me, overwhelmed me, and here I am at 3 AM, still awake, still crying intermittently and  honestly I don't know if I am any better for it. 

What do I expect from all of this? I don't know, I know I'm not the only one who goes through this,  I know that being Bipolar, I will go through it and similar for the rest of my life, and I will write in these manic states again and again. I guess it is a reminder to those who are or have someone in their life who is afflicted by this or any other mental disease or defect, that  sometimes... 

A few kind words, or no words at all, was or is all that stands between falling apart and keeping it together. 

That it is okay to do either, and that when push comes to shove, sometimes you have to shove back.