Tag Archives: Anxiety

TWISTED MEMORIES AND MAYBE MOVING ON

It’s a horrible thing not to remember events in your own life. I often have to call my best friend and ask her if I’ve met someone before or been somewhere before or if I’m still allowed certain places. I can’t ask her about family stuff because she wasn’t there.

My Dad and I have been fighting about the TV a lot because he won’t take the time to learn how to use it. He’s 74 and stubborn. He couldn’t find the right weather channel and flipped out. He threw the remote at me and said “Get this shit off here!”. I picked up the remote, placed it next to him, sat back down and said “Do it yourself”. He didn’t like that and jumped up from his seat coming towards me with his hand raised. I put my foot up and stopped him fast.

When I told my sister about it she said “I don’t know why you’re surprised. He used to beat Mom all the time when we were little.” I was stunned. I don’t remember this at all. I remember one night they were both drunk and yelling at each other. My Mom was pushing my Dad and wouldn’t stop. He did slap her. He admits this and more than made up for it over the years. He actually quit drinking cold turkey the next day and has been sober for 37 years.

I called my Mom’s sister. I’m very close to her and I know she would tell me the truth. She was not happy with my sister. She said my version was correct. I said “Auntie, my Mom would’ve went to one of your brothers or killed him herself. She didn’t take crap from anyone. Or am I wrong about that?”. She laughed and told me I wasn’t wrong at all.

We also talked about the possibility of me going down to Naples, Florida and finding a monthly or yearly rental. She isn’t happy living with her son. She’s past retirement age and still working full time, doing everyone’s laundry, all the shopping and the cooking. She’s also the free babysitter. She’s like my Mom was, doesn’t know how to say no to her kids. I want to help her. I love the area of Florida she lives in. I don’t want her to pay as much as she is at her son’s house I want her to be able to have a place to live and not work full time. I love her so much and I’m happy around her and even when I’m alone down there.

The problem is the guilt I feel thinking about leaving my Dad alone. Our relationship isn’t healthy. I can’t get up in the middle of the night without him yelling. I can’t get up too early without him yelling. I can’t change anything in the house. If I go to a store and lose track of time and it starts to get dark outside he starts throwing up. NINE AND A HALF YEARS without drinking or getting into trouble or really doing anything. I’m 45 and single. The car I bought still doesn’t have 35,000 miles on it. I bought it 6 months ago with 34,600 miles on it. I’m rotting away. This isn’t living.

I love my Dad and all I can think about is “What if something happens to him if I leave?” My twin lives 10 minutes away but I know she won’t check on him.

I have a lot to think about.

Rhode Island to Florida isn’t that far, is it?

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DAVE NAVARRO’S JEWELRY LEADS TO FANFICTION & NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTIONS

After watching a video of Dave Navarro on YouTube recently I was curious about the necklace he was wearing. I found the information once then couldn’t find it again. What I did find was an odd piece of FanFiction written about him. At least I hope it was Fiction.

The story was about an Ink Master contestant who starts dating Mr. Navarro while filming. They fall in love, the romance is detailed from her point of view and supposedly his. She also becomes pregnant with twins. It was over romanticized and I have to say I felt uncomfortable reading it. The kind of uncomfortable where you know something is wrong in the pit of your stomach but you’re not sure what it is.

If it was Fiction or not if I was Dave Navarro I would’ve been uncomfortable reading it and wouldn’t want it out there for everyone to read. The way it’s written does make you question if it’s real or not. I’m pretty sure it isn’t real but like I said uncomfortable.

Anyway Mr. Navarro has inspired me to start making jewelry again but in a different direction. I want to try some new things and work with different gemstones and techniques.

This brings me to my New Year’s resolutions. I don’t know what the new year will bring for me health wise. Right now I’m not doing so great. Having 1 kidney is a bitch. Having various mental health issues isn’t fun either.

I want to try to be positive for a change. I know I’m not a positive person. I also know that I need to find a way to deal with my grief and anger. I’ve lived with both for far too long and it’s consuming me. Fear is also a big challenge. It’s going to be hard and I’m not sure if I can do it but I refuse to die alone in this house.

I want to have a jewelry booth this year. There are always a ton of Art Fairs where I live or other venues for people to showcase what they have made. I say I’m going to do this every year and I chicken out every year. This year I’m going to make myself do it. I hope.

I also need to repair my relationship with my twin sister. I don’t care what I have to do she’s my twin. She is right about many things. She’s also wrong about many things and I’ll have to get over that.

I’d like to get a passport this year just in case I can travel. I would like to see my Auntie Lee one more time in Florida too. She’s getting older and I’m getting sicker so I feel the need to see her.

I have to take better care of Dutchie. He’s gained weight and he panics too much when you try to touch his feet. I need spend more time training him.

I really want to volunteer at an animal shelter. I’d love to help out with exotics and wildlife because I know a lot about them but I’ll go where I’m needed most or where they will take me. Some places are very picky and do background checks even to volunteer.

I’m not a fan of background checks. I’m not a hardened criminal but my record isn’t clean either. I was told the incidences on there would be expunged but they were not. So there’s a DUI that shows up that I was never charged with, a drunk and disorderly, and a domestic dispute with a drunk and disorderly and resisting arrest. These were all from my twenties I’ll be 45 in January. Do restraining orders show up? Because that’s there from my twenties it goes with the domestic. I’m not making excuses I’m explaining that after a man beat me unconscious I went back a year later and took out his windshield, windows and headlights with a hard object. He pressed charges and got the restraining order even though he admitted to “beating me like Mike Tyson” to a room full of people and laughing about it.

Sorry, I got off track. It does tie into the anger and fear. I’m also unable to be around men very much without feeling immense fear. It’s worse if they have deep voices or seem aggressive. Then I start to shake and stutter. One of the many reasons I stay home.

So things have to change. This is the year to do it. I’m not getting any younger or healthier. It’s time to get out there.


GRIEF ISN’T SOMETHING I’M ABLE DO

I went to the grocery store yesterday because I was forced to. I went to one I don’t usually go to but my Dad likes. I walked in and saw a very thin, frail looking man, hunched over his carriage. I knew he looked familiar but he looked so old and sick I thought it couldn’t be him, it couldn’t be my Dad.

It was. I couldn’t move, I felt the numbing heat that starts in my legs and travels to my head. I knew the shaking/tremors were going to start, I didn’t know I already had tears on my face. I was stuck where I was standing and staring at him. I felt such fear and anger. Anger because he doesn’t listen to his Doctors or anyone else, anger because my twin sister has once again left me to watch our remaining parent die or kill themselves slowly because they’ve given up.

I’ve left her so many texts it’s like I’m a stalker. She hasn’t responded. I left a voicemail and she hasn’t responded. She thinks I’m too dramatic. I’m getting upset over nothing. My Dad’s Nephrologist told him he has less than 4 years and he’s being very optimistic with that estimate.

I told my Dad last night that I don’t want my name on the house or anything. I refuse to be here when my sister and her husband show up and start criticizing the house and yard. I know exactly how it will go. “How could you let it get this bad? How could you let him keep all these birds? How could you let him keep all the clocks? Why wasn’t the floor redone? How could you let him plant more flowers? Why didn’t you have those trees removed?”. I’m not going to listen to it when they weren’t here for any of it.

The didn’t offer to help with anything or come to visit. If my Dad wants to see his grandchildren he has to try to contact my sister and arrange a meeting. Meanwhile I’m a prisoner in this house of antiques and dirt. A prisoner of my own guilt and shame for the things I’ve done in the past that hurt my parents. There’s no way I can ever make up for the things that I’ve done or said.

Is there a time where I say enough is enough? Where I do something I want to do like an adult? Make a decision like an adult? If I turn out to be wrong I take responsibility and try to correct the wrong. Simple things like driving a long distance should not make my Dad angry or worry so much that he’s dry heaving. I might only have a few more years left than he does I think it’s okay to take a road trip or stay out past dark.

I know most of this is my fault because I never really moved out on my own. I knew in the back of my mind that I wouldn’t make it living on my own years ago. I’m a different person now. I still need to do a lot of work and I’m not 100% sure about being on my own but I would like to have the choice. I won’t abandon my Dad. This isn’t in my nature to do.

When I think of the man who taught me to swim, who could swim like a fish himself, who loved the water and looked like he was born from the sea, I smile.

When I think of the man who taught me drive with patience and enough trust to let me drive him over a large bridge in the pouring rain, I smile.

When I think of the man who saved every little animal I brought to him without hesitation, I smile.

When I think of the man who sat by my side night after night watching movies and TV he wasn’t interested in just to keep me company so I wouldn’t feel alone, I smile.

When I think of the man who saved me dying, I shut down and cry.

My mom passed away nine years ago and I still have not come to terms with it. Her death haunts me almost daily. Maybe it was because I watched her die I don’t know.

There are still some of my pets that have died that I have a hard time with when I think about them or something triggers a memory. I know people who are diagnosed Bipolar have a harder time with grief but I also know this is something more.


Are You An Empath, Psychic, or Just Crazy?

As a child I preferred to sit with the adults, watching their body language and listening to what they said. My mom comes from a large, loud, Irish family that more often than not didn’t tell the truth. When they did it was usually to my mom. I picked up early on when a person was lying or being evasive. I could spot people who were a little “different” right away. Some would ask why did I keep the company I kept if I could do this. The answer to that is I thought I deserved what I got from them. I knew who and what they were as soon as I met them but had no self esteem or confidence. I thought very little of myself and didn’t care what happened to me.

EMPATHS

The qualities of empaths are similar to those of a bipolar person or at least to me. Some say empaths are more of a mystical thing not a scientific one. I’m not sure about that.

People often confide in me even people I’ve just met. I’m deeply affected by the emotions of those around me. I put other’s needs and happiness first. I always support the outcasts and underdogs. I have a deep love of animals and feel more comfortable with them than people. I become overwhelmed in crowds of people and then feel anxious, irritable, and impatient (unless I drank). I’m somewhat creative and feel tragedy/loss deeply and for a longer time than most. I can easily read people whether it’s by their writing, eyes, mannerisms, there’s always a tell. I’m often yelled at because I “know” things but can’t explain how and people think I found out in a malicious way. I’ve also proven this to be false many times.

These traits describe many people. I do feel everything 100 times more than most people. That is the most difficult part because I wish I didn’t. Alcohol helped with that. I don’t grieve like everyone else does. I still have days where I cry uncontrollably over my dog GiGi who was hit by car at the end of our driveway. I think I can still see her white fur gently moving in the breeze as she lay there so still. The same when her brother died years later from a heart condition. His death was not a pretty one. Even though she was hit by a car there was no visible injury to her. Her brother was different and I’m the one who found him when I woke up in a puddle of blood. My dad was at dialysis so I lost control of my emotions. I still see my Mom as I ran into her hospital room. Nurses laughing, drinking coffee, one man doing chest compressions, bloody foam running down her chin, a howling sound that I’m not sure if it’s me or my Dad who’s on his knees. I’m the lucky one in the family who gets to witness the death of everyone or everything I love. I get to remember and feel all of it continuously.

It’s something my twin sister won’t have to go through. I’ll be the one to deal with my Dad too when the time comes. The worst part is my sister distancing herself from me when I’m the one taking the blows to protect her and my nephews. She would never see it that way. All of the grief and pain has shaped me into who I am today. I have kept things from her because I know it would hurt her and when she holds a grudge it isn’t pretty. She already hasn’t talked to our Dad since Christmas and I’m not sure why. I refuse to give her anymore reasons to stay away from us and only consider her husbands family as her real family. I have to say this hurts more than I thought it ever would.

Sometimes I think watching all those movies was a bad thing. I always had an idea of how life was supposed to be, how sisters were supposed to be, none of it worked out that way.


I’D BE LYING IF I SAID I WAS OKAY

Something is very wrong and I don’t know what it is. I’m a different person from day to day, hour to hour and I never know when the change will come. My joints hurt, I have severe headaches, one minute I’m with my Dad at the mechanic’s and the next I’m screaming at him and I start to walk home. I only made it to the shopping mall up the street before my legs gave out and I sat there crying. This isn’t normal.

What part of it is Bipolar or Conversion Disorder? What part of it is my medications? What part of it is actually me? Because I don’t know anymore and the only two people I have are giving up on me.

I’m tired of Doctors not being able to give me a real answer. The Psychiatrist wants to change medications again when I think it’s stupid to do if no one can tell me how my 1 kidney is processing the medications. If it’s building up in my system than why would you want to just give me a different pill? And he keeps saying there isn’t a way to tell when I know they can do blood work. The Kidney Doctors are no better they give me the same answer so does the Gastrologist. I’m tired of it. How many states do I have to go to? How many times do I have to hear “We really don’t know”. I’m not going to pay you anymore then if you really don’t know. What’s the point?

I can’t function. I can’t talk half the time. My dog now is sensitive to what triggers episodes. Today my Dad started to get into a topic that upsets me and the dog jumped in his lap and started growling then howling at him until he stopped talking. He also knows when I’m more than down he’ll press the side of face into mine until it hurts, smushing our cheekbones together. It does make me laugh. That’s one good thing.


FINDING IT HARD TO CARE

With each passing day I find it harder to care what happens to me. I’m only worried about my Dad and that only lasts until he walks away from me or spends more time with his birds rather than have a conversation with me. I’m not paranoid. You can think it if you want but he did the same to my mom when he didn’t want to deal with anything.

My appointment with the Gastroenterologist is tomorrow, I’m still going alone. I get so worked up going to the Doctor. When it’s a new one I get my hopes up that they will have some answers or a magic cure. I have a tendency to start talking a lot and fast right away. Because I’ve researched what I’ve been diagnosed with I sound like a pain in the ass patient. It never goes well. The last time I tried waiting for the Doctor to speak first. She said “So what do you think I can do for you?” I was looking for a new General Practitioner so I was confused. I wanted to say “Umm, your job?”. What kind of question is that? I wasn’t happy when I left.

I’ve had way too many bad experiences with Doctors, not only with myself but watching what they did to my mom. I’ve been given the wrong diagnosis more times than I can count, had 2 Doctors tell me it was ok to have a “few drinks” for my stuttering, have one smile like a mad scientist while asking to videotape me, another lost pictures of my breasts when he had them developed at a local photo place (not kidding), been made fun of, talked down to and humiliated. Excuse me if I get flustered when I meet you.

I’m amazed at the things Doctors didn’t think was worth mentioning to me. I’ve come up positive for Monoclonal Gammopathy the last several years. People who have this almost always progress to Multiple Myeloma and no one thought it was important. The glands or lymph nodes in my neck are swollen and every other day I have a fever. My feet have been swelling again and these headaches are like nothing I’ve ever had before.

I can’t seem to control any of my emotions. I feel so alone it physically hurts. I want to scream “WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME LIKE I LOVE YOU!” but it wouldn’t matter would it?

Sometimes I think if I was dying would they love me more? Then I think of my mom. My Dad was by her side the entire time and when I wasn’t working I was there too. But there were so many other people that should’ve been there and weren’t. I don’t even know who to put for an emergency contact.

I’m sad and tired. Something has to change.


How Today Went~ 1 Big Meltdown, 2 Threats, Binge Eating & Bad Driving

I went to bed early last night knowing I had to wake up by 4:45 a.m. to get ready to take my Dad to the V.A. Hospital to have Cataract Surgery.

I have no idea what medications were in my system when I woke up. I won’t know how any of that is really working for quite some time they now tell me. It seems that when you have Chronic Kidney Disease with kidney function now a little under 70% and Celiac Disease some of the medications can actually build up in your system and make your Bipolar worse.

The medications can cause a toxicity. Wasn’t it nice that no one told me this in two years?! So I have no clue what is going on in my body. I only know that the fast acting medications with a shorter “lifespan” are working. Dr. Drew will be excited to know that the only drugs I’m taking that work are Klonopin and Adderall. Hi, Dr. Drew! Still alive!

My father couldn’t remember how to get to the hospital even though he had been there twice before. My sister was driving so he wasn’t paying attention. I put Google Maps on my phone and was using that until he started barking directions at me over the woman’s voice. I tried to ask him how he knew if he couldn’t remember but he’s stubborn. When he says go left you go left even if it means into a fence. (Just kidding) I finally pulled over and asked him where he wanted me to go. The parking lot of the hospital was a mess and had no signs plus it was under construction. He made me park in the employee parking and we ran inside a building. There were several different buildings to pick from.

He was running from floor to floor and I couldn’t keep up. I was getting angry. He was treating me like an idiot, he knew I couldn’t keep up with him and he couldn’t hear me. I finally stopped and yelled some horrible things at him. He had brought me to the Psychiatric Floor where they admit patients. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back. He didn’t do it on purpose but in my mind at the time I was thinking he did to get back at me. I started to feel sick and tingly. I could smell the hospital smell and hear the patients. I was spinning out of control fast.

Next thing I knew I was slumped against a wall stuttering I guess what sounded like “Daddy”. I was crying too. I know only seconds had gone by but it felt like hours. A man who worked there reached me the same time as my dad did. I could hear my dad tell the man I was okay that I just needed to see him and calm down a little. He was right.

We made it to where he supposed to be but I couldn’t answer the nurse’s questions. I had to try to write my cell number down while my hands shook. I was ashamed for how I treated my dad earlier and how people looked at me. I was ashamed for losing control under stress and stuttering/shaking to the point my dad looked like he would cry.

I was stupid enough to call my sister for comfort. She instead threatened to have me committed. I guess this is going to be the new card she plays every time I do or say something she doesn’t like.

After his eye surgery I took my dad to dialysis and bought as much gluten free crap as I could find and ate it in his truck outside the dialysis center. Three and half hours later we came home. He told me how much he loves and appreciates me and understands that it’s hard for me even if he doesn’t show it. He blames himself. He also said not to listen to my sister because no one is taking me anywhere I don’t want to go. I love my dad.


HOW DO YOU GET RID OF FEAR?

Fear- it’s a word that describes most of my life. It’s a feeling I still live with everyday. The worse part is not even knowing what the hell you’re afraid of, unless it’s everything.

I live with a constant lump in my throat and a feeling in the pit of my stomach that tells me “RUN! DANGER! DANGER! SOMETHING HORRIBLE IS COMING!”. When you have had this for 30 years it is exhausting. You will do anything to get rid of it.

There are only a few things that stop this for me. Alcohol is one of them. Unfortunately the next day I am flooded with blocked Serotonin and feel 10 times worse.

While you are drinking alcohol, a wall is put up that blocks off the Serotonin going to your brain. Serotonin is what makes you feel “happy” or “good”. When the alcohol leaves your system, you are flooded with the blocked Serotonin leaving you feeling agitated, restless, sweating, with a headache, possible diarrhea, nausea, and shivering.

The other two things that help with my feelings of fear over everything are Klonopin or just sleeping. Neither of those are much of a solution either.

I’m not sure what I hate most. The actual fear and anxiety or not remembering the cause of it.

I don’t think most people can understand what a mindf*ck  it is when several doctors tell you there’s something your own brain doesn’t want you to remember. (unlike Dr. Drew these gentlemen were experts in the field and one spoke before the Senate on behalf of people with Conversion Disorder). Some patients, once they are told, stop having symptoms. But like everything else there are varying factors. These people didn’t have dual diagnoses, addiction, or were diagnosed in an early stage.

When you have another mental health problem or two and are not diagnosed until later, your chances of the symptoms getting better are slim. That’s me. It isn’t that I have no hope or I want to wallow in misery. I just have no tolerance for sugar coating anything that shouldn’t be.

Bipolar Disorder, Addiction, and Conversion Disorder are horrific for some of us. It will not get better no matter what we do. There is no yoga, meditation, visualization techniques, acupuncture, aromatherapy, cupping, leeches, blood letting, crystals, spells, chanting, prayer, candles, rebirthing, that will do anything to improve my situation.

I’ve been told by more than 2 doctors that my only choice now is more ECT (shock therapy). I don’t know if I can handle it again. The horror in my sister’s eyes when she first saw me was a lot to take in. When she told me what I was saying and how frightened she was that she had “lost” me forever I didn’t understand at first. She thought I would be stuck as a little kid forever. I was talking like the both of us were 5 years old. I couldn’t differentiate what year it was or how old we were at first. It killed her when I kept asking when “Mommy was coming”. I don’t know how she did it. How she kept it together. I’m glad she told my dad to stay away for the day. I don’t think he could’ve handled it all.

I’ve seen my father sink to his knees and howl in pain once in his life. I never want to see it again.

That’s another problem. I can’t absorb meds or vitamins but I can absorb other peoples pain. I’m a sponge. It sinks into me and finds a home. I almost welcome it.e43ed585e1f6acd831a52d97161242f196bd467dc0ba78cfa65724df5175bfe0


MY FRIEND CRITICISM

As you may or may not know, I do not take criticism well. That pertains to everything. If I’m not washing a dish the way someone thinks I should be and says so I will get emotional. If I get “notes” on what a “Post” should look like versus a “Page” or a “Blog” or “Journal” or the “About” section, I don’t get emotional I become pissed.

None of us are perfect. I’m not here looking for a book deal like some people are. I don’t want an award or a mention in a magazine. All I want is to know that there are people similar to me in the Universe. I want to know that I’m NOT ALONE.  Because without that there is no point. I’ll just talk more to my Chihuahua. It’s messier when I talk to him because he constantly wants to lick my pain away. (And he eats poop)

Back to my friend Criticism. Do you know which class I always hated the most throughout my school history? Art Class. I remember in Grade School having a teacher who looked like the host of Dance Fever, Deney Terrio. He made me nervous. I can’t even draw a stick person correctly. I can’t draw a straight line with a ruler! I believe I spent most of my time in the nurse’s office.

In Junior High we moved on to Clay. When the teacher asked us to mold something out of clay I turned in a…….ball of clay. My twin sister on the other hand was winning Art competitions. She was also writing short stories that the teachers loved. This only bothered me because my dad is artistic. He used to do charcoal sketches, oil paintings, beautiful wrought iron welding, he even did our landscaping artistically. My mom could sing and dance. I could do none of these things.

I had a hard time coming to terms with the fact that I wasn’t creative or imaginative at all. My mind just went blank and I would freeze when asked for creative ideas.

I have now realized what the problem was. I was always surrounded by people and put on the spot. I found that when I was alone I could be creative in my own way. While working at a jewelry factory for years I forgot that when I was alone I would put together my own jewelry with spare parts. I started doing jewelry at the age of 10/11. My mom would bring it home with her and she taught me how to help. I liked anything repetitious where I didn’t have to talk or think. Linking, carding, looping, accomplishes that. Designing is a whole different ballgame.

I never showed anyone the jewelry I made until much later in life. I’m talking a few years ago. I was going to try to sell some of it but always somehow managed to give it away for free. I always felt “Who do I think I am charging people for something I made?“. I couldn’t hear the compliments or positive feedback.

The one person that sold my jewelry and believed in me was a young girl I was going to for my hair. I had become too weak to hold my hands above my head to color my own hair. I always felt better around her. She was that kind of person. I gave her some of my jewelry that she liked. She asked if I would mind if she tried to sell some my jewelry because her clients had asked about it. I gave her permission to handle everything.

I always underestimated myself. Where I would’ve asked $10 for a necklace she asked between $30-$50 depending on the amount of Swarovski Crystals used and how much time she estimated it had taken me to make the piece. She sold quite a few. I cried in my car of course when she gave me the money and told me what she had done. She also received a gigantic tip that day.

I had to stop making jewelry because of my vision and my hands shaking. The vision is due to my kidney failure.

I have learned these past few years that I’m creative in different ways. I am good at looking at someone and seeing what color hair would bring out their features. I can visualize a hair cut and make up palette. I’m good at putting together outfits. I can spot artistic talent that other people dismiss with one glance. I think outside the box and because I find beauty in the darkest of places I find the unique. Most of it sounds superficial. To me it isn’t. It’s the little things that help me continue.

 

 

 


THIS IS WHO I REALLY AM AND I’M TIRED IT NEVER ENDS

tired


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