That's Where I Live

Have you ever rested so much on one thing that, if that one thing doesn't pan out, you're gonna be dusted?

I have.

I am, in fact.

I have a doctor's appointment today from which I need a small miracle... in the form of a pill.

To be clear, at this point I do not give a flying fuck what that pill even is... just so long as it brings back my drive... my life force... my will to even be alive. 

I have experienced this in the past and gotten relief... even if it wasn't immediate... it still came.

I am so lost inside the minutia of life right now, I don't have a clue which end is up and which is down. I'm tumbling through existence at the moment like an asteroid through space... hurtling toward the great expanse of nothingness. 

Lately, I can't deal. 

Like with anything.

My oldest is getting to be quite an expert on sucking every last molecule of oxygen out of a room. I sincerely can't breathe when she is (or I guess to be politically correct, they are) in my presence. It's a sin, really. I just can't with that kid right now... and she needs me. She's changed her name to something more androgynous. I hate it. She signed our Christmas cards with said name... so all the relatives got cards with a strange name signed to them... no explanation. I just can't. I want to be supportive, but I just don't buy into it with this kid - I don't. I think it's a phase. A desperate plea to the universe to fit... anywhere. That, all by itself is the saddest thing I've ever heard, but I can't muster more than a blank expression and subtle acceptance for her. I simply don't have the room inside my swirling mind for it. And I tend to be walking away from the poor kid more often than not.

My bankruptcy filing is on tenuous ground just now... mostly because we have not been paying them anywhere near what they require us to pay. It's so much money per month... like more than our rent. It's ridiculous. There is no way we are gonna be able to pay them off for like... years. Which means I'm stuck in an open file until every last penny is paid. I want to scream... but I just cry, instead.

Revenue Canada has us in their sites again. Hubs' EI filing from three years ago has come into the cross hairs and they are disputing what he got. By another $3K or so... plus penalties. We sent proof to the contrary, but they simply are not accepting it. Period. And since we are dealing with the "because we say so" corporation, we're good and truly fucked... which means we could be garnished for additional funds to them.

I can't even...

There are things I need to be on top of... but I just can't. I can't do it. All I want to do is sleep... and cry... and eat. And when I eat, it's like my body wants to stuff itself so full, I'll purge. I've vomited a few times in the past several weeks. But it doesn't stop me from consuming. I'm like a machine... just keep stuffing fuel in until it blows... then start over again.

I lost my cool at work yesterday. 

It wasn't as bad as it could have been, but it was bad enough that it has given me a little shake. I need to remain employed. In fact, I need to be more employed than I am. I need to make more money than I do. Sadly, I have zero marketable skills at present. I have no drive... and that is what has always made me special... my drive. And it is gone. All of it. Even the fun parts, like sex... gone. I couldn't care less than I do about any part of sex right now... and that my friends is a sad story right there.

***

Update - I had my appointment. It went... okay. It comes as no surprise that there is no such 'magic pill' that will do a damn thing for me in one shot... except maybe arsenic, but I digress...

There is a plan. A medical / physical / emotional plan that requires a measure of work from me. I need to get a sun lamp. I need to take the three flights of stairs up to my office every morning and I must give up alcohol. This, coupled with a change in mood stabilizer should produce a manic episode... that is what I'm after... mania.

Sad, as I know it to be, it is the drive that I am missing.

Giving up one of my vices is going to be the toughest part for me. I tend to anesthetize myself on the regular lately... it's the only way I can keep myself from freaking the fuck out. That seems to be where I live these days... on the edge of sheer, unadulterated panic. I find I am often struggling to catch a breath over the icy fingers of panic around my throat and lungs.

I need to grab a hold of myself and take back control over my life. It isn't going to be an easy fix by any standard, even the loosest, but I truly can't keep existing in this state for much longer. The fact that I haven't had a stroke or heart attack under this stress is a medical mystery to me. I'm on the verge of tears twenty-four hours a day. Even when I'm sleeping, I sometimes cry... it's awful.

I'm supposed to be focusing on self care. Ha! Like I have time for that. But it is something I have to do... take baths, go for walks, sing, write, talk to people... all things I have given up in the past six or so months. In fact, I have done such a fantastic job of isolating myself, even my core relationships are strained... not the least of which, my husband. This kind of stress can't be healthy for a marriage. It sure as hell isn't healthy for me.

Anyhoo... I've belly-ached for long enough and I must get back to reality for a while. My mother is visiting me this evening... I doubt I will discuss this with her - it is unlikely I'll have the privacy to do that. Plus I don't think it will be helpful to her to know I am just one mis-step away from a real sad story. But there you have it - that is where I live these days.