Mental illness folks, it’s not all fun and viral internet attention!
Kinda fell off the edge of the word as far as the internet has been concerned, but I think I’m good again. This is what happened, since speaking openly about mental illness has become one of my specialties.
First, the kids brought me the gift of strep throat. So I started my mini-hiatus because I was utterly wrecked. XVO was also ill, so we were giving everything we had plus a lot more to being the best parents we could be through illness. Then, some shit went down. What happened is too complicated, touching too many people in my world to begin to get everyone’s consent to write about it here, so I’m not going to get into much detail. I’m an Ethical Professional Oversharer.
So shit hit the fan, which leads to more shit hitting the fan. Things are really hard, we’re incredibly overwhelmed. How I deal with being overwhelmed is to shut down and do my damnest to concentrate on what I can handle, what I can fix. That even worked for a while! I wasn’t present online, but I was keeping my shit together mentally – not falling apart as I am so very prone to doing.
Until I couldn’t anymore. Since Sunday I’ve been in a panic episode, with each day getting worse and worse until yesterday I wasn’t able to do much more than sit on the end of our bed rocking back and forth, dizzy, sweating, trying not to hyperventilate. I’d woken up two days in a row to instant panic attacks, with delightful flashbacks to triggering events in my life. It was bad.
Then XVO reminded me that I have a doctor who gives a fuck about me, I should call her. AND I DID! That’s a big deal, when I’m in those horrific places reaching out for help is nearly impossible, more so if I need to talk on the phone. I got an emergency script of meds to get me back to at least functional until I can go in to see her and we can work out a new mental health strategy.
There was some awesome in there, and I’m not talking the SheVibe Cover. While in the panic state, I did not experience suicidal ideation! Which is shocking and amazing. Suicidal ideation is my bag, until amitriptyline, I probably thought about suicide on a near daily basis. It was my brain’s instant answer for everything. Stubbed your toe? Kill yourself! After years of therapy I learned to cope with that, eventually turning it into my own little joke that I didn’t share with anyone. “haha brain, that’s fucking ridiculous. Calm yourself.” No, no suicidal thoughts. “Just” a horrible cycle of panic that I couldn’t break, that kept snowballing.
Orally disintegrating clonazepam, I love you.
Going through the panic episode without also pushing through depression was a new experience. It was more frustrating than anything else, part of me knew that I was fully capable of all these things I could make myself do. Like, you know, opening my email or looking at messages. Not even because I was worried about harassment, I just couldn’t deal with the world beyond the walls of my house. Even friendly, loving concern. Too much. Hell, dealing with toddler life was too much within these walls. Hence the spending most of a day rocking back and forth.
Anyway, the cycle I was in appears to have broken. The Huge Life Stress is still *very* present, but it’s not triggering now. Hopefully the universe will cut us some slack the next day or two so I can completely pull my head above the water and get my mighty back. Today I’m dressed, I have makeup on. I’ve opened my email, bullshitted with Cooper. Played ball with Rawr, read books, cooked. Have a dear friend visiting from DC.
I feel like Me Again.
Now, #OrgasmQuest. There has been no progress because between illness and panic, masturbation hasn’t been on my radar at all. One attempt was made with the Form 5, but quickly abandoned as I realized I was too panicked to relax enough to enjoy anything. It’s now bedtime for the Rawr Monster, so perhaps I’ll be able to post again later with great success. We’ll see.
Mental Illness, it’s a thing in my life. When it hits hard, I fall off the radar. If I’m not posting anywhere? Chances are high that I’m in a bad mental place, not simply busy. I have to get myself back together, there isn’t much that outside forces can do. All the love and sweetness sent my way has been deeply appreciated, even if I didn’t really respond.
Now, I am off to finish the Mothering part of my day. Let’s all hope that he decides that brushing his teeth isn’t torture. Thank you for taking the time to read this, and I hope the last week or two has been better for you than it has been for me.