Misplaced, but not

This actually has been a good week. My mood has been calm, and at times, down right happy. I haven't actually felt like this for more than a year. It's a good feeling. Until today. Today I am gathering some paperwork I need. I consider myself fairly organized. I file things in a cabinet, neatly labeled. Today I couldn't find the title to my car. So frustrating. As I neared hysterics, I stopped and convinced myself it just wasn't worth it. I could go to the DMV, pay a small fee, and get a copy. Not worth the level of stress I was reaching. I took a break and calmed down. Very sensible. Then I had to find another copy of unrelated papers. I couldn't find what I needed. I did find the title to my car. But now I didn't have something else and needed, and this time no easy fix. I was in a state. Talking to myself, wandering aimlessly now, coming apart at the seams. I made myself sit down again. I needed to focus on something else. I made myself wait 30 minutes before resuming the search. It was right in front of me the whole time. I had my hands on it at least half a dozen times never fully comprehending what it was. I guess all's well that ends well, right?

Medicate me, please

One more week before my current dose of antidepressant will be low enough to start a new medication. (had a reaction to current med, so had to taper down before starting a new one). Basically, I am on almost no antidepressant. My mood has been, well, depressed. I feel out of control of my emotions and my life. I'm overwhelmed by the simplest tasks. Reading the mail is so stressful I have to do it in small steps. How pathetic am I? I slept most of yesterday.

I don't think S.O. is very supportive of me right now. He has said he doesn't understand what I'm going through, but I don't think it's that so much as he doesn't really care. Or it's just me being depressed and anxious about everything. I can feel myself falling into this big hole and I don't want to move or think or do anything. I just want to sleep.

What comes around....

I believe in Kharma. Have for a long time. Even before suicidal ideation was a part of my vocabulary. What I believe Kharma to be anyway, which is basically that what comes around goes around. I know that isn't really it, but let's just go with that for now.

There was a time I thought depression was a lot of B.S. I knew mental illness was real, but mental illness was schizophrenia, anti-social personality disorder, things like that. Depression was just people feeling sad and being lazy. Now I'm involved with a person that has that same outlook. See how that works? Kharma. Or irony. Whichever.

My S.O. is pretty much a homebody, just like I am now. Not like I used to be. But like I am now that I don't like people anymore. In all fairness, it's hard to like something that gives you panic attacks and causes you to behave like an irrational fool in public. He is a homebody, but he has kids. That means school concerts and sporting events. One of which is tomorrow. I love his kids. Whenever I think I can manage it, I medicate myself and attend as many functions as possible. The problem is, SO doesn't understand what it takes for me to leave the house, let alone enter a packed auditorium. If I don't go, I'm the evil *itch that only cares about herself and I am treated to grown man pouting and the silent treatment. Tomorrow we not only have 2 games, but it is our turn to work the concession stand before the 2 games and I have to bring baked goods to sell at the concession stand. I wonder if crushed Xanax looks anything like powdered sugar?

Welcome to my brain

Starting a blog about anything personal seems like a strange thing for someone with a social phobia to do. At least to me. My psychiatrist might say it seems very rational. Personal contact without the anxiety producing "person" component. So if I think it's strange, why do it? That's easily explained. A series of events triggered a major amount of anxiety. Usually something a simple Xanax might help, but I didn't want the Xanax. After all this time, they still make me too drowsy and all I want to do is sleep and I needed to be not sleepy. So I'm amped up on anxiety rushing around with what I keep telling myself is a million things to do, near tears, near panic, considering the old standby of what my psychiatrist calls "self-harm" to jolt me out of the panic (without the drowsy side-effect of the Xanax), and my S.O. thinks I should drop everything and tend to his sexual needs. I don't. He then gets pouty, which is really attractive on a man his age, which adds anger to my anxiety. He heads off to work/errands/man stuff. I am now left in the house having an argument with myself. And a blog is born.