The attempt to be perfect in an imperfect world…

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A good portion of my anxiety seems to come from an overwhelming need to be perfect. Each day is obviously met with an overwhelming sense of failure.

I have set impossible standards for myself. None of which I can ever really meet to my satisfaction. And in turn I will beat myself up over small things.

For me my favorite time of the day is when I first wake up. Nothing has had the chance to go wrong just yet.  The day is fresh and new…and my mind likes to play its little tricks and tells me that maybe today…for once…we can do everything right.

But then the day starts.  My apartment is a mess…all I see are things that should be getting done, and I can’t even manage to get that done.  Then slowly things will with out fail, will fall apart and not go according to this plan I have in my head.  Every misstep leading me to believe that there is nothing I can do right.

Not one thing.

But how can a person even make the attempt to be perfect in an imperfect world?  Is it even possible?  I see these other girls…with their amazing taste in clothes, perfect hair, make up, confidence.  How can I compare to that?  Obviously shes figured out how to be better than me right?  But I am not the girly girl.  I hardly wear make up, my hair style is pulled up and out of my way…and clothes…whatever is comfy today.

Once again…I fail.

I’m fairly certain that the medication changes have not helped this situation either.  With the overwhelming depressing having firmly set up camp.  It leaves me feeling hopeless on top of everything else…

Today marks my very last day on Viibryd.  Tomorrow we start 50mg Zoloft, 25mg hydroxizine twice daily, and 2.5mg Valium 3x a day.  I will keep my fingers crossed that the Zoloft will do what its supposed to do and I can start to feel a little less on edge all the time.

Regardless I know there are positives…one of which is my new obsession for the week…the dehydrator.

Awhile ago the Other Half took a trip with some friends out to Bass Pro Shops, obviously aside from his fishing supplies he picked up he came home with a huge bag of the cure/marinade for jerky.

Now I freely admit I have a jerky problem.  Addiction really.  So this…the idea of HOMEMADE jerky?!!  Oh lord I was in heaven.

Only issue we continued to forget to pick up the dehydrator from his parents house.  Now granted I had other plans for the dehydrator aside from jerky.  Like fruits.  Things I can snack on and are healthy, plus its a cheap easy way to make treats for the dog too!

Finally last weekend we remembered to bring the thing home.  And this is what I’ve learned.

Dehydrating fruit with sweet potatoes makes everything taste like sweet potatoes.

Bananas.  Oddly take a long time to dehydrate.  Mine are still kinda chewy…but I’ll still eat them.

Homemade jerky is the best.

And I am a beef jerky addict.

We made a batch 2 days ago.  1 1/2lbs of beef.  Marinated for 12 hours.  Made just as the package stated and it came out amazing.  Except. It’s basically gone (did you think I was kidding when I said I have a problem?).  I now have almost 2lbs of meat going.  This time though we added some extra seasonings to the cracked pepper marinade/cure.  Now the wait.

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Finding validation without a voice.

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I suppose it’s only appropriate that the entire blog post I’d originally written for this title, was somehow erased, no auto-saves happened during the time I was typing.  Just gone.

I started this post, after an upsetting chain of events that happened on Facebook.  An Ex of many years ago, who I’ve stayed friends with made a post about his car.  He who if you knew him at all would know that car issues are very common for him since he either takes terrible care of his car, or goes to shady shops that continue to screw him over.  (I’ve watched this happen over and over and over and over in the 13+ years I’ve known him).

It failed inspection for a silly reason, to which I responded with how I didn’t think this was a valid reason for a fail, but even so if he was going to order the part and could show the shop he should be able to get a temporary sticker.

What I was met with was just continued reasons why this just wont work/help and blah blah blah.  Which means he’s just getting more and more pissed off, and apparently he got pulled over to boot.  Instead of acknowledging my advice, he just shot me down over and over.  Then some of his little friends chimed in basically making me feel even worse and questioning what I had to say because they “didnt see anything on the DMV website”.  Regardless that I’d stated my information was coming from a mechanic.

The Rage started.  Oh how I wanted to open a can of crazy all over these idiots who probably can’t even put their own windshield wash in themselves.

Breath.

I send him a text instead.  Telling him that he’s acting like a jerk.  He claims that I’m reading into things too much and had no intentions of being rude in his comments.

Finally.  The words come out.

When he talks to me like that, he leaves me feeling that my words have no worth.  They are not valid.  That this is how he has always made me feel.  That by just shooting down my thoughts with negativity and not acknowledging that I could be right in this instance.

I was met with nothing.  No response.  No I’m sorry I’ve made you feel that way.  Just nothing.  As embarrassing as it is to admit it.  He being an English major, and hoping for some feedback on my blog if he was willing to read it.  Again ignored.

What did I expect?  I mean.  He’s an asshole.  He freely admits it.

Why does it mean so much for him to actually hear me.  Listen.  And respond like a human being?  I wish I had the answer.  I know continuing to talk to him, allow him into my life isn’t asking for anything but more problems.  Why not just cut him out?  Because apparently my mind gets some sick pleasure of my need for some type of validation from him.

It would be oh so easy to blame him for how I feel now.  That I have no voice.  That what I have to say doesn’t matter.  I’m just talked over, or met with silence.  While his actions probably did nothing to help matters…I know it’s not just him.

So many times I’ve tried.  Tried to reach out as best I could.  Open up.  Only to be let down time and time again.  Always left feeling that when I talk…people don’t listen or care and will talk over me because what I have to say isn’t important.

Lets add to the fun that I’m now on day 5 of the taper down to 10mg of Viibryd and taking 15mg of Zoloft with it, I’m a mess of out of control emotions some days.  Recently it’s been just deep depression.  No reason I can find…just overwhelming depression.  The Anger is still there, although it seems…sometimes to be getting better although this morning maybe it’s still pretty bad.

All I wanted was some Chinese for dinner….

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Tonight I splurged a little. Ordered Chinese food…and when I opened my fortune cookie it read…

What you will do matters. All you need is to do it.

Wow gee thanks dinner for getting my brain in a tizzy. Honestly I find it funny. A few different blog posts have been floating through my head all it’s all thrown aside by a silly fortune cookie.

What you will do matters.

What I have done matters.

Today. Of all days my favorite resident from my old job having been discharged from the agency sent me a Facebook request.

A boy who when I first met told me to “Go fuck yourself” at dinner. Defiant. Awkward. Scared. A Boy who had been living on the streets basically till he came to us. A boy who told me when I first met him to “Go fuck myself” at dinner one night.

I think I saw a lot of myself in him. We talked a lot. He grew so much from the boy I first met. And in the end I became one of his favorite staff. He cried the day I had to tell him I was against my wishes being transferred to another unit.

After leaving my job I was not allowed any contact with any residents who were still there. Him included. It made me feel so very honored that he did look me up after his discharge. In a way. I was his mother for a short amount of time. And I feel so proud of what he’s been able to do since I first met him.

What I did matters.

And what I will do matters. I only have to be brave enough to go for it.

And all I thought I was getting was chinese food tonight.

I’ll take door number two please?

Tomorrow marks my last day on just viibryd. Starting Thursday I will be taking 10mg of viibryd and 25mg of Zoloft.

I’m not really sure how I feel about this. Again it’s like a blind date. But you feel like you’ve been there before “oh he’s soooo nice you’ll love him”

“This has worked really well for a lot of my patients.”

Another SSRI. How many of these do they need to put me on before they realize they don’t work. Lexapro was the only one that helped with the aids of other meds for the anxiety.

Prozac, Paxil, lexapro, viibryd, and now Zoloft.

I don’t think I want what’s behind door number two….

Can I take the mystery box instead??

Words are bullets, that leave wounds that never heal.

The sting of yesterday’s encounter hasn’t left me. It has in fact led me down the rabbit hole of bad memories. Words. So many words that have left not scars but open wounds that will not heal.

One of which is the words of my ex fiancé during his explanation of what led him to break things off.

“I want to be with someone who’s as smart as I am.”

Years later the words still haunt me. The pain never eases. It hurts as bad as the day he said them.

In reality. Am I as smart as him? Hardly. I’m smarter. Ha!! I know I am far smarter than he dreams he is. My vocabulary is better than most adults I know. I have actually managed to get a collage degree when he, even having his schooling handed to him and paid for by the military can’t manage to pass a collage class. And honestly. I know my IQ score and I know his. And in even the numbers I beat him.

So why does is hurt me so much even now?

Words.

Oh so many words that haunt me. Things people have said to me that have in fact broken me just a little more.

I can remember. 15. High School. Right after lunch, stopped in the bathroom, and a girl from my class…someone I’d thought of as a friend, asks me if I do drugs because I wear purple lipstick.

At that point I’d never smoked a cigarette let alone tried any type of drugs. Worst I had done was have a drink or a few when the parents were out.

Ohhh the rebel I was….

To be asked such a thing. I don’t know how I managed the rest of my day. Honestly I don’t remember much of high school…it was just an anxiety filled hell.

Words…that burn to this day…

Being told at 15 when I told by an adult when I wouldn’t go back to school that I’d never achieve anything, I was ruining my life. Sitting for an hour and a half as he lectured me about how…in my mind I was worthless.

Words that hunt my memories…

I’m not sure how old I was…10 maybe. My mom and I pulled into our driveway, her van fresh from being washed and waxed. Trying to be silly I made some stupid comment about the cats not being able to jump on the van now the wax would make it slippery and swiping my fingers against the side of the van mimicking the cats slipping trying to get a grip. I remember being scolded and made to wipe my finger prints from the van.

Words…

An ex years ago defending his friend after this friend once again verbally assaulted me. Saying oh it’s just how O is. He’s an asshole.

No. It’s not. Ok. It’s just ok to justify verbal abuse.

Words hurt.

The leave wounds that hurt…and haunt some people forever.

To me words hurt more than physical abuse. They hurt. They stay with me. They remind me of all my faults. Those that people point out.

How I play with my hair and have a soothing habit of rubbing a piece on my lips…how often I hear…

“How’s your hair taste”

I don’t know asshole. If I was actually putting it in my mouth I’d tell you. And what the hell gives you the right to say a damn thing???

It’s not like I walk up to people and say wow your mom must have a HUGE nose cuz yours is GIGANTIC!!

That’s how I feel.

How often we don’t think before we speak. How it hurts people. Or how others will take what we said.

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Bye bye Vialbyrd.

After having my psychiatrist appointment canceled on me twice, I finally met with her today. I walked in, my journal tucked away in my bag, with a list of everything side effects wise I’d been experiencing. Knowing that she likes to talk and I often lose my train of thought.

Thankfully I didn’t need my handy journal, and after just explaining a few of the side effects, she stopped me and said the magic words I thought I would have to fight to hear…

“This medication is not right for you, let’s see what else we can try.”

After some discussion she decided to give Zoloft a try. Continuing on the Valium and hydroxyzine as I’d been taking them.

Then the bomb shell.

She’s retiring August 18th. Well crap. The other psychiatrist on staff will take over until they get her replacement who is unknown at this time. Awesome. Not that I’m in love with this psychiatrist…the thought of someone new was not exciting.

But. Let’s rewind to the start of my day. I woke up early not feeling well. Ended up throwing up a few times and was afraid I might have to cancel my appointment today. Since I wasn’t feeling well, I wasn’t able to eat, and I didn’t feel comfortable taking my meds when I wasn’t sure I could keep them down.

Fast forward to 3:30 on my walk to said appointment. I’m full of rage. Everything. Everyone. Makes me want to scream. I hate them all. How inconsiderate they are ect ect ect…

After the appointment with my psychiatrist I managed the walk home without much issue. The Other Half and I had plans to go to his mothers tonight to help her with some work on her house and for dinner. Since the car is still off the road we went outside to wait for his mom to pick us up, the Other Half ran back upstairs to get my forgotten phone and charger. I stood waiting, with the dog, a hoodie under my arm in case it cooled off while we were out.

Then these two men walked around the corner from the little convince shop. Idiot One makes the comment as he sees me and the dog “Oh that some scary shit over there” Idiot Two replies “Yeah the dogs scary too” laughter from both of them.

I give them a dirty look but keep my mouth shut. It’s not worth it.

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Idiot One keeps talking making some comments about “ugly ass bitches not knowing how to take care of themselves”

I ignore it. It’s not worth it….

Finally as they are finally past me one of the two idiots made a nasty comment about how I had a “fluffy coat like a blanky” more laughter.

The RAGE is full blown. It’s all I can do not to yell after them “if you have something to say, say it to my face ******”

I realize. I was thinking of yelling at to black men and calling them the N word to boot. I feel the world tilt…the tears are starting…and I run to my apartment before the full anxiety attack takes over.

I can hardly get the words out to the Other Half about what happened. I’m so mad. I want to throw things. Break things. Not a good idea. I punch my fridge instead.

The Other Half goes down to talk to the manager at the shop where these guys were coming from and he explained what happened. This guy is a known scum bag of the neighborhood no surprise there. Thankfully the store owner also happens to be my landlord so I know he won’t let this stand.

The RAGE is still going strong when he comes back. At this point I’m ready to go confront these guys. Scream yell. Oh hell I think at one point I said I wanted to wait for them to be walking under our windows so I could dump broken glass on them.

Out of my MIND angry…

And the question flying through my mind is why?? I really? What the hell did I do? I was standing there with my dog. Obviously waiting for someone. So to just blatantly be rude like that to upset someone. What did I do???

All of this happened hours ago now. The depression has set in. I’ve replayed this over and over. Wishing I had spoken up. Done something different. Anything. What’s worse is the shame of how I acted in the moment in front of my Other Half.

In the end it does confirm that the Viibryd is not helping. Next up. Getting off this junk and hoping that the next one does something.

A man I call Henry.

Today while I was walking Rōjin we passed a few boxes that had been next to the road for a few days now. Assorted old dishes and such nothing of importance. Earlier in the week when these boxes appeared there was a headboard too which has disappeared since as many things do.

I thought how my little neighborhood was funny, how they all seem to recycle furniture others have deemed no longer of use. I will see things move from house to house. Sometimes adopted for use by the kids in the area to create lemonade stands.

But then. Something felt wrong. These boxes were in front of “Henry’s” house. Henry as I call him…I don’t know his real name…is an older gentleman who sits every day it’s nice out in his blue lawn chair and reads. Rōjin and I often stop to say hello and he always would tell me how much he loves dogs.

I felt my stomach sink as I realized I’d not seen Henry in days. These couldn’t be his things could they?? Has my friend left…or worse???? We walked a little further and I could see Henry’s chair next to the stairs just as it always is. As we turned to head home there he was wandering back down the street with his cane. Relief washed over me.

I never realized how much I loved our little interactions. And I hope he does too. It was funny that someone I hardly know…who had touched my life in such a brief time had made such a big impact.

It was a nice feeling and a better start to my day.

Sometimes you just want to give up.

This week has been very…very overwhelming.  Aside from what I’ve previously written about, the other night brought on a full blown anxiety attack while I was at a store.

Since the car currently needs to have the registration renewed we have only been driving later in the evenings to avoid the possibility of being pulled over.   Which means my anxiety is already high when we get to Wal-Mart.  Thankfully the store isn’t too busy, but the staff seem to be restocking or some such thing which in the end makes me paranoid that they are following me as I wandered looking for something by myself.

Once myself and the Other Half were done with our quick stop to pick up a few basics and such, we head to an empty check out.  Everything is fine, I swipe my benefits card from DSS.

Invalid Pin.

Ok.  No biggie.  I put it in wrong.  I try it again.

Invalid Pin.

Ok.  So my permanent card isn’t activated yet.  I pull out my temp card.  Swipe.  Pin.

Invalid Pin.

People are behind me in line.  I’m starting to panic.  I don’t have cash.  Only this card.  I can feel the panic attack starting to take over.  The tears are coming.  I tell the girl at the check out to go ahead with the people behind me while I figure out whats going on.  My mind is telling me everyone is looking.  Judging me.  Even more so because I’m on government assistance.  I mean.  They must know.  They probably saw the card.  So then they probably are judging me more because if you look at me I look like I can work…

The anxiety is taking over and I’m in the middle of a damn store.  At first I resist the Other Half telling me we should step out side.  I realize I’m probably causing a scene and finally go with him.  Once in the car we call the help line.  After what seems forever I find the option to reset my pin.

Great.  It says it worked and my card will work.  Instead of going back through the line I attempt to just take my money out from the ATM.

Still declined.

The anxiety starts all over again.  The Other Half has to take me out of the store as I’m just falling apart.  At this point I can’t stop the tears.  I totally fall apart on the way home.

It all sounds so stupid now that I write it.  How a simple every day event that caused me to in the end flee to my car and cry.  How weak and small it makes me feel.

In the end the fix was easy as stopping by the DSS building and having my card reset.  But going back to the store after this happened was worse.  What if they remembered?  What if its the same check out girl?  What if…what if…what if.  Even going in with cash instead of relying on a card didn’t help.  I was flustered and couldn’t remember half of what I needed to pick up.  In the end no matter what I feel as if I have failed.

Yesterday, was a slightly better day.  Today, day 4 of the 40mg of Viibryd I actually feel a little better.  I feel slightly less on edge that I have, no major panic attacks.  But.  My hair is still falling out, and it’s quite a bit every time I wash it.  By the end of the day, my legs ache, mainly the joints but the muscles too, with no explanation.

Yesterday was also supposed to be my appointment with the psychiatrist.  Which was canceled since she was sick.  I’m now rescheduled for Monday.  Not great but better than anticipated.

While meeting with my therapist today, we spoke a lot about how I seem to ignore the friends who are good friends.  And try to please the people who are nothing more than leaches in my life.  Although now I’ve all but cut most of them from my life.  Some remain.  For some reason, I cling to these friendships, although each of these people have hurt me very deeply in some way or another.  And those memories of those things they have done that would to anyone with any sense would have ended a friendship, I allow to continue to hurt me because I wont let the reminder of all that hurt go.  Honestly they probably don’t even know or remember what they have done to hurt me so badly.  But I do.  I even let these people seep into my facebook.  I’ve started blocking some posts from people because I just can’t stand seeing them so happy when, not only have they made me feel terrible at some point but they are happy while I feel like this.

Even after the snows gone…

A few months ago during our last bad snow storm, my car was hit. No note. Nothing. Just a big dent in my rear fender, huge chip of paint missing and damage to my tail light.

Thankfully my landlord has cameras all around our building and it was caught on tape.

Turns out it was the snow plow guy.

Nice move jerk.

Apparently my landlord months ago sent him the video and my contact info. We never heard a peep. I just found out who actually hit my car a few weeks ago and have been attempting to get the phone # to call them.

Well I get the guy on the phone today.

I ask if he is who does the snow plowing for my address which he confirms.

I calmly explain to him that I’m calling regarding my car being hit by one of his plows.

His response. Ok.

I’m starting to feel the anger rise now.

I calmly explain that I know my landlord had contacted him about it with the video and contact info but I’d not heard from him.

“Ok”

Breath.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell him what a scumbag he was. That what he did was damned illegal and he’s damn lucky I didn’t file a police report. Sue. Hell. Anything.

What I do say is that there is damage to my car. And this was a hit and run and again remind him this is on tape.

He says he will call some shop and have them fix my car.

I’m so mad I’m shaking as I try to calmly as possible to get the directions to this shop.

I say thank you and hang up.

I can hardly breath I’m so angry.

I really just want to go on a rampage. Find this guy and scream in his face. Tell him everything I’ve been holding in over this for months.

He KNEW. And instead of doing the right thing he drove away. Leaving me with a damaged car and another thing for my mind to fixate on.

He not only damaged my car he damaged me.

Showing once again people don’t care. Why do I try so hard to do everything right to have people just shit all over me time and time again?

I wonder sometimes what it would be like. To not worry about always doing the right thing. Not following all the rules.

Stuck in the past.

I have come to the conclusion I DO NOT like Viibryd.  Yesterday was the start of the 40mg dose.  If anything the anxiety feels far more intense.  I can feel the anxiety attacks coming on like a storm.  But whats worse is the just overall feeling all the time that something is not right.  Like the anxiety is just under the surface waiting to jump out again.

Oh and the hair loss.  Thats awesome.  Every shower I have hand fulls of hair fall out.  If it keeps up I swear I’ll be bald in a few weeks.

Sometimes I just want to be out right mean to people.  To people who have wronged me so long ago and I kept it in.  Secretly keeping score.  Now I want to lash out.  Say the things I would never say otherwise…focusing on things I can’t fix or change, but I can’t let them go.

It leaves me wondering what I did so wrong to some of these people that they treated me like they did.  Or better yet.  Why did I let people…and continue to do so…treat me as if I’m worthless?  I continue to think back on the most recent incident when another female was moved to the unit I worked in with troubled youth…aka juvys.  While I knew her history of making things difficult and being not so nice to other staff.  I treated her just as I would any other person.  Sunday mornings our longest work day (15.5hrs) I would make a full pot of coffee knowing she was also a coffee drinker so she could have some too.  When we got our fake Kurigg I would share my k-cups with her.  I supported her with the kids we worked with.  In fact.  I was about as professional as I could be.  So when she constantly talked about me behind my back at work.  Would run to tattle on any little thing I did that was not “by the book”, and the topper of the situation.  Bribing kids with candy to actually not listen to me and treat me like shit.

What did I do?!  What slight could I have caused to make her treat me this way?

I can look back through so much of my life and see these types of things play out over and over, and I’m always left wondering what I did.  It must be my fault right?

Perhaps the better question is why do I feel the need to try to make these people like me?  Why do I time and time again, allow people to treat me like crap, and hope that by treating them as I would anyone else that they will somehow like me?

The worst part is.  The people who truly do like me for me.  Who are my true friends.  The ones who treat me how I treat them.  I never think they like me either.  I assume they put up with me because of my Other Half, or that I worked with them.  Forget the fact that they will text me, call, ect on their own to check in on me.

Regardless, I need some relief.

At least I can talk to my psychiatrist about all this tomorrow at my appointment.