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Plan and simple, yet effective title, don’t ya think?

And I do.  I feel like utter and complete shit.  I am emotionally, physically and above all MENTALLY drained.  I have a kid free weekend, I went to bed around 10:30 last night and slept until about 9 this morning.  And I didn’t wake up.  Once.  I don’t remember if I dreamt-I think I did.  I know I didn’t black out sleep, so that could be a good thing.  But with my body still trying to detox from the Latarda-thanks Morgue for the word because it really is-but the more I do, the more I feel like it has totally fucked my brain up.  I’m on edge all the time.  Anxious, panicky, raging.  My skin feels electric like I can ZAP someone with my intensity.  I can’t FEEL anything emotionally.  I feel the void and the emptiness, and it feels like it’s turning into a black hole.  That’s scary.  I look at things and people but I don’t SEE them.  I feel like people are looking through me as I see through everything else.  There are a zillion things running through my mind, but it sounds like a hive of bees working away-but there’s nothing to show for that work.  It’s empty up there.  I feel like I should be doing the drooling zombie shuffle but my body is functioning.  There’s the autopilot feature taking over.  IF it weren’t for that, I probably would have been hospitalized awhile ago.  And I should have been.  I SHOULD be now.  Eh-coulda woulda shoulda.  And the world keeps on spinnin with me as its axis.  Everything revolving around me and I’m just mind-numbingly here.

Today was an eh day once I got dressed.  I had to go to the store for provisions for my famous Italian Mac N Cheese.  So I figured I’d stop for a coffee treat at Starbucks.  Oh, god it was so SMALL in there!  Then there was a mom who was letting her 4-year-old run the damn show.  Fucking make his decision for him already.  Bitch I wanna get my fucking coffee and get the hell outta here.  The fucking walls are coming down on me, the counter is moving towards me.  FUCK.  “You know that’s a venti cup right?”  “I don’t care give me an iced coffee with white mocha-EASY.  ON.  THE.  ICE.”  And wtf happens??  A fucking full scoop of ice into my fucking cup.  And RIGHT when I go to complain, Little Miss Happy Vomits Sunshine comes up and asks for a  small thing of 2% please!  Just a small bit.  I swear to fucking GAWD I was burnt by her sunshinyness.  Nope.  I’m out.  I’m about to start throwin ‘bows in here.  Grab your shit and beat it, and damn near break the glass trying to exit stage right.  I actually had to sit in my car, eat my danish and calm the fuck down.  This isn’t me.  Regroup.  To the store-teeth gritted the entire 100 yard drive.  I park in the back 40 near a cart corral-I can’t be ANYWHERE near people.  Ear buds in, and I’m not even gonna remove my sunglasses in the store cuz I am shooting lasers outta my eyes.

Right up front they have they new “Share a Coke with a friend!” display.  I want one so fucking bad.  So I start to look for my name…and WHOSE fucking name do I see?!  I had to take a pic and send to BBF.  I found one though-I REAL fucking Coke-a-Cola.  Said “FUCKIT!” and bought “50 Shades of Grey” too.  Because God DAMMIT after 37 seconds in the store I’m about to have a fucking meltdown and throat punch people and run them over with my shopping cart.  Have I mentioned how NOT SASS this is?!  I have my list, and I’m REALLY good at being able to find the shit I need on the list by aisles without needing to backtrack 4 times to the SAME DAIRY AISLE, but NOT TO-FUCKING-DAY.  Jesus God in HEAVEN WHERE DID ALL THE FUCKING PEOPLE COME FROM?!  They’re like rodents coming out of their hidey-holes.  And they’re fucking IDIOTS!  They just stop in the middle of the aisle so no one can get past them, then do a fucking u-turn to go back two shelves over!  ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!  It’s like playing dodgeball and whack-a-mole with shopping carts.  What would have normally been a 15 minute tops job turned into 40 minutes of unbelievable HELL.  No wonder Morgue calls it the dish.  I couldn’t even trust myself with my usual 5 minute drive home.  I had to take the longer slower and circuitous (thank god for spell check on that word) route back home because I couldn’t trust MYSELF around other drivers-not because of them (maybe about 50% of that) but because I couldn’t trust MYSELF to NOT do anything stupid.  Some fucking asshole pulled out in front of me and did THIRTY in a FORTY zone-he did turn so I was able to keep my meandering route up-but he ended up BACK in front of me, and was STILL doing 30 in the 40-as I spew acid from my mouth at the back of his car the entire way into the addition, I thought I was going to bust a vein in my neck.  Rage much, Sass?  Jesus GAWD.

I popped in the movie because the thought of prepping everything for my Mac N Cheese made me want to curl into a ball and break dishes at the same time.  I allowed myself 2 hours of uninterrupted time to decompress and it worked.  I then pulled all of my stuff out that I needed, plugged in my phone to charge, started Spotify to my fave playlist and I got down to business.  And I did a damn good job, too.  I sang and danced while I worked, and I even did the small load of dishes in the sink, cleaned off the table and swept the floor-though my shoulder is putting up its own retaliation for performing such an astonishing amount of work (which isn’t much to someone who hasn’t fucked their shoulder up).  Eh-win some, lose some.  I had to have my mom move the big stock pot full of water from the sink to the counter because I obviously was unable to lift it.  That’s frustrating, but not stab-people-for-being-on-my-nerves frustrating.

What worries me so much is that the longer I am OFF of this Latarda, the WORSE I’m feeling.  My body physically HURTS.  I don’t think I’ll ever NOT clench my jaw anymore.  The anxiety and panic I have NOW I have never had to this degree.  Yeah, I’ve had it at times, and it’s eventually gone away.  This shit, gets worse with every passing day.  It’s triggering the PTSD and there goes the cycle…fucking chasing my tail like a dog.  I have 3 episode of The Following to watch and I think 3 of Outlander, and I could give 5 fucks if I watch them.  I don’t want to watch TV.  Shit, sometimes I don’t even want to listen to my music-the ONE thing that has brought me calm.  I don’t want to blog sometimes, or even be a fucking parent.  I want to go into my room and lock the fucking door and hide until this storm passes.  But this one ain’t gonna pass.  It’s fucking building with each ticking second of the clock.  And I’m fucking scared.  I’m teetering on the brink, and no one seems to notice it but you guys and me in moments of lucidity.  I’m a fucking time-bomb.

How could a med this “progressive” do this to so many of us?  Right now since I’m lucid, I want to fucking start a class action lawsuit against the company.  Because their med not only didn’t help me, it harmed me, and harmed me in such a way that I don’t know if I’ll EVER be able to fully “function” on my own now.  I was working towards getting myself together enough to get out on my own and take care of my kids….and now?  Now I’m scared to death I will be living with my parents for the rest of my life…or worse, have to be hospitalized because I can’t control the rage the boils under the surface now.  I’m even more unpredictable in my mood swings that I can’t take myself out of the equation like I’ve been able too to have a cool down period.

And it doesn’t help that last night was the first night I actually talked to Florida like he was with me.  I held and actual out loud conversation with him.  Because it made perfect sense to do so.  I felt him with me, so we talked-well, I talked out loud and he talked to me in my head.  But you get the gist of it.  This shit isn’t right.  I’ve never had psychosis…but I feel like I’m heading for a psychotic break-if I’m not already there-and I’m just like, meh.  Yeah, I’m in trouble.  I don’t think partial will be enough for me, honestly.  I think I need more than what they can do, but if all the beds are full in the hospital…what do I do?

Anyway I look at it, I’m screwed…and I am just trying to hang on for another day…and it just makes me feel like shit even more.  Sigh, and Florida text me…I can’t let it go…neither can he…I just told him I would like to talk if he’ll let me.  That’s all I can do.  He has a right to be let free of me, and vice versa…and I think he has the right to know that I’m close to falling apart….and I’m back on that Tilt-o-Whirl…fuck all, I just wanna sleep.  I’m not even gonna enjoy any Johnnie tonight.  It’s meds and bed.  God I just want some peace…I don’t wanna feel like shit anymore…

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