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barebonesblonde · 4 years

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Grief, COVID, and Brain Cooties

It’s been a long while, my Little Kumquats. I’ve been, like most people on the Mentally Interesting spectrum during this whole COVID thing, trying to Keep It Together.

Seriously, this is the worst apocalypse ever. Not even any zombies or cool outfits. FUCK this.

I’ve been working on my book, with a Hell of a lot of success, actually, up until about 2 weeks ago and I hit a major writers block wall, when I started writing about my son, as always happens. Ten years after his death and I still hit a wall when I start writing about certain aspects of his life and subsequent passing.

One of these days I’ll get my shit together about all that.

Anyway, so the ten year anniversary of his death was a couple weeks ago, and since then I’ve been really struggling. I’ve had to take my PRN anti-crazy med like 5 times this month, which is more than I’ve had to take the damn thing in the past year. And not for voices or delusional thinking anything like that, but for just…rage. Anxiety and rage. I have a nifty sort of psychosis and risperdal covers all my symptoms nicely. I sometimes think it would be a good idea if I were living on a deserted island with nothing but animals (which are the only creatures that don’t piss me off when I get like this) with some of the shit that goes through my head when the Mean Reds hit. It’s ugly, people. Like, Dexter type ugly. It’s really good that my psychiatrist and I agree that I have a firm sense of self-awareness, can monitor my symptoms, and know when it’s time to take a chill pill. Literally.

Honestly, I bet most people have these terrible impulses from time to time, it’s just that with me…well let’s just say I have a lot more buried rage than most. And fantasies of vigilantism. Picture me in a Catwoman outfit, putting those years of Hapkido and gun training to use on these mean streets of Chicago, swooping down on rapists and Jehovas Witnesses – like with a sword and maybe a Glock. Because I’m only 117 lbs and not completely stupid.

But anyway.

So yeah. Meds.

My depression has been abysmal these days, like we’re talking suicidal ideation in the wee hours after killing ¾ of a bottle of wine abysmal in that week of the anniversary. I’m just pulling out of it a bit now, but it was bad. One reason it was extra shit was this guy I was involved with chose that week to break it off with me (yeah, he knew, the little darling); so that just put things into a shitty tailspin of turbo depression for me. I’m doing better with it now — it was long distance, doomed to fail, yahta yahta…but it hurt. I haven’t been in ANY kind of relationship in over three years so to open myself up like that, even for a couple months, was a bit devastating when it ended.

I suppose I’m just sort of an idiot for getting myself in the situation to begin with, but hey — we feel what we feel. That’s sort of the whole point. It’s just that I don’t generally feel deeply for people very often. I have a very small pool of people I give a fuck about, and that’s it. And so when a person gets in, it’s hard for me to let go.

And that is a problem.

My solution is to cut him off. I have to. And I miss him like Hell. But also fuck him for lying to me.

But anyway, the depression thing. Exacerbating that whole thing is I’m having a damn Hashimotos (and now, one doc is thinking possibly Lupus) autoimmune flare up, which is just making me feel shittier. I’m cutting WAY back on the booze which was necessary because every damn year I just drink myself into oblivion on the anniversary, which does not mix well with my mental state, my meds, or my health in general. Last night I nursed some wine spritzer and left glass #3 sitting on my nightstand for the cat to knock over. Progress.

I did take a week off to visit my friends M and L and their lovely rugrats in Madison, which was fantastic and I had a great time just getting out of my own head and getting out of the house FINALLY…but I think the constant activity just shunted me into getting sick.

AND THIS IS WHY WE CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS.

So thank God I work from home and my boss understands the situation so I can lay here in bed like an 18th Century tubercular Irish wastrel watching stand-up comedy on YouTube, and Horror movies on Prime.

This COVID shit makes everything so fucking crazy. I take one trip now that things are getting loosened up a bit, and it just so happens that M is an epidemiologist. So we look at the numbers for the rate of infection, and they are increasing at an alarming rate (duh) after all the riots. While I was there on my visit, the bars in their county got closed down again. The second wave is upon us, folks. And me, having already had it once…

Oh, yeah. I had it way back in the beginning. Didn’t I mention that?

…I really don’t want it again, particularly since I’m already immunocompromised as it is. That shit was no joke, guys. I’ve never been so sick in my life. I still don’t feel 100% right, and I’ve been “Well” now for about a month.

Point being (yes I know, I’m rambling – this is my brain right now), it looks like things are going to be getting locked down again real soon, and I am going to lose my fucking mind. Maybe we Mentally Interesting types should get together and make some kind of an online forum or something so we can bitch at each other and not make the poor normally functioning people around us crazy…

Just an idea.

If I can get my head together enough to make it happen, and lockdown really does slam us for another couple of months, maybe I’ll actually do it.

In the meantime, I’m coming back to this blog so I don’t completely go off the deep end, because I already feel better after writing just this little bit here after stewing in my own brain juices all this time. Writing a book and writing in here are two very different things, it turns out. Because I don’t get to let out all the crazy when I’m writing for public, publishable consumption, turns out.

Anyway. So I’m back now. Slowly clawing my way out of this dismal pit of my own emotional sludge. It’s become kind of like this nasty, subterranean sewage system that hasn’t been flushed out in weeks. I really need my writing to get it all moving so I don’t drown in my own shit.

Nobody else in the world might ever read this absurd spewage but me, but that really doesn’t matter. It’s what’s keeping me alive right now.

Well, that and my two cats would be sad and the neurotic feral one would possibly die without me. It ain’t much, but that’s what I got right now.

I’ll be back tomorrow.

#brain cooties #aspd #mental illness #mentally interesting #schizoaffective #grief #covid crazy #take your meds

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