irritated

Word Vomit | Too Hopped Up on Drugs

So, 3 years ago I went through a pretty massive mental breakdown and despite the years of therapy I was in for my anxiety I made the choice I told myself I would never give in to — I got prescription drugs to help me cope with my sudden spike in anxiety because my marriage at the time was pretty much imploding on itself.

And you know, it wasn’t so bad. I mean adjusting sucked but besides that, it helped me achieve that sense of relief and calmness I needed to stop my mind (and my heart rate) to feel like it was trying to out dubstep each other each morning and night (which believe me, sucks up a lot more energy than you’d think on a daily basis). It helped me control my anger and my emotions and allowed me to get into meditation a little easier until I felt like I didn’t need the help of drugs as much anymore (though I still took Zoloft on a regular basis, I didn’t take Colozo as often anymore).

Fast forward to like a year or two ago; I started dating someone new who I *thought* at the time was a *decent* person. But turned out to be seriously awful as fuck. He forced me quit my meds cold turkey by force and that resulted in 3 months of withdrawal symptoms that he cared nothing about but watched me suffer and throw up constantly. So I’ve been without meds for almost 2 years now.

Fast forward to now — he took back my iPhone and my PS4 along with all the “stuff” he’s been so desperately been trying to get from my apartment that he left here (which turned out to be a snowboard, two speakers he never even wanted, a jar of rice, a throw pillow and 3 dvd’s). He’s been trying to find a reason to get INTO my apartment for MONTHS after I told him that he’s not allowed in my home EVER AGAIN. Yet he still kept trying to find reasons to come to my front door. I told him I’d leave his stuff at the front office so he wouldn’t have a reason to get through the gate but argued with me that I was being “irresponsible” for not giving him the stuff he left here back. Not to mention he didn’t even SAY anything about it until 3 months after he left and when he found out I was flying out to Texas to hang out with my new boyfriend. Clearly he didn’t care about his stuff THAT much if he NEVER SAID ANYTHING FOR THREE MONTHS. But yet, I’m the bad guy. As always. Okay. Makes sense. I guess.

But apparently now he’s telling my roommate that I did nothing around the apartment we lived in together (even though all he did was complain, trash the place and failed to do the only TWO chores I ever asked him — take out the trash and clean the cat liter), didn’t pay rent, didn’t pay bills, didn’t buy groceries, didn’t even pay for his own gas even though he was the one working (4 hours a day for 4 days a week but whatever) because I was too hopped up on drugs all the time.

Uhm… what drugs?

I’ve never been prescribed Xanax. I never had Zoloft in that apartment and the only thing I had was a bottle of Colozopam that I couldn’t even find until after I moved out of that apartment. But apparently those two drugs make you into a zombie that makes it so that you lay around doing nothing, right? Yeah, that’s TOTALLY what those two drugs do. I don’t see where people get their info from considering it’s not from doctors and they don’t give a shit enough to Google things. They just make up some sort of excuse or reason for things and RUN WITH IT into a fuckin wall because it makes no damn sense.

To which my roommate countered saying that I finish her laundry for her and fold her pants for her when I put them in her laundry bin when they’re done and place them in her room, I clean the kitchen, I make sure the cats have food and water, I do the dishes when she works too much and try and make sure the place is as clean as my anxiety allows me to.

Thanks Harmony <3.

To which he had no response for.

He also dared to say he missed my cat Sophie and how much he loved her. Except he would grab his cat Jane by her neck (I wouldn’t call what he did scruffing because she was clearly yelping for help), throw her on the couch and scream at her when she did any little bad thing.

But I. FREAKIN. GUESS.

I know I shouldn’t let it bother me. People will always pick and choose things about you to say to other people to make you look bad and them look good. Doesn’t mean it’s true. And even if they do tell others, the people who KNOW YOU (and the people who should MATTER) know better and know the real story. So the fact he’s going around saying things like that shouldn’t matter. Everyone knows what I do and what I don’t do. I don’t need to justify or defend myself. Not to mention he’ll tell anyone who listens that his mom has a “severe mental illness” when in reality she has anxiety and she just keeps to herself.

You can tell a lot about a person by what they say about their mama.

My blogs and social media are a timeline of my every day life. Go ahead, tell people this and that. But that’s not what the time stamps on my social media say.

Fuckin idiot.

So much anxiety, for such a small thing

I know I’m suppose to be doing my weekly recap but this week has just been… kinda awful.

My apartment has been taken over by fruit flies? House flies? I don’t even know but they’re fuckin everywhere and driving me fuckin nuts. My roommate left banana’s to rot on the counter and it attracted what feels like a whole planet of them. They’re all over my kitchen, living room and a good handful in my room.

I hate bugs in my home.

I HATE THEM.

It makes my OCD go CRAZY.

It makes my anxiety act up.

And now I’m dealing with the physical side effects of it all.

And I just want to cry. I just want to bury my head under my pillow, under my blankets and just SOB until I CANT BREATHE ANYMORE.

That might sound dramatic but you tell me how you’d feel when it feels like EVERY SINGLE NERVE YOU HAVE is on edge and you just feel like trashing the whole place and sobbing because your anxiety is driving you fuckin nuts.

I try SO HARD to keep this place as clean as I can and as bug free as I can. I pay SO MUCH damn money for this place and it just ANNOYS me when things like this happen. I’ve incredibly anal about keeping things tidy and prompt and clean and THIS is why I didn’t want a roommate. This is why I NEVER want one. Because I KNOW I can be anal about these things and I know I want things done MY WAY so why bother with disappointment and other people when I already KNOW these things about myself?

I wish I just had moved back to WC. I wish I had never left Orlando in the first place. And I can wish that — a million times for a million days but it’s not going to bring back, replace or erase the things that have already happened and the stupid choices I had already made.

I can sit here and wish that THAT year and a half NEVER HAPPENED as hard as I want to but had it not had happened I would had never found the friends and family I had found on FFXIV.  I would had never found Penny. I would had never found the strength I do have now because of it. Despite the price it cost me.

I’m just so upset and so sad right now.

I try so hard to keep this place as clean and as bug free as I can.

I try so hard to keep things tidy within what my anxiety lets me.

I feel like falling apart right now.

I know it’s not my fault and all this and that but it is MY HOME and even if people can’t do their part there’s no sense in getting mad at them or yelling at them about it. It’s just sad that they can’t.

On top of that Nick said earlier this week that he was going to bring my camera and drop it off at the front desk. He hadn’t said anything all week and so I text him today about it and he asks when am I gonna be home then he says that he didn’t bring it and he didn’t drive down to Orlando himself.

THEN WHY DID YOU ASK WHEN I’LL BE HOME. WHY COULDN’T YOU SAY YOU WEREN’T GONNA BE ABLE TO BRING IT THIS WEEKEND AHEAD OF TIME.

WHY.

WHY ARE PEOPLE SO UGH.

I’m gonna go take a hot bath and try to chill the fuck out for the rest of the night.