Just when I thought that I could pick myself up off the ground and start to improve my life, I get knocked down even further.
It's every step I take, I am pushed back 5 at this point.
How is it possible for anyone to get better emotionally, physically, and mentally that way?
The ending to 2016 was stressful. I hate the fact that the school district I work for decides that they are going to be "helpful" and give us our January paychecks on December 16th instead of the last day of the month like they do the rest of the year. That makes it difficult to pay my bills on time because I have to make that money stretch about 7 weeks instead of 4. And of course, since September I haven't been working the extra hours I had the last 3 years, so I'm out the extra $150-200 a month on my paycheck. To top it off, my insurance went up, so with that and taxes, I'm getting over $400 taken out of my check every month. That makes my take home pay only $100 more than I pay in rent. That's not much at all. So, I ended the year overdrawn, and didn't have any more money deposited until the middle of January (and my dad, bless his soul, still helps me out, and I really need to muster up the confidence to call him to thank him), but it all was gone immediately between the amount I was overdrawn and the remaining bills I had to pay. And here we are at the end of January, and I'm overdrawn, again, for the 5th month in a row...
Bring on the mental breakdown!
I'm dead serious. Put yourself in the same position that I am in and you would have a mental breakdown too!
I finally lost it this week. Thursday was the day the world felt like it crashed down on me. But let me back track a little again to explain some more of the push towards my mental breakdown.
I finally got in to see a dermatologist to have my hundreds of moles looked at, but more specifically a few ones in particular that had been either bleeding or looked very suspicious to me. January 5th I had my first appointment with the dermatologist. He looked at the few that I had suspicions about and was very thorough. That made me much more comfortable than the last derm I saw back in 2012. That guy just took a glance at a few moles, and said "oh they look fine" and that was that. This new derm had a magnifier that he used to look at a couple of my larger moles. He decided that it would be a good idea to remove one of my largest moles to have it tested, just to be on the safe side. He was confident that it would come back benign. So that day, he removed the mole on my left collar bone; one that I had since birth, and that had grown to be at least almost two centimeters tall, and was about a centimeter in circumference.
For the next 24 hours after that I was hyperventilating, not wanting to remove the bandage at all, and not wanting to look at the "hole" left on my collar bone from this mole that had been a play thing for all three of my kids when they were babies. It took two weeks for the results to come back, and I was on pins and needles until the office called me to tell me the results came back benign, just like the derm thought they would. That day, I sort of waltzed into work on a cloud, but that quickly dissipated when I thought about the next appointment I was going to have where he would check ALL my remaining moles on my body.
Three weeks after my first appointment, on January 19th, I had my second appointment. This one was longer, since he had a lot to look over. I pointed out a few more spots that I had that concerned me, but not as much as the first bunch. He decided to remove 4 more that day.
FOUR. 4.
#1 was on my right arm. It was a small one, but was darker than the rest of them, and something about it made him pause... so he said "Let's remove that one to get it tested, although I'm fairly sure that it will come back benign like the first one did. Better be safe than sorry." He used a punch method to remove this one because of the size.
#2 was on my scalp, on the right side. This one has been around for who knows how many years. Many a hair dresser has caught it in their combs, and then promptly squealed, "Oh I'm so sorry!! I didn't mean to hurt you!" to which I replied, "That's quite ok, I'm used to it by now." And yes, I might have been used to it, but there were too many times when I was combing my own hair, and the comb punctured the mole. :( Sometime it hurt too. I just can't explain what it felt like, but it was, to put it lightly- annoying. I think because of my descriptions of the numerous times it has been caught in my comb or the hairdresser's comb, and how it just didn't feel right sometimes, he made the decision to remove it as well. For this one he used the scrape method, which basically he just took a razor and cut it off and then scrapped off the remaining pieces to hopefully prevent it from growing back. He did the same with the one on my collar bone at the first visit.
#3 was on my right foot, between my big toe and my second toe. It was a new mole, and had grown shockingly large for the small space it was in. By new, I mean, I became aware that it was there approximately sometime during this 8mo to a year. I KNOW it wasn't there before. I mean, I'm a little ocd about my toenails, and like to clean them every day, so I think I would know what my foot is supposed to look like. Just the fact that it was so new made him suspicious of it too, so it was also removed. He also used the punch method on this one. He wanted to make sure he got the entire thing out.
#4, the last one, was on my left thigh. It was another larger mole, and I was suspicious of it because of how many times I've had scabs come off of it, and I didn't think it looked good. This was was also the scrape method. I probably should look up the correct term, but I'm just too lazy to do that extra work. Scrape works because that's what he was doing. As he was looking over the rest of my legs, he kept coming back to that one and looking at it closer with his magnifier. His words: "There's something about this one that I don't like. It's got good symmetry, but the color is a little off. It's darker than the other's with the similar qualities. There's just something about this one I don't like."
Cue heart palpitations.
A few minutes after marking the spots he was going to remove, he left, so the nurse could start numbing me up. I'm definitely NOT good with needles. They make my blood pressure rise. :( So I had to take deep breathes and try and steady my breathing while she repeatedly stabbed me with a couple needles full of numbing medicine. I really wanted to lay down, but I really couldn't because of the one on my head. In all I think it took just a couple minutes for her to finish numbing me. Then a couple minutes (felt like hours though) waiting alone until the derm came back into the room to start. About 10 minutes later, he was finished removing all 4 and I was bandaged up and ready to leave. I had sweated so badly that the stupid paper liner of the bed/seat/(whatever you call it that you have to sit on at the drs office) stuck to my butt and legs. Argh. Took me a little longer to get my clothes back on and my shoe back on. My foot felt strange, as did the rest of my body due to how much numbing medicine I had injected into it. I walked slowly to my car, and sat in there with my eyes closed for about 10 minutes until I started to feel slightly more normal.
I had to go back to work. I didn't want to because I wasn't feeling too good after the procedures, but I didn't have a choice. Ok, not true. I could have called in and said that I had moles removed and I didn't feel too good and needed to go home and rest. However, I didn't feel right in calling in for that. I actually HATE missing any time at work, that's how much I love my job.
So that was on a Thursday. By Saturday, 3 out of 4 of the spots were looking pretty good, and I was actually able to wash my hair and not cause the spot on my head to bleed. The one on my thigh though was not doing so well. It was starting to hurt. I knew it would hurt a bit, and be slightly bruised because of the injections, but this was starting to cause streaks of pain in my leg. My foot hurt, and was showing a nice bruise, but only because of the location and the fact that I couldn't really walk around barefoot so it could get air.
By Sunday, I was limping a lot, and my thigh was throbbing. When I changed my bandaid, the bandaid was almost stuck to my leg. :( The spot was starting to get red around the edge and was not drying up like the others were. I called and left a message with the dermatologist's office on Sunday. Then I called again Monday morning the minute I got to work. The answering service told me that the nurses didn't get in until 8am, but they would leave a message and have them call me back. I waited almost 3 hours and still hadn't heard back from them, so I called again. It was 10:30 am by that time. I finally got to talk to a nurse, and I told her exactly what was going on. After I explained myself, she took a moment then asked if I could come in at 11am. I said, "I'll be there!"
I left work, and went straight to the dermatologist's office, waited 30 minutes for them to actually call me back, then waited a few more minutes for the nurse to come in to see me. All she had to do was look at it and then say she'd give me a prescription for an antibiotic cream to try first, and if after 4 days it wasn't getting better to call back and she'd send to the pharmacy an oral antibiotic.
So, now 6 days after I started using the cream, it looks a lot better, but it's slowly healing. The other three spots are almost completely healed. Well, at least the scabs fell off of two of the spots. My foot hasn't scabbed over yet, but that's partly due to the fact that I can't leave it open to the air while wearing shoes.
Back to Thursday the 26th.
The day I completely lost my mind.
Stress of my worries over my health, combined with the stress of the financial situation, and, dare I say it, THE DAMN PRESIDENCY... and cue one smart alec 16yo daughter = meltdown of the year.
And, dammit, it was only 26 days into the new year.
I was ashamed that she had friends staying over and we didn't have a clean house, or even a full kitchen of food to feed anyone. And I did't have any money in my checking account, savings, or even on my credit card, and only $18 left in food stamps. I'm usually ok on food but this month was a 5 week long month, so I had more month left than my food stamps and money in the bank. Well, we had two packages of pasta, lots of beans, half a package of hot dogs, 1/4 container of butter, and juice that we could work with. Not much at all. But of course, 16yo daughter is picky. Ugh. I told her that I couldn't get more things, especially the things she *wanted* because of how little was left. Then I had to wash some dishes that weren't washed, so she and her friends could eat. There's still dishes that she used that haven't been washed, and I asked her to wash them 4 days ago. I reminded her to wash them before they use anything else. Then I cooked one package of pasta. I told her that I didn't know if it was enough for the three of them, and if she wanted more, she would have to eat it as it was cooked, and not how I usually finish it, because I wasn't feeling too well and didn't want to wash the one pan again just to cook more after they were finished. So of course she had to smart mouth me and say "Fine then, we'll just starve." That did it. I shut off the stove, with the pasta almost finished, and stomped to my room, while muttering to her something that I don't even remember... I was just pissed beyond reason at that point, tired, hungry, sore on my leg and foot, and utterly stressed about the money and food situation. I basically threw a temper tantrum and slammed the door shut and started to bawl on my bed, while I heard her continue to mutter her mouthy words that didn't even register other than "blah blah blah blaaaaahhhh"
Before you condemn me for even allowing her friends to stay over when I knew we didn't have much food in the house, let me tell you that the two friends that were here are her closest friends, and are pretty much here daily no matter what. One of them lives out in the boonies, and waits at our house for her mom to get off work so she can go home with her mom and not be home alone until mom gets home. The other doesn't have a good home situation. Her home situation is worse in that her parents tend to drink a lot. I'm sure there are other things going on that she won't tell me but that's ok. I firmly believe in being a safe place for my daughter's friends to hang out at. They've seen me have other breakdowns, but I think this one was the cream of the crop. :( Despite my instability in keeping sane, I do have a heart, and I'm extremely empathetic for other people. These two girls have been calling me mom for the last 3 years, and I'm glad that they feel comfortable enough with me to show that affection.
With that being said, I stayed in my room for a few hours, crying and feeling sorry for myself... I even posted on Facebook, "Kids for sale. I only ask that you don't fail them like I have."
I'm still feeling wiped out from my meltdown. It's been two days now.
I have so much on my mind, I don't know how to organize it all.
Blogging is one of my stress relief mechanisms. Music is another.
I feel if I don't try and write some of my thoughts down, I'll drown even more.
Even though 2017 started off so fucked up, I'm determined to turn it around and make something of it. At least for myself.
I can't focus on the rest of the country's problems. Otherwise they'll kill me. My empathy is causing me to loose sleep or sleep too much, and that's affecting so much of my life as well.
Don't get me wrong, I'm genuinely scared for the future of this country because there is someone in charge who is visibly more mentally unstable than I am. At this point, I don't even care if I loose friendships over my feelings of this new government, despite the fact I DON'T want to loose any of my friends.
But that's beyond my immediate control.
I have to control myself first before I can do anything.
I'm probably going to read a previous blog post and see that I said the same thing years ago about "this is going to be the year of redemption" or some other similar shit. I've already seen too much of a recurring "theme" in my blog posts since 2006.
I'm just going to continue to have meltdowns and feel shitty about myself unless I sit down and see my dr and ask to be put back on anti depressants.
This time I am going to ask my friends to help me stay accountable and on top of taking my medication to keep myself from getting to the point of no return. And yes, I HAVE thought about suicide, but NO, I have NEVER gotten to the point of actually trying, and I DON'T WANT TO GET THERE! EVER! NEVER! I have watched from far away and close up how that affects the ones you love. I refuse to do that to my friends and family. I am just a message, a phone call, a knock on the door away for my friends that have attempted, and they know I will be there for them to help them get to safety. Now I am asking my friends to do the same for me.
Asking for the help, and talking about what's going on in my mind is an extremely difficult thing to do. I'm usually the type to say, "oh, I'm just tired, what's new, ha ha," and leave it at that when I'm asked how I'm doing. I put on a happy mask when I'm at work because I have to be that way around the kids I work with.
But I'm bone weary of putting on that happy mask. I'm exhausted. I don't want to hide my feelings anymore, but I don't want to have people throw me pity parties either.
I'm writing all of this down so that maybe someone else who is feeling as tired as I am will realize that it's ok to let go and talk about it. It's ok to loose it and go get help. It's the ONLY way to get healthy. Don't do it for anyone else but yourself.
My posts are few and far between because I don't take the time to actually write down my thoughts, and when I do write them down, my posts are extremely long (so forgive any typos I missed. I'm too tired to go back over everything and check for errors like I usually do). I could blog via my mobile device, but it takes way too long to type everything on that tiny screen. I hope to be able to do short updates this year though. We shall see.
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