Ocdbloggergirl's Blog: OCD, Life, and Other Misunderstandings

More Mental Malaise, Less Donald Trump

— February 19, 2018

I am in so much pain right now. I’m trying to hold it back, but I hate myself as much, if not more, than I ever have . I hate myself. Everything about me is wrong.

I’m too fat and ugly. I’m too ashamed of myself to look anyone in the eye.

My voice is that of a child’s, my interests are too childish. I pronounce words wrong. Everything about me is wrong.

My ability to get distracted makes everyone mad. I can’t keep my mind in one place for more than a few minutes and I’m always late .

I walk too slow and I walk strangely because of some birth defect.

I’m lazy and do everything wrong.

My mother failed me, says my best friend. By the time my mom was dead I should have had a car, and a driver’s license, and though I wasn’t trial lawyer material, a job. Mom shouldn’t have made me a disability case (that wasn’t exactly how that happened, but it’s best to just let people paint the picture how they feel). It hurts when someone disparages my mother, who isn’t even alive to defend herself.

I’m having dreams of abandonment. Both my mom and grandma dead in one dream and I’m all alone. I know it was triggered by my friend saying to never speak to her again if I ever don’t look out the window while waiting for her again. I hear a banging on the window and there she is. I had been reading, didn’t hear her text, and it was right around the time she said she was getting off…To top it off I had missed a bus which is why she had to pick me up in the first place.

“Don’t expect me to kiss your ass, every time you fuck up!”she says when I later admit why I’m so depressed. She doesn’t even remember threatening to never speak to me again, which just in my mind confirms how worthless I am.

I think I can honestly say that she hangs out with me because she hasn’t found someone better. While she is my everything, I am the best to be had in a town of stupid rednecks.

She’s helped me out so many times and I think she really does care about me, but I keep wanting to ask “why me?” Is there something good about me? Or am I just a loser you hang out with. If I fell off the planet, would anyone care? Am I so easily thrown away?

I just keep imagining being abandoned for being a good for nothing. I really, truly am not good enough for anything or anyone.

Advertisements
Protected: — January 5, 2018
September Update — September 24, 2017

September Update

Bleeping September, but I’m still here, and as charming as ever. Today is the 5th anniversary of me moving in here. Just me, my mom’s ashes in a plastic box, and a laundry basket with what the fellows allowed me to have. The rest was either confiscated or in my storage unit. Oh how exciting it was to me that at 34 I was finally on my own. No one to threaten and lord over me anymore. When you had been through all I had in the expanse of one year being alone completely lost its sting. I missed my ex-roommate for a long time, but he and his drag queen boyfriend had become menacing monsters to me.

As of the 13th, it’s been six years since my mom died of sepsis. There’s so much I want to tell her, but  I am happy to be on my own as much as I loved her. I really want to tell her about Donald Trump, about everything that’s happened. She wouldn’t believe me.

This December, I will be turning 40. One of the things I regret most in the world, besides being an asshole, is not jumping at the opportunity to land on the dick of my former elementary school crush. At least I wouldn’t be the dreaded 40 year-old virgin then. The only other people who’ve asked for some were pervs that one couldn’t be sure wouldn’t kill me. Thus is my fate for being ugly and shy. It’s truly a shame, because I think given the opportunity, I could’ve been adventurous, and I’ll leave it at that.

My therapist gave me the news that her entire office will  be shutting down, and that they don’t even know why. I’m going to hold out for a while before I look for replacements for my therapist and shrink in the hopes that they will  find another situation. It has nearly taken 3 years for me truly to start trusting Pepper. I am not big on change and I know it will be hard to set up a rapport with someone new.

It didn’t take any act of congress this year to get my new lease signed.  This is really a funny thing because my neighbor across the street had me convinced that management was conspiring to get me. People allegedly think I have 16 cats and that either the cats or me had to go. I feed several strays in my neighborhood, so that is likely how it all started. But , I surely believed my neighbor, especially since the kids of the ‘hood kept picking on “Cat Lady.” I suppose I should have found her suspect when she postulated that someone swimming in the ocean had caused the mold stains on the pool, that it was actually salt water algae. First of all, can salt water algae live in freshwater, let alone chlorinated water? Truly rumors suck, and I must remember not to believe that dotard across the way (thanks, Kim Jong Un). My mind always conjures up scenes of being homeless or in a home. People don’t get how obsessed I am with that, and they can’t understand unless they have been through something similar.

IMG_20170824_210021

— September 6, 2017

And in case you weren’t aware, it’s still fucking September. I came out of it a little today, saw the light  at the end of the tunnel, but that flashlight’s battery died. I thought I lost the antibiotics  my friend gave me for a stray cat, and I just knew I was dead until I found them. She’d never have forgave me that one. She’s already said I belonged in an assisted living for not having worried about that cat enough. I am worried about him. But I’m twice s worried for myself. Virtually everyone thinks I’m a piece of shit anyway. Having the dentist declare I needed a root canal didn’t bother me, the thought of a hurricane slamming my town barely causes me unease, but God forbid I mess up with that cat. I will feel a little more at ease when my lease is signed,but I wish I could excise all the anger And Upset I feel. I wish I could feel like I’m worth the space I take up.

Summertime and the Living is Sleazy — July 28, 2017

Summertime and the Living is Sleazy

Everything is going along awesomely adequate. I’m avoiding the elementary school bastards who keep calling me “Cat Lady” by going to my apartment pool earlier in the day. I’m swimming everyday, and while I doubt I’m losing much weight, maybe it will tack on a week or two to my life. I’ve gone to the beach a couple of times and the impressive community pool when our pool wasn’t open. I finally got a reduced bus pass, so that I can go more places and live more life in our redneck paradise. I dread autumn, but hopefully I will get a membership at the YWCA for the winter. I cooked out for the second time in my life and didn’t burn down the joint, so  I’d say that was a win too.

On a sadder note, I lost my Dondee. His health began to go downhill around March and July 5th his heart just stopped. He didn’t even have time to hide and he had been acting as normal as his “new normal” was. He was the closest to my mother and the sweetest cat I ever knew or will ever know. He is buried next to his brother, Phillippe who I lost in May of last year. Both were around age 15.

1977373_10202658239954644_1352549077_n
Dondee is the smaller black cat The other black cat is Phillippe. The calico is Lil Mookie. Ca. 2014

 

 

I still wonder if all my neighbors and management have it out for me. They might, or they might not, but then again they might. That is my number one obsession now. My second major obsession if you don’t count fear of angering everyone, is what is happening in Washington, DC. I’m afraid the other shoe will drop faster than you can say, “McCain is a douchebag.” I imagine block granted Medicaid, cuts to disability, being homeless and unprepared for life without the dole. I’m being honest. I don’t know if I could hold down a job with my problems, or if I’ll crash and burn.

Speaking of problems and buses, waiting for the bus one day downtown, I met a man with schizophrenia. He asked me when his bus would come and proceeded to tell me he’d just got out of prison after 22 years  for killing a man and that Jesus killed people all the time. I wasn’t really scared of him, though I bet he could have been telling the truth about being locked up. Who knows. I was glad when we went our separate ways.

Hope you’re having a great summer or winter wherever you are!

— June 13, 2017

I can’t keep going on like this. I’m not suicidal, just pathetic. I can think everyone is fine with me and then a text. It happened twice in 24 hours. Two different people. I can’t take this thinking everything is fine and then  angry texts. They happen in such sneaky places. On the bus, by the pool. When you least think you’ve done something wrong. I’m starting to be afraid to look. The last one really did me in though. I’d been over at a friend’s house taking care of her while she was sick. I thought I’d done everything right. I went and checked on her bird and played a game on her PC because her internet wouldn’t connect. She never hot mad at me before for being on her computer when I sat with her bird.

Apparently I left the game running and she blamed me for the internet not working. She enjoined me not to fuck with her computer when I’m over there again. Maybe normal people wouldn’t get as upset as I did, but I thought I’d gone out of my way to help her and this is how she repays me. Not long before, maybe a week ago, she had called me a “fucking idiot” and there’s still a bad taste in my mouth from swallowing that down. I told my therapist that standing up for myself only gets me in worse trouble.

I’m just lying here wishing I’d never wake up. I’m such a failure. I hear teens call me at the pool “the old lady” and and the kids, “the cat lady.” They rarely  talk to me, which is fine, less entanglements less trouble. I don’t think people even see me as a real person.

Dependent Evermore — May 17, 2017

Dependent Evermore

I like to blame my mother for my personality disorder. She’s dead, so she won’t take it personally; besides, it’s traditional in psychiatry. My father, the drunken spermatozoa, no doubt helped, but I never met him.  His absence gives him a free pass, and he is also dead. I suppose I could blame God for making me of a species that desires companionship. The fact that I’m human sometimes makes it hard to distinguish the blur between pathology and normalcy.

If you turn back time to the 2010-2011 me documented on this blog, my life and strife was my mother. I wish she were still with me. I miss her unconditional love very much. There are no substitutions. Everyone else pales in comparison. BUT. She didn’t prepare me for this world. Maybe it was that I was her only child, but she insisted on doing everything for me, and if she didn’t, I probably asked her to do it for me. Maybe it was the two years I completely isolated myself from people my own age, ages 13-15, and I just never caught back up socially.

What’s the point of this post? Besides killing time waiting for the maintenance guy to put some freon in my air conditioner, I guess it’s just to say that I’m miserable, and thought I’d bring everyone along for the kill-joy ride. My main problem, besides it being 85 degrees in my apartment, is my fear of my friend abandoning me. I got really upset over the weekend, she berated me, which made everything far worse, so I stayed in be for a couple of days. I fed the strays by my house, but I didn’t feed the strays by a doctor’s office.. I think those cats get fed everyday, or virtually everyday by the doctor, but it was still bad of me not to go. She won’t forgive me and I feel lost without her. I just feel terrible and weepy. I feel like life is hopeless without  her, and that’s probably my personality disorder. We talked all the time and she’s virtually withdrawn from me. It’s driving me crazy like when my ex-roommate (ca. 2012, for those of you following along at home) would give me the cold shoulder.

Depression — April 7, 2017

Depression

In the principle of  maintaining truth on this blog, I will describe the world as I see it at the moment. Spring is trying to wrestle  the last unkind vestiges of  her sister Winter. The sun laboriously tries to pierce through the thickening clouds. The harsh wind smacks bare skin.

I hide inside the Taco Bell across from  my therapists office,  copping from the dollar menu. My mom’s ghost no longer follows me in this restaurant. The  garish uncomfortable booths have been toned down to more earth tones, wood color. Is she watching hr almost entranced  daughter. Not good enough, mom. Never ever. I almost cried at the therapist. She never hears me, but I’m sure my neighbor  hears. Loud, child tears. Everything  is wrong and as long as I avert my eyes people may not see the worthless mass of life that continues breathing within me.

Food Bankrupt — March 27, 2017

Food Bankrupt

Among my greatest vices is gluttony. Though I’m a picky eater, I will eat what I do like to excess. Pray, remember this as I confess what a piece of scum I am.

Last Monday, aware that I had 17 dollars between me and the end of the month, my hands got a little too sticky at the food bank I go to. I took two packs of turkey cold cuts (first bad) and I tried to take two pizzas, seeing as no one else had grabbed it, which made the curator of the edibles go off on me. “We’re supposed to share. If you need something else, get some fruit outside.”

So yes, I was totally in the wrong, but my pride keeps saying, she shouldn’t go off on me because there was plenty of food for everyone. Needless to say, i feel much chastened, and horribly embarrassed. I almost wish to eschew going for a long time, but I would like more food than what I have on hand. If I don’t go, it’s turkey sandwiches and ramen noodles until Friday, which are very edible,  but, they have such good fare there. I will just be humble and wait until everyone has cleared out of the section, so hopefully I will not get too much.

The food comes from area stores, and the food bank started mainly for homeless people, but they let people from my therapist’s office go. Truthfully, I don’t think any of the people are actively homeless, but what do I know? Not all homeless people look like Lloyd from Black Jesus.  I think, however, all of them are from worse circumstances than my  situation. I overheard one woman say to another, “I’d take these apples if my oven was working.” So yes, I suck. As long as I have something to eat, and more importantly, my cats have something to eat, I’m straight. But I do crave all those desserts and delicacies that they have, so I will swallow my pride. Ugh, I sometimes act like I grew up in a barn. Sorry, Mom. 

J0z3IzNb9DI.maxresdefault

Image from Google Play

 

 

Blogoversary the 7th — March 24, 2017

Blogoversary the 7th

Still here. Though not prolific,  I’ve been at this for 7 years now. God willing, I will keep at this blog until incapacity or death takes me out. I was 33 when I started, and will be 40 in December. I sometimes read back on my old posts. Lisa, circa 2010, was such a different person from Lisa 2017. In some ways, I truly feel my writing reached its apex in the first two years here (while my mom was still around, my biggest supporter). I sometimes find myself writing stuff worthy of Lisa 2011, but it is what it is. Had you told me during the course of this novel , that my mom would croak, I’d end up living with a drag queen and a pathological liar, end up in a mental  hospital, live in a nursing home for a couple of months, and finally come to living alone in an apartment complex I had lived in when I was 8 years-old… Well, I’d have been horrified to say the least. If you had told me that Donald Trump would be president one day, I’d have believed you were the greatest bullshitter.

I still feel as though I stand on the precipice of disaster at all times, especially now, with Trump and Paul Ryan trying to butcher the dangling safety net. I owe my apartment, medicine,  and healthcare to Medicaid. While I doubt Trump’s “fix” to Obamacare will pass, it’s terrifying to think of block grants. What if taking care of people on disability becomes superfluous? What if one day I’m blogging homeless?

  Here’s to a new blog year that happens to not be catastrophic. Thanks for hanging in there with me!

14681598_10209735718527185_3336339823980494707_n

Kitt O'Malley

Love, Learn & Live with Bipolar Disorder

Kitten Holiday

Writer, Lover, Misfit

Buffalo Tom Peabody's blog 2

The 9 Lives of Buffalo Tom Peabody, Gunther Tootie, Ignatius “IGGY” Rattlebottom-Bunn, Larry "Bubba" Flowers & Doodlesack. NO AWARDS. please.

Engineering, Parenthood, and a Solid Attempt at Adult Status

Roasting veggie dogs on the dumpster fire.

HASTYWORDS

Turning Tears & Laughter into Words

The Boeskool

Jesus, Politics, and Bathroom Humor...

Skinny and Single

Single and Over 40 and Not Suicidal About It

Robert Scoble's Augment Your Life

Helping get ready for the 2020's: when self-driving cars, AI, cryptocurrencies, digital assistants, and XR (Augmented Reality AR / VR) will disrupt us.

Blues Legend

Blues Legend Film

The Charlottesville 29

If there were just 29 restaurants in Charlottesville, what would be the ideal 29?

A Buick in the Land of Lexus

fresh hell trumps stale heaven

The Prince Blog

Idle Hands Are The Devil's Playthings.

emma reads

books + nefarious plots

Step Into The Nightmare

... because a problem shared is your problem now

lynz real cooking

lynz real life

William Chasterson

Examination of the makeup of the human ego and its predictable results.

Elliesofia

In my mind's eye ...

All Mouth, No Spoons

The life and times of a married, foul-mouthed borderline twenty-something. Like my disorder, posts will always vary!

thesixfootbonsai

A Soul Lost in the Land of the Rising Sun

promisesunshine

Just another WordPress.com site

Read at Midnight

where words light up the night

Bipolar Bandit

If you want to know more about bipolar disorder, other mental illnesses and/or mental health advocacy, you are in the right place.

Perfect Isn't Easy

Life Is A Daily Struggle For Perfection

Jon Rappoport's Blog

NoMoreFakeNews.com

Ted's Adventures in WiFi

Life, reality, and the pursuit of fun

The Macabre Author

Scaring the world, one story at a time.

My Daily Struggles

I am going to make my way in this blog on a metaphorical bridge of thoughts and perceptions from day to day to try to connect the known with the yet unknown. My bridge is like a single plank which will require the supplement of others.

Words and Notion

Words Whipping up Whimsical Waves of Notion

Rational Thinking Web

Live A Life You Will Remember

Blogging Astrid

A Dutch Woman Blogs in English

Knowing the Narcissist

Read and understand all about narcissists from the best source possible. A narcissist himself.

Autistic Alex

Blogging about neurodiversity, psychology and autism research.

busy mockingbird

a messy collection of art projects, crafts, and various random things...

deconstructingdoctor.com

a peek behind the curtain

SERENDIPITY

SEEKING INTELLIGENT LIFE ON EARTH

MuslimGirl.net

Just another WordPress.com site

THE LONDON PRESS

"Information is the negotiator's greatest weapon"....get informed..

Logical Quotes

Logical and Inspirational Quotes

Ethan Michael Carter

Live More Than You Exist ®

polysyllabic profundities

Random thoughts with sporadically profound meaning

Dances With Fat

Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness are Not Size Dependent

%d bloggers like this: