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

More Mental Malaise, Less Donald Trump

I’m Really Scared — October 7, 2019

I’m Really Scared

I don’t know why they haven’t sent out a message to renew my lease. My lease expired October 4th, and I’ve read state law prevents landlords from not renewing leases without 30 days notice BEFORE the lease expires. I’m still scared though, and what if they hike it up since last year’s hurricane destroyed cheaper apartments in the region.

They’re rolling out a new form of Medicaid, and one wrong choice could ruin my special assistance I get from Medicaid. I’d call my social worker, but I can’t stand that woman. I called Medicaid and they’re going to send me a form to stay on “direct Medicaid,” because I have “behavioral health issues.” ‘Behavioral Health’ sounds twice as bad to me as ‘mental health, but what do I know?

Then what really upsets me is I get roped in to watching my ‘friend’s’ 4 dogs for 2 weeks while she goes to Nova Scotia.She never bothered to tell me it would be 2 weeks instead of one, how much bus money she’s leaving me, who do I contact in emergency. I doubt unless she gets an international plan, I could contact her, and she doesn’t want me to sully her Facebook with my presence. So yeah, I get 2 weeks of Diverticulitis Poppy shitting up my friend’s house with her loose excrement everywhere and Dudley the smelly shitzu who won’t stop licking my face no matter how many times I push him away. The two other dogs are fine, as is her cat.

OK kids, here’s a helpful hint: If someone used to be your mental health nurse wants to be your friend later, she may be planning on using you. I should have known years ago when this first happened that it’s never my charming personality.

I can’t handle all of this at once. The uncertainty of everything.

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Isolation — September 10, 2019

Isolation

For all intents and purposes, I’m becoming a hermit cat lady. I’m trying to get out every day or so, go to the Y or a store. It keeps me from depression. I look for validation now online or from the people paid to endure me. My friend is tired of me, and in some ways, it’s a relief. I don’t have to hear about being brain damaged, or ‘retarded,’ or whatever else she comes up with. I don’t have to be derided for my actions. Besides, there’s still everyday people who will let me know they think I’m slow.

I was at Dollar General the other day. No one was at the counter, so I flipped open a National Enquirer and waited for someone to notice me. A guy came up behind me and he got the person to ring us up. I said something like “OK” to answer the cashier about something, and I hear him echo/mock me. As I’m leaving, I hear him still amused by me, saying, “You’ll never find a more patient customer.” Hardee har. Drop dead.

My Best Friend Hates ‘My Art’ — April 8, 2019

My Best Friend Hates ‘My Art’

Really, it doesnt matter what form my dollar store level of creativity forms. She will take the proverbial knife through anything.

Bloggers to her aren’t writers and I’m mediocre at best ( she’s right about me, but I do OK)

My Youtube videos are ‘moronic.’ I was really hurt when she told me that. I took up Youtube when I was running low on purpose and pawing my way out of a severe depression. I don’t show her my videos much anymore.

i made the mistake of showing her an Instagram video I surreptitiously filmed today. A few scenes of the 45 second vid were being shot on the ground so as not to film people. “Am I supposed to be entertained by cement?” she asked. I felt instant shame. I had sent it to someone else who I’m afraid is just going to think I’m an idiot.

Anyway, hope your endeavors are going better than mine. I’ll leave you with a photo I took while I was out and about yesterday.

Ultimate ‘Cat Lady Chic’

Left Behind — March 31, 2019

Left Behind

This is going to be one of THOSE posts. What could you possibly mean, Lisa? You’re always so damn entertaining.

One of those posts.

Oh, one of those emo posts where you bitch and moan about the world, Lisa. Yeah, I’m out; or, at least I would be if I weren’t you.

I’m noticing something of late. I must not be a particularly fun person to be around, as no one in my circle of 1.5 friends wants to actually hang out with me. Friend 1 never feels it’s worth her time to go 5 minutes out of her way to pick me up to go somewhere with her. She must not enjoy my society much at all, and I keep wondering if it wasn’t for the fact we both feed the strays by a doctor”s office if she’d extract herself completely. She threatens to leave me with no friends occasionally when she gets exasperated.

Friend .5 only contacts me when she wants something. And she’s given to telling small lies, but it makes me a little nervous, because in my past liars have caused me problems. She even goes by a different name to her inner sanctum. I’m sure it’s because of a painful past, but I’m still wary. I know she wouldn’t intentionally hurt me, and has helped me a few times.

Friend 0 and I haven’t talked in months, but even if we did talk it would be a one-sided convo. If she really needed something, I’d help her out since we’ve known each other since we were 15. She did something to me it would be hard to forgive. I think and hope she knows I’d never do what she accused me of doing. If I had to guess who did it, my guess would be one of the people she unintentionally made enemies with during the hurricane. Someday she may contact me out of necessity or loneliness.

I just felt the need to vent. Thanks for listening.

Misery and Despair — February 16, 2019

Misery and Despair

She’s my only friend who exists on this side of the screen and I don’t want to lose her. But about 3 days ago, she began ripping me to shreds again just as bad as she’s ever done. She stopped awhile when I was in a deep depression, but now it’s back in full swing just as I was crawling out of my hole. Everything that could possibly get to me:

  • Lazy retard
  • My videos are moronic
  • I’m a ‘train wreck’
  • I’m neglectful of the strays

I’m just laying here miserable and worthless. I threw things, screamed, and just had a total meltdown alone. Then my fucking sorry POS self crawled into bed.

She can be so nice, but I know the slightest thing will set her off. For instance, New Year’s Eve. I forgot to tell her which Dollar General I was at because there are two near me. She made me wait two hours to pick me up in a sketchy area and berated the shit out of me while waiting. And when I’m that upset, I meltdown. The cashier at DG knew. She could see that I was bawling outside, loud anguishing sobs I could barely control. My friend came and had us eat at a restaurant there that she knows I don’t like to go to because the manager thinks I’m trash. I really wonder if I have autism because I totally lose my shit sometimes loudly. My therapist doesn’t think so because I crave relationships with other people.

It’s the Dependent Personality Disorder part of me that will take her shit and not lash out back for fear of being completely alone. I don’t want anyone living with me or making my decisions for me unless I ask, but I don’t want to be alone either. I’d have no one. Honestly, if she lost me, she’d be pretty much alone, too.

She says I have no ambition, but in my heart of hearts, I want to write a blog and articles that people read. I want to become known on YouTube and actually be liked for being a “train wreck,” i.e being myself. I want to feel loved. I want to matter just enough to be worth my skin. I want to help someone.

Oh, and if that wasn’t enough, I got a short form disability review. I’m always afraid of losing my benefits, becoming homeless, and dying in an alley. So, I need to call my therapist first thing Monday. I think I need a squeeze in.

Back in 2012, I was in a mental hospital. I guess things could be worse.

My Lyft Driver is Related to Me — February 8, 2019

My Lyft Driver is Related to Me


The strangest thing happened to me on the way to the shrink. I think my Lyft driver is related to me through marriage.

I was running late, like super late. It was 12:30, and I was supposed to be at the shrink’s at 12:30. I took too long in the bath. I called the shrink’s office, the anxiety in my voice making my already child-like voice pitch up three times higher. I told the receptionist I was running late, was on my way, and I’d be there in 10 minutes. Please don’t hate me. Please don’t hate me, kept going through my head.

I usually take Uber when in need of a cab, because it’s cheaper. This day, however, Lyft ran a special, so I ordered a Lyft.

My Lyft driver was really nice. I could tell straight off he was gay, as there was a slight lilt in his southern accent (don’t be mad I said that, OK?). He knew exactly where we were going, too, Shrinks ‘R Us. He’s been here before, that voice in my head said.

“Which way do you want to go to get there, because that road goes straight there,” he asked.

“Whichever way you think is best, sir.”

He was an affable guy, and we did the usual cab conversation in our short drive. I asked him how long had he been driving for Lyft.

“Two years. I got laid off from my job, but I just finished my degree, so hopefully that will be able to get a job in that.”

I asked him how long he lived here and he told me he was originally from Boone, but had lived here for 11 years.

“Boone?” I said, excited. “I was born in Boone!” That started the conversation. I told him how my family hailed from a little area on the state line, an area only people from that area in the NC mountains know. He knew exactly where I was talking about. Exactly. 

So, I told him every family name I knew about. It turns out his family may be related to mine by marriage. My second cousin Diane married someone with his surname. It may have been one of his father’s 15 siblings. I’m not joking.

I told him I only lived there for the first two and a half years of my life. Mom wanted out. “Everyone talked about everyone there and were very judgmental,” I said.

“That’s the truth,” he said.

I was sad when the ride ended. Here I am, Lisa, who sometimes almost forgets she’s a member of the human race, sitting in a car with someone linked to my family. It was positively surreal. I took a good look at him before I left, which is different for me, as I rarely look at people.

I haven’t seen a relative since my mother died in 2011. I didn’t tell him that my family disowned me. Maybe it was my mom, and then by default, me, they tossed in the garbage. They knew I was different, and didn’t want to be saddled with me, too.

When I got home from Shrinks ‘R Us, I looked up my kinsman on Facebook. Fortunately for me, his Facebook is open. My assumptions were right and then some. Yes, he is gay. Yes, he no doubt has been to Shrinks ‘R Us, because he’s severely depressed. I wish I could friend him, but I won’t because that would be super creepy of me.

I wonder if his family disowned him too. It is highly likely, if they’re like the remaining members of my side of the family. ‘Gay’ would be up there in unpardonables. Next to being a democrat and interracial marriage. I wish there was something I could do for him.

Pillgrim’s Progress — July 17, 2018

Pillgrim’s Progress

Recently, I got a new nurse practitioner for my psych meds.  She seems nice enough: mid-fifties, doesn’t seem burned out, doesn’t feel it necessary to speak  to me as though I were a dim-witted 10 year-old, so I like her just fine. Julie has some experience with OCD sufferers according to her blurb on Google, and she seized on the fact that I was still sub par. Always anxious and paranoid of everyone in my neighborhood,  I’m just a regular Ms. Congeniality. She wanted to try me on Risperdal or Zyprexa, and decided on the former.

when I finally had the courage (and my $3.00 Medicaid co-pay) to try it, I looked upon the tiny brick-red pills with a mixture of trepidation and  psycho hope. This could be my missing link to making life worth living! Maybe I can be normal now or fake it. Maybe I can stop hating myself  and having  ideation pop into my head.

The risperdal has helped some. I feel less terrified around my neighbors.  I think a medication would have to put me in a coma, however, to stop me from checking  the front door for an angry missive or an eviction notice twice a day. I still feel like I could lose everyone and everything I love in an instant. Everyone I love dead in a pile like Hamlet.

Sometimes my depression just  slaps me when I least expect it. Sometimes I regurgitate everything in my head. I hate being a  sub-standard person. I sometimes feel like festering trash of the

red pills in person s hand
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

caucasian variety.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

, and se

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.

September Wretched — September 9, 2015

September Wretched

September 13th will mark the fourth anniversary of my mother’s death. The other day I was at one of the hallowed shrines to my mother and a mecca to my obesity: Wendy’s. We  used to go there at least once a week with an elderly couple I’ve since lost touch with. It’s strange  to go somewhere that hasn’t changed any since 2011 (except for the price ).  Were today September 9th, 2011, my mother would be at home barely able to walk, slowly painfully succumbing to her fate. Had she gone to the hospital the 9th instead of the 12th would she be alive today?

Death and misfortune are everywhere. Saturday I was returning from the beach and happened to look out the window of the bus and a man was having chest compressions started by first responders.  He must have had a heart attack on the way to the beach on Labor Day weekend. How cruel. It’s strange to see someone dying when you already experience foreboding in September. September: the death of summer, the death of unconditional love when my mother died,  September 11th anniversary, my estrangement from the rest of my family, and the end of my friendship with my gay lying friend.

Even when the sun is shining, the world seems dark. I may have gained my independence September 24, 2015 when I moved into my own apartment for the first time, but I am still bound to what the world outside thinks of me. There are very few people you can truly trust when the world thinks you’re dense. I’m tired of my many failures. My mind is drowning in my inability to be what everyone wants me to be, even with what I want me to be. 

I wonder when it will be my turn with the CPR. Hamburgers and red meat are my drug of choice. I don’t want to die, but 2 for $5.00 Big Macs at McDonald’s are crack to me, and you got to take whatever small pleasures you can in this life. God, what do they put in that special sauce?

Ever Wonder What Would Happen if They Gave Me Abilify? — August 31, 2011

Ever Wonder What Would Happen if They Gave Me Abilify?

The OCD Project
Image via Wikipedia

…My first diary-style entry at my other blog is what! To summarize, I went on Abilify, an anti-psychotic,  to try to help my OCD and depression. Results after one dose? Comedy gold, of course! And a little promise of “never again.” But please see my post. http://ocdbloggergirl.com/2011/08/31/1459/

Other incidentals : Hurricane Irene shook our hand, but didn’t punch us like it did elsewhere. Signs and tree branches mainly here. Any pleasant adrenaline rush that I would get normally during a hurricane was ruined by me having a terrible cold that I’m just now getting over. Remember how I said at the emergency room felt like “germs were jumping around?” Guess I was right. Three days after visiting, she got sick. Then a few days later, I was laid low too. But anyway, that was a news brief.

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