Lying to Mental Healthcare Professionals

Friday sucked. Actually the whole week sucked. I started the week with weird dreams. That progressed into NO SLEEP Tuesday and Wednesday night. I had to take a literal mental health day on Thursday because I was losing it, and on top of not sleeping I’d spent all week trying to cleanup a schedule that should have been clean. It was genuinely frustrating.

I spend Thursday in bed, and then when the house got too hot to sleep I went to buy shit to make cookies. I don’t bake, but I wanted to make cookies. I made four batches total, two of which were totally inedible because they were overwhelmingly gross and salty, one was fine but dry, and one was legit good. I was kind of listless. I don’t know why I wanted to make cookies. I didn’t want to eat them; I had two cookies from the okay batches and gave the rest to mothership. I just liked making them. I can’t really tell you why.

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I’d been suffering through the side effects of my Abilify. The worst were the hot flashes. I would get REALLY hot, which I’m always kind of hot anyways, and then dizzy and nauseous, and it was just flat out sucked. I’m 28; I didn’t need to get a preview of menopause. So Friday night I debated taking my pill because I was going out. I ended up taking it, because I’m responsible, but I then ended up sweating to the point my friend was concerned for my health and took me home. Let’s not mention that I spent two hours picking an outfit and trying to look cute, or how my makeup melted off my face, or how when I got home I was so disappointed that I cried and went straight to bed.

I emailed my pdoc the next morning, but because it’s Kaiser, she didn’t get back to me till today. In the time between the two events I’ve quit cold turkey… but I didn’t tell her that. It was on accident, really, because Saturday night I went to David’s for an anime night, and forgot to take it before I left. I wasn’t about to take it the next morning… I have played that game and it was too terrible. So, I forgot. Then Sunday was such a good day for me, I just decided not to take it anymore. My pdoc doesn’t know that… I told her I wouldn’t tamper with my meds until I heard from her, but…. I’m tampering.

Saturday was a nice day, though. Mom and I started by taking the dogs to the vet. I was still visibly sad about the night before, but I tried to be in a good mood. The chihuahuas, Bdo & Guy, did great, except that Guy is overweight. Afterwards we took some time apart, and then went to get mani-pedis. It was nice. I got a weird beetle green. And to wrap up mom-time we went to a seafood place and got fried seafood plates.

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That evening I went to D2’s for an anime night. I subjected him to Paprika and Metropolis while we ate $60 worth of sushi (because stoners and fat kids like sushi). It was a lot of fun. We’re having a follow up night on Friday to watch Howl’s Moving Castle and Wizards, which isn’t really anime, but I consider it honorary anime. Bird was supposed to come, but I guess she got wrapped up with other things that feel through, and she essentially slept through it all.

Sunday morning I got up, dressed like a Time Lord and went to the Renaissance Festival with my mom. We stopped at a hat shop, and I finished off my Time Lady look with a nice hat and a flower-tie thing. I wanna make those now… I need to hit Goodwill. And figure out where to buy a sewing kit… We had a lovely day at RenFest and walked until we both thought we were gonna drop.

On the way home we hit the grocery, and I spent the rest of the day not standing.

It turned into a good weekend… but it’s been a trial… not gonna lie.

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Mothership

I’m abnormally close to my mother. Not in a gross way, just in an uncommon way.

After my dad left, things were bad. We were broke. People kept breaking into our house. She lost her job. All kinds of shit just rained down on us from the sky like some cataclysmic plague sent by god. Things got worse and worse, to the point that my mother was selling off our possessions on the side of the road to make ends meet. I even setup my own little stand, at 2 years old, and sold my toys, but I remember it feeling like some kind of game than something dire. Things were bad, really bad, but my mother is the kind of person that made shit work. I never knew things were so bad until I got older.

Things got a little better later. Mom somehow managed to afford my tuition for private school, and a little duplex home. I had a happy childhood, really, but eventually things were bad again. We were strapped.

We moved to another state so that she could get a job and we could have a better life where we didn’t sell all our things to strangers or cut corners on anything and everything. It was a rough start. I remember that we lived in a motel room for a while. That didn’t bother me so much, because after my dad left I started sleeping with her anyways. We eventually found an apartment, but it wasn’t in a good part of town, so I wasn’t allowed to play outside. Instead, I got the master bedroom so I had room to play inside.

Things got better, but not without consequence. Mom finally made enough money to buy a really real house, but landing the sale nearly killed her. Then the overtime she had to work to pay for the house nearly killed her. Also, taking me out of private school nearly killed her. She felt incredibly guilty about the fact that I became a latch-key kid and spent tons of time alone. She’s spent most of my life feeling guilty. Guilty for picking the wrong dad, for not being able to make time, for working too much, for not providing enough, for this, and that, this thing over here…

When I turned seventeen and graduated from high school, she helped me buy the house next door to her, as it was a foreclosure and I kept threatening to move up where the druggies lived: it was all I could afford. The house she’d bought was far too small for me and her to co-habitate (not a word, btw)… At a puny 750 sq ft, we just tripped over each other and got under each other’s skin. We tried to make the house nice, but it never really got there. While it was the most economic thing she ever did for me, I’m not always sure it was our best choice.

I had a house, so I filled it. I filled it with things and pets, and at one point people. In recent years, what was a thing to fill was just became something to hold me back from doing anything. I have too many things. I have too many pets. Somehow I ended up with no people, though. No room for them with all those things and pets.

I never felt like I could move. Moving four dogs and a cat is daunting. Going through all my shit and getting rid of a bunch of it is daunting. More than anything, if I left, I’d leave my mother alone. Most people don’t think twice about that kind of thing, but my mother is single with no family in the state. Really, no family in the world, as the family doesn’t really stay in touch. Her sister is worthless and doesn’t even call to check on her. Mom does have an uncle around her age that checks in on her, but I don’t think she’d like to hang out with him ALL the time.

So leaving would literally leave her here alone. What if something were to happen? It would be my fault. I wouldn’t be here to do anything for her.

But what do you do when you’re not happy?

It’s not a recent thing, but I feel like whenever I talk, my mother gets mad at me. She doesn’t like when I explain thing. She doesn’t like when I tell her fun facts. She seems happier when I don’t know, like she just wants to say something without having things explained to her. It makes me feel like shit, to be honest. I don’t know how to be another way, but my nature seems to irritate her. She’s always accusing me of being agitated just because I’m explanatory and saying I’m getting upset, but I only get upset when I try to tell her something and she just goes, “I dunno.” I AM TELLING YOU. NOW YOU KNOW. WHY DO YOU NOT LISTEN TO ME?!

I’m not sure what to do when I think I’d be better mentally if I were away from her, but can’t bring myself to leave her here alone…