Saturday, May 24, 2008  6:49 a.m.

WARNING — if you are offended by cursing, you should not read this entry

Yesterday was extremely difficult.  I woke up and I was irritable.  And willful (DBT term meaning not open, opposite of willing, not wanting to work on myself, not wanting to listen to advice, not wanting to expose my emotional skin because it hurt so much).  And really judgemental.  Everything was stupid.  And pointless.  And why the fuck did she say that?  And why the fuck are we doing this?  This is dumb.  I hate her.  I hate myself.  I hate everybody. 

So yes, IOP was a bit difficult yesterday.  I didn’t want to do anything and I didn’t want to listen to any of the BULLSHIT that is Friday IOP.  I’m sick and tired of some of the people in the group and I’m sick and tired of that goddamn ARNP that comes in from 11:30-12:00 and talks about how fish oil and exercise in high amounts has been known to “cure depression.”  Stupid bitch.  I know, judgemental. 

If things couldn’t be worse, our mindfulness excercise from 11:00 – 11:30 was playing that dumbass Jenga game…you know, the one where there’s a stack of sticks and you stack them up and try and take one out until it all falls down.  How stupid.  How it related to mindfulness, I couldn’t see.  And I literally refused to participate, said out loud that I didn’t think this dumbass game was relevant to DBT, and sat in the corner and mumbled under my breath the whole time.  Willful.  Judgemental.  Don’t fucking care, it was stupid.  Still judgemental.  And the fucking anxiety…thought I was going to die, and wished it too. 

After IOP, I sat out in the parking lot, shaking mad and irritable and screaming FUCK YOU to the world.  I was totally out of control, totally on the verge of doing something stupid.  I tried to get a fucking coaching call so I could work my way through it and maybe have someone to talk to, since I’d already had 2 mg of Klonopin so far which didn’t seem to be doing the trick.  Couldn’t get a fucking coaching call.  Goddamn therapists.

I went from there to another water garden store in the big city to pick up some stuff for DHut’s water garden store.  Relatively painless.  They had it all ready to go, I signed for it, and they even loaded it into my car.  But the anxiety on the drive back.  It was all I could do to keep my car on the road.

I dropped the stuff off for DHut and then went back to Mom and DHut’s house.  All I wanted to do was numb out.  I didn’t want to do anything productive, couldn’t imagine doing anything productive, or being conscious, awake, my emotional skin on FUCKING FIRE anymore.  I told Mom I was going to lay down and listen to music.  She advised against it, since I’m not supposed to take naps.  And she said that because 1) I told her to keep me on track, and 2) she, along with all of my treaters, don’t think naps do me a bit of good and numbing out doesn’t solve anything.  I didn’t fucking care.  I told her to ignore what I had said for today…that today wasn’t going to be a perfect, on-schedule type of day.  I just couldn’t deal.

So I went and laid on the chaise lounge and listened to music.  I am still stuck on the Curious George soundtrack.  I listened to it for awhile and ended up falling asleep until 4:00, when I had told Mom to wake me up before she left to help DHut at the bait shop (HELLO MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND).  I fell back asleep for another hour, and when I woke up, I was still feeling really irritable and anxious and like I was crawling out of my own skin and every thought stabbed me in the heart.  I didn’t feel like I could deal. 

I called DHut, asking if they needed help (which I was really not in a state to do).  He said they were fine, and later told me that he could hear in my voice that I was not fine and that coming down to that busy-ass shop was not going to be the best.  So I sat around for about thirty minutes, pacing and feeling like shit and feeling MISERABLE and I just didn’t want to be alone.  My thought was that I would go sit in the office in the water garden and mess around on the computer, so I wouldn’t be alone.

When I got there, there were no customers in the parking lot, but DHut said they had just had a big rush.  They were putting up tackle and I was sitting in the bait store, watching them do so and drinking a Diet Pepsi.  All of a sudden, every fisherman in the world decided they needed bait RIGHT FUCKING NOW.  It was just Mom and DHut working, and there were people standing around everywhere needing help.  What I should have done, considering my state of mind, was to either go home or go sit back in the office.

What I did instead was jump in and start waiting on customers.  It was so fucking busy that it was ridiculous.  And I thought I’d just run the cash register for a little bit until the crowd died down, but it didn’t.  And then before I knew it I was catching bait too and having to make small-talk.  And a lot of people fish once a year and they decide to go out on Memorial weekend and do so and they know DICK about bait, keeping it alive, etc.  Then I had some troubles at the cash register and accidentally voided out four dollars and some change when I was supposed to be ringing it up.  In my mind, I had failed.  Totally completely failed.  What a fuckup, stupid, dumb thing to do…I have a college degree and I fucked up the cash register.  So I left.

I sat in the parking lot and did a coaching call with J.  Thank God she picked up.  I was hysterical, crying, feeling like I just wanted to die right at that very moment, that I wasn’t ever going to feel better, and it was all just FUCKING UNBEARABLE and it would be better if I was beamed up by aliens and they killed me after they were done shoving probes into my ears.  I agreed to go home and do some mindfulness exercises, which are impossible to do when you’re that upset. 

Instead I went home, with the intention of doing mindfulness exercises (I had my CD player out, was sitting on the back porch, had all of my coloring books and colored pencils and journal, etc).  I couldn’t bring myself to use any skills, and all I really wanted to do was fucking TALK to someone. 

I called Dad and his wife, Karen (who has been a psych nurse most of her life) answered and I talked to her (or rather cried my damn eyes out) while she tried to calm me down and I tried to explain how shitty my day had been and how hopeless I felt.  She made me feel a little bit better, and then I talked to Dad, who tried to take my mind off things by telling me this story of how he got pulled over by Highway Patrol the other day.  He distracted me and it was good.  Once I had calmed down a little bit, I tried to explain why I felt so bad, how today had been so horrible, and he asked me some questions about stuff.  Trying to understand.  And being supportive.  I’m really glad I called them. 

Then Mom pulled in the drive.  So I got off the phone and put my headset on.  I told her I had to make a second coaching call in fifteen minutes.  And that I was pretty much done talking about it.  We didn’t really chat much.  I told her a little bit about the events of the day.  Then DHut showed up and they were talking business.  I sat and listened.  DHut was very supportive and kept saying, I love you, because I must have looked just so fucking miserable.  Mom did the same.  It made me feel better.  DHut told me not to worry about the cash register, that it was only four dollars, not a big deal.  I told him that it wasn’t just that, it was all the stress and I just had to leave and break down.

I did quite a bit more sitting outside listening to them talk.  Just listening and chainsmoking.  Sometimes it makes me feel better to have people (not just any people, namely Mom and DHut) sit around and talk about something totally unrelated to the issues I’m having and for me to just be able to sit there and listen and not say much.

I then went inside and had dinner.  And chainsmoked some more.  Called Malcom, talked to him briefly.  Went to bed around 10:30. 

We had storms last night and Kizz woke me up at 3:00 a.m.  And then I was wide awake.  So I literally sat downstairs on the chaise lounge, drinking coffee and chainsmoking until 5:45 a.m., when I called Dad and asked if I could come hang out today and make Mom and DHut a trifle for their anniversary.  Dad said he had to work (works out of his basement at his house…he’s an attorney), but that I was more than welcome to come over. 

I just want to be somewhere quiet.  And work on sacred self and self soothe skills.  Because I really need them right now. 

Before I go over there, I have therapy at 9:00 and then need to pick up some stuff for the trifle.  At some point in time today I need to go the Res and buy cigaretttes. 

Other than that, I plan on doing nothing but sitting on my ass, talking to Malcom (thank God for free weekend minutes), and doing other self-soothe stuff…coloring, reading, doing my toenails, journaling.  It’s about all I can handle. 

I would apologize for all the cursing in this post, but that’s how I feel.  I’m still really irritable and mad and want to tell the world to fuck off.  Instead of going out and doing that though, I’m going to do as previously mentioned and spend a lot of alone time…with Dad doing his lawyer thing in the basement.

Norah Jones, The Long Day is Over


One thought on “And I Said “FUCK OFF WORLD”

  1. It sounds like the only thing that will bring you under control is to talk to someone or to sleep. Does it help if you were to call a crisis line? Look up the numbers for several of them and key them in your cellphone. It is not the same thing as talking to your therapist, but at least it is something. It sounds you just need to have someone settle you down but it has to be at that moment. When you get that upset can you articulate what you need at that moment? If you can then a crisis line might be able to help.



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