Pity party

I am having a terribly hard time dealing with my friend's death. My first reaction was to shut myself away from everybody and have no contact with anyone. I quit Facebook and did nothing but sleep. The anxiety and depression made me want to quit this life so I would no longer hurt.

Now I find myself being mad at others. Apparently they do not care if I am hurting or lonely or need someone to talk to. I want others to reach out and ask if I want to talk or grab a bite of lunch. I am sure they mostly do not know how to react, so they do nothing.

One day blends into the next to the point I no longer know what day it is or even care. They are all the same. The big excitement for me is days when UPS delivers my medicine or Corey mows my lawn. Soon, the lawn will stop growing for the year. Then what?

Not a good day

Today I planned to go to lunch with one of my godson's wife. I woke up at 4 a.m. and by 7:40 I felt awful. I had a headache, my stomach felt upset and I felt like I had a fever. I felt so guilty cancelling on her.

I just want to avoid everyone. I do not feel like anyone cares for me. My feelings got hurt when my friends were asked to help with a project and I was not. No one thinks of me therefore I am not worthy.

Aarrrgg

A strange nightmare woke me sometime during the night. The dream involved psychedelic colors and lights moving in odd ways. I do not remember feeling particularly scared but I remember I kept saying I had to get the cat that was atop a bunch of boxes on top of a dryer. I kept saying I have to get the cat, I have to get the cat. I did not recognize the cat as one I knew.

I made plans with one of my godson's wives to go to lunch on Monday and now I am wishing I had not. I love this lady to death. She and I are alike in many ways and we both like food. She does not eat out often, so I told her she gets to pick the restaurant.

As I said, I love her, but I am in a hermit stage. I do not want to see anyone, talk to anyone or go anywhere. I know this behavior does not help me. I feel like no one likes me or cares about me. That most of all includes myself. How can I believe people who say they like me when I do not like myself?

Am I feeling sorry for myself? Yes. Do I know how to fix this problem? Yes. Get out and volunteer. Help someone worse off than I am. Do something. The idea sounds so easy and good, but I can not make myself do dishes on a regular basis, how can I get dressed every day and get out?

Let's try some platitudes: one step at a time, get dressed every day; wash the dishes as you use them; wake up each morning with a smile.

I know I sound like a friend who carries a negative attitude about one area of their life. No matter what I or others say, it will not work because this friend says they must be "broken" in some way. "That advice will not work because I am broken." I find my patience with this person wearing thin. I imagine the same could be said of me and my friends.

I do not like me.

Still here

Another day I spent sleeping. My day started off much as usual. I drank my coffee and took my pills and did my breathing meds. I tried to feed Pogo, but his routine has changed and he wants to wait an hour or so to eat. So I  walked back to bed and stepped in and slid in a pile of Pogo poop. So I had to get the carpet cleaning solution and paper towels to clean up the mess. I fear Pogo's health speeds downhill. His meowing for no reason continues.

I went to see my lung doc yesterday. He seems to think I am holding my own with my diseases. I got the pneumonia vaccine, so now I am covered for 46 varieties of pneumonia bacteria. I ask for a flu shot, too, but I have to wait a week between shots. So next week I will head over to my friendly drugstore and let the pharmacist stick me.

My anxiety meds left Kentucky yesterday, but the tracker for USPS does not offer much info. I guess they will show up eventually.

The worst of times

The only thing I seem to be able to do right now involves sleep. I do not have the concentration or motivation to read. Watching tv I find my mind wanders. For the past two days I have been stuck in the house waiting for a call from my psychiatrist's helper. I left word Friday with the staff about my problem. They would take care of it they said. They did not. On Monday I called and left word again. Still no response, but I got a call from the drug company that I have until the 16th for the helper to call or they would scrap the order. I called this morning at 9 a.m. when the office opened asking to have the helper call me. At 1 p.m. still no call, so I call again. I ask if the helper calls back at specific times. The receptionist said the helper would call me later this afternoon. This whole mess causes me major anxiety, the reason I see the psychiatrist in the first place. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.

The fruit fly problem nears critical mass. I discovered larvae crawling on the floor. I now put all food scraps in plastic bags in the freezer until I can take them out to the garbage. Nothing goes in the plastic garbage bags except paper which has not touched food. I did try the vinegar, dish soap, sugar mix in a glass that sits on the kitchen cabinet. There are about 20 or so dead fruit flies at the bottom of the glass. A few more die hards buzz around the kitchen. Sooner or later they will go for the sugar water, too. I stand over Pogo while he eats and when he walks away I whisk away his dish to put into a plastic bag until he wants more. If he eats all of it, I wash the bowl immediately. The back door no longer stands open, in fact the boys are no longer allowed outside. I WILL win this battle. I have mopped the kitchen floor with bleach and stand by with bleach wipes in case Pogo spills or dribbles.

I got the first box of birthday steaks from my brother Friday but I am not hungry enough to thaw one out to cook. Nothing and I mean nothing sounds good. Maybe I will lose those 10 pounds I gained recently.

The fires in northern California near my friend Sylvia's house. Her son and husband had to evacuate to a Wal-Mart in a couple of towns away. I know she is in heaven worrying about her boys.

This sucks

Depression literally bores a hole into my chest. I can physically feel the sadness and anxiety taking a toll on my body. Thoughts rattle around in my brain but they seem incomplete and scattered. The tears lie behind my eyelids but refuse to let go, so the pressure continues to build.

Depression feels like a weight on my chest. Every breath takes tremendous effort. After 5 minutes I am worn out. After 10 minutes I want to quit.

Depression goes away when I lie down and sleep. But even in my dreams those sad, horribly negative thoughts persist. I awaken with a start and the nightmare thoughts come flooding back.

Addicted?

Another day and my anxiety gnaws at my gut. I checked the progress of the reorder of my meds on the company's website site. One med was there, the other was not. So I decided to reorder the second med myself. The med's prescription expires after each refill. Then my conscience started bothering me. What if the doc's helper thinks I am trying to get that med on the sly. So I called and cancelled the order. In the meantime, the helper emailed the prescription in. Now the drug company has put a hold on the med until they talk to the helper. Why couldn't I have left well enough alone? Now I am going to call the helper this morning and hope she believes me.

Yes,  I must be addicted to react this way. I just know I worry and fret. But if the med helps me cope, I think so what.

My day zzzzzzzzzzzzzz

I visited my head doctor's assistant this morning. We discussed how the doctor makes his diagnoses and I asked if I should worry about addiction if I add one or two more pills when I feel really anxious. She emphasized that should I need or want to quit the meds, I should do a step down process. Otherwise, if I feel I need them to take them.

I then hit the grocery store (poor Pogo had to eat bacon for breakfast) and stocked up on cat food and got some things for me, too. I like to roam the aisles checking for something new to try. I am tired of most of my usual meals, but did not find anything to get excited about, either.

My brother called and we had a nice chat about sports, cleaning out gutters (we decided if it was misting/raining he should stay off ladders) and best of all he told me to watch for a birthday package that should arrive Friday. He sent the same gift as last year: meat. Steaks and roast. I welcome that gift especially since the cost of beef ranks up there with some precious metals.

My sister-in-law plans to give me a subscription to ancestry.com. That sounds like fun.

All this shopping, doctor visiting means no nap today. Tomorrow and tomorrow.

What's bugging me

Nature loves to play her tricks on us. This summer she had fun with all sorts of bugs.

I notice the grasshoppers because Momo, the fierce hunter, brings me one or two a day that he gently carries into the house in his mouth. Once inside, he promptly drops them. The springy creatures immediately hop for the nearest inaccessible spot, where they remain just out of reach. Sometime during the night they must venture out because I find their legless bodies scattered on the living room carpet.

Sugar ants regularly marched in formation across my kitchen cabinets and onto the stove looking for the tiniest glob of mayo my poor eyesight missed. I am sure they would carry the knife back to their nest if they had enough numbers to do so. I finally solved that problem by liberally sprinkling Borax along their entrance. Every now and then a real trooper makes it past the poison only to meet their demise under my killer thumb.

Mosquitoes buzz about looking for their next blood donation but lack of standing water in the yard keeps the population low.

Houseflies find easy entrance through the open sliding glass door that I leave open for my boys to enjoy some outdoor time. The flies and boys come and go as they please. I keep my house cold enough that the flies tend to hang around the window where the outside heat warms the pane. Once or twice a day that window becomes a killing field. I am the Babe Ruth of flyswatters.

I saw a couple of crickets and a moth or two, but the boys earn their keep with these varmints. Maybe they taste better than the others, who knows.

Fruitflies drive me batty. For some reason, this year their population exploded in my kitchen. I cleaned with vinegar, bleach, 409 and any other potion I read about or could think of to try. I made a trap with a pan and plastic wrap and baited it with canned cat food, diet DP and sugar. Not a one fell for the ruse.

I hate spiders and ordinarily I dispatch them with promptness. However, this year, spiders that hang out near the window can stay. I have noticed lots and lots of webs and entangled in these silken masterpieces: fruitflies, lots and lots of fruitflies.

I never thought I would say this, but spiders are my friends.

Here right now

One of these days life will be better. Until then I try to cope with the pain. I know some people do care, those who sent me an email just to say they think of me, those who called with messages of hope, those whom I do not know praying for me, those who know my pain firsthand offered encouraging words.

We all handle pain and loss in different ways. Last time I looked, books on how to cope abound. Grief does not come in a one size fits all package. And mixing grief with anxiety and depression makes the process more challenging. When you lie in the hole, daylight fails to penetrate the gloom.

Though I appreciate the concern and suggestions, this journey belongs to me. I wish what worked for you would work for me. Then I could do so and so, and poof I am better. The pain will gradually ease with time I know,  but now the hurt burns white hot to the exclusion of all other feelings.

Frivolous comments cheapen my pain and throw obstacles in the way to healing. If you want to help, listen. Do not ignore my pain, recognize it as a burden I carry right now. Someday, I will be better.

All alone

I feel alone and abandoned. I suffer more anxiety and then worry that taking that third pill might lead to a fourth and an addiction. At my age does addiction matter that much? Thank goodness I see my psychiatrist helper on Tuesday. I hope she can reassure me.

I know I need to find a therapist that I can talk to. My old friend procrastination steps in regularly. Maybe I do not want happiness. Maybe I do not think I deserve it. Maybe I am beyond help.

After her family and I buried my best friend, I shut the world off. I quit FB. I began to take longer naps. I began to eat lots of sweets, after all I deserved something to salve my pain. I gained more than 10 pounds. Nothing I eat satisfies me. The pain continues.

I grow tired of doing my breathing treatments but if I wait too long, I cannot breathe.

I am weary of the telephone ringing with offers of insurance and fall monitors and hearing aids. Robocalls make my life miserable. I tried the robocall blocker and still the calls come. Thank heaven for caller ID and voicemail. I would eliminate a phone altogether if I would feel safe.