house
-
I can’t slow down my mind. The anxiety is absolutely palpable. The light fixture is installed and my desk moved into place. My mother bitched about the flooring restoration and all kinds of other things while I was there the last few days. I try to let it roll off me but the truth is,
-
I’m drowning in things to do. As soon as I cross one thing off the list, I add another. My new light fixture is finally being installed tomorrow. I’m moving my desk into the room. Then it’s all ready for me to start moving what I’m keeping back into the house. I’ve sold some furniture
-
I am at a loss on what to say. I’ve felt a powerful sense of blankness and loss of feeling. I’m like a mannequin, or robot. Didn’t make it to work last night. Too much going on, house stuff, work, family stress… I spent most of the day at the house supervising a housecleaner who
-
Everything is moving so fast. I’ve got wall washers coming because of all the dust from the hardwood restoration. That’s gonna go over real well with my mom, haha…and what does she care? She hates my house. I’ve got Lowes on the way to pick up my unused and unwanted laminate. I did use some
-
My house is really coming together. The restored hardwood looks amazing. It even smells good. He still has to add transitions – built in wood “lips” at the transitions from the hall to the bathroom and the hall to the kitchen. Then I’ll be adding the trim – that I already have because I bought
-
My flat affect continues. People think I’m depressed but I don’t really feel depressed. Maybe a little stressed out. If there are feelings to feel, my Sacred Heart job certainly makes me feel them. So many triggers which still, maddeningly, push my limits and make me question all my life choices. I like healthcare, I
-
I expect to be able to approve the final draft in the next day or two. The publisher is waiting on it. I am digging deep into the IOP/DBT skills for distress tolerance. I have stressors on all sides. My mother, my house, my Sacred Heart job and all its constant triggers. Being a federal
-
I just got in a terrible fight with my mother. I was a dick, yes. I don’t even know where else to start. I hate her passive aggressive victim complex. I called her out on it, called her out on the way she talks about my house – my only accomplishment in life it feels
-
I visited my mother today. At my house. I am not living there. She was drunk. She is often drunk. And I just brought her more. More rum, more cigarettes. I visit at least every Saturday with another load of both. She’s been a smoker since she was a teenager. She’s a broke penniless widow
Documenting my journey through the mental health system 