Fifty years, still hanging on
Posted: September 4th, 2017, 9:48 am
Hello, people.
Heart is pounding.
My diagnoses are complex PTSD, anxiety, depression. I have never known peace, or more than fleeting joy. I've been in therapy most of my life; I've been with my current one for over eight years. No meds have ever helped, except Ritalin to help me get chores done, and xanax, melatonin, and antihistamines (all three seem to be required) to help me sleep. In 2008, out of ideas, I tried ECT. It was horrible, awful, terrible. It did not help. A year or two ago I tried a course of ketamine, which may have helped some for a while, but the setting was awful -- noisy, grating, chaotic, harsh, triggering -- and I can't afford it again anyway.
I am single, cis-female, never been married, no kids. I love kids, but am not equipped to parent.
In my twenties, having finally realized that (a) I could either work or survive but not both, and (b) social security disability was for mental/emotional as well as physical debility, and having secured official disability status, I asked my mother why they didn't get me help when I was little. She said, "You were angry from day one. How were we to know anything was wrong?" I say this to give a glimpse of the quality of parenting I enjoyed.
Through scrimping, hoarding, exploiting loopholes, keeping to myself, exiling myself to a region where property costs a tiny fraction of most places, and depriving myself of things I need including medical care, and having begged myself into a private loan, I have made myself a homeowner. My need for this form of autonomy and stability was extreme, and I'm really grateful to be relieved of the chaos of poverty plus renting. Unfortunately, to get a decent place I could potentially pay off in my lifetime, I had to go far from town, over terrible roads. My point is that isolation, always hard to fight, now feels like the only option, since driving is expensive, and I now no longer qualify for any relief programs, and the money situation is deteriorating.
I see that my isolation is growing, and is exacerbating my other troubles. Sinking into despair seems to be gaining in frequency and strength, and I don't know what to do about it. Social media sounds like a world I don't want to enter; most of what I hear about it is how addicted people are to it, and how compulsive and otherwise unhealthy their engagement with it is. Also, there's no cell service where I live, and internet service is via satellite (thus, poor quality, expensive, and metered). Being online is kind of wearing, but it seems worthwhile to reach out here, so here I am.
I'm smart and empathetic and probably Asperger's and terribly frustrated and angry with the drive to survive, given that it seems that life's rules are written for people who are differently endowed. I feel "tribe" with nearly no one. A few years ago I did find my first real friend, someone who I experience as rational enough that she feels not alien to me. I don't claim that I'm perfectly rational; I'm clearly not. But I want to be rational, which is what seems to separate me from most people. Discovering that I'm irrational about something is powerful motivation to fix my thinking, and I'm hungry to find where I'm irrational, because I believe that irrationality undermines any chance for happiness, at least for me. It seems to me that most people take all sorts of shortcuts and sidetrips to avoid noticing where they're being inconsistent or incoherent, and that drives me mad, and drives me away, and here I sit, far too alone.
So. That's me, for now. Many thanks to Paul and his helpers (I assume he has some) for the podcast and for this forum. Good wishes to all you fellow creatures, and thanks for reading.
Oh -- P.S.: If you're at all affected by the magic of musical theater, I enthusiastically recommend Shrek The Musical as mood medicine. If you can't get your hands on the video, at least find your way to the soundtrack.
Heart is pounding.
My diagnoses are complex PTSD, anxiety, depression. I have never known peace, or more than fleeting joy. I've been in therapy most of my life; I've been with my current one for over eight years. No meds have ever helped, except Ritalin to help me get chores done, and xanax, melatonin, and antihistamines (all three seem to be required) to help me sleep. In 2008, out of ideas, I tried ECT. It was horrible, awful, terrible. It did not help. A year or two ago I tried a course of ketamine, which may have helped some for a while, but the setting was awful -- noisy, grating, chaotic, harsh, triggering -- and I can't afford it again anyway.
I am single, cis-female, never been married, no kids. I love kids, but am not equipped to parent.
In my twenties, having finally realized that (a) I could either work or survive but not both, and (b) social security disability was for mental/emotional as well as physical debility, and having secured official disability status, I asked my mother why they didn't get me help when I was little. She said, "You were angry from day one. How were we to know anything was wrong?" I say this to give a glimpse of the quality of parenting I enjoyed.
Through scrimping, hoarding, exploiting loopholes, keeping to myself, exiling myself to a region where property costs a tiny fraction of most places, and depriving myself of things I need including medical care, and having begged myself into a private loan, I have made myself a homeowner. My need for this form of autonomy and stability was extreme, and I'm really grateful to be relieved of the chaos of poverty plus renting. Unfortunately, to get a decent place I could potentially pay off in my lifetime, I had to go far from town, over terrible roads. My point is that isolation, always hard to fight, now feels like the only option, since driving is expensive, and I now no longer qualify for any relief programs, and the money situation is deteriorating.
I see that my isolation is growing, and is exacerbating my other troubles. Sinking into despair seems to be gaining in frequency and strength, and I don't know what to do about it. Social media sounds like a world I don't want to enter; most of what I hear about it is how addicted people are to it, and how compulsive and otherwise unhealthy their engagement with it is. Also, there's no cell service where I live, and internet service is via satellite (thus, poor quality, expensive, and metered). Being online is kind of wearing, but it seems worthwhile to reach out here, so here I am.
I'm smart and empathetic and probably Asperger's and terribly frustrated and angry with the drive to survive, given that it seems that life's rules are written for people who are differently endowed. I feel "tribe" with nearly no one. A few years ago I did find my first real friend, someone who I experience as rational enough that she feels not alien to me. I don't claim that I'm perfectly rational; I'm clearly not. But I want to be rational, which is what seems to separate me from most people. Discovering that I'm irrational about something is powerful motivation to fix my thinking, and I'm hungry to find where I'm irrational, because I believe that irrationality undermines any chance for happiness, at least for me. It seems to me that most people take all sorts of shortcuts and sidetrips to avoid noticing where they're being inconsistent or incoherent, and that drives me mad, and drives me away, and here I sit, far too alone.
So. That's me, for now. Many thanks to Paul and his helpers (I assume he has some) for the podcast and for this forum. Good wishes to all you fellow creatures, and thanks for reading.
Oh -- P.S.: If you're at all affected by the magic of musical theater, I enthusiastically recommend Shrek The Musical as mood medicine. If you can't get your hands on the video, at least find your way to the soundtrack.
