99 Problems...#3...Social Interaction

After the Holiday madness festivities, I felt this was a fitting third problem. I know there has been a rather long gap, but rest assured, I have not run out of problems. I'm pretty sure I never will. 

This particular problem has been life long for me. If you're at all introverted you probably have it as well. It's not that I don't like social interaction per se. Sometimes I really do.  Sometimes I even look forward to it. Sometimes I even *gasp* enjoy it!  But I have rules. Not rules that are written out on a blackboard for all the world to see, but internal rules that I have to live by to maintain a psychological, emotional, and physical balance. If the rules are broken, I am broken as well. There is no "getting used to it". There is no adapting. There is no learning to like it, and certainly no "going with the flow". I've tried. Believe me, I. Have. Tried. But even as far back as I can remember, I had rules. I may not have known why back then. I may not have realized that in following them I was maintaining a balance, but I was. It was almost instinctual. A survival mechanism. It's only during the last year or so of connecting the dots, that I was able to...connect the dots. I am now fully aware of why I need this structure and I'm also fully aware of what happens when I don't get it. 

So, what are my rules of social interaction?

First and foremost, it has to be a PLAN. I have to know in advance that it is coming and I have to ready myself for it. I have to prepare, maybe even rehearse. I have to run scenarios through my head and figure out the solutions to said scenarios IN ADVANCE, just in case, you know, they happen. Spur of the moment, last minute social interaction is one of the most anxiety inducing experiences of my life. I don't like it. I don't see that changing. Randomly running into people is a nightmare. If I see you, but you don't see me, I'm going to duck down that other aisle and hide.

Second, I have to STICK to the PLAN. Change is bad. Change is bad. Change is bad. Can I rationalize the fact that Change isn't really all bad? Sure. Can I make myself believe it down to my core? No. I can not. For me, even changes need to be PLANNED, prepared for, rehearsed. This is why I can and have made some rather BIG changes in my life. Changes that left people shaking their heads in disbelief. But I planned for it. Probably for years. And I controlled it. So...yeah. If there is a plan, lets just go on and follow through with it, shall we?

Third, I have to space it out. Too much in a short period of time will cause me to feel overwhelmed, emotionally melt down, and leave me unable to even identify my own feelings. Instead of being able to step back and say, I'm overwhelmed, I'm tired, I'm confused...I end up with only one dominant thought/feeling/emotion, or whatever it is, and that is..."I  hate everyone." I don't have an answer to why this happens and why that is my default, but it is and well, that just turns me into a Bitch. Space it out. No two days in a row. This also applied to the younger bar hopping years. 

Fourth, I need my recovery time, or "breaks". While spacing out the social interaction, the time in between has to be what I consider recharging. For me, that means a quiet external world and a good amount of alone time. This, I've come to realize, is one of the MOST important things I need in my life. Even if the "social interaction" only involves an hour visit with a friend. I'm still working on fitting this step into my life and not feeling bad about it. For years I would omit it because it felt selfish, or other people would say it's "unhealthy" to spend too much time alone. It felt like wanting it or needing it was somehow wrong. Like I was somehow wrong. Then I had a child and well, we all know how much alone time that allows for. But now, finally, I'm ready to take it back on the premise that EVERYONE, no just myself, will benefit from it. If I'm balanced, trust me, I will be so much more pleasant to be around. 

And there you have it. A complete over analyzing of One simple problem. There is also a fifth unofficial rule, but listing it would make me feel like an alcoholic....

Needless to say, our recent Holiday craziness left little room for all the rules in my head. I tried to keep a balance and I did make my own plans that included parties and recovery time. But last minute changes and a last minute party threw me into a panic. I'm still not over it.  Basically I just had to get through it, which sucks because I really wanted to be able to enjoy it. I'm on my way back to balance now. I'll be getting back my alone time next week, but seriously sometimes it gets bad. I don't think the average person would understand exactly how bad. If I get too overwhelmed and too knocked off my axis I start questioning everything. I question the existence of other people in my life. I question whether its worth it. I'm sure that seems extreme to anyone that doesn't live in my head, but again, it's a survival mechanism. It just kicks in when needed. 

I'm not sure if there is a solution to this problem, but I do think I can manage it in a way that keeps me balanced and keeps the people in my life out of the line of fire. It will, however, involve me saying no, when I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that whatever it is...it is too much. It's a new year. It's worth a try.

Hope, who wishes you all, all the wishes you wish. Have a happy 2014, or at the very least a manageable one.

Post-Apocalypse

I'm just recently (as in an hour or so ago) recovering from a complete meltdown of sorts. Full on panic, dread, doom, numbness, dizziness, shortness of breath, tears, and the feeling of wanting to be out of my own skin. It's a feeling that is so hard to describe, so that anyone who has never experienced it, could actually get an idea as to what it is like. Saying it is awful isn't enough. Saying you start bargaining immediately to make it go away isn't enough. I will quit smoking. I will take better care of myself. I'll go back on Celexa. I'll do yoga. I'll meditate. I usually wind up being mad at myself. Angry that my brain is in control. Angry that I can't control my brain. Long story short. I took an Ativan and a long hot shower and it has subsided. Just like that. As quickly as it came. This particular attack wasn't unexpected. I'd been waiting for it. I knew it was coming and as I sit here now, feeling somewhat okay, I know there will be more.

The latest and the greatest in the Parental visit saga is that they are safe and sound now back in Las Vegas. As it should be. The whole two weeks was emotionally draining and extremely nerve wracking, and the night before they were leaving the Time Bomb that is mother went off. Boom. If you knew my mother you would know a few very basic things about her. You would know that she is loud. Not only loud but abrasive. Like an S.O.S. pad only less soapy. She talks a lot. She's a bit selfish and only knows how to "give" by using money. She is bossy and she contradicts herself constantly. Sometimes within minutes. I'm not sure why that is. I'm not sure why any of it is. But it is. I had learned over the years that it was safest to mostly sit back and shut up, but if you know anything about me, it's that I don't always do what is safest. I also tend to zoom in on the details, and if there is a contradiction, I will be drawn to it like a magnet.

On the day before they were leaving we had a phone conversation that was basically to set up a time for them to come over that night to say goodbye. (Originally they were planning on another Auction night but had decided not to go. I won't lie. The fact that visiting with us was an option and not a definite was a confirmation that felt like shit.) Anyway, I thought they could come over and visit with Jack after he got home school, then maybe we could order take out. NO. No? No we don't want to eat anymore food. Ever?? Weird. Anyway. Her first plan was they would come over after Jack did his homework around 4:00. Okay. BUT, they have to print out their boarding passes at exactly 5:00pm. Exactly?  Yes not a minute later. At this point it dawns on me, I need ink for my printer, so I say I will go out and get ink for my printer. NO. No? NO. We'll just come back here and print them. My mind is calculating, which sucks because I hate math...but...basically that means they will visit for a half hour. On the night before they leave. Breathe. I'm getting a little annoyed by this point. The refusal to eat with us. The insistence on printing the boarding passes, and I realize that if they had gone to the auction as originally planned there would have been no printing of the damn boarding passes until they had returned home. In my mind I'm thinking so why not just come and stay longer, you're going to have to eat at some point, and print them when you get back to my Aunts. Boom!  BOOM!!!

BOOOM!!!!!

She exploded. Like a stick of dynamite. Looking back, I think it was the fact that I pointed out the boarding pass situation. How she wouldn't have been able to print them if she had stuck to her original plans, so why is it so important that she do it now? (In my heart of hearts I think I know why. She didn't really want to come to my house and any excuse to shorten the trip was usable) In any case, she yelled and she screamed. I could barely get a word in edge wise. I'm sure my Aunt and my Father who had to have been close by listening were confused as to what the hell I might be yelling about on the other end of the line. Only I wasn't yelling. Except for once. To tell her to stop yelling at me and that I wasn't going to fight with her. I never raised my voice prior. I simply said something she didn't like. Something that exposed her motives. I hardly remember all the words she said during her tirade except when she accused me of being selfish and wanting everything to go my way. Irony? Or just plain sickness? I think I might have laughed then because it was so completely ridiculous I could hardly wrap my brain around it. She said a few more things that made about just as much sense  and then she handed the phone to my father. We both just sat there like...hey. Hey. Neither of us sure what to do with any of it. After about a minute she calmed down a little and said they would come over after they printed their boarding passes, so a little after five. After I hung up my head was literally spinning. What the fuck just happened?

As crazy and unpredictable as her outburst was, it was nothing I hadn't experienced in the past. I think that maybe I might have thought this kind of behavior was over. Done. That it used to happen, but it doesn't happen anymore. Needless to say, my brain linked on to the pattern, and the floodgates of my memory opened wide. It wasn't pretty and I'm still having a damn hard time shutting the door.

But as if that unwelcome drama wasn't enough... there is more. The icing on the cake so to speak. After winding down from the phone call I pretty much went about my day. Jack came home and did his homework. I told him Grandma and Grandpa were coming for one last visit tonight. He got excited and started picking out all the things he wanted to show them but forgot to show them the one time they came before. BF came home from work. Because I kept getting a very loud NO regarding eating with us, I ordered take out for us three only. And we waited. When are they coming? Are they here yet? Didn't they say a little after 5? 

At 6:30 I pick up my phone and call. My mother answers. Hello?  Hi. Are you guys coming?  NO. No we're not. We talked about it and we're not. Wait. What!?  My mind is a little bit blown by this point but I manage to ask the question. "Were you going to call me and let me know?"  To which she answered. "No, I wasn't."  I had to ask again."Okay. Wait. You decided you weren't coming to say goodbye and you weren't even going to call and let me know?"  No. No I wasn't.  She started saying something else here, but I simply said "Goodbye." and hung up. Then I kicked a bucket that was in my driveway clear across to other side.

Again, my head is spinning. My son is asking are they coming. No, they aren't coming. Why??  Did you call them? Call them again. Tell them I want them to. My hands are shaking as I send one last text message to my mother letting her know that her grandson had been waiting since he got home from school to see them and basically that was one shitty move on her part. How do I explain to my son why they aren't coming when I don't even fully understand it myself?  I now feel guilty. I feel like, because they don't want to spend time with me, I'm cheating him out of Grandparents. I dismiss this thought immediately. Fuck them. They should feel guilty. I tell him the truth. Not as harshly as I do here. I tell him that sometimes people don't do what they say they are going to do and we get disappointed. Sometimes we know the reason why, but somethimes we just don't.

That night was a sleepless one for me, with my own life movie playing on the screens behind my eyes. I wasn't dwelling. It was on automatic play. Like experiences attract like memories. They don't play like movies for everyone, but they do for me, and what I saw I didn't like.  It was a fact facing night of finally accepting that they (my mother in particular, because my dad does nothing on his own) aren't good for me. They are hazardous to my health. By the time I went to sleep I had convinced myself that there wouldn't be anymore contact. That I had to shut them out completely.  I'm not sure what I think now. I'm still processing.

The next morning I received a text message claiming to "just be getting your message now". There was an apology and an I don't know what happened.  A second message came through right after saying they'd like to see me, either at my aunts or at my house, and that they were leaving for the airport at 1pm. I didn't respond.  Instead, I shutdown, grabbed my new CD and headed out. I went to breakfast alone, I went shopping at few places, I drove around, got a coffee, had lunch, and was sure to return home after 1pm. It was actually a good anxiety free few hours.

Later that night I got a call and let it go to voice mail.  In listening to message, I felt like Alice in Wonderland. Nothing made sense. Her voice was small and quiet, almost childlike, and her words were soft, somewhat matter of fact, with a We Love You at the end. This message surely wasn't left by the same woman who just the day before couldn't have cared less.  I didn't call back. Instead I got angry again.

This afternoon I got an email from her. (This is where the above panic attack came in to play) I haven't even read it yet. Just seeing it in my inbox was enough to set me off. I definitely have no desire to speak to either of them right now. Maybe that will change. Or maybe I won't let myself get sucked in again, because it's too fucking much. I know she knows she was wrong. I know that's why she's playing all meek and mild and tossing out I love yous like they actually mean something. But it's not an excuse. It can't be an excuse anymore.  If someone attacks you physically, treats you like shit, and then tells you it's your fault, does a sorry make it okay? No, it doesn't. So it shouldn't be okay for someone to attack you like that verbally either.

This was a long ass post. I apologize. Mostly I wrote it for me. Also sorry for the all the bold and italics. And spelling?  I have a get out of jail free card for today.

Hope, who is going to get her money's worth out of therapy tomorrow.

Button Pushers

Button Pushers. We all know a few, don't we?  Those people that, for some reason, love to kick you when you're down. Maybe it's not always a kick. Maybe it's just a poke where you are the most tender. Or then again, maybe sometimes it feels like a knife. These are the same people that will swear up and down after they've done their damage, that "That's not what I meant" or my personal favorite..."You're being too sensitive." 

Fuck those people. Seriously. Fuck them.

I've been practicing a lot lately. At this whole acceptance thing. At doing nothing. I've practiced for a straight week with a few major speed bumps getting in my way. I'd give myself a B. Not an A. Definitely not an A because today, I am pissed off. Today I get to take a break, and instead of suppressing the anger and turning it inward, I'm going to let it out and allow myself to be really fucking mad.

I'm not going to focus on the speed bumps today. I can only handle one anger inducing topic at a time or seriously, my head will explode. I'm going to focus on the visit with my parents. If you can call it a visit. Tonight they will have been in town for a week. We've seen them for possibly eight hours. On one hand, this is probably a good thing, because if I can reach this point after only eight scattered hours, just imagine the kind of rage more time would induce. (A voice inside my head, we'll call it...me...just said...but it wouldn't be like this if they were different. The other voice...me again...reminded her of what I already know....but you can't change people.)

Before they even got here I got a basic itinerary. A list of things my mother was definitely going to do. If I could or felt like joining her I would get to see her, if not, well... tough shit, because that is what she wanted to do, and my mother always does what she wants to do. My father, who has no itinerary, has basically just taken off everyday to do his own thing. Okay. Fine. I dealt with that. I'm no stranger to this type of behavior from her. This left some days/evenings free where maybe they could spend some time with their only grandchild and their only daughter.

So far this is what has happened...

(I apologize for the rambling. This is a "get it out" type of blog, so you are reading it just as it appears in my head.)

Every invite I've extended to go out to eat has been met with a no, because "they just can't be going out to eat everyday!" Meanwhile, they are going out to eat with my Aunt, who they are staying with, just about every day.

After making plans to come visit right after school last Thursday, my son and I show up to an empty house. An hour later I get a call saying they are on their way. They did bring pizza though. Pizza loaded with every topping that no nine year old boy in his right mind would ever eat. He scraped it off and ate pizza dough. He's a trooper.

They came bearing gifts because that's what grandparents do, right? They brought him a baseball glove. In case anyone doesn't know. My son doesn't play baseball. He doesn't like baseball. My BF and I got two t-shirts that were given to them by my grandparents in the 80's. No, I'm not kidding. If you know me I don't care about gifts. I really don't. What I do care about is the thought behind them.

Next, I invited them to a family event that happened on Saturday, which I thought would have been a perfect time to hang out, see other family members too, and possibly meet my BF's children. That was also met with a No.

The whole weekend that my child was home, not having to go to school,  his grandparents didn't see him once. They had plans. They were busy. Next weekend he is with his father. They knew this.

I called Sunday night. I reached voicemail.

Monday morning I got a phone call with a request to come over that night after Jack got out of school. "We were coming over anyway because remember you said you would spend time with Jack while I went to the open house at school?"  I said.  Apparently, they forgot.  This time I brought food so my son could eat something besides pizza dough. Our visiting consisted of Jack and I sitting in the Kitchen alone while my Dad said close to nothing, and my mother and aunt were "busy" doing things around her house. I watched and listened as my son tried to talk to his Grandma. Trying to tell her things he was excited about. I also watched and listened to her response. "Really? Okay, honey, now you have to get out of the way because we're moving this over here."  I watched and listened as my child, who has been so excited to see Grandma and Grandpa, told her he learned how to play Scat and brought cards, and did they think maybe later they could play?  I watched and listened as my mother, completely oblivious to anything outside her own selfishness told him no. "No, grandma doesn't feel up to that tonight. Maybe we can play if your mother ever invites us over." (Please refer back to my every invite being met with a no.) I bit my tongue during this whole experience. I practiced doing nothing. When I went to the open house Jack was watching a movie on my iPad. When I returned he was playing with a few Lego's alone in the kitchen. "Did you and Grandma and Grandpa do anything tonight?"  "Not really..."

This brings us to Tuesday, which was yesterday. Part of the Itinerary was an early Tuesday dinner (4pm) followed by an Antique Auction. (preview at 5pm, start time at 6:30pm) Both of these events occurring in the same town. Not exactly a child friendly activity, but this was our option so my son can see his grandparents and he was up for it. Okay. Jack gets home at 3:30 roughly. If we jump right in the car (no time for homework) and head out we can most likely make it there by 4pm. We did. We arrive to find my mother, father and my aunt sitting in a four person booth, that clearly my BF, my son and I won't fit into. "Oh we can squeeze in, just pull a chair up to the end."  To which the waitress informs us this is a fire hazard and we can't just pull a chair up to the end. Okay. So logically, (at least I think it was logically) I suggest we move and sit at a table with six chairs. Six people. Six chairs. Seems like it might work. My mother and my aunt exchange a look, to which my mother follows up with. "I don't know...what do think?" The fact that my head did not explode at that very moment is a pure fucking miracle. Are you fucking serious? Were we not invited to come join you for dinner? And you are not even willing to sit with us? I didn't say that exactly, though. I think I said something like, "We drove all the way here. If we're going to sit at a table by ourselves, we might as well just leave." I said nothing else, and that was the kick in the ass that got them up and moved to another table. Nothing else was mentioned and we proceeded to order. Beer. I desperately needed a beer. The rest was bullshit small talk that I paid little attention to. Mostly I talked to my son because, honestly he was the only one I felt like talking to. As dinner was wrapping up my mother then asks. "So...have you gone over how the auction works? Does he know how this is going to work?" I've told him the basics. I'm not worried. He's a well behaved child...to which my mother continues with..."The auctioneer is grumpy. He gets real mean and really mad if anyone makes any noise. He'll even yell at people." I'm watching carefully as my son looks at me and I see it in his eyes. Fear. I try to counter what she is saying to ease his mind. Maybe it's true. I've been there before and never witnessed it. Regardless, there is no need for this. The look on her face. The tone of her voice. I'm talking to Jack, but inside I'm screaming at her. Shut the fuck up!  What are doing? He was excited to go. You don't purposely scare someone who suffers from anxiety. Especially not a child!  I don't say any of this. Instead I calmly say, "Stop. There is no reason to scare him." To which she responds, "Oh Jesus, you need to get him out his protective bubble." Mama Bear syndrome has now kicked in with me, but my head still doesn't explode and I'm still calm, and I simply say. "STOP." From here, the three of them get up while I'm still finishing my drink. Apparently it's a rush. They have to get there. They have to get seats. It's now about 5:05pm. Again, auction starts at 6:30pm. Same fucking town. Fine. Go...we'll meet you. We leave not too long after they do. Arrive at the preview,and look at all the items. Apparently there was nothing worth staying for and they decide they're going to go home. A big frantic fucking rush. For nothing. For fucking nothing. Game over.

Holy shit. My head is spinning at this point.

We then talk briefly about when they would come over to my house for dinner. I had already told them Wed or Friday would be best as the other nights can be crazy with kids and kid activities. My mother shot down Wed. It'll be too hot. (too hot for dinner?) Fine. Breath. "Friday, then?"  Again, they exchange the look. Something was said but I didn't quite hear it as they both started heading to the car. Something else was said about there being another Auction next Tues. (are you fucking kidding me?) To which I replied, "For the amount of time we spent with you, I don't think it's worth it."  I vaguely heard my mother yell, "Well come over to the house then." as we were crossing the street.

At this point I'm exhausted. Mentally exhausted. At this point I'm beginning to realize that doing nothing and acceptance isn't always enough. Sometimes when a person or people are too much, too hurtful, too selfish, or too toxic, your only option is to remove them. Forcing yourself to deal with them, on their terms, in their way can do more damage than just simply walking away.

We didn't go over to the house. Instead we stopped an got ice cream from Cherry Hill. We sat outside in the calm and the quiet, and laughed about what someone had carved into the picnic table.

I'm not sure what this next week will hold, but I am sure I'm not up for anymore button pushing. I'm not up for frantically chasing down people who so obviously have better things to do than spend time with me or their grandson. I'm not up for witnessing "the look", whether I know what it means or not. (I admit, I do not) I'm just not up for their kind of crazy. I think I'll just stick with mine.

Hope, who again, apologizes for the rambling and lack of order in this post. 

Back to Reality.

Last week I got to escape for a mini vacation with the BF. It's amazing what a little sand, sea, and ocean air can do to calm the nerves. Aside from the 100 degree heat plus humidity, which gave me some serious cankles on the second to last day, it was a nice break from reality. If only I could have taken the sand, sea and ocean air home with me...

My first day back was filled with some mysterious stomach ailment, a panic attack, and physical exhaustion which had me asleep by 2pm. Switching gears is not only difficult for me, but also time consuming, as the only way it seems to work out well is if I take the slow and steady approach. Being home seems to have brought on this bizarre feeling of impending doom. It doesn't make sense and I can't often rationalize it with thoughts or words. All I can do is feel it. And when I do, it feels like shit.

I had my umpteenth (only because I can't remember what number this is) visit with The Head Doctor this afternoon, and I do feel slightly better, which is good because maybe that means I'm getting my money's worth. We touched on a lot of things so far, which makes it difficult sometimes to remember them all. Today the gist was more on why I feel this impending "doom" and why I feel this crazy need to leave, run away, start over etc...every three years or so.  Three years does seem to be my limit. I think Doll Making is the only job I've ever done that has lasted longer than that. Most everything though, work, relationships, place of residence, all have a three year shelf life. Even if they've actually lasted longer, three years is when it all starts that downward slide. It's like a three year itch, and I think part of my recent unsettled, anxiety ridden, and irritated state may have something to do with the fact that for the first time in my life, I'm not scratching that itch. I'm not impulsively quitting my job and jumping into something unpredictable. I'm also not ending a relationship, selling all my belongings and moving to another state. I'm just sitting here, doing this. You know what it feels like when you have an actual itch? Have you ever tried NOT scratching it? It'll just about drive you up a wall. Right now, I'm about half way up.

We also touched on that feeling of not belonging. Ironically, I didn't have that or the feeling of doom, while away. In a place that was mostly foreign to me, I felt calm and safe. Mostly. It wasn't until I got home that I felt as if I had woken up in a place I didn't belong. It was like one of those dreams where you suddenly realize you were supposed to go to work and you never did. Your heart sinks into your stomach, and the adrenaline starts to flow, causing your heart to beat out of your chest. Only it's not a dream, and I really have no idea where I'm supposed to be, only that I feel like it isn't here, and here isn't safe.

Somehow, these things are tied together. It could be because I'm so stuck on the pattern of things that I can feel deep in my bones that this... this, is NOT MY pattern. This is not how I do things. It could be that staying put, rather than stopping, running and reinventing, is throwing my whole being off kilter. Or it could be something entirely different. Either way, it's pretty obvious that if I'm not going to keep repeating that pattern, that I have to do something else. I'm not sure what yet though.

My homework is to pay attention to those times that I do feel at ease and like I'm right where I'm supposed to be. And also to pay attention to those times that I feel most uneasy and most like I don't belong. Seems simple enough, although for me it probably won't be. Patterns are easy. Linking and connecting is not. I don't always have the easiest time identifying my emotions or showing them appropriately, never mind trying to actually connect them to a real life event. Homework is hard, and as a dear friend said just recently, so is living.


Hope, who is still moving forward but at a snails pace...slow and steady.

Sensory Overload... or Why I Love Quiet.

I have some updates, but will probably not get to them today due to the fact that I am crazy busy. In the meantime, though, I just found this video that was posted in a group I joined and wanted to share. It's probably the most accurate depiction I have seen yet of Sensory Overload. Even at half the volume this is what it's like to have overly sensitive senses and hear and notice everything. (there are usually smells involved as well, but until scratch and sniff video is invented those will be hard to depict.)

Personally, for me, it is worse during times when I'm already stressed. I particularly identify with the street noises, the mixed noises of voices/laughter, the tapping of the pen and feet and clanking of the dishes.  It's only recently that I've been able to link these seemingly unimportant and unnoticeable (to most) things to my own anxiety/panic.

Medications like Zoloft and Wellbutrin amplify this for me. Medications like Celexa (for the most part) and Ativan dull or numb my reaction to it. As does Alcohol.






Hope, who sometimes forgets, but after watching that video, is feeling grateful that I am able to work from home.