Three Lies I Tell Myself

I can be normal.

I suppose it depends on your definition of normal, but I will never meet the status quo and that makes me sad so I tell myself that one day I will even though I know that I will not. Sometimes it is better to openly lie to yourself instead of completely accepting something that will crush part of who you are.

I will be Superdad.

I will be the best dad I can be, but that will never be enough for some people. I have days when I think it won’t be enough for my kids either. I have already failed my six year old, will I fail my two year old as well? Will good enough be good enough for me and my kids? Will I be what they need or will I fall short giving everything I can? I will never be Superdad, I will be lucky if I am Decentdad.

I will one day be healed.

This is the big one. I will never be healed. I will be “sick” for the rest of my life. I will be a burden to those around me forever. I will always be that guy with schizophrenia. AND as an added bonus I could pass it on to my kids. Yea!

We tell ourselves lies to soften the blow of reality, but when we live in a world of lies reality has a way of breaking through and crushing us. I try not to be crushed, but I fail most of the time.

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My Two Year Old Is Driving Me Further Insane

My two year old is probably like most two year olds, but I am not like most fathers and it is becoming increasingly difficult for me to tolerate her. The screaming causes me to scream. The mimicry causes me to smile, but get aggravated when she repeats it over and over again which leads to more screaming.

The thing that gets me fired up the most is when she openly defies her mother or me. That gets her a whipping and/or time out. Sometimes I send her to bed over it. I cannot tolerate it. It makes my blood boil. I hate to be disrespected and that is what she is doing. I have tried explaining it to her, but even though she seems to get it she does exactly what she just got in trouble for ten seconds later.

I know she is testing her boundaries, but she reached the end of them a long time ago. She does not respect us and she does not fear us (which is good), but I need something to change and quick because my hair is falling out AND turning grey and I am having to double up on my Klonopin (at the suggestion of my doctor).

My therapist thinks I need a break and I have taken them and they help, but it is back to the same when I return. I can’t take a permanent break as I can’t stand being away from her for more than a night or three (six has been the max and it sucked). So I miss her, but I want to get away from her. I love her, but I hate what she is doing. I don’t know what to do anymore.

Help me, please.

Stressing Over A Two Year Old

A two year old was made to induce stress in any living human being that cares for it on a regular or even a semi-regular basis. They refuse to listen, do the exact opposite of what you tell them to do, repeat what you don’t want them to repeat and more.

I know I am not alone in saying that I get so stressed out that I have to walk away from the situation at times. At least I can walk away at times, for a single parent with little to no support life with a toddler must be something like what a believing person would imagine as hell without the fire and brimstone – okay maybe a little fire, but that is a different story.

I also know that I am not alone in my inability to handle the little stresses and anxieties of life let alone the big ones. I, like quite a bit of the world, have a severe anxiety disorder. Yes mine is a very severe case, but I am medicated enough to make it a normal case and I still can’t handle not finding my shoes in the morning after the, you guessed it, two year old moved them “somewhere”. I certainly can’t handle the screaming, spitting, hitting and licking that my two year old exhibits on an hourly basis, not with all the Klonopin in the world.

She is always right, kind of like her mother, and she thinks she should always get exactly what she wants, kind of like her mother. She can’t understand consequences yet and wouldn’t care if she could.

She wakes up too early, naps too rarely and goes to sleep only if she is drugged. I haven’t slept more than six hours a night in over two years and I really wish that was different.

At the store she is a terror and that is being nice. She refuses to sit in the cart, runs off when she is on the ground, hides, refuses to hold anyone’s hand and screams at the top of her lungs for no reason other than to piss me off. She does a lot of things just to piss me off. My wife takes a laid back approach, but I refuse to let her walk all over me like she does my wife. She gets what she wants, when she wants it and still throws fits.

Spanking doesn’t work. Time out doesn’t work. Taking away TV or toys doesn’t work. If we put her to bed early she just screams and throws everything in her room if she can’t open the door.

She is a redhead and I know that comes with a certain temperament, but dear deity I won’t have any hair in a couple more months due to stress.

Routinely I have to walk away. I used to smoke, but my wife whined until I quit. Now I scream, a lot. I can’t write much because with the level of stress I cannot collect enough thoughts to get something legible down.

Today we went to Chuck-E-Cheese. For those of you that don’t know what that is, image eighty games for kids and tunnels for them to crawl through aided by singing and dancing characters and pizza, cake and ice cream. Hell for parents.

I spent most of the time running after my daughter trying to catch her. I lost her, literally lost her, four times in four hours. I cried three times and my wife sat there and complained. I wanted to die. My stress levels were so high I started to pass out … while driving. My wife doesn’t understand. Now she wants me to have my right to have a license go back under review. If I lose my license I am screwed and she doesn’t understand how screwed we will be. I can drive wonderfully as long as I am not overly stressed or under medicated or over medicated.

Stress sucks, but it is built in to having a toddler. I am getting better, but I doubt I will ever be perfect.

Did I mention I want another one?

Hard At Work

I started working on my almost fictional memoir/biography quite some time ago. It has gone through many titles and I recently gave it a new one: Ramblings of an Uncut Mind. I chose it because my poetry collection is titled Poetic Visions of an Uncut Mind and when doing nonfiction (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) I am trying for stability that way if the book gets picked up then perhaps they will pick up the collection for republication. I have big hopes and dreams, but if you can’t dream big then why hope to dream at all?

I say the piece is “almost fictional” because I am not sure what is real and what is not. What is fact to me, may be a lie to someone else. My therapist told me I should leave it alone (trying to figure out what is real or imagined) and just live my life, but that is hard when you are a writer, especially if you are writing a memoir. So I have taken what I think I know and written it down and if something contradicts that in my mind then I write that as well, explaining that I have two or more memories of the same event or time period.

So most of my time has been spent working on that. The rest is spent writing poetry, cleaning the apartment, trying to buy a house, taking care of my daughter and finding time to show my wife some love. As I write this I have to say I feel sorry for her because as much of a bitch that she can be, she still has to deal with a (medicated)schizophrenic, former drug addict, smoker, pathological liar who happens to be an aspiring author. That is not to say that I don’t feel that she still treats me unfair at times, it is just to say that she has it just as rough, if not more, as I do dealing with her unmedicated ass who is sick constantly and whines when she is not bitching, screaming, or not listening to a word I say, not to mention never taking my feelings, thoughts, or sicknesses in mind.

So if you are wondering why I haven’t been posting so much, now you know.

A quick update:

  • The 2 year old is sleeping through the night in her own bed, but never past 6:30 am.
  • The wife is looking for a better job that won’t treat her like a door mat.
  • We have found a house, pending inspection (Monday), that we should be in by mid-August.
  • I think my best friend is trying to get in my wife’s pants as his wife’s pants are currently in the possession of another of our friends (complicated). I may write about this when I have time.
  • My medication is working splendidly. Anxiety is at a 25% level and paranoia is at a 35% level, but the hallucinations are at a 5% level and the emotional response is up 300%. Moods are stable for the most part and I am seeing signs of real happiness.

Would love to hear from any of you readers that would like to say something.

People Should Learn To Shut Their Mouths

I have an issue.

I am tired and it makes me sick to hear people saying things like:

You need to get off all the drugs. It will free you mind, body and soul.

I need those drugs. I would rather not be in a mental health facility forever or living on the streets or give up my friends and family to try to try to start over.

If you have not been in my situation – my exact situation – shut your hole and stop judging. I don’t mind advice, but stop telling me what’s good for me because you have no idea.

I don’t tell you how you should live your life, do me the same favor.

This deserves a longer post, but poetry is eating my brain.

Not In A Good Place

Since medications were stolen, I am not only going through withdraw, but having major anxiety attacks. I am not sleeping and I can’t shake the feeling of large bugs crawling under my skin, just pushing and pushing their way out. My moods are all over the place and the paranoia is so bad that I am barricading the doors and widows and refusing to leave the house. I even tore the house apart today looking for audio or visual devices (I found none).

I didn’t react this bad when I came off of heroin 10 years ago. Suicide is not an option, well its an option just not a valid one – I wish it was at times.

My wife and I are also not seeing eye to eye. She can’t handle my issues right now and I don’t know what to do.

I need help and my psych and therapist just aren’t doing the job. My dog is helping, but only a bit. I did think about throwing her out the widow when she went and did her business on the floor but I stormed off, yelled, put a hole in the wall and cleaned it up.

Then I patched the hole. Then the guy I may or may not have killed came to talk to me about God.

Anger is not my forte. I don’t know what to do with it, how to handle it, or how to vent it so I don’t hurt anyone.

Do I need to check myself in?

Do I need that much help or will it go away in time?