Stupid, broken day

Some days, I just fail. Today was one such day.

There wasn't anything striking or earth shattering or garment rending. I worked, and it was one of those quiet shifts where my employees say very little to me and I feel pretty unliked as a result. Most of the time, that is actually just a stupid blip in my brainpan, and my perception is way off. So today I tried to remind myself that my stupid brain often tells me I'm useless or unliked when whatever is going on has nothing to do with me. I drove home and got John and the baby. We went to run errands and John went to work.

Bea and I tried to go to the park. We got to Boulevard and it was just too windy. My poor little beanpole got knocked down by a gust. She got up and looked around and I asked her what she wanted to do. She started walking towards the car with a very determined look on her face. We got there, she put her hands on the door and started repeating "Bye bye, bye bye..." so i determined it was  probably time to get going home.

At home, she didn't want to interact with me. If she was reading a book and I came to sit by her with a book, she yelled at me and threw the book and headed off to do something else. If I walked out of the room and went to go do dishes, she'd come to the door and cry and cry until I stopped what I was doing, and then when I came to her she'd throw things at me until I left her alone. She wandered around calling for John in a sad and searching voice. It was really a bummer.

Today was just one of those days where I don't enjoy being a parent. I basically kept telling her I loved her and marked time until John came home. I was fighting off a panic attack all day, and I kept thinking that maybe she picked up on my broken brain vibes.

I hate my broken, stupid, brain chemistry. Hate it.

All day long, my brain kept telling me that I'm ugly and disgusting. That I'm never going to be fit again. That I'm never going to reach any of my goals. That I'm useless. That no one likes me. That I shouldn't bother getting close to people because when I do they desert me by finding someone they like better. That I'm not important. That I'm a terrible mother. That I'm a terrible wife. That I deserve to be lonely and shouldn't try going outside of my comfort zone. That no one understands me. That maybe the world would be better if I would just leave it.

I know that most, if not all, of those things are untrue. I know that the way my brain was working today doesn't reflect reality. I know that, logically. I drove to pick John up from work with Bea crying in the back seat "Da daaaaaaa! Da daaaaa!" and kept telling myself, "this isn't real.This perception isn't real. Bellingham is still beautiful and it's still full of all the things I love and the world hasn't changed since yesterday."

It takes so little to make me feel unimportant. I take everything so personally. I don't know why I do that. I see someone's post about where they went or what they did on a week when I couldn't get them to return my phone calls or find time for me, and I start feeling sick. I add it to my mental list of proof that they don't care about me and that I should give up. I start recounting how little time I've actually been able to get John to help me with my craft room, with the garden, with the whateverthehellproject I'm asking for help with, and it's proof that he doesn't care about me. I have to constantly tell my stupid brain that those feelings aren't real. I have to constantly tell my stupid brain that I need to breathe, to step back, to trust, and to let go of what doesn't work rather than forcing it.

So today was harder than a normal day. I can feel this slipping over me, the anxiety and the darkness that edge into whatever I'm doing, the cold that leeches out the joy of a lilac tree in the sun, steals the warmth of my daughter's laughter, kills the little spark in my spine from the feel of John's lips on the back of my neck while I'm cooking or reading or washing a dish.

I am fighting it, and fighting it harder than normal, because I want Bea to get me at full mom strength. I want Bea to get my attention and my love and my effort. My broken, stupid, useless disease doesn't get to steal the good stuff from my kid.

So I put up a brave front and waited until John got Bea to bed to kind of slump and fall. I drank a beer and ate the vegan comfort food meal that I made and then sat, staring at my computer, trying to barf all of the self hate out onto this page so that I don't take it to bed with me tonight. I want to send shitty emails to friends I feel have replaced me, people I feel are taking me for granted, and people I interact with that I'd rather not at this point. I will not be doing any of those things, because it's my broken brain retaliating for me trying to deal with all of its stupid banality like an adult.

Speaking of, I should leave well enough alone and remove temptation to do something dumb. I have said quite enough for today.