Better?

I'm not getting better, and I'm never going to get better (no matter how much my therapist thinks that being positive and "thinking happy thoughts" will make me all sunshine and rainbows). I also can't do anything to make me better. What I can do, and I haven't been lately, is try and deal with the symptoms and try to not get any worse. And there are quite a few things making everything so damn much worse.

My psychiatrist doesn't listen to me and keeps prescribing medicines that end up being dangerous for myself and others. So far, since starting to see her, she's "tried" at least three different meds on me. Since she doesn't actually listen and/or give any fucks about me (I'm kind of wondering if maybe she's not fluent enough in English to properly do her job, since she has a very heavy western European accent), every single one of these meds have: A) done absolutely nothing for whichever mental illness I have that she was prescribing it for; B) either made the symptoms of said mental illness worse, given me brand new symptoms I didn't have before starting the med, or a fun fun combination of the two; and C) almost inevitably made me suicidal. When I mentioned being suicidal, up to the point of having a plan made out and steps I was in the process of following near the end of last year, she just nodded and continued like I hadn't said anything, even though this was a PSYCHIATRIST and I had been talking about how I had almost COMMITTED SUICIDE. So yeah...... pretty sure staying with her will just end up with me either in the hospital permanently or in a coffin (I have literally never had a mental health professional dealing me that was more incompetent at their job, including the therapist I had in Bellefontaine that bullied me to the point of wanting to kill myself that "mysteriously" went on medical leave and never returned shortly after I requested a transfer to a different therapist because I felt bullied, which makes me assume I wasn't the only victim). So when I go see her next, Ben's going to have a little words with her, and then we're going to get me set up with a different psychiatrist that isn't unintentionally trying to murder me.

For the last few months, Ben and I have had to go to the Social Security office near us literally at least twice a month to fix whatever fuck up they did this time, which was almost always a fuck up they had claimed they had "fixed" the last time we were. They keep withholding money from my monthly check, usually illegally, when they weren't supposed to. Every time they claim the problem's been fixed, they were lying through their teeth. It would seem that nobody there actually knows how to do their job. At one point, they had fucked up so bad that they had me listed as still living with my ex Jim, even though he kicked me out back in 2009. They had that one in my file a few months ago. We've been going in at the beginning of each month with our latest letter giving some non-existent reason for them taking money out of my check, usually some bullshit about being overpaid even though we'd already went in to get said bullshit fixed (because I had never actually been overpaid, to this day), and they temporarily fix it it and send the money they incorrectly withheld back to my account a few weeks later, when it's already too late to pay my rent or my car insurance with it. Then, every. Single. Time. They send us another letter saying that we owe them the money that they had wrongly withheld and finally sent us correctly, because I had been "overpaid". Or to put it simply: they keep money they shouldn't, then after we go in and fix it, they send the money they were supposed to send but didn't, then we get a letter saying we owe the money that they had sent when they had fixed them not sending the money the should have sent in the first fucking place, we go in to point out this idioticness, they lie to us about fixing it, and when the next month happens, repeat this exact same fucking process all over again, until the end of eternity. Yeah, it doesn't make any fucking sense to us, either, but it still happens literally every single month, exactly like that. Still waiting on the $73 they illegally withheld this month that we were told two weeks ago would be back in my account before last Wednesday, at the latest.

We can't afford a new bed, and the old box springs doesn't fit up the stairs, so I'm constantly in intense pain and I barely get any sleep so I'm constantly sleep deprived o top of the horrifying pain. This one doesn't need much explanation, actually. We've currently got the mattress directly on the floor in the bedroom, and that alone would be uncomfortable, even if the damn thing wasn't as worn out and useless as it is. Even worse is getting in and out of bed. My back and pretty much everything else is so out of wack that getting up from what is basically the floor itself is destroying it a little further every time I do it, and since the pain tends to be the worst right when I wake up, that makes everything just fuck all bad.

I've been gaining weight like mad crazy, but I have basically zero energy to do the basics like dishes or laundry, so I sure as fuck don't have it in me to exercise and lost the weight. And for me, dieting alone does next to nothing. Even if I ate nothing but raw fruits and vegetables and other equally as healthy and low in calories, it would probably take me about three months to lose one pound, and as soon as I stopped that for even a day, I'd gain everything I had lost back within a few weeks (depending on how much I had lost, about 10-20 a week gained, usually), but I'd gain at least another ten or twenty pounds extra. I have no idea how to get said energy necessary for me to exercise, seeing as how going downstairs to do whatever and then going back up again uses up so much energy that I have to sit for at least an hour before I have enough energy to even walk the few feet to go to the bathroom. Lately, I haven't been doing laundry, or dishes, or any other chores whatsoever. I've barely even been taking showers. Standing up for that long just wipes me for half the day. Caffeine doesn't help, extra sleep doesn't help, nothing helps, period.

Oh yeah, and the pain I'm in every second of every day deserves its own category, it's so bad. I have to pop Tylenol almost like Pez just to keep from screaming in pain and crying most of the time, and it's getting to where they don't work very well because I used them so much just to go from a 10 to a 7 on the pain scale occasionally. Hell, right now, my back in burning it hurts so bad, and I've barely done anything today, or recently, to make it be sore.

My medical doctor dropped my insurance last year (without telling me until I called to make an appointment for the sinus infection I had a few months after they had dropped me, mind you), but since I have a type of Medicaid that is barely accepted in Dayton, finding a general practitioner that not only accepts my kind of insurance but has an opening for me is harder to find than a real psychic running a psychic hotline for $4.99 per minute. It wouldn't be so hard to find if it weren't for the fact that the official lists maintained by Molina Medicaid mostly contain doctors offices that not only don't take Molina, but have never taken it and are incredibly confused as to why they were even on the list in the first place. So to find any sort of doctors office (like dentists, therapists, general practitioners, gynecologists, etc.), I have to basically cold call dozens and dozens of offices, ask if they accept Molina, ask if they are taking new patients, and for first three or four hours minimum, gets nothing but "no"s, and if I'm going off of the lists, a lot of above-mentioned confusion from receptionists. Not that either doctor I've had since moving here two years ago have been any good at their jobs or given one single fuck about whether I live or die. The first place was downright neglectful and abusive. She lied about the different pills I was prescribed, gave me one that was very well known to halt ovulation even though by that point I had probably told her we were trying to conceive at least half a dozen times, and constantly left me waiting over an hour because they literally forgot I was there. The second one was nicer, though she did everything in her power to avoid anything more difficult than a sinus infection (though at least she knew what one was, unlike my last "doctor"). That means neither of them did a single fucking thing about my pain or anything that was actually wrong with me. "She's a difficult patient because she actually wants us to treat her illness and medical conditions and not just treat her for the stuff she could easily treat herself with some NyQuil, plenty of fluids, and lots of rest. We must avoid her at all costs!" I'm not allowed to change which Medicaid provider I have until open enrollment in November, too (though I'm going to try calling soon and see if "so few places where I moved to accept Molina that it's impossible to get the medical care that I require as a functioning human being" is a good enough reason for them to switch me right the fuck now).

Our slumlord is trying brand new illegal ways to con money out of us, and are still not providing basic maintenance like we were promised in the least. Also, they didn't clean this place before we moved in like they said they would. The basement smelled heavily of dog piss, the carpets were so filthy the first few months that if you walked around barefoot for more than a few minutes, the bottoms of your feet turned black, we had to pick up a bunch of trash in the basement and found the used end of a blunt between the (not actually properly secured) carpet and the wall, we would leave messages with the maintenance guy and never hear back from him, or if he did actually respond, he wouldn't fix any of the stuff we told him needed fixed (almost a year later, and we still have a missing electrical outlet in the kitchen that he removed and never replaced, even though the one we told him was messed up was in the dining room), we left left multiple message about the roofing coming off after a huge storm a few months ago and we've never heard back from him, among many, many, many other things. They even painted over the electrical outlets and didn't clean them off afterwards, so most of them can't be used if it's a three prong plug (and every single outlet is wobbly and the plugs fall out constantly from it being so loose). Then there's cons where they try to illegally charge us money we never owed in the first place (the last time they claimed we had to pay them part of the water bill because a leak that we "should have reported" that didn't even exist, even though the lease states they are 100% responsible for 100% of the water bill 100% of the time, but when Ben asked for physical copies of the water bill to see where the sudden raise happened, they never brought it up again and didn't charge us for it).

The neighborhood we live in doesn't feel safe any more, because I'm constantly hearing noises that sound a LOT like gunshots. It's a lot like the worst parts of where I grew up, actually. I didn't mind the partially burned condemned house next to us (though I do wish they'd come tear it down, or at least pick up all the garbage, seeing as how the people who lived there before it burned down refused to use trash bags or even trash cans and just literally threw all their garbage into a pile in the backyard, which then blew in the wind into our yard constantly). I didn't care too much about the needs-to-be-replaced streets, or the sidewalks in the same condition. It's those possible gun shots that are scaring the living hell out of me. I'm always worried that they're actually gunshots, and that I'm not safe in my own home. I'm afraid of somebody breaking in no matter how safe the neighborhood (thanks for that phobia, Mom), but with all those noises I'm anxious 24/7 that somebody'll break into our house and steal our stuff, or steal our car, or murder us in our sleep, or the gods only know what else. The reasonable paranoia is taking its toll on me, both mentally and physically. We need out NOW. Unfortunately, we can't afford anything better right now. Buying a house is right out because we can't get a home loan since our credit is severely fuck bad. We can't afford renting anything too much more expensive than this, and this was one of the only places in our price range that had washer/dryer hook-ups and accepted pets.

I almost never get out of the house and it's even rarer that I socialize with anybody other than Ben. That one's kind of my own fault, though not intentionally. Lately, I'm terrified to make that first move, to contact anybody other than Logan and Levi to see if they wanna hang out with me or go do something. I'm not exactly sure why, but it's the absolute biggest fear possible lately. I would rather hit myself in the face than do it most of the time. I don't think it's because I'm afraid they'll say no, because I'm even afraid to call up or text or message people I know would say yes in a heartbeat like Nikkichan or Aaron or Slone. I'm just... I'm too afraid. But unfortunately, nobody even takes that first step for me. Part of the reason is the very few times plans get made, I tend to cancel last minute because I'm too tired, or just plain too afraid. But this not leaving the house and not socializing at all thing is literally killing me. I tried going to art therapy, but that only made things worse because almost all the other people there were much older than me, so I had almost nothing in common (and it didn't help matters any that most of them had known each other for years, and were constantly having conversations that I had no way to join because I didn't know this person or hadn't gone to that event three years ago or whatever).

My phone isn't anywhere near nice enough to be able to play Pokemon Go on it. This may seem like a pathetic reason, and it is kind of, except for what it's doing to me. I'm being left out again, just like I always am when I can't afford some new and exciting technology, or when I can't afford to go somewhere with friends, or any other reason that I get left out. The vast majority of people that I know are playing it. Basically, other than me, everybody that wants to play it already is. This leaves me out of any conversation involving the game. This leaves me out of any of the meet ups for the game (I could technically go, but it's not fun if you're the only one not playing). This leaves me out of any of the trips to go catch Pokemon together (same reasoning as the meet ups). And since this game is such a huge freaking deal to so many of my friends, this leaves me out of most of what they're talking about and doing. And it brings up a LOT of bad memories about alllllllllllllllllll the other times in my life I've been left out of something that I wanted to do but couldn't. Getting the ala carte options instead of the basic school lunch because we couldn't afford anything other than the free lunch programs. Not being able to play whatever games my other friends were playing if it involved any equipment that was even vaguely expensive. Not getting to wear any brand name clothes too school because we couldn't afford anything that wasn't Walmart-cheap. Having to listen to my friends talk these great places they went on vacation like Ireland or California or Canada or Disney World or whatever, when all we could afford was camping, in tents, at Indian Lake (which was only about an hour's drive from where we lived). Getting weird looks from people now when they find out I'm 32, but have never been out of the country, never seen an ocean, and never even been on an airplane. Knowing that I will literally never be able to afford to go back to college, even if they made it free, even if they forgave all college loans (I owe Wright State themselves upwards of $30,000 or so by now, and most of it wasn't from loans), and then hearing people talk about not wanting to go to college, even they can afford it, even if their parents are offering to pay for literally everything. Just...

So basically, instead of anything getting better, the shit pile keeps growing and growing, and it's gotten to the point where I can't breathe anymore, it's so deep and thick. If air holes aren't poked into all my problems soon, I'm not sure how much longer I'll survive. Literally.