I’ve been through this all before. I get tired of the blame game. I make excuses, just to get people off my back.For why I can’t get things done.
For why I quit after my job is only half done.
For why I can’t “just do it.”
For why “cleaning” usually means moving the same mess from one end of the room to the end no one sees, and then, giving up.
For why my appearance isn’t much beyond “shabby.”
For why I only pretend to count my change.
For why I only guess at the meaning of what you are saying, but thank you anyway.
For why I heard your response, but am still clueless and still lost.
For why most of my stuff gets misplaced, and I give up trying to look for it.
I can’t see a damn thing anymore.
For why I’ve stopped caring.
For why things slip out of my hands.
For there is this “CRASH!” in the night.
One more thing I dropped on the floor.
I know this isn’t laziness.
Nor “bad attitude.”
I can’t get my mind to work right anymore.
This is due to cognitive deficit similar to what elderly people experience
When they have dementia.
I went through the same thing in 2013, due to malnutrition.
It was temporary, and my thinking was restored when I ate food.
This cognitive deficit is what happens to a person due to poor sleep over a long period. For me, it’s been four years of barely sleeping, night after night. I’m surprised I’m not dead. I’m surprised I have not gone into total organ failure. I take that back, I did go into organ failure in 2013.
So what now?
Yes, I did get this diagnosed and confirmed. Chronic insomnia due to trauma, which some of you might choose to call PTSD, or hypervigilant state. The person said this was not only “obvious” but that it was malpractice that my previous providers mistook what was happening to me for “mania,” “mood disorder,” or “paranoia,” completely denying that the abuse had occurred when I clearly stated that it had. What they did, in fact, worsened the trauma reaction. I had informed the providers of this, too.
I don’t want any further blame. I just can’t think straight. Quit yelling at me. Leave me at peace.
Yes, I’m still not unpacked from moving. My hair’s a mess. I just tie it again and hope no one notices. If I put something down, it’s lost for another week. I can’t find the caps to bottles, the tops to boxes, the other sock, nor does anything match anymore. When I really can’t stand it, I throw things out. I can’t be bothered.
Don’t criticize, you will NEVER know what I go through. I don’t want fucking HELP around the house, above all, not that. Only stop that nonstop, battering criticism. “Why can’t you……” Shut the fuck up. But no, that voice is a memory, only a voice from the past. Gone now. Relax.
There are no sirens anymore. No stretchers. No more locked wards. I can forget. Or try.
“Why can’t you….”
All I want is to lie down, I am so tired. I wonder how many disability claims are taken out due to insomnia alone. I feel that this is the one thing that has kept me from going on with my life. Due to insomnia, I have accomplished barely anything in years. I am too fucking exhausted. I remember telling this to people a couple of years ago. No one listened, or if they did, they didn’t believe me nor take me seriously.