I’m neurotic. I’m neurotic in the literal sense – I have neuroses. Lots of them.

A neurosis is a mental condition not caused by organic disease, involving symptoms of stress such as depression, anxiety, obsessive and compulsive behaviour, and somatic responses, but not a radical loss of touch with reality. Neurotics mostly don’t experience psychotic breaks. At its root, neurotic behaviour is an automatic, unconscious effort to manage deep anxiety.

Anxiety leads to so many problems. The pathological kind of anxiety, not the kind that shows up when you encounter a random tiger or Karen. I get irked when people try to compare their anxieties to mine. You worry about beetles – a random example, don’t get pedantic – and run when you see them. My anxieties led to thirty-seven years of active bulimia and a cutting – NSSI – disorder I still struggle with. We’re not the same.

I understand the effort to sympathize via comparison, but it can feel belittling and diminishing.

Who are you?

I have depression – the major disorder kind. I have anxiety with a sub-axial OCD quirk. I have anxiety disorder and an eating disorder. I have body dysmorphic disorder. I have cleithrophobia which is a fear of being trapped, which ironically can lead me to agoraphobia and struggles to leave my house. I’m sure there are others. I’m quite proud of the list, to be honest. If you’re going to be pathological, do it well.

I also have PTSD – the “c” kind if we’re being technical. PTSD was formerly called Traumatic War Neurosis (after Shell Shock was renamed), but you don’t have to be in war to get it. All you need is trauma, and the sad truth is that there’s trauma aplenty in the world.

To be honest, “traumatic neurosis” seems more apt as a definition:

Traumatic neurosis a psycho-pathological state characterized by various disturbances arising soon or long after an intense emotional shock.

encyclopedia dot com

Broken teeth and PTSD

I have a broken tooth. I went against my judgment – pull it – and had it filled and crowned in what has turned out to be a waste of nearly three thousand dollars. The crown disappeared last week at some point, and the tooth mostly disintegrated yesterday with the filling falling out.

Crowns don’t do that well on my teeth. It’s the eating disorder damage, I think. Eating disorders destroy much, but the hits to my teeth and finances have been brutal. I’ve lost ten adult teeth on top of the wisdoms, there are root canals on five more teeth that will be lost in the future, and I have crowns on the top four front teeth to try and save them. Stomach acids melt your teeth, and poor nutrition over decades surely doesn’t help. My front two are only half there without the fakes on top.

You’d think I’d have equanimity by now regarding my teeth, but I don’t. I thought I’d handled yesterday’s break well – I called the dentist, rescheduled a conflicting appointment, and made up a saltwater rinse to keep bacteria out all without screaming or breaking things.

But yesterday wasn’t a good day. I lost my temper. Lots. At home, so that was good – I have no apologies that need giving. I was abrupt and impatient with my dad when he called, but in my defence, he calls a lot right now. I’m not sure what to make about his relaying of minutiae – I suspect the need for reporting is what happens when you lose your partner of fifty-five years. But it is a weight. Listening is hard at times.

Sounding boards

And I’m very much alone when it comes to dealing with my neuroses now. I only had my mother to talk to (beyond my counsellors, and that’s different). The rest of my family is not in the loop. Not only do they not keep up with my mental stuff, relying on my mom to keep them informed, but they’re too busy giving me advice to be good listeners. And my friends don’t like to be sounding boards. They find my struggles hard. It makes them unhappy and uncomfortable.

And if you read sardonicism there, you’d be right.

Everything was too much for me yesterday. Everything was a struggle, and I was on the edge all day, and I hated that. And when I say “everything,” I mean it. Dressing, washing, housework, and planned tasks. My execution sucked across the board, and boy did my anger hate me for that.

Memories came fast as well – I spent much of the day dissociating into flashbacks or maladaptive daydreams. “Maladaptive daydreaming” is a nice way of saying dissociated awake nightmares. We do like to sanitize the ugly out of our language.

But being triggered was a break from grief, so there’s that. Always an upside.

I’m better today. I’m better today because I realized what was happening. When you name a thing, it becomes easier to treat it, even if treating it involves giving myself space and grace. I accept my neuroticism and neurodivergence in everything except myself-judgement when it comes to how I’m able to perform in the world.

I expect much of myself and judge myself harshly, especially when things are going poorly. How very human of me. I really need to work on that grace.

*daily prompt – one word that describes you

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