Limbo, Golden Days, Public meltdowns, and Therapy Peacocks

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , , on March 19, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Therapy peacocks???WTF, Morgue? Lolol. It’s an Arby’s commercial and it cracks me up. I believe in therapy animals, but a therapy peacock on an airplane…That’s just funny.

Golden days…I had one last Thursday. Kids playing in the yard, got stuff done, even survived my creepy brother hanging out, uninvited. (Sorry, love him, but a 23 year old who spends all his time wanting to hang out with my 8 year old is fucking creepy.) It was just a rarity, to feel in a decent mental space, to have major stressors like noisy kids, other parents, and people to deal with, plus 45 minutes of homework four nights a week which in Spook time turns into ninety minutes cos most is spent having a fit…I handled it beautifully. Golden days.

More often, I have pyrite days. Fool’s gold. Up and functioning, but so stilted by one or another disorder that it’s not a quality day. That was Friday. Temp dropped from sixties to thirties, gloom, off and on rain. Couldn’t get warm. Had to work up the courage to call the doctor’s office about the whole gabapentin situation. The nurse was supposed to get back with me Thursday but didn’t. It took another three hours after I called, me wringing my hands, breaking out in hives, stomach churning the whole time. Limbo. Ick. This new doc has me rattled to the nth degree. I don’t want to be viewed as some troublemaker constantly in need of attention but at the same time, I can’t be held responsible for their short staffing issues. It is perfectly logical to contact the doctor’s office when you are having trouble with a medication.

And 300 mg of gabba gabba kicked my ass and left me wishing for death so it was crucial to get hold of them, not because I am unwilling to try it-I’ve heard and read great things about it as an anxiety med. I just want to start at a lower dose. And so I need to get thee into town to the pharmacy to pick that up.

I engaged in some exposure therapy over the weekend. Not because I wanted to but because things had to be done and I figure if I do the exposure therapy thing it will either fix me or melt me down further so they have to put me on lockdown. Either way I am trying.

I dropped my kid at mom’s for a sleepover, braved Aldi, was doing ok in spite of the dismal rainy weather…Then I hit Hellmart. I mean Walmart. ARGGHHHHHH. I hate that place with the burning intensity of a thousand suns. But in keeping with exposure therapy I used one of the self check outs for the first time. It was as awful as I figured it would be. I had a ton of food, the bags kept ripping, I couldn’t find the UPC codes, the case of water ripped open…there were people behind me waiting impatiently. I couldn’t figure out how to ring up an onion and the lady that was supposed to be helping at self check out was busy with a line of people so…I started cussing and panicking right in plain view. It was as bad as any job I ever had, the stress of doing it all and doing it quickly cos people were waiting. I did not handle myself with dignity, but then, who does when in a panic? I am all for anything that lessens my need to deal with other people but when it makes my life more frustrating…fuck your self checkouts, Wal-mart.

To my chagrin, my dad called on my one kid free night and asked if I’d go out to dinner with him since my brother was out with my nephew and stepmonster was out with nephew’s fiance. I was like a deer in headlights. Dad is a downer. Both my parents are cos they are so critial and dismissive of anything I say or feel. A counselor who met them described them as toxic and told me to limit contact for my own well being. And of course, there’s the whole ‘in the middle’ thing. It’s been 21 years since my parents split and yet they still put us in the middle so if we’re nice to mom, it irks dad, and if we’re nice to dad, mom thinks we’re sucking up to him.

My fatal flaw is, in spite of how rough around the edges I am, I really don’t want to offend or hurt people. Plus a free meal out…I was trying to convince myself dad’s not that bad…when he said, “I was going to ask your sister first but since she has your kid, I’m asking you.” Ha ha ha ha, second choice, as usual, feel the love. Oh, well. I went. He dragged me to some farm and home supply store. They had a live pig there named Curly Sue so while he looked for his redneck stuff, I spent twenty minutes talking to the pig. I am an animal person. Then we ate at Long John Silver’s and after, he took me for the same old cruise of the semi truck lot he used to cruise with us when we were little kids. Yay. I wish I could get excited for such things but…I can’t, it’s not my thing.

Saturday evening I curled up on the couch and watched Deception and For The People. Gotta say, I had my doubts about these Tv Free Way digital antennas but as long as you’re okay with 10 channels not of your choosing…they work like gangbusters. Everyone thought I had cable, the picture is so clear. I lucked out the day that dude left those at the shop cos they didn’t work with his analog tvs. Free stuff is always good and better when it actually works.

There was one scene on From The People where the two women were walking across the bridge in New York and I was just mesmerized by the lights and view…but I also felt my heart start pounding and my breath quicken because all that activity overwhelms me even from a TV set. That alone should give the professionals an indication how life altering my disorders are, even TV shows set me off. If only I had a therapy peacock…

Sunday I faced another daunting thing. I cooked and had my mom and sis and nephew and his gf come over to see the new place. I worked my butt off getting the place cleaned up and organized-ish. And it went well. Except for having to hear about how much Spook told them she hates it here. All the while she tells dad’s side she likes it. Kid is sheeple, she tells people what she thinks they want to here. She knows grandma doesn’t like it here, so she hates, but poppy does like it here, so she likes it. I don’t know what it’s like to be that malleable but it must suck.

Anyway…I survived it all. Downside, I was so exhausted physically and mentally, I went to bed at 8:30 last night and I slept hard and without any sleep meds. Dealing with stressful stuff tires me out quickly, I tend to hit a wall.But I have at least earned an E for effort.

So…I did ok aside from the cussing panicking meltdown at Walmart. When I go there, I need a therapy pet cobra to do my hissing and venomizing for me. Or…I could just never have to go there again.

I have a rich fantasy life.


The Help Us Keep Our Power On And Get Trash Service Fundraiser

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , , , on March 17, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

It was brought to my attention that my fundraiser links weren’t working. Not exactly shocking, I’m using a stupid phone (stupid smart phone, oxymoron?) and I get everything all garbled.

Anyway…this is the working link.

Share, repost, donate- whatever help you’re willing to give…Spook and I are grateful because this situation is distressing. More distressing is the fact that the move was forced on us, otherwise we wouldn’t be in over our heads because we live within our means.


Depression: How I Want To Feel Versus How I Really Feel

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , on March 15, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

It has not escaped me that this blog has become a major downer and yes, I am aware many must think, “Does she ever do anything but complain or beg for donations?” I can tell by my views, likes, and lack of comments for the most part that I have lost people’s interest and that saddens me. Because I am having a tough time now financially and I am reaching out but only because I am about to get my power turned off due to the dual billing caused by the move and my fund availability coming after the due date. And I have given them every cent I have to apply toward it, but unfortunately, it doesn’t change anything. I haven’t had a disconnect notice in seven years, this is a tough bitter pill to swallow. It is, however, my reality and in spite of my misanthropy…there is a smidge of hope inside that some kind person might understand the predicament my daughter and I are in and help out. Seven years of keeping the power bill paid, obviously this is an isolated incident not born of my own choice or any wrong doing.

Having said that cos well, to quote TLC, “I ain’t too proud to beg…”

So, yeah, the fact that this blog has become Downerpalooza and Complaint Central…I thought it being a mental health blog focusing on bipolar depression and anxiety that the perception would be of the disorders and how they alter thought patterns as opposed to it becoming my entire personality and identity to never be happy and complain incessantly. That was never the intent but in all fairness, I was ambushed with a lot of bad stuff right after another and am faced with so much change, and I fail miserably at change. Even without my wonky brain chemicals, I’d say my emotions of frustration, anxiety, and depression are pretty valid.

The other thing is…NO ONE CHOOSES TO BE DEPRESSED OR ANXIOUS. That is why we are diagnosed with disorders. When those disorders take over every faction of your life, perhaps the rare good things that do happen get lost in the chaos. I am not inherently a miserably whiny person. If anything, I am rebellious fighter and I fight my own mind with everything I’ve got. But it’s that same mind that is beating me up and causing me to feel things more deeply and in a more negative light. Trying to convince myself otherwise is like putting a band-aid on a gunshot wound. I do try, but it is not effective.

What I want to feel…I want to feel JOY. My daughter and I are getting a fresh start here. This is our first house, we spent 9 years in a ramshackle trailer with a landlord who never wanted to spend a dime to fix anything. Now we have a decent (if old) place where everything works and is in decent shape and the new landlord busted his butt getting the pipework fixed when he learned the previous tenants destroyed it all by using a blowtorch in an effort to thaw frozen winter pipes. This a huge step up for us. We got to keep our cats.

We have a better car now, an ’01 Lumina, and it runs great. It’s the newest car I’ve ever owned, and it’s paid for, no loan, though I do owe my father since he bought it and I’d almost rather owe some guy named Guido who would just break my kneecaps instead of using the debt to control my every thought and action…Being in debt to my dad for $1400 means he’s up in my business, telling me when I can make trips to town, etc. Not that I listen to him since it’s in my name and I pay insurance on it, but still…he’s so far up my ass he may as well be an enema. Still…he cared enough to replace my DOA car so can I really complain?

I am TRYING to view things positively.

The depression, however, puts a dozen spotlights on every negative aspect. It amplifies every anxiety. It quashes hope for the future. It convinces me the new doc is so busy and apathetic toward me, I am doomed. (That one may be accurate, just sayin’, my experience with shrinks has been horrid.) The depression is a dark cloud over head, always raining and gloomy even when it’s warm and sunny outside. I could win the lottery and my mind state would be, “Great, now I gotta pay taxes on it.” It doesn’t matter how accurate the emotions are or how silly they might be. They are there, they are real. I can choose to take them with a grain of salt when my mind is strong enough to do battle but sometimes…it just is not.

The ‘sundowning’ part of the depression really has me feeling low. The one plus is that it used to happen around 5 p.m., now the mood crash doesn’t happen til 8 p.m. or so. It results in me feeling so exhausted (if you met my child, you’d understand why I am tapped out by 8) I am in bed by ten p.m. Because it takes awhile to nod off and the sooner I start my toss and turn and counting backwards from 1000 in odd numbers ritual…I might be asleep by 11 p.m. I used to run on 4 hours sleep over a 2 day period. Now the days seems so long and grueling (even when nothing bad happens) sleep seems to be my only escape.

Does anyone really think that’s how I want to feel?

I’ve lived manic episodes and minus the poor impulsive choices…I WOULD KILL TO FEEL THE ENERGY AND OUTLOOK OF MANIA EVERY SINGLE DAY.

I hate feeling down, hate feeling strung enough on anxiety, hate living in red alert mode.

The fact that I keep trying has to count for something. I am trying. So very hard.

Just remember when you read this blog…my disorders, and their ensuing mind frames and emotions, do not define my personality or me as a person. Under all that bleakness…there’s a feisty sarcastic woman who wants to shed the depressive skin, start slathering on black eyeliner again, and view life as a gift, not a curse.

But…that’s the rub. What I want to feel versus what depression makes me feel.

Yo Gabba Gabba, Get Me Off Gabupentin!

Posted in anxiety disorders, bipolar disorder with tags , , , , on March 14, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Fundraising. Do it for the kitty. Vex says, PWEEEZE?

I started up Effexor again without incident.

I took one dose of Gabupentin and….FUCK THIS SHIT!!! I had a 36 hour headache, could barely stay awake, and honestly wanted to die. I felt that damn bad. I didn’t take a second dose. Honestly, from the research I did, I think new doc started me on wayyyyy to high a dose. Had she bothered to talk to me she would know the ONE caveat I have for all meds is, ‘if it makes me unable to be a competent mom, I ain’t taking it’. 36 hour headache for one dose!!! Who the hell would find that a good thing?

I am so frustrated with everything. I went in for my lithium level today and all the florescent lighting and wide open space had me barely able to stand up straight, lab lady laughed when I almost tipped over. I know she meant no ill will. Were it not me, I would have gotten a chuckle, too, I suppose. Just so maddening when even the simplest things are affected by anxiety and depression!

Twelve years I have had lithium levels done a few timea a year and this is the first time where the instructions I was given verses what was computer generated from new doc were at odds. This is why I want consistency in my psych doctor. Every single one is different and when you’re forced to deal with 7 docs in 8 years…you can’t get your feet under you. One doc says it’s okay to take the whole dose of lithium at night, the new one insists you take two doses a day 12 hours apart. One doc says no food, another says you must take with food.

My psych care is making me more psychotic!!!!

Except I wasn’t at all psychotic until I started getting treated for what I used to think were simple mood swings and some mega personality quirks. And I was happier and had way more self esteem back them. You’d think finding out your condition is legit and not just your own weirdness would make you feel better. NOPE.

I’ve had sucidal ideations since the move. I am ready to give up, many days. The only thing that holds me back is this gorgeous but annoying lil monster.

Don’t wanna donate for me? She has things she needs, too, so maybe do it for her?

I am not feeling too awful today. In fact, having learned what it truly felt like to feel like death courtesy of the yo gabba gabba gabupentin…I’ve had two good days. Not cos anything great happened or my mood was elated. Simply because I didn’t have a skull crushing headache and want to die. I know what new doc said is true, meds work well for maybe six out of ten, and obviously, me and gabba gabba are in the four that don’t work. Just, dear God, how does one pill manage to make someone feel so shitty for 36 hours??? I’ve been on Remeron, Seroquel, Latuda- none were as bad as Yo Gabba Gabba.

Live and learn. I had high hopes on something that would help with my anxiety but being so overly sedated for two days with a pounding headache ain’t my idea of help or improvement.

Don’t like cats or kids? Donate for the sake of cheesy 80’s horror movie icons!

I have started keeping a paper and pen journal and trust me…I’ve already been critiquing myself. “Do you ever not complain?” “Is there never something that doesn’t annoy you?” “What doesn’t make you panic and stress out?” Only with mental health issues would that be a thing. No one would ever ever say, “You can’t talk your blood sugar into being positive and not needing insulin?”

No, not saying it’s the exact same thing. Just saying, physical versus mental, mental health issues are the red headed stepchild everyone wants to beat up.

Final note…Vex’s sister, Hex, wants wet food, so she is asking for you to donate.

Moi, manipulative? Nope. Just working with what seems to appeal.

How can you NOT donate to the mustached monkey????

Fear And Self Loathing Not In Las Vegas

Posted in anxiety disorders, bipolar depression with tags , , , , on March 14, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

STILL trying to make ends meet.

It’s been almost 3 weeks since I actually used my laptop to post. I am using the hotspot feature on my phone so every minute ticks by like a cash register reminding me the time I use, the time I lose, and have to pay to replace. Grrr. Like counting every drop of water we use isn’t stressful enough. That bill, before we use a drop of water, is $65 a month. It’s hysterical in a not funny at all way that living in Armpit, USA, actually triples our monthly costs. I never wanted this. I spent nine years living within my means, never going over unless it was unexpected or pet related. Now I am behind before I even start. It’s been over 2 weeks and I still can’t afford the $63 to start trash service. I have two powerbills to pay now, cos I have to cover the old place as well as this new place. Forget internet service. Which is driving me and my kid nuts.

But I am still asking for donations. Like not being successful has ever stopped me in life. And it’s laughable, raising ten bucks in a month. I must be a really awful person if I can’t even motivate people to throw in a fiver for my kid or cats.

While asking for donations…I get a comment commiserating but asking what work I do…And the self loathing and shame kick in and ya know what? That should never happen for someone who has a legitimate disabiility. Society is the one who has deemed mental disabilities less worthy than physical ones. It also perpetuates the myth that you can only be a valid member of society if you have a job.

My goal through the entire last 7 years has been ONE measly year of medication stability so when an employer asks, “are you stable and reliable?” I could say honestly YES. It hasn’t happened and that is to my own chagrin. I have tried, pushed myself, pushed myself harder, dealt with utterly wretched people who gave zero fucks about me or my and my child’s well being…

And it means nothing to the world. I have no job, I don’t matter. And worse, I have the audacity to ask for donations, again, only for people who have jobs or physical ailments.

Maybe having no consistent internet access will be good for me. I have obviously become too invested in what others think of me, others who don’t know me, don’t know how hard I try, and don’t care. But I think I am so invested because more than anything I WANT to work. I want to be able to stand on my own and support my child and my own mind simply won’t cooperate. It hurts. And it’s why I’m not too proud to asking for donations. I tried working, I lasted 4 months with the situation with R, I pushed myself until I melted down and wanted to die. I’m not asking for handouts to buy a big plasma TV. I am asking because I have made every effort to help myself and get better, but right now…I need help. I need help not simply for myself but because I have an 8 year old counting on me and this move doubled our expenses. With child support I can eventually handle the monthly expenses but I need help getting caught up.

We have no closets, so dad bought us wardrobe cabinets. The freezer didn’t work so dad bought us one of those. My car keeled over, so he bought me a 2001 Lumina. I owe the power company $500 between the two residences. I still owe the landlord $325 toward deposit and that is something that could get us thrown out if I don’t come up with. I now use four times as much gas in the car since we have to drive 18 miles just to get ‘to town’ let alone the grocery store.

Hate my whining? You’ll never hate it as much as me.

I was content being trailer park trash because I knew I could afford it and wouldn’t get in over my head or need to beg for help. When the scumlord sold out and it became ‘buy in or get out’, I was thrust into a position I did not choose so again…asking for help ain’t easy but it’s legit. Nothing I did wrong got us here. We simply got screwed over by a very corrupt liar.

And now my new doctor…I truly do feel doomed. I had to have my lithium level done today and the lab couldn’t even decipher if it was supposed to be before my meds or 12 hours after or fasting, and I asked the doc and she said yes to fasting and 12 hours but I don’t think she was listening at all. I think the level will come back wonky and I will have to do it again and it will be because she was too busy complaining about Dr. B leaving them shortstaffed as opposed to treating me.

I keep soul searching for what I did wrong, how I am viewing it wrong but…something is more off about this woman than the doc nurse. Takes some doing. Maybe by expressing how sad I was to see Dr. B go to new doc I sealed my fate. I wonder if I had castigated him for his abrupt departure if new doc would have given me more time and listened.

We can delude ourselves all we want with the whole professional detachment thing. Shrinks are still humans, still have feelings and biases and sometimes, they just don’t like the patient or take time to even try. And I don’t give a damn if my cashier at the gas station likes me or not but then, that cashier isn’t going to be the one handling my disability claim thus necessitating some sort of knowledge and bond.

New doc is just…not connecting. Maybe if she’d spent the 30 minutes with me instead of 7 minutes cos she was running behind schedule…

But the ending of that story is always the same. I have mental issues, I am in the wrong, the professionals are always right and the truth, which lies somewhere in between, is irrelevant.

Click that picture if you can help us. Please.

New Shrink…doom

Posted in Uncategorized on March 9, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms
3 weeks of hell. Forced to move from our home of 9 years. Car dying off. Elderly new landord renting out same property to 3 different people in the same week…Clawing and kicking to get him to commit to rent a place to me and my kid…3 days without water cos previous tenants left a $300 outstanding bill AND destroyed the plumbing by using a blowtorch to thaw frozen pipes during winter thus 3 days of repairs and people in and out plus kid at my dad’s and his faction invalidating my parental authority over my kid…

We have a home, 15 miles out of town. Different car dad bought us auction. Broke stepmom ‘s SUV windshield moving stuff thus putting me $1800 in debt to them..which means I can’t discipline my kid,go where I want or do what I want cos debt means they own me and they have said as much…

I met my new shrink today. She made me wait 25 mins. I was scheduled for a new patient 30 min intake…She spent ten mins with me,and when I pointed out that I wish Dr B hadn’t left and their staffing problems meant me waiting 5 months for treatment…I was treated to 5 mins of her assuring me that Dr. B’s sudden departure was even more inconvenient for them cos it tripled her patient load.

That was when I knew I was doomed. She’s nice,she is competent and she wants to help. But she is overwhelmed with client load and says she only helps 6 of ten people cos some of us just keep failing med after med. She agrees with me that my seasonal depression simply won’t respond to any med so moving to a different climate would be ideal.

Least she comprehended that is not feasible and she is starting me on Effexor and Neurontin.

I liked her more than doc nurse cos much as I don’t think psych pro’s should lay staffing stress on patients…least Dr. H asked me what I thought I needed.

I confessed to a suicidal ideation last week when everything boiled over and I thought she just might lock me down. Two months ago, I wouldn’t have disagreed. Having toughed out what I have even if pushed over the anxiety edge…I WANT to keep fighting. My kid is struggling at her new school and she made me promise I’d never leave her so I gotta do this for her…I am just…’if I did die and it wasn’t my fault’…I just want some peace..

I am willing to keep fighting but as much as new doc seems to want to help..I think her caseload is so immense she has no patience for med resistant people like me. Hope I am wrong but if she is a fraction of overwhelmed as me…I am doomed.

So I still owe the new landlord $375 deposit. I owe dad and stepmonster $1200 (and the prick asked why I didn’t have a fundraiser to pay him back cos my pet fundraisers were half successful but the move and car upheaval got one donation of ten bucks)…I can’t come up with $65 to start trash service, I can’t get $80 to start internet or even $40 for an unlimited plan to use my phone as a hotspot…oh AND the freezer doesn’t work,cost me $80 worth of food which the landlord says is on me,food and fridge replacement…

I am three thousand in the hole, praying for a miracle cos I have the old power bill plus this new one and if I default on the old one,we lose current service…

Do Fucking Tell!!! Who wouldn’t be crumbling under the pressure, feeling doomed, and thinking the world is against them?

Mental illness is bad enough. All this other stuff plus a new shrink who makes me feel (in advertently or not) that if the meds don’t work then I am the ‘shoulder shruh’ 4 of ten she can’t help…

Fact I am upright and typing this should speak volumes about my fortitude,even if my mental health disorders hold me back.

Attention Deficit Disorders-Psychological Chaos

Posted in Uncategorized on March 1, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

While it is certainly true that ADD/ADHD are diagnosed way too wily nily, especially in children, there are cases, like mine, in which the disorder fits like a glove. Now I’ve only ever had 2 doctors concur that I am indeed ADD. The others simply consider lack of focus and thought organization as a byproduct of bipolar disorder and that is a pertinent point. It is not the entire story, though. Personally, when I was able to take the ADD meds, my focus became laser sharp and I could organize my thoughts into nicely color coded files in my head. There was no ‘getting high’ or popping the pills ‘for energy’. It just made things better. Unfortunately, insurance will no longer cover even the bottom of the barrel generics anymore and I certainly can’t shell out $65 a month fot them so…no more color coded brain files here, just daily utter chaos.

It’s so easy to turn it into a joke, I do it myself. “So I was reading this awesome book about this guy who was haunted by his dead wife…which reminds me of a show I was watching last week, when my kid interrupted…OH MY GOD THERE’S A BUNNY WEARING GOLD LAME!SHINY!”. Dramatic but not inaccurate. I try to stay on topic, try to focus on one thing at a time, but my brain simply does not process things in that manner. No amount of therapy and self bullying and tidy little postie note lists in an effort to rein in my mental chaos changes the fact that it’s a hot mess up in my brain.

And that makes my current situation even more hellish. Moving is a stressful thing for even the most focused, calm together people. But for me, unable to focus or organize properly, and on a ticking clock to get it all packed and transported…This is where my condition truly hinders my ability to function in a meaningful capacity. Right now the way I so hurriedly packed then got so panicked I stopped trying to remotely organize…I’m not sure where our bedding is, our dishes, our bath stuff…It’s all there in a jumble of boxes and trash bags and baskets but…it’s a hellish game of Where’s Waldo. It will take weeks for me to pull it all together into some semblance of a sane home for my child and myself.

To think that I am forced to live with this chaos because of the price tag attached to a medication that could improve the quality of my life drastically really pisses me off.

After a rough night of waking in a panic, then not being able to get back to sleep due to the spinning thoughts and panic…when I finally did nod off, I kept jolting awake in ten seconds, heart thundering, feeling in danger…for no good reason…It was all I could do to get up with my kid this morning. I just wanted to stay asleep because I am fucking exhausted. The physical toll it’s all taking on me is overwhelming, too. I had wanted to come running out of the gate this morning, start packing the SUV and getting the rest of our shit out of here. Instead…I am trapped because now my body has decided its week long walk out on basic digrstive functions is off and I need to be near a toilet. So gastrointestinal cramps, sheer exhaustion, and inability to color code even one damned file in my brain to accomplish SOMETHING, ANYTHING…I am mad at myself, mad at my lackluster psych ‘team’, and I am fucking frustrated that the ONE organ in my entire body I need to cooperate to actually use all the other organs as well, keeps giving me two middle fingers.

Got dealt another blow this morning. Stepmonster found out I can’t have the water to the new place turned on until the landlord pays the old bill former tenants left-over $300!!!! And of course, I owe him the $400 deposit so he will want it to come out of that and I ain’t got it!!! Dad and stepmonster (she’s really not a monster, but St Elmo’s Fire is one of my fave 80’s movies and it was what Demi Moore’s character called her stepmother, so I just like using it, it makes me smile) are going to try to slide the landlord some money and I’ll pay them back but it’s just like…come on! Nothing with this whole thing has gone smoothly, not one fucking thing.

To make matters even worse…I’ve done the math and…even though I can get internet service for $39 a month…I need $85 for deposit and connect fee! I am gonna be trapped in Bumfuck with no internet, no gas to drive to town to even use free wifi…And maybe on the grand scale internet is the least of my concerns but it really IS a major thing for me. It’s my sanity, being able to write my posts and interact indirectly since phones cause me so much anxiety. I have at least 6 more weeks before the ass trash worthless state can, or will, force the sperm donor’s employer to start withholding child support so…no internet for six weeks at least!!! In a corrosive depression!

I guess my ‘let one thing go right’ plea was answered inasmuch as us finally getting the absent minded landlord to actually sign the lease so we have a place to live…But damn, no internet? Not bad enough my car is DOA and I am driving someone else’s which uses even more gas when I couldn’t afford the one using less…So I won’t be able to run to town even for groceries and I won’t have the ability to even stay sane with my internet activities.

Sounds like a suicidal ideation coming my way.

Too dramatic? Well, when your entire existence is spent on sensory overload and the one thing that enhances your life to a tolerable point is the ability to interact via the internet thus somewhat controlling my panic triggers…No, it’s not dramatic. It’s important and I am screwed. I mean, my fundraiser raised ten bucks and that was trying to find a place to live! People raise more money to decorate their kid’s room in Elsa stuff and I can’t even inspire a few people to help me keep a roof over my kid’s head. Maybe no internet will be a good thing. Obviously I have deluded myself into thinking my writing is decent enough for anyone to care enough to read it and say, “Hmm, maybe I’ll skip that mocha smoka half fat full pregnant mare urine foamy coffee drink for one day and toss a five into this campaign since it’s worthwhile.”

My bitch is showing, yes. No, I am not sorry. Frustrated anger is the perfectly legitimate way to feel at this juncture in time.

And while I may not get many views or likes or comments at least I am amusing to myself. I started this post as a ‘living with attention deficit disorder’…and somehow switched to ten other topics without even realizing it! I have to laugh at myself. Because when I think how annoying it must be for others to deal with me and my chaotic thought processes and self expression…


I am stuck with me. And laughter is the only medicine I don’t have to wait days for my useless doctor’s office to call into the pharmacy.

For the hell of it, fundraiser link.