Adulting Is Hard Work

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on April 25, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

I couldn’t really think up a good title so I just went with my good friend Sass’s term for being a grown up and having to do all those parenty adult things that suck the life out of you :’adulting’.

I did manage to get an extra 20 minutes sleep this morning after waking at 3:30 a.m. I thought for sure I’d come home and sleep once I’d dropped off the spawn at school. But I was in withdrawal and panic mode as I had run out of smokes so I swallowed my pride and offered R a deal of “home cooked meal for smokes”. Shameful but necessary. I ran some errands, including Aldi, which is akin to having my eyeballs scooped out with a melon baller. Just the parking lot alone with cars going willy nilly and backing up and turning in, GAHHHHH.

On top of the dish adulting…I vacuumed most of the house, washed and dried and put away 3 loads of laundry. (only to find later when I heard a scratching noise that Feet had been laying in my drawer and I’d closed her inside the dresser. OOPS. Dumb cat could have meowed or something.) I washed dishes, I cooked a good meal, which my kid wouldn’t eat but I enjoyed it.

Spook was ungrounded today and within an hour, I had to take her new bike and put it in the shed. She was letting her friend ride it and the kid didn’t ask, just took off on it. I was pissed. After the fact I thought, these kids must think I am the grouchiest bitch on Earth. But ya know, you can only be taken advantage of so many times and have your stuff destroyed before you wise up. I did feel bad so I walked down to where they were playing and gave them popsicles.

R asked me to call his eldest daughter tomorrow because the cat she’s had 18 years, even when he and I were together the cat was there, had to be put to sleep and she is taking it hard. Oh, wow, do I know how that feels. I didn’t want to call after 9 cos of her 2 kids but I will make the call tomorrow and pretend I have social skills. It could be the lithium making me feel distanced, IDK. I know how it feels every time I lose a kitty and I am not a monster, I can reach out and show empathy and give condolences. Even if her approach to psychology is the very reason the mentally imbalanced get screwed by professionals.

A bright ray today..A laptop was left at the shop and R gave it to me. My nephew got it up and running (for the price of a pizza, a $400 computer for $14!!!) and I lurve it. It is very thin and it has touch screen, which I hate touch screen tablets and phones but it was a new gimmick. Not that anything is wrong with Mira here (Mira-cle, cos it was a miracle a beloved friend sent it to me so I could keep writing, oh I miss you, H.) The slim computer shall be called Sliver.I am not using it yet because I used a charger thing from another computer and I don’t think the rating is right, it was getting too hot so another thing I will need to buy. Sad when you don’t even know if you can work ten bucks out of your budget. But school pictures, cost of food, gas, blah blah blah…adds up and I usually do without to get it all done. ADULTING SUCKS.

Another bright note…It nearly killed me to not write all day but I had to focus on all I’d neglected. I sat down at 8:30 after I put Spook to bed and by 11:30…I typed 17 pages. Which is good considering I had no idea where the story was going to go from where it left off yesterday. I winged it and now I don’t feel so depressed.

I even worked in a shower and now I am watching Supernatural and a killer clown is loose and I dislike clowns but don’t fear them. Just, Pinhead, Jason, Freddy-no clowns, too icky.

Amazing how I got all this done on so little sleep with so much anxiety and yesterday I was a basketcase due to the same things. Bipolar just keeps on going like that battery bunny from hell.

Speaking of hell…Don’t tell me to go there. I can’t, at least not til Satan has that restraining order lifted.

I LURVE snarky t-shirts.

Back to Dean and Sam then I will attempt sleep. Adulting sucked but I did okay. Which means I will likely have a few not okay days.

The fact this has become the new norm is just suckage.

4:56 a.m.

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , , on April 24, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

So of course,a couple of days after telling my shrink I’m sleeping better these days…I wake at 1:30 a.m., then 3:30 a.m. and I’ve been awake since in spite of 0.5 mg xanax. The weather has been shitty and I am freezing, and oh, once I turned off the furnace for the season thinking, oh,’it’s 85 degrees, why do I need to pay for heat? The damned furnace went out again.

I suppose shark week and all those rioting hormones explain why I am so uncomfortable (in pain!!!) and moody and probably even why I’m battling the sleep issue. Because it wasn’t aggro enough to spend ninety minutes trying to fall asleep. No, my scumbag brain never thinks it’s enough aggravation for me.

If you want some sunshine spewed…I’ve been writing again, even though I thought for sure last week that the whole socialization thing had wrecked it. 600 pages and counting. (Not that impressive when you consider the 1.5 line spacing.) It’s something and I will take it, though some days it’s like giving a gator a dental cleaning. I have to pull out the creativity while the chaos around me distracts and stresses me out.

The weekend brought to my attention that while I have long blamed those devil neighbor girls for making my life a living hell…I had to face the problem is actually my child. Because she made four new friends with little girls new to the trailer part and she is still driving me nuts running in and out, demanding food for them, and not being where she says she will be. She even let the devil girls mess with her brand new bike she got for Easter (my mom bought it, I don’t have that kind of money or insanity, it’s frickin’ Easter, man.)

I never thought my kid was perfect but I feel bad now for blaming the devil girls entirely. My kid is the problem. She is a follower and she will do anything for these other kids to like her and she doesn’t care how her running in and out and dragging 4 kids inside with her even when told know tears my mental balance to shreds. It’s not that she’s ‘just a little kid’. She knows right from wrong at school. I guess I have just been sleepwalking through life for so long, I didn’t instill enough fear of consequence in her for her to respect me and give a damn that her actions are driving me off the deep end.

She did her best to break me yesterday because I couldn’t find her Saturday where she said she’d be. Then she came out of the woods with this new girl and I made her come in and she was grounded yesterday for both not being where she said she would and also, disobeying me by going in the woods. And to prove what a sheeple my kid is, she is STILL trying to sway me with “Joanna Banana Socks’s parents let her play on the tree chipper!” That follower mentality just infuriates me. But I did not break yesterday, she was in the whole day and I personally turned away 4 different kids. My social butterfly needs some boundaries even if at the end of the day I want to go cry in the closet from the anxiety of her browbeating me all day.

To my credit, I did not cry. Might be the first time in months the raging hormones didn’t send me to tears.

So life is still a bowl full of worm infested rotting cherries and my shrink says I look so much better but…I don’t feel all that better. I get animated talking about being able to write again and suddenly, he thinks I’m on the road to cured.

Have I ever mentioned how over this bipolar thing I am? I want every vestige of it plucked from my brain even if it leaves me a drooling looney tune. Not like I’d notice much difference between this life and lobotomized life.

Did I mention I am also very cranky and spiteful before ten a.m.? I should not be awake at this ungodly hour. My whole day is going to be thrown off by this sleep disturbance which is going to piss me off and I will be exhausted…

That’s all it takes with bipolar. One little breeze of mood shift or heightened anxiety, and the dominoes all start falling. They don’t even fall in an awesome pattern.

Why Twitter Sucks

Posted in social media with tags , , , , , on April 18, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Tonight I watched a movie Cure For Wellness. As disgusting as the notion of an oral speculum to forcefeed eels down one’s gullet into their gut…

The thing I watched on Crack’d today disgusted me far more because It is not fiction.

A “tweet” from our Twitter addicted loudmouth president actually posted about some dude “is wearing eyeliner today.” The dude, A, does not in fact wear eyeliner, and B, the dude sewed Trump University and won 25 millions bucks so…

Is it just me thinking our “president” is as immature as a six year old with the name calling, misinformation, and sheer venom against anyone who has not bowed before his self proclaimed awesomeness? HOW DOES THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES HAVE SPARE TIME TO ISSUE SUCH VAPID ‘tWEETS’??????

At the risk of putting my insignificant self on some government watch list for not thinking Trump’s butt spews sunshine and rainbows…Even in my psychologically melee, I still manage to work up rage towards a powerful being who is so goddamn petty. My closest friend calls me ignorant for not bowing down to Mr. Trump.

I am far from ignorant. I have wanted nothing more than for President TRump to prove me wrong in my assessment of him as an egomaniacal arrogant blowhard. I WANT YOU TO PROVE M,E WRONG, SIR!!!

But daily I am assaulted by his infantile activities, his narrow misogynist views…And as open minded and forgiving as I want to be…

I find him vile. Never before has a PRESIDENT OF OUR AMAZING COUNTRY used social media to insult how others look, to disparage those who sued him for wrong doing and won, never ever has a president been allowed to behave so irresponsibly, so amorally, so DISGUSTING.

You ‘normal’ fucks wonder why big pharma is making a gazillion bucks and the shrinks all have foreign vistas…It ain’t just our brain chemicals misfiring.

We have SOULS. We do not dish out insults about one’s appearance or pull sour grapes when someone calls on us our shitty behavior and wins a court case. We do not take to Twitter time after time just to prove how almighty important we are because as God intended…we are humble enough to know that no matter how intelligent, creative, business savvy or wealthy we might become…

It does NOT EVER entitle us to judge others as lesser beings because of their gender, sexual orientation, political association, socio economic niche…

The “imbalanced” know people are to be judged on their merits and their wrong doing. If a court decides you are wrong and awards 25 million…NUT UP AND TAKE IT LIKE A MAN INSTEAD OF ATTACKING SOMEONE’S APPEARANCE. If someone offends you…stick to the issue and elaborate, name calling things like “fat” and “pig” make you beneath the presidency. Hell, my 7 year old knows better and she doesn’t even Tweet or have her finger on the nuke button.

And don’t get me started on the impeachable offense of how Mr President Trump’s hotels rake in money from foreign dignataries which could well influence his political decisions EVEN IF the party line is that he signed it all over to family members.


How is that not putrid and offensive? He’s not allowed to use his own vast wealthy but why should taxpayers pay for him to play while important programs are cut and his republican army starts repealing basic human rights for anyone not born with a penis?

My friend R says I don’t see the big picture.

Do I think it’s awesome so many American manufacturer have opted to stay in the states instead of hightailing for cheaper labor and parts places?>I am in favor of more jobs, more American made products. Hail to Trump for that much.

At the same time…Many employers are not using social media such as Facebook and Twitter to cope out potential employees who apply. They can use your drunken beach pix from ’02 to deem you unhireable. They can take one sentence uttered in 2008 and call you an undesirable.


I am not longer feeling pride in being American. It seems like it is being run by a male Kardashian and if that makes me a bitch for saying so…so be it. Pardon me if my functioning brain finds it offensive that the president has time to Tweet but can’t follow through on half the promises/lies he used to get elected. But then, we didn’t elect him by popular vote, did we. THe powers that be used their “my electoral college thing counts more than your citizen vote”.

So anyway…sorry for a political tired, it is a can of worms I’d rather not open but…Jeebus, seeing those Tweets from THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES insulting someone ON THEIR LOOKS just set me off.

High school never ends, no matter how rich and successful and powerful you get. It makes my soul cry tears of blood, to be honest.

Do Not Ever Think A Mental Health Disorder Diagnosis Makes You Crazy

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , , , , on April 15, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

I’ve been brewing and stewing this post for a loooong time but a tv show episode just kind of nudged me to bring it to fruition.

NONE of us like labels, NONE of us want to be called disordered, dysfunctional, imbalanced, ie; crazy.

Fact is..mental illness (whether you like the term or not, it is what it is) does not care who you are. It does not care how smart, educated, or socially economically privileged you are. The brightest minds can fall victim to personality disorders, mood disorders, thought disorders. If you think no genetic link or an abundance of smarts and education and productivity protect you…

You are wrong.

Fact is, cruelly so, most of us with a chink in our mental health armor, are actually intelligent, creative, strong, stubborn, and not at all malleable.

So do NOT ever be like the mindless masses and assume mental illness/disorder is a synonym for “crazy”.

Our thoughts fire randomly. Perhaps we don’t make sense at times. Maybe our logic is askew and we make poor choices. Maybe we fail those who count on us and it is unintentional and after the fact, we loathe ourselves.

It is NOT the same as being a sociopath or psychopath. Most with a legit diganosis still feel guilt, we have a conscience, we hate ourselves and regret our behavior even when it is spilled milk. THAT is what separates us from those who are chemically balanced yet socially bankrupt. We actually do feel bad when our behavior is detrimental to ourselves and hurts others.

So…No matter your failures or shortcomings…You are not crazy.

Thinking that is just ignorant social programming and ignorance may be bliss for the sheeple…

But most of us have had enough counseling to know ignorance isn’t blissful and denial isn’t a good coping mechanism.

It’s okay to feel bad for poor behavior, to feel guilty for those you feel you have wronged because your neurons were misfiring…

It does not make us “crazy”. Nor does it make is beyond help, or beyond redemption. Like any physical illness, mental health issues should have some leeway. I’ve long said no one would expect you to place first in a long distances marathon with a broken leg…

So why are we held to the same standards as people without a brain chemistry issue working against us?

Maybe we all feel crazy at one time or another, or hell, in my case, at many times.

I never stop feeling bad for it. I may let myself move on, but it is never without a great weight over my head for I feel terrible when I hurt people, intentional or not.

We are not crazy, nor evil, nor beyond help.

The only ones advocating for us are ourselves and the mental health community who knows how we feel.

Never fall prey to a cruel society who lacks the intelligence to ever truly know what mental illness is like.

Be strong, be a survivor, kick ass when you can, retreat when you must…BUT DO NOT EVER ALLOW YOURSELF TO BE GUILTED INTO FEELING THE WAY THE IGNORANT SHEEPLE THINK YOU SHOULD FEEL.

We are stronger than that. We tangle daily with our own minds and still, we are not out killing people like the so called “sane”.

Rather than self hatred and exile…maybe we all deserve a spork of fortitude.

No. Not maybe.

We all DEFINITELY deserve a spork of fortitude.

Short Circuit

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , , on April 14, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Not sure why but today was a bitch. Been a long time since the anxiety disorder ran riot and panxiety grabbed me in is jaws and shook me about like a rag doll.

All morning and all day, I felt this foreboding. Something bad coming, bad juju. Enter panic and paranoia. It had my stomach torn up. I blew off a prior commitment because my brain had me convinced leaving the house would bring something bad about.

I took a Xanax, to no true avail. I’ve been short, testy with everyone, and raised my voice too many times to count or justify. Explain, sure. When your brain is sending you misinformation and making you feel fragile enough to shatter in a thousand pieces…it is easy to spaz out and lose your cool.

Not my finest hour, today. Not a good start going into 4 days of my kid being home and all the Easter rigamarole. I am TRYING but this ninja anxiety and its throwing stars of panic attacks is just brutal.

Point for me recognizing my feelings were a distortion. Point against me, I handled it as ass trashy as possible. (Though when I got out of the shower and one of Spook’s friends decided to barge in the door while I had no pants on…)Yeah, I had every right to go off on that, you do NOT enter without knocking, ESPECIALLY when someone is telling you NO, do NOT come in. Fucking sad I gotta keep the place on max security prison lockdown to combat kids who just barge on the damned door.

All around a very bad mental health day.

I hope I feel more solid tomorrow so I can get my Easter shopping done while Spook is at mom’s. Hope, hope, hope, so hope.

Really hate anxiety disorder even more than my plethora of other dysfunctions. Anxiety is crippling and it sparks fight or flight response. I don’t like it. I’d about undergo an exorcism just to get rid of it.

Though that too would give me an anxiety attack so…fuck a duck in a bucket.

Are You There, Readers? It’s Me, Morgue

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , , on April 12, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Spork of fortitude to anyone old enough to get that title reference to the Judy Blume book, Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret. I’ve not read the book since I was 12 but I have been binge watching Supernatural from season one and there was an episode called, Are You There, God? It’s me, Dean Winchester. Since it’s been days since anyone’s blog post made it into my email inbox…Really….Are you there, readers/bloggers???

I am in a state of hellish flux. Due to intrusion of people (and by that, I mean R, who only contacts me when he needs something or wifey is out of town and the cool kids are too busy to hang out and entertain him)…My writing has hit a fucking cement wall. I feel hopelessly blocked and it’s not been a full month. I am disgusted, frustrated, pissed off and desperate to find any way back into creative mode I can. It’s not happening.

Much of which I blame on the stupid fucking weather, which still hasn’t gotten the memo that it is spring so I should not be shivering under a damned blanket still.Two days running the cold has made me exhausted and lagging. Sleeping after I drop Spook at school, shunning even good company (ie, no strings attached sex) and not being able to write. SUCKAGE. The outside world needs to stay the fuck away when I am in write mode. Unfortunately, the confrontation complication means I don’t often feel justified in telling R no, I don’t want company and I don’t want to come to the shop to juggle iguanas and amuse you. Because manipulative narcissist he is, he plays it off like I am rejecting bitch or some shit. When in fact he is the selfish insensitive asshole texting me every ten minutes even though I said I had a killer migraine.

I also missed meds for 2 days so I may not be entirely on kilter. Why did I miss them? I dreaded the nausea so much, I couldn’t bring myself to risk it. Sometimes it happens, sometimes not. When I am in freefall due to cold weather and in a depressive rage when the writing blocks…NOT the time to pile on med induced nausea and barfing.

Aside from finding some new bands I totally dig (Motionless In White, I Prevail) and some newer stuff by bands I’ve loved for years (Adelitas Way)…My life remains joyless as I brave Easter weekend with the spawn home 4 straight days and pegacorn knows what drama on Easter itself. I see the doctor the Thursday after Easter but I am not hopeful. For a disorder serious enough to be granted disability, it seems a disservice, and downright insulting, to not be able to get an appointment more than once every 3 or 4 months. Maybe if he didn’t constantly leave me waiting for med changes, I might make some goddamn progress.

Neither here nor there. I am just pissy because the writing has gone away. It could be a days long respite while my brain battles seasonal weather issues. It could simply be end of the road. I guess what counts is that I am still here, trying, fighting, kicking, clawing…Though sometimes I welcome death because I am just…fucking tired. Not being a wuss, just being brutally honest. I mean, if I can’t have any quality of life…What’s the point of living?

Makes me sometimes think whatever deity exists…is a damned sadist. That’s just me, though. And I am often whack-a-doodle.

The Confrontation Complication

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , , on April 6, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

I try not to do flood posting but…Life happens.

No sooner than my last post about the neighbor’s hell hound…My kid was walking down to her friend’s, on the opposite of the road, and the dog went after her, straining its chain to get near her. She started wailing, terrified, rightfully so and I was PISSED…I went next door, running on ‘protect my young’ instinct and the guy was outdoors with the dog and I told him he’d better get his dog under control cos it just went after my kid. I further informed him about yesterday’s chain/bicycle event and said he needed to get his dog under control.

This was followed by him taking the dog inside and the woman there started to scream, and I couldn’t make much out, but I have little doubt the psycho was carrying on about me complaining and telling the dog to shut up, my cats, blah blah. These people truly are examples of why the term ‘trailer trash’ applies. They scream for the dog to shut up as much as me and my kid do because it never shuts up when it is tied out. Hypocrites.

I followed this up with a call to the landlord, not that he can do anything, but I wanted it on record what is going on with these people. I was told to call the pound but that dog has gone to the pound at least once this year and they went and ‘bailed’ it out. So what good does that do. Not to mention, unless it’s loose, it’s just a noisy dog in their yard and no one will do fuck all about that.

Now for all my “fuck you” mentality (and yes, it is sincere, not affectation)…I do NOT do confrontation. It sets off the anxiety disorder, which leads to an anxiety attack followed by sheer panic and paranoia.

So while earlier I was feeling semi solid, even had plans to go mow a patch of weeds in front of the place…Then the dog incident and now I am so shaken, I don’t want to set foot outside the place. I also rounded up my cats lest that psych meth head next door decide to poison them or let the dog loose on them. I am worried my tires will be slashed. Or she will make some false report to children’s wellfare. Let’s face it. People are petty and vindictive, a lesson hard learned but well ingrained.

I logically know this is the disorder talking. Logic has nothing to do with the way I am feeling in spite of a Xanax. I am woozy, weak, my brain can’t stop spinning. Even telling me I should have left well enough alone because I have to live next to these idgets.

I have to keep telling myself, I’ve let the months of endless barking go, I said nothing when the fucking dog was loose…But going after my kid…ANY PARENT WOULD BE AND SHOULD BE PISSED, CONCERNED, AND CONfRONTATIONAL.

Of course, not everyone lives next door to a scary screaming meth head who was just in jail a couple of months back. I fear this woman. Because ya know, were she a logical, decent human being…

Hearing that your dog just tried to attack a child would make you apologize and handle your dog more responsibly, rather than making a concerned mother look unreasonable for being concerned and voicing that concern.

So now I can’t write my story because I am still in the aftermath of terrible panic and paranoia and I know I did the right thing but anxiety disorder gives zero fucks.

This is why I am on disability. Between the bipolar months long depressions and anxiety attacks so bad they impact my physical health…

I am a strong person, and kinda bad ass but when it comes to confrontation and panic…I can’t seem to conquer my disorders and it makes me feel weak and pathetic. Anyone else experience this with confrontational situations?

It sucks beyond words.