Archive for October, 2012

perhaps too blunt

Posted in mental illness with tags , , , , , on October 22, 2012 by morgueticiaatoms

I saw my counselor the other day, the sunshine spewer.

She told me I waste most of our sessions ranting about the Donor and what’s going on with him.

I told her she makes me feel every time I see her because face it, it’s my time, my dime, and what is going on with him is relevant to my mental well being or unwell being.

She apologized.

I don’t think she’s ever had someone call her on her rather insensitive methods before, she seemed stunned.

It occurred to me perhaps I am too blunt. I tend to open mouth and speak my mind. I try to use tact, like “you look better in solid colors” as opposed to “oh my god stripes make you look like you’re as big as a circus tent!”.

Sometimes, though, usually fueled by mood, I just lay it on the line.

Today, I point blank asked Kenny if he paid rent at the shop because he like, lives there basically.

And R said, “You don’t cut that boy a bit of slack, do you?”


Not when someone agitates me. That is my failing, I suppose, lack of patience with people and the inability to just keep my mouth shut when they piss me off.

Fortunately, Kenny actually seems to appreciate my honesty and is secure enough that it doesn’t make him melt down and send emotional shrapnel flying everywhere,

I’m a bitch. Not a newsflash. I think I have suffered enough utter misery to have earned my right to be a bitch.

And ya know, it all kinda started with Kenny when he began ranting about depression not being a real illness and depressed people are just weak lazy people living off the system.


red alert, red alert, red alert. Claws coming out.

He’s entitled to his feelings sure.

Just as I am entitled to mine, and since he pulls no punches, I sure as hell won’t.

Sometimes, though, I do wonder am I just too blunt? Or is some of it a byproduct of my mood swings? Some days, I am just a seriously angry woman with no clue why.

Especially since starting the Wellbutrin.

Which the counselor says cannot be causing all these side effects.

Even though I read the leaflet the pharmacy gave me and every single thing I am experiencing is listed there.

She’s another one who just pisses me off to no end.

of course, since the lowered dose of Effexor and advent of Wellbutrin, Anger is the state I live in.

My mood is wonky, to say the least.

Mostly, I hate everything and everyone.

I am impatient, irritable, hostile, and a little too quick to be too honest about just how I am feeling.

I should feel bad.

I do not.

Frankly, I don’t want to be surrounded by people who aren’t strong enough to handle  the things I say. Weakness brings out the worst in me, it’s like blood in the water and I become a hungry shark looking to feast. I can’t stand weak character in people.

it’s one thing to say, “You really hurt me when you said (that).”

Tis another to whine incessantly about being picked on just because I have an opinion contradictory to your own.

I don’t whine about being picked on. I whine about being taken advantage of.

And that problem has been handled because I spoke up and risked rocking the boat.

People who keep the peace and don’t speak up will forever earn my wrath,

Sorry, it is what it is.

Of course, with my mood swings, you could just as easily catch my wrath simply because it’s Monday or you wore a color that triggered a certain bad memory.

I’m funny that way.

And to some extent, I do feel bad about the mood swings because even I have a tough time handling them. I don’t really feel bad for being too blunt and honest…

But I do feel bad for not being able to keep a mood for more than fifteen minutes. (My counselor thinks I am exaggerating, which shows just how incompetent she is,it’s the very definition of cyclothymia.)

Of course, it’s not exactly my fault, no one asked me if I wanted to be bipolar.

Nonetheless,I do have guilt issues about my moods being so rough on others.

Until next time…

I am…

Bluntly, yours

Professional Contradictions

Posted in depression with tags , , , on October 19, 2012 by morgueticiaatoms

I saw the shrink last Thursday. She listened to me and the H word was mention. Hospital. I don’t do hospitals. I am functional, I am just depressed and not happy,ffs.

She says I am not paranoid.

My counselor agreed.

The prior shrink said I had paranoid personality disorder.

I am so fucking confused and sick of the mental healthcare system. The professionals are nuttier than I could ever be.

Shrink started me on Wellbutrin.

Thus far, I am unimpressed with the side effects.

Day one, I became so aggressively angry, mixed up with some tears, that I found myself repeatedly banging my head against a wall as hard as I could.

This is NOT my normal behavior. It freaked me out.

I apparently have been snippy and short with people, not that I noticed. Plus, I warned R and Kenny that I had started a new medicine with some funky side effects so it was going to be weird for awhile.

Like minds that shallow and closed off could ever understand the medi go round.

I think it pissed the sunshine spewer off when I told her how seriously concerned the shrink was for me when all this time she has just been blowing me off.

I guess it stings to have your opinion undermined.

R is on my case again about the certification. Like I can think straight right now, with this new medication. And next up, she is insisting that the Xanax is “masking” my condition and sedating me and I MUST come off of it. Oh, yes, Xanax withdrawal is going to be conducive to learning. Especially with the holidays and all the expenses I can’t begin to cover.

And manipulative R says, “I thought you would rise above it and write your own ticket money wise.”

I wanted to hit him in the head with a shovel.

He never did understand. He was always too self absorbed to give a rat’s ass what anyone else was going through. Just because he and his daughters and wife are overachieving wonderkinds doesn’t make me one. I am a slow learner and I told him that straight up.

It really pisses me off that he could be so high and mighty with me.

He’s sober between 8 am and 4 pm.Any time between he is pretty much lit.

So pardon me if taking advice from a functional alcoholic seems asinine. Maybe he should talk to me when his life is so peachy he doesn’t need to drink enough beer seven nights a week to keep an elephant drunk.

Yes,I am bitchy.

THEN to top it all off, I got an email from The Donor, basically accusing me of slamming the door in his face because I haven’t signed his stupid divorce papers yet. He paints a glorious picture of himself as a mistreated victim and me as the evil one who thwarts him at every turn.

I want him to die.

Horrible, yes.

But because it is damn near impossible to not feel angry and aggressive on this Wellbutrin…

It is what it is, I feel how I feel.

I wish him dead.

And if I rot in hell, so be it, it cannot possibly be worse than my time living.

One weird side effect of Wellbutrin is it makes me pee A LOT. Irks me.

I don’t like it thus far.

But I can tell like most shrinks, she is getting impatient with the meds not working for me. Thus the “H” word coming up. LIke, this best work or next stop for you is the loony bin.

Last night I was actually having thoughts about hanging myself or cutting my own throat.

That’s not my normal pathology.

It’s this stupid medication and I am only on day six.

I was told to give it a chance, so I am going to do so, but man, this shit is sucking.

Irritable doesn’t begin to cover it. I am really ready to take a shovel to the skull of ANY passive aggressive person. People who do not have the balls to just speak their mind,good or bad, are on my perpetual shit list. I am surrounded by them. I know I need to learn patience and to accept people for what they are but this one trait…really sets me off. I can deal with people being assholes, being rude, being druggies, being criminals…But this “avoid telling the truth at all costs and keep the peace then bitch about it later” mindset has me in a semi homicidal rage.

Makes me wonder if The Hulk was taking Wellbutrin.

I am feeling rather “smashy”.

Now…I have to go talk to the shunshine spewer in an hour so I need to find clothes for me and Spook.


I need a support group desperately. I miss my old chat room. Depression just isn’t something you can talk to with someone who hasn’t been through it. Unfortunately,I live in Bumfuck and the nearest mental health support group is an hour away and they meet once a month. I can’t afford the drive.

When did depression support chat rooms go out, anyway? There’s a chat for people with foot fetishes and a thing for balloons, wherre the hell is the depression support chat?

I don’t think I am going to make it on this Wellbutrin much longer. I have enough anger without medication adding to it.

Geesh, sometimes the so called cure is worse than what you started with.


Stealing a MEntal health day (repost from primary blog)

Posted in mental illness on October 10, 2012 by morgueticiaatoms

I feel a little guilty but I think it was healthy. I just needed a little “me” time, since my mood was so low and I felt so irritable.

I dyed my hair to cover my silver roots. Took my time showering and getting dressed.

I vacuumed. Took some stuff to the shed.

Filled out and returned some job aps. This one woman was EXTREMELY rude, said she NEVER lets anyone leave with an application, they must be filled out on site, WHERE did I get the application. Like I stole an application or had someone else fill it out, really? Not hoping for a call there because I don’t think I would get along with that woman AT ALL.

I sent some resumes on line. Picked up some more aps.

Had a 99 cent chicken sandwich for lunch. Watched Revenge.

Was going to pop into the shop, per R’s request, but I saw Kenny was there and just was NOT in the mood to deal. The man is pathetic, there 7 days a week, making no attempt to get a life or find ways to earn the money he needs to “move down South”. If he was so hell bent on it, and he doesn’t have any expenses like rent and power since he is living out of his van, then wouldn’t he find a way to make it happen instead of constantly failing and then sulking about it?

I sound cold, but really, I hate “:I was gonna” people. JUST DO IT OR SHUT THE FUCK UP. There is zero reason for him to be at that shop 24-7, he doesn’t help that much, R is always buying his lunch and smokes…He’s a grade A mooch. And R doesn’t want to hurt his feelings so he will never say a word. Which means I am in the position of sucking it up and dealing.

Today I chose not to suck it up, and not to deal.

I picked Spook up, came home, did an ass ton of dishes, and am now watching the end of Dexter before I go crawl under the electric blanket Dad gave me. Mmmm, toasty warm goodness.

So I took a ME day.

I took a MEntal health day.

R just called and implored me to come in tomorrow.

So I will.

Just need to step away every once in awhile.

I think I am PMSing because I am more irritable than is my norm.

Yay. PMS monster always makes things better. NOT.

But I survived another day without my head imploding.

That’s the silver lining in my cloud.

Let’s hope it isn’t mercury.

Pet adoption- repost from primary blog

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on October 10, 2012 by morgueticiaatoms

Save a Life, adopt a pet

I had a chance to work in a vet clinic today for a few hours pop up today because their new hire couldn’t show up.

Needless to say, I’m not a great dog groomer. I’ve never done it before, and I did struggle.

But bathing them, calming them, checking on them post op…I excelled.

Now several hours later, I think of all those poor animals. It was shelter rescue flood day, apparently, as there were 14 dogs brought in from three different rescue groups. Not to mention all of the adorable kitty cats, all of whom I desperately wanted to stick in my purse and bring home.

These poor animals have had such rough lives.

Lucy. Angie. Scooter. Bella. Lil Bit.

The names just keep flooding my mind, and it saddens me to think that while the shelter is trying so hard to rescue these animals, to get them spayed and neutered and in good health and well groomed…chances are good none of them will find homes. This is despicable, when you consider the ridiculous amounts of money some are willing to pay just to claim they own a “pure blood” or “full breed”.

If you just want a companion for yourself or your family…

Invest that same money in saving the lives of one of these poor animals.

It doesn’t matter what city or town, they are everywhere, scared and alone and lonely.

It doesn’t matter how hard the rescue groups work if no one is willing to take a chance on a “mutt” or “stray” cat of questionable parentage.

My heart still aches remembering all those faces and hearing the barks and meows, knowing they are essentially on death row and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

That is gut wrenching.

People can save themselves, most just choose to be assholes.

These poor animals are at our mercy. They need our kindness. And even if you can’t take one in yourself, check around with friends, family, coworkers, the cousin of your next door neighbor’s grandson’s bookie.


We, the animal lovers of this world, have got to band together in any way possible and try to save more lives, not just watch them rescued only to be euthanized. For some,it is a matter of expense, and there has GOT to be a way to help these animals find homes that does not involve so much money that people are scared away from adopting a pet.

Please, if you know of any rescued animals in need of homes…Ask around. Put their pictures on your Facebook page or your blog. I am being put in touch with the head of one local rescue group to see what I can do to help these poor creatures who only want to be loved and feel safe.

Same as most of us humans want.

it’s easy to turn a blind eye and say it’s terrible but nothing can be done.

But all it takes for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.

I’m sick of doing nothing.

My cats have good homes and are very loved.

I even feed and care for a couple of strays outside.

It’s just not enough, though. I can’t just care about the animals I am responsible for.

I’ve needed a cause for awhile now, to reboot my life and rid myself of all the idiocy of the past year.

After today, still sitting here hours later,wondering how the dogs came out of their operations….

I think maybe I have found a cause.

Helping animals  is a hell of a lot better use of my time than dwelling on things that can’t be changed.

Maybe it’s a losing battle, but we all need something to fight for.

I’m going to fight for those animals like Scooter and Bella and Lil Bit and Angie and Lucy.

It might have just been a three hour job, but it really made an impact on me.

So…save a pet’s life today. You never know when the pet might return the favor.

There are times in my life I swear the only reason I didn’t end up dead by suicide or locked in the rubber ramada is because I had a cat who needed me, and reminded me no matter how bad things are…

In their eyes, I was loved unconditionally, warts and neuroses and all.

That means everything as far as I am concerned.

Dangerously Low

Posted in depression with tags , on October 8, 2012 by morgueticiaatoms

I woke up today…and realized…

I am depressed.

I have zero hope for the future.

I am angry and dead inside at the same time.

I am also scared.

I do not want to do anything today.

I want to curl up under a blanket and not function.

I most certainly do not want to walk the emotional tightrope with other people around, waiting for someone to say or do something that will either reduce me to tears or send me into the anger stratosphere.

The counselor and doctor think I am doing so wonderfully.

If I had any ink in my printer I would print out all my blog entries and let them see just how up and down I am, constantly.

Not that it would do any good. No doubt it would just be me, failing to regulate my emotions.

I was in decent spirits over the weekend. Not bouncing off of walls, but functional and low-level.

Now I am just low.

Really low.

And I am scared.

This is how it starts.

And without someone to listen to me…

I don’t know how to save myself.

I had a dream last night that I was just so sick of R and Kenny and R’s wife and R’s mouthy oldest daughter…that I set the shop on fire on purpose.

Metaphor maybe for time for me to walk away from their drama?

Which I really can’t afford to do at this juncture.

So how do I keep it all from devouring me alive and setting off negative emotions?

I guess that is where regulating my emotions would come in handy.

Of course, being in the same mood for more than an hour would also be very handy.

damn damn damn damn.

The rabbit hole is before me, wide open and waiting to swallow me up.

I’m walking on a field full of landmines.

Must tread carefully.
And maybe follow my old counselor’s advice. Some days if all you can manage is one task then you crawl under a blanket and allow yourself to be depressed…it’s not the end of the world.

Thing with cyclothymia is my mood will probably change before days’ end.

Though what scares me most about the seasonal affect-and this is not me focusing on the negative,it’s just the voice of hard learned experience- I fall into a depression that does not abate for five or six months.

I think I should be scared of that.

I think anyone with a brain would be scared of that.

So why does my counselor just make me feel like a weak whiny pessimist?


Posted in mental illness with tags , , , on October 2, 2012 by morgueticiaatoms

Saw the sunshine spewer yesterday.

I believe I know why she spews sunshine. It’s not simply her personality. That mental health center has a “positive attitude” approach to their treatment plans. Meaning even if I am doing suckily, she’s still going to smile and laugh and tell me I am doing great. I really need someone to give me a cold hard reality check…and I’m getting the “blow sunshine up your skirt” treatment.

Bloody hell.

We did a mental health assessment. It just compares how I am now to where I was last year at this time. She thinks I am a hundred percent improved. I think I am still a work in progress walking a razor’s edge between functioning and coming apart at the seams. But since she won’t listen to me because all of my concerns are “negative”, by the time I am at rock bottom, I won’t be able to save myself. It’s like this program of theirs has ensured my failure because I am sitting here, alerting her to the warning signs I am so familiar with, and she’s just smiling and pointing out how well I have been doing and “no need to focus on the bad.” This does NOT work for me. I don’t live in fear of seasonal affect or the meds quitting and setting off a chain reaction of me coming undone. But I am acutely aware of the patterns of my past and if I start to notice a sign here, a sign there…well to me that’s the golden hour, hit it when it’s poking its ugly head out from under the rocks.

My current care regime is so busy being super cheerful they won’t even listen to me, let alone address my concerns.

To say I feel shaky and defeated is a bit of an understatement.

I had a good mood day yesterday, which was due because I spent three days face down in the gutter.

She didn’t want to talk about the gutter days, not even when I told her my mood sunk so low the other night I was scared of committing suicide to escape all of the dark thoughts. I mean,if I were a therapist, that would give me pause for concern. Not this woman. Like I just threw it out there for shock value or attention. I mentioned it because for about four hours Saturday night, that’s how I felt. I’ve been there a thousand times and the only cure is to go to sleep before the darkness in my mind can convince me to do something fatalistic.

I guess because my bipolar two is cyclothymic and the moods shift every few minutes or hours, it’s not of concern to her.

It concerns me.

It’s usually prelude to something darker coming at me from the recesses of my fucked up mind.

No mind.

I am greatly improved.

Never mind the other night I had so much going on, cats yapping and at my feet, kid hanging on my coattail yelling momy momy mommy mommmy, phone ringing, and I just got so overwhelmed and freaked out-I admit this with no joy whatsoever- I had,for a fleeting moment, the thought of “taking her to her father’s because I am obviously not strong enough to endure all of this.”

It passed, because I love my child more than life itself.

But for that moment…I was frustrated, stressed, scared even…

And my counselor doesn’t want to hear such things, because it’s negative and unhealthy.

This place is a fucking joke.

Today I am not feeling happy, I just feel panicky and stressed and am not looking forward to going and being around other living humans.

But I am improved.

Time to get out the duct tape to hold myself together so the masses don’t become uncomfortable by all my pieces falling off. (It’s a metaphor, I am not literally losing body parts or anything, damn ebola monkey spared me,figured life was more punishment than death.)

Eh, I can’t be too bad off, i am still flexing my sarcasm and warped humor genes.

Off to see the wizard.

Tho I am hoping a flying monkey intercepts.