Archive for November, 2012

All Aboard: A New Medi-go-round ride is beginning

Posted in biolar disorder, depression with tags , , , on November 30, 2012 by morgueticiaatoms

The doctor did not reject my dual mood stabilizer idea out right.

She said we’d try her idea first.

Her idea is Cymbalta.

I took my first 30mg dose last night.

Of course, my kid woke up four times and I was grumpy with her and barely able to amble along and keep my eyes open. EXACTLY what I told the shrink I did not want.


She says this is less for the depression and more for the panic disorder, she is going to yank me off Xanax next. Oh wait, their word is “wean” but when something works and you take it from me, I consider it yanking. I am not digging my heels in, mainly because I have about a six month stash of Xanax compiled. I don’t abuse the stuff. I take what gets me through the day and the rest just stays in the damn bottle. Not that anyone listens to me. And her theory that it oversedates me is crap. The ONLY reason I have rejected Klonopin and Ativan,et al in favor of Xanax, is because they do make me a sleepy zombie and Xanax does not. Individual chemistry and all that.

No matter. I’m only the insignificant being taking this crap, the doctors and their books know everything.

And this doctor…She contradicts herself,or gets confused or something. She does not remember taking me off Melatonin for sleep. I know she told me not to take it with Elavil when we switched to that, otherwise I wouldn’t have given my sister a perfectly good ten dollar bottle of Melatonin if I could use it.

And trying to make her understand the whole Medicare prescription plans is pointless. You HAVE to ask for pre-approval for brand name drugs or they just substitute it with something similar that is generic. That’s how I ended up with Celexa even though she prescribed Lexapro. It has always been this way as far as my script plan goes. And she sat there telling me, no, it doesn’t work that, no other patient she has with Medicare has any problem getting brand names, blah blah blah.

There are times I just want to beat my head against the wall.

BUT if what she said is true about Cymbalta actually helping ease the withdrawal symptoms from Effexor, that would be a good thing. I swear these meds are giving me brain damage, I can’t type properly anymore, I go to speak and get my words garbled…They wonder why we’d rather be sick than take this crap, but honestly. Do we know what this is doing to us long term?

Knowing I don’t have much choice since all other avenues have been exhausted doesn’t make it any better. Talk therapy, light therapy, color therapy, chakra therapy, hypnosis, herbal supplements, diet and exercise…I have tried everything short of electroshock and an exorcism and I still haven’t ruled out the exorcism.

Oh, well. Onward. Hope for the best.









Quickie post before having my head shrunk

Posted in mental illness on November 29, 2012 by morgueticiaatoms

isn’t it false advertisement to call them headshrinkers? I’ve been going for 20 years and my head has yet to shrink down one single size.


Stupid med withdrawal.

And another misconception.

Withdrawal means you crave what you are withdrawing from, like booze or drugs. (Illegal drugs.)

I don’t want any more Effexor, ffs. I just want it out of my system.

I see the shrink today, she had a cancellation and they got me in two weeks early. I am spazzing out from coming off Effexor and it is wreaking havoc on my life and functionality. I have done some research and have a thought to run by her. I don’t know if she will be conducive but wish me luck, guys.

Before my brain climbs out of my skull and hits me with a shovel while I am not looking.


For Sale: Used slightly unreliable brain with multiple defects

Posted in anxiety disorders, biolar disorder with tags , , , , , on November 28, 2012 by morgueticiaatoms

Cute title,no? Kinda just hit me cos Bex has always said when I die, she wants to put my brain in a jar on her desk. We have warped senses of a humor. But there is a reason I went with that title/theme this morning at the sucky hour of 6 am (thank you alarm clock Spooky.) Let me explain, because while it may seem like long winded prattling, the dots connect in my head. And it’s relevant to my thoughts at this moment, hang in there with me,please.

I am a dinosaur,inasmuch that I do not relish texting or talking on the phone or Facebook.

I still use Windows Live Messenger, even though Bex is the only person I know who still uses it. I refuse to be assimilated to the other forms of communication others are so fond of. I am not Borg. What I have always loved about IM is that it’s the perfect real time talk for people who have severe social anxiety. Like me. I get so tongued when trying to talk sometimes, I come off like a hyperactive bunny on a bad acid trip. IM lets me have time to put my thoughts into words without just opening mouth and inserted both feet,shoes,socks, and all.

Another plus of Windows Live IM (I absolute loathe all things Yahoo, but that’s another story entirely) is the custom emoticons. I am told it is childish, outdated, superfluous, blah blah, to use emoticons these days beyond a simple smiley. Yet emoticons make it sooo simply to depict your meaning, your thoughts, it’s just concise with a sense of whimsy to it. Many times I have thought in actual verbal communication, misunderstandings of my intent could have been avoided if I had simply been able to use the msn emote with the tongue sticking out. Obviously indicating sarcasm or a lack of seriousness. My voice apparently does not do this adequately and my sense of humor leaves much to be desired with the masses.

In terms of my mental state at times…there is this animated emote Bex gave me a looongg time ago that shows a smiley emote sweating and looking distressed and then it’s brain pops out of its head.

THAT is how I feel 98% of the time.

Long story to explain a little thing but that’s me, sorry.

Yesterday I was feeling pretty positive and good before the job interview. I got there early, and read while I waited. I was actually giving myself pats on the back for being in a good mental state and not freaking out.

Then five minutes before time to go face the lady.,..the panic swept in and kicked my ass and I started sweating and hyperventilating and my heart was trying to bounce its way out of my chest cavity.

I had to take a Xanax because my head was swimming and all logic was just flying away with my rapid heartbeat. I could just see that emoticon in my head, depicting exactly how I was feeling. One minute in control, next minute brain popping out of my skull.

But I nutted up and went inside and turned out, she was very laid back, bubbly, friendly, and I liked her. It was not a long interview, but it went pretty well. I tried to address my problems in the past while putting forward all of the progress I have made and the skills I have pertinent to the job duties. It’s my idea job, part time, flexible hours, casual dress code. I want it badly.

Which means I won’t get it, because she is interviewing people all the way til the end of next week. I may have the skills but I have come to find they always go for someone with stability over drive and ability.

Stability is not my forte, thanks to my stupid defective brain never acting the way it should.

It went well, and I want to be hopeful, but I own my past and I know in all likelihood it will continue to haunt me. After a year, I was just glad to get an interview anywhere.

After surviving that, I went the shop where R was not having a good day. And what does my brain decide is appropriate mode to go into?


So I am bouncing off walls, talking like a chatterbox, seemingly happy…and he thinks it is at his expense, like I am taunting him for having a bad day.

Thanks a lot, Brain.


Then I went to yank some capacitors off a board and i got them all…and forgot in what order they went back. Just blanked out. Like some magnet erased my hard drive. I don’t know if it’s the med situation or lack of focus, but wow. That sucked.

I was glad to come home.

I didn’t even bother eating. As soon as Spook was down, I crawled into bed with the movie Brainscan playing and went to sleep.

Today I am dealing the insurance company lady. She’s coming here this morning to look at my car’s damage. She’s going to see the hood I live in, the elderly car I drive, and I’ll be lucky if they offer enough for a Happy Meal.

But my contingency plan is having my dad and his woman here, I bought the car from them, they know exactly how much is tied up in it, what it would go for at auction, et al.

I will not be laying down and keeping the peace on this one. I was sitting at a stop sign for fuck’s sake. I had no blame whatsoever except for leaving the house.

They will either put my car back the way it was, or get me a better car. period.

That has me in a rather anxious agitated mood, dealing with red tape mongers pisses me off.


Long post about fuck all.

It’s mental purging.

I needed to do it.

Anyone who bothered to read, thanks. You have the patience of a saint.



Get me a shovel, life keeps piling it on

Posted in Uncategorized on November 27, 2012 by morgueticiaatoms

So yesterday day I got a quarter mile from home, stopped at a stop sign…and some crazy bitch plowed into my driver side fender and door.

Spook and I were not hurt.

Christine, my beloved 88 Caprice, however, is fucked up. I was soo mad and well…emotionally traumatized. My poor poor baby. I love that car, even if everyone else thinks it’s a dinosaur. I love those old box style tanks. And had I not been driving a tank, the crazy lady’s car would have been in the car with us and I probably would have had a broken leg from the angle at which we were smashed into. She didn’t slow down, she just slammed into us. Bloody hell,, that was not a good morning.

On the plus side, Dad and his woman came to town and with some prying and pounding got the fender undented enough to make the car driveable.


(I call her Christine in honor of the car from the Stephen King novel, not because she is evil, but because I kinda wish she was.)

Ironically,  the woman who hit me has the fitting last name “Batty.”

You can’t make this shit up.

I am still shaken, and toss in more sheer panic for today…


Instant basketcase on top of yesterday’s fiasco.

I feel like I am careening out of control on some busted roller coaster ride with everything coming at me. Christmas, bills, this interview, now worrying about whether her insurance company will even cough up enough to put Christine back as she was.

Life has a sadist’s sense of humor.

Oh well. Some days you’re the dog, and some days you’re the hydrant.

As of late I have been the hydrant.

I am however proud of myself because as fucked up as yesterday was, as soon as the car could be driven, I was right at the shop. Neither rain nor sleet nor snow nor some crazy lady assaulting my beloved car…


It hurts to look at her.

Everyone is like, “what about your kid, aren’t you even worried about her?”

Of course, my kid was my first concern. But she was in the back in her seat, far from impact zone, and she was fine, did not even cry,

I was up and walking.

So, kid fine, mom fine…

I feel justified in mourning the one true victim there. Christine. She is the one who is all banged up. Old and outdated she may be, but the car runs like a dream and has less than 100,000 actual miles on it. For an 88, that is a big deal.

My baabbyy.

I am prattling because I am really nervous about my interview. There are 7 other people so I probably don’t have a chance. But fingers crossed.

I think all in all…with the med situation, and yesterday, and all…

I am upright and functioning. That counts for something right.

Wish me luck.


Posted in mood disorders on November 26, 2012 by morgueticiaatoms

In a word, my mood today, is pissy.

The phone rang four times last night, it was R. I didn’t answer it. Didn’t want to. Not in the mood to hear him prattle on about business and his personal issues and how everything is hunky dory because he’s too drunk to care seven nights a week.

It is an absolute kick in the face to work so hard to fix the things everyone tells you are wrong with you, while everyone around just remains the same self absorbed mental trainwreck. It’s like YOU are the only person with a problem, they are fine as is, and if you can’t accept them that way, well, you’re not a good person.


I have a mood disorder I did not ask for, do not have control over, and medicate myself to the gills to correct…And that’s a character flaw. I got to counseling pretty much changing everything about myself others find so distasteful and problematic..but I “owe” this to society?

Yet being a narcissistic alcoholic asshole, by choice, is not a problem.

Being a self absorbed nasty tempered self contradicting witch is not a problem.


I don’t fucking think so.

Now, given I am not in a great place right now and few months down the road I may reread this and think, wow you are a crazy bitch, Niki.

I doubt it. This has been piling up over years and years, sparked into flame by the Donor, who is an even bigger bucket of neuroses, yet he was happy being that way. I was the one with issues that needed to be changed, even though a lot of my issues were sparked by his issues.


Why can’t I just be the moody grumpy up and down bitch that I am? Why am I the only one who has to make changes?

Oh, right, because I want to be a better version of myself.

And why am I the only one who even has the desire to become a better person?

So what is the point of this post?

I have no idea.

It seems to help to vent. I haven’t seen my counselor in two months because she is on surgical leave til Dec 17th, so I have no one to talk to about all this stuff. It’s boiling up and poisoning me.

I am on the fence on what to do today. Do I answer the phone if R calls?

How is that going to benefit me?

Because he will pull the same old shit, ask me what’s wrong, tell me to talk to him, then complain if what I say involves being angry at him.

(I am the phone with my dad and he is prattling on about Obamacare, one of my big hot topic buttons because I think its insane to fine people for being too poor to have health insurance…Have I mentioned how much I hate the world?)

(Oh, another daddy lecture on how people who don’t work and are on disability are worthless. I feel so loved.)

Where was I?

I have no idea.

I am such a trainwreck at the moment.

I’ll post again later when I remember what I wanted to post about other than feeling pissed off. Mind is kind of running off without me.





Condition: Coming Unhinged

Posted in mental illness with tags , , , on November 25, 2012 by morgueticiaatoms

I am not doing well this morning.

I am angry at certain people and not sure if it’s warranted because they did indeed screw me over or if it’s just some crazy conspiracy affront my own warped mind has concocted.

I am agitated to infinity and beyond, every sound and action grating on my nerves. It’s all I can do to keep a civil tongue with my kid because she always knows when mommy is at her worst and it’s open season to act out, pick, pick,pick, push push push,as hard as she can and smile while watching mommy come unraveled.

My anxiety is through the fucking roof in spite of a mg of Xanax.

I feel like my skeleton is trying to crawl out of my skin.

I want to set fire to my own brain.

I can find absolutely no reason why life is worth living at this time.

I hate everything and everyone, and especially I hate myself.

Face it. I did this to myself. I’d gone through Effexor withdrawal twice before, I knew the hell it introduced. Still, I told the doctor I wanted to try Effexor again because in the past it had given me a couple of years’ high functionality. Desperation breeds stupidity.

Bucket of fail. Paying the price.

I have been stepping down for six weeks now.  Soon,I will enter two weeks of 37.5 then…free fall into nothing.

I am told the anger stems from the withdrawal.

Lest it by my own hubris at work, I won’t unequivocally dismiss that possibility.

But having done this twice before and going to paranoid hallucinating scared of her own shadow territory, I can honestly say the anger is an anomaly.

Unless you ask The Donor,  whose single most memorable quote to me was “You are one angry bitch.”

Eh, I have my anger issues, but it’s rarely like a fever  flowing through my veins.

So…effexor withdrawal…wellbutrin side effect…my natural state of being.

I don’t know any more. Little of all three perhaps?

I feel for anyone going through any sort of withdrawal from this class of drugs. It tests your psyche and today, my psyche is losing, big time. I just want to curl up into a ball and sleep, not have to face the way I am feeling because I can’t escape it. This is not some case of “do something you enjoy to distract yourself”. This is physical and mental and all consuming and until things get settled down a couple of months down the road…this is my lot in life,for now.

Joy joy happy happy.

I don’t think I want to try Wellbutrin again. From the first day, there were things going on in my head that weren’t there prior to it going into my system, and I think it may just be a bad reaction. That happens sometimes. I almost died from a bad reaction to a medication back in 2000. Not unheard of.

Leaves the question…what then?

I don’t know. Surviving the here and now seems to take precedence.

Though sometimes just surviving the day feels like an impossible task because I am at war with my own body and mind.





Getting my ass kicked by the medi-go-round

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on November 24, 2012 by morgueticiaatoms

Long time, no post, I know.

Since I started coming off the Effexor and was put on Wellbutrin, life has gone to hell in a handbasket.

Counselor and doctor swear the agressive angry tear soaked tantrums I’ve been having for six weeks are from Effexor withdrawal.

I think they are full of shit and I have pretty much put it to the test by stopping the Wellbutrin without dr approval.

Oh,sure Effexor withdrawal blows, the lethargy and brain zaps and mental confusion are soul sucking.

But…it’s been five days and I have not had another screaming mimi tearfest.

I am still weaning off Effexor, I just nixed the Wellbutrin. Primary problem seems to be going away.

Well, except for yesterday, but that was more internal anger, which coincides every single month with the curse, so I chalk that up to hormones. Though the pms-anger really isn’t something people should joke about. It’s like a fever of unknown origin burning through your entire system. Not pleasant.

But I have not been screaming, bashing my head into walls, throwing shit and acting like an all around psychopath.


I am still so low I’d have to look up to see a snake’s belly but choosing depression over a drug that makes you act like Linda Blair in the exorcist seems wiser to me.

Besides, it’s the seasonal affect disorder in all its glory with the added strain of holidays and financial stress on top of it all, so I am actually exactly on track for where I am mentally every other year in history at this time.

Not a comfort, but keeping the status quo, yada yada.

I called the dr office and told them I want off the Wellbutrin. (You can never be honest with doctors, that;s just crazy talk, cos they know everything and all their books and literature are far more accurate on drug side effects than ya know, the person taking the drug having them.) Of course with the holiday dr is out of office,so I await their call. Knowing this woman, she will insist I stay on the Wellbutrin.

Not fucking happening.

I have never had such a side effect from a med before.

I have,however, been through Effexor withdrawal three times, and I know all about the brain zaps, the exhaustion, the confusion of reality versus mental state, potential auditory and visual hallucinations, the paranoia, the panic, the terror.

Never once was I homicidally angry.

I didn’t rule it out, that was why I stayed on the Wellbutrin, lest it just be my hubris at work.

Having proven it to myself by ceasing the Welbutrin, I am convinced.

I hate this shit. Fucking hate it. Lately I have been wondering if I shouldn’t just try to exist on the Lamictal alone. This whole anti depressant route has never ever worked out for me, ever.

Maybe I’m not depressed,maybe this downtrodden life-is-not-worth-living thing is just my normal state of mental being.

The dark hours, where all will to live seeps out of  me and I start fantasizing about passive ways to just cease to exist (God knows you can’t mention the word suicide, because no matter how bad you feel, that’s an unacceptable thing to ponder, ever.) The dark hours tell me I need something extra to help me out of the rabbit hole.

But what?

I have tried about everything. And the ones I haven’t tried are the ones my insurance won’t pay for it.

So what’s left?

I guess surviving Effexor withdrawal and the holidays need to be my priorities right now.

Then deal with the doctor trying to shove anti psychotics on me. I’m not psychotic,or wasn’t until I married the Donor or took Wellbutrin. (small joke.) I understand the cross labeling and uses for different conditions, blah blah blah.

But I have tried several of those and other than making me even heavier than I am and putting me into a coma for 12 hours a day, they didn’t fuckin g help at all.

Do these doctors even have a clue what antipsychotics do to a person? Oh, sure, they’ve come along way, in as much most don’t turn you into a drooling zombie these days.

But if you are heavy to begin with, constantly battling people and doctors nagging you about how you have to lose some weight then you go taking a med that puts 20-30 pounds on you even if you eat nothing but water and live on a treadmill…That’s worse for your condition, not better.

Not to mention the sleepiness and mental fog and the fact,in my case, THAT THEY DO NOT FUCKING WORK.

Gahhhhh.. I am so frustrated.

I keep putting on the normal functional person mask every day, and I get more resentful every day I have to do it. It makes me aware that I have NO friends or caring family members or otherwise I wouldn’t have to fake it in their presence, they’d understand. But none of them do. Take a pill, be better, move one. That’s the mentality. Though most scoff at the taking a pill thing, because even if it does improve my condition, well, mental conditions aren’t real, they’re just part of the pharmaceutical company conspiracy to make us all dependent on drugs and line their pockets with money.

I am surrounded by fucking multiple Tom Cruise clones.

(And yes I am using the F word a lot, but it helps me channel my anger rather than, you know, setting people on fire.)

(Another little joke. Sorta.)







I am sick of R and Kenny making comments on being my being snippy or not myself when I flat out told them what’s going on, albeit I did dummy it down a lot for their comprehension and left out a chunk of reality to protect them from the ugliness of it all.

Withdrawal from Effexor is worse than going off Xanax, for me.

There really is no stepping down from Effexor. Sure, you can do two weeks at 150, 2 weeks at 75, two weeks at 37.5

Then you’re looking at another two weeks to a month of neverending brain zaps which is akin to having an electroprobe in your brain and some little sadist off somewhere with a remote control zapping you every so often with varying degrees of intensity.

Oh what fun.

And the ignorant masses think we put ourselves through all these medications and side effects and withdrawal because it’s fun or something?

It’s been so long since I knew what is an actual physical symptom and what is a medication side effect, I could be dying of some disease and not even know it. The meds make you question every ache, every gas bubble, even changes in bathroom habits and menstrual cycles.

I would not choose this in a gazillion years if it weren’t for the years long hard lesson learned proving I have a condition that needs medicated.


I just need to find my genie in a bottle, ie, the magic bullet, ie, the one drug that works. I am quite happy with Lamicatal for the mood swings, but the depression just keeps seeping in and mopping the floor with me.

First things first,I suppose.

Avoid Wellbutrin like the plague and focus on getting off Effexor.

Do you ever get sick of your own melodrama? I am so tired of my roller coaster of a life. Look, I’m doing good.

Oh,look, I’m not doing so well.

Hey, I’m going under here…

Oh, wait, I’m doing great again.

No, wait…

Bloody hell.

I’m sick of my disorders, sick of myself, sick of the world, sick of it all.

Unfortunately, they don’t make pills for disgust.