Archive for June, 2013

F*cking emotional!

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on June 30, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

My dad’s crew just left.

My kid is crying over her diaper rash. As if I am indeed speaking Japanese trying to teach her to use a toilet so she doesn’t get a diaper rash from the pull-ups.

My mind is a mine field of misfiring emotions and discombobulated thoughts. It’s making me want to die. At this moment, I feel so alone, so shitty, like such an incompetent misfit, that I should be sentenced to death.

It sounds so pathetic and dramatic and yet the misfiring chemicals and hormones are all at war, putting these thoughts into my head, making me just emotionally wonky enough to buy into the party line about how horrid I am as a person.

The stepmonster read to my kid.

All I could think was, “God, I am such a failure, when I read, the kid won’t pay attention two seconds.”

I got texts from R, telling me how fantastic his party was and I should have been there and a mutual friend neither of us had seen in 10 years was even there…

And that got me thinking, “Wow, Shane couldn’t be bothered to call or drop in and meet my kid, but he could go to a drunken shindig for R. I really am chopped liver.”

And feeling that way makes me view myself as so pathetic and weak.

Because ultimately, not going was my choice. The cramps were a factor, but mainly, I just didn’t want to face the social anxiety. I’d like to think it was a controlled decision. A choice.

Fact is, I let the disorder kick my ass.

And I apparently missed one hell of a shindig.

But not being there isn’t the problem.

It’s the fact that Shane, who I loved dearly, did not even send me a text while he was in town. I knew him before he ever met R, and yet, for R he could be there. He’s never even met Spook.

God, I am making myself want to puke with all these bullshit thoughts.

I am the one who chose not to go, yet here I am feeling all victimized? What the fuck is wrong with me?

And three posts in one day, wow, that’s how you know I am feeling really mental. When I am stable, I don’t have much to talk about. Today is not one of those days because stable has left the building, leaving behind this husk of a pathetic whiny bitch who can’t regulate her own emotions, can’t shake off the Seroquel cobwebs, and can’t stop thinking death is the only thing I am worthy of because I am such a waste of space.

Perhaps the hardest thing about any of it and all of it is that the bottom line is: I have never belonged anywhere in my life. I don’t fit. Anywhere. With anyone.

And because I am socially programmed to feel bad about it, I do.

But the fact of the matter is, I much prefer being alone and doing my own thing. When you have to drink just to enjoy someone’s company, then obviously you’re not meshing. And that’s how it has been with everyone I have ever known for the most part.

I’m not arrogant enough to think it’s anything but my own failing.

And in my current state, feeling like a giant failure is not going to go any place good. It is likely going to be one of those nights where I force myself to bed early, hoping for the brain “reboot” that comes with sleep so I can wake up in a different mind space.

I don’t know if I will feel better tomorrow, though. Probably won’t start to level off hormonally until Wednesday.

Now if that isn’t depressing, what is?

God, just to feel like there is ONE THING I can do right.

And be able to believe it beyond the next mood swing.

My goals are modest.


Just say no

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , on June 30, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

To Seroquel. I even had an energy shot in hopes of being revived, but I am still the walking dead. Yet now that I have my kid down for a nap, my brain keeps telling me I am sleepy but I can’t sleep.

I am all crampy and my dad has decided today is a good day to bring me a new kitchen table, which will require rearranging stuff when all I want to do is stare off into space and embrace my misery.

And I am miserable. My mood is so low right now, I could easily just curl up and die.

I know new meds screw with you and take time to kick in, but the last time I felt this absolutely shitty was back in the 90’s when they put me on Serzone and I had this mega bad reaction.

I cannot believe on 25 mg dose of Seroquel has managed to drag me down so far. I’d been doing okay. I know the hormonal thing doesn’t help but this is ridiculous.

I’ve forced myself to get up and do some housework but it’s like my entire body is coated with Novacaine. I could walk into a wall and not feel it. I sent the neighbor kids home this morning, I had just had all I could take. The walls are closing in on me, I can’t keep up with the housework and the cats and the finances and my kid is becoming an unholy terror that I am almost scared of at times…

My brain is coming undone.

I know it will pass, happens every month, but I never really get used to it.

Twenty minutes after I sent Damiana home with the admonition “We’re not having any more c0mpany today”, she came knocking on the door and asked if she could come in.


Then my kid grabs a kitten by the throat and I correct her and she starts blubbering, “You scared me, you scared me, are you sorry you scared me?” Never mind the cat she just choked. Never mind how many times she has been corrected and KNOWS she is doing wrong. The manipulation never ends. And even R has started to see it. The child is a budding sociopath. Which all kids are,but because of my issues, I am starting to feel like I’ve already damaged her horribly or maybe it’s just junk dna between her father and I. It’s like I can’t even tell her no because even if I whisper it, I get the same fit, like I smacked her or something. That is pure manipulation and I don’t like it because it not only scares me, it makes me not like my kid very much. I love her, but when she acts like that, it’s hard to like her. I keep telling myself she is a normal kid, I am doing fine as a mom…

But at least at this time, I don’t believe it. I feel like I did something, maybe just the act of existing, to screw her up in the head. And while kids have imaginations, she has started telling wild stories about how her daddy works at a bank (gas station) and has black hair (long blond hair) and wears glasses (no glasses) and takes her all these places and buys her things and oh, the most asinine of all, he loves cats. None of which is true and I am trying to roll with the punches and not freak out, let the kid have her fantasy world, it’s my fault for choosing an unworthy sperm donor…

I just bite my tongue but I want to cry, because I am the one busting my ass and mind every day trying to juggle everything while he has no responsibility but here she is giving him all this credit. Yes, it’s her imagination, and yes, I know I am being ludicrous. Doesn’t make the emotional distortion go away.

On the bright side, I did one good deed for the day. One of the stray cats has kittens under my trailer and Damiana’s brother brought me one that was ice cold and nearly dead…I warmed it up, spoon fed it milk, kept it inside, and it revived and went back outside with its litter mates. I don’t know if it will make it but it was walking on its own volition so I will take that as a good sign. If it does live, I am going to call it Lazurus. Because it truly was knocking on death’s door.

Now…I am going to get back to dreading my existence and the upcoming visit from my dad (Nothing personal, just off my nut at the moment). I am NOT taking any more Seroquel. Like, ever again.

I’d rather gargle razor blades with a bleach chaser.

The vortex of suck that is the aftermath of Seroquel

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on June 30, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

My kid had Damiana stay over last night, and it coincided with the start of shark week. I thought, what can it hurt to start the 25 mg Seroquel at bedtime?

Ha ha ha ha ha ha.

One 25 mg pill has given me ten hours of lethargy, narcolepsy, gauze brain, Novacaine fingers, grouchiness…

I had a shrink who used to give me 25’s for panic attacks and I remember it doing nothing for me at such a low dose, not even sleepiness. Not to mention it does fuck all for panic anyway.

Now one little low dose pill and I am basically the walking dead. I am grinding my teeth to stay awake as I write this, having to stop every other word because my fat numb fingers aren’t hitting the right keys.

I have cramps. Damiana is on my last nerve. One of the “magnets”, as I call him, came around last night sniffing about. (As in, I am a LOSER magnet, ya know, 40 year old guy, no job, stoned 24-7…Not a bad person just not my cup of tea.) I dropped hints as subtle as anvils to make him go away. Of course when you live in such a perpetually stoned state, I guess everything seems like a joke. Because “I am PMS-ing and in a really bad mood” is of course very vague.

Loser. Magnet. That is me.

I had hopes for Serqouel and this shark week disorder. But I absolutely cannot do this walking dead thing. My kid woke up three times during the night and it was all I could do to pry myself up and amble about like a zombie in search of brains. I felt so disconnected and the overwhelming need to sleep was staggering. How can anyone function like that? I guess everyone responds differently. But this tells me Seroquel ain’t gonna work for me, I cannot spend a week a month zonked on this shit.And it’s hard to build a tolerance to side effects if I am only going to take them 7 days a month. It will virtually mean repeating this somnolence bit every single month.




I tried being positive, keeping an open mind.

Which is why I feel like I am covered in bubble wrap and gauze stumbling into doorways and unable t0 type properly because my fingers don’t feel connected to my brain.

Fuck positive.

I’m gonna embrace my negativity and hump its leg.

As soon as I manage to stop drooling and thinking about warm mooshy brains while shambling about.

Seroquel= instant zombie


Social Anxiety Wins Again

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on June 30, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

Shark week has arrived, bringing with it the usual pain, exhaustion, and low mood. Thus far no psychotic crying episodes or abrupt polar changes in the mood. Just this all over ache, cramps, no energy, and a distinct lack of desire to be near anyone. The norm for me. I will take the Seroquel at bedtime for the next 7 days, see if it helps any with the altered mental status that accompanies the monthly curse. I have been told this is not the sort of thing to write about, but when you have hinky brain chemicals to begin with, then for a week every month, you have hormones tossed into the mix, it’s all relative. So maybe it’s an overshare but it is not for anything other than accuracy in talking about how my mental states change.

We had two birthday parties we were invited to today.

We have attended neither.

The first one, a kid’s party for some boy my kid knows via my sister, I wasn’t even informed of til Thursday night, which pisses me off. I don’t do spontaneous, I like some preamble and warning. So when my kid got busy playing with Damiana, I didn’t even open my m0uth about the party and she forgot about it. Which was a great relief to me because going to a water park to endure hours of screaming kids and forcing social niceties with people I have nothing in common with, not to mention my mother’s attendance and ensuing critcisms…Well, psychologically traumatic events do not fill me with enthusiasm, and the social anxiety makes it damn near unbearable. Having managed to avoid it, even passive aggressively, allowed me to breathe a little. One day I will have to get over it, cos my kid should be able to go to parties and play with other kids. Just not today.

R’s party is going on right now. Considering the torrential downpour at the moment, I’m feeling wise by not having gone. Truth is, prior to Spook and I taking an afternoon nap, I had planned on sucking it up and at least making an effort to go. Then, after I showered and had a chance to lay down…Scumbag brain began to riot.

“There will be sooo many people there, it’s a panic attack waiting to happen, you don’t need that.”

“There won’t be any parking, and if you manage to park, someone will block you in and you’ll be trapped!”

“It’s at Ursula’s house so you know you it will feel like you’re facing a firing squad!”

What about the bathroom situation? You know what crowds do to your anxiety and how your body responds…”

“R won’t even miss you, his entire family and fifty of his friends will be there…”

“You know Spook will act out, she does any time there’s an audience in which she can defy you in front of you, then the judgment will begin on how inept you are as a mother…”

The more the thoughts swirled, the faster my heart beat. The panic set in and the room felt like it was moving and the terror rose up from within to become walls closing in on me.

I wanted sooo bad to fight it, to overcome it.  I won’t die, right? Panic doesn’t kill anyone. Hell, I might have had a good time.

We’ll never know.

I woke up from the nap when Spook did, and her friend was back at the door and my cramps were kicking up, then it started pouring outside…My decision was made. Any other day I might have had the energy to battle the social anxiety. With aches and cramps and feeling utterly devoid of any energy other than panic induced rapid heartbeat…

Fuck it.

Call me rude. My mother will undoubtedly read me the riot act for not taking my kid to Jacob’s party.

I know R couldn’t care less if I am there. Hell, he didn’t even want to be there himself, the party of was forced on him. Maybe he’s submissive, I’m not. I don’t want to go. I don’t feel like it. So I’m not. Besides, I was at their house til almost midnight last night. I socialized. Enough for a whole week actually.

Now, Damiana and her brother are here. This girl does not know how to talk in a normal voice, she yells everything. My nerves don’t need this, but the alternative, though booze would likely be involved, would not be any better.

I sound like an anti social grinch.

Maybe I just am an anti social grinch.

But I feel the mental altered status setting in courtesy of shark week so this sort of anti social behavior might just be a wise choice. I tend to spaz and say things I should only think.

I hate something as simple as going to a damned party has to be so complicated by this damn social anxiety and panic.

I don’t want to be a complicated person.

But I am complicated.

Short of a lobotomy I don’t know how to be simple.

Fuck it.

I’m going to nurse my cramps and do some mental self flagellation for not being strong enough to get over the stupid social anxiety.

Fuck you, scumbag brain.

The Brain Game

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , on June 28, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

I was going along merrily today, existing, not dreading the whole act of breathing, thinking maybe life doesn’t suck as much as a Dyson vacuum…When the “Wow, I’m doing pretty damn good!” bubble exploded.

I came home with my kid, and she was like the Tazmanian devil. Wound for sound, and I don’t mean in a normal kid way. I mean OMG DID YOUR GRANDMOTHER POUR RAW SUGAR DOWN YOUR THROAT ALL DAY? Because if it wasn’t sugar high, then this child is going to be slapped with an ADHD label going into preschool.

She was mouthing, thrashing around, making noise, kicking cats, threatening to hit me….Which is about like the neighbor kids without their meds.

Thought a trip to the store might burn some energy out of her.

It did, but not much.

By the time I’d endured two hours of it and was wondering where I could get a melon baller to scoop my brain out of my head via the eyeballs…It hit me that I hadn’t had a xanax all day. Which would definitely explain why after three decent days I was beginning to come unglue from what is essentially a daily stressor. Of course, it takes me getting to the point of being so panicky that it turns to anger which turns to tears. Only then do I remember, yeah, take a pill. Literally, this one works.

After that, all was well. She started to wind down, I started to calm down.

I’ll be the first to admit this heat and humidity have not made me a pleasant person. I am less unpleasant now that the air works at home, but it makes me grossed out to go out in public and ooze sweat from every pore no matter what I do to head it off, hygiene wise. It ain’t pretty, but I am apparently a sweater. No, not that warm kind you can get in cool designs and wear during the winter.

Now that we are nearing the weekend and I have been informed my kid has been invited to a birthday party Sat morning, my anxiety and dread are rising. I don’t have money for a gift, ffs. And gee, thanks for the notice, because Sat is R’s party,too. But that won’t matter.I’d changed my mind about not going, thought what the hell, but oh wait, his oldest, Ursula, specified RSVP by the 20th and I didn’t even see it because ya know, I am blind and dumb and WHO THE FUCK DOES RSVP FOR A BRING YOUR OWN BOOZE PARTY????? That girl has forgotten her roots, big time, thinks she’s all fancy and now she’s dragging R along with it. Makes me glad I won’t be there. I can only handle so much bloody fuss and snottiness.

Which makes me feel snotty, but dear god, the man goes to work unshowered with the crotch ripped out of his pants and red underwear peeking out. Does that sound like an RSVP kind of guy to you? That girl of his…GRRRR. Must…be…nice.

Even though every fiber of my being would take great pleasure in undoing her fancy little life and reminding her where she came from. I’m all about comeuppance when people get too high and mighty. It may be my worst trait, actually. But I can’t tell because ya know, I have so many, according to my detractors aka friends aka people I am forced to interact with in the petri dish. Thing is, I don’t care. The entire point of watching serial killer stuff/books is for the specific purpose of seeing the bad guy finally get what’s coming to him. And if that kind of karma could be served in reality…well, it would be a nice little meal for my soul, which is petty and vindictive.

Brain game…

It behaved for awhile.

I am trying so hard to be less annoying (I think it makes me more annoying) and more positive (I think it makes me more annoying, not to mention nauseous.)

But the disorders, and the brain, just like to keep my jumping through the hoops of distortion.

Just an inkling of how demented my brain is…

Was driving by one of those ice slushie stands and the sign said “Today’s Flavor: Elmo!” And my first thought was, “So if Big Bird ordered one, would that be considered puppetalism? Feeding on your own kind?”

I’m curious what Elmo flavor is. Too lazy to stop in and ask, though. In this heat, ain’t nobody got time for that.

And I will part with a joke:

Martha and Edna are sitting outside, having a smoke, when it starts to rain. Martha takes a condom out of her pocket and proceeds to unroll it, then poke a hole in the and stick her cigarette through it. “It’s so my cigarette stays dry in the rain, works like a charm.” She explained to Edna.

Later that day, Edna goes to the pharmacy and tells the guy behind the counter she wants a box of condoms. He is uncomfortable, because, well, she is 80 years old. But he asks what brand she wants and she says, “Doesn’t matter as long it will fit a camel.”

Counter guy fainted.


banal, bored, bummed

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , on June 26, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

Ever have one of those days where you’re *there*, doing what you should be doing (work, child care, et al) but mentally, you’re kind of *not there* ?

That was today for me.

It was R’s 50th b-day so I took him in meatloaf. (I do have the ability to be nice.) People were in off and on all day with b-day wishes for him. One of his friends, Lisa, and I decided immediately we liked each other. Just that rare occasion when two unfamiliar people get to chatting and actually click.

I had my checklist done before 1pm. Dropped hints like anvils to get him to complete a form so I could go run errands,which I told him right off I wanted to do. Of course, hints didn’t work so I went full blown bossy (DO IT NOW!!!) and that finally got it done. Right around the time I’d normally leave anyway. GRRRRR. Waste of my days when I can get my stuff done so quickly then have to sit around waiting for him to get his shit together because he swears he cannot juggle it all without me. (I call bullshit.) Frankly, Jaba The Hut could be there, as long as it saved the man from being alone and doing the banal work he hates.

But I was NICE because it was his birthday.

Although when his mom spent several minutes chatting with me, hugging me in greeting and goodbye, and his well wishing friends came in and they all really like me…All I could think was, dear god, everyone likes me but R. Why am I here again? My annoying ass wants to go home and not be reminded daily of the fact he’s so tough on me yet so tolerant of everyone.

But I was NICE because it was his birthday.

Plus, my mood wasn’t all that bad.

UNTIL around 2 pm or so…For some reason it just started to free fall towards Gutterland.

But by the time I got home, I was feeling level again.

Then in the midst of my kid acting out, my cats being underfoot, and ripping a chunk of my flesh off on a protruding nail while slamming my finger in the door…

The dam broke and the anxiety erupted and went on the attack. My kid is singing the Barney song over and over and over and over and touching my stuff she’s been told not to touch and the cats are doing meowapalooza and it all just bubbled over.

I was NICE because things go wrong, kids get hyper and annoying, cats are the same, accidents happen…But my brain was really thinking ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, THIS IS FUCKING RIDICULOUS, WHO THE FUCK’S CHEERIO’S DID I PEE IN?

(I swear a lot when angry or mid panic or well, when breathing, it’s a venting thing.)

I took a beat, put in the potty training video I my kid from the library, and after watching it a sixth time…she zonked out on me before 8 pm. And seeing her beside me, little pouty lips sticking out, eyes closed, looking so sweet…The relief was immediate. Not that she was asleep because chances are she will wake up around 11 pm. The relief was because all the things that moments before had me ready to claw my own eyeballs out…Amounted to nothing. I have this amazing kid who makes me laugh as much as she makes me mad. Any time I doubt in the goodness of the world,she is my reality check.

Sometimes it’s enough to keep my scumbag brain demons at bay, sometimes not.

Tonight it was. Now, I am going to post this, and retire to my bedroom with one of my library books and try not to think about any of these stressors. I have run the mood gamut today and it’s exhausting and frustrating and…Even scumbag brains need rest.

Stuff ‘n things

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , on June 24, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

Why the title? Because this is gonna be a Seinfeld episode entry. Much ado about nothing. Why? Because I can. Furthermore, since nothing cataclysmic has happened, but venting is still good for the soul, I feel the need to purge.

Spent last night at a friend’s house watching Dr. Who. Was not planned, but my kid fell asleep and it was like, why bother driving home at this hour and waking her up?

She slept. I was awake til one a.m. Because I do not sleep well outside of my comfort zone. It isn’t even that I am uncomfortable in other people’s homes, they make me feel very welcome. But for some odd reason, being outside my safe space is not conducive to me resting properly. I should have taken a Trazadone with me, I suppose, but again, it was impromtu. Dr. Who (Smother eps) was freaking AWESOME, btw. He is growing on  me. Probably just in time for a new one to take over.

Speaking of new things. The sunshine spewer has tendered her notice, she got another job, which means I will be getting a new counselor. I was surprised, but not shocked, as it happens way too often in this town. Just when you get accustomed to a doc/therapist/etc, they leave for greener pastures because this place is on life support. I took it pretty well, actually, didn’t crash my mood or anything. But I think I will miss her. I mean, the new one I am being assigned to is my brother’s counselor, and he loves her, but since “deviation is evil” is my constant mind set, I worry about the time it will take to bond with someone new.

I’m trying to keep an open mind and be positive. Change doesn’t always equal suckage.

Did not have a bad day. Mood was up, in spite of Kenny being there, making my presence redundant. But I was requested so I went in and in the process of reassembling a projo TV I stripped for parts, I put the wrong back on it. Ooooops. Definitely the brain was on sleep deprivation vacation today. Honestly, though, all the tvs look alike to me. The only difference is the type of TV-projo, DLP, DILA, lcd, led, plasma, crt. You stick me in a room with four RCA projos all disassembled, yeah, I’m gonna mix them up because THEY ALL LOOK BLEEDIN’ THE SAME TO ME.

No major mood shifts or anxieties or personality triggers. I felt good (aside from the dead brain thing) and it was a good day. I left a half hour early, only to find my kid had fallen asleep 5 minutes before.

Well, unless one has nerves of steel and death wish, you don’t wake the Spookster. So I said I’d come back and if she woke up, call me, I’d be right there. I never ever want my kid to think I forgot about her or left her. She’s already had one parent do that. Not on my watch, she’s my spawn and I love her even when I want to put a muzzle on her.

Came home and the most amazzzing thing happened when I opened the door.

The place was actually COOL.

This is the first time in 4 years I can say this place has been cool,  no bullshit. It was sooo wonderful not to step into a sauna. Most people take something like that for granted. Having sweat our asses off for 4 years, Spook and I are loving this. May not love the power bill but it will certainly make four months of summer heat feel less sucky.

The *only* downside to the day, and it was actually more frustration than anything, was helping Nancy with her computer. She doesn’t understand basic principles, like using Google. I think the only sites she ever visits are Yahoo and Facebook. Which might explain why she has a bunch of Malware hijacking shit, which makes the other stuff not work. And some of it is so bad, it refuses to be uninstalled. She already had a reformat a year ago. Now she’s gone and gotten it all fucked up again. My advice to her, since it is running Vista, is to buy a new one. Vista has its fans, I am just not one of them. But really, what this woman needs is a Fisher-Price computer with the pictures on six keys. I am not making fun, just stating she is not computer literate and has no willingness or aptitude to improve her skills. She told me three steps to check her email was too complicated. I even tried to color code it- “orange” for firefox browser, purple  Y for yahoo, Mail button. How is that so complex?

What makes it so frustrating is she calls pretty much once a month and expects me to spend my fuel and my time all for free. And when I get called over for something as stupid as her muting the computer and not knowing she muted it (OH MY GOD, THE SOUND IS OUT!) it’s just asinine. I try to be patient, because God knows I am a slow learner and far from competent at 99% of stuff. It just gets very very frustrating.

Yep, I could find something to gripe about. But I’ve met people who never complain and just bottle stuff up and paste on a smile…I’m waiting for them to appear on the evening news perched in a clocktower.

I don’t want to be that person.

Now…I am gonna go lose my mind because not having my kid home with me feels too fucking alien. Maybe I have become to wrapped up in my identity as a mom.

I don’t think it’s harmful, though. I wouldn’t have a “My zombie ate your honor student” bumper sticker if I weren’t still me 😉