Archive for August, 2013

Mental Cycle

Posted in biolar disorder on August 29, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

10:10 pm, post Untethered entry.

I showered. Azazel is far from being lively but he did get up and stretch and move into the hallway. Maybe I am being too dramatic, saying he is dying. I think maybe I am simply because last time, with Castiel, he started showing little improvements and I was being a cheerleader…so it was double devastating when the little guy didn’t make it. And I am very attached to Zazel so maybe by assuming the worst I am hoping to fool the fates and get a good outcome?

I don’t know.

The only point of this second post is to show just how fast the cyclothymic shifts hit. I can’t say I blame the people who have been in my life and couldn’t deal with it. It is made ten times worse by withdrawal right now, but it’s the general idea. One minute I am coming apart, then I calm down, an hour from now I could be manic or back into a teary “fuck this” depression. It’s never static.

It is a mental cycle that never stops moving.

 

Untethered

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on August 29, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

I think I am losing my mind. I know I am losing my will to keep doing this living thing. It’s too hard, it’s too painful, and nothing I do is ever going to be right or amount to anything so what’s the point? I know it’s the fucked up brain chemicals talking but it feels pretty fucking real.

My cat came back and he is dying and there’s not a fucking thing I can do about it. And yes, I am a horrible person for being so selfish as to have a pet I can’t even afford to euthanize to put him at peace.

I also learned today that I am scum for getting food stamps (customer and cashier talking), oh, and single mothers are the reason kids turn out bad so the kids would be better off dead than raised by them.

The nausea is neverending. The 95 degree heat is not making it better. I am just flying off the handle over every tiny thing and now I am crying and I was having panic attacks and the brain zaps just never fucking stop, it’s like having a damn pacemaker deep in your brain that just randomly zaps you for no reason.

I am untethered, unglued, and I’m not even sure I should be loose right now. Part of me thinks I should be a damn looney bin.

It should not be this hard to come off an anti depressant, ffs, what the fuck is this? I thought Effexor was the worstl. I was beyond wrong. I seriously want to die right now, because everything just seems so futile. I need to regroup. I need to take a cool shower  take a xanax, and just calm the fuck down.

But if I calm down then all the bad thoughts get louder.

It’s so fucked up because prior to 4 pm I had had a decent day, sans brain zaps and nausea. Then those hellish girls showed up and my stress level skyrocketed and my mood went to shit. I can’t do a goddamn thing for my cat. I have buried too many damned cats this summer. And it upsets me more than when a family member dies.

I don’t understand life. What’s the whole fucking point to being born only to die? And why do some people get a long life and some people barely get a life at all and others find happiness then die the next day…I wish I had the faith to think it all serves a purposes but right now…

My soul is bleeding.

And scumbag brain says I am a useless piece of crap and I’d be doing my kid a favor if I died.

It would be easier to ignore if the world at large didn’t seem to agree.

This will pass, I know it will.

Just wondering if my sanity will be relatively in tact.

Next time, I’m just gonna shoot heroin. The withdrawal couldn’t be much worse and at least there’d be a high involved.

Kill

me

now.

**** Subject to change based on next mood swing

Freaky things abound

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

CYMBALTA WITHDRAWAL IS HELL ON EARTH.

Brain zaps, constantly. Feeling sleepy and lethargic, yet completely buzzing with anxiety. Disoriented, upset stomach, no focus, mood swings, yelling, snapping, I am barely coherent.

Today was pretty bad. Yesterday was worse, but it all sucks. This makes Effexor withdrawal seem minor league.

On top of it is the Lithium and all that it brings. My levels are normal. But I am living in a perpetual state of nausea, always feeling like I could throw up. If I don’t eat a morsel of some sort of food every hour or so, the nausea swoops down and I almost pray for death. Not even sick with food poisoning or the flu have I felt that kind of nausea. They say it’s not the medicine that puts weight on you, it’s the increased appetite.

 

Okay, I feel hungry more often than I did.

Thing is, NOTHING SOUNDS GOOD OR TASTES GOOD, THE FOOD MAKES ME WANT TO THROW UP.

My cat Azazel, I was told by witnesses, got hit by a car and hobbled off. He has not been seen since. I can only assume he is dead. And it is depressing and sooo sad and yet…Not so much as a teardrop. Just deadness inside.

I did not go to the shop today.  They are doing sewer work and have the entire block near there closed off. I didn’t feel like battling for a way in and where to park. Mostly, with the brain zaps affecting my ability to think clearly and be coordinated and of course, making me scream over the tiniest things…I can’t say I want to be near people right now. Withdrawal is bad enough without an audience of people who can’t grasp the concept that coming off an anti depressant could be that bad.

I am surrounded by idiots.

But hey, the exhaust on my car is fixed and R has pointed out multiple times how grateful I should be to him and his stepdad for spending three hours fixing it. Well, I am grateful and I would totally pay them if I ya know, had two nickels to rub together. If either of them ever need a kidney and ‘m a match, I’m down with it.  Cripes, I just despise having to have people help me. Because no matter how grateful you are it’s never enough. You’re basically at the mercy of “I did this for you, you owe me” for life.

I got that wifi card in my desktop. Un fortunately, the distance from the router is so that  I am getting a barely detectable signal. Plus, the media player won’t play ANY of my videos.

It’s been in the 90’s all week, which has been pretty miserable.

I just wish something would go right for a chance. I am like a vortex of suck, get near me and bad things happen to you,too.

Now I am exhausted. Of course, it means I lay down, all sleepy and bone weary and SCUMBAG BRAIN MUST SPIN AND CHURN AND DRIVE ME INSANE.

I took a Trazadone the other day. Thrown on the withdrawal lethargy it was like sleepwalking the next day. Suckage.

I need to take my Lithium and I should take it with food. But all food has taken on a nasty flavor and makes me feel sick.

Ever wonder if the side effects are really less than the benefits? Not seeming that way to me right now.

 

The joy(lessness) of Cymbalta withdrawal

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

I am at the shop. The entire exhaust is off my car dragging on the ground. R blew up, even though the exhaust system has needed replaced for the last six months and he chose to ignore it rather than fix it when I said I’d work the parts into my budget. He says I’ve got it all bent and fucked up. Yeah, it’s all me. Does any man on the planet do anything but pass the blame onto anyone but themselves or well, “shit happens,no one is to blame.”

I am wavering between tears of utter frustration and anger induced tantrums.

Welcome to coming off an anti depressant.

The brain zaps, the mental fog, feeling half drunk, like everything is wrapped in gauze…The irritability, the personality changes, the mood swings, the anger…

This is worse than any of other withdrawal I’ve been through. Those were physical ordeals, brain zaps, etc. This is mental and it has turned me into a pile of raw nerve endings with no clue if I am coming or going.

With all the medical marvels and miracles they have come up with…Why can’t they formulate anti depressants to avoid this withdrawal bullshit?

If this one is like Effexor. I am facing about six weeks of this crap. It will of course get better but with the way I am feeling, I am wondering if it will get better before I say or do something in some emotional fugue that can’t be undone.

I want to go curl up in bed and cry.

I want to rise above this whiny wimpy state and get on with life because shit happens.

(Brainzapzapzapzap)

My fingertips feel numb. Like I am wearing oven mitts on  my hands. I have already walked into two walls today.

Life is good.

NOT.

Mental bulimia

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

First…I am not in any way mocking bulimia.

But when you think about it…mental illness is a sort of bulimia. We take our lumps day in, day out, we struggle, we crash, it’s a binge/purge cycle. At least it is for me.

This week has been hellish. My nerves are so frayed that I did a double dose of Xanax just to untangle the nerve endings.

Today was go,go,go from the moment I woke. Took Spook to school, hit a couple of yard sales, came home, fixed hamburger helper for lunch, fed and watered the cats, then out the door. Took Spook to my mom’s and I went into the shop for four hours in the afternoon. And I didn’t hate being there. I seriously hate daywalking, I seem to do soo much better in the afternoon/evenings. Guess I am nocturnal. He had me running errands all over town fetching fuses and such. As soon as I left there, had to go to mom’s for an alleged birthday party for my nephew. Except he never appeared, the party was for the kid of one of my sister’s friends who we aren’t eve related to. And I’m still going WTF, why did we have to be there for people we barely know and don’t much care if we live or die.

Then more errands for R, and finally to his house, for Spook to play with the granddaughter. I didn’t even run home because I did not want to be besieged by bratty neighbor kids. Spook was being an ass, talking constantly while he was trying to watch a movie, so I just cried uncle and we came home shortly before ten.

Then I had to get her ready for bed, tend to the cats, and finally, I got to sit down and take a deep breath.

I hate days like this. Some people thrive on that go-go-go pace. It kills me. I will probably be an aching lethargic zombie all weekend because the week has just been that taxing.

I went in for my blood draw for a Lithium level today. Haven’t heard anything so I must not be in danger of dying from toxicity.

The all too familiar anti depressant withdrawal “brain zaps” have begun. Pretty mild at the moment outside of the way they just strike randomly. Maybe they won’t be too bad.

Now…I think I am just gonna fall face first into a pillow and recharge. But I can’t relax anymore because I feel like those two bratty neighbor girls are stocking us. One day they showed up at before 9 am, we weren’t even dressed or anything. It’s on my last nerve.  My home was my sanctuary. Now I look for ways to go out and avoid it until I know they’re in for the night. I cannot believe I am being bullied by children. There is something seriously wrong with me.

I made a comment about how I can’t do this, things are starting to slip, the stress is breaking me…And someone said, “You are doing it.”

Yeah. Just like every other time in my life when I was managing. When I was able to “do this”.

Until the day I woke up and had basically shut down and crawled up in the closet bawling. Until the day I woke up with a week’s worth of bagged trash ripped open and maggots on my carpet. Until the day I realized I hadn’t showered in two weeks and had nothing to wear but dirty laundry…and wore it.

That’s bipolar. The functional periods are great. They just never last with any set time period. The non functional periods are hell on earth where your will to live has abandoned you and you find yourself so far down in the mental gutter, you’re basically functioning at street hobo level.

So “You are doing it” means shit to me. I’ve lived my life hovering between the flip sides. The only consistency is that the shut down inevitably comes. Good intentions, strength, determination…None of it matters once depression swoops in. And by the time you see it coming, it’s too late, you’re in a hole so deep you can’t claw your way out.

I feel myself slipping, because the stress is just crushing me. Earlier, my kid was sassing me and the neighbor girl was basically shampooing S[pook’s hair with mud and neither of them would listen…And I muttered,”I am coming to fucking hate kids.”

That’s not like me.

And that’s how it usually starts.

So…I am doing it, keeping my shit together.

But I am living on borrowed time,knowing another cyclothymic shift is heading my way.

I am scared.

But right now…I am just drained.

So there…This post was my purging because all week I binged on stress and bullshit.

Time to do it all over again.

Yay.

The “KILL ME NOW!” day

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on August 23, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

Ever have a day that kicks your ass emotionally? Where the stressors just keep coming and you are grabbing at your hair and burying your face in your hands and wondering whose Cheerios you pissed in to deserve such a shitty day?

That was today.

It started out well.

Then it just went to a bucket of suck.

For the first time in two years, we came face to face with the sperm donor at a store. I feared that day, unsure of my reaction, whether I’d scream or cry or try to perform a lobotomy on him with a rusty spork.

Oddly, I felt nothing looking at him. I even said, “Say hi to your daddy, Spook.” She looked right at him and didn’t recognize him, and lest I be accused of trying to alienate her affections, I felt compelled to point him out. He mumbled hi to her and gazed at her with what I suspect might have been actual affection. Or is it wishful thinking on my part? He didn’t kneel down to engage with her, didn’t hug her, didn’t even smile. But he did look a little sad. Then again, he looks like he is dying or something, not healthy looking at all.

Then he asks, “Are we going to talk?” I said, “I’ve been waiting two years.” And he said he had too, and I pointed out he never gave me his phone number. Then he insisted he did. I quoted our last phone conversation in which he said he wouldn’t give me the number til after the court set up visitation. He said no, he gave me the number and I’m the one who should have called him to initiate discussions.

It became obvious in that sixty seconds that he has not changed an iota, he still can’t take any responsibility and is putting it all on me. I mean, that takes some balls. You walk out, you don’t contact me for a year, you don’t send your kid so much as a birthday card for two years…But I’m the one who’s supposed to contact him,  with a number he never gave me, and I’m the one responsible for getting the divorce.  To my credit, I simply let it drop and walked away with my kid, determined not to be engaged into an ugly scene in front of her and all the people in the store.

I felt nothing. Then he spoke. Now all day I have been beating myself up, wondering if he did give me his number and i was in some sort of mental fugue. I know better, but he seemed so certain he gave me the number and I am so certain he did not. There was never any way to win or even compromise with him, and that’s not changed.

Came home to five hours of bickering destructive brats from hell. I sent them home, they’d come back. I am getting where I cannot stand those two girls. And now I live in fear of their mother coming to kick my ass because I wouldn’t let her snowflakes set the house on fire and that’s mean.

I hate what my life has become, I miss being a loner, not having these kids in my home destroying my stuff.  I just want my fucking quiet little life back. But these kids just won’t fucking listen. I have even locked the door and ignored them…and they pounded and screamed for over a half hour.

Sad thing is, I sent them home at 7pm…and they came back at 8:30 pm, by which time spook had zonked out.

Now my head hurts, my back hurts, my brain hurts, and I am thoroughly demoralized, stressed, and depressed. That last one, though, is to be expected, coming off an anti depressant, duh.

Tomorrow I have to go get blood drawn for a lithium level. I loathe going to the hospital lab.

My nephew’s birthday party is tomorrow night and he doesn’t give a shit if we are there, but we’re going to have to put in an appearance to avoid a fucking family war. If we don’t show, my mom will go on a tirade. (She went off on her insurance guy the other day for canceling her policy and it was because she didn’t pay it!)

I realized today that the reason I am so comfortable with kids is they are not emotionally complex. They don’t have ulterior motives. They say what’s on their mind. They hate you one minute, the next they love you again. Kids are simple. They are pure.

Adults are such clusterfucks of emotional damage I can’t cope.  My failing, sure.

But I can’t find one single person in this town that I have much in common with. The local pastimes are getting wasted and smoking dope while being attached to an X Box or smart phone. Those things are not my things. Most of my things don’t require another person involved because I am such a loner. It would be nice to have someone to talk to, though, about this bipolar and anxiety crap. We have a mental health center and yet I can never meet anyone who will admit they go there because they have problems like mine. And if I did, no doubt they’d just want me to join in on pot and booze a palooza.

So I am by myself,basically friendless. I have acquaintances who possess all the emotional depth of a rain puddle. My one true friend is separated from me by an ocean.

And this just makes me feel like a bigger loser, but I don’t know if it’s because I really do want to have a friend or two, or if this is societal programming telling me I am defective because I won’t just assimilate and accept what I can get.

I am almost hoping my lithium level’s low so she will increase it. I am not numb enough. I also demand a pill to shut off the nagging little thoughts that stampede through my brain and won’t be deterred no matter what little therapy trick I use to shut them down.

Has anyone ever heard of Lyrical being used for anxiety? It hit me earlier when I saw a commercial. If it can quiet the impulses for fibromyalgia pain, then it would stand to reason maybe it could quiet an overactive central nervous system full of panic. But then again, my anxiety level is just so out of control these days, I am grasping at fucking straws. I’d go lick psychadelic toads if I thought it would help.

Now I am going to try to sleep. Funny how every night when I lay down for that purpose…my scumbag brain decides it’s optimal to kick in and keep me awake with swirling thoughts.

I want a new brain.

 

 

Ah, my old friend, Lithium side effects

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , on August 21, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

Been on Lamictal two years, never once had to take it with food. Back on Lithium 5 days and BOOM. Pukefest after taking my lamictal this morning. I did NOT miss this side effect. In fact, it was this side effect that made me go off lithium in the first place because generally, eating before pill times did the trick. But sometimes it didn’t and nausea and vomiting as a way of life seemed a high price to pay for mood stability. I thought taking the lithium at night, after supper and before bedtime, would take care of that aspect. I was wrong. Very very wrong.

Live and learn, I guess. (And for those who have taken Lithium and want to say it didn’t affect you that way- I know, everyone tolerates things differently, but this IS the way it affects me. In fact, this is probably the only real noticeable side effect for me.)

I’m gonna suck it up because the shrink’s idea of better alternatives are Abilify and Seroquel. I can’t say I am against cross labeling meds for different treatments. Lamictal is an anti seizure med, after all, and has worked great for mood stabilizing. But part of me wonders if the doctors are getting kickbacks from the makers of those anti psychotics when they use them to treat bipolar because man, every doctor wants to use them for bipolar now. They didn’t do shit for my bipolar. Come to think of it, they didn’t do shit for paranoia or anxiety, either, so what’s the fucking point?

I went to bed, with the help of trazadone, around 11 last night. Kept waking up. Had alarm set for 4 am. Got up at 4:30 because frankly, it’s been too hot to get anything done any other time. Plus there is the shrieking fighting kid circus every afternoon and evening which makes it difficult to do anything when they’re screeching “NIKI!” every 5 seconds.

Wanted to get a start on things. Got a desktop pc from the shop with corrupted LAN drivers I need to fix, had some research to do on some TVs, pack the munchkin’s backpack for her first day of pre-k, feed the cats, get a shower. Thus far I have done what I can, the computer is just gonna have to wait until I have time to get into depth with the issue. We removed 200 pieces of Malware from that thing. I’d like to beat the guy who owns it, because it is a fully decked Win 7 tower, card reader, boucoup USB ports, everything. NICE. I’d sell a kidney for one and he goes and gets it infected to the nth. (Your IQ must be THIS tall to own a computer, he wasn’t even running anti virus!)

Not even 6:30 am and I feel a sense of accomplishment. Also some anxiety, this is a big change and begins the years long battle of school and all it encompasses. Oddly, my big concern is how it affects my right to dress the way I want. (Yes, I am narcissistic that way but freedom of expression is my thing.) I mean, is my kid gonna get suspended because mommy wore a grim reaper shirt and it gave one of the snowflakes nightmares because they saw it for the 60 seconds it takes me to drop her off? And how will my style of dress impact her social standing? These are things that should not have any impact on me. Yet it does because I love my kid. Damn. I’m a mini van away from being a fucking soccer mom.

The mom who bought into the bedbug lie came to get her kids last night and I just told her flat out about my allergies and offered to get her a doctor’s note to disprove that little brat’s rumor mongering. That woman barely said two words to me. But then she didn’t speak to me at Spook’s birthday party either, I don’t know if that’s just her personality or if there is something about me that rubs her the wrong way. It would be reciprocal because she emanates about as much warm fuzziness as Charles Manson. I don’t like unapproachable people who can’t even be bothered to fake the social niceties thing. If a lazy disturbed psycho like me can fake it, then they can too.

People baffle me.

Hopefully pukeapalooza is done for the day. (Yes, I know, I have oodles of class in the way I express myself.)

Now…Yeah, now what? Oh, yes. Music and chain smoking til I wake the spawn, then fluffy omelet time. (I add water and man, they puff up like monster marshmallows.)

Once I drop her off it’s to the shop. After that, I have to go to Nancy’s to see what she has infected her computer with this time. Fuck you, Vista.

Then home to kids pouncing on us before I even park the car.

I can’t wait for winter. Cold, snow, getting dark early. The depression I can live with if it means a break from this summer anxiety. It’s been hell. I need my world to slow down a bit, become calm for awhile. It’s pretty sad when you’d rather deal with non functioning “kill me now” depression because the anxiety is just so bad.