Archive for September, 2013

Mental Hell(th)

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , on September 25, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

I’m still alive.

Last week was beyond horrific from a mental standpoint. My mind was so messed up I basically shut down. Aside from child and pet car, I didn’t engage at all. I was angry, flying off the handle, teary, depressed, all of it simultaneous.

Then I saw the shrink. We’re trying Lexapro now. She thinks I have a strong disposition for bipolar 2 because of the manic episodes set off by anti depressants.

Which is awesome because my new counselor, who is all of 27 and soo full of experience, has decided my diagnosis is leaning toward borderline personality disorder.

Something I had asked the former counselor about numerous times and she said she absolutely did not believe I was because most of my symptoms were standard issue bipolar and those that aren’t are part of the rapid cycling/cyclothymia.

It’s like this girl barely out of school is trying to invent the wheel.

Proof she didn’t read my file is she asked me why I think people don’t like me. Had she read it, she would have seen how I was ostracized and bullied every day for 7 years so I have been programmed to believe it.

No, it’s just some delusion I cooked up because suddenly after 20 years and ten therapists and shrinks, THIS genius has it all solved.

I keep telling myself to calm down, keep an open mind, stop acting like borderline with the overreaction to something I simply disagree with.

Thing is, after doing some research EVERY EMOTION WE HAVE AS HUMANS IS A DISORDER BECAUSE TO NOT BE A DISORDER YOU HAVE TO FEEL NOTHING STRONGLY.

I am pissed off, and I don’t think it is without justification. This counselor has seen me 3 times, and two of those were an intake and assessment. She has spent zero time talking to me in depth. But she’s got the label ready to stick in my permanent record.

That’s hubris, to me. Arrogance.

And ya know, if everything that’s wrong with me is my personality, how the hell am I ever gonna work on it when she only sees you for fifty minutes every two to three weeks?

I am thinking about dropping out of therapy. It’s pointless. It’s actually confusing me more, because every time I think I have a diagnosis to work from, some genius comes along and plants seeds that it could be this, or that, or…You get the idea. I am frustrated.

And disgusted to put all these meds into my body, allow my identity to be scrutinized and picked apart by strangers…AND NONE OF THEM CAN AGREE BECAUSE NONE OF THEM HAVE A CLUE.

Not even gonna try regulating indignation. Would invalidate being indignant, ffs. But wait, being angry about something that makes me angry is probably a whole new personality disorder.

AND HOW WAS YOUR WEEK? šŸ™‚

Cracking up

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , on September 12, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

It may be just me but some days I wake up not in a mood, but with an attitude. Today was one of those days. Ya know, doing what you have to do for your peripherals, kids, pets, house, et al…But pretty much ignoring your own needs outside having a pee, fetching a drink, and smoking a cigarette.Ā  I knew I had to leave by 8:10 am…7:55 am comes and I am still sitting at my desk listening to Wednesday 13, no pants on, no hurry to go dig some out of the cleanĀ  but not folded laundry…Just this “fuck it, give me points for being awake” attitude.

And I was out the door on time, with pants. Some days it feels good to not be under self induced pressure “Better do this, I gotta do this NOW, omihgod the world will crumble if I don’t have my socks and shoes on by 8 am…” I wouldn’t mind waking with that attitudeĀ  every day.Ā  But the tides turn too swiftly for there to ever be any constant in my world.

I fetched my kid from school and took her to mom’s so I could serve my time here at the shop. And Mom told me Rick (friend of the family) got his kids taken out of his home last night by the cops because one of the kids’ friends (an 8 year old) claimed he was raping the girls. No investigation, no proof, never mind his girlfriend’s constant presence because she doesn’t work and he is technically NEVER alone with the kids…AnĀ  8 year old said the right words to the right people and now three girls have been yanked from the one parent who has actually been there for them since their worthless mother abandoned them years ago.

This started a panic attack that is still running an hour later, not to mention setting off my anger issues and out of control paranoia.

Everyone says stupid shit like, “Oh, they don’t take kids away for no reason, he must have done something.”

Bulllshit. I was present back when R’s ex wife had his kids taken from him based on lies, he was guilty til proven innocent. (And I know they were lies because I was present for all the stuff she claimed happened, none of which actually happened.) This shit scares the shit out of me because I have witnessed that the system does not fucking work.

Losing my kid would be the one thing I could not survive.

So knowing this shit has happened, finding out it is still happening, and knowing the venomous little brats my daughter has befriended could say anything they want about me if I displease them by not letting them set my house on fire or whatever…

The panic is crippling.

And it’s been all damned week. Nothing has significantly changed in my stress level or situation except for all this flux with my meds. The doctor told me going off Cymbalta would give me sleep problems. She never mentioned that the panic disorder would somehow metastasize. And it has become like a cancer, devouring me this week on a daily basis, causing me to hyperventilate, to sweat, to tremble, to feel dizzy to the point of passing out. I am accustomed to the low level frequent panic attacks, those are just my life. But I have had at least six major panic episodes this week, which is more than I’d had in a six month period.

Panic, paranoia, brain zaps, side effects, and a cloud of terror of losing my kid hanging over my head…is making me feel like I am cracking up.

I keep telling myself it’s the meds in flux, hang in there, et al.

I think 80% is the med situation.

But I think a central issue is that I live in terror of some circumstance taking my kid away from me. It’s not enough to be a good parent when anyone at any time can make some crazy statement and the wheels of the system start turning. Now that she is in school and has friends, I have basically opened myself up to walking target status, waiting for someone to take a shot by taking issue with some aspect of my parenting. And as a mentally ill mom who also has some serious personality quirks…

It feels like the start of open season.

And I want desperately for it to be some facet of the mental disability, corrupt sensory input or something making me feel paranoia and terror.

But I keep thinking of what mom said, about how those three girls were doing their homework and the cops knocked on the door and removed them screaming and crying from their home….

My terror is not a mental illness, it is very very real.

And I am very very scared.

Because it is not about whether you’ve actually done anything to harm your child. It’s about who claims you have. Mentally ill or not, I think the prospect of “guilty until proven innocent” is scary as fuck.

Bipolarcoaster

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on September 12, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

Yesterday I felt pretty well mentally. Avoided the shop, hung out at home, stayed cool…Then my kid’s friends came over and it all went to hell in a handbasket because she turns into Damien around those two girls.

Today…I was just flustered from the get go. (What kind of mom forgets to brush her kid;s hair and sends her to school with rats?) I needed to make a phone call and had such a violent panic attack doing it (I;d put it off for two weeks just to avoid this panic) that my extremeties were vibrating with the tremors. My head got so dizzy I had to sit down. My heart beat so hard I thought it was bruising my chest cavity. Yes, I survived and yes I was relieved once I had done it but…

I will take a gaping wound over that level of panic attack any day.

My mood seemed to run the gamut over the course of the day. I am having some wicked side effects from the Lithium. My scalp feels like it is crawling with bugs and from the research I have done, that’s a lesser occurring Lithium side effect. Which means if I mention it to my shrink she will dismiss it as impossible. Apparently, they are only legit side effects if 99%Ā  of people have them. Never mind us oddballs who react differently.

The nausea, even though I have been eating in small increments to stave off the weight gain from increased appetite, is a bitch. I feel like I am going to throw up eighty percent of the time.

It’s been in the 90’s here all week. Lithium tends to make on feel dehydrated no matter how much liquid you drink and for whatever reason, it makes the nausea worse for me.

My head’s been aching.

R called and he wants my presence tomorrow, blah blah blah. He kind of made my mood crash. I will be there, of course, as I still owe him for fixing the car exhaust, but I do not look forward to it. There are some people who simply have such an oppressive or stressful impact on me that avoiding them is the only healthy thing to do. Him and those satan kids would be prime examples.

Now…it’s 11 opm and I think I have had all I can handle for one day. But first I need to hand feed my kittens. The mother has rejected them, refuses to care for them, and I can’t watch them die. So the woman who can barely remember to brush her own teeth is hand feeding three week old kittens in a desperate effort to keep them alive.

It;s shit like that that confuses me. How people can tell me I am cold and heartless and a bitch and only care about myself…

But I am handfeeding two kittens whose own mother rejected them…I can’t be too evil.

Oh, ouch, brain zap. They are gone for the most part. The short ones, anyway. No I get the longer brain zaps.

Hopefully this is the end of the Cymbalta bullshit. Calling it withdrawal is such a misnomer. I don’t want another dose, ever again. Whatever these withdrawal affects are, it’s not some cracving that a quick hit would fix.

I can’t think straight. Bedtime.

Getting off the bipolarcoaster for today.

Deviation is beyond evil

Posted in panic disorder with tags , , on September 9, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

I suppose it will seem asinine.

But to someone with my issues, it is a huge deal and it has me in a “deer in the headlights” state.

When I went to pick up my kid from school, the teacher actually refused to let her come to me like she has every other pick up for two weeks…The teacher walked her right over to me. Babbling about the color of the day for tomorrow.

At the time I thought it odd but just wanted out of all the traffic confusion and people chaos.

Now, as time has passed, scumbag brain has sent a multitude of panic attacks my way. WHAT DOES IT MEAN THAT SHE DEVIATED? hAS MY KId told some lie ab out how mean I am because I won’t let her juggle chainsaws?

What does it mean?

I am scared of my own kid because she lies.

Scared of the system because I have seen it not work as far as parents are concerned.

And I am scared of any deviation because the norm is boring but at least it doesn’t dropkick me into panic zone.

I’d rather have a gaping wound thanĀ  panic attacks. They can give you pain killers. There is nothing for the panic and all that comes with it.

Maybe it makes me a bad mom.

Scared.

Stupid.

FUCK.

Altered

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on September 9, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

It occurred to me today that people judge me,as is social custom, on first impressions. Which would explain why some people think I am a riot, some think I am a downer, and others think I am just a crazy bitch.

I am always in an altered state.

One would think the meds would fix this. They do not. If anything, the meds contribute to the cycles since some can spark mania or cause depression or cause withdrawal symptoms.

I don’t think anyone’s ever had the opportunity to judge me for who I actually am outside this fucking disorder. Furthermore, I don’t even think I know I am totally. It’s a constant state of flux and it is hellish.

Neighbor girls were here. I thought I’d clean the slate, could be me, yada yada. Nope. They pulled the exact same crap they always have. I never make an indent, they are brick walls of banes of my existence. The other kids…No problems, no bickering, no disobeying, no demands for food and drink. These two..never…fucking…stop. I sent them home at 5. Two hours is about my max on those two. And even that is pushing it because adults who put me under that much stress are automatically put on ignore. My kid has no clue how much I love her and want to do good for her.

And I am trying.

I just don’t think I am doing too well. I am actually scared that the illustrious “they” my paranoid little mind has concocted are going to decide I am cracking my lids and her father is going to swoop in and totally take her away while screwing me over. (In a way, I wish he cared that much, at least for her sake, though in my current state, he and his fragile psyche are gonna want to stay away,cos if I hurt his feelings when we were together, I would shred him now.)

Not…managing…easily.

And the depression, OMFG I cannot believe how quick it returned once the Cymbalta made its exit. I spent the entire summer manic, doing things that aren’t really me, and now I have to clean up the mess. Like letting those kids walk all over me. Like letting my babysitter mom turn my kid into a defiant junk food eating monster. I just sat back and let it all happen, against the fiber of my very being, and I felt nothing. I was manic. Nothing bad could really get in or if it did, it wasn’t making a dent.

DAMN IT.

It…gets…so…old having to own behavior that you committed in an altered state. People get “consideration” for drugged or drunken states when crimes are committed…But you get zero social consideration for being under the influence of mental illness or it’s so called treatments. And it’s not a desire for self absolution, I own what I do. It just gets old when you have to apologize time and again to the same people for being manic or depressed or whatever.

ESPECIALLY when these same people can be the biggest most hurtful assholes on the planet and they expect you to take a “They are who they are” attitude. Yet they can’t accept you have an illness.

SICK OF OVERGROWN KIDS WHO DON’T PLAY FAIR ON THE PLAYGROUND.

Cripes. R just called. Of course it wasn’t about how am I or my kid. No, it’s about his precious fucking shop. Can’t make it one weekend without disturbing me about that place. He wants to live and breathe it, fine. But I don’t. And I don’t think he’s fair about it or nice. He even swore at me because I haven’t figured out a LAN problem on this desktop someone brought in. “You’ve had it a month, can’t you get your friend to help you?” My techie friend won’t return my emails and I have TRIED but damn it, I am running into a brick wall. Sometimes they just have to be reformatted, especially after 300 plus viruses and malware have corrupted everything. Why he is so against a reformat it beyond me, there’s nothing on the hard drive other than program files and the owner has the disc. I think he’s being a dick about it. The guy could have had the computer back and running weeks ago were it not for R’s insistence to avoid a reformat. I think in light of the infections this thing had, a reformat would be the best option. Oh right, I am not there to think, just do as I am told while having a sunny disposition and no problems of my own to deal with.

****See bold print statement about people who don’t play fair on the playground.

The depression is making me hate every waking moment.

He is making me dread every single day, every fucking ring of the phone.

I really hope things change once withdrawal is done. The brain zaps are less and less so it has to be exiting.

That just leaves me with the problem of what to do about the depression, if I don’t head it off, it will kick my ass. And apparently, the dual mood stabilizer isn’t doing it this time. (No, why should anything ever work for more than a fucking month before quitting on me?)

I am so scared. I am so depressed.

And I am so alone.

My kingdom for ONE person in my life to give a damn and show an ounce of com passion.

Most people want to win the lottery or have a fancy car.

I just want a shoulder to cry on.

Until I just want an ear to listen to me vent.

Yeah, no wonder no one wants to be my friend.

Always altered. Epitome of unstable.

And no one fucking asked me if this is the life I wanted, this is what I got handed.

But yeah, R, you keep making all your criticisms about how I am not upbeat and I am too negative. Keep judging me, you drunken denial laden idiot. I have judgments of my own. And not many filters right now.

Damn it.

Thinking about him and that shop is giving me stomach aches. And i have tried to tell him and he doesn’t care.

I need to get a job doing some sort of fetish porn. Unfortunately, I have ugly hands, ugly feet, and won’t put on stilettos and crush a puppy. No matter what mind frame I am in.

Okay, so there’s a part of me that never changes no matter the mood. I do love my animals.

Fuck. Just fuck. I am so confused.

Melon baller

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , on September 8, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

Has your brain ever been so fucked up and caused you to behave so stupidly that you want to scoop it out of your skull with a melon baller?

No? Just me? Whatever.

I HATE MY STUPID BRAIN.

I reached a pinnacle of stress today and actually yelled at those horrid neighbor girls, “Can;t you let us get through the fucking door?”

Not my finest hour, but they didn’t even wait til I got groceries carried in. This after they’d already been here for two hours and I told them not to come back. And my kid threw a screaming mimi at the store, rolling on the floor, screaming, and when I knelt to help pick her up, she screamed, “No, don’t smack me!”

Because that’s totally my fucking style and explains why I have such a perfectly behaved child…Oh, wait, she’s the spawn of satan and my friends want to give her a well deserved spanking because I am so inept as a mother.

MELTDOWN MELTDOWN MELTDOWN.

To my credit, in the store, I picked her up, held her against me, and talked calmly, soothingly, and logically. She still said, “You’re mean, Mommy, I don’t like you!” And this was all because I told her she couldn’t have a toy.

Mostly the other shoppers were amused because they heard me volunteering myself for worst mom award for not buying her a toy, the worst parental sin ever. (Is it wrong to troll your kid? Probably, but my parents trolled me.)

The horrid girls left and never did come back, so God knows what story they told their parents. Oddly, as long as they stay away, I don’t care. But the way things go in this trailer park, I refuse to give them anything but water to drink, and I am totally making them go thirsty and dehydrate.

I want my kid to have friends, and those three kids two trailers down are awesomely behaved kids…But the last two, and these two girls, are just atrocious. They make my life hell. (Yes, what kind of 40 year old woman lets two brats terrorize her?) These girls are in fact making me miss Damiana and her brother. I tell them I can’t afford to give them snacks. They keep asking, demanding, placing orders for exactly what they want, ffs. I have taken to ignoring them. They are told to go away, they keep coming back. They are told to pick up any messes they make, they never do.

As far as I am concerned, expecting them to obey these edicts is no different than telling a smoker you don’t allow smoking in your home and they need to go outside

But these manipulative little satan spawns make me feel like I am so evil, so selfish, so mean, and so unfair…

Mostly, I know my brain is misfiring due to the Cymbalta leaving my system. The brain zaps are fading. Now I am all angry-yell-y or teary weary. It changes every five minutes.

As does my anxiety level and ability to manage it.

I am not in a good place.

Every time I think I might be getting to a good place, scumbag brain pulls some other crafty trick.

I’m not in favor of blaming bad behavior on mental issues, but in this case, I think it’s accurate. Otherwise, this would be my norm, constantly flying off the handle, bursting into tears, hiding in my room with a panic attack.

This is not me.

Now I am living in fear of what the satan girls might have told their parents and their mother is definitely one of those in your face ass kicking women who likes to fight over nothing. She is also friends with the one neighbor lady who doesn’t like me because I used sarcasm against her lying little snowflake. Birds of a feather and all…

Having all this feeding the anxiety is not healthy. Our lives were much simpler and less dramatic before we started mingling with these so called neighbors. I don’t want to be anti social or wimpy, but I do have limitations and they have been worn down to nothing this summer. This has been the longest suckiest summer i Ncan ever remember, from a mental/stress standpoint. And it’s these kidsl. I have ONE kid. I should not have 6 of them every single night.

And I am sick of being told “don’t let them do it” followed by “you can’t pick your kid’s friends, you’re not being fair to her.”

Yeah, line up if you like kids treating you like crap and as a servant in your own home…Didn’t fuckin’ think so.

I can’t be unfair to my kid or those kids. I can’t let them get away with it. They are beyond reason. Maybe it’s my fault for not establishing alpha status like a dog. I just know they only way to deal with them is to not deal with them. I keep waiting to see if this withdrawal winds down if all these crazy feelings will…

I just know I am tired, I am depressed, and I am getting my ass kicked by a couple of badly behaved girls under the age of 8. Which, ya know, is stupid, because if you ask ANY of my exes, they will tell you I am one scary bitch.

So where did I go?

Stupid meds. Stupid brain.

Hand me the melon baller.

Too much

Posted in biolar disorder on September 5, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

I tried sooo hard today to keep a positive attitude and roll with the punches. For awhile it worked. But between going to the shop and coming home to all those kids (who were NOT amused when I locked the door so they couldn’t run in and out and help themselves to our stuff) and then R wanted me to order a part NOW amidst all the kid pandemonium and computer issues….

It was too much.

I can handle a bit.

I can’t process too much. Call me weak.

Now it’s 9 pm and there’s a ton of stuff I want to do, stuff I need to do…But my skin feels like it is crawling off my bones and I am itchy from allergies and I can’t even remember anything good that happened today because the overwhelmed factor has drowned it all out, as it always does.

 

Bedtime.

So I can mentally flog myself for being so weak as to crawl into bed because my fragile psyche can’t handle life’s normal pace.

I try to remind myself I have a middle illness.

Being surrounded by a bunch of “suck it up” types nullifies any explanation (excuse, to them) short of dismemberment.

I just want one week away from the shop, away from all those brats that aren’t mine…About as likely as snowflakes falling in hell, but a ghoul can dream.