Archive for November, 2013

Social Distortion

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

Thanskgiving was bearable, barely. It’s just always been awkward for me, surrounded by people I am supposed to relate to simply because we’re related. It doesn’t work that way. I’m the oddball of the family, and expecting them to get me is just ridiculous. But no fights broke out, that was good. I just felt like my skin was crawling off my bones. Couldn’t wait to get out. I did however amuse myself by telling my lesbian-phobic mom something. She commented that maybe one day I would find a good dad for my kid…And I said “Or she could get have two mommies, the men aren’t impressing me anymore.”

The look on her face was sooooo worth it. I’m a troll that way. Besides. My mind has become so open I’d hook up with a Monster High doll if it made me happy.(Goth chicks are kind of hot.)

Woke to a text this morning. R informing me a customer needed my assistance. I texted back reminding him that he fired me. And he said “I’m trying to help you, moron.” Which would offend most and yet it made me smile. I get honesty and I can be a moron. In all fairness though, I set the wifi network up for the customer so it made sense he would request me.

I went. I couldn’t figure it out. I freaked out. Finally got it. Left feeling pretty damn good, got the things we needed, came home.

Another text from R. I didnt hear it cos it was on vibrate so he called. The customer I helped this morning referred his brother to me with help with his computer, so we have an appointment Tuesday.

The first time I did ok. That second one, just calling to talk to a person I didnt know…That took a Xanax to work up the nerve and force down the panic attack to make the call. I don’t think anyone has a clue what it’s like to have anxiety so bad you’re paralyzed making a simple phone call. It sounds asinine, and I would probably think that, if I hadn’t spent the last 30 of my 40 years living it. It’s vicious.

I got my meds filled. I am on a Cymbalta manic high from hell right now. It’s beautiful. It’s disconcerting. It beats the fuck out of being an irritable depressed lump. My kid has had company today and I have actually been playing with them and not flying off the handle. One week back on the stuff and it’s already made a difference. Again not something anyone can understand unless they’ve been there.

And that is where the social distortion enters. I know the party line is, “Well, no one can stand you, you can’t maintain a relationship, and the common factor is you.” I don’t dispute there is much wrong with me and I can be my own worst enemy at times. But at the same time, so much of my life is spent in flux due to the ever shifting bipolar and the panic and whether the meds are working…I never know who I will be when I wake up, and people expect me to be solid and stable. No wonder it all goes to shit.I can’t manage the impossible and being expected to is ridiculous when they’ve all been warned that this is what I have to contend with. They view it as some fatal character flaw. and with that mentality, they’re the ones dooming me. Refusing to face that this is a legitimate disorder is the crippling factor and it’s done to me.

Not that I am playing victim. I am a roller coaster ride from hell. I self isolate to protect people from it, too. But no one protects me from it. No one can. How can you ever adapt to society if society won’t accommodate you? It’s a losing battle.

And I fear my mental issues are getting worse. I chastised my kid yesterday for losing the different coat someone had given her…And later realized…They hadn’t actually given her the coat yet, they’d mentioned it in  a phone call. And I got it all confused. SCARY.

This morning I did something…And had no recollection of having done it a minute later.

Strange days. I’m a little scared. But who do I have to turn to aside from Bex and this blog?

Frankly there’s nothing that can be done. Take the meds and try to survive and hope it gets better. That’s my only course of action. I’m too functional to warrant a hospital stay. Apparently too dysfunctional to even maintain a friendship or unpaid internship.

Even in my insanity I do not belong anywhere.

I’d boohoo about it but instead, I think I will just listen to some really obnoxious music. That always cheers me up. And I suppose I should eat.5 pizza flavored Pringles chips apparently not filling.

I am so sick of being told about how disappointing, difficult, and what a failure I am.

Just once I wish someone would say, “In spite of how messed up she is, she is still trying so hard…”

And monkeys might fly out of my butt.

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Ass Trash

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

I didn’t have another title in mind. Becca has been using this term ass trash for awhile now and well…It just describes life these days, so I’m gonna go with it.

So R FIRED me, as his friend. I thought I was kind of an employee who did things to earn things. Apparently it was just a friendship and my failure to answer the phone on a Sunday to tend to his needs was the sign that I am using him. I sent a text explaining that I was in a bad mental state coming off a med I ran out of so avoiding me was in his best interest…And he didn’t like the tone of that so he texted back that I need to stand on my own two feet for a change and he thought we were friends and he sees he was wrong.

All because I didn’t answer my phone on a damn Sunday. It was so bad, he called like five times. When I didn’t answer he called my dad’s house at 9 pm and got them all worried. Seriously, dude? I’m 41 and American. I am entitled to a bad mood and to not answer my damn phone when I think that mood might lead to trouble.

And it did. And I didn’t mean for it to,was just kinda giving the heads up, this is why I’m not answering my phone…But he doesnt accept I have a mental illness therefore trying to explain winter depression and its shut down and med withdrawal is pointless.

So we’re done.

And the thing is…I feel free.If my car breaks down I am totally screwed but I am breathing for the first time in months. I dont feel caught in a stranglehold. I’m not having bad dreams about busted electronics. I don’t dread ringing phones now. Because I am FREE.

I don;t like it came down to this. But being pissed off because I didnt want to answer my phone seems to reflect more on him than me. I mean, seriously, my own father doesnt get all bent and worried if I don’t answer my phone for a day. Ridiculous.

And I’d rather do without and fail on my own than be beholden to someone who’s keeping track of his good deeds done for me without thinking that I’ve earned the stuff he’s done for me.

Now the aftermath is my paranoia running rampant on how he’s likely maligning me to anyone who will listen. I don’t mind being called out for what I’m guilty of. Bitchy? Yep. Moody? Uh huh. Self absorbed?Sure. But  I thought I was earning every good deed he did for me, and it turns out,he was just being a nice guy therefore I used him and I owe him. He was carrying me so I have to stand on my own two feet now.

fuck you.

I dont think he;s said anything to my dad yet but I know how that will go. Dad sided with R 15 years ago when we broke up. I mean, R works and has money and he’s respectable and I’m just a lazy ungrateful brat who can’t get her shit together. (Not making that up, my dad has said that to me.) This is why I hate small towns where everyone knows everyone and everything. I don’t consider it anyone’s business but R loves the sound of his own voice and loves to play the victim so it’s gonna be lovely when it all comes down.

Now you may ask what the fuck that whiny diatribe has to do with mental illness.

Well, I had a bad day mentally on Sunday. Altered mind states make you behave in strange ways. Like not answering the phone.Like not opening the mail box. Like being too weirded out to go to the grocery store so you eat food you dont even like since it’s already there. Like not being able to force yourself into a shower.

This winter depression has taken hold like a pit bull and it won’t let go for shit.

And it doesn’;t help that I ran out of lamictal and can;t get more til Tuesday. The doctor just told me it;s not something you quit cold turkey cos it could cause seizures. Ha ha ha ha. And I’m bitching about being out of it?I got lucky apparently.

Tomorrow is turkey day. At my mom’s. With my dad, his gf, and their kid also attending. Plus about 15 people not even related to me that are part of my sister;s inner circle. I am going but I dont have a good feeling. I’ve been to enough of these family things to know they rarely go well. And with my current depressive moodiness..My dad starts in on me about the wrong thing, it could get ugly.

On the plus side, my anxiety has been lesser. Not by much but definitely lesser. I’m no longer certain people are out to get me. Thats an improvement.

(Pardon all the punctuation mistakes, this netbook keyboard is so small my fat fingers fuck it all up.)

I read another blog earlier…And this woman mentioned her bipolar daughter and how much trouble she is having..And the mom said she wanted to run far far away from her daughter’;s problems.

And it made me see things from the other side. I know its gotta suck for people who have to deal secondhand with mental disorders. I don’t have any wisdom except it’s not personal. Being bipolar has not enhanced my life in any way. I want to run away from it. I’ve tried countless times. It doesnt work though.

I talked to my mom on the phone tonight and she said, “I cured myself of depression.”

Yeah, my family’s about as comforting as the Marquis de Sade was kind.

As it stands, Becca is my only friend and support system that I am certain of Everyone else seems to come and go. When I’m manic, they think I am awesome. Then the mood swings and away they go. And I am not so insecure or desperate as to require such people in my life. You’;re real, you’re in for the whole deal, not just the happy parts.

And Bex has been there for over ten years. Maybe only by an internet tether but it means the world to me, and so does she. You find out who matters when the chips are down and everything turns to shit.

Or as Bex would say, when it all turns to ass trash. ❤

Divine Avoidance

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

I haven’t had the nerve to open my mailbox in four days. I don’t know why. I go into avoidance mode during the seasonal depression. Today I have been ignoring all calls and texts. Just people wanting something from me when I have nothing to give. My stomach has been upset for a week now because the stress of it all is taking a toll. I have NO ONE in my life who understands or even makes a half ass attempt to be supportive. That leaves me to bond with people on line and even that is stilted by my illness because I never want to talk. I have nothing good to say. I have nothing interesting to say. There’s just nothing good or interesting with me.

So the depression tells me. It seems reinforced by those around me who only want me to cheer up and do their bidding without regard to what I am going through.

My own father is the worst. He’s on me to get a job. Like if anyone would hire me I wouldn’t be on it like white on rice. Guess he wants me to get a gun and force a manager to hire me? What can I say? I’m unstable because I have an illness but NO ONE cares about your “excuses”. They simply don’t. There are no allowances made. No empathy. NO understanding. So while I am make an effort and am willing to work, no one will give me the chance and at this juncture in time…I dont disagree with them at all.

I never know who I am going to be when I wake up these days. Will I lay in bed shivering under the covers and nursing a nervous stomach that is agonizing? Will it be one of the days I spring up and actually want to get on with the day?Or will I be sad and weepy? Oh, the angry irritable days are good, too, when I am pissed off at all and have no idea why and no amount of subterfuge or fake smiles can mask it because it comes out anyway.

And the last week has been a lot of that. To be expected with a med change.

New shrink (I think I like her a lot) put me back on Cymbalta, said we have to find a balance between that and the mood stabilizers. She’s the first who’s had the intelligence to think that. She left everything else the same. I actually had panic attacks from hell going in (grabbing walls, the nurse seemed to think I was bonkers) but I came out of a shrink appt feeling good for once. And it wasnt just relief at being done.

But since the Cymbalta was reintroduced my lithium numb is gone and I am all over the place emotionally. I’m happy, I’m sad, I’m mad, I’m bored, I’m restless, I feel nauseous. There is no constant now and it is rattling me big time.

Part of why I haven’t answered the phone today even tho I know I will get my ass chewed for it. I feel very irate and hateful and angry and that’s never a good mind frame in which to deal with people. Now if I could explain this and be understood, I wouldn’t need to avoid. But the moment I try to explain and get the “suck it up” speech, it’s like primer and gunpowder. Not good. So I avoid.

Not healthy but I don’t know what else to do.

It makes me anxiety ridden no matter what  I do.

I just feel like a fish out of water and I am flopping about on land.

It’s like…I’m uncomfortable in my own skin right now. It’s too tight, it doesnt fit right, the texture is all wrong…It’s my skin but it feels alien…

And I don’t know if that is depression or the new med stirring the pot.

But in a sea of shit..a new doctor who actually listens seems something to be positive about.

Or so I tell myself. The mental illness doesn’t want me believing anything positive though.

Thank god I spent years perfecting the art of telling others to go fuck themselves.

Yeah. The depression needs to that.

 

Anything to feel something

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on November 18, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

Depression strips away everything. It sends you down the rabbit hole and blackness is your security blanket. You can’t find a point in life, or well, in anything, so you just want to be left to your darkness. Hope is a vague memory. If it ever existed to begin with because with depression and its cycles…You forget what life is without its crippling presence.

For a week…I fell down the rabbit hole, totally. My kid had lice so she was banned from school and nothing I did was treating it right cos ffs, I never had lice before, not a clue about the stuff. But without having to take her to school… The depression took over, kicked my ass. I went nowhere. I ignored my phone. Other than my kid and Becca, I had contact with no one.

I bathed, ate, slept, did mountains of laundry every day battling her critters…I took care of her basic needs…but I quit living.

And then someone showed up at my door to chastise me for not answering my phone and reaching out to my friends.

It helped pull me out of the rabbit hole a bit, but more because I felt pressured to please and perform them.

I am still depressed, hopeless, anxiety ridden, irritable.

So being pulled out of the rabbit hole (or guilted out) did not solve the problem. I have to question my doctor’s intelligence in letting me go into seasonal affect without an anti depressant. It has sucked more than words can say.

And the anxiety, usually quelled at this time of year, has been off the charts, complete with massive panic attacks and paranoia.

This week I get to meet a new doctor and what are the odds she is gonna be any more useful?

I also got “let go” from counseling because I missed three appointments. Well, when you don’t know what day of the bloody week it is, it is difficult to track these things. (And yes, the other day, I had NO clue it was Sunday, I thought it was Monday, my brain simply was not accepting facts.)

I am in a scary fucking place and I feel so fucking alone.

I keep thinking back…I used to have hope. After my kid was born, everything changed. The brain just never worked the same again.So depression with no hope…That’s a terrifying place to be. I WANT to be hopeful, to feel joy, to have a zest for life…

It just isnt there.

I find small things. New song, show, whatever. But there is nothing big, like the future being good or anything like that. No hope. I try to change my attitude.  Doesn’t help.

Nothing helps.

It’s depressing. HAHAHA. Depression is depressing. There’s an epiphany.

I always survive.

I just live in terror of reaching that one time when I don’t survive.

Everyone says mental illness is benign, it wont kill you.I think any disease that alters your perception of reality and drains you of joy and hope is terminal.

 

Depression Inside

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , , on November 6, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

Sitting here looking at the computer sticker that says “intel inside” and it’s like…ooh i am depression inside.

Depressed again today. But then, that is the nature of the disorder. I guess I naively hope each day it will be different or there will be some respite thanks to the bipolar…It’s not happening today.

My soul is blackened.

I am functioning but without much joy or will. It’s auto pilot at its finest. No hope is on the horizon. I feel inept, worthless, pointless.

I try so damned hard and it doesn’t matter.

The people around me are starting to take it personally. I mean never mind I spent a month not going to sleep before midnight. No, last night I just bottomed out and took a trazadone and zonked before 9pm…so someone calls both numbers and texts toward ten and I am accused of ignoring them when in fact i was asleep.

It’s like I can’t even fucking sleep on my own time. Which only adds to my feeling smothered, which brings on the panic.

At this point I am prepared to swallow pride and ego and admit..I am mentally ill and I am not doing so well.

But who do I have to listen? The counselor wanted me to call her for a reschedule so I did and left a message…she had the office call to schedule me a week away even though I stressed how not well i am…

I have no one.

And I hate all this drama, I just need to be left alone to let it run its course. If anyone would listen the biggest help I could get would be a break from my kid, I am exhausted. I need a night to wallow in my depression. Let me recharge. Oh and money donations would take care of a lot of problems.

But unless someone can make me not bipolar, then it is what it is. Every fucking fall and winter for 20 years. Why people aren’t smart enough to figure this out is beyond me.

I sound sad. I sound pathetic.

I am sad and pathetic. This too shall pass,

Or I will drink bleach.

Whatever.

Viva le apathy. If only the lithium could numb the panic and paranoia so well.

 

Down the rabbit hole

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , on November 5, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

I am a train wreck with a plane crash thrown in. Everything has gone to shit and I am down the rabbit hole so far I am on the cusp of not caring what happens to me. I have a defiant 4 year old who hits me and tells me she hates me and I guess I am just not mature enough to handle it. Everyone has advice but nothing works with this kid as far as me. She will not be disciplined in any fashion and I am…ready to give up.

I am off anti depressants and the depression is devouring me whole. But with the shrinks not wanting to give them for bipolar apparently depression is what I am stuck with. As they say the mood stabilizers have an anti depressant affect. Not working for me but it’s there so hey, all is well.

My panic at the moment is off the charts. My psychotic mind is running in all directions I’m going to jail, they’re gonna take my kid, everyone is out to get me, no one likes me, everyone thinks I am a waste of space.

The depression has put me in this paranoid irrational place and I have isolated myself to protect everyone from me because while I am sick and I need help.,.They dont want to talk about it, they just want me to cheer up.

If that worked, pharma companies would go under.

And I can’t even focus to write this because my kid does not stop yapping and absolutely will not permit me five minutes that don;t involve absolute focus on her, It is making me really develop an attitude of harshness, I can;t even do dishes and she has to be attached to my leg. She wasn’t that clingy at age 2.

Oh, god…

This is why I don’;t blog anymore, I can’t focus I cant think and frankly I have nothing to say anyone wants to read.

Mental illness may not kill you, but the way it drains the life out of you, death could well be an end result.

Fuck.