Archive for January, 2014

Quiet Desperation

Posted in depression with tags on January 31, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

Another day without significant change in my mental status. I’ve been in a depressive fog for so long now, I’m actually getting scared. I’m going into week 3 of Viibryd and I know the stuff takes time but…I’m desperate. This depression is tainting every aspect of my existence, even the writing I so love. It has become pointless, dark, desolate, mimicking how I feel, thus it’s not fiction anymore. It’s not fun or fulfilling or interesting. It’s one more bucket of suck to make me feel even shittier.

I am told to “snap out of it.” Please, geniuses who spout this.DO FUCKING TELL. If snapping out were an option I sure as hell wouldn’t bother with all the side effect infested pills.

Something’s got to give, and for me, it’s usually the coming of spring. This has been the longest,coldest winter I remember, ever. It seems like it will never end and thus every day I am treading water because until this part of my disorder ends, nothing else can really be done. I’d settle if the med would just take the edge off, but so far, it’s not. Everything is black and pointless as ever and my feelings toward everything, including myself, are the same. I hate me. I hate everything.

The financial strain is hitting me hard for the first time since I don’t remember when. It’s not new and yet, I am coping with it like it is something different when it’s not. My mind is so altered, I barely recognize me anymore. Paranoid, anxiety ridden (when it’s so bad I take the fully prescribed dose rather than trying to tough it out…it says something.)

The last few days my kid keeps telling me she wants to go live with her dad. I mean, she’s 4 and she also wants me to buy her a tree chipper and let her sleep in a coffin but…It’s still devouring my soul, a soul that’s so sad to begin with it feels like a mortal blow. I’ve done all the work. He walked out and hasn’t sent so much as a birthday card in almost 3 years. But she wants him. Yeah, not motivating me to keep doing this. Being a mom and her needing me has been my biggest driving force. To have this shit driven into my head daily, when my head is so screwed up already…It would make me bawl except Lithium doesn’t allow me to cry.

And I know I am the adult, grow up, blah blah blah, but ya know what? I don’t care. It hurts. It fucking hurts. And I am well aware that I have years of hurt ahead of me ‘cos it’s what kids do and I did it to my parents and this is karma and.,..

It still just hurts. For once in my life, I did the right thing. I made a choice to have a kid and I have been with her, caring for her, every single day for 4 and a half years.

He walks out on and fails to support THREE kids, the courts never go after him, and of course, he gets to be the hero even with this kid.

I don’t think even Mother Theresa could delude herself into saying that’s not a thorn in the paw.

I keep telling myself it;s just my ego but it’s really not. NO ONE knows how hard it’s been for me since having her altered my brain chemistry to the point of turningĀ  “a little crazy” into “batshit crazy.” I tried to talk to my family about it but got the lecture about how I have to stop thinking about me and it’s about my kid…So what’s the fucking point. I reached out for support and help and that’s what I got. So I have done it alone for my kid…And wanting a little bit of acknowledgement isn’t a sin. Maybe it’s immature or demanding but it’;s not a sin. Parenting is tough enough. Doing it alone, with a mental illness wreaking havoc daily, is a fucking feat.

Rant done.

I had to work myself up into an anger cos the desire for tears was overwhelming. I can work with anger. It’s fuel for my soul. Being sad will only make me look like a welcome mat. Being pissed off will at least demonstrate I have some fight left in me.

My delusion, I guess.

I just want to feel happy, even if only for a couple of hours. This quiet desperation sucks.

Let it all burn

Posted in depression with tags , , on January 30, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

Sometimes…Well, way too often, actually, things just reach fever pitch of suckiness…And my warped little brain will pervert the beauty of the song “Hurricane” by 30 Seconds To Mars. Because it’s sung beautifully and yet in my mind, it’s just resigned anger and frustration waving the white flag.

“Crash, crash burn….let it all burn.”

That’s where I am. Nothing means anything and even if it did,my brain isn’t grasping it so what’s the point in going on? Let it all fucking burn. Hell, let me set it on fire. Oh, wait, it’s arson even if you burn your own shit. Life doesn’t let you have any fun stress relief. I think setting everything on fire and walking away would be cathartic.

Sadly, the one thing that needs to burn in order for anything to change…is me. Or at least my brain. It’s betraying me in a way that is unfathomable and I hate it. This goes so far beyond being down or stressed or sad. This is…mental consumption.

I am not coping well with life. Tiny things send me into a tailspin. I paste on the happy face and pray no one notices me ranting under my breath and swearing when deviations occur and my little brain can’t cope. I am hanging on for dear life and yet…

I.want.to.let.it.all.BURN. Guess the Papa Roach song “Burn” would certainly apply here. I sound like a pyro. If only I were. Life would be more fun.

First thing to go would be that piece of shit car R talked me into buying. I don’t care that it’s newer and sporty and shiny. I hate it. It’s not me. It runs like crap. I hate it. I would love to watch it burn.

Yeah, it’s been that kind of day. Started out bad, went wrong went more wrong, and I can’t escape my own mind so its just ass trashery.

I’m getting to the point where I am wondering if this isn’t more than one more winter depression. What if this is a delayed response to the donor walking out and it’;s taken 2 years for me to crumble under the strain?

Worse…Nothing’s been the same since I had my kid. What if the whole pregnancy experience altered my chemicals and I’m quasi psychotic now and that’s why nothing helps? Maybe I need an anti psychotic.

Grrrrr. I would love to write something happy, something hopeful, soimething good. Why can;t I just get well?

Let

it

all

burn.

Unwell

Posted in depression with tags , on January 29, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

It’s been another day of mental illness suckage. You can’t explain it, but you know when you’re just…unwell.

I have been anxious, panicky, down, forcing myself to function and resenting every instant of it. Putting on the functional face when truthfully, I just wanna curl up in a fetalized ball.

I hate it. I don’t know how to fix it. Between coming off Cymbalta and Lamictal, it’s not far out that I am in bad shape here. (Oh, yeah, I took myself off Lamictal, cos frankly that’;s 3 fewer pills to choke down every day and I think the Lithium is fine as a mood stabilizer.) So perhaps I brought some of it on me. 13 pills a day was too much, though. Nine is still too many but one step at a time.

I got hit with an astronomically high power bill which I am sweating. Meanwhile I’m still sitting here freezing my ass off and wondering where all the money we need is gonna come from.

There just doesn’t seem to be any light at the end of the tunnel. Bills are always there, so that’s not gonna change. This mental space I am in, this lack of stability and the bad mental space…that could change and it would make so much difference.

Looks like it’s just gonna be one of those days to be written off because nothing is taking me out of that mental space. Fighting it and failing is making it worse.

Brain reboot via sleep.

Too bad I’m gonna wake up and still be running on Windows ME.

Desperately seeking a point to it all

Posted in depression with tags , on January 28, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

Uneventful day if you discount the cold, the sinus pain, and the fact that withdrawal has every tiny thing PISSING ME OFF LIKE NAILS ON A CHALKBOARD.

 

I just couldn’t motivate today. My kid asked me to bake cupcakes so I did that much. And realized for the millionth time how much I despise cooking/baking/all things related. It’s just not me. It’s so anticlimactic. And leaves a mess to clean up.Plus food makes me fat. So…

like everything else in this debacle called life…WHAT’S THE POINT????

I keep hearing “You’ve given up on life, you’re too lazy to live.”

Idiocy. I am being honest when I say…I don’t see any point. I have no zest for life left because my brain can’t see a point to any of it. It’s not even that my life is the bad thing. I look at other people and I don’t even want to live their life regardless of how much money or fun or whatever they might have going on.

What.Is.The.Point.

And anyone who thinks I’m not sick of feeling this way is a moron. I’m so sick of feeling this way I’m lobbying in favor of the death penalty for myself. I apparently killed the joy of life so sentence me and be done already.

Dramatic much? I know.

Depression is a drama queen, though. It’s also depressing.

And I am done for the day trying to figure out what the point is.

Antidepressant withdrawal SUCKS

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , on January 27, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

Bumpy few days. I actually CRIED the other day. Like six or so tears, nothing major. But the ability to squeeze out tears at all on Lithium is a feat in itself. I was in this bizarre whiny weak bitch mental space and having all these physical symptoms and feeling like I am Satan…

And it hit me..Ha, I’m coming off Cymbalta cold turkey. Insanity explained. I have come off Xanax cold without so much trouble. And the educated oh so brilliant doctor saying, nooo, you won’t have any withdrawal symptoms. BRAIN ZAP BRAIN ZAP BRAIN ZAP MOOD SWING CRASH CRY SCREAM FURY SAD ZAP ZAP ZAP.

To make it even better, I have a vicious sinus infection so my head feels like a lead filled balloon draining 6000 gallons of icky ooziness. I am sneezing, coughing, and dating a box of Kleenex while gasping for air.

They’ve cancelled school again tomorrow due to temperatures even an ice cube would shiver from. So I can’t even get a two hour respite so nurse my withdrawal and drainage in peace.

I have got to stop peeing in people’s Cheerios. It’s the only explanation for all this misery to rain down on me all at once. Or it’s just proving my point that life is shit and bad stuff happens and it’s not all sunshine and rainbows no matter what the optimism mongers say.

Zap.Zap.Zap, says the brain.

No withdrawal my ass.

Tainted

Posted in depression with tags , , on January 24, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

Another day in the mental gutter. BFD.

I was hit with an epiphany tonight. Becca and I watch American Horror Story together every week and normally we’re both all about the show…But I watched it and…Got nothing out of it. It just annoyed me. I said as much and she said it was great. Which made me realize…

Depression taints everything, including the things we normally love. It literally sucks any joy out and replaces it with…nothingness. That is depressing.

It encompasses so much in my life right now. I don;t even like myself. I feel it’s all pointless, including me. That’s depression. Logically, I know this. Yet it doesn’t feel like something the meds will help and it will pass. It has just been this way for so many months now that I’m convinced this is who just my latest metamorphasis. A joyless miserable automaton who thinks everything is futile.

I dont want to feel this way, I fight it so damned hard, and it doens’t change a thing. Demoralizing. And the notion that it’s likely not me, it’s the depression tainting everything, that should be comforting, Because it leaves room for hope.

Hope is wearing a toe tag right now.

On the plus side, after six hours of trying to work up the nerve, I opened my mail box for the first time in six days. Fortunately it was junk mail. But that simple act brought on a vicious panic attack. I don;t know why getting the mail freaks me out. It started back in 2002 and it’s just never really gotten better. I might be able to get to the bottom of the things that are actually problems if I didn;t keep getting stuck with therapists who want to focus on what society thinks the problem is. I like being alone, I’m not broken that way, don;t try to fix me. I fear my mailbox to a psychotic degree, let’;s figure that one out.

Therapy is pointless. Least with the local therapists anyway. People who think wearing all black and listening to heavy metal are symptoms of a personality disorder need to die screaming.

I am a ray of fucking sunshine.

Makes me think of that Grumpy Cat where Death threatens to his eat his happiness…and the cats tells him he will starve. THAT is funny.

Pointless but funny.

God the depression has even tainted Grumpy Cat, thats just cruel and unusual.

Tainted. That’s me.

BFD

Posted in depression with tags , on January 23, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

Today is my 41rst birthday. BFD.

Big Fucking Deal.

My kid is fussy sick and spewing on me. Pardon me if my enthusiasm is contained.

I have a cold and I can;t get warm to save my life. I mean, psychotic shivering, it’;s not my norm and it’;s actually disturbing me. Because when I am cold, I shut down and the idea of the next 4 to 6 weeks underr a blanket shivering is as depressing as everything else.

I just…had a bad mental health day. I know, societal brainwashing dictates that once your reproductive organs have produced a spawn, you cease to exist as an individual and your only concern and purpose is to be The Parent. That;’s a crock of shit. Today was evidence. I love my kid madly, I do. But I’m still the same person I was before my uterus served its function and all those feelings bubbled up and over today. I mean, how is being puked on on your birthday not a little irritating? Not her fault, but also not mine. Plus I am in Cymbalta withdrawal (hello brain zaps) so I am on edge and emotional…. Usually I can be The Parent without a whole lot of self absorbed me-me-me-ism. Today was not that day. Today I just felt wmpy and weak and picked on and utterly devoid of any will to keep doing this life bit.

Never mind I got calls from all parental factions, my sister brought me cupcakes, Becca sang to me…No, when your brain chemicals are firing wonkily, not even good things are good. It’s all ass trash.

I’m 41 now.

Big fucking deal.

It’s been a miserable day and I have tried to get over myself but I think it’s just gonna require a brain reboot of sleep. Maybe things will feel differently tomorrow. When I’m not all tearful and feeling irrationally persecuted. Of course, with anti depressant withdrawal, this might be my norm for several weeks.

I’m trying to put a positive spin on that but it ain’t happening. It just sucks.

Maybe that means I have a bad attitude.

Big

fucking

deal.