Archive for February, 2014

I hate the biplolar coaster!!!

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , on February 22, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

Today’s mood was off. Ass trash. Up, down, functional, lethargic. Irritating. And the anxiety drove me to the xanax bottle like a thirsty horse to a water trough.

There was NO reason. No trigger. No added stressors. NOTHING, for fuck’s sake. I had way worse days this week and was able to hang in there.

This happens. Little too often for my tastes. Part of the bipolar coaster ride. I normally love roller coaster rides. Not this. This one sucks.

This is affecting every aspect of my existence. I always thought I would be the fun mom. Turns out, I am inconsistent irritable paranoid mom who can barely remember to brush my teeth, let alone plan out fun activities to do with my kid. I am a crap mother. I blame the mental illness but I know all too well that society will chalk it up to my personality. Well, I might buy that if there were any consistency to it. It all changes on a dime day in day out.

Welcome to cyclothymic bipolar motherfuckers.

I just wanna go to sleep and reboot my brain. I can’t get out of this mental space no matter what I do. It’s sticking like flypaper. Which makes me feel worse because everyone says I should be able to snap out of it.

It’s a shame the lithium has stripped me off all emotion except anger. I can’t even cry but the anger hasnt been dulled a bit. I want apathy. If I feel too much too strongly and can’t regulate it and that’s all my fault…well show me the way to feel nothing. I’m fed up. I am tired.

I want off this Unamusement park ride.

Forced silent

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on February 20, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

I did not go anywhere, technically. One of my lovely neighbors decided to steal service from the cable company so they disconnected me and hooked themselves into mine. It took almost a week to get a cable person here to check it out. He filled me on how this is the sixth time these particular people have hacked in this way but they can never catch them to prosecute. They have threatened him with a gun when he has talked to them. Guess I got lucky cos when the net crashed two hours after they fixed it and I saw my neighbor out back there…I confronted him and was met with denials aplenty. Next thing I know, his anger issue wife who won’t let her kid play with mine for reasons unknown, pounds on the door and jumps me because she doesnt like the way I spoke to her husband. But alas all she was wielding was a half eaten chicken leg. So I was wrong to ask if he was the one tapping into my service..Hmm.

Let me see..”Hey, cut my service off and steal it on my dime, thanks so much for screwing me over,have a nice day!: Wtf, am I am Canadian? (Sorry if Zoe reads that, it’s an old joke.) I saw this same guy kick their dog in the ribs the other day with a steel toed boot and while I am not fans of pit bulls that growl at me and my kid, I abhor people who are mean to animals. These people have been turned in. Few months back, they were arrested and jailed on a drug raid. I tend to let people be but not that they are fucking with me..I’m taking it personally.

It is also sending me into panic mode. I have to live here. Hell, I have to take my kid to the bus stop twice a day with this guy and his wife glaring at me the whole time and that was before I confronted. Not exactly comfortable for someone with anxiety issues. Especially if they”d threaten the cable guy with a gun. How do these people not get put in prison? I could threaten someone with a damn keychain nail file and probably serve ten years.

I suppose the saving grace is, I think the Viibryd, and the warm up in weather is easing me back to my right mind. Not totally. My kid wanted me to talk to her little friend’s mom this morning and I just couldn’t do it, the paranoid bad voices were going at it. So I am better but I am still not well by a long shot. Maybe  I can cope better with this looming threat. I fear less for my personal safety with these people and more for them trashing my shit. They have like 5 kids and last summer we did battle with those kids stealing my kid’s stuff then arguing it was theirs even tho it has her initials on it. These are not people you reason with. They are neighbors from hell.

I don’t see this helping my paranoia at all. I’m sure my shrink will label it situational and no big deal. I know the last time I explained some of my issues that stem frm living in the trailer hood, she told me to move. Yeah cos if I had the means to move, you moron, I’d live in the fucking trailer hood. And I’ve been here 5 years and I have always been fine UNTIL some raging assholes come along and turn a bad neighborhood into a worse neighborhood. It’s the principle. I’ve been here longer, I’ll be damned if they run me off. Besides, living in cardboard boxes is illegal and that’s my only other option.

Blah.

I am pondering taking my kid to school just to avoid the bus stop bit. But I can’t afford to keep doing it and it’s like, suck it up. I just don’t want the bad element starting crap in front of the kids. They would,too, probably consider it some sort of educational outing in how to socialize. Or paranoid bad voices are just overreacting.

I never knew the simple act of getting my internet fixed would turn into such a drama. I hate drama. My nerves hate drama.

I can feel my mood slipping, my anxiety rising. Maybe being disconnected from everything wasn’t a bad thing. Boring but non fatal. Did cost me a shitload in cell time though.

Everything’s a double edged sword. Life is a catch 22.

People think I am joking or being lazy when I say how exhausted I am with life.

One day they might just find out how not joking or lazy I am.

Life’s kicking my ass.

Mercy

Posted in depression with tags , , on February 13, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

Ya know that game…Mercy, Uncle, whatever…You cry out when you’ve had enough and concede defeat.

Well..I am crying mercy.

It doesn’t matter whether it was a good day or not. Fact is, it was a day requiring multiple trips into the petri dish and dealing with people and crowds and…It took a lot out of me. The anxiety beforehand tapped me out as well. My mood has been so shifty. Up and down. Little sparks of life, then…CRASH. My brain is a traffic jam of thought. (And Xanax is supposed to slow the brain down yet mine is a fucking Tasmanian devil of thought even if I take the whole bottle.) I can’t focus. I’ve had three migraines today because the thoughts just swirl so fast, so furious. I’m tired even if I didn’t do anything strenuous and have no right to say it. I am saying it. I am tired.

Mercy.

The shrink wants me to stay on the Viibryd 40mg for six more weeks then she will see me again and go from there. Six weeks without an appointment is fine by me, the anxiety it induces sucks. But I also have to go get bloodwork for a Lithium level and…God, my kingdom for a brain that just does what it’s supposed to do. I am sick of doctors and pills and side effects. While the Lithium numb trumps the out of control bouts of crying and screaming…Gotta say, I’m getting REALLY fed up with the daily nausea. I eat with it, after it, and half the time, I still end up feeling like I am going to hurl up an internal organ. Toss in the groggy mind fog and neverending munchies…

I think I’d just as soon wish for this mental shit to go away as I would wish to win the lottery. Being able to think clearly, consistently, would be worth far more than money.

It occurred to me today that mental illness is a lot like Alzheimer’s. My grandma has the latter and when people visit, it’s always gauged by whether she is in her “:right” mind or not. If she is, she knows who we are and acts civilized. If not, she gets downright hostile and acts out or shuns because we’re strangers to her. Not her fault. It’s an illness.

So why can’t people realize mental illness is the same? It all hinges on being in your right mind and with me, cyclothymia means I am rarely in my right mind for very long. It’s constant cycles, constant changes, constant contradictions because at 9 am I may be manic and confident happy fun ball…Then  by 3 pm, I may be panicy terrified paranoia chick who glares daggers because I am feeling threatened and scared.

Altered mental status is the same whether mental illness or alzheimers, but I’m sure that statement will be met with opposition. I stand by it.

Mercy. As much as I’d love to stay up and read or write or play word games…My brain is screaming for a break and in the words of Celebrity Deathmatch’s Mills Lane….I’ll allow it.

Shaken and stirred

Posted in depression with tags , , , on February 12, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

Weird day. I had errands to run which put me into the anxiety stratosphere because two stops involved the bigger stores and I got woozy and dizzy and it was daunting. That it only seems to happen when I am out in the petri dish seems to say to me that the dish causes great anxiety. No amount of self pep talks is working. It’s become physical symptom inducing and my resentment for the status quo and it’s “deep breathing” and “suck it up” mentality is immense. I’m off my butt, dealing, out there trying to function and get shit done, but I’m not a moron and I can’t just pretend I don’t feel like I’m gonna faint cos the panic is so bad. Denial is not in my skillset.

Mood seemed okay–ish for most of the day, especially once I was out of the dish and back in safe space. It did, however, crash at one point with no trigger and a toe tag was required. It had died.

Got a surprise visitor that made me half manic with anxiety because as much as I like the woman, she is a housekeeping snob and I know my slob-chic style will likely have her in therapy and gossiping for weeks to come. Oh,well. Mrs. R (ha, so long since I mentioned that drama who remembers?) stopped to say she misses visiting with me and Spook and he apparently fed her some story and was all angry at me.  Because I didn’t answer my phone when he called. That’s all it was, and he tells her something else entirely. This is why I am a misanthrope. But she is very nice and he is…whatever. That’s twice now, Sunday, Kenny came to visit. R is the only one pissed off at me and holding grudges. Go figure.

Needless to say though a surprise visit, even if it were from the sweepstakes people with a check, sent me into this anxiety induced tailspin. I’m not mad, just disoriented. I haven’t liked surprised visits for over ten years since my brain got scrambled and every tiny thing became this huge stressor. Just need to regain equilibrium.

Thus far it is proving difficult. Tomorrow is my kid’s V’tine’s party for school so I had to fill out her little Valentine’s. I bought the cupcakes for the party so I have to drive her in the morning to drop those off. Then in the afternoon I see the shrink. I will have to leave my kid at my mom’s and hope my mom doesnt start in on me because I can’t well be mean to a woman who is waiting for her mri results to find out if she has an aneurysm…

Stress stress, everywhere. I am shaken and stirred. I keep telling myself to breathe. Not a big deal. I will cope. Blah blah blah. But I am once again having the weakness and dizziness that accompanies the anxiety when it overwhelms and logic is getting its ass kicked. My focus is all over the map. My stomach is knotted up.

Mrs. R pointed out, “Well, you handled it all so well for so long, what happened?”

That’s precisely the problem. I don’t juggle well. When given too much to juggle for too long…It wears me down. My meds fail…And no matter how hard I cling, it;s just down the drain. I never noticed it until a counselor pointed it out as a factor in why she felt it crucial that I go on disability. I can manage so much. But life doesn’t limit what it places on you and too much always sends me into a tailspin. Though a lot of people can’t manage as they had been when their meds quit working and alter their mind frame. Not exclusive to me.

Ok. Now is time to convince myself even though my spleen has ice crystals on it, I really must shower. Though I feel so tapped out all I want is warm blankets and sleep. I can juggle,sure.

But this is the price, being ground down to dust.

I despise juggling.

Yes,please

Posted in depression with tags , , on February 11, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

Ya know the story about the little engine: “I think I can, I think I can”…

That’s how I am feeling these days about my new antidepressant. I think it’s TRYING to work.

Yes,please. Please,please,please.

Mind you I’m not talking a miracle cure here. It’s more like on occasion I can feel the edges of the depression lifting and little snippets of myself emerging. The Real Me. It’s something. Better than I was getting from the other meds. For all I know it’s not even the med, maybe it’s just time passing as it gets nearer to the season change. But I am trying sooo very hard to think positive and have faith.

Which might be the biggest proof of all that the med is doing something. Positive thinking and faith aren’t generally in my repertoire.

Today was weird. Up and down. I’d feel the flickers on occasion and it’s like, yes please, I will take “not feeling like I wanna die for six hundred Alex.” But then it would just kinda filter out and I’d be right back down. I had to do some phone calls and that sent me into the level of panic that requires a xanax. I hate phones with all that I am, they may be useful but they have long been the bane of my existence, calling or being called.Phone just mean more panic. No, thank you.

But I made a new playlist of old happy ish 80’s tunes…And for me that’s like…something different is happening. For months it’s just been 30 Seconds to Mars and Adelitas Way. Now I’m going back to my retro roots with Kiss, Ace Frehley, Alice Cooper…If I’m not too nervous and disillusioned to hear different music that’s more upbeat…this could mean something good.

Yes,please.

Little signs here and there that the tides are turning. It’s not happening overnight but…I finally have hope and I don’t think anyone could know the magnitude of that unless having been to do Depressiveland.

I still feel salty about some stuff, but I’m a salty chick so it’s okay. I was reading Fangoria when I was 7, I don’t think there was any chance of me being anything but macabre and salty. I’ve spent so much time wanting other people to like me for me that it was lost on me…I like me for me. Not like I wanna hump my own leg or anything but I don’t see anything all that fatal about me. I’m different and I’m not the one with a problem with it. Those that have a problem are just so much flotsam and jetsam.

In all my narcissistic truth and glory…I like being a big bucket of nutsy kookoo who has Hello Kitty and Furbys alongside coffin candles and a plethora of skulls.

Later I’ll list all the stuff about myself I don’t like.

But all the stuff people seem put off by, like my home decor and me being a contradiction of evil and cutesey…I LOVE that about me.,

And since that’s the first good thing I’ve had to say about myself since oh, August…I’m soo telling the shrink Wednesday that the Viibryd seems to be helping.

YES PLEASE!!!!

 

Fuck The Status Quo

Posted in depression with tags , , , , on February 10, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

If you are reading this in hopes of something profound and lighthearted, please move along. Nothing of that ilk to see her.

The shark week hormones are swirling like a tornado funnel cloud and it is not pretty. Not for me, not for anyone who has done the tiniest thing to irk me, fail me, dismiss me. If there is ANY slight you have committed against me, the hormones are swirling, kicking up the dust, and arming with so much anger and resentment that avoiding me is a good idea. I have been trying to isolate myself because my mood is vile and I am in crampy pain from hell and OF COURSE this is when everyone decides to come by and visit. To my credit I haven’t taken anyone’s head off. Also, I have shown as much enthusiasm for socializing as one might display for a lobotomy with an ice pick. NOT a good time. I try to keep it in check but if hormones were that easily controlled the world would be a significantly different place. This shit is like being drunk and on drugs all at once.

My net was down for 2 days so at least I didn’t offend anyone on line or post anything too vicious.

Which leads me to the title.

I’ve done soo much introspection and soul searching I could puke. The fact is, I have mental illnesses. You don’t snap out of them, you don’t “behave” your way out of them. You deal best you can by taking the meds and struggling to survive.

The “therapy” solution everyone touts as gospel…I’ve come to the conclusion that at a certain point, it does not work or even help. What therapy has done for me more than anything is make me aware of all these labels of disorders for my personality thus giving me a dozen other things to feel inferior for and resentful about. Seriously. No one seems to want to THINK about, and hey, maybe this is exclusive to my local center but…You can’t walk in and say “I’m struggling with some things, I’d like to talk to someone.”

Oh, they will give you someone to talk to. AFTER “intake sessions”. This is where they spend maybe an hour total asking routine questions from their little counselor book THEN they’ve earned to distinction of knowing you well enough to label you with this disorder and that disorder, sticking it in your file for good. Your mental illness is not a factor. You were raped in an alley once by a biker gang and now you fear dark alleys and are paranoid of men in biker jackets? PARANOID DISORDER. Therefore it’s all your fault for not getting over it and allowing it to affect your life.

BULLSHIT.

If I could go in and talk to someone without this labeling thing being a necessity…I’d be okay with therapy. But this shit, combined with this new regime that even asks to know if you’re sexually active, as if that has any bearing on your financial stress or difficult with single parenting…I find this intrusive, offensive and frankly, asinine.

The bottom line for me is… I have NEVER fit in the neat little box society dictated, not even as a small child. I’ll be damned if you will convince me I had a personality disorder when I was six and preferred playing with cats to dressing up as a princess. Some people…are different. Society favors words like “eccentric” and “weird.”

I like the term unconventional. Just because I am not on board with what society dictates as a norm doesn’t mean my way is a disorder. The road less traveled is just that. I have a slew of unconventional beliefs that will be labeled disorders and some sort of psychological scar and still… my conviction is iron.

I do not kill people. I don’t torture small animals. I do not steal. I do not get jollies hurting others physically or emotionally. I loathe drama. I don’t desire to be the center of attention. I don’t feel the need to convert others to my way of thinking.

I am not the fucked up mess their personality disorder labels have made me feel I am. My entire misery begins and ends with trying to be something I am not. THAT is the disorder, THAT is what causes all of my unhappiness.

Mind you, it does not negate my own awareness or need to take responsibility for my flaws that contribute to my problems. The biggest step I can take for this is to stop trying to be something I am not. For an anti conformist I seem to spend a lot of time trying to conform and fit into that box societal norms create. That’s my failure. And it needs to stop.

And while this no doubt earns me a brand new personality disorder label, I’m pretty convinced now that I am seeing the true problem in my behavior. There is nothing fatally wrong with me.

I’m just a little feral and surrounded by people who want to own a domesticated pet.

Fuck the status quo. Their way didn’t work for me in spite of me being told a thousand times is MUST be done that way.

If I can ever get out of this vile mind frame and think clearly…Maybe it’s time to start thinking about what I want, what will work for me.

If that fails..fuck it, I’m taking up voodoo.

Got venom?

Posted in depression with tags , , , on February 8, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

I had so much hope that today would be different than yesterday since school was open again and routine was returning.

Oh, noooo, the chemical maelstrom in me has other ideas.

I was ok until after I got my kid on the bus. Then it became a two hour ordeal trying to bully myself into a shower. Which is tough enough with depression but when you’re shivering non stop and it won’t alleviate even with blankets or layers of clothes..The prospect of ice cold air on your skin is as appealing as gargling razor blades. I hemmed and hawed internally. Finally ripped the band aid off, so to speak, and enjoyed another hour trying to get warm again but hey, at least I met societal norms. That’s all life is about anyway, trying to fit some mold and live up to expectations of others because of the godforsaken mold.

I thought it might be okay, picked my kid up off the bus, thought grocery shopping was in order…SMACK!!!! From out of nowhere, and i mean nowhere, came the anxiety, paranoia, fear, and panic. It hit like a storm, no preamble, no trigger.

Which makes me want to eat the souls of people who tell me to identify my triggers.If I could I would, damn it! It’s not that simple for me. Maybe it is for a million other people who fit the textbook mold. But on my child’s life I swear…there was no trigger today. It just hit like a linebacker and I went down hard. I got us to a store grabbed necessities and came back home because I just couldn’t do more than that. Not with a woozy swimming head and this overwhelming paranoia causing me to feel absolutely terrified.

My old counselor, who did NOT suck at his job, told me some days when it’s that bad, you can only meet one small goal and then give yourself permission to not feel well and ride it out. That advice has been gospel to me for sooo many years. He was a bloody sage, and I mean that whole heartedly. Best.counselor.ever.

Except I get the displeasure of being surrounded by a new regime of people who somehow think I am just not trying hard enough or am enabling myself to be depressed. I mean, the ONE amazing thing learned in therapy has become this thing to bite me on the ass now and I am fucking resentful as fucking hell.

Which brings me to…maelstrom. Yeah, it took me awhile to figure out why my Lithium apathy was suddenly dulled and all of this aggressive hatred and anger was coming on.

Hello, PMS. I don’t have the happy PMS, though.I get the dysphoric kind that once a month, turns me into a psycho hose beast. Or more so, anyway. I don’t like feeling angry at people for no good reason, especially when they mean well and it’s just that my opinion differs from theirs and my opinion happens to be reinforced with a surge of unpleasant and uncontrollable hormones.

This is not something anyone without menstrual dysphoria can understand, not simply men. Some women don’t have it and they don’t get it either. But it’s a lot like having a fever and you can just feel it raging through you, making you feel hot and flushed and heated. I get this for a week every damned month. It makes me volatile, but it isn’t a choice. I didn’t opt in. I’ve had men with the mentality that “women use their periods as an excuse to be a bitch to men.” Oh, sweeties, if only that were true, I could turn it off and on.

Kind of how I feel about being bipolar. There is no off switch.

But again, goes back to the mold and meeting societal expectations. I don’t even fit into my disorder because all my symptoms are so outside the box. Which makes people question its legitimacy.

I am just feeling so hostile and I hate it, this is not me. Apathy is my thing. I like numb. A little anger and self indignation are good. THIS level of anger is just wrong. I know it’s the hormones colliding with the mental stuff and I am trying to rein it in and not spaz out…But sometimes it gets away from me and sometimes venting is good. I’ll never be convinced otherwise. At least I vent by writing. I dont think anyone has ever ended up on Deadly Women for angry typing.

I’m pondering the death of this blog. I’m just so disgusted with everything, with myself. I wish I’d never learned about mental illness. Life was less complicated back when people just thought I was an eccentric nutbar. Maybe I’ve become to absorbed in mental illness. Or maybe I’;m just in such an altered state I should go to bed to ensure a surge of hormones don’t drive me to start chopping off my hair.  I used to do that. A lot.

I even hate this blog right now. And my nerves are so bad, I have’t been able to listen to music in 2 days because that which I normally love and thrive on…now sets off panic attacks. I have no idea why. But the panic is pretty much hovering near the service constantly these days. I don’;t know why that is, either.

Maybe I should just go with the anger, I at least know what that’s about and that it will pass in a few days. This other stuff….defies logic and explanation and that’s just gonna make me crazier. I’d say how crappy I feel right now but then I’d have to feel guilty for it because obviously it’s all my own fault. Yeah, next time I won’;t check that box on the application saying “Yes,I want to be mentally ill.”

Ass trash.