Archive for May, 2014

Machine Gun To The Brain

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , on May 31, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

I am going to rename my kid Uzi. She’s been awake 45 mins and already had three screaming kicking mimis and hurt two different cats. She has screamed “I don’t like you” several times, been placed in time out several times…My brain hurts already and the day is just starting. I have an entire summer of this. Yay. People are like, “Oh, you’re always complaining about her, it can’t be that bad.” Bet me and fuckin’ lose. And being surrounded by simpletons it escapes their limited intellect that I am not merely complaining. I am crying out for help. I need help with this child. I am doing everything I am told to do and it is not getting better. I am frustrated. I love my kid to pieces but being treated like crap every single day is taking a toll on me. I guess my psyche isn’t that strong. Sue me for being human.

So Bex, Spook, and I went to R’s house last night so Mrs. R could meet Bex. Wine was involved. Happy Niki came out to play. I hate her. It was less booze and more mania. I hate manic Niki. She is too bubbly and funny and spirited and social and she just does these things like say “Oh, we should totally do that one day!” Then the booze and mania wear off and anxiety returns and it’s like FUCK, what fake illness can I develop to get out of this? Because without the mania and lessened anxiety, I can’t think of anything I want to do less than get trapped in a car out of town with other people.

Yeah I am fucked up. I shouldn’t do these things. When I am happy and fun people come to expect it. I can’t maintain it, ffs, then they’re like, who are you, you depressed paranoid husk of a human? Ass trash. What I wish I could be and who I really am are vastly different things. I am soo content to stay home and write or whatever. I socialize because I am told it is necessary and good for me, but twice a year would be enough to appease me. It’s not even that they’re bad company. It’s me. I’m just out of my comfort zone and I need to be back in it. Neurotic or not, it’s been that way for 20 plus years and I don’t think it’s going to change because it simply is who I am. It’s not a disorder, not being anti social. I am just a very introverted person who enjoys doing her own thing.

I was glad to come home. Especially after R telling me he’d done an experiment on me last year to see if I could be trusted. He apparently left a hundred dollar bill laying out for the better part of a week at the shop just to see if I would take it. I don’t even remember it in all honesty because he was always leaving shit out. X Mains, power supplies, various ICS. I mean, seriously, it’s all buried under a pile of other shit, and it never changes no matter how many times you tidy up…It becomes like background noise. Why would I care if he got ripped off a hundred bucks? Leave it laying out you kinda deserve it, ass trash. It would never occur to me to take it, because as I told him, I am not who I used to be. I found mood stabilizers that correct my faulty wiring so I don’t do idiotic shit like shopping sprees on other people’s credit cards anymore. Talk about holding a grudge for 20 years. Stupid, too, considering a hundred bucks is nothing compared to having all the info for your limitless credit card, jackass. I wanna jack you up, I’m not gonna half ass it. I’m not manic anymore. Now I am just a plotting bitch.

Which is why I save all my text messages in case any assholes think about throwing me under the bus at a later date to save their own asses. I don’t think so, Tim. I may be paranoid and nutsy kookoo but I’ve had enough tire tracks on me over the years that I don’t experiment with trustworthiness. I assume the worst and make plans to protect myself against the asshole nature we all possess.

So while certainly miffed by being a guinea pig..I can most certainly appreciate the underhanded little experiment. Once upon a time, I might have done the same, back when I had faith in people and cared enough to consider they *might not* fuck me over. Now I just assume they will and make contingency plans. Not a great way to through life but it comforts me to an extent to know if the ship goes down, I can take the other rats right down with me.

My evil is kind of hot.

I got to see a mirror of myself last night. It’s weird being on the other side. When we got home, Bex had an abrupt mood crash and left the room so huffily I was sitting here wondering what I could have done to piss her off. I was playing Word POker and not saying a word. But I asked and she said it wasnt me so I let it go.

And realized, that’s me. That’s exactly how I am. How others see me. I guess I understand better now. Why it’s so difficult for others to deal with me. It’s like a thunderburst and rainstorm from out of nowhere and you do get paranoid that maybe you inadvertently did something to bring it about. It’s rarely like that, though. At least I know better than to be a pestering ass about it. I hate when people do the “are you okay? what’s wrong now? why are you mad at me? How can I cheer you up? Are you okay? Are you okay?”

It’s ass irritating as MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY.

Unfortunately, you can’t put adults in time out.

Now back to Uzi. I mean, Spook.  I feel like I’ve been embalmed. Socializing does this to me. And we get to go do it again tonight at my brother’s graduation cookout. Joy. My gums will be bleeding by then from the way I am gnashing my teeth. The Uzi child wants fed. I guess a bowl of Toddler Kibble won’t do the trick.

See how my brain is all over the place?  Try living this way and not being nutsy kookoo. The Uzi to the brain is just an added bonus. I gotta stop peeing in people’s Cheerios.

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High Strung Much?

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on May 30, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

My mood seems to be holding steady. Not euphoric, not in the abyss. I can deal with this. Not optimal but manageable.

I am noticing what a crappy mom I am. And most of it correlates to the mental stuff. While atm, the depression and mood swings are holding…My anxiety and irritability are off the bloody charts. Becca is so patient with Spook, doesn’t raise her voice, doesn’t spaz out when Spook is at her irritating worst. (Well aside from the time she stomped off to her room and then yesterday when Spook wouldn’t stop banging metal train on the table and tossed her computer on the laptop so hard it bounced in an effort to confiscate and hide the train.)

Today we went to the gas station and Spook took off running, right in front of a car. Becca was calm, I was screaming in panic. Not my finest moment, but the panic was just instantaneous. I was terrified. And frustrated, because the child knows better. She goes out of her way to push my buttons. And the counselor says she feeds off my anxiety. Well, wtf am I supposed to do? If I could do away with all this mental bullshit, I’d do it in a heartbeat.

I am at this point where I feel inferior and incompetent. Then there’;s this part of my brain that simply doesn’t care anymore. The child wants  a battle of wills, she’s got one. My mom yelled at me, constantly. I survived. It actually made me grow a thicker skin. I don’t like raising my voice, or the satan voice, as I call it, but it’s the only thing that gets her attention. Her new thing is get in my face when I say no and scream YES! I have seen kids do that, but she has taken it to an extreme and no amount of time outs or taking things away is having an impact.

So I am just trying to survive here, screw being super perfect mom. I love her, I take care of  her, I am gonna make mistakes. I can only hope she turns out okay in spite of them. I TRY.

Meanwhile…Neighbors are moving out around me left and right and my paranoia and panic are rising with word that the landlord didn’t pay ytaxes so by September I may likely be homeless. This is how it goes, rats abandoning ship before it takes on more water. I have no idea what I will do if it comes down to that. And it had me so stressed earlier, I went from feeling pretty damn good to having one of my lovely little stress stomach aches from hell. Stellar.

Amidst it all, the one saving grace is that…Becca is amazing. Sawsome. She has such a good heart, even if she doesn’t know it. And I don’t think she realizes has grateful I am and how much I appreciate and value her friendship. The way we mesh so well is as magical as finding a unicorn is real. My whole life I’ve been told I can’t get along with anyone, I run them all off. This proves all I needed was someone who gets me and knows the mental stuff isn’t personal. It means everything to me.

Okay, overemoting portion of the post done.

Maybe something funny to close with. (BTW, thanks Bex I have had Metallica stuck in my head since you sent me this. Ass trash.)

Metallicat

Ask Me About My Inferiority Complex

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on May 29, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

I had my parent teacher conference yesterday. Bex went with. It was the fucking Twilight Zone. Spook sat there, calm and polite, quiet, not interrupting every five seconds. No fits. Totally different kid. And her teachers attest to as much, unable to believe she has punched me and hurt the cats. Which is proof she only acts out for me. The teacher says she may feel she is not getting enough attention from me and I need to rectify that. I am with her every hour of every day. I try to interact with her. Maybe my anxiety and impatience prevent me from being super mom who sacrifices her sanity to entertain her kid 24-7. I am sorry for that but it is what it is. I TRY. I guess I am failing. There is nothing like other people to make you feel like an utter waste of space who can’t do anything right.

Yeah, it’s my inferiority complex but oddly, it is only fed by others. On my own, I am fine with who I am. When others point out all my shortcomings, and I know how hard I am trying only to fail, it metastasizes into this all encompassing “why the fuck bother” mentality. It even leads to “maybe she’d be better off with someone else raising her, someone without mental issues to hinder them from being an entertainment director who worships at her feet. Because that’s kind of how it feels, like I am supposed to change who I am, including cure my own mental illness, to be what she needs me to be. Maybe I am just a victim of my own upbringing. My parents didn’t lavish me with attention or activities or even praise. (Which I do try to praise her often because I know what it;s like to never hear about anything but what you do wrong.) I spend more time with my kid than they did with me, one on one. I TRY. Which is why I get so bent. It’s not easy juggling mental illness and single parenthood and I may not be special because others do it every day but damn. A little slack would be nice.

I often think I’d get more credit if I ran a fucking meth lab and let her roam the neighborhood at all hours with a chainsaw to play with.

Wasn’t it Eleanor Roosevelt who said, “No one can make you feel inferior without your permission?” She was full of shit. None of us start out insecure. Life gives us reasons to be insecure. Judgements. Criticisms. Highlighting your flaws while ignoring your good qualities. Over years and years, it takes a toll. Not once did I ever say, “Oh, cool, all these idiots are right, I totally give them permission to make me feel shitty about myself.” Passive brainwashing is what it is. Plus a mother who tells you self confidence is the same as conceit doesn’t fuckin’ help.

Yesterday, aside from my inferiority complex rearing its ugly head, was a good day. BEx and I just hung out at home. She cooked. (Yummy pork chops.) I wrote. A lot. I am learning to adapt to writing in spurts where I can steal a moment for a paragraph here and there. It’s not optimal but it’s what I have to work with and I am clinging to it for dear life.

Today…I am low. Not like abysmal, but my kid threw a chair at the patio table when I told her no, I would not buy her a toy at the store. I don’t know why she acts that way for me. I guess I am too grouchy. I wouldn’t be if she were like every other kid I ever dealt with. There’s rebellion and defiance but enough groundings and swats on the butt and losing favorite things…It sinks in. Not with Spook. She’s not pushing boundaries. She’s trying to break me. Some days, it seems like she will succeed before my own fucked up brain finds a way to do me in.

Other days (usually when manic or in a good, strong mood) I will think, you have got a battle on your hands, little girl, because that stubborn streak of yours comes from me and I have had years and years to perfect it…Delusions of grandeur, no doubt.

I keep being told she is a normal kid. Yet no one wants to say I am a normal parent, putting forth effort even in the face of abject failure. I stick around (when her other parent bailed) and I try and I try…But so much defiance wears me down. The teacher says she talks about me constantly, draws pictures of me and her (and apparently if the picture shows us smiling then the kid loves the parent) and yet…I feel like she hates me to the point of wanting me dead. Maybe my own neuroses but…To try so hard and get this treatment in return is a soul sucking drain on limited resources.

Still, I try. Because I love her with everything I am, even  with my stupid fucked up bipolar brain that never behaves for me either. I need a vacation.

Unfortunately, you can’t pop your skull open and take a break from your own mind.

After The Fall

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , on May 28, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

I was holding my own earlier.

Mid day from out of nowhere, a ninja mood swing attacked. Anger, hatred, hostility, hopelessness, resentment, depression, anxiety, suspicion, paranoia…It all hit me at once.

I have little doubt it was precipitated by my kid being an absolutely defiant chatterbox from hell. I keep trying to absolve her with “she’s being a kid” but honestly, if I had acted the way she does, my dad would have busted my butt with his belt. She is at her worst with me and I swear it’s ADHD. I don’t want her labeled or drugged but she’s often beyond my control and it’;s taking a toll on me. Usually it just raises my anxiety and irritation.

Today my mood just went from okay to gutter ball. Nothing bad happened, no true deviation. Just hours of “mommy mommy mommy” and her smiling as she did things she knew better than to do…My stress level skyrocketed. Still, I tried to play Candyland with her, took her outside, played a couple of our giggle games…And she was fine in short spurts.

I am in over my head here. I can’t manage my illness and manage a banshee as well. What gets me is how abrupt it was.To go from functional and low to shut down and in the abyss so quickly…It scared me. The bad thoughts emerged and I started thinking everything was going to go to shit, everyone was out to get me, nothing is good…

It’s maddening. It would drive you insane, if you know, you weren’t insane to begin with.

I was so dejected I fell into bed before 10pm. I woke at 11:30 and have been up since. Showered, made some tea, had some leftover supper. I have my kid’s parent teacher exit visit at 8:3o this morning. Then I have to take her to get her glasses adjusted again. Get a few groceries. Such is my exciting life of mundane and mood swings. Bex has had some “friends” commenting on her spending her summer here doing nothing but hanging out inside and it makes me feel shitty. I wish I could afford to do things. I wish I could handle the stimuli of the petri dish. I wish I could be anything but the clusterfuck that I am.

Oddly, the clusterfuck I am is just fine provided there’s no negative input from others expecting me to be what I’m not which I then transfer onto myself. Bex seems fine with things, as she says, this is pretty much what she’d be doing back home. I never liked her friends, anyway. They were there when she was doing good, and complete shallow assholes when she fell into the abyss. I’m going to go with the “they’re ass trash” mentality, if only to absolve myself for being a crappy hostess.

The mood is on the rise, at least. Hopefully another week or so and the Paxil adjustment will smooth out. Because if this up and down shit is here to stay, I’m gonna hazard a guess that the Lamictal is doing fuck all. It could be worse. I could be taking Remeron like Bex and living in a perpetual coma. Except I’ve been there and done that. A month of sleeping 14–16 hours asleep I told the dr no more. That’s not life and sleeping isn’t a cure for depression. That doctor who wouldn’t change my zoloft when I was getting worse instead of better found out…I will do without meds as opposed to taking something that makes me feel even worse. Maybe going off meds is a bad thing, but if you’re met with a doctor who dismisses your input in favor of his own delusions…

Sometimes you’ve got to say fuck it. I wish I’d done that with the lithium much, much sooner. I think it was making me worse but I was so desperate…That desperation may have cost me six months of my life and added another notch of misery to my memory.

This psych stuff is a pain in the ass. The need to overdose and sleep all the time or drink or cut…It’s understandable. Because you just hit a wall with the misery and nothing ever changing for long. The fact I am still managing without resorting to old bad habits is a good indicator that maybe I have finally gotten it through my head crutches are not cures. I remember the trazadone/seroquel days when I’d sleep 12, 14 hours a day and I was content to do so. Looking back, I wonder how I didn’t notice that I wasn’t actually living. I was existing in a cloud of sleep and brief lucid periods. Which is why I have a year’s worth of Trazadone stockpiles. I have zero desire to go back to that place. And with a kid, it’s not like  I have the option anyway.

I don’t like the remnants of the earlier mood shift that linger now. I am still paranoia, suspicious, convinced something bad is on the horizon. Yet nothing has indicated as such so it must be a byproduct of the crazy creeping back in. I wish crazy would go knock at someone else’s door for a awhile.

I need a vaycay from the cray-cray.

I really need to avoid my kid’s friends and their lingo.

Holding My Own

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

The crazy knocked on the door over the weekend but by yesterday I felt more solid. Productive, too. And Bex has been helping out and I haven’t even had to put a gun to her head.It’s awesome. Already she has proven more interesting and useful than both of the idiots I married. If it weren’t for that whole thing where I like men and she likes women…Though she seems to be sitting around waiting for everything to turn to shit and us to try to kill each other and it irks me. That level of pessimism is MY forte, goddamn it.

It occurred to me that I may not actually be slipping. My Paxil was increased and the dose split into twice a day so my system is adjusting to that. It’s bound to make things unstable for a little while. The heat and my kid when she channels satan are major stressors, too, so no doubt that fucks with me head.

All in all..It’s working out beyond my wildest expectations. I’ve never clicked so completely with a person. We can sit in the same room and talk or just be quiet and click away on our keyboards. Sometimes we even send IM’s when we’re six feet away from each other. It’s funny. I’ve even let her use my computer. I didn’t even let husbands touch my computers. They were threats. They were unworthy. Bex does not give me bad vibes or heebie jeebies. That matters. She’s not judged me, not once complained about my messy house or the stampede of cats. She is sawsome that way. I have never been so happy to have been wrong about someone. I mean, it wasn’t without basis, my own mom says I live in squalor and my home is a dump. To be so harshly judged by people who claim to love you, it’s hard not to expect the same from others who come from a different country and socioeconomic background.

I was wrong. And it’s excellent to be wrong.

It’s also excellent to be able to breathe in the presence of another. I normally sit around waiting for people to leave, nervous and bored and irate that they are distracting me from living inside my head with their stupid reality. It’s not like that now. Companionable silence, chat when it happens naturally…I guess that is how it is for everyone else all the time. It’s never been like this for me before. People have always been an irritant, like a brillo pad to the skin. Of course, this is the first time in my life I have interacted with someone who has the mood crashes and anxiety issues I do.  It makes all the difference in the world when you can be sullen and quiet or leave the room to regroup without an interrogation and oh woe is me “what did i do to piss you off now” spiel. FFS, mood swings are not personal when you have bipolar. Nice someone else gets that.

I have written 40 pages in three days. With Spook and her friends running riot and Bex here and cats everywhere. It’s all just clicking. If I could avoid the abrupt mood crashes and anxiety, it would be, dare I say, happy fun ball territory.

Just gotta watch my back. Crazy can come knocking at any time.

I can feel the crazy creeping back up on me…

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on May 25, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

I had a good six day run of mania and functionality. I was awesome, in fact.

I was also high as a kite on a manic episode so pretty much all that “happy fun ball” Niki that came out was an illusion. Kind of like the way alcohol can be liquid courage. Mania is instant social skills. Because who doesn’t like someone bouncing off walls and emanating all those happy high vibes for the emotional vampires of society to feast on.

I think I’ve hit the wall today. Which is common with manic episodes. It was a busy week, lots of anxiety, lots of happy fun ball feelings. Feeling confident and calm and laughing so easily and so genuinely…I hate coming down from those manic episodes. Because it could be months before I have another and that is long time to feel weak and vulnerable and down on yourself and not laugh or enjoy things.

This is where the term “bipolar depression” applies. Crash landing from being in the clouds to face down on the concrete.

It’s okay. Been through it more times than I can count. It sucks but I’ll live. But the crazy IS coming. My spidey sense is warning me in the form of clenched jaw, teeth gnashing, jumping at every sound, looking over my shoulder because I am sure I heard something or sensed something. Yesterday my mindset was “Hey, maybe not everyone is out to get me, and even if they are…I am awesome so I don’t care what they think.”

Today I want to wear my ass trash tiara and lick my wounds because I am pretty sure I am not awesome, I am pretty sure I fucking suck. Because I can’t even manage to hold on to a good mood for more than six goddamn days. Nothing traumatic has happened. Things have actually gone well beyond my wildest dreams. And still…The crazy creeps back up on me like a stealthy ninja and all the good feelings and confidence abandons me and I am stuck in Ass TRashville, depression capitol, population me.

Yes, it will pass. When is the question. I am not fun when I am in this state of mind. I know Bex will get it but I don’t. I just want to live in the same headspace every day. I take all these stupid pills and they do help to an extent but when you crash this hard…It’s like the pills are a placebo.

Off to stare into space like a drooling zombie and ride this storm out. I hear crazy knocking at the door, sticking its tongue out me, mocking me because I got a taste of sanity and happiness and now it’s back to kick my ass.

Bipolar never runs out of fresh hell to throw my way.

Let the new fresh hell begin….

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , on May 23, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

Last day of school. Bex and I went to her end of school picnic. All that sunshine and kids in bright colors was about to give me a brain bleed. Bex is recovering from a week of overstimulation. Tonight we brave my brother’s high school graduation. I am not looking forward to it. I don’t do unfamiliar places and large crowds with any grace. And the spawn is going with, so it should prove to be living hell.

All week Spook has been in prime brat mode. Like a machine gun to my fucking brain. I am so sick of the “kids will be kids” argument. NO. My kid is outside the boundaries with me. At home she is one person. When she is out and has an adoring audience, she is another. The questions never end. The tantrums never end. The defiance never ends. My nerves are already frayed and I am just now embarking on three months of 24-7 of this shit. I have a feeling my Xanax stash is gonna be hit very hard. Yesterday was so bad with her, it literally drove me to drink.

She is dividing her smothering technique between me and Bex. Every time Becca gets out her ipad, Spook is in her face, distracting her, driving her nuts. At one point she literally said enough and went to her room to escape. I sent Spook to her room until I calmed down then I went and gave a stern lecture. She just kept sticking her tongue out at me, an inch from my face. Those who think I have no impulse control are bloody fucking morons. Every time she turns the defiance up to ten and I don’t eat my young…That’s hella impulse control.

On the plus side…Now I have someone who has witnessed the flip side to my little angel everyone else sees only the well behaved side of. Now I have someone who knows I am not being a bitch, not exaggerating, not trying to make my kid look bad by complaining about little things. This is 99% of our time. I live for the rare days she is manageable.

The other day I said something to the extent of “Four year olds are essentially bipolar” because of the way Spook will be bawling and telling me I am mean one minute then climbing on me and telling me I am the best mom ever. So I am trying to view her behavior as others view my illness. She’s just being a kid and kids are basically sociopaths without social conditioning. Not really her fault. (I lie on that one because I do hold her accountable for some things.,) I think of how pretty much everyone in my life has abandoned me because they confuse my disorder with my personality. Rather than think, “This is typical of bipolar, it will pass and it’s not personal,” They can’t wait to take it personally and dismiss me as some unpleasable misanthrope.

I don’t want to cast my kid in the role of lost cause when she is just being a kid to a large extent. The dividing line for me is the fact she knows how to behave at school and for others. And she does it. Yet with me, suddenly she doesn’t know or forgot or simply wants to drive me to jump off a bridge. The counselor needs to spend 24 hours in my shoes. Her divine patience, education, and experience wouldn’t mean shit when faced with Tasmanian Spook. But then again, my kid doesn’t act that way when there are witnesses. She must think she can manipulate Bex and therefore she can act out around her.

The counselor says Spook is pushing boundaries. I think she has some sort of selective oppositional defiance disorder. I say go play outside, suddenly she doesn’t want to. I tell her no, you can’t, she has an hour long tantrum insisting she wants to go out. I feed her apple slices, she doesn’t like them. The school gives them to her, she loves them. It’s maddening and I don’t think at nearly 5 it is totally normal.But what do I know. The problem is apparently all me, according to the counselor.

And i think while she may have good ideas and some logic, she is also full of shit buying into Spook’s angelic act.

Moodwise…It’s not been so bad since the other night. I am hoping the split and increase in Paxil will make a difference on the night time crashes. Anxiety is off the charts, though. All these outings are wearing me down. Too much. People, kids, sunshine, heat. It’s got me on edge.

The beauty part though is, after 30 years of absolutely loathing others and waiting with bated breath for them to go away, especially if in my home and personal space..I have found the one person who does not make me feel threatened. I have no problem with her helping herself to food or tv or stereo. (Normally such things send me into meltdown.) We have space, we have companionship. No arguments. It is an amazing thing to spend your entire life feeling so alone because no one gets you and then…you find someone who pretty much does and likes you anyway. I’ve been told so many times “You don’t like anyone, you can’t be made happy.” No I’ve just spent all my life surrounded by people who don’t get mental illness and don’t do a goddamn thing to help make it suck less.

Now I have someone who does.

It makes a difference. It doesn’t cure but it does help. I hope she feels the same way because I really hate when people say one thing to spare my feelings when they mean the opposite. I would never want to make anyone miserable. Well, maybe some people who are assholes to me. I’m petty that way.

Now…back to the Uzi to the brain. I love her madly but honestly, there should be mommy time outs. Five, ten mins to regroup, go back to having my brain turned into swiss cheese by her verbal chatter bullets and screaming mimis. Rinse, lather, repeat. I know I am the mom, I am supposed to be more mature, blah blah blah.

I still want my fucking time out. And a kevlar helmet would be nice, though I doubt even kevlar would useful against Spook. 😉