Archive for August, 2014

Yeah…Sure…Why not…Uh huh…

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

That’s my mood today. My kid is yapping at me and it’s just…yeah…sure…why not…uh huh…
I may have just agreed to buy her a wood chipper I am so dazed at the moment.
This is a life hangover day. I was out in the dish five straight days. Functioning. Interacting. Trying desperately to be something I’m not: social. Others thrive on social interaction. It devours my soul and leaves me feeling embalmed and emotionally bankrupt.
It’s not so much that the people I have daily contact with are demanding or mean or anything of the sort.
This is just me. I have limited resources on a social level. I am so happy in my own little cocoon of solitude and living in my own head that having to step outside of it is a draining experience. To do it daily for five straight days, especially after my cat dying and my car basically dying…I haven’t really had a crash and burn and I desperately need one.
For me, sinking into a low mood with tears and misery is like a reboot for a computer. I need to purge it all then sleep then wake up and start over again.
And because my brain is a lot like Windows ME (migraine edition) running more than two or three programs simultaneously results in constant messages about system resources running low.
And there’s also a partition in my brain running Vista, which is incompatible with, well, life.
Uh huh. Sure. Why not. I guess so.
I am on auto pilot.
Most people fight having some sort of mental meltdown. I crave one.
Because mine usually don’t last long, it truly is just like rebooting a computer. Except instead of clicking on “restart” I have a crying jag, sleep it off, and start with a clean slate.
It’s often amazing how a simple reboot can make a computer function so much better. And my brain is the same way. As numb as I am today, as spaced out as I am…My brain is still on overload, running too many programs that it’s memory can’t handle.
(For some reason I have the voice of a Dalek in my head shouting REBOOT REBOOT REBOOT)
Hopefully this three day weekend will give me the much needed reboot I need.
I think I need to explain to a 5 year old that she really can’t have a tree chipper, mommy was just joking.

If moods were part of the color spectrum

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

I got to thinking earlier…It’s difficult to explain moods to those who don’t experience the severe ups and downs of bipolar disorder. Maybe if it could be simplified by colors it would be better understood. (I’m a dreamer, I know.)

Rainbow colors- the euphoria of a full blown manic episode

Neon pink, purple, blue, green, yellow, orange- the hyperfocused energetic productive hypomanic state

Sky blue- subdued and calm

Dark blue- calm before a mood storm

Baby pink- mellow and loving and affectionate

Hot pink- hypersexuality caused by mania

Orange- hypomanic chattiness

Green- apathetic

Tye dye- high mood with lack of focus or productivity

Olive green- depressed mood with no reason

White- spaced out and blank

Yellow- genuinely cheerful and up with no mania

Crimson red- sudden mood shift into anger without any particular trigger

Purple- mood not high or low, nerves calm

Gray- that in between place after a manic high and prior to a crippling months long depression

BLACK- the color of the depressive abyss where everything is hopeless, awful, and you are hateful, sad, pissed off, and want to die…but you don’t know why

Brown- the point where the black has permeated you so completely you entertain notions of ceasing to exist…and it makes you feel giddy
I don’t know how to explain it any better than that.

I’d say tonight I am in the purple zone.

I’ll take it. Much like rainbows being elusive, so are the colors of the mood spectrum in how long they stick around.


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

Batcaving: Kwee and Bex speak for retiring to individual bedrooms for the evening.
I’m getting a little nervous because I am batcaving earlier and earlier and more and more.
I wanna think it’s because I like using my desktop and it’s in my bedroom. And overstimulation does wear me down so space and alone time are necessity.
But it feels a lot like A.) seasonal affect disorder driving me “underground” and making me retreat into myself.
B.) my anxiety from dealing with the petri dish has me so shaken I feel the need for the protective cocoon of my room.
Neither are good signs.
And I am sick of being told that my fears are simple pessimism. After 30 years of seasonal affect…i know the signs well. And i think even if I am fighting it with all my might…it’s gonna happen anyway. My fear is justified. And I am surrounded by idiots.

I’m hanging tough but I feel the earth starting to tremble beneath me. And after last year’s 8 month depression from hell…I am scared to death.

Fractures In The Foundation

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

I found my beloved cat of 5 years, Belladonna, dead under my bed Monday night.We have no idea what happened. She wasn’t that old but she was pregnant, after having had a litter just six months ago, and it was 94 degrees and still sweltering in here even with air so…Many possibilities.
I am shattered by the loss. Initially, I felt panic then the tears started. I’m pretty sure my outburst freaked Becca out but I’ve bawled like a baby over every pet I’ve had to bury. It’s who I am. My pets become family, like little fur children. And Bella had a special place in my heart because she was just so sweet natured and beautiful and smart. Her loss will be felt for a long time to come. It feels so wrong without her here, I keep looking around thinking I’m going to see her.
I made the wrong move while having my tearfest because I mistakenly thought my dad would give a fuck about Bella since it was he who gave her to me. He screamed, “What the fuck you want me to do about it, bury the cat and be done with it!” Yeah, he’s a fuckhead. I yelled back for him to put the stepmonster on, at least she has empathy. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have called in such a state of emotional uproar. It was my own idiocy thinking I’d get anything but bitched at by him. Most people can seek comfort from their families. I just get more psychological scars from mine.

In addition to my beloved cat passing on, I’ve learned my car’s transmission has conked out. I have NO money to replace it. Or fix it. I’m still driving my mom’s car and since she gave that to my nephew, even though he can’t drive til he turns 18 in 2 years, I am sure the bitching will start soon about me taking his car away. Makes no sense for it to sit there rusting for two years. I need it. He can have it back when he gets his license. Oh, but no, I’m dealing with my insane family so logic won’t apply.

My mom is in agony. She’s got a scratched cornea. Least that made her less venomous toward me.

All in all, aside from stress inducing anxiety attacks left and right…My mood has been sad with just cause but none of the wacko bipolar swings or crashes have happened. Which kind of blows the shrink’s theory that my moods are tied to bad things happening to me. Dead cat, fucked car, and I am still puttering along and trying to roll with the punches.
When I can manage so well with this shit yet come to pieces during a seasonal depression because it snowed…
I just don’t buy the shrink’s theories anymore. She knows fuck all about me. And she’s basically turned me into a trained seal balancing a ball on my nose by making me feel obligated to give glowing mental health reports. Because me not doing well is “upsetting” to her whereas me doing well “makes her day”. No fucking pressure there.

Aside from extreme heat making everyone miserable and cranky, it’s been okay at home. Though the other day I had one of my old patented hostile mood swings and started having thoughts that were completely opposite of what I’d thought just hours before. I used to run with it and worry about the fallout later. And oh there was uber fall out. People really don’t like being snapped and yelled at for seemingly no reason even if you’re not in your right mind.
To my credit, I didn’t spout off this time. I forced it down like rising bile and let it fester and burn in my mind all the while wondering why I was suddenly feeling so venomous over things I really don’t feel that way about. Just like a fever comes over me and my mind starts boiling with the infection of irrational thought. Thankfully, it’s a pattern I’ve identified and am trying to rectify or at least manage. Not one of my finer moments but for that block of time…My mind becomes utterly convinced by whatever negative seed that has planted itself.
Hate it. Wish people understood. But they never do, they just dismiss me as a bitch. I wish it were that simple.

I think this is the calm before the storm, honestly. The only way for me to properly reboot from stress is to have a mini meltdown of tears and a few days of “fuck this, everything is awful, I wish I’d die.” Then I come back up and move along. Maybe it won’t happen this time.


Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , on August 25, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

It’s 94 degrees and I am pretty sure we are dead and this is hell. My sweat is sweating. Hell, my bone marrow is sweating. And now that I’ve gotten the obligatory midwest “bitch about the abysmal weather” part out of the way…
Today has been uneventful. My mood’s held steady, unlike yesterday when it just went into rapid freefall without a trigger.
No, today, the anxiety has been at play with my brain. Creating paranoia and tension, stirring up suspicion and fear, wreaking havoc on my mental state.
My car is in day three of being broken down. Fine, I have my mom’s car so I’m not afoot. But it cost fifty bucks for a tow, which my dad paid, and will no doubt hold over my head for all eternity.
Then I have to rely on R to get the parts and fix it, which will cost me my soul or what’s left of it.
I am grateful I have people who care enough to help out, I really am.
But I despise being indebted to anyone because people simply cannot be trusted to take an inch when owed an inch. Nooo, they want a mile or more. You bought me cigarettes so I owe you a kidney? Um…no. You bought me a car part so I must be at your beck and call the next three years?
I don’t think so, Tim.
The storm is brewing and the anxiety is amplifying everything, telling me nothing is free, people don’t help for no reason, they want something I’m not going to be willing or able to give.
My dad already screamed at me this morning, “Don’t fucking panic on me!”
Um..panic disorder, duh.
I’ve not heard a word from R and I figured I’d at least hear him complaining about fixing the car. This sets off panic receptors and makes me dig through my mental recesses for something I did that may have pissed him off. Because it could never be something benign in my fucked up head, like he’s busy or it’s too hot to work outdoors. Nooo, I must have done something to bring the silence on.

I hate my brain.
Perception counts, and if faulty wiring makes you perceive things incorrectly…You’re running on wrong information and heading for disaster.
Unfortunately, they don’t sell “lucid thought” at Wal-Mart.


Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on August 24, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

It’s cooooming….
I am on that precipice, looking down, feeling my feet wobble and my knees tremble. The slightest breeze will push me over the edge and then it will be free fall until I go splat.
Every. fucking. year. I won’t go fully down the rabbit hole til Octoberish but it’s starting. I’ve learned to recognize the signs. No matter how hard I try to fight it…I get my ass kicked. I keep trying because submission is not in my nature. Depression doesn’t care, it just keeps beating you down until you don’t even realize the descent has started.

I am becoming hypersensitive, taking everything as some sort of insult or personal attack. I feel the suspicion boiling up, telling me no one gives a damn, they just tolerate me.
On one hand, I generally don’t care what others think.
On the other hand,I do care what I think and the shifting chemicals as summer draws closer to the end are sparking up the epic bucket of crazy.
How can something not bother me on Monday but my mood shifts and by Thursday the emotional shrapnel starts flying for no reason?
Example: When I was 17 and hanging with some male friends, they told me I was just one of the guys. I was flattered to be seen as more than my gender and some body parts to sexualize.
The other day, Kenny told me I’m just one of the guys and it kinda stung.
Another example: My friend Jason (RIP, dude) used to call me emasculator of men. I found it funny and not far from the truth when men did things worthy of being emasculated.
Kenny calls me a man hater because I have no problem declaring the belching and farting and sexism most men display asshole male traits. And it makes my two and a half feelings hurt a bit.

WTF is wrong with me? How can I take a simple statement and assume someone is insulting me or complaining about me? What makes me so apathetic or amused one day yet so defensive and fragile the next?
The only thing I can come up with is the yearly fall from grace. The change of the seasons that serve as prelude to the seasonal depression.
I had a good run of stability and thinking correctly.
Now it’s abandoning me all over again.
I’m hanging off the cliff, digging my fingernails into cling to the rock and not fall…
But someone is standing there, crushing each finger under their boot until I can no longer grasp and go flailing into the abyss that is mental illness.
My own mind is my worst enemy.

The high price of high functionality

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , on August 24, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

I was lethargic pretty much all day. It was 93 and even with air and fans, we were marinating in sweat and the humidity made it hard to breathe.
I did get a bit functional before it got so warm and that was good.
Then WHAM. My mood slid downward and I could barely keep my eyes open, but I slept last night so it was wtf.
But I know what it is.
Five days of functioning highly has left me mentally overdrawn. People fail to understand that while yes, mentally ill people can function highly at times…It takes one hell of a toll. You hit the wall and feel drained and emotionally bankrupt.
I can feel myself straining to maintain this high level of functioning and it feels like a repeat of last summer. I drove myself hard right into the ground and slowly started slipping, becoming less functional, more down, and processing stress poorly. (Emotional shrapnel was flying.)
This scares me. I try to roll with the high functioning cycles but I think I am pushing myself way too hard. But it’s what’s expected of me. No rest for the wicked or mentally wonky.
The time is coming where I am going to have to put my foot down and make my own well being take precedence. Many will not like it, but that’s their problem.
I hate it. It turns me into this fragile psyche weakling. I am not anything like that when at my best. Unfortunately, I spend more time at my worst than at my best. I don’t think the shrink has a clue that as much as my medi go round and cycling frustrate her, this is my life, every single damned day. I’m tapped out, frustrated, stressed out, and pissed off that it has to be this way.

O, well, Tomorrow is a new day, let’s see what the wheel of moodmisfortune has to bring me.