Archive for September, 2014

Faking It To Make It

Posted in biolar disorder, mental health with tags , , , , , , on September 29, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

This weekend: total ass trash. I had a mini meltdown and got snarky over something irritating but minor with someone I would never want to hurt. Yet I did inflict pain and it makes me feel shitty, especially because compared to my past history of “blow ups” this was barely a blip on the radar.
I try to force it all down.
I am failing.
I mean, R gets to punch walls, my kid gets to have thrashing tantrums, Bex gets to stomp to her room and slam the door…Meanwhile, I am expected to keep it together, bottle up my anger and hurt and stress…Walk on eggshells because I am surrounded by timid people who think me having a meltdown is some affront against them.
It’s exhausting.
I never told anyone else I was stable or reliable or someone to count on. I am entering my downward spiral with more on my shoulders than ever before and now I don’t even feel entitled to mini meltdowns lest I hurt or offend others.
Perhaps I sound petty.
The meltdown helped. Because an hour or two later, I’d let it go. The point is to just purge it, get the poison out of your mind. The question is, how to do this without someone somehow making it about them and how you are mean to them, how you are too emotional, unreasonable blah blah blah.
I don’t have a clue. I am socially inept, always have been.

What I do have a clue about is my current cycle on the bipolar coaster. The cyclothymia is kicking up due to the seasonal affect starting up. My moods don’t hold for more than an hour or two. My interest is scattered, focus nil. I don’t want company.I want to be a robotic mom and I want to get lost in my tv shows. I can’t wait to batcave at night. I feel…toxic, and it’s like inflicting my current incarnation on others is contagious so I want to isolate.
The shrink would say to keep fighting it.
I’m to the point where my nerves are so edgy I can’t even enjoy music and my writing…I am forcing spurts here and there but it feels forced and thus it is crap.
I’m fighting, damn it.

More than fighting it these days…I am faking it to make it. Crumbling under expectations and pressures and stressors. I try to look at all the positive around me and still…I just feel defective and slide further down the rabbit hole.
Then I feel guilty for being unreliable and unstable.
I wrote a heartfelt post last night and saved it to draft because I don’t ever want to hurt anyone or seem petty.
I am contemplating this as a draft.
Because I am obviously circling the drain, making mountains out of mole hills, and putting stress on myself that is just that: me. Not others doing it (well aside from R.) Just me.
What I am is so very different from what I want to be.
I want to be strong and tough and stable and problem solve.

What I am, though, is somewhere between hanging off of cliff by my fingernails and falling down into the rabbit hole.

Every. Fucking. Autumn.
But the doctor tells me I’m not fighting it enough, it’s my personality, it’s outside stressors…
Those around me dismiss me as weird or somehow offending them with my moods and urge to self isolate.

It reminds me of a line from the Elvis song “Suspicious Minds.”
—–“I’m caught in a trap…I can’t walk out…”

My life is a spider’s web and every year at this time I get trapped in it.

Sometimes…I wish the spider would just eat me and be done with it already.
Other times, signs of life flicker and remind me I gotta hang on because it always passes.

It makes me wonder, though,how many people said that and went on to lose it and kill themselves. We all have a breaking point. That lip service where god doesn’t give you more than you can handle…is just that.
Platitudes.

There does come a point where you are handed too much to handle…And some people crack under the strain.

Guess the big question is…am I gonna be one of them?

Psychological Epidural

Posted in biolar disorder, mental health with tags , , , , on September 25, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

I have tried to come up with a way to describe the bad depressions yet always come up short. Then I got to thinking about my daughter’s birth. I had the epidural because I am petty and hold grudges and wanted her birth to be remembered without any of that negative stuff. So I wussed out and have zero regrets.
But I remember how the epidural not only killed the pain, it pretty much rendered your brain incapable of controlling your body. The doctor says push but not with your legs but you’re dead below the waist so you don’t know what you’re doing.
For those who’ve never had an epidural, think novacaine, like at the dentist’s office. Except it’s full body and especially in your brain.
YES. These are apt descriptions of depression.
You are telling yourself, “Get off your ass, go clean, go shower, do this, do that, suck it up…”
But your body simply won’t obey. Because you are disconnected and numbed to the point your extremities no longer obey the commands issued by your mind.
Then comes mental novacaine. There’s this tiny portion of your lizard brain telling you things aren’t that bad, you will feel better if you do this, you should get this done…
The larger part of your brain that has been hijacked by a virus called DEPRESSION stays on your home page. You are paralyzed mind body and soul. Immovable. Until the faulty program is removed, your system is simply not going to work properly.
And on the days where you do work properly mentally or physically, it is rarely both at the same time because the novacaine has spread and metastasized to the point where you might as well have no limbs.

it sounds dramatic. maybe to some it sounds like crap.
It is what I LIVE. And it is very real, very debilitating, and very hard on your self esteem and morale.
once you hit a point of numbness so extreme…Ceasing to exist seems to be a pretty good idea.
Unfortunately, your mind is so fucked up, you don’t even have the energy to plot your own demise.
And if you did, you’d fuck it up because your memory is impaired, your energy is nil, and your mind is a clusterfuck of cobwebs, lethargy, fear, misery, and a complete lack of focus.

So you tie a knot in the end of your frayed rope and hang on, knowing eventually it will lift. You hope.

That’s as close as I can get to describing depression to someone who’s never been there. They simplify it and trivialize it of course, but it’s their own ignorance.

Today…I am restless yet listless. The anxiety at least is tolerable. My mood keeps bobbleheading, up down side to side. I don’t know what I am. I can’t focus. I have no energy to do anything. I’m actually kind of paralyzed, unable to even decide if I want to read a book or if I even can because my mind is so hazy and unfocused.
I can feel myself being pulled toward the rabbit hole and soon, I will be yanked down inside of it. I fight it and fight it but…Novacaine brain aka depression fights dirtier and it takes hostages.

One day at a time.

Unfortunately, with cyclothmic bipolar, the mood swings that occur in one day make that one day seem like ten.

And by the time you’re too numb to notice any ups or downs…You’re drowning in the black abyss, telling your arms to flail and keep you above water…Only to have novacaine brain take charge and refuse you the strength or ability to fight for your own survival.

Of all the things I hate…I hate mental illness the most. It is a cruel thing to befall anyone.

Where is Buffalo Bull When You Need Him

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , , , on September 24, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

Silence Of The Lambs is one my favorite books and movies. Right now, I’d be okay with Jame Gumb/Buffalo Bill skinning me. Let him wear this itchy uncomfortable woman dress today.
It’s like every nerve ending is on fire, but instead of pain, I am itchy and twitchy and the paranoia is in the stratosphere. I am doing a wondermous job of faking it for my kid but the fact is, I am one step from taking some sharp instrument and raking it across my flesh so pain will distract from the maddening allergy itch. The bug crawling thing is ass trash, too, but that has come with my last few antidepressants, like they agitate my histamine issue. Of course, the doctor denies the meds have anything to do with it. Whatever. Point is, in spite of 20mg loratadine I am climbing the fucking walls.
One doctor said it was stress epidermia or some shit, where I internalize my anxiety and it results in hives. Makes sense because my mom and her mom both had anxiety so bad they’d have red streaks running down their arms from clawing their own skin. IT SUCKS. It is enough to make one want a crazed serial killer to peel the skin off their bones to escape. I am sure Bex would peel my skin off, she is very helpful, but she’d keep me alive ‘cos she is a bit of a sadist. Buffalo Bill would rub the lotion in the skin then put me out of my misery.
Warped, aren’t I?

It’s just irritating to have the mood under control yet every sound and movement is setting off the anxiety receptors to the point I want my skin off of me because it won’t stop driving me insane with the itching.

I took a double dose of Xanax (which I rarely do, so this should indicate my desperation atm) so hopefully soon it will settle down. Sad when anti histamines won’t work but xanax will.

Though technically, I’ve never had actual xanax. I didn’t even know what people were on about when they talked about xanax bars. My crap ass insurance has only ever covered the generic which is allegedly the same. Who knows. I know Ativan and Klonopin are shit. And seroquel for anxiety is like putting a band aid on a gaping gushing chest wound. The doctor who did that to me should be sued for malpractice, I became an agoraphobic trainwreck because of her stupidity.

The sad truth is, short of being sedated by sleep, the only thing that truly works for massive anxiety like this is alcohol. Yes, I know, that’s bad, makes the depression worse, no solution, blah blah blah. Facts are facts. When it reaches fever pitch and I wanna claw off my own skin and am convinced something cataclysmic is about to happen without any cause to believe so…A trip to Mangoritavilla may be in order. Later perhaps. I am trying to tough it out.

Amazing how I went from fine to agitated as fuck to paranoid and anxious and itchy in the space of five hours. The cyling is starting up big time, where my mind frame switches minute to minute thus worsening the anxiety.

I thought watching Vampires Suck might be a distraction cos this movie is hysterical but alas, this is the anxiety beyond control.

Much as I am loathe to admit it, at these junctures, the REO Speedwagon song “Riding The Storm Out” comes to mind. Hate that song but how appropriate that title is for this shit. It is a storm and there is no early alert system. One minute your house is on the ground, the next minute you see a cow flying by and land in Kansas under a house wearing ruby red slippers.

Okay…This is better. The xanax is doing its thing, I am mellowing out. My ear is still itching and my mother drove it into the ground that it’s superstitious belief that someone is talking bad about you. That and an itchy nose means someone will call or visit. Not good for paranoia.
Thankfully, the volume on the anxiety is being turned down one notch at a time.

Normally, I’m all about the old Autograph song “Turn Up The Radio.”

Today, I wish the volume on my central nervous system would just be muted altogether.

Because Buffalo Bill is nowhere to be found and the potato peeler is kinda dull so skinning myself would just be like undercooked faces. Gross.
But Carlllll, that kills people.
Amazing how my sense of humor, twisted as it is, remains in tact through the worst of it. May be the only thing that’s kept me from going off the deep end.

Glass half full, glass half empty, there’s room for more wine

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , on September 24, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

Unfortunately, I have no wine.But I saw that graphic on line last week and it made me giggle. I wish I had wine, or something because today was absolute shit.
I overslept and had 20 mins to get me and my kid dressed, feed her, drive her to school.
Gas tank on E and it hits me, I forgot to set trash out and I will be fined if I let it pile up. Had to drive back across town staring at the gas gauge with mounting anxiety.
Returned to the shop where R and Kenny spent the first 80 mins trying to top each other’s Angry Birds score, which mean no access to the computer to do what I was there to do.
Agitation was immediate and immense.
Got lunch, got motivated, started to strip a TV…and the shop phone rings informing me my kid has a 100.1 temp so she is being sent home and can’t return til she’s been fever free for 24 hours.
More driving with the gas gauge taunting me because I asked R four times for gas money and he blew me off.
Bex agree to keep her so I could go finish what I had to do and the car HAD to have gas, period.
FOUR hours of people in and out, one of them a friend of R’s so while he did piddle soldering projects, mostly he talked to his friend and I sat watching cute animal videos on youtube with Kenny while my anger boiled up.
By 4,I was beyond fucking hostile and my anxiety was through the roof, that nagging part of my brain reminding me I’d been out of my safe zone far too long and needed to return to it before something cataclysmic happened (like my impending nervous breakdown.)
Finally got gas money and split.
Came home and stepmonster and ass trash brother were here. More noise and them talking at the same time.
My kid was acting out, being aggressive and hyper.
Further up the panic soared,and further down the mood went.\

I was ready to climb into a closet and cover my ears with my hands to block it all out.
Day. From. Hell.

I am calming down now. My mood is circling the drain. I need a brain reboot. Tomorrow has to be better. I have to have hope.

The fact I overslept…combined with the rising anxiety and severe mood crashes…I know what’s coming. I don’t like and I am fighting it, but there’s someone at the door.
It’s called Seasonal Affect Disorder and this is where, every single fucking year,it all goes to shit.

I need some anti itch spray,my nerves are so rattled I can’t stop breaking out in itchy hives. My stomach is in a knot.
The anger and irritation have passed, at least.

I really need a very big box of wine. With a straw. Mommy juice box.

Doesn’t solve anything but neither do the meds. About the most either days is mellow me out enough to survive and fight another day.

Small victories.

Now…GIVE ME MY JUICE BOX.

Meh Day

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

Sundays are always so mind numbingly boring for me. “Vegetation” day I call it. But I did the veggie thing yesterday so I felt obligated to fake energy and motivation today. Did all the housework but vacuuming. This includes folding four baskets of laundry.I really don’t know how anyone as broke as we are can have that many fucking clothes.

Bex slept most of the day, but she has trouble sleeping at night without coma drugs so I understand. I don’t abide, because in a depression, the comas become golden and giving in too often makes it harder to pull yourself out of the abyss. Been there, done that, burned the tshirt. But this is her thing, not mine, so I let her sleep.

Surprisingly, my kid and I had few issues other than her not picking up her messes. This ended as soon as Bex returned to the living room. Spook had an audience to perform for and immediately dove into pain in the ass mode. Not a shocker, been that way a long time. Sometimes, I think she hates me and wants to torture me. Other times, I think maybe she’s just become so co dependent on me she lashes out with bad behavior when she feels my attention is divide rather than focused solely on her.
I have NO idea.

Anxiety’s been iffy. I haven’t talked to my dad’s faction all weekend and while on one hand, this is blissful for me…It’s not the norm and my paranoid panic stricken mind wanders to all the horrid things that could have happened. (They could have been murdered, the cats could be eating their corpses right now and if I don’t make an effort to contact them…) But I tried several times yesterday and got nothing. My dad is hauling 7 days a week for harvest which means he’s gonna be tired and bigger prick than usual so I am really not in a hurry to talk to him. Last time I called because I was worried, he yelled at about how he’s just been working hard and he’s exhausted and what the hell do I want from him.
Yeah, paranoid as I may be, verbal evisceration is not my favorite, they will call when they aren’t busy or dead or whatever.

Around 3:30 my mood crashed into the abyss and there was no stressor. I was reading, and then I just felt very down and irate. Thing was, once I ate, the mood lifted the tiniest bit and the headache and nausea went away. It’s weird because I ate off and on all day,I wasn’t starving or even particularly hungry. Yet the food seemed to change everything. I have got to have some sort of hormonal or insulin imbalance. Of course, short of a knife protruding from my skull, I won’t do anything to figure it out. I loathe doctors. I fear doctors. I get panic attacks seeing the shrink and she’s like 90 miles away and on a tv screen.
No,there truly is no end to my neuroses.

Early batcave. Kid finally zonked. I am having hot and cold flashes.My mind is starting to slow down, though. I still feel edgy and anxious (the cable guy was repairing the neighbor’s cable line earlier and I went into sheer panic mode, thinking maybe my payment wasn’t recorded and they were gonna shut my net off.)
The more the temp cools, the earlier it gets dark, as the calendar days tick down…The worse my bucket of crazy gets.
Like I went to get a soda tonight and I chose the smaller store over the one I normally go to. Because it is smaller and not as busy and I am starting to feel uber vulnerable out in public. Like I have a target painted on me and everyone is packing a rifle.
Nuts? Yes.
Can I talk myself out of it?
Rarely.
Seasonal depression is coming, whether I like it or whether it makes my shrink have a bad day.

The best I can do is keep battling myself into a shower, putting on clothes I didn’t sleep in, and doing more than operating like a robot to care my kid.
But that’s how I feel. Automated. I’m doing what I was programmed to do.
Do I want my life to be this way?
Hell to the fucking no.
But it is what it is, and all I can do is play the hand I am dealt.
Not like I haven’t survived a hand of aces and eights many times before.
I just usually pray not to survive.
My mind can be a very dark place when the mental illness becomes sovereign.

Meh.

Edgy Wedgie

Posted in anxiety disorders, biolar disorder, mental health with tags , , , on September 20, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

I am teetering on the edge of anxiety, which is nearly reaching panic. Because I never know when my dad’s faction of the family is going to pop by unannounced and that sort of thing FREAKS ME THE FUCK OUT. I don’t like unexpected knocks on the door. Bad enough I can’t control the ringing phone. I don’t like feeling like I can’t put on my jammies and get comfy because they may be coming by.
While belonging to a family unit that cares seems to please Becca, this faction is toxic to my mental well being. And I’ve talked and talked to them about calling first for ten years now and they don’t listen or care.
I dread their visits 99% of the time. If they’d call first, it wouldn’t be that way.
But then they overstay (and with me that means twenty minutes, max) so I start getting edgy and grumpy.
It wasn’t so bad before the mood tides started turning. Now, visits are excrutiating. Thus I am edgy and it’s uncomfortable like a wedgie.

My kid has been satan today. Constant demands, absolute defiance, hyper, aggressive, even running Bex outside at one point she was being so obnoxious. I have a headache now like someone cracked me over the back of the head with a cast iron skillet and I know it’s just tension. I’m strung tightly like piano wire.

Tonight is the big yearly doings in this armpit town where people get out their old classic cars and cruise up and down the main drag. Big fucking deal. Much as I like old muscle cars and such, crowds are not my thing. Nor is noise. And it’s become bastardized by these teenagers and twenty somethings who somehow think their 2012 model is classic. Yeah, I don’t remember a 66 Mustang ever having neon undercarriage, thudding stereo, or spinners.
Ass trashers have to ruin everything.

Aside from being a jumpy paranoid trainwreck and my kid channeling satan, it’s been a fairly uneventful day. I made a kickass meatloaf for supper. And that’s about all I did today other than go get some milk.

I watched a documentary on Scientology and once again, I reiterate- are those people insane? Your son kills you by stabbing you 23 times due to being an unmedicated paranoid schizophrenic and the surviving members still cling to their beliefs in that fucking cult? Oh, I mean “religion”. I generally support your rights to have faith and believe but these “religions” that ban medical attention and medicines are beyond my realm of understanding. If you wanna believe in a deity,then think about it: the deity allowed people to evolve intellectually and develop skills and technology to treat illness, disease, and disorder.
The jackass who repeated, “Mental illness does not exist therefore there are no medications to treat it.”
That’s beyond having faith in an outlandish belief. That’s delusion and ignorance. Odd how they wouldn’t hesitate to get treated for cancer, those meds which practically kill you to save you are okay.
But psychiatric drugs are dangerous.
Hysterical.
I wouldn’t have survived the worst depressions without medication so whether you believe or not, I believe.I know the meds are flawed, there are side effects, and as the one shrink said, “We can make the disorders better with meds but we cannot make someone with these illnesses well.”

I can live with better, even if these morons call it “a bipolar personality” rather than accept it as a legitimate illness.

Maybe I’ll launch a new religion with a campaign against diabetics who just don’t try to positive think their insulin levels right. Church of the Delusional Ass Trasher.

Not even sillier than the giant alien clam god.

Mood Spikes

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , on September 19, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

Migraine subsided today, felt half ass functional albeit irritable with no discernible reason to be.
The bad thoughts that accompany an abrupt low cycle are returning. People are taking advantage of you…You’re giving way more than you get in return…
It does sound a little borderline.
Though I’ve read nothing about borderline personality traits emerging only as a precursor to depressions, which is when this line of thought begins to occur.

And the mood spikes…Wow. One minute, I am fine, the next I feel furious for no good reason because ten minutes later, it has passed and I feel like I have whiplash because I can’t explain it. The only facsimile is when I was pregnant and flooded with the nutsy kookoo hormones.

There are days I hate my life because it’s so up and down, there is no norm, no happy mediums. Yet a couple of months ago, I was doing very well. Surely personality isn’t that fleeting, especially without outside catalysts. If it is, then I am beyond redemption.
Which I refuse to believe. No matter what some doctor and their diagnostic manual say.

Mood crashed.

I’m like Icarus. When I am up, I fly close to the sun.
And inevitably get burned.
But, like a phoenix I rise out of the ashes that are myself.

This whole disorder is an epic bucket 0f fail.
People want to prove how far they are willing to go and how hardcore they are…screw the ice bucket challenge.
They should take the bipolar bucket challenge.