Random Mental Spewage

Yes, I am feeling random. Translation: My mind is conflagration of swirling vortex thoughts, basically the mental equivalent of burgoo.( Just some midwest gross thing where they toss in everything including mystery meat and the DNA of the 30 people who cooked it. Maybe the soul of an infant or nun, as well.)
Well, that is my brain at the moment. Shards and splinters and non sense and an influx of other bullshit that will probably escape and flee before I can even get this typed out.

First on the agenda…
Reading other blogs has been a major step for me. I don’t mean to sound like a bitch but my mental state has been so precarious for so long, I felt like I wasn’t strong enough to read about what others are going through. Like if someone was in a good space, I’d crumble for not being there myself. Or they’d praise a med combo that failed me and I’d feel like a bigger loser.
In some ways, it’s proven beneficial inasmuch as I don’t feel so alone.
In other ways, it’s given me fuel for my own cause where the one size fits all thing simply doesn’t fit me.
For example:
Don’t believe the lies depression tells you. Your judgment is impaired when you are depressed. (And when manic, which means I basically live in a perpetual state of not being able to make a good judgment call.)
That is true.
The part that does not ring true for me is: Lean on family and friends. MOST will understand and be there for you.
I tell my so called best friend I am struggling with the mental stuff. He says, “Hmm…” Then resumes talking about himself.
I tell my mom I am struggling, she berates me with, “You have a daughter to think of, you need to snap out of it and think of her first.”
I talk to my sister, who was diagnosed bipolar in her teens, and she says, “Hey, it’s just life. I drink.”
I talk to my dad, he says, “Suck it up, life is hard.”
A former friend, in typical passive aggressive manner, outsourced for her new friend to tell me that I somehow brainwashed her into thinking she has mentally ill when she isn’t. Because when you meet someone in a depression chat room, it’s totally your fault they think they are mentally ill.
I reached out to Mrs R because she is doing the menopause thing and takes anti depressants. She said, “Well, as long as I take the pills, I feel pretty good so I don’t know why you’re having a hard time.”
THIS is my support system.
THESE people make me want to drink bleach with an arsenic chaser.
Sure, they love me in their own way.
They also make me feel like I am some sort of mutant loser and it does not help, at all.
So much like the crappy shrink who listened to me prattle about how non supportive my family is, he advised me to lean on them. ARE YOU FUCKING DEAF?
Every counselor I had who met my mother told me she’s toxic and I should avoid her.
So while many people may have a valid support system…
I do not. And it sucks. And every time I reach out to someone claiming to have mental issues, I end up regretting forgetting my misanthropy.
So that leaves me taking care of me.
But reading other people’s struggles…Makes it suck a little less. I’m not special in the mental illness thing, at least. In fact, I think shrinks should have to read the mass of mental health blogs out there as education. Nothing paints an accurate picture better than those who live it talking about it.

Moving on…
I am still blocked. I want to write. I feel alive when I am writing.
I need a muse. I need just something to nudge the block aside. I will be so much better if I am writing. Well, it’s not a cure, but it does allow you to go elsewhere for spurts of time and that’s therapeutic. I NEED it desperately and yet it eludes me, mocks me, and makes me feel parched. I am walking in scorching hot sun in the desert and I need water and writing is my water and yet…
I have nothing, not even a mirage to fool myself with.

Shallow people.
Watching Californication has given me great insight into everything that is wrong with the world, everything that prohibits me from ever fitting into that world.
For every decent person, there are a hundred hedonistic spoiled brats who think only of themselves and what life seems to owe them.
It makes me want to throw up, and that’s not a dramatization.
I mean, I kind of envy these people for living life to the fullest and not being, well, ya know, mental.
At the same time, they’re just filling in the gaping holes in their life with booze, drugs, sex, money.
So are they really any better off than I am?
They choose to be blotto and go off the rails.
Not once did I ever ask to be bipolar.
It’s sickening to realize just how shallow the world is and how vapid a large percentage of people can be.
Life moves so fast and no one has time to take a beat and think and ya know, be a kind human being.

I guess I seem negative. It’s pretty much all I’ve ever gotten from others. Which is not to say I am a great person. I’m definitely fucked up and have irritating traits. But at least I am aware of it and TRY to do better. Everyone around me just stays the same, they never change, never grow. It’s stagnating and stifling.
Of course, that makes me seem judgmental and unaccepting.
Yet if others do the same to me, it’s perfectly fine.
I have no use for this vapidity.
I will not do the “when in Rome” thing. My soul is all I have left and I will not compromise it. For better or worse, I feel things deeply and I am not sorry.

Yes, people assume I am up and getting my kid to school and thus I must be high functioning. They don’t see the ten times a day when I start to falter and crumble. I have a very vivacious obnoxious kid. She never stops talking. She has no concept of indoor voice. She is defiant, she screams at me. Most people can handle her in small increments. I deal with her every day for hours and hours. With an anxiety condition…
I am surviving. Not coping. Because every day I am ready to crumble into bed by 8 pm because I have hit my wall.
And she is always cheerful and full of zest for life and forever asking why I am sad…Like that isn’t a soul crushing experience on a daily basis. I fake the smiles and cheers but this kid even follows me to the bathroom so I really don’t have a chance to paste on the mask.
That’s stressful, too.
Coping. I am barely scraping by.
Yet when the mind frame is right…It’s barely a blip on the radar, just so much background noise.
When your stable space lasts three months, it means you’re spending nine months of the year in this tenuous spot where you’re going through the motions yet falling apart and no one around you notices or cares.

It’s all so much garbage in, garbage out.

I think the spewage has stopped. That or my kid’s incessant chatter has rendered me unable to think clearly.
It’s going to be another long grueling day.
Aren’t they all.
Manic or depressed, you’re never quite in your right mind, your judgment is questionable, and your ability to flourish is either inhibited or off the charts.
This is hell.
And I wish none of us had to be here.


6 Responses to “Random Mental Spewage”

  1. Victoria A Says:

    how do you write exactly what I am thinking? I mean that as honestly as I can ever intend that to be. My thoughts make sense only for the simple fact that I know at least one person on this earth feels the way feel in same pattern. I feel like the beat that we go to is so similar I might be able to look at you and see myself. You words are not confusing. I can follow how you think. The thing is it all makes sense to me. And what’s so crazy or maybe I shouldn’t use that phrasing,,,,,what’s so ironic, better, is that I understand what your detailing in each blog you post. The thoughts, the wanting to crumble, being so high that you step on others unintentionally, and most of all it feels like there a hurricane of shit and emotions constantly in full swing right between your ears, and in back of eyes. I really do think that you should be proud of what you write. I tell my girlfriend, “please read her blog, if you do, you can see with actual words, how I think too.” she read it, shes read a few…I thought if she did she could get why so idk how so it…up and down and all of the place and im just in my head. she said “I don’t get it. I don’t get how she writes. It doesn’t make sense.” And all I could think is that if you don’t get her you will never get me. it scares me to think that I cause myself this pain because I don’t feel like anyone really gets it from friends to family, heck even my dogs, doctors, lovers, no one understands. and I can feel so low. And as fucked up as is for me…. i feel good because if you didn’t have this shitty as way of feeling, if your will, so turbulent, then I would truly feel so alone. I don’t know how to be more supportive for you and everything you go through than telling you “Sister you’ll never be alone, cuz you have one friend, take it or leave it, that really understands you, and I look forward to all your blogs!”

  2. I’ve been accused of rambling and not staying on topic, and that’s just fact because I do have issues with focus. But not making sense? That’s thought from someone who has no desire to grasp mental illness. If she did want to, then she’d stop looking for logic and just read, and feel, the words.
    Like you do.
    Thanks for the support. You, too, have a friend.
    Perhaps only we who walk this particular road make sense to each other.

  3. Victoria A Says:

    I concur. (:)

    and surprisingly enough she has a degree in psychology. oh how the world turns.

    • Typical. Psychology and psychiatry really don’t mesh entirely. Shrinks think medicine cures all, psychologists think talking and behavior modification cure all. My friend’s daughter has a Master’s in psychology and I’ve said many times, with her hot temper, lack of empathy, and “suck it up” attitude, if I was a patient, I’d kill myself to get away from her. Not to mention she’s a carbon copy of her borderline mother and has no clue she is. Comforting to know the people judging you a trainwreck are denial laden trainwrecks themselves. Being smart enough to get the degree doesn’t make your bedside manner great is the point, I guess. And since I have so many diagnoses and don’t fit neatly into the box…I present a challenge and most professionals are too bus or lazy to be bothered trying to work to figure it out. I can honestly say though, that just blogging and getting positive feedback have proven more therapeutic for me than the last ten years of counseling with the professionals. Empathy is great, but walking in a similar pair of toe pinching torturesome shoes…That’s therapy.

      On Sun, Mar 22, 2015 at 11:03 AM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:


  4. It all sounds horribly familiar to me :/

    A good post though – I like shaking the random stuff from my head sometimes too. And sometimes one writes one’s way towards clarity of thought somehow.

  5. Victoria A Says:

    personally I would rather stay away from the world of mental illness. as far as implying my two cents to assist someone else, behavior changes and meds just aren’t options that I find very viable. I think someone needs to be assisted in all aspects of their life’s in order to ever feel like their not sinking in their own mind. I also am getting a degree in psychology, and pre-law, and minoring in legal studies. I think I merely want to understand what people go through and hopefully when all is said and done I hope to impact minds by having people change laws. There is not enough people who are educated in places like work, school, and social settings, that are able to understand what someone with mental illness truly goes through. I would like to one day transcend the world that we feel we are not always apart of because we don’t fit the norms. Fu*k the norms there is no such thing and when people really understand that we will be like anyone else. So what if our mind is holding our feelings hostage. Just because it may doesn’t mean we should feel like being alone at home is our only sanctuary. If being outside around others causes anxiety then others should be more understanding and stop freaking starring. Jeez. Haha wishful thinking. Maybe but the only way I know to fight this to make others wake up and stop hating, from their lame self help, to the get over it mentality. Can’t we all just live and let live. (:)

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