Random Mental Health Musings

washing machine disorder

I am…for all intents and purposes, a washing machine with a perpetually imbalanced load of laundry. You can shift the weight around, remove some things, but the machine remains imbalanced and noisy and vibrates and causes everything else to vibrate. I keep thinking (stupid logic) if I could just slide a block of wood or something under myself it’d balance things out.
In mental health, it’s simply not that easy or logical.
It’s a neverending battle.
If the masses were to view mental illness as little more than a perpetually imbalanced load of laundry, perhaps the stigma would lessen. No one tosses their washer out for being imbalanced. So why are imbalanced people treated as disposable?

If you think about it…
therapy is a lot like scooping litter boxes.
You can scoop it out, make it tidy…But inevitably, the mind will become filled with crap and need scooped again. And again. And again….

Soul searching…

I have put a lot, I mean, a LOT of thought into my own conditions.
Am I just lazy? Paralyzed by fear? Histrionic?
Propaganda makes me think it’s possible that I am a loser that way.
Yet I think about all the things that mean something yet in my cycles of illness I go completely out of character and lose track of things…
If you knew me and my love of cats…Then found out that I was so far down the mental abyss I didn’t even replace the flowers on their graves after the resident heathens stole them..so now I don’t even remember where my beloved departed kitties are buried…
It makes me so upset.
My dad and stepmonster, my sister, they all have nice little markers and flowers for their departed pets. Memorials for life.
I love my cats as much as I love my kid and yet…I can’t even keep up with something that means so much to me.
That doesn’t sound like a bad personality or slacking off.
It sounds like mental illness to me.

It makes me so angry and defeated to look around myself..And see those I considered perpetual burn outs actually surpassing me with jobs and such.
I’m smart, I am creative, I have skills…So why does the stability to do a job well enough to maintain elude me? I’d rather work sixty hours a week than rely on disability money.
It does not help when I go to WalMart and see this guy in a wheelchair working a register even though it’s obvious he has…mental challenges as well.
I feel so useless. Like maybe I deserve to be weeded out by death. I’m not productive, I am just running on a hamster wheel. Effort may be admirable but it doesn’t add up to anything.
Earlier it hit me…I will by fifty five when my kid graduates high school.
It seems so….old.
But 42 is considered old and I don’t feel my age so…
Still…I keep thinking, just gotta hold on for 13 more years until she’s legally an adult then…I can wave the white flag.
Not a mental space I like occupying. We never stop needing our moms, or at least wanting to need them in spite of them being evil. I’d love to see grandkids and such. But…maybe that escape hatch, ie, surviving til she’s 18, is what gets me through. By then I could be cured.
Ha ha ha ha. I love making jokes like that. It’s so asinine it’s funny.
Still I could be in a far better place mentally…Anything is possible.


They give me a stimulant to make me able to focus.
And it actually works wonders.
Yet with my anxiety, a stimulant should be the last thing I’d respond to. If anything, the anxiety has lessened, wtf.
The human brain is a mystery.
And my opinion of doctors remains negative because if this was what I needed the last 9 years to remain sane and functional and they denied me that…
They deserve to be sued, it’s negligence.

Saw a show…
This head of a company got hacked and his medical records became public. The company wanted to fire him upon learning he was bipolar. He tried to defend himself, assuring them he took meds, it was under control, and yet…
This is why most people keep mental conditions a secret. It’s a stigma that needs to go.
I put mine out there and maybe I shouldn’t but it seems less hurtful to get in front of my mental issues rather than secret them away and wait for someone to expose it. I have nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of.
And the fact the world is so ignorant of mental illness and the facts as opposed to propaganda…It’s sickening. We are intelligent as a whole. We create technology, we invent procedures to keep people alive, we land on the moon…
Yet we cannot break the stigma of mental illness and educate others.

The Focalin has slowed my mind and it’s a relief.
It’s also deviation and I am not sure what to do with this new state. Like my mind is moving so slow and logically, I am lost. This is not my norm. How do I not freak out?

I was asked why I don’t try to get paid for blogging about mental health.
Apparently my writing simply isn’t that interesting. I have a few readers, a couple will comment or interact, but for the most part…I’m just in the corner at the dance, drinking punch, wishing I could be part of the fun. It’s okay because I am uncomfortable with a bunch of eyes on me.
I suppose if I had an exciting life full of drugs, sexual debauchery, partying…I might have a very popular blog.
I can only be who I am.
And that apparently is someone too boring to be bothered reading, let alone getting paid to write.
I am surprisingly okay with this. I get enough positive input to motivate me to keep writing. I don’t need the spotlight. This blog has served its purpose far beyond my expectations. Just knowing my words resonate with a few people…Honestly it’s a great feeling.

In prep for my appt with the new shrink I was researching different meds (I like to be prepared for any suggestion they may throw at me because I have a huge problem with side effects)…There are certain psych meds that will give a false positive on a drug test.
I really did not know this. I know a cold medicine/cough med gave me a positive drug test. Didn’t realize my psych meds could do the same.
Not that it’s an issue, I disclose all my meds up front. Having nearly died from an MAOI interaction with cheese…I don’t temp the fates.
Still…How much would it suck to miss a job opportunity because an anti depressant made you test positive for illegal drugs.

Convicted serial killers have fans.
I can’t even find a decent guy to take me on a date.
Okay, I suck at putting myself out there but I did try recently and it…went horribly awry. Nice guys seem to be like unicorns in this town. Fictional.
But if masses can worship serial killers…What the fuck is so wrong with me?
Of course, I am just arrogant enough to remind myself that it takes little intelligence and a very weak personality to follow the herd or be a servant to a false deity.
I’m missing out on very little.

It just hit me…
I am my cat, Willow.
The Donor used to mock her for being gender ambiguous then she wanted to play with the broom while he swept so he whacked her about.
Turned her into a seriously scarred nasty hissy cat.
YET when she had kittens last year…She was the most wonderful mother.
She even took care of Nightshade’s surviving kitten when Shady lost interest.
Guess it’s possible to be a little psycho yet still be a good mom.

3 Responses to “Random Mental Health Musings”

  1. Seems to me that all good mothers think they’re bad mothers.

    • Odd. Mine calls me a fucking bitch and considers herself to be an excellent mother. She can’t figure out why I don’t want to spend more time with her. It is a mystery 😉

      On Wed, Apr 8, 2015 at 3:08 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: