The Dark Side Of The Brain

Well, I had my meatloaf and went back to bed around 3:30 a.m. And tossed and turned until almost five. My brain was in full torture mode. Having read an article about Cobie Smulders (Robin, How I Met Your Mother) still working on season through after having been diagnosed with cancer on both ovaries…
I suddenly realize what a loser I am.
Yeah, I know, the depression lies. It lies a lot and it deserves an Oscar.
But after an hour of it pounding at my brain, keeping me awake, leading me down a very dark path of “why am I bothering, I am never going to get well and contribute to society” thoughts. You know where that takes you.
Knives. Pill Bottles. Staircases. Anything that might just make sure you NEVER have to be lied to again by the dark side of your own brain.

I eventually slept but as predicted, not long before the alarm went off. I woke to shark week cramps and a pounding headache. Take away two sporks off the bat.
My kid proved to be obstinate again, one more down.
Nine sporks and not even 8 a.m.

I could deduct sporks for the two hours of “kill yourself” thinking but I am cutting myself some slack. No one else will, ffs.

Already R is texting. “Come by if you get a chance.” “I’ve got something you gotta see.” “You won’t believe your eyes.” (How much you wanna bet his super daughter the psychologist went in and cleaned and arranged the shop thus showing what an incompetent twonk I am?)
Grrr. I have cramps and I am pissy and feeling a little stabby, truth be told. Back off.
What I responded with was, “I will bring you meatloaf sandwiches later.”
And he keeps texting, as if that is going to make me move faster.
If men had periods and cramps, I’m betting the attitude would be much more empathetic.
Or I’m just a fucking wuss, I don’t know. My self esteem is in the gutter. And I don’t know if it’s the dark side of the brain, hormones, depression, or simple disgust with myself because I know IF I could ever get stabilized I actually could make a contribution.

I have watched the Def Leppard movie “Hysteria” repeatedly and again…One armed drummer. I mean, one arm, plays drums, and I am bitching and moaning?
But he did get a special drum set up to accommodate him so he could keep doing what he’s good at and loves.
If I could find a job to be done from home with minimal petri dish contact and a loose schedule that doesn’t require constant stability…I might excel, as well.
No one will accommodate mental illness. You’re either functional or you’re a drain on society.
Yet if concessions were made and assistance given to help us find work that our illnesses do not hinder, we wouldn’t be, would we?
We’re told our brains don’t work like others. We need meds, therapy, coping skills.
Yet we are expected to perform as if nothing is wrong with us.
I don’t even know what the fuck that is.
I just know the shelf life on my desire to keep fighting is nearing. I’ve been doing all the *right* things for 20 years now and nothing ever changes as far as the bipolar and anxiety go. I kept waiting to have a kid “until I get better.”
Age 36 came and after being told, you can’t have kids, I got one.
And things got worse mentally.
I can’t seem to win no matter how hard I fight. And it’s not even about winning, it’d just be nice to stabilize enough so that I can support my child and never ever again have to convince anyone how disabling mental illness really is. Because unless you live it,you don’t fucking know.
And it does not help, at all, to have all these sunshine spewing “I beat mental illness with positive thought” types thinking their six months of depression and prozac give them the right to compare with those of us who have struggled for years and taken all the side effect ridden meds.

Hmmm…I guess I am in pissy little bitch mode today.

The barking neighbor dogs aren’t helping. I love animals, but when a dog barks constantly for 15 solid minutes and it’s ten feet from the window I’m next to…Muzzle. Please. Or buy me noise canceling headphones.
And one more reason for the dark side of the brain to take me down that black path. I am too weak to even handle the noise of daily life.
I hate when hormones make the mental stuff worse. It’s like being in a prison. Parole is four days away but until then…You have nothing to do but beat your head against the cell wall and try not to listen to the distortions amped up in your head.

I do not like being horrormonal.
I do not like the lies depression tells.
But then I wonder, are they rally lies or just cold hard facts? Maybe if can’t work, I should just do the world a favor and die.
I’m not quite ready to give up on myself yet.
I hope the world, and powers that be, won’t give up on me, either.
I am determined.

And I have a kitten climbing my leg trying to get onto the laptop. I feel like a cat wrestler.
Least I could make money if I wrestled gators.

9 a.m. and I’ve used four of 12.
Winner winner, salmonella infested chicken dinner.

3 Responses to “The Dark Side Of The Brain”

  1. I am sorry you are dealing with such darkness, my friend. You always tell me to not believe the lies, and though you said it in your post, I think a little reassurance is needed. The kind that you give others.

    Your reality is YOUR reality, regardless that Rick Allen drums with one arm and plays everything else with his feet. Not to sound insensitive, but that is HIS reality, not yours. What we each deal with is our here-and-now reality and no one can dare stand and say “but you have all your limbs”. Or “at least you’re healthy”. Not even your brain. Please know that you are validated and supported. You and I both know how real this is, and that we’re not crazy.

    And yes, men should be more sympathetic, understanding, and supportive with the effects of the bodily functions of what women endure.

    • Thanks for the much needed reminder and support. The lies from scumbag brain have a way of wearing you down at your most vulnerable and it’s easy for faith to waver. Appreciate the kindness.

      On Tue, Apr 28, 2015 at 12:59 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:


  2. I feel this post in my bones. Today I crossed the street without looking. Eyes closed. In the middle of a thunderstorm. It’s tiresome. I see so many people doing great things. People similar to me. People with their own mental demons and then there is me. And the mind just vomits pus. *hugs* If it means anything, I’m glad I know you through here. And thank you for sharing.

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