Lost Cause

My morning started with a dead kitten. Alchemy got sick last night and I figured he had a cold like the others have had. This morning…He was dead. To say I feel like shit is an understatement. THREE kittens in six weeks, plus finding the warm corpse of a random cat. Is the universe trying to tell me something? That I’m some sort of curse on catkind? Never mind the fact Willow is as old as my kid and she’s fine. Nope. Brain is stuck in its endless loop of failures and losses. I am sad and yet I can’t cry because I am so fucking numb. That doctor is incorrect, I was nowhere near this bad three months ago, at least I could feel SOMETHING. Now even my anger, the very fuel that drives me, is wrapped in damp gauze.

Part two of the morning…Take Spook to the doctor. Well, nurse practitioner, anyway. She’s yapping a mile a minute, happy as a clam, and I’m thinking, cripes they’re gonna accuse me of Munchausen by proxy even though hospitals creep me out and attention is not my favorite…Instead, three nurses went in and out, declaring my kid’s right ear filled with pus. And I wilted, because she complained Saturday and I…She didn’t say anything after that…And she was eating, playing, laughing, being her normal self…I got this image of all them coming in because no one could believe what kind of bad mother would let her kid’s ear get so infected and they’re gonna called protective services and…

It’s not pessimism or being silly. Catastrophe brain is part of the bipolar cycles. I’m in that place where everything is sticking to me, scorching, burning an imprint no amount of soaking and scrubbing will remove.When I reach the dark place, this is part and parcel. Logically, I know, animals die. I know I did take my kid to the doctor, get her meds, I did the right thing. I am not a bad person, I am not the kiss of death… What I know and what my brain’s telling me to believe at this juncture in time aren’t even distant relatives.


Quite honestly, I wouldn’t care if a bus hit me right now. I am fed up living in a world where you can’t even say when things are bad without it being some sort of disorder or cry for attention or sympathy. Sure, there’s lots of beauty in life. Sure, a positive attitude can help. But when bad thing after bad thing happens, with little good to balance it out, and your brain is your own worst enemy…

I won’t be spewing sunshine. The harder I fight the way I feel the worse it gets. Living in a world where I feel pressured to bottle up how I feel and speak only of positive things when so few of them happen. I have plenty to be grateful for. I have plenty to mourn and be pissed off about, too. Pardon me if the good stuff I relish yet the bad stuff I must purge.

The situation with the doctor, my disability, the way my kid is driving me to a rubber room with all the incessant yapping because mommy’s gone off her nut and can’t handle noise…It’s worn me to a frazzle. And the doctor…I don’t think he gets it or even wants to. I had such hopes for him because I felt he listened to me that first appointment. After the Latarda debacle and him basically treating me like I made every side effect up…I don’t have much hope. Or many options. I can’t afford to drive far away to a shrink and most of them won’t take my insurance anyway. This is all I’ve got. I’m not saying he isn’t trying to treat me, I am a difficult med resistant case. I just feel so much apathy from him, toward the side effects, toward my desire not to have them. Like by not wanting meds that give me ten problems to fix on is somehow unreasonable. But I’m the one with mental issues, I will never have a valid point. So it seems, even though after the Nardil incident and all that shitty doctors after, I became one hell of a self advocate.

I’m out of energy. My will is…tapped out. It could change tomorrow. Though it’s been this numb defeat for so long now, I’m starting to forget there’s any other way to feel. This has always been the point where I get so frustrated that the doctors won’t listen or take me seriously and they’re telling me all I’m feeling is anxiety and not from the meds…It’s like, what if something else is wrong and the med side effects mask it? A couple of times I went off all my meds (except Xanax) just to start over and see which med caused what as I restarted them. It’s not advisable, blah blah blah but I also haven’t done it in years. I have tried to be the good girl, to actively participate in my treatment. Effort gets me nowhere. I’m not done trying just yet but any more setbacks and…I don’t know. I know I am strong, I am a tough badass bitch, but the bipolar depressions take over and I lose who I am to the darkness. It makes me weak, fragile, scared…Things that I normally am not.

One foot in  front of the other is all I can do. I’m putting so much pressure on myself. Yet the fact even R sees me as unstable and disagreeable…Something is wrong. Side effects, med changes, anxiety and stress…I’m a fucking trainwreck. Rather than be supportive, the people around me just abandon ship, criticize me, and make it worse then wonder why I am such a loner. It’s a mystery. Idgets.

I think about all these super competitive types who are “challenge accepted.”

I’d like to see them take on their own mind and try to win that battle. It’s a challenge that can neither be won nor lost. Just survived.

14 Responses to “Lost Cause”

  1. Morgue, i really, really can’t think of anything to say except I’m really sorry & in here for you 😦

  2. sexyachymoody Says:

    Oh I’m so sorry you’ve had to endure so much lately! 😦

    • I appreciate the support, it is much needed. I think the worst of it all is the loss of my kitties…I’m pathologically in love with every cat I see, losing them is grueling.

      • sexyachymoody Says:

        I know how you feel! I’m the same way. They’re lucky to have someone who cares so much. Soft hugs.

  3. “I have tried to be the good girl, to actively participate in my treatment. Effort gets me nowhere.” Ahhh, how often do I feel like this. Then my gf “yells” at me for not having gone for so long. And the copay was $45 so I was like, “kick rocks”. Then I turn to the 100 proof bottle bc that seems to be the only relief I can get. The only glimmer of momentary sunshine I get to experience.

    I am so sorry things are so dark for you right now. I know it sucks monkey nuts. It really does. Nothing we say is going to take that away but we can stand by you and cheer you on and kick you in the tailfeather to go a little farther. Can’t we? Maybe I should just stick to sending you songs 🙂

    • I remember my hundred proof Rumple Minz days. Then I moved onto vodka, whiskey, anything that would get me through the dark days back when I couldn’t afford the doctors or meds. Of course, that was wrong yet none of them were offering me sample meds and cost cutter copays… They have a point that alcohol doesn’t cure depression, but man oh man, if their anti anxiety drugs worked that well…I’d never care if I drank again. Being a good girl sucks sometimes. Booooring. I’d taken a thousand hangovers before I’d agree to Latarda again. Their cures are as bad as anything else. Songs are good. Tailfeathers are just itchy in this heat.

      On Tue, Jun 9, 2015 at 1:36 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:


      • Yes, I have to get away from the drinking for sure. Totally defeats the meds and escaping isn’t going to solve anything.

        We like songs.

      • I think what makes it worse for me is having to feel guilty about it when I do “allow” myself to indulge. If I am going to be castigated, I may as well earn the numbness more often. Kind of a vicious circle for me and I don’t think anyone should have to feel that guilty for drinking a few times a month. Right or wrong, tough love makes me worse, not better.

      • I’ve been doing a lot of reading on my type in the Enneagram and tough love often comes off to me as criticism. Which I am highly sensitive to because the superego/self-critic is strongest in my type. If I’m constantly battling my superego, imagine how I feel when people around me (sound like they) are doing the same. Even though they may not be.

  4. In those moments where you feel like you’re being swallowed, that’s when you’ve got to fight it. I know that’s the last thing that you want to do when you’ve hit bottom, but if you don’t fight, it swallows you. I’m not sure what I can do to help, but I will pray for you that things get better, especially with the doctor situation.

  5. I have to ask this. Have you tried going off the Xanax? I went to the emergency with terrible anxiety and I was taking Xanax. It was causing the anxiety and it is a side-effect. I take Klonopin now and I am fine. Just a possible cause.

  6. I love you. That’s all fried brains can put together. Oh, and don’t eat friend brains. Love you like black eyeliner on a Billie Joe Armstrong

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