Zero To Shit In 3 Seconds Flat

I was doing okay yesterday. Even let my kid play with her devil friends and let them come inside. Doctored up a stray cat with an injured tail. I was doing FINE.

Then came evening. Dad stopped by and they took Spook out for ice cream. I mentioned that I wanted to get some sparklers and stuff to let off with Spook later on. Two hours later they called and said, Can she stay the night with us? We’ll just buy her some stuff to wear and we took her out for supper, and oh, we bought her $20 in fireworks to let off at our house.

ARE FUCKING SERIOUS?

Normally, I wouldn’t mind. I like alone time. And I probably wouldn’t have minded except I plainly told them I had a plan with my child and they ripped it out from under me. Of course, by then they’d already told her she was going home with them so asking me was perfunctory. I couldn’t say no and turn into the bad guy. So I said ok, yay, and tried to convince myself I could have a wonderful evening alone and get a good night’s sleep.

I fixed myself supper. Showered. And then got hit with such a dark wave of depression I retired to my bedroom at 7:30 with Forensic Files playing and so many fans running I got cold. Of course, the cats wanted nothing to do with me since I needed snuggle time. The phone rang twice, as soon as I started to get in a chill mental space. My dad telling me all the stuff they bought her that I can’t afford, then how much fun she was having. Made it worse.  So I pushed away the depression and had a Mangorita I’d stashed in the fridge. Two sips and it went back in the fridge.

For fuck’s sake, when you can’t even enjoy a drink, what’s left to enjoy in life? The depression has commandeered all and IT ALL STARTED WITH THE SINGLE 60 MG DOSE OF CYMBALTA INSTEAD OF THE SPLIT DOSE THAT HAD BEEN WORKING FOR ME. And ya know, I don’t even care if it’s placebo effect. This is my fucking life and I had a working system and now it’s shot to hell because the professionals know so goddamn much. Yes, I am pissed off. I am very pissed off. But talking to this shrink when his fundamental belief is anti depressant levels are the same no matter when you take them…So screwed.

And THEN…The town fireworks. I live two miles from where they set them off so I got hear, not see, but hear every single loud obnoxious pop. And every time, I jumped and my heart raced and I was filled with self loathing because damn it, I should ENJOY this kind of thing. OOh, pretty fireworks. But no, my central nervous system interprets loud noise as a threat and fight or flight kicks in. Forty five minutes of cringing and cowering in my darkened room, begging silently, MAKE IT STOP.

It did stop. And then my next door neighbors promptly started setting off the sheets of firecrackers that sound like an Uzi spraying bullets. Right outside my bedroom window.  Enter Xanax. More tossing, turning, heart racing. Finally…quiet around 11 pm. I slept. Woke at 12:30. 1:20. 2:35. 3:10. 4:45. 6 a.m. I don’t remember waking after that until 7 ish. Which by that point, I was still to tired to drag ass out of bed. I lolled until a little after 8 and got up. Stupid bladder.

I’m not in a dark place right now, but I did just take my meds and get that jolt. It will fade quickly. Last night just sucked. And OMG, the dreams, I had so many fucked up dreams. I was sixteen again, back in school, and I forgot my book for a test and then the school officials wanted me to see their psychiatrist and forebade me to seek meds from anyone else. There were other dreams that were even more fucked up. Not even good ones.

I can  no longer blame the dreams on Latuda or Trileptal. So why suddenly did they start hitting me when for months I barely remembered dreaming at all? And why is my sleep getting worse instead of better unless I drink alcohol? My kid wasn’t even here. They say 80% of sleep issues are for psychological reasons. That makes no sense to me. It’s not like I don’t want to sleep. The fact I have to go to my bedroom at 7 pm to get to sleep by 11 pm kinda says I am desperate for that sleep. My life is just a big bucket of what the fuck and the professionals aren’t helping. I need counseling, of course, that’s their answer to everything. I tried to explain the breach of trust from the last counselor and could they please help me find another place my insurance covers. No go. If you’re on government or state insurance, you are entitled to one option only. Tough if it traumatizes you further.

I have no idea when they will bring Spook back today. Which makes me nuts because it puts me in a holding pattern, unable to relax, and if I ask dad, he will just say, “Later today, when we’re done having fun with her.” I’m all for my kid having fun. Just…dear god, I struggle with this anxiety shit, would it kill them to show a little respect and deference and just give me a solid-ish point of return time? Kind of like calling before just showing up. Or a little heads up that you plan to abduct my kid all night so I can at least pack her some clothes and give her a kiss? Deviation is a trigger and it’s some OCD thing, I have a kid, I know shit happens, things change, it’s constantly in a flux. But this has been going on for over ten years, long before I had a kid. I used to dread weekends because I knew inevitably they would show up at the least opportune moment…I want to be different, I have tried to be different…But it seems like I’m the only one who has to adapt while everyone around me gets to remain an asshole.

I am becoming increasingly concerned about Spook and I can’t tell if it’s unwarranted neurosis or if I am so terrified my mental stuff is tainting her it’s become a self fulfilling prophecy or is she started to get the chemical imbalance or just being a manipulate kid. Three times this past week she’s gotten mad at me for saying no to something and starts yelling, “You ruin my life, I don’t even want to live life anymore!”

I can honestly say, she’s never heard me say this. I write everything and I make sure she’s not over my shoulder reading. So where is it coming from? Or is she just tugging on my heart strings so I let her strangle the cat with a bead necklace? I’m also worried that she’s just so bored with me cos I can’t afford to take her to do things even if my mental state cooperated. I can’t even take her to the park because I have to ration and justify every mile on the gas tank.

I became so worried that when she was at mom’s the other night and I saw A and J, her little friends I call the devil girls (the ones who spread that she had lice and we had bedbugs, et al) I stopped the car. Spook’s been lamenting how much she misses them so I approached them, not channeling satan, and asked if they’d just come over once in awhile to play with her cos she misses them. Those two stress me out like nothing else but I want my kid to be happy and I bit the bullet.

To top it all off for this weekend…We saw The Donor in traffic the other day. He was in his car and oblivious, of course, but I’d know that long albino blond hair anywhere. And I just get so irked that it’s been four years and he doesn’t even try to see her or contribute. Who does that? He claims to have a 187 IQ and because he’s held management positions and is so great an employee, he’s this fabulous person and I am this whack job. A whack job, on a limited income, with serious mental issues, who has still managed to raise a child for four years without any help from him. Everyone says take him to court. I wish it were that simple. I just keep hoping he’ll do the right thing. What kind of monster needs a court to tell them to support their kid?

But he’s done it to his two other kids (who also had whacko moms that were so mean to him) so it’s his damage, not ours. As for court…I am not ready to face off. He lies so much it’s just a trigger and he likes to twist my mental stuff to a point where I can’t tell up from down…He always said the moms were just after his money, and that’s just too much stupidity for me to handle until a court tells me I have to. Funny, huh. I expect him to do the right thing without a court telling him to but I avoid facing off with him unless a court tells me to. My hypocrite is showing. Except I didn’t need a fucking court to tell me take care of my child.

I am on a tear. It’s just been a sucky few days. Time to stuff it all into the red balloon and let the string go, let it all drift away. Yep. Twenty years of therapy and that’s what I came out of it with.

I should face the housework. Ugh. Now that the Cymbalta high is wearing off…I don’t want to do a damn thing. Maybe if I just give myself permission to do nothing…I will end up doing something.

This is one of those times where positive thinking is just spray painting a pile of dog poop gold and pretending it doesn’t stink. Not sleeping, evening mood crashes, neurosis to the point I can’t even interact with people on the computer because the panic is too bad…There is nothing good about any of it. Fuck the rainbow spewage.

 

 

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16 Responses to “Zero To Shit In 3 Seconds Flat”

  1. “And I probably wouldn’t have minded except I plainly told them I had a plan with my child and they ripped it out from under me…would it kill them to show a little respect and deference and just give me a solid-ish point of return time?” – I’ve been there with you in these situations many times (even today) and struggle with the same things as a visiting dad. It makes me more resentful (since I’ve been waiting for her to sign the papers going on 3 years now) and prods the anger beast out of his cage. Dealing with these things is unsettling. It’s unnerving. Know that You. Are. Not. Going. Crazy. I know I can’t give you a silver bullet or a stress reliever (God knows I would give you any slice of “peace” I have at any given minute, Niki) but I wish I could my dear friend. Thank you for writing these things down so that others (me included) can come forward to offer their support. You give many the courage to share their own shit-uations and a chance at peace/relief by doing so. You have my number gurfriend. X C

    • This hit home for me because he sent me “paperwork” three years ago (Do it yourself thing with some legal aide student’s help.) I consulted an attorney who told me they were absolutely NOT legal as there was no mention of a child being involved. I pitched them. And it’s not ill will, it’s just, how smug must you be to try to sneak past a judge that you have a child therefore support and visitation issues? I don’t trust the man. I purposely kept my numbers and address the same if he wanted to see his child. He’s just not a good dad.
      As for writing it all down…I think that was the whole point of this blog. I talked to so many people who either have a hard time putting things into words or they’re afraid of the stigma, I figured why not put it out there for others to relate to even if they can’t put it out there.
      I’ve been amazed by the support and positive responses, though it’s meant having to rethink my entire position on “people are evil.” 😉

  2. Ok enough is enough. Tell the doctor you greatly appreciate his expertise but you know what works best for your body and the single dose isn’t it. End of discussion! My Mom had epilepsy n they always wanted her to try new things but tegretol worked n kept her seizure free so she listened n said no thank you, just write the prescription lol. FYI Your dr is wrong. I take 300mg EffexorXR in am n 125 mg Pamelor (older antidepressant) at night. This is because each med causes side effects n my psychopharmacologist worked WITH me to figure out what worked best for ME. If these drugs were one size n dosage fits all… well they would be out of a job lol.
    And of course a man should support his kids but your donor doesn’t. There will be no long messy court battle. U go sign up for child support, they decide a reasonable amount n bam it comes right out of his paycheck into ur account. If it will help make ur life a little easier and hers a little happier, there aren’t enough reasons in the world not to. Plz don’t wait.

    • I intellectually under the term “psychopharmacologist” but if you wouldn’t mind…Explaining to me what that means in actuality? I’m in a rural area and we’re lucky to even get psychiatrists, so I’ve never known a psychopharmacologist. I know I ask my pharmacy and consult the inserts more than I trust any of my doctors.

      On Sun, Jul 5, 2015 at 11:50 AM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

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      • Its a subspecialty of psychiatry. A psychopharmacologist or neuropharmacologist deals directly with the meds. They know which meds work best for which symptoms, how they interact and how to minimize side effects. It’s funny because he’s about the only psychiatrist that I have met that I didn’t loathe lol. Most are so arrogant, distant and mistakenly think they’re God. “And how does that make u feel?” one idiot asked me. For therapy, I have found social workers n psychologists much more helpful.

      • Thanks for explaining. Honestly, my therapists have messed me up more than the doctors simply because I see them more often. I’d LOVE a happy medium amongst the psychiatrist, therapist, and psychopharmaclogist. Because of the insurance I have… I get the doctor who knows all but knows less than the pharmacist. Lucky me.

        On Sun, Jul 5, 2015 at 3:43 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

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      • How did therapists mess u up? Hopefully u can find someone else. The psychopharmacologist actually was $200 then $100 a week til I was stable which took about a month. Now I only go back if there’s a problem n get my meds from reg dr

      • I was with the same therapist for two and half years and I had this “she’s spewing too much sunshine for me.” But then she left and I went to another counselor- the same one my brother sees. And she, in all her three year experience, changed my diagnosis after two sessions, then told my family I missed an appointment so could they tell me to call her…Right or wrong…I felt betrayed. Mainly because I’d had the “am I borderline” discussion with the suinshine spewer two weeks before she left and I got transferred to the yoyo and sunshine spewer was quite insistent I was NOT bipolar… I mean, if someone who has talked to me for almost three years says I am NOT this, then the new one who sees me for two 40 minute sessions insists than I am that…AND betrays my confidentiality…How am I not right feeling betrayed?

        On Sun, Jul 5, 2015 at 3:50 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

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      • I think I’m missing something. It seems like she just left a message for u cause u missed appt. Why would u miss an appt n not call before n let them know? It’s kind of rude unless its an emergency. Why is that betrayal?

      • She canceled on me TWICE then when I didn’t call to reschedule ( because she canceled and I felt it her responsibility to reschedule when was available…)She relayed a message to my stepmother, through my half brother’s appointment with her, even though I made it clear I keep my family life separate from my mental healt treatmentLogical or not, I told her how I wanted it to be and rather than approach me personally, she sent a message involving my family…That IS a betrayal of client confidentiality.

        On Sun, Jul 5, 2015 at 4:48 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

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      • Ohhhhh that’s a different story. She cancelled n then didn’t reschedule. And yeah if u told her u wanted them kept out n she didn’t she sucks lol. U need a new therapist.

  3. Spook sounds a lot like me as a kid. I was extremely attached to my mom. Had to see her at all times. Hated when she wasn’t with me, but had enough fun alone where I didn’t miss her as much when she was gone. Said dramatic things like that when I didn’t get my way. Not always, but most of the time. Which isn’t to say that she will end up like me or you or anyone, but usually all this stuff has a reason. And a solution. Whether it works is another story. It could be “that’s just how she is” but it could also be her not properly being able to work through the fact that sometimes life throws a no at you. Most kids have issues with that anyways.

    The sad part is that if you go somewhere to see what’s up with Spook they’ll look at your history and go “EARLY MANIFESTATION” which sucks. No. It doesn’t have to be and it probably isn’t and the answer is probably some repetitive exercise and not anything more. You can’t win. The system is fucked and doctors don’t want to help. They just want money and obedience. You’re their dog. Perform tricks.

    • Ha, I remember a t-shirt I once saw that says :Bad Dog! Does Not Perform Tricks!

      As for Spook…She has no issue being apart from me if she has other entertainment. But when home together, my god, she’d lay on a pillow on my face and smother me. I am reluctant to call it anything but a fatherless hyperactive child who simply wants attention. At the same time, I am soo not gonna be my parents and neglect it with the denial that “an 11 year who wants to kill herself is just a phase.”

      It was always my biggest fear my kid would inherit the family crazy gene, but with it on my dad’s side and my mom’s side, as well as the donor having been in a psych word trying to slit his wrists…It’s something I need to be acutely aware of as a possibility. She, if she needs it, will get the help my parents never saw me worthy of getting.

      On Sun, Jul 5, 2015 at 12:28 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

      >

  4. Hi Morgue,
    Just a thought – even though your Cymbalta comes in a 60 mg capsule, why not empty half into some yummy food, saving it for later and split the single daily dose into 2? You already know that works better for you. Doc

    • Not sure how to make it so each half is the same amount. Count the little pellets? I just don’t want to get too low or high a dose and I definitely do NOT want that “pill stuck in throat” bitter thing. Not a bad idea if I can figure out how to make each half equal.

      • I think you could just eyeball it and be fine. You can also buy empty gelatin capsules and fill them each with approximately the same amount. If you want to be precise, you could weigh them on a digital scale.

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