Sleep Sludge

I cryptified at 8:30 last night. I was still awake at midnight. There was one point where I started to nod off…Then the spawn appeared in doorway and bam, I was wide awake and my heart began racing and it was pure panic and paranoia. She snores like a lumberjack so that wasn’t conducive to sleep. I’d taken my Xanax and hours later…Still nothing. I tossed and turned. Over and over. I couldn’t get comfortable. The more frustrated I got, the worse the sleeplessness got. Tick tock. Knowing I’d have to get up and do time in the dish. I needed sleep. I got hungry but I was so afraid of upsetting the delicate balance, like food and walking around would just keep me up longer…

By two thirty, I cracked. I split a Melatonin into 1.5 mg just to get my mind to stop spinning. I’d tried all the therapy tricks. Stop signs, red balloons, counting backwards in odds from 1000 ( I did that six times, my brain was ready to pulverize from all the numbers.) An hour later I was getting a little mellow but still awake.I think around 4 I drifted off. Only to wake at 5, 5:30. Then my kid decided at six a.m. it was time to get up and I told her to go back to sleep. She screamed at me.

Slept through two alarms. Finally forced myself up. My kid promptly began screaming at me again because I dared to tell her to brush her own hair and now she says I always make her do work, like she’s some sweatshop worker. Jebus. I found a couple of 30mg Cymbaltas leftover from last month and took 30 this morning. I will take the other with my afternoon dose of Focalin, see if that makes it any better. Again, placebo effect or not, the last few days have been absolute suckage because of this lump dose. I was eyeballing the 60 mg, trying to discern how to pull them apart with spilling their medicative powder and getting the dose messed up.

Meh, not at 8 a.m. I have pants on, I’m good. I think I am going to go talk to one of the pharmacists where I’ve been getting my meds for ten years. They cross me as being more in the know than my doctor. Than all of the doctors combined because it’s like they all just make up the rules to suit their own bias or what they’ve seen in fifty patients, as if adverse effects simply don’t happen. Except unless you’re seeing Dr Q and she’s seen it happen before and warns you not to take the medication like that. Grrr. Just like my new doc and the Latuda. He read off about six side effects from his trusty smart phone, all of them minor. Then I get the pharmacy insert and it lists suicidal thoughts, hormonal changes to the point it can cause lactation, oh and you’re supposed to take it with 350 calories for it to absorb properly. And when I approached him with that, he scoffed and said no, that’s not true. I mean, the manufacturer, who has every reason to not disclose this stuff, says it right in their literature and this doctor, who’s barely older than my kid, knows more than they do.

I’m so screwed.

Still, can’t hurt to talk to the pharmacist. See if their input is different or if they concur with the doctor.

I hate griping about my doctors because for the most part, they’ve been fairly pleasant, nice people. But I’m not there to make friends, I am there for help, and none of them can agree on anything and I’m the one who’s lost in that shuffle. Frustration and a little outrage are reasonable, after 20 years of this crap.

I don’t want to do the dish. At all. Lack of sleep makes me snappish. Bridges could be burned. Plus dealing with my mother and bringing my kid home to tell me how much better grandma is than me…The housework, the lawn…It’s snowballed once again and something tells me my sporks will be gone by the time I get done with the dish.

On the plus side…No friends in my head popped out to wield a chainsaw at me.

Oh, wait. THat’s on the bad side, ‘cos that would be entertaining as hell.


12 Responses to “Sleep Sludge”

  1. Need an excuse card like we used to have for school when I was little:

    Please excuse _______ from participating in ‘the dish’ today/week (etc). I’m feeling and/or experiencing (circle) panic/panxiety/depressed/irritable-angry/other/FUCK IT, JUST PLAIN CRAZY!!
    Thank you _________.

  2. Dr. Q sounds awful!!! Reading side effects from his phone? Denying the ones you found about? Jeez.

  3. It’s amazing how many different meds used to treat psych disorders have that delightful side effect 😦

  4. ‘Suicidal thoughts’ became a side affect of life for me about three years back, maybe longer but who’s counting the various methods I thought up! figure I’m not ready for real cliff staring yet, just poetic musings about slitting wrists in a bath tub and posting them, so much healthier!!

    “On the plus side…No friends in my head popped out to wield a chainsaw at me.

    Oh, wait. THat’s on the bad side, ‘cos that would be entertaining as hell.”

    Two lines that restore my faith in humanity, the broken kind that don’t sugar coat shit and say it’s chocolate, not the normal kind that make me write more poems about ‘fatalistic logic’

    As for sleep, no problem sleeping…. big fucking problem going to bed, to sleep
    Fucked in the head but I’m laughing at my own insights, manic style and alone….
    Another poem about slitting wrists I think!

    • I write poems about alcohol, which would make me seem like a raging alcoholic. In fact, I can’t really afford booze so if I am drinking it’s cos someone else is buying. I don’t go out much so it ain’t often. Still…I relate to trying to drown in a bottle, to obliterate thought, to just be without my brain pummeling me. I also relate to the reality that it solves nothing, does more harm than good, yet people still want it like a dying man in the desert wants a drink.

      Whatever resonates. Just don’t go jumping off cliffs without me. I’ll make the parachutes and we can play russian roulette with my sewing/assembly skills!

      On Mon, Jul 6, 2015 at 6:24 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:


      • I’m wired not to drink alone, or at all really, yet I have three bottles of vodka in my fridge
        When I find someone to share them with… Hangover will get a new meaning!

        Or the other hand, if I did have the ability to drink alcohol, I’d be dead by now… or happier, not sure the difference sometimes
        A fucked up sense of humour helps!

  5. Check my latest post, you might laugh

    • I do read your posts. Unfortunately, unless it comes to my email, I forget to check my wordpress reader but once a week. Oops. (Slithers off in social awkwardness.)

      On Mon, Jul 6, 2015 at 7:01 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:


      • Social awkwardness, I just suffer from outright anti-social habits, good thing I learned to fake social awareness and all the crap that goes with!

      • So basically you’re a sociopath 😉 Step over there——–> with 80% of society, please.

        I like my loner leper colony of “too neurotic to fit one disorder”. 🙂

        On Mon, Jul 6, 2015 at 7:10 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:


      • Look, I’m perfectly happy having an intervention with some sheep and plainly too busy staring at vodka bottles to join all the cool kids and their normality
        And “Too neurotic”… Take a medal for each condition and shove them in everyone’s ‘normal’ faces!

      • An intervention with sheep while staring at vodka bottles? You are most intriguing, my friend. But the sheep do not count as “not drinking alone”. Never ever touch the vodka when the sheep are present. That could lead to baaaaad things.

        On Mon, Jul 6, 2015 at 7:18 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:


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