Bitter Pillz, Zero Thrillz

If you don’t know this…200 mg Lamatrogine tablets are the size of hubcaps. On a combine. Yes, I know, I’m being dramatic. Still, they are big. And I got one stuck to the roof of my mouth forty minutes ago, then had to rush to drink more to wash it down, so it dissolved. Enter that damned nasty pill bitterness. Which is still lingering now and making me gag. I cannot believe the misery I go through with this shit and I don’t even get high.

Apparently I need to go to prison. Those ladies have perfected using psych meds to get high. Though how Seroquel can be considered “baby heroin” baffles me. I’ve never done heroin but I’m pretty sure being zonked out for 14 hours isn’t a high I’d want and that’s all Seroquel did for me. I never snorted them, though. Maybe I missed out.

My daughter, queen of random “Mommy, why are the cats striped? Oh, can I have chocolate? Look at that shiny pink thing!” speeches…told me this morning I can’t get  man until I stop taking my meds. No idea where this came from. None. First off, not sure why I’d want a man. I’m saving the monotonous relationship thing for my sixties when I truly have nothing better to do. Second…If she’s waiting for a stepdad when mommy’s “better” and can stop her meds…That kid is doomed.

The myth that society, and those with situational conditions, perpetuate that mental illness of a chronic nature can be cured is a great disservice as well as asinine. Of course, no one would think to tell a diabetic one day they’d be cured and not need insulin. No, but mental illness…No biggie, can be cured if you want it bad enough.

I’m babbling. I do that when I get nervous. This is situational anxiety, though, waiting to hear from mom and sis about what they’re going to do next. I don’t see us having to move too much, considering the smoke and water damage downstairs. Nephew’s room is a total loss. Not sure about sis’s room. Not sure how good an idea it’d be going upstairs to move shit considering how weakened the entire structure is. But when my building burned, I got as much as I could salvage out so I get it.

Stepmonster buried the seven kitties and two ferrets in her garden yesterday. Since my hormones have balanced, I am back to tearless numb and it pisses me off. I was kind of enjoying the waterworks. Made me feel human again. I wouldn’t want that extreme all the time but damn…It’s like my affect is so flat I come off as apathetic and I’m really not.

What does need moved will have to be done by dad and stepmonster with their pick ups and my car. Because sis and them only have the one car and it’s small and their dumbasses filled the trunk with giant speakers cos ya know, a stereo so loud it makes knicknacks fall off my walls from the vibrations is important. Whereas I keep my big ass trunk empty, I could stash six full grown corpses in  there. Just sayin’. (Ya know, friends help you move, a real friend helps you move the bodies, and a best friend helps you move the bodies and provides you with an alibi.)

So far, the campaign as raised $115. Two of the three donations were from my wondermous internet friends. The most recent must have been made by a friend of my brother in law’s ‘cos the message involved a few “bros”. I don’t know anyone who says that. My people say “dude.” Mainly because I say it and spend enough time with me, it seeps into your pores. It amazes me that this is my second fundraiser and I’ve put the flyers up around town, not just on line, and yet…No locals have donated. I may be an anti social hermit, but my sis and her husband are pretty social so it’s hard to believe their friends aren’t stepping up. Yeah, we’re all broke, but their friends have money to buy weed so skip the dime bag today, dude, donate so I don’t end up with a houseful of people.

I’m terrible. At least I am honest about being terrible. I would never let them be homeless but aside from a spare bed and a couch, I really don’t have room for five people. But I’ve taken mom and sis and nephew in before when they were homeless so…Misanthrope that I am and for all my bitching…Family is family. Suckage by blood.

Mom just called, she needs a ride. They’re looking at properties today and thus far, it ain’t looking good. Five hundred bucks a month for something in a neighborhood I don’t even drive through. (Cos as I said, I am terrible.) But you take what you can get. If they get a really crappy place in a bad hood I can give them shit same as they give me shit for living in a trailer park.

Dahlia, one of the cats they saved, passed away at the vet’s office. That black cat they call Rocky that’s been sick for weeks and is on his third vet visit is still kicking. He is sicker than Abby and he is still fighting, ffs. I told them if he makes it, I’ll take him. His tenacity reminds me of well, me. And they didn’t even give it a name until last week, it was just this stray and mom just said, “Well, no one really loves him.” Um…That’s harsh. I’ll take him if he makes it. Cat that fights that damned hard deserves a home even if he’s not warm and fuzzy.

I need a shower. Just haven’t worked myself up to it. The anxiety has set in because prior to this, I was terrified to be gone lest the place catch on fire. For the very reason mom’s did. Bad wiring and too much stuff plugged in. (Wireless world my ass.) I heard sirens yesterday and had a moment of absolute terror cos when bad shit happens in my family, it really happens in a big way.

I am aware this post makes no sense and is missing only a LOOK AT THE SHINY THING,OMG, A BUNNY! Just needed to vent. Now I am gonna change shirts, throw on some deodorant, maybe brush my hair, and call myself ready. No point getting cleaned up if I’m gonna be hauling sooty stuff.

Fuck, I just saw a mouse in the hallway. I haven’t had a mouse in two years. Fuck. Gotta get a live trap. I can’t stand killing even vermin. I could barely feed my snake unless I got the nasty mice that bit me. Then I relished watching Ophelia eat the fuckers. Every time someone moves out here I end up with bugs or a mouse. And the landlord blames us for being “dirty”. Yeah, couldn’t be his unwillingness to exterminate.

Okay. Time to pretend to be human. Try to channel the “feelings” thing. There is no happy medium with bipolar. Off meds, you’re too emotional, on meds, you have no emotion. No win.

This is why I use the word “fuck” so much. It’s appropriate because bipolar is fucking bullshit fuckity fuck useless fucking bullfuckingshit.

And no, I don’t kiss my mom with that mouth cos in my family showing affection will get you slapped.

We do put the fun in dysfunctional.

 

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15 Responses to “Bitter Pillz, Zero Thrillz”

  1. Sending strong vibes for you and your family today. Fuck

  2. Hugs & prayers & fucking thinking of you! ;-* oh you’re sooo right, those fucking lamictal are huge, even worse, beside bitter, they fucking disintegrate & stick in your mouth,,, the other poisons (meds) not quite so bad,,, good luck with the (?) aftermath of typhoon Shitstorm! £0¥€ ya Sissy

  3. Baby heroin? I can’t even begin to wrap my head around that. Fingers crossed for Rocky.

  4. Hugs for your family and those pills are so bitter and seem to like to hide in the mouth

  5. Fuck is an awesome word.

  6. What the suffering fuck is it with lamictal… They’re all oooh let’s charge a fortune for these and male the patient feel even worse by constructing them from old chicken feathers and baby powder. Fuckers.

  7. After all it’s done for me, I wouldn’t care if Lamictal tasted like old sweat socks. It turned my brain back on.

  8. Wow I’ve only been on Seroquel for 3 days (like, just popped my third and waiting for it to start to work) but I’ve been finding it makes me sleep, but I’m so much more wakeable than when I’m not on it. It makes me wonder if this is what my mum used to grind into my food as a child (there was DEFINITELY something). Did you find S. made you agitated at all? It’s definitely kicking my anxiety and making me get more stuff done but I wouldn’t say it’s stabilizing my mood a lot.
    And of COURSE mental illness can be cured that’s why we’re all such useless slackers with no motivation (if they keep telling themselves this it might become true). My husband’s sister was on the phone yesterday asking him why I hadn’t got a job yet…… then giving him all sorts of useless suggestions. I was sat right next to him wanting to stab her.
    And I will donate to your family’s fire fundraiser just as soon as I can separate my husband from my credit card (with many assurances that I won’t try to buy a boat this time. We live far inland, apparently this is a reason to not own a boat).

    • All Seroquel did for me, even in low doses, was make me comatose. Sleep is good. 13 -16 hours of sleep…Not a solution,

      • Yeah it;s just hit me like a train. Can I maeke it to bed???

      • Ha. Several times while in Seroquel I thought, okay, I have 20 minutes til it kicks in so I can shower…only to zonk out in the shower and wake to ice cold water and people breaking the door in to make sure I was alive.
        Other than sleep comas, it had zero benefit for me, especially for anxiety.
        Though if people want to obliterate reality with sleep…This is the drug to do it.

      • I wouldn’t mind but I went straight upstairs after that, and it then took me over an hour to get to sleep because it seems to put me in a near-sleep state where I’m hypersensitive to the sound of my husband snoring. It kept me awake for hours. ARRRGH. I need some earplugs.

  9. Omg I totally get the lamotirgine 200mg thing. I take 275mg and even the little ones get stuck and that ‘berry’ taste does nothing! I hope everything goes ok for your family, a home in a bad hood is better than no home at all right? Sending love xoxox

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