Archive for February, 2016

Asshole Nation

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , on February 29, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

YEP. I am gonna rant some more on how people suck because I have once again been slapped with evidence of it. Until flogged with goodness, I will continue to highlight the asshole factor because it sure as hell explains my attitude.

“The devil girls” came to play with my kid yesterday. They played outside, it was fine, but it was a really windy day and they wanted to come in…I said okay, as long as they stayed out of my way. (I was on basket #7 of folding laundry,ffs) Next I know their mom is at my door, telling them they have to come home because it’s too windy to play outside. Um…Then why did you let them play outside in the wind for ninety minutes only to come fetch them when they decided to come inside? But no, I don’t start shit, I try to make nice even while my kid is having her tearfest cos even at six she can see the idiocy of this woman’s argument.

It took me a half hour to get my kid to stop bawling and then I peeked outside…and I’ll be damned if those kids weren’t outside their own house, in the yard, in the wind, wearing tank top dresses, playing and screeching.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

If you are gonna be an asshole and somehow say your kids are too good to play with mine you could at least come up with a plausible LIE. Or hey, here’s a novelty- the truth! “We don’t want our kids around someone who smokes.” Fair enough. “We heard you’re a lesbian satanist who eats unicorn meat and we’re religious vegans…” Cool. But such blatant lying? COCKWEASEL ASSTRASH LYING MOTHERFUCKERS.

Cos ya know, I had to bust my butt to make sure my kid didn’t look out the window and see those kids playing and have to explain to her what can’t be explained. ASSHOLES. It’s one thing to piss me off, I spend 80 percent of my life pissed off, it’s my fucking baseline. But when you pull shit that hurts my kid’s feelings….I WANT YOU TO CHOKE ON BARBWIRE GRENADES FILLED WITH ACID.

I think it’s safe for any of you to assume, I am low on meds with no cash so my levels are all fucked up and oh, yay, I am also hormonal. Evidenced by the fact I came home from taking my kid to school, didn’t bother to get some tea, smoke a cigarette, or even take meds. I fell face down into the blankets and slept for four hours. So noot me and yet sooo me right before pms hits. That and folding ten baskets of laundry yesterday probably tapped me out.

Ya think I am joking? I wish. But I pushed myself. Now I only have three more to fold. Cos when I go depressive and get behind on stuff, I fuck it up good. To my credit, I carried through on my plan to make meatloaf and it rocked. My kid wouldn’t touch it, of course. These days I am so far under the surface it’s setting these little goals and following through that have me staying afloat. If I can just do this much…LIke Saturday, when I showered. Major fucking victory.

Yeah, yeah, I am too negative, I should inhale the rainbow fumes. The day I can do that I will never take another pill in my life. Because I know this is a confluence of my fucked up chemicals, running low on meds, being hormonal, being so stressed and anxious…I get it. Life isn’t *that* bad. It just feels like it right now. And yes, I know, as a decent human being, I should be walking on sunshine for my friends who are doing well with their bipolar and their lives are coming up roses…I should dance jigs and like an egyptian and I promise maybe I will do that if I can ever get my shit sorted out upstairs…

Until then…

People are assholes and I am the human equivalent of Grumpy Cat.

Row, row, row your boat gently off a cliff….

Life With Depression Is Performance Art

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , on February 28, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

It‘s true. We with mental imbalances are great thespians in this production called life. We fake our way through the customary interactions, sleepwalk through the grind of daily chores, we jump through flaming hoops trying to keep up with those around us when inside…We are drowning, dying, on the verge of going under and being okay with it. Game over, finally some peace.

Rather than view us as lesser or weak, I think we should be viewed as having the strength and courage of greek Gods for what we deal with daily is but a smidgeon of what others deal with their entire lives. Make no mistake…it is EXHAUSTING to have to constantly perform just to meet the status quo of what others require of us. To fall below said expectations is as toxic to our mental health as the imbalances themselves and so we try harder than others, we push ourselves further, we dance on broken glass barefoot while juggling flaming sticks with bare hands and a beach ball on our nose.

Having said all of that, I will now return to regularly scheduled programming where my depression and my oppressive surroundings try to convince me I am a waste of space.

So I mentioned Friday I served all those hours in the dish at R’s beck and call over this stupid car thing. Of course, that had to be the day people kept coming into the shop. I’m not talking dozens, but six people in one day and four of them all at once…My performance skills waned. I tried to paste on the smile, do the shallow interaction, but…I fled to the back for a smoke because yes, even three people in a room is a crowd to me and I panic. I don’t mean “Oops, I am uncomfortable.” I am talking the anxiety that makes you feel like you’re painted with a target and everyone is armed with an Uzi. Now if I can’t hang out with a friend and have lunch and such without an episode of such magnitude…My hope for future ventures is pretty iffy.

Yesterday wasn’t much better on the anxiety front. The depressive undertow is always there, but I can occasionally drown it out with binge watching TV shows. Anxiety on the other hand…I fetched my kid from my mom’s, her having a fit cos I picked her up “too soon” and ruined her life. Then we got home and bam instant recovery for she spotted two of her little school friends outside. These are the “devil girls” who for whatever rumor, er reason, have not been allowed to play with Spook for two years. When they came over and the three of them were all making happy noises…

Much as my noise sensitive ears cringed…I was happy that my kid had her friends back and they were having fun. Pissy that they insisted on playing inside even though it was 70 degrees out.

Then in an instant I was reminded why I dubbed them the devil girls. They weren’t here five minutes before they started asking for food and snacks and drinks. I’m not selfish but I can’t afford it. Besides, my mom taught me aside from water, you don’t ask for food at other people’s houses, you go home for food. They were here four hours. Aside from the noise and chaos, and of course, it causing me to break out in hives…it was ok. But they asked for food seven times, then invited themselves for supper. This was what started my issue with them in the first place. (And yes, I talked to the parents, it did no good.)  I hate being stingy. I hate being so stressed and depressed my kid tells me I am mean to her friends. (Of course, if I do my performance art and try to be funny and her friends like me, that is wrong too cos I am trying to steal them.)

It was a mixed thing. Glad Spook and her friends had fun. Irked with the asking for food. Always unnerved by the chaos and noise and of course, my stupid anxiety causing me to erupt with hives.  I am putting on a show here, earning a fucking Oscar, and…I am tired.

Tired of faking it. Tired of feeling like I am gonna break down on a daily basis. Tired of being told “You’re still doing it so obviously you aren’t gonna break down.”

Those famous words uttered to every person right before they had a breakdown and went into the hospital because damn it…we have limits. We are strong. We are not invincible. And when depression and anxiety and life itself just keep taking without ever giving in return….

Psychological bankruptcy becomes a very real possibility.

But I keep trying. I don’t know why. Dad stopped by last night and started in on me about when R was gonna have that damned red car towed. Then I had to call R and he got bitchy and it’s like….Calgon, take me away! (Too young to remember that one, embryos?)

Today I was gonna do house work. Instead of that…I am doing fuck all. As I said…I am tired. I’ve been on stage performing for weeks and I need a break.

This beach ball is really hard to balance now that it’s deflated.

Square Spork Kind Of Week

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on February 27, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

sporkFuck you, KFC. I want the round sporks back, demmit. This square thing is functional and the black is stylish but…really, wtf. I can’t stand deviation, it makes my panic riddled brain start spinning like a zombie hamster is on a wheel seeking brains….

Yeah. THAT kind of week. It was nice someone bought me lunch, but to get a square spork…So traumatizing. Actually it was just an eye roll as I was square spork deep into my mashed potatoes. Ugh. I am such a disloyal sell out.

I am also trying to use humor because things really haven’t improved and I am scared my never ending depression is causing me to be shunned in the blogosphere. It has to be my fucked up perception, but no self respecting mental health blogger would ever mistake a black depression for someone simply being negative, right? Oh, that’s fantasy land, this is reality. Ya know, the place where even my own parents tell me to grow up because depression is totally maturity related. I am sick of it myself, but wtf am I supposed to do? I see the doc Wednesday and I fear I am not just gonna be condescended to but also reprimanded. I never did get the blood work done for the lithium (if they wanna provide transportation for the ten mile trip, it’d have been done, broke doesn’t mean non cooperative). I’ve already started tapering off the Cymbalta (30mg every other day) because if I don’t get off this shit, I am gonna take a fucking cheese grater to my damned brain. Which means another med and more disappointed expression doctor and….

Oh, well. This is my normal, lather, rinse, repeat.

What is NOT my norm and was all done without my damned consent and has me infuriated even though I am supposed to be rolling in gratitude…My dad went and bought a Grand Am for two hundred bucks. It doesn’t run. He made a deal with R to do the diagnostic and see if it can be revived. AND GUESS WHO IS GONNA BE ON THE HOOK REPAYING ALL THIS MONEY? Yeah, me. No one fucking asked me. I was gonna transfer the Chevy and drive it til it fell in the road.  Instead, I am now in debt. To two of my least favorite people to owe. I had to serve six dish hours yesterday as “Payment” for R to have this piece of shit car towed to where it can be worked on.

“But you can get us paid back now that you’re going to get child support.”

NO, YOU COCKWEASELS! I wanted a chance to get my feet under me, get our budget figured out, maybe be able to take my kid to Six Flags since she wins a ticket for her reading every year and I can never get her there…I thought maybe I could get some lamps as the place is like a crypt and you can not see to read. Or a hey,a toaster cos I haven’t had one in six months. The cats are gonna need that flea stuff which is a hundred dollars,I am not losing them all like I had to endure last year…

It’s just like, NONE of them talked to me and yet now I am on the hook for the money, for being eternally grateful, and all the stuff I had to try to balance out has to take a backseat. Not to mention, R will never consider us square cos he can’t hang out alone so if he spends a dollar on this piece of shit car, that’s six hours of my life I am gonna be expected to hang out at the shop to “repay him.”

I don’t think I’d be this furious if I had been included. Instead I was left out of the loop and all this was done “for me” by two men who seem to think I am below average intelligence. I admit I know fuck all about cars. I’d have gladly accepted a repayment agreement and advice and all this HAD I been consulted at all. But one day my dad mentions seeing a car, two days later I’m informed by R that I now own a red Grand Am that does not run. (I fucking hate red cars, too conspicuous, too “look at me!”)

It’s not ingratitude, I swear. It’s not the bipolar. It’s being excluded. I am 43 years old and their well meaning actions have reduced me to feeling like nothing but a special needs teenager. I tried to express this, calmly, and got hit with the lack of gratitude thing yet again.

It’s like I am screaming at the top of my lungs and no sound is coming out. And when I am not giving free will and a choice, I want to climb on a ten foot tall stack of Marshall amps and start screaming like a fucking banshee.

Ugh. It almost feels like financial rape. Before I can even get a single support payment these asshats are out spending the money. May as well just sign it over to them because no doubt like the last Not so Grand Am R said was a solid car and died within 18 months…this one will be a money pit. Every time I think I can see light at the end of the tunnel…

Every time I think, look, I didn’t think I could do this, but I am doing it…(Trip to Aldi, during which I had a massive panic attack and my legs started wobbling uncontrollably, had to bend over and grab for leverage.)

I’m doing it.But I am one step closer to not doing it every single day. I haven’t showered in like six days. I barely remember to scrape the flesh out from between my fangs. I try to muster up my give a fuck and it’s missing in action. Meanwhile I am doing the best I can with my kid and she reminds me daily it’s not good enough. I give her a dollar for a Smencil. “You should have given me two dollars!” I let her watch youtube for two hours. “But mommy, that’s not fair, I wasn’t done with the neverending elsa audio ipecac playlist!”

I remind myself she’s just a child. I used to be the same way. I am taking it harder because my disorders are kicking my ass.

Doesn’t make it any easier. She stayed at mom’s last night and I was still in bed by 9 p.m., too wiped out by the week to have any will to do anything else. It goes way beyond being an exhausted single parent in a depression. I think depression was surpassed some time ago. THis is “end of the road” territory. I am practically an inmate ready to give up, be beat up daily, and just trudge through with acceptance and not even the energy to be bitter about it.

Ok,I am done being ranty and stuff.

Until the next time…if you can’t beat ’em….arrange to have ’em beaten.

 

Listless

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , on February 24, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

Listless is how I am feeling on this cold, gray, windy winter day. Earlier my primary thought was getting my kid to school so I could come back and nestle under the covers. The sleep disturbance of the last 14 months leaves me feeling like I can never get enough rest.

I felt like a slug yesterday because I literally did fuck all but cook spaghetti for supper. Yep. I didn’t even go to the shop. Since he went off the other night about all my shortcomings, I figure…what the fuck ever. Because I admitted those shortcomings, apologized, tried to get him to work around my current mental cycle and he refused. I’ve had many employers with more compassion and flexibility so screw him. Of course, he called yesterday evening to ask for a password to a website he uses. Once again, I couldn’t remember and failed. I am just an epic bucket of failure. What weirded me out was he texted twice while he was watching The Flash and my sleeping pill was kicking in and it was just like, wtf. ONe day you tell me I’m unreliable and useless then you’re…UM…I don’t need the confusion, though I could use the gas money given when I put up with him. I have no idea how I am gonna get my kid to school the next five days or feed my cats.

It won’t be kissing his ass, that’s for sure. My mind plays tricks on me as is, last thing I need is some drunkard taking his shit out on me then telling me it didn’t happen.

I think I’ve sold all my dvds for gas money. I have nothing to pawn. As stressful as that is, ya know what? I feel more free than I have in months. It’s like the pillow was taken off of my face and I am breathing again.

Maybe it will sort out, like last time. Mrs R sought me out cos she missed me and Spook. I will never hear an apology from him and why would I, he was probably so drunk he doesn’t remember getting so nasty. Or the ever popular “you took it out of context, I was joking.” I loooooove the way the mundanes use that to screw with my bipolar brain.

I have not been productive today. IN fact the last few days my first waking thought is, is it bedtime yet. It may be the depression talking. I set ONE goal for myself today, figuring if I can do one thing, then I’ve earned my listlessness. It was hard forcing myself to face the laundry room where all the cat boxes are and the messy clay litter feels like rocks and they can’t be scooped but have to be emptied…Ugh. But I did. I cleaned all the boxes, moved it all  to the kitchen to sweep up, put down the rugs, moved it all back, through a load of laundry into wash and a load into dry…

I’m done. Anything else I may do is gravy. And fuck anyone who says I am “limiting” myself by only setting one goal. It’s the best advice a counselor ever gave me, ya know, back in the therapy days when everything was vomiting sunshine.

The wind makes me nervous. Everything does. And I think it’s the Cymbalta. THe lower dose hasn’t helped with anxiety, and it sure as hell has sent my mood downward. Once again, I get to greet the shrink and say,hey, look, another one failed, verbally blog me for being a psychiatric hypochondriac.

Pfft.

I should eat. I already had my lithium gag fest but still, food…I am just too damn listless to bother. Instead…I think I will stare at the pretty fish aquarium video on my desktop monitor and wait for the “relaxing” thing to happen.

Thou Shalt Not Spew False Sunshine

Posted in anxiety disorders, biolar disorder with tags , , , on February 23, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

Having been told I am too negative and can’t be made happy…I’ve taken a wee break from blogging. I mean, really, how much misery can I spew before even I find myself redundant? But I also won’t spew sunshine where there is none. My corner of the world is very dark, sue me. Maybe you’ll get the spork of doom in a settlement. After I plant it in your eyeball.

Yeah. this is where my mind has been as of late. The anxiety has me melting down. Which has my mood crashing. Throw all the outside stuff on top of the pile, I feel buried alive. Not woe-is-me. Just…cut me some fucking slack people, I didn’t get on disability for nothing,I have legitimate conditions and NO ONE WILL LISTEN.

They are automatons, I should be one, too. When I fail, I am a disappointment. But if someone says “I can’t keep your pace and trying to do so is harmful to me” you shouldn’t expect them to keep up. I really am “over” the people around me.

Let’s see…my dad went behind my back and enlisted R to look at this car for me. Of course, no one informed me cos I am apparently a child and not mature enough to be in the loop. I HATE being caught off guard. Is it asking too much to simply be kept in the fucking loop? Then R starts going on about how he could probably get this car running and he’d even loan me the $300 for the car..Which I did NOT ask for because as I have learned…Nobody does things without strings. I am not talking quid pro quo. I am talking “I loaned you fifty bucks, now you have to be at my beck and call for the next two years.”

Proof was last night. He stopped by to talk about the car and loaning me money and doing all the work and I pointedly said, I also have to have the money to license and insure it…And he snaps, “Stop being a dick, someone is trying to do something nice for you!.”

And all the years of mania untreated and him and my family calling me head in the clouds and not being mature and thinking things through…Now I am grounded and thinking ahead realistically..and I am still wrong.

I frustratedly said, “If I don’t think ahead, I’m head in the cloud, if I do think ahead, I’m negative and ungrateful.Would you people just tell me what it is you want me to be?”

I was so much more calm and content when I basically shunned them all.

THEN, from out of nowhere after watching Flash, he abruptly gets up and goes out with door without so much as bye. I went out and asked and he, calmly, started rattling off about how I never show up at the shop when he wants me to, I lie when I say I am gonna be there, I use him and have no gratitude…No trigger, he literally just went spaztic. I was so baffled I couldn’t even utter a word. He drove off, I closed the door, and spent the evening trying to figure out how we went from watching Flash (well, I was, he was on his stupid iphone playing poker) and then….THAT. The other night he said we help each, we’re square, and now….This.  A repeat from a pri0r fit he had a couple years back spewing the same shit.

I know that he and Mrs R have been very kind and generous. I have great gratitude for them. I am sorry if in all my altered mental states it gets lost in translation. But it is not fair for him to act like he owns me and every minute of my time because he has helped me. It’s not a selfless Christian act if you use it as leverage at every turn to get your way.

So prior to his meltdown he asked me to come in. I told him it’d be after I cleaned up and got all the trash set outside. Maybe that set him off. Knowing how shaky I am outside my bubble, I really don’t see how missing an hour of him drinking coffee, smoking, and playing on his damned iphone. I have tried to talk to him, explain the morning complications with the Lithium, how my depression does taint my moods and I prefer to stay away, and I half definitely explained the anxiety and how being outside my bubble freaks me out.

He doesn’t care. And that’s what brought tears to my eyes this morning. None of them care. None of them even try to understand.

I wish I were making it up as some affectation.

I’ve been trying to work my nerve up to go to Aldi for groceries for four days now. I just can’t seem to do it. My pretzel gut has been awful this morning, my allergies have choking all night and tied to a tissue box during the day. I am a trainwreck.

That’s all I’ve got for now.

You may all go pop an extra anti depressant to counteract my bummerness.

The Gratitude Trap

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , on February 20, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

What I learned yesterday is that…People in general are without empathy. I was having a terrible day with everything going wrong, Hell, I couldn’t even add minutes to my phone because the website dicked me around for three days over my email address…I had EVERY right to feel defeated and grumpy. I was wrestling with the kind of anxiety that basically turned an outspoken badass woman into a silent statue…Which of course mundanes perceive as grumpy poutiness. THEN my lifeline laptop blue screens me and I get, hey, at least you have that “new” laptop left at the shop. Sure, and if one of your kids dies, you can just use the spare. Oh and the car breaks down so I have to rely on my sister to fetch Spook and she almost forgot. WTF.

And not a bit of empathy to be found from any of my “People”. Just several mutterings of, “She can’t be made happy.”

I call this the gratitude trap. Mundanes don’t get mental disorders so of course, if we don’t respond “normally” with sunshine spewing and pompoms, we are ungrateful and self absorbed brats. To an extent, I get it. I probably should have come from court feeling most triumphant cos seventy a week for her seventy less for him. Witnessing his fakeness “Oh, I want Niki to have full custody, I just want visitation once this is all settled”) followed by his outrage when the lawyer asked if he’d agree to  some back support…GRRR. No, I didn’t feel grateful.

What I felt was fucking filled with self hate that I chose this loser to be a father for my child. How could I have been so fucking stupid? How I am any better than him? She deserves better parents than both of us. So, no, I was not focused on being greedy about money. I was just plain sad that Spook got this as her lot in life. He didn’t even ask about her yet again, just wanted her social so he could add her to his insurance and get the court off his back. HOW COULD I HAVE BEEN SUCH AN IDIOT???? I can’t even claim I was smitten. I questioned his every sentence, caught him in so many lies (not even about important stuff), I always knew not to trust him which was why everything went in my name and I never let him drive my car…I knew. And still….

Damn it, sometimes, guilt and self loathing trumps gratitude.

I am also stressed about the insurance bit as it doesn’t cover dental or vision and she wears glasses so obviously she needs eye care…Then he and I will be 25% liaible each for what isn’t covered. Cos I have money to fucking spare, this has worked out so well for me. Thank god she is healthy aside from the eyecare. I don’t want to have to deal with him over glitches with the insurance card, which I wonder, will her pedatrician take or will I have to upset that part of her world…

And yeah, you can say I am making it all about me, but without me, what does she have? So if I am busy having a meltdown my kid doesn’t have her mom. It’s all connected. Besides, have you heard me say a word about “gimme that back support money to spend wily nily”? Nope. My only concern is a better car to haul her around in. This is about upsetting our lives as little as possible.

There was one highlight at the courthouse. Donor said something and I responded and then he said something and Mrs R snapped, “DON’T YOU TALK TO HER LIKE SHE’S STUPID!”

It hit me at that moment that he always talked to me that way. I complained I felt he was condescending but he convinced me I was taking everything out of context, cos of my mental issues, cos of my personality, cos of my dysfunctional family…For once someone else witnessed it and that felt good. For ten seconds before I went back to “were you in a coma when you found this guy???”

Today, thankfully, has gone better. The car is running, I got my phone minutes finally, Dad took Spook out for lunch so I get a break, and the weather is 70 degrees, sunny, and I am sweating instead of shivering…

I still feel tapped out. I will grocery shop another day. I know people view this as avoidance but really…If you’d just had surgery, people would encourage you to take it easy a day or two.Well, when faced with that much anxiety and adversity in one day, I feel like a surgical case who needs to take it easy a day or two.

So..I am NOT without gratitude. Spook will be getting support so next time she asks to go to cheerleader day camp, maybe mommy can actually say yes, I can afford that.

At the same time…I am NOT gonna do cartwheels, shake pom poms and claim to be grateful for shitty days like yesterday.

Mundanes wouldn’t be expected to because everyone has a bad day.

For whatever reason, if you’re bipolar,you don’t get a bad day, you just have bad behavior and ingratitude.

Goatwhore cockweasel ass trashers.

 

 

Does anyone have the url for the OLD posting page???

Posted in Uncategorized on February 20, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

I have had the day from Hell. Court. Where the donor has to pay a whopping seventy bucks a week child support and I am fairly sure my lawyer is trying to be friends with the donor…Who made appropriate gestures of emotion if you don’t know what a fake he is.

My car was broken down, dad bought the needed parts, had to wait 7 hours for R to fix it.

My beloved laptop Ass TRash I am so attached to blue screen of death’d me.

Now I am using this “new” laptop left behind at the shop and the idget never didm replace the keyboard as told so I am battling a foreign barely functioning keyboard.

Mr and Mrs R have both taken my withdrawal and wariness as some sort of “she can’t be made happy” thing.

And to top it off, I am now stuck using this obnoxious white and blue wordpress page whereas before I had saved a link to the old school black and white. I WANT IT BACK.

I doubt I will post much of this blinding template is my only option.

Sometimes I just don’t like change. And sometimes, what others consider “simpler” and “an upgrade”….It’s just rubbish .

I am going to bed. I have nothing left to give today.