Plz Plz Plz Make it STOP

I think I am okay-ish today. Was a bitch to drag my ass out of bed, but aren’t all mornings. I have all a.m. meds on board, thus far no lithium nausea.

No, last night was the uber epic bitch of it all.

I could feel my mood slipping, feel myself shivering cos one day it’s 80 and I am wearing shorts and a tank top, the next it’s in the thirties and I can’t get warm enough…It just drained me. So I took my 3mg Melatonin at 8 p.m. figuring, it’s taking longer and longer to kick in, this should have me out by ten thirty.

How wrong I was.

Instead…It was a two hour cyclone of racing thoughts, tossing, turning. Getting up to pee cos I am now drinking an ass ton of water since my tastebuds dictate all other things vile. The cats always want fed and watered or stomp my head with their claws. Just one thing after the other keeping me from calming down.

Yes, professionals. I tried deep cleansing breaths. I tried picturing the stop sign. I counted backwards in odds from a thousand. But of course, my attention span minus Focalin is such that I get lost within the first forty numbers and have to start over, which is one more thing to annoy and stress me out.

I took 1mg Xanax, thinking tornado brain didn’t stand  a chance against the combo, they HAD to knock me out.

Wrong again.

More counting, more stop signs.

By 11 p.m. I was so frustrated I literally moaned into my pillow, “God, make it stop, please, please, please!”

I don’t think mundanes grasp just horrid the racing thoughts are. Oh, sure, everyone has a lot on their mind and occasional experience racing thoughts and inability to get to sleep.

But to lead life in that constant state, every single day and night…

How I am not a serial killer or on lock down at the rubber ramada is a mystery. This shit practically had me in tears last night.

I want to go to the home of the idgets who deemed my insurance can no longer pay for Focalin. I want to recite every circling thought I have at max volume in its normal cadence of whiplash speed. I want to keep them awake, unnerved and stressed out. I want them to determine having seen what this shit is like that it doesn’t need an affordable med.

Then after that I wanna visit my doctor and the pharmacy and share this big bucket of imbalanced med crazy they started with all them all through the night. You almost drifted off. NO NO NO LOOK A BUNNY omg, I think I peed a little I laughed so hard the other day DID YOU JUST REALLY JUST FART IN BED THAT IS SO…guinea pigs are so cute…Oh, pigs, hey, how’s that kid I went to school with that always wore her hair in pig tails in second grade…

YEAH. It’s exactly like that, motherfuckers.

 

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10 Responses to “Plz Plz Plz Make it STOP”

  1. Would you like a cake IV drip to go with that? That might be the only thing that will help the hamster wheel of death slow down. Then again, it may be the hamster’s energy drink

  2. sorry you are having to endure this. I was up last night until about 12:30, up again around 2 or 2:30, and again at 4AM, then after everyone left for school I rolled to get an extra 5 min and took 15 so I was six minutes late for work. At 4AM I killed the racing thoughts with sensory overload- consisting of 3 episodes of Dexter while I washed 4 days of dishes in the sink and the rest in the dishwasher, whatever I could cram in there and hope it would come clean. I haven’t been motivated to do anything all week, until last night/this morning. During my dish washers union (membership: 1, apparently) strike, the kids were no help and Mrs M. protested in her ways but what can I do? I’m skidding downhill and trying to keep from saying or doing something I’ll regret. So I’ll count last night as positive. Freakish, weird, , but positive. If her protests were positive instead of negative or abstinent, I might be more motivated, but it’s been 20+ years and it’s not going to change. yay. the dishes are done. Will the kids put them away? (yea,right.) Tonight: reassemble the vacuum cleaner I washed last weekend, and get it dirty again. Good luck with all of yours. <3, DM (Dexter Morgan. ha.)

    • You just always gotta go and make me adore you more…Dexter is sort of my guy. I can’t buy a plastic tarp to paint without getting warm fuzzy feelings for his methods…
      All the great guys are married, gay, or fictional serial killers. Frick.

      • You never know, they may be all of the above. You got me. I confess, I’m a fictional serial killer. I’m married. You know what they say: “2 out 3 ain’t bad.”

  3. I hate those nights.

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