3 Pounds Of Cauliflower

So I’ve been binge watching (again) the show Perception. Eric McCormack portrays a brilliant professor of nueroscience who is also a paranoid schizophrenic who goes off and on his meds due to side effects and ya know, that whole “sucks out the creativity, soul, and personality” thing. Anyway, during a lecture he referred to our brains as “three pounds of cauliflower” and pointed out…we’re stuck with the brain we are given, flaws and all. I like this show because it focuses on chemical imbalances as opposed to mere diagnoses and personality disorders. And fact is, many, many of us do go off our meds due to the side effects which “the professionals” claim no longer exist with newer meds or never existed with older meds.

I opened with this because once again…I am fed up with the cognitive problems associated with my psych meds. I actually had to look up how to spell cauliflower because I went blank. It’s happening more and more often. I am throwing away things I actually need. I am forgetting simple things, like how to spell simple words I damn well know how t0 spell. So I am taking a break from the lithium. Fear not, I have the Lamictal to keep the highs and lows in check. If the side effects don’t wear off, then I know it’s narrowed down to Lamictal or Pristiq. I would totally talk to my shrink about med changes except they called yesterday to reschedule my appointment due to the doctor being out. I can’t even talk to a live person for refills, I have to leave a voice mail. FFS. Fine, I will be my own doctor. I’ve been doing this for so damned long. At least I’m still medicated. Just not as medicated.

My biggest problem these days isn’t depression. I’ve gotten used to life without joy. In fact, if you read the latest Oatmeal comic, you will get the “happily unhappy” thing. My issue of late is crippling anxiety that has me snapping at people. I jump at the slightest sound. The new neighbors are always bickering, the dog is always barking. Any given day my kid has 4 or 5 kids in the yard. R is always bugging me with “order this part and get it for a penny with free shipping” then when I can’t do it, he taunts me with “I thought you were the great bargain hunter.” Now while that tactic would work with a competitive personality, for me, it just makes me want to shut him out. Add to it, Spook and I were visiting Mrs. R the other night and he started talking about my house having bugs and what a shit housekeeper I am. I AM TRYING HERE. I need a fucking break, from all the kids, the noise, the anxiety.

To my credit, I have not tweaked my Xanax dose in spite of  having a six month back supply. If anything, I am too circumspect in taking it due to so many ignorant people thinking all Xanax users are abusers. One thing I am sure of. My first shrink might have been shitty but he had me on 1mg three times a day and I slept okay and managed to get through the days without flying off the handle because anxiety kicked me in the shins.

My kid had a dentist appt the other day. Of course, not one dentist in town would accept either the donor’s dental insurance or the medical card so I had to get her in with my old dentist in a town 20 miles away. I don’t do well with road trips. In fact, being more than fifteen minutes from home freaks me out. I got on the interstate and went blank on which exit to take because it didn’t list the small town, just the big ones. So I went back into town and took the old country highway which was basically a straight shot. I begged Spook not to tell anyone I was basically lost on a road I used to drive daily for three years as a teenager. FFS. Just…blank. Not there anymore. Like a computer file bleachbitten. Humiliating. I tried to take the new interstate to my uncle’s a few years back and got lost on it, too, ended up turning around and going the old school long way around through the country. My cauliflower has been stir fried.

R wants me at the shop today even though he has nothing for me to do, he just wants company. I don’t see it happening as I spent yesterday running errands for him because both his scooter and his car are down. I don’t mind helping out when you’re afoot, but it does take a lot out of me. The dish sucks the life out of me. I need a break. Plus I spent yesterday scrubbing the fridge and cabinets and spraying for bugs and damn it…I just want to zone out. Give the cauliflower stir fry a break.

Shockingly, I DID have a moment (ninety minutes) of true joy last week when I watched the season premiere of Z Nation. It’s like seeing people you love for the first time in months. And of course, the zombie killing and Z Whacking. I got goosebumps of the excitement kind. I liked that. I wish I could feel that way all the time.

On an irritating side note…Mrs. R lectured me the other night about how I need to get out of this trailer and get my child a fit home with no bugs. Trying to explain the problem of “first month rent and deposit” to someone making six figures a year is pointless. I also pointed out that at least here, I get to have my cats. She guilted me about my priorities being wrong and I need to put my kid first and do without my cats.

Remind me again why I put up with these people?

I am content here. Why can’t people just accept that? I don’t like the bugs or noisy neighbors but face it…I’d have neighbors anywhere I moved and if even one bug went with our stuff, I’d have the same problem. Plus I’d be trying to stay afloat even more than I am now. But noooo, these fuckwads don’t get it. At all.

Being around people depresses me more than it helps me. I don’t give a damn what the professionals say about it being healthy. It truly isn’t for me. Not when my mental health is on a decline. I can feel the seasonal depression coming on. The other day it was 95. This morning it was in the fifties. That shit fucks with my internal clock. What’s it called…See, another fucking blank when I know I did a post on the subject…

As you can tell…I am highly agitated. So I am going to go back to watching Perception and nurse my pretzel gut (it’s trash day so the truck is trouncing through with it’s beep beep beep and setting off my anxiety) and maybe take a Xanax. Though I don’t like taking it in the morning as on occasion,it will make me sleepy and I feel like a sloth any time I take a nap.  (I blame my former mother in law, she used to guilt me because ex hubby worked 60 hour weeks since my useless ass couldn’t hold a job and she was constantly comparing how much sleep I got compared to him when she knew fuck all about my insomnia.)

I miss that insomnia now. I need the extra time for me. To calm my brain. Ya know, after all the kids and mommy-ing and ringing phone and texts. But alas, come ten o clock I am just wiped out and…

Shut up, Morgue.

My three pounds of cauliflower hurts.


9 Responses to “3 Pounds Of Cauliflower”

  1. heatherruark Says:

    Sorry about the anxiety…my cauliflower hurts right now too. Here’s hoping that ditching that lithium monkey off your back ends the anxiety. Please let me know if I can help.

  2. The cognitive impairment is killing me, too. I stop mid-sentence all the time because I can’t remember the word I’m trying to say. I, also can’t spell anymore, I just read a book that I know I already read, but I couldn’t remember it. Sometimes hubby will say something and 2 minutes later I’ll have to ask him what he said. Fucking sucks!

  3. ugh, fucking insomnia I got 2 hours of sleep last night and can’t try again until 9 or 10 tonight. I worked all day and was nauseous. Wait, still nauseous. Shit. I didn’t meet my production goals, sorry boss. I survived and it’s 9:00, I have no idea how I’m not dropping dead. If I die of exhaustion, I’m haunting all the fucking slave-driving people and the damn medi-go-round doctorwho killed me. And yeah, I’ll visit you in your dreams, my darling dear. 😉 Cause I love you like that. ~DM

  4. The mental impairment gets me too. My blog has slowed down since the meds started messing with my brain. My son wants me to get off of them. Not a good idea.

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