Archive for October, 2016

My Anxiety’s So High, It’s Been Smoking Pot

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , , on October 30, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

Yesterday started out with a harried trip to get my kid to school because I was so cold, I literally could not force my butt out of bed til 7:35. By the time I got back…I bundled up and knew I’d likely fall asleep. (I’d been up til after 1 talking to a newcomer to chat, and it was awesome, hope it helped her as much as it helped me.) Alas, I was due at the shop to repay the texting chihuahua for some money I borrowed. (Oh, get this…For all his fussing ab0ut money and me owing him twenty bucks…He made a simple call to the  bank the other day, said he wanted to transfer money from X account to Y account…in the amount of TEN GRAND!…Yeah, my fucking heart bleeds for him.)

He said show up by ten. Meh, I woke up at ten and got there by 10:45. Lately he’s been playing fast and loose with shit while expecting me to jump thru hoops and I called him on his bullshit. Also took my tablet with so I could chat while bopping around for his demands. Kind of to make a point…ANNOYING WHEN SOMEONE IS HERE TO DO ONE THING AND YET SPENDS ALL THEIR TIME ON A DIGITAL DEVICE, AIN’T IT?

I survived,barely. But then I went to get Spook and he says, oh, do me one more favor…With spawn in tow, I had to brave Friday traffic on the main drag and go to Ace Hardware to 37 cents worth of screws and nuts. My kid, of course, was yapping (school halloween party sugared her up to demon proportion) and demanding I buy her this and that, and I’d been out of my safe zone almost 5 hours…I started to come unglued. When I begin to panic in the dish, it starts out as anger. Cursing. (Move your car, assclown, get off your phone, you cockweasel!) Then comes the breathing problem, the sweating, the mind spinning off its rails…GRRR. Hate when he pulls shit like that, asking at the last minute, knowing how much it stresses me out to drag her along with.

Bit of a respite at home then had to go pay car insurance. Of course, spawn was wound for sound, talk, talk, talk (good thing about no muffler, car drowns some of her noise out) and she wanted every item she saw and it…was just stressful. Overwhelming.

Today started out lethargic. No get up and go cos I gave so many sporks yesterday. But wait, there;s more! A big cookout at the family’s to celebrate my nephew’s correspondence school high school graduation. 30 people, only 7 of whom I am related to. My brother was having one of his bipolar pouting angry moods. My kid was fed sugar out the ears in spite of me saying enough. At least mom didn’t go for the throat, for a change. (Her brother survived his surgery and got to go home, so she’s feeling better about that.)

I survived three and a half hours there. The worst part (other than my dad yapping about the auction they’d gone to and had car parts and this old car went for X amount of money and blah blah) was cake time. My sis got an ice cream cake, forgot to thaw it a half hour ahead of time, so it was solid as a brick, took three people to get it sliced up. All of us crammed in this small kitchen, my kid sitting on my lap, while I was sweating bullets and trying to paste on the smile and do the civilized banter thing.

Leaving and coming home to my hovel has never been sweeter.

Except then Spook started yammer again, not pausing for a breath, and trying to manipulate me any time I wouldn’t kowtow to her demands and I am just like…ENOUGH NOISE!

So, yeah, my anxiety is high and it’s been smoking the good shit.

The weather changed again, suddenly got warm and sunny, I wore a tank top today and turned on a fan. Yes, after spending a day or two mummified in my Mermaid blanket with chattering teeth. FFS, weather, make up your bloody mind! I can’t get any equilibrium here.

I am supposed to take Spook to a trunk or treat thing some church is having tomorrow afternoon since I  bribed to get out of her school function (parenting academy, nope) so I am going to have to face more dish time, plus trick or treating Monday night. And she wants to be a zombie but won’t let me dirty up her hair and clothes to make it authentic and it’s like Z Up, damn it, there are no posh zombies!

Tuesday she has a dentist appointment 30 miles out of town.

Maybe by Wednesday I can breathe?

Just a reminder to everyone…If you haven’t checked out the Freshly Depressed chat room, come on by. I’ll send an invite to anyone who asks. Sometimes the mood is light hearted, sometime *s not. You can always steer the conversation to whatever you want to talk about. IMP  

(aka Bex) and I are there 3/4 of the time. (Check out that link to her blog if you want to get to know her better.)

And that’s all she wrote, folks.

P.S. Whoever is selling all this pot to my anxiety disorder…Stop it,already!

Waste Of Air

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

From mental health state…Today truly was a waste of air. Oh, sure, I had a hypomanic burst for a couple of hours this morning and went and served time at the shop and got a pack of smokes for my effort.

Then the temp dropped and it started raining. Cold rain. My mood crashed. Like, splat. I haven’t been able to shake it off all day or evening. I feel like I’ve been kicked by a football team, everything aches.

The two saving graces today…Talking to my tribe members in the chat room. You guys are awesome, so keep coming, keep inviting others (let me know so I can do the formal invite Chatzy requires.) It’s slow going getting a room going, especially with everyone in different time zones, different schedules, our ups and downs…But if we keep it going and do it together…We can become an even bigger, better wordpress community.

And the second saving grace…

After previous mentions in posts about wanting a mermaid blanket but not being able to afford it…A wondermous person who read the post gifted me with one. Asked for nothing in return, just said he hoped it brought me some happiness.

It’s a beautiful soft blankie and sooo very warm. If you have the cold leg/feet thing like I do but want your arms free for typing and whatnot…Mermaid blankets are the way to go. I am so very grateful to that kind soul. I’ve spent the day under the blankie and think I may marry it. At least for the coming cold months.

And that’s all I have to say tonight. Hopefully tomorrow will be less sucky.

Hard to believe weather can have such a negative effect on my mental state. And my doctor can cram his light box in an uncomfortable place cos they don’t work.




Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , , , , on October 26, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

So…Several Tribe members popped into the new chat room and I AM ELATED. Even if you can only spare  a couple of minutes or just want to sit in silence…The room is there just for those reasons.

I soo enjoyed talking to those who popped in! Be it about meds, food, TV shows, or whatnot…Just setting up a nickname and popping in means so very much!!!

You may notice sometimes that my friend imptiness is in the room and she and I have a goofy sort of shorthand.


She is my oldest, closest internet friend, whom I met in a depression support chat room back in the early 2000’s. In spite of our age difference…when our “room mother” and founder of the chat room passed away…We got very, very close. Fifteen years or so now we have been besties. She even traveled across an ocean by plane to an unfamiliar country (in spite of anxiety/panic issues) to spend seven months living with me and Spook. We love her like she is family, if not even more, because she isn’t a cockweasel like my family can be.

If am I not there and she is…Trust that she knows what all this mental stuff is. It took her 19 years to get a proper diagnosis and meds (fuck you, socialized medicine). She KNOWS, I assure you. She’s a lot like me, introverted, a little shy and maybe awkward but if you need a shoulder and empathy…Bex (imptiness) is my spiritual counterpart even if she’s not been very active in our wordpress tribe.

I trusted this woman with my child. ( And she helped remove lice from my kid’s hair, which makes her a bloody hero in my book!) Fellow Greenday fans can bond with her, cos um…I’m still not big on them and she adores them so…Be my guest. She also has a weird fetish for toast, IDK.

Point being…No matter your location, time zone, mental state, etc…We are determined to be here whenever possible. In fact, if I am NOT available and you just need to text chat…Simply ask and I will give you my number. ( I changed to the 1000 free texts a month and would rather use them on you guys than texting chihuahua),

I tried to send out as many invitations as I could, but I don’t have everyone’s email addy so I am sure I missed some and I am sorry for that. You are not excluded, no one is, I just need to know where to send the invite. You can email your address ( or create a fake email for privacy’s sake, whatever. I DON’T WANT ANYONE TO FEEL EXCLUDED, EVER. If you enter the chat room and feel the mood is too light to discuss your probs…Private messaging is available. You can even put those who annoy/trigger you on “ignore”.

This room is for support, but also…To honor me and Bex’s original chat room “mother”. Kathy, even though on limited disability income, actually paid for TEN of us original members too poor to pay for a subscription,  to join the paid service. She just cared that much. And if I had the extra money, I’d be paying for the premium virtual room for chat but alas, I cannot.

The chat room’s name “Freshly Depressed” is inspired by a graphic I saw posted on our dearly departed and greatly missed “Blahpolar” AKA Ulla’s blog. To honor her memory. To remind us all that while the law and society may call it “suicide”… we all know it was the depression she couldn’t live with and had to escape. I truly miss her but I truly hope she is at peace now. She is certainly not forgotten by the tribe, as this chat room proves.

To clarify, when I termed it “beta”, that simply meant a test run to gauge its features and interest garnered. There is always a learning curve, always a glitch, but I was tired of waiting for expertise and just wanted to get the show on the road, so to speak.

The fact half a dozen people popped in, even with little time to spare, exhausted and not feeling ebullient…Means there’s interest and so the room shall remain up unless I have to shut down for awhile or whatever.  I will always be back. Please keep coming back or pop in to test the waters. Ask for an invite if need be. No one will force you to talk if you’re not feeling it. In the past, I have often found it comforting enough to simply sit aside in a chat room and read what others are saying. Helps to feel less alone.

In closing…Thanks to you who popped in. Keep visiting, please. For those who have not popped in…Please do when you get a chance. And if anyone did not receive an invite…PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF PEGACORN LET ME KNOW AND GIVE ME YOUR ADDY SO YOU CAN BE INCLUDED.

I really want this chat room to work out. It’s important to me because I cannot count the number of times over the years a chat room pretty much saved me from self destruction or going down the rabbit hole. If we can offer that to others…It is time well spent. No one should ever have to feel so alone in this battle with bipolar/depression/schizophrenia/borderline personality disorder/anxiety/panic attack/ unnatural love for balloons…Seriously. The humor may be a lot off kilter or gallows or inside jokes…

The support has no strings.

Freshly Depressed is for ALL of us doing battle.

Please feel free to repost this and let your followers choose whether they need this  support.

I love you all, tribepolar members. From the deepest, sincerest recesses of my heart…I love you guys. You’ve been there for me…

Now let’s be there for each other when time allows.




Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , on October 25, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

I have set up and tested on Chatzy…FRESHLY DEPRESSED (in honor of Blahpolar/Ulla) is now up and running.

It is by email invite only so I need to know who wants to be invited. If you do not want to post your email publicly, drop me a line at and I will send the invite link.

Come one, come all. Invite others, I will send them the link.

Look forward to seeing you guys there!!!!!


For those who use smart phones…There is a free Chatzy App on Google Playstore.

No Rest For The Wicked is Not Just An Ozzy Osbourne Album

Posted in biolar disorder on October 25, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

Again last night. Sleepy and exhausted by 6:30 p.m. Get the spawn to bed. Curl up under warm covers. Purring kitty on my chest. And…BAM. Thoughts start spinning. How does that even work, to go from super sleepy to wide awake in ten flipping minutes? So I took .25 Xanax just to calm down my spinning brain. And as I began to nod off…Nope, bladder beckoned. Back to bed…Half hour. No sleep. Then the phone rings. More Hillary-is-the-devil-Trumo-is-God ranting from R, who damn well knew I had no voice at all yesterday other than a  rasp then wonders why I don’t have much to say to his call/rant.

More tossing turning, only now I am truly irked because I’d already gotten my fill of the political crap when my kid came home and informed me that her friends from 24 (who are black) say that Trump hates black people and wants to turn them all into slaves again. Hmmm…Personally, I think Trump and Clinton hate everyone who isn’t green, as in rich like them.

More groaning and sitting up in frustration, cos sleep wasn’t happening. Then my sister called. Then my mom called from her brother’s hospital bedside. He’s in agony, the morphine isn;t helping, and he went into surgery at 7 this morning for the aneurysm causing all the agony (ya know, cos the bone cancer and all is pretty minor.) Five days they’ve had him on hold knowing the surgery could alleviate the pain but because of his age and the chemo compromising everything, they didn’t want to risk it. Understandable but damn…mom’s not been home in 5 nights, she’s got my sister running clothes up to her which is a 75 mile round trip, and the man is getting worse instead of better and in agony.

Nothing good ever comes from phone calls or doctors.

It was ten thirty by the time I broke. Took a melatonin, even though we are down to four pills between two people the rest of the week. (I could take Trazadone or Restoril but I’d be comatose or hungover with that shit.) Just as I was starting to settle in…My kid trudged in whining to sleep in my bed. Her room is way warmer than mine and yet…she wants in my bed with the springs poking through the mattress. She jabbered. She complained. She kept me awake longer by making me more anxious.

It was after midnight before I slept. Then I woke up six times during the night, checking the clock, seeing how much longer before I had to face another day. Because now that it is colder and the clock’s are setting back thus getting dark way earlier…My body thinks darkness means sleepy time so if I look out and see it’s dark, I assume it’s time for sleep. Imagine my anger when the alarm goes off announcing it’s 7 a.m. I am NOT diurnal.

I still don’t have much of a voice today. I don’t know if it’s from last week’s hacking and drowning in sinus drainage or spending all weekend refereeing kids’ bickering but I sound like a raspy frog. The more I try to rest my voice, the more those around me seem to want to make me talk. Assholes.

The other night, R came by to watch a movie. Invited himself, cos I coulda told him I was in cramp misery and not conducive. Instead of watching the movie, he played on his goddamn phone. Then went into more election bullshit and when I said, “I hate them both so let’s agree to disagree…” He called me stupid and refused to speak to me for fifteen minutes. In my own home. Yep. That’s what this election has done. Turned otherwise mature intelligent people into petulant little kids just like Trump.

Trump, Hillary, it’s all gun, knife, noose. Choose the least painful way to die and your tormentors will just go with the most painful way, fuck you.

Let it be over with before it destroys my friendship with R. I’d like my car exhaust repaired before I have to tell him to fuck off.

I am shallow that way, but damn it, what do you do with someone who absolutely refuses to let you have your own opinion contrary to theirs? And it’s not like I am even saying “this is better than that”. I am saying I DON’T LIKE EITHER OF THEM BECAUSE POLITICIANS ARE ALL SOCIOPATHS.

Except for Trey Gowdy, I’m pretty sure he’s just a straight shooter who’d make an absolutely wondermous president.

Yeah, yeah, for someone who hates politics, I reference it alot these days. It’s like puking up what’s been forcefed to me.

That being said…I am gonna go back to watching Flashpoint and wait to hear how my uncle’s surgery went. And lucky me, I have a three cat concerto going on here of Lemmy, Sylvester, and Cleopatra noisily grooming themselves. Or cannibalizing their own flesh.

Weird ass cats.


LIKE This Post Or A Puppy Will Get A Tumor

Posted in social media with tags , , , , , on October 24, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

So…for once I am not gonna rant or wax philosophical about mental health issues.

Today I want to address how we, as human beings, have been reduced to vapid “like” clicking social media mongers.

I want to point out all of the wonderful posts and articles on the web that are heartfelt, humorous, intelligent…And are lucky to get five likes, let alone the luxury of a comment.

I cannot tell you how many times I have been INFURIATED  by seeing such good posts, so well written, yet so ignored. Meanwhile some jackass posts a picture of their penis shaped pancake and gets 300 likes. Or some guy with thousands of followers who claims to understand depression yet basically shoves “suck it up” down your throat…And people clamor to click like, comment, and even promote that blog on their own pages.

Blinding hot rage fills my veins. Not out of jealousy. Out of disgust that such inanity passes for “good content”.

This has been brewing for months with me but came to a head last week. After weeks of R posting to Facebook all these brilliant historical quotes (albeit meant to bolster Trump) and receiving maybe five likes or comments…

One day his buddy takes a picture of R sitting on the step smoking a cigarette and looking up parts on his phone. By the next day, it has over 25 likes. OF A PICTURE OF SOMEONE USING A SMART PHONE.

Because ya know, omg, that is such an abnormality in this day and age where smart phones have become an extra appendage.

Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy a click of the “like” button, but I am writing from the heart here, pouring out my soul, sharing my weaknesses. I EARN that like for putting forth the effort to be honest. I honestly wish I’d get more comments because feedback is the only way I know whether my writing is resonating or not.

Lazy America (sans though simply too shy or whatever to do more than click like) just read a few lines, click like, and move along. I have over 700 alleged followers and average maybe 7 likes a day, two comments if I am lucky.

But allow me to post a picture of my phallic shaped potato I have in the kitchen and I could go viral.

Does this make any sense to anyone with a working brain?

People are fickle and shallow at times. And technology has made it worse. I hate someone coming over to my house allegedly for a movie then spending the entire time on their damned smart phone.

INANITY is worse than INSANITY.

So please…If you do indeed like my writing and it resonates…Click that like button. Comment because ya know, those rumors about me eating the souls of infants therefore being too scary to converse with are blown out of proportion.

Like this post or puppies will get tumors.

Nah. I love puppies.

Besides. I am fairly sure most of America already has tumors from liking pictures of vegetables shaped like body parts. What else could explain such…vapidity?

This post was approved by Morgue and she stands by it 100% percent. Go Tweet what a wacko I am.

Far be it for me to risk puppies getting tumors.


Scumbag Brain Strikes Again

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , , on October 23, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

I stayed up until 11 pm last night, forcing myself to battle that nagging part of my depression that insists bad things will happen if I don’t lay down under the covers by 9:30 p.m.

So there I lay, fortified by my 3mg Xanax taken throughout the day, determined not to take any more or even pop a melatonin. I mean, my reserve was steely. This inability to sleep on my own was what made me come off all the sleepers the doctors gave me. I hated the dependence, and the morning hangovers. No more. Yet every time I get into a depressive insomniac lull…I break.

I made it FOUR hours last night before I broke. I almost dozed off but when I went to turn over, my bladder reminded me if I didn’t tend to its needs now, it’d wake me less than an hour and make me do it then. So I tended to that and went back to bed. By then…the swirling thoughts were back, all those counting and breathing exercises for an hour for naught. I was frustrated as hell.

So I tossed and turned. Put on my sleep mask as sometimes it’s a routine/comfort thing. I huddled under the covers, pet the purring cats…I counted more. I did breathing.

One a.m. Two a.m. Then as I nodded off…Bladder time again. (Don’t drink as much water as I have been, it’s a killer on the bladder.) So up again. Back to bed. Swirling thoughts. And while often my night time swirly thoughts are not all bad…Thinking about if I could just get some rest, I could get up and tackle some of the shit around the house that needs done.

Three a.m. Nothing.

Four a.m. Knowing I would be facing a day of shrieking kids….Not chance to nap or recharge.

And so I took a 3 mg melatonin.

It kicked in within an hour.

Then the bladder beckoned at 5 a.m. So I had to get up and it was cold so I was wide awake and the mind was spinning again.

Mercied myself with another melatonin.

Only to rudely be awakened at 7 a.m. by my kid’s friend pounding on our door. I thought by the third knock and no answer, she’d go away. Instead, she kept knocking and bellowing for my kid. We were both still in bed, ffs. I ignored her. I am at wits’ end with that child. She’s only 4 but her parents should damn well know you don’t send your kid for a playdate at 7 a.m.

After that I mostly lulled in bed til 9, awake but too leaden to rise.

Now it is noon, I have a yard full of kids, and so far, I’ve accomplished only putting away half my summer clothes and digging out some warm clothes. Focus eludes me even with Adderall. I want my Focalin back and if I could ever gather my thoughts, I’d write my insurance company a strongly worded letter telling them how their refusal to pay for the ONE med that actually helps is hindering my life.

To top it all off with the true act of humiliation…Shark week arrived with a vengeance and I ran out of lady products, have no cash to my name, and had to call my sister to see if she had some to spare. 43 years old and I can’t even afford basic hygiene products. Fucking pathetic.

Probably why I have dreams about this old game show called Supermarket Sweep. The goal was to run around with the cart getting the highest price items for a higher grand total than your opponent. In my dream…I forget the expensive meats and stuff and start  piling in paper towels, toilet paper, cleaning products, all the basics that I never seem to have enough of. It’s a weird dream but a bit indicative of what it was like for me growing up. Sure, we had what was necessary for survival but so often we had so little…I guess it caused me to become a supply hoarder back when I had money. Now that I have no money to stock up…I live in fear of running out of things.

Why oh why can’t I have a normal dream about, I don’t know, being on an exotic island with a frilly umbrella drink and a hot cabana boy rubbing lotion on my skin?

Okay. End of Rant.

Now for a funny pic of my 7 year old revisiting her toddler years.

1022161550-00Oh, and the t-shirt I want for Christmas, which I think all of the tribe’s Volatile Femmes should have as well cos it’s true.