Archive for November, 2016

Moody Blues

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , , on November 16, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

I knew yesterday when I had a midmorning nap (45 whole mins) that the curse was coming. I don’t nap during the day even when I get little sleep at night. Every month when the curse comes…I have a morning or two where I get super sleepy, weak, and simply can’t fight it.

And today, bam, hello, mother nature, you fucking bitch.

Which puts into perspective Sunday night’s fireworks with texting chihuahua. I wasn’t belligerent, I was pre-menstrual. And until a man has been put into that position with raging hormones that have you feeling Hulk angry one minute and fragile and tear ridden the next…. YOU DON’T GET AN OPINION OR JUDGMENT. This is, in addition to the cramps and backache, is a living hell I go through every month. Thank you, menstrual dysphoria.

Throw in bipolar, seasonal depression, and out of control anxiety…Yeah, the fact I’ve never assaulted anyone is the miracle here.

I have not returned a single text from the chihuahua since Monday. First it was my bank’s text alerts going bonkers, sending me 24 alerts in 12 hours. Finally, I got so sick of their technical glitch, I just put my text alert on silent. Then forgot I put it on silent. So then I find four texts from him and I know no matter what I say, he will make some snark about “excuses, excuses”. Frankly, I am tired of feeling like a kicked dog by this person. I thought he was bad before he became a Trump Crumpet…Oh, this shit has turned him into an unlikable unreasonable monster.

Which means I need space and distance. And I would ask that of him but the last time I did, he got all pissed off and started lording all the stuff he’s done for me over my head. Which made me feel shitty, like I could never just ask for one day break without having to worry about ordering his parts or keeping him company while his other friends are busy or his wife is away working. I let the man bully me, turn me into a fear ridden mouse. Even while defending my views or calmly saying “let’s agree to disagree”…he was still being a bully. I really hate to cut all ties and lose his friendship (he was sane before the Trump bullshit) and I do not want to lose his wife’s friendship but I’ve hit my wall. I’ve got enough on my plate with my kid and my mental shit.

So I avoid. Besides, the phone’s ringer has been on and calls have come in. Call me like a grown up instead of texting me like a teenager. It’s irritating. I may miss a call but I return them when I can. (He recently berated me for not answering his call even though I was busy cooking and got back within thirty seconds, but nooo, he’s not demanding or narcissistic at all, it’s just me.) I guess if I avoid long enough he will stop speaking to me. And it would be a blessing for my mental health and nerves. I just can’t stop feeling like a bad person. Like I am the mental case so it is indeed all my fault. Way to train me, society. Even when I am right, I am wrong.

This last week has sucked worse than  a Dyson vacuum. First, I try to reschedule the shrink appt they canceled. They say, we can’t get you into til February. Um, first come first served, sorry. I said, I need sooner, we were going to increase me meds. Are you having trouble right now? EVERY FUCKING FALL AND WINTER I FALL INTO A BLACK HOLE AND YOU PEOPLE ABANDON ME. I finally finagled a Jan 3rd appt, but the woman’s tone let me know what a pain in the ass I was being. Two hundred plus bucks he gets for 25 mins of his time and I’m the pain for wanting to see my doctor once a month rather once every three months.

The school sent home a paper the other day dictating that the lice problem has gotten so bad, ALL children are required to be treated with the chemicals and an empty treatment bottle must be returned with the kid on the day they report back for inspection. Needless to say, I went fucking ballistic. My kid has a bad reaction to all those chemicals and they never work whereas my mayo treatment and hours of nitpicking work fabulously. Rather than fire off an angry email or whatever, I stewed. And yesterday I called the pediatrician’s office and talked to a nurse who assured me the school cannot force me to use chemicals known to harm my child and that they would provide doctor approved alternate treatments and a note for the school.

This shit has gotten out of control, the intrusion of the schools into our parental rights. It still maddens me because even if your kid doesn’t have a bad reaction, you should not be forced to use chemicals no matter how safe they are said to be. It’s dictatorial. Not to mention, they demand these specific treatments, give one day to get the kid treated and inspected, and don’t even realize…some of us don’t have ten bucks laying around at any given time to buy all this crap to use for their standards. Because the super lice have arrived and are resistant to all these existing treatments, that is why the problem is worse. Not because ALL parents are too lazy to treat the kid, the family and the home.


To top off all this fun, last night…I had a possum. INSIDE MY HOUSE. The cats have once again unfastened the duct work under the place (which it was unfastened when I moved in so bullshit that it’s my fault for having cats) and a goddamn hissing possum got in and was eating out of the cat food dish, so cavalier. All I could think is it was rabid and could get my kid or cats. I chased it into the spare bedroom, grabbed a thick blanket and wrestled the fucker and gently dropped it out the window.

Damn it all to hell. It just gets worse instead of better. And since mention of the L word even though they supposedly checked all the kids and mine was cleared…I’ve been itching like a mofo everywhere and my kid has had me check her scalp and she’s had dandruff since she was an infant so of course she always has little flakes in her hair. It’s driving me mad, all the homework, and edicts, and rules. I want to home school her even if it drives me out of my mind because I am going there anyway, might as well be on my own terms instead of the powers that be.

Ya wanna know how bad this dysphoria is? The seasonal depression? I watched the new Flash this morning and kept thinking, I don’t like this. BUT I DO LOVE THE FLASH. What the actual fuck is going on with me?

To top off the week thus far…It looks like once Trump takes over, net neutrality is in a coffin. Which if you don’t understand the concept…The internet will no longer be free range. They can put you in the slow lane, like dial up, no recourse. They can bundle your favorite sites like cable channels and make you pay even more.

And don’t get me started on the abortion “women will just have to go to another state”.

I am currently bonkers due to hormone fluctuations  but it would infuriate me on any given day cos some things are just plain IGNORANT.

I am so not amused.

In fact, Monday I was feeling all weepy but then angry, but then fragile like I had a target on me and could barely fetch the kid from school with all the masses of shrieking brats. Like they were all going to attack me. Logically I know this is stupid. In my current state…Everyone and everything is a threat.

So for now I do nothing to deal with the chihuahua or anything else. I wait til the hormones die down and I return to my normal bipolar state of being bonkers. Today I have to drive 30 miles to get my kid to the dentist for fillings. That should be fun on my current anxiety streak.

That concludes this rant.

Ranting makes me feel  better. The question isn’t why do I rant on my blog…Question is, why doesn’t EVERYONE rant on a blog? Might be less violence in the world if people would get out their anger and grievances this way before reacting.

What do I know. I live with possums.

Freshly Stressed

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , , , on November 14, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

Tough night staying asleep. I woke pretty much every hour on the hour. I think it’s because I got six bizarre ranty texts from R on subjects I never even broached. Think he was both drunk and feverish with whatever ailment de jour his wife gave him. (And by the way, thanks fucker, for coming over with your illness and putting me and my kid into your petri dish range, thoughtful.) It’s hard enough for me to sleep but when you keep being wakened by disturbing pro Trump texts and topics you didn’t even mention…It’s distressing as hell. Every time I’d nod off, another would come in.

This election has changed people, and not for the better. R has always been arrogant and judgmental but until The Donald fiasco, aka our future as Americans, he never once called me stupid but reinforced how intelligent I am. For months now simply because I don’t like people with Trump-esque personalities and politics…He’s called me stupid, a moron, etc all. And I blame Trump’s spewing of hatred, it’s intoxicated otherwise smart, decent people. And frankly, I don’t know why I’ve become R’s whipping boy when in fact I’ve been quite vocal about HATING ALL POLITICIANS.

And all this came after a very tough day with my kid. She returned from her grandma’s with an “I can do whatever I want and I’m telling your mom and she’s gonna be mad at you” attitude. Because I said she had to wear  a sweater to play outside, brutal me. It went downhill from there. She hit me, I sent her little friend home. I tried talking to her. She hit, kicked, threw a remote at me, the droid, hit me some more. I gave her cool off time in her room, tried once again to talk calmly. Nope. She started making threats to call the cops and tell them what an abuser I am cos while defending myself from her hits, my fingernail scraped her.

Is it possible for a parent to be abused by a 7 year old? Because I am starting to feel like an abused spouse, only my tormentor is my kid. Nothing works with her. Not a swat on the butt, not time outs, not taking stuff away. Nothing works. She flips on a dime and I realize…she is what makes my life overly stressed and miserable. When she’s good, it’s all good. Even when she’s a little bad, it’s ok. But when she goes feral like she did yesterday and becomes violent…I feel like a prisoner. Call me weak, pathetic, remind me I am the adult and she is feeding off my fear and insecurity. Walk in my shoes then readjust the “I would never ‘let’ my kid get away with that” attitude.

But as I said…turn on a dime. She calmed down. We had reheated bow tie pasta for supper, I got her into the shower. Things were fine then. I had her clean out the cat boxes and she at least earned back her dvd player. But it’s gonna be awhile before she plays with friends or sees that droid again. Forget an allowance.

First thing this morning after me barely getting any solid sleep…She screamed at me because I dare suggest she wear warm clothes. No, those are ugly, you want me to look ugly. Then I told her she couldn’t wear tights as pants cos you can see through them and she tossed this little Shopkin thing at me…

I am starting to see why I am so stressed and down most of the time. The kid’s behavior is unacceptable. Especially when chances are, one little ADHD pill a day could fix it but none of the professionals or insurance companies will even listen to me on that matter. Saturday night, home alone, relaxing…Got a good night’s sleep (except for the waking up to cough out a lung and pound of sinus drainage). Sunday morning I had tea/coffee/conversation with Mr. M and Bex in chat room, it was lovely.

Then I did dishes, swept, vacuumed, took out trash, made the beds…My mood was good, I was semi calm.

Only to have it shattered by bringing back the one person I love most in the world who has turned me into an abused animal waiting for the next kick to my ribcage. And mind you, it’s not a fear of saying no and making her unhappy that makes me fearful. It’s all these threats to lie to the school and cops about how abusive I am. I mean, this day and age, that fingernail scrape, even if I was defending myself, could land me under DCF review. I am terrified not of the child so much but of the broken down system.

And then the R fiasco and I am sooo close to telling him to fuck off but I want to talk to Mrs R first, get some insight. Maybe I am just so stressed and seasonally depressed I am misinterpreting his zealous advocacy of a man he believes in…I am at least humble enough to question my own mental state and that maybe I could be wrong.

He was sickly last night and ordered me “answer your phone tomorrow in case I need to take off.” Um…I am not your damned servant. Especially after being called a moron for having my own views contrary to your own. It’s called being an adult and agreeing to disagree.

I am just…stressed. Overly stressed. And I see no relief in sight with the holidays coming up and money problems and family bullshit. Not to mention whatever disaster the new presidential regime will bring for those of us who are mentally ill. I expect a mass mailing of “no more disability checks, suck it up” letters. Maybe I am being all ‘the sky is falling’. Or maybe I, and millions of others, have a legit reason to be scared.

I hate having so much up in the air and coming at me.

On a better note…While my chat meet and greet was an epic failure, not one new visitor…I’d like to thank the usual suspects, Sass, Mr. Mumple, Bex, Ava, for stopping in and chatting. Means a lot to have people there to simply interact with on a level without judgment.

I think my purge is complete.

Now I am gonna go hork up my other lung and maybe  a pancreas. Can’t be too sick since it all clears by noon. Just like my dad’s same condition does.

Yay for Junk DNA.


How Am I Not In A Clock Tower Yet?

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , , on November 12, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

Life is robbing me of what sanity I retain and as usual…I must wonder why I’m not losing my shit, getting a gun, and climbing into a clock tower. Cos that’s what happens when the world pushes people too far, mental or not.

I guess state law prohibiting me from gun ownership due to a psych hospitalization (to treat a med reaction, ffs, totally dangerous person here) makes the gun part iffy. I suppose I could try the sling shot method 10K uses to take out zombies on Z Nation but with my lack of aim…maybe I should learn knife throwing. I have the knives stored properly.

knifeman(BTW, that knife holder is an $8 yard sale find, they retail for$40 and upwards, so glad I didn’t sleep late that day.)

No, I am not really feeling violent. Sometimes, frustration can make you ponder it, though. Throw in some PMS and high stress level…

Yesterday with the spawn was awful. I was actually looking forward to taking her to Pizza Hut to use her free pizza Book It certificate. Except she starts in at 7 a.m. Is it time yet? I’m starving. How much longer. Is it time yet? Make them open, Mommy!

Four hours of Uzi fire. Never ending yap yap yap.

Then we got to Pizza Hut. We ordered. Ten seconds later…I’m bored. I’m bored. This is boring. What can I do? I want money for the crane machine. You’re MEAN. She kept beebopping out of the booth, nearly tripping a couple of servers and buffet diners. I told her to sit down and sit still four times. Fifth time, satan voice comes out, which always results in horrified stares from those around me. I glare back and think, you didn’t hear all the times I softly requested she behave. Satan voice WORKS.

Food came. Rather than eat her pizza…She wanted all my breadsticks. I swear she’d take all my organs if she could. I shared but I didn’t give in completely.

Then we got caught in traffic just trying to make the three minute jump over to Dollar Tree.

Where she demanded everything in sight, whined when told no, kept asking, told her no, no, no, end of topic dot com.

Still she pushed. She didn’t listen. She pouted.

Satan voice came out. Oh, how the hordes stared at me in horror. If they only knew how patient I truly am until she pushes me over the edge.

And I was so pissed off, I glared back and didn’t even give a damn about their judgment. Everyone thinks my kid is a joy, she’s so sweet and vibrant and she gives them no problem. They don’t walk in my shoes where that sweet little angel hits and kicks and screams and wishes me dead.

Just ninety minutes out in the dish with her…Did me in.

Then she came home to play with Bella and they started bickering and tattling and I started subtracting money from Spook’s allowance. She caught on after she lost a dollar. Work it out on your own, don’t be a narc. They got along. Then Bella left and once again…I was responsible for entertaining Spook. She cannot be by herself one minute. She is so needy and demanding and nothing I do satisfies her for more than ten seconds.

And no, don’t try to sell me on this being normal kid behavior. A fraction of it is normal. Now that she’s raising her fist in her friends’ faces and hitting them…This is a problem child.

Stuck with a mother whose anxiety and irritation lessen the patience others are gifted with. I try so damned hard.

But then, my best isn’t good enough for anyone around me so why should it be for her.

Reeks of self pity, no? Really it’s not, just so damned hormonal and irked and frustrated.

At least I get bits of joy. Found this in my cabinet when I turned on the light. Nearly gave me  a coronary but then I just laughed.

shelfcatMr. Voodoo is a living breathing cat knick knack.

To add to my current misery…I was up half the night hacking up a lung, blowing my nose. Up and down, up and down. Five thirty I started to dose off. Six am, Spook decides it time to get up and stay up. So I downed some of the diabetic Tussin my dad gave me and it’s helping with the cough but damn, that shit tastes nasty.

So once again…If we mentally ill (disordered, diseased, whatever word does it for ya) are the dangers to society…and we are so weak and hopeless…

Why is it the seemingly innocuous sane people like Bundy, Dahmer, Clock tower sniper guy are the ones who just go batshit and do whatever horrid deed they want without feeling remorse?

Because there’s a difference between having a personality disorder and having a legit chemical imbalance. Get with the program, society. Or I will 10K your ass with a marble and sling shot. Prolly won’t hit you but…It’s the thought that counts.


Come by the chat room, for the love of pegacorn. Stay five minutes, promote your blog, tell me I’m an idget…I see all these blog meet and greets where you leave your url and a description of your blog and blah blah and dozens of people have time for that.

Is it me? I’ll eat a mint, use more deodorant, bake you a cake..Ok, maybe not a cake cos I don’t really do the Betty Crocker thing but…


Abstract black white snow texture on black background for overlay

Abstract black white snow texture on black background for overlay


Posted in biolar disorder, depression with tags , , , , , , , , on November 11, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

Abstract black white snow texture on black background for overlay



More Deviation Anxiety

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , on November 10, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

Me, who is normally ready for bed by 9 p.m. (thanks for sucking the life out of me with tantrums and demands, spawn) and unable to drag ass out of bed til 5 mins before I have to drive her to school…

Was up multiple times through the night, sending text msgs to my bank for  balance alerts.

Not that being up many times during the night is unusual, it’s my norm.

This time, however, it was with cause.

I recently got fed up waiting for our ass trash postal system to deliver the child support checks in a consistent fashion so I filled out the paper work to have it direct deposited to my debit account.

Now, my disability checks have been direct deposited for 8 years, no problem. But that’s FEDERAL.

Trusting my state government, one of the most infamously corrupt states not to mention inept, in the union…That was a leap for me. I just KNEW something would go wrong, leaving me and Spook up a shit creak.

Not even the text alert I received confirming my  next support check would be electronically deposited assuaged my anxiety. Because…deviation.

Just like every month I check my balance first thing to make sure the deposit went through on my disability check…I kept checking all night for the support deposit.

At 5 a.m. I sluggishly sent the text inquiry for my balance. And IT WAS THERE! Yayness. For once, it didn’t get botched.

BUT all the anxiety caused me to remain awake rather than enjoying two more hours of sleep so I was up at 5 a.m., watching Designated Survivor and drinking sweet tea. Not normal for me.

Every time my disability is reviewed and they ask stupid shit like “how does your condition impact your ability to function normally every day”…THIS. I want to point out shit like this. The anxiety. The depression. The exhaustion from when I do venture into the dish.

I can’t commit to planning a meal lest my mood crash or nerves get frazzled. So how am I supposed to tell any employer, oh, yeah, I am reliable and solid.

This mental shit, to my chagrin, does impact every facet of my live, including the ability to have a meal in public or go to a concert in spite of my love of music. (Last concert I went to was um…in the 90’s and it was with R to see Styx so it doesn’t even really count cos that was HIS thing and only many wine coolers got me thru it.)

I HATE that I am not always able to power through it all. That I have let my mind become my jailer. I fight with everything I got and it’s never enough for those around me. Now that Trump will be taking office, I worry that being so rich and judgmental, the first thing he’ll do is cut disability for people like me. Because mental illness isn’t real, we’re lazy freeloaders, blah blah.

I mean, I hear it several times a week from R, he’s always on about “people on wellfare” and “lazy people my taxes pay so they don’t have to work.”

Like that daily assault on the self esteem isn’t a high enough price to pay for a measly disability income.

Point of this diatribe is…

Every tiny thing impacts my “normal” existence and it is no affectation, no weakness of character.

I can no more will myself mentally healthy than a diabetic can skip insulin and convince their blood sugar levels to behave.

Until the world at large grows a brain and comprehends this fact…

Mental healthcare will never improve and we will always be pariahs.

Which in my opinion just shows who the truly mentally fucked up people are. Because part of being mature and intelligent is having empathy and a willingness to understand.

Things we with mental issues already have.

So…who’s really mentally disadvantaged? Us, fighting with all our might, taking pills, doing therapy, doing every damn thing to get better…

Or the so called social elite normals who can’t grasp the concept of mental illness because half are sociopaths without a conscience.


Vaguely Amused

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , , on November 9, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

I didn’t stay up to see how the election turned out. R was here until almost 9 tracking it and by then, my brain hurt and fort blankie beckoned. Besides…I knew no matter the time he’d revert to texting chihuahua mode and let me know.

I am neither a fan of Clinton or Trump. But after seeing so many interviews of her caught in blatant lies and stories of her tantrums…

I’m vaguely amused at the turn of events. At least Trump is up front about being a misogynist racist jackass. At this point the only thing he could do to shock me would be to, ya know, turn out to be a decent human being and president and follow through on all his promises to make this country great again.

That being said…My kid is convinced a youtube video she saw said Trump wants to take away McDonald’s and was all freaking out this morning. WTF? Vaguely amused by it all, it’s gonna get interesting.

And R was warned repeatedly if Mr. Rich Pants Trump fucks with the disability system and I end up with no income…Spook and I WILL be coming to live with him and Mrs. R. Because for me, being able to support my kid takes precedence over a fucking wall that will only keep a portion of illegals out. Oh, and the abortion thing…Don’t get me started.

No, I did not vote, so I don’t get a say.

Not voting my entire life is my way of giving the “man” the finger. I won’t be fooled into thinking my vote matters because I was actually awake in 8th grade history class and know how the electoral college votes tend to trump (ha ha, unintended pun) all. And I promise that concludes my taboo talk of politics.

My mental state has been static. No mega ups or downs but no dancing in the streets. My kid is back to her mood swinging lashing out tantrums and that has the anxiety on hyperdrive. She told me yesterday she was going to kill me, wanted me dead, hates me, threatened to throw a ball through the windshield and make us wreck…all because I didn’t have a dollar to give her to buy a piece of candy at school. Seriously, Spook? So she is droid blocked for a week. A week without youtube videos and shopkins games might get thru to her.

Ha ha ha.

My allergies and sinus problems are making me more miserable than anything. I can’t afford Alavert, which is the only shit that really works. Spook and I went thru a 48 count box in less than 3 months because we’re both so allergy laden. I am sick of hacking and drowning in phlegm and being tied to a tissue box. Geesh. Never used to be this bad and I know age makes thing worsen but…I maintain the spawn rearranged my innards and stole some of my kick ass immune system thus weakening me to pissy little things like  sinus drainage.

On another note…For all who thought the chat room was a good idea…GHOST TOWN. I realize we all have schedules and lives and better things to do. Well, you all do, I  much prefer sitting in a chat room to living in the icky petri dish. Still…if no one comes, it’s not much of a chat room. And it really sucks because I am there 3/4 of the time but the ONE time I have to be gone…Someone will pop in and no one is there so everyone thinks,meh, this is lame, why bother.

Please please please…Stop by on occasion. Not that I am desperate or anything cos I am totally not leaving Freshly Depressed, it is a far superior way to keep in touch with Bex than useless programs like Skype. Just…give it a try. When you can.

Or a pegacorn will get a tumor.

(Not really.)

(I don’t think so.)

(Well…Trump won so anything is possible.)


Dedicated To My Followers And Friends

Posted in Uncategorized on November 4, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

Yeah, yeah, I am a heavy metal girl.

But the lyrics of the song say more eloquently how I feel for you all than my stunted brain ever could.\

Have  a listen and know…you all are fuckin’ perfect to me.              pink perfect