Archive for December, 2016

Twas The Day After Christmas….

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , on December 26, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

And I feel like my ass has been kicked by Andre the Giant.

I survived the family shindig. Christmas Day was just me and Spook at home. Quiet, calm, no drama. Obligatory calls to wish the parents well.

Today…I feel hungover. Minus the booze. This is the norm for me every year. I can feign my way through joy. The psychological cost is astronomical.

Tis a warmish sunny day and Spook is outside playing with the devil girls.

I feel like I was embalmed alive.

(The kids’ gleeful shrieking is setting off my panic receptors but another Xanax will make me zonk out. Odd since at night I still need melatonin to sleep.WTF?)

On the plus side, there was no family drama X Mas Eve. We all got along well. As usual, my chicken noodles were a hit. I made a HUGE kettle with 4 packs of noodles and by nights’ end…only broth was left. Least I got something right.

Is it just me or does anyone else suffering bipolar depression feel so tapped out and drained after the hellidays even if everything went fairly well?

It makes me feel like a wussy.

So in spite of all the housework that needs done…It can wait til I bounce back from this trip down the rabbit hole.

Sooo…do tell. How was YOUR holiday? Even if all went well…Do you feel hungover as if you went on a week long bender?

Or is it just me?

And does anyone else find no matter how much the bright ass sunlight sorta lifts the mood…yet sets off the panic and sense of paranoia and danger?

I used to say, “so many freaks, so few circuses.”

How the hell did I end up being the ringmaster? And where are my damned tigers to play with and train to maul cockweasels?

Satan, er, Santa doesn’t always bring you what you want, kids.

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The Enigma That Is Bipolar Depression

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , on December 23, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

Hollywood, to an extent, has glamorized bipolar disorder, inasmuch as portraying only manic episodes or screaming semi psychotic episodes. While there may not be much entertainment in months long depressions, it is a part of what bipolar axis 2 amounts to. Throw in seasonal affective depression and it’s an even less entertaining but no less real.

The other day, be it hormones or whacked out brain chemicals, I simply could not bring myself to function beyond the bare minimum. Child and cat care. I risked a friendship because I simply was not in my right mind.

Yesterday I was forced into functionality to make sure we had food and my kid has xmas gifts. My mood wasn’t great but I was functioning and I wasn’t in menstrual pain anymore. I even went out for food and drinks with Mrs. R in the evening while my kid was at my mom’s.

Today I am functioning, not feeling too awful, but also…nowhere near optimal. It’s a resigned sort of peace. Knowing a couple more days and this helliday nonsense will be over. For another year, at least.

So I burned some bridges this week, took my lumps, came to amends.

No matter how many years I  battle bipolar depressions, I never really come to understand them. I know the signs, the  lows, the distorted thoughts. I just never understand what “triggers” it.

Because society insists there be a trigger, be it lack of sunlight, poor diet, lack of exercise, the stars aligning with satan’s pentagram, whatever…They even have mental health programs that teach “self discipline” for bipolar sufferers.

I don’t even know what to do with that.

It’s flies in the very face of the disorder. NONE of us would discipline ourselves to be vulnerable to highs or lows. We fight with all we’ve got. We take the crappy meds. We talk to professionals til we’re  blue in the face. We try to structure our lives into some semblance of order in spite of our chaotic brains.

Self discipline? Akin to telling a diabetic to “think” their blood sugar into the appropriate level.

I am not saying we are not to take any responsibility and let our disorder ravage us. But if our disorder really is a disorder…how much control are we actually in when required to take medication?

I dunno. It’s a conundrum. Wrapped in a riddle.

What I have come to realize is that, my moods determine a lot of my actions even when I fight  them tooth and nail. Especially the menstrual dysphoria that turns me into practically a whole different person. Its impact has become destructive yet doctors and society treat is as one more thing to suck up.

It is so destructive that every month I end up feeling like a monster for the 10 days I am plagued with pms then actual shark week. When my reactions are all wrong, too many tears, too much anger, lack of ability to function outside  my bubble. People get the wrong idea, think I am cold and unfeeling.

Yet I am watching this show where this utterly horrid man was killed and only ONE person bothered to attend his memorial. ONE person. Maybe it was karma, and yeah, it’s fiction…But I feel badly for him. Even I could probably muster a half dozen mourners.

So if I am able to feel empathy for a character who I otherwise found repulsive…I think whatever distortions I am subject to…my heart is still in the right place. Even when my head is up my ass.

McMuggled

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , on December 22, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

Tuesday I did my groveling/earning of gas money by running a few errands for R. I felt pretty secure in doing so since his wife is home for holiday break. Little did I know she was out of town and he invited himself over. Ha. NO NO NO. Not during the curse. I cannot deal with people, especially men, when my hormones are running riot and telling me I am angry or terminally sad at random moments.

Sure enough, it all went south. He brought something with him he was fixing, handed me this little piece, and told me to find it on line under some random search term. When I failed…He whipped out, “You are off your game these days. Once you would have found that piece in five minutes without all these excuses…”

BAM!

I damn well know I am off my game. I know I am circling the goddamn drain. Cue the waterworks and sobbing. HUMILIATION complete. He tried to be comforting. Even said he would come to my next shrink appt with me to tell the doctor just how not well I am doing.

That was wonderful. Until I realized it hinged on me coming in the next day to do his bidding. Lovely. You agree I am falling apart but instead of stepping back and giving me some space, you make me jump through more hoops, thus increasing my stress.

Needless to say…I failed in an epic way yesterday. I had cramps so bad, was teary, I took a Xanax cos I was panicking for no reason other than meeting demands I have no resources for. I fell asleep. Then came his WTF text. Then a call. And I said I was trying to hobble that way, and I was, I even put on real pants. But the cramps just got worse even with pain killer and I was shivering so I got into Fort blankie, put the phone on vibrate, and literally could not move. I was awake two hours before I even managed to smoke a cigarette.Four hours before I even opened the laptop and checked email.

Now if I struggle that much even with my own normal activities and loves…How can I be expected to meet everyone else’s demands?

And why can’t he get it thru his thick skull?

I felt awful, of course. Epic fail of a human being. But Spook and I were in bed before 8:30 because I was just tapped out and in pain and…

This morning, she bounded out of bed without the usual “i’m tired” tirade of screaming. Parties for Xmas at school today. She was excited. I managed to drag my ass out of bed and get her there for breakfast at 7:35, only to realize…she’d failed to brush her hair. FFS. Oh, well, I am  a shit mom. I can’t say more than I told her to brush it and she did not do it. Least she was wearing her glasses and her shoes were on the right feet?

I gifted myself with a pack of smokes since the child support deposit came in. I am in pain still, and the cramps have moved to my spine, so all these plans I had for Xmas shopping may as well be same as facing a firing squad. I have no holiday spirit. None.

I did feel enough guilt about blowing off R yesterday to send him an apology text asking for time to get myself sorted. No reply, but considering I ignored five calls and a text from him yesterday…He has the right to be pissed and shut me out.

It’s got to be bad when you’re so ill physically and mentally that you’d risk an important friendship.

It hurts more to fail a friend than all the times I called in sick to legit jobs even tho I knew I’d be fired.

I HATE this shit. Every month even when doing well this menstrual dysphoria and pain kicks my ass, making me unreliable and unlikeable.

The seasonal depression…Ugh.

So here I sit, knowing all I need to accomplish and with zero will to do so. Feeling guilty for being such a wuss, knowing full well I am anything but a wuss yet the world, including my own family and friends, view me as not trying hard enough to beat this depression.

Sorry, folks. I am not a machine..I am coping best I can.

Bipolar depression. The gift that keeps on taking.

I wish someone would take it from me.I could live happily ever after without it.

I, Me, I, Me

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

The donor first coined the snarkastic “I,Me,I,Me” to describe our former roommate, who, indeed was a self centered narcissist. At the same time, he cornered me into feeling any time I used the word “I” or discussed myself or my issues, I was somehow this self absorbed monster. Honestly, what else can I discuss that I know fuck all about BUT myself? Does this truly make me self centered?

Zero fucks are now given. MY blog. I,me, I, me. This is my life, this is what has been going on in it that has kept me from posting for this long.

Last Monday I was due at the shop. I used sick kid excuse even tho my kid was fine and at school. Bad me. If the world would just accept “Depression is kicking my ass and paranoia has me too scared to go out”, I wouldn’t need to be a liar, liar, pants on fire.

Tuesday and Wednesday, in spite of PMS and depression, I put in penance at the shop to make up for my little lie. Except on Wednesday I was dispatched to get lunch at McDonald’s drive thru…AND some lady in this big assed pick up truck who apparently can’t drive stick shift even better than I can (and I can’t) RAMMED me in the bumper. I heard her scream “son of a bitch!” so I knew it was an accident. I shut the car off and got out, knowing full well I was not at fault and I had nothing to fear. Fortunately there was no damage to either vehicle or her or me and I just said, “No harm done” got my food and drove away with a “merry christmas”. She told me I was being such a sweetie. Meh. No need getting cops and insurance companies involved when there was no damage.

Thursday I was at the shop (does penance ever end???) and the school called me to get my kid, she had bad stomach cramps. (See, karma, use sick kid excuse, you get a sick kid.) I figured it was gas, brought her home. After an hour of her screaming, I took her to Prompt Care. The doctor spent less than sixty seconds with her and said it could be constipation or her appendix, I better take her to the ER.

So there we went. And the screaming continued and still we sat in the waiting room a half hour. Then another half hour while vitals and all were checked and the kid is wailing.

I guess that is where the true “I,me,I,me” self centered thing came into play. I was resentful of having to be at that damned hospital and wait and be all anxious and pms-y. Plus I smelled bad, looked awful, and my kid didn’t want my comfort at all. So I became brooding.

The longer it took, the worse I got mood wise, to the point of fury. Pee test, X-ray, blood draw (four of us to hold her down) and more of her agonized wailing. Then the wailing stopped as she nodded off after a dose of Tylenol. It was at that point I snapped out of my own self obsessed bubble and realized…omg, this child could truly be sick, she could need surgery. My kid is never quiet and she fell asleep in the middle of all that pain?

So there I am, back to her first couple of years, where I was so scared she’d stop breathing for no reason, I am putting my ear close to her chest and my fingers near her nose to make sure she is breathing.

And that was when realization struck. I hadn’t had a xanax in almost 15 hours, no wonder I was agitated. Throw in the hospital loathing and PMS…I was not being a terrible self absorbed monster of a mom. I just needed my medicine. Fortunately, I carry some in my purse. Pill on board, I began to calm down.

Except then the family practitioner (she never did see an actual doctor) came back and said the X Ray was blocked by her constipated bowel and they need to do a contrast. They brought in this 32 ounce cup of Jonestown looking Kool Aid stuff and insisted she drink it all within an hour.

My heart sank. I had to cajole and promise sweets and cheer her on and finally, she finished it. Then we waited another ninety minutes for her Cat scan of the belly.

Then another hour for someone to read it.

Then a half hour to be told…she is constipated and the only thing that will help is to change her diet and “untrain” her from keeping herself from going to the bathroom. WTF? I didn’t know you could train yourself not to “go”. Fuck if I could train myself to never pee again, I would, it is a waste of my time.

One thing I know..It’s sure as fuck cos I don’t grant her access to use a bathroom when needed. If she is doing this to herself, it’s by her own design or because of the school’s draconian bathroom break policies where kids lose points if they ask to go more than the two allotted times. That is cruel and unusual.

So seven and a half hours in the ER and we come home and she is still hurting. But I was relieved because I was terrified she was going to need surgery.

Friday I called her off school as the contrast stuff , as warned, was causing her to have runny messes in her pants. In the course of moving some stuff to the laundry room…one of the cats pawed up the heat grate (no screws so they are not fastened down) and my leg went right down to the bottom of the vent work.

1220160858-00Inner leg.

1220160858-01outer leg.

Saturday we woke up to 2 degrees and everything coated in thick ice. Ha ha, not going anywhere in that shit. My dad stopped by and asked if we needed anything from the store. I said, sure, a bit of milk, a jar of pasta sauce, and a pound of hamburger so we could have spaghetti. He griped, “That’s expensive stuff, hamburger.” Yet they had my sister with them, taking her to Aldi, to buy enough food for 8 people for a week!!!! Nice to know where I stand in the pecking order.

Seeing him made my mood crash, then everything seemed to start going awry. Little shit that amounts to nothing but still feels like “dish dweller appears, bad shit happens” whammy.

Sunday was negative 3 and still the ice rink on my windshield. They canceled school for Monday at 1 pm on Sunday, if that tells you how bad it was.

Monday I battled my way to defrost the car glass and chisel and scrape…All the while worried about running all the gas out of it. And it did, I am gonna have to go grovel at the chihuahua’s feet just to have enough gas to get her to school til Thursday. AWESOME.

But I was relieved it was done cos I don’t do mornings so saving it til the next day would have been worse. We made a quick trip to Aldi.

Which brings  me to my next dilemma. Due to the remodel, Aldi will be closing Dec 31 and not reopening til late February. WTF? That leaves me only TWO places to get actual meat and stuff and if anyone tells me how cheap Walmart is, I will smack them with a rotting mackerel. Compared to Aldi, Walmart is three times more costly and don’t even mention the preppy people grocery store.

ARGHHHH

I still have no tree up. I have bought Spook only  a few gifts I ordered on line from Five Below. I have arranged for mom to keep her Thursday night so I can do a little shopping and wrapping. I have zero enthusiasm for it. I want it over with.

To add to my humiliation…Due to not being able to get out for almost three days…I got my curse and had to ask my stepmonster to bring me pads. Not the first time but always so humiliating.

Life just keeps on giving. Not in a good way.

I try to focus on the good things. Heat, shelter, purring kitties, kid that’s on the mend…

Yet every day just brings another punch to the gut.

I finally did get the shrink to call me. He raised my Pristiq by 50 mg even tho it is not recommended. He was all like, why are you so depressed…UM, every fucking winter and Christmas, duh!!!SEASONAL. And always with the damn sun lamps, as if that does fuck all.

Today my kid is at school and may she stay there because I am so tapped out…I need a day of me time. I, me, I, me. Selfish Morgue.

Still, zero fucks given.

I am trying. I see a lot of parents with less to deal with do way worse than I am doing so…there is that.

Still…the desire to curl up in fort blankie and tell the worst to fuck off and die…is pretty appealing.

Pile It On

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

So let me discuss the week from hell that has had me too rattled to even write here.

Last week, our furnace went out. I am talking “see your breath in the air” out. We bundled up and under but it was miserable. Worse was, I had a brief window where I *might* have been able to get a guy here to check it out…But of course, that day scumbag brain kept telling me I could not have anyone invade my safe space, the house is a mess, they will take my kid away, they will lock me up…I was paralyzed by all these distorted thoughts that felt so very real and threatening.

On Monday, after two calls to the landlord, the heat got fixed. BUT not before I got a call from the dean of students. My kid was telling everyone we had no heat and they assumed I’d failed to pay my bill and gotten shut off. Wanna know what sends bolts of terror into a parents’ heart? “We’re not going to turn you into DCF, we just thought we could offer resources if you need help.”

Ok, panic sufferers…What part of that would have smacked you upside the head first, logic be damned?

DCF.

I explained it was just the furnace being out and I was waiting on the repair guy but still…Freaked me out.

On Tuesday…the school sent her home with pink eye. I took her to prompt care and in addition to pink eye, she has an outer ear infection. The doctor insists it is from poking Q tips in there, she swears she did not do that. I know I don’t use them except for make up and I’ve told her a thousand times not to use them but I guess I need to lock up all cotton products lest she start eating cotton balls.

So to the pharmacy for ear drops (four each ear, twice a day) and eye drops (two drops each ear every four hours.) One of the medications, while paid for by her kidcare thru the state, was $195. For something smaller than  a dollar store bottle of Visine. FFS.

On top of all this, I have the texting chihuahua wanting his shit tended to. He even got snarky cos I told him I could not watch a  movie and have ritas last night cos it was my kid’s Christmas program. He started in on how can they keep her out of school but let her go the program, yea, uh-huh. Like I was lying. So I shot back “I quit, my kids comes first even if it inconveniences you.”  Then I got the “oh, I was just joking, don’t get so bent, call me later” text.

Nope.

This morning the spawn channeled Satan because I wouldn’t let her wear her high heels from last night’s program. 25 minutes of her kicking, bawling and screeching YOU DON’T WANT ME TO BE PRETTY. I had to fight to get her ear and eye drops in her, all the while terrified she will go to school and claim abuse.

Oh and the teacher finally returned the ADHD assessment. Apparently my kid is a perfectly normal child at school whose only issues are claiming she feels unloved and unwanted “very often”.

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

I don’t know what else I can do to make her feel loved  because nothing is ever enough. And she is so dramatic she is still whining about being laughed at in gym two weeks ago cos she farted and thus she has no friends and everyone hates her. What am I supposed to do with this?

At the end of my rope, I called my shrink’s office today. He is out, as usual. I got the nurse who stared spewing about the sun lights curing my depression and I had to get a little irked just to get across that I NEED HELP.

I am so damned frustrated and fed up. Life just keeps piling it on and people wonder why I look so tired, so disheveled, so defeated. HELLO?

Today I have to take her for a follow up with the nurse practitioner to make sure her ear is healing. God forbid I don’t do every tiny specific thing I am told because obviously my kid’s only problem is I am a bad mother.

Which I buy as much as I buy the cockweasel mainstream masses saying mental illness is something you can “snap out of.”

I am a decent mom and I do my best and ya know, sometimes kids just their own mental baggage. I did at her age. I didn’t like sharing my best friend with the other girls cos I felt left out and unliked.

Now I wait for the call or knock cos some well meaning assclown will decide my kid having some social issues is me being an inept parent. I am sure the high heeled shoes fiasco of this morning will be reported as some sort of assault.

So for now I am going back to binge watching ER and chain smoking and just try not think about all the bullshit dragging me under. Because there is more to come for the holidays and if I don’t take some much needed vegetative town…

It could end up being silent night, deadly night for my family. GRRRRRR.