Archive for September, 2017

The A Word

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , on September 30, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Yep. Another post involving The A Word. The dreaded anxiety. Free floating today. I don’t know why, perhaps hangover the week in the petri dish even if it was a shorter week thanks to many appointments for my kid and me. (My kid and I? Whatever.) Still, it was a trying week just the same, possibly because while the appointments got me out of the shop, I was actually dealing with other, far more public and populated places. It definitely took a toll.

Fortunately, not so much as to cripple me today. Still managed to drag my ass for a couple of yard sales (in part due to my kid’s relentless nagging, I think without it, I probably would have said forget about it.) We also went to three different stores for various household supplies. By the last store, I was at the end of my rope with traffic and noise and people. Especially a tense moment at the last place, which had nothing whatsoever to do with me. Some woman jumped this dude who came in on a motorcycle and I guess he was going too fast and almost ran into her and her little girl. As I have renumerated, I don’t handle confrontation at all, even when it’s nothing to do with me. I seriously thought these two were going to come to blows and it set off every panic receptor in my body. FLIGHT, FLIGHT, FLIGHT. Sadly, I’ve got too little fight left in me except for the big picture stuff. Survival and all.

There has been the added drama of my kid’s social life. First I get a note from S’s mom asking if S can stay the night with Spook, she has no phone anymore so we have to write notes. So I said okay, after 5 p.m. so I can get some stuff done. Then came the devil girls (they are oddly now allowed to play with my kid since I became the neighborhood spokesperson, getting all the kids back on the school bus route) and of course, my kid can’t play with more than one or 2 at a time and there was drama. Name calling. Thievery. S doesn’t want to stay now, and I guess she told her mom to say no and that upset my kid, who then said she didn’t want S to stay, she wanted the devil girls. I have no idea what is going on now. I will stand by my word if S does show up to stay, but otherwise…Enough fucking drama. My nerves don’t need it.

I am stressing because our kittens, Adelitas and Sachel, will not start eating solids and their shitty mom Cleo has declared them weaned and refuses to feed them. I got Kitten Chow, moistened it with water, with warm milk. They aren’t interested and I am terrified they are going to starve themselves. So I’ve taken to using a medication syringe to feed them tiny bits of the Nutri-gel, in hopes it will stimulate their appetite while nourishing them. I don’t want to lose my two little Manx kitties. Well, Sachel is a bobtail but Addy is pure Manx, not even a nub of a tail. Beautiful, sweet lil babies.

I was further distressed by a visit from stepmonster. That beast had to the nerve to gush to me how their neighbor’s car broke down so they loaned her one of their 5 vehicles. Yet these people couldn’t lift a finger when my last 3 cars went belly up. Can’t help their own fucking family, but help a damned neighbor they’re not related to. And oh, supposedly it’s cos she’s a single mom with a toddler but I know the fucking truth. It’s because she has a job and with my dad, that’s all that has ever mattered. You don’t work, you’re dirt. It doesn’t matter the reason. You could be in a coma and he’d expect you to have a job. More than being hurt, it just pissed me off. They didn’t give a damn when I was stranded, with their granddaughter and they had extra vehicles. I haven’t had any sort of accident or speeding ticket in 25 years. Last ticket I had was when Spook was an infant and it was for a stupid seatbelt violation. It’s not like I’m a terrible driver. They’re just fucking rude and cruel.

I may have my issues with my mom and sister’s zoo-esque lifestyle living together like a commune but when I had no car, my mom came through letting me have back the one I gave her, then giving me the old one Dad had passed onto hers. I just don’t get my dad and stepmonster sometimes. Everyone seems to like them but the way they treat me and Spook is rather monstrous. They’re still taking food to my mom and sister’s crew (they usually make my sis clean their house to earn it, but they don’t offer me that option, because stepmonster prefers my sister’s cleaning to mine and hey, fair enough, whatever) but mom and sis have triple the income I have, they get food stamps, and still, Dad helps them out more than us.

And don’t think my kid, even at 8, hasn’t noticed how little the whole family helps us while helping the other side so much. “I’m sorry you’re not Grandpa and Grandma’s favorite child, Mom.” FFS. Do these people not see how that belittles me in my child’s eyes? Of course, it doesn’t much impact her opinion of them, because hey,sometimes they take her places or buy her stuff or in my mom’s case, she shovels 4 cupcakes her way every other hour. What’s to not like when you’re 8.

The saving grace is that I have long been an outside in my own family, i’m pretty used to it. And taking any help from my dad’s faction is akin to taking out a loan from a loanshark, even when you’re paid up, you’re still having it held over your head. Not worth it.

I was also treated from two seperate sides on donor sightings around town. I don’t know why they bother, I don’t care if the man lives or dies. Hopefully he lives in agony until he’s a hundred as punishment for abandoning all 3 of his kids and blaming the moms instead of owning his own asshole-i-ness. Someone swears they saw him working at a gas station here in town. Well, good for him, maybe the state will enforce the child support at some point. He was also spotted at the hospital and frankly, I hope he has an STD. Yeah, I’m evil. And I barely think of the man until people start bringing him up and of course, they’re all outraged at his shitty treatment of Spook and the fact he blames it all on me. As stepmonster pointed out, he saw her and dad with Spook out in public multiple times and he didn’t even cast a longing look to his child, he actually turned away, didn’t even attempt to talk to her. And she was with them, so he can’t play the “Niki will start a scene, that crazy bitch” card.

In some cases, it’s less denial and more apathy that keeps me feeling less…volatile and spiteful. If I don’t hear about him, I forget he even exists for the most part. Wishing him ill is just me lowering myself to his level, but at some point the emotions do get the better of me and I lash out in tiny, petty ways. I’m a lowly human. To my credit, at least on the two occasions we encountered him in public, I made no scene and I didn’t punch him. I mean, if I’m so volatile and intimidating, that would be the expected response, right? But I didn’t. Because I’ve grown as a person, in spite of shitty circumstances and a misbehaving brain.

I lost the med lottery today. And it’s weird. I ate first, took my meds, ate a little afterward. And still got slammed with nausea and a headache and grogginess, not to mention acid reflux. And I had the audacity to do my usual and lay down in my dark bedroom waiting for it to pass and Spook’s posse came in and accused me of falling asleep and not supervising my kid. I was not asleep, ffs. I am able to lay down and close my eyes without nodding off 99.9% of the time. Nothing gets my dander up like a false accusation. Especially from a bunch of mouthy brats.

I am feeling better now, though 0.5 mg Xanax barely took the edge off the A word. I guess this is my new norm. I wonder if the dual anti depressant therapy could be heightening the anxiety, that is known to happen. But going into seasonal affective disorder, I can’t afford to cut back the anti depressants. Oh, and that’s one more stressor, my Medicare drug plan stuff came and they’ve changed the forumulary covering even fewer brand drugs, and they’ve made it clear they intend to to switch all of us to a similar drug that is cheaper. Which means before 2018 I’ve got to get the nurse doc’s office on a waiver so they can’t take Trintellix away from me. I am all for cheaper as long as the med has the same effect. But I’ve tried their idea of “similar” and none of them worked. If they yank out the one that helps I am screwed.

So all things considered…I guess I have many reasons to be anxiety ridden and to have spiteful or fearful feelings. And even if it’s not justified, it’s still real and it’s still a pain in the ass.

Social security disability reviews always ask for examples of how my disorders interfere with my ability to lead a normal, quality life.

The more proper question is, how don’t they?

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The Carousel Never Stops Turning

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , on September 29, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Guess only die hard fans of Grey’s Anatomy will get the title of this post, but even aside from the show…it’s a meaningful statement. The carousel NEVER stops turning. You can get ill, throw up, try to jump off, maybe you land injury free or die from a busted skull. That damned ride just keeps going, and until death, there is no escape. There is only holding on when you can, jumping off and hoping for the best when you can, and trying not to throw up on any children riding the same carousel. (Sue me for trying to inject a bit of humor into an otherwise humorless situation.)

The anxiety ninjas arrived today, about three dozen, swinging nunchuks and swords, coming at me from every direction. I’m trying to duck and cover and get in a few blows of my own but alas…Those ninjas are kicking my ass.

I always have anxiety before any shrink appointment, so I can’t say it was unexpected. The level of this particular ninja attack left me feeling overwhelmed, terrified, pounding heart, sweatiness, wooziness, nausea, headache…Yet my blood pressure was perfectly normal at the office.Inside, I swore I was having palpitations and the room was spinning and yet those damned numbers, the tangible proof society demands to prove you’re feeling what you are feeling, remained within the perfectly normal range. Talk about insult to injury. Even I start to question myself when the scientific data contradicts what I am personally experiencing.

For me, in my head space, it’s very real. It’s crippling, terrifying, neverending. The carousel ride from hell run at warp speed and that awful music blaring to the extent my eardrums shatter. But the scientific numbers remain normal so obviously…I will never be viewed as anything more than a malingerer.

One line in the sand I drew today when I finally got to see doc nurse was to explain to her that her constant clacking on the keyboard while talking to me was a big issue for me and surprisingly, she didn’t do it this time. I don’t know if I angered her because she is a trained professional, for all I know, under the smiles, she might have been plotting to have me labeled cured out of spite. (No, I don’t like the fact my brain goes to such a dark place automatically, but I guess when the dark stuff happens to you enough, it becomes ingrained to at least suspect it.)

She didn’t seem all that worried about the state I was in. Unwashed hair, couldn’t remember last time I showered, I sleep in 3 hour intervals, then can barely drag ass out of bed come morning. I left out all the stuff about the shop/R stress, figuring that would just get me another lecture about counseling or, worse, “But you are managing.” Being ambulatory and half competent is not managing, it is grasping at straws.

I am all for counseling EXCEPT for the one place in town that takes my insurance as their previous counselor screwed up my head worse and of course, R’s daughter is on staff there so she would have access to my records and has repeatedly shown an inability to respect privacy laws or show basic empathy for those with mental issues…With my pre-existing trust and panic issues, there is NO rational reason why anyone would want to risk their fragile mental state becoming fodder for this woman’s private conversations. (And it’s not a matter of maligning her, I have been witness to her lack of discretion and professionalism as she tells R stuff and he tells me, so the entire counseling program is compromised. To speak up about it, even anonymously, in this small town, would leave no doubt who and where the information came from, and that’s not merely burning a bridge, that’s setting an entire village on fire.) Suffice it to say, if the disability deities want me in counseling, they can feel free to expand coverage to a local counselor that hasn’t psychologically scarred me.

So anyway…Doc nurse had no answers about the anxiety except to blame situational (yeah, that’s some of it) and saying by taking my meds in the afternoon I am probably causing my own insomnia. I know this to have been debunked, however, as I used to take the meds in the morning and still had trouble getting to sleep at night and staying asleep. I’m not a know it al, I am not non compliant, I am simply experienced with trial and error of finding out the best way to take the meds. Maybe I can shift the Lamictal and Wellbutrin to morning, but the Trintellix is staying after a meal. That level of nausea is worse than anything lithium ever dished out.

She increased the Trintellix to 15mg, said see you in 4 weeks, or can I do anything else for you. I was dumbfounded by that last part, like I was at a convenience store. What did I forget to get a pack of smokes? Almost felt like a dismissal. But I suppose it’s typical. Anything short of saying you want to harm yourself or others is pretty much dismissed. There’s you pill, here’s a quarter, call someone who cares. (No one remembers that Travis Tritt song from the 80’s/90’s? I had to have a country song to assign to my dad as a ringtone, that one seemed fitting, cos hey, I don’t much care about your ranting…)

Ranting. I am the pot calling the kettle black. Ranting is all I seem to do. When I’m not busy rambling.

Anyway…back to the shop, took a Xanax (I needed her to see how strung out I was on the anxiety, if you go in all calm and collected, they dismiss you even more,so I didn’t take it beforehand), and now…I am supposed to blast some stereos to see if they will ‘act up’ but my noise tolerance today isn’t very high so I think I will watch Chicago Fire instead. I’ve waited 5 months basically to see how it turns out. Though the ‘will they live or die” thing likely isn’t good for my anxiety.

Just comes a point when the anxiety has robbed me of as much as I can allow it to. I can’t even get into this season of American Horror Story because it’s too realistic and terrifying. I look at this country and I see the hatred and sheeple mentality and it is become a cult, no clowns needed to terrify and repulse. Maybe in a few months I will be able to handle it. Not right now.

The anxiety has ruined Supernatural for me. Lucifer, too.

So, no, whatever shows I can work in without having a massive mental breakdown, I am gonna brave it even if I have to keep the volume down low or use the closed captioning to avoid the noise all together.

The anxiety ninjas may have beaten me down, but I’m still gonna get back up. Because that carousel never stops turning and on rare occasion, it’s a pleasant ride and I think that’s good enough reason to keep fighting.

When Your Self Esteem Goes Ten Rounds With Tyson

Posted in depression with tags , , , , , , on September 28, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Okay, so obviously, I don’t know Mike Tyson nor do I know much about the boxing world. From all accounts though, Tyson’s a hell of a boxer who punishes his opponents in the ring.

R has become my version of Tyson, only instead of fists in a boxing ring and a somewhat fair fight…He barrages me with his political certainties, dismissal of my ever having a salient opinion, and also, he uses on line videos to highlight his personal views of women in general, and especially, women who don’t work or use the court system to go after men for alimony or child support.

Last night I was treated to a ten plus minute youtube diatribe from some chick he finds smashing in her opinionated posts. This one, of course, was “I don’t need a man” and hell no, I am not providing a link to it because I’m not lifting a finger to give her more viewers. She wants to be all girl power and shit, but essentially she is saying the world is still run by men and they are hunting and gathering and chest thumping to protect us female snowflakes who are too weak and lazy to do it ourselves.

Given, when I am menstrual and in physical pain, not to mention the pummeling I got from my child calling me dumb and stupid for three straight hours (because of the ‘no’ word, of course), maybe this inane video just hit me harder than it normally would.

Or maybe as a woman on disability, who does get state aid, who did go to ask the court to butt in and get child support from the donor…Maybe this chick’s words felt not like slaps across the face, but having a box cutter swung aross my self esteem repeatedly. Thankfully I was a little numbed with Mangorita (the only thing positive R brings to the table anymore) so I didn’t go what he calls “feminaze”. I calmly allowed “She makes some salient points, but on the child support issue…I don’t care if it’s a mom or dad who walked out and won’t support their kid, the custodial parent should have every right to go to court and use legal means to pursue the deadbeat for support for the child.”

Which he made about himself, too, because he had full custody of his three kids and a 5 year battle in court with their mother and she didn’t start paying child support until after the final hearing. But he didn’t go whining to the state, he just made do because apparently, youtube chick is right, men are the hunter gatherers and we, the females, are simply the cooks and cleaners and occasional orifice for their baser needs.

It’s amazing I didn’t punch him. Really, it is. He sits there so proud of this youtube chick spouting off, shredding so called feminists, and essentially, shredding ME, and he denies the parallels. Because I was doing ok without child support for 5 years until he and my dad bullied me into using the state and the courts to pursue child support. So here I am being lambasted for doing what HE pummeled me to do for years.

I also tried to bow out gracefully from his shop deal. He’s taking in too many items, spending too little time working on it because the other place is working him over and sending him out of state again next week, and I am the one left to explain to people why it’s taking 4 months to get a damned repair done. The stress and anxiety this puts on me is immense, but trying to talk to him about it is pointless. He doesn’t hear, won’t hear. He says everyone’s stuff will get fixed, but he fails to grasp when it takes months for an item to be repaired and we can’t even blame the slow delivery from China when the parts have already been sitting here for weeks now…Everyone tells me to cut him slack, he’s exhausted, so I appealed to him on that angle. He got snappish and said he’s not exhausted, he just needs time and it will all get done.

Denial is bordering on delusional.

So I am telling him about my limitations and pointing out it wouldn’t do any harm to let the shop be closed a week or so, let him get caught up, let me catch my breath…And nope, he still wouldn’t give an inch.

So between the forced second hand video pummeling of the chick I shall now refer to as youtube Satan, and his utter dismissal of my cries for mercy…I went to bed feeling pretty damned beaten down, ignored, and hurt.

I wasn’t real stunned when this morning, I woke up in so much pain from cramps and backache, I got my kid off to the bus stop and went back to sleep. Fuck it. He won’t listen to me, all I can do is try to take breathers here and there to avoid the crash and burn. I wandered into the shop around 9:45 and I don’t feel the least bit crappy for it. When someone gives a cry for help and says they need a break…and you ignore them…you’re lucky to get anything out of them, considering that cruel treatment.

He can call me a snowflake all he wants. He can thump his chest about what a great worker he his doing two jobs and how he single handledly raised 3 kids by himself. He also had an ex who saw the kids one evening a week and every other weekend so he did occasionally get breaks. I don’t. He always had some sort of inheritance or savings to fall back on with his kids. I do not. He drinks himself into a stupor nightly for 30 years, so even if he depression or anger he wouldn’t feel it. All I’ve got are an endless string of meds that work, half work, or don’t work. I’m not a fucking snowflake.

And a call just came in for a guaranteed $250 from a warranty repair and because he is so busy, they’re going to take it elsewhere.

He’s right, I’m wrong. Period.

And let’s not forget this one dumbass who has called 45 times in two days. I’ve talked to him four times, R talked to him 3 times, and no matter what you tell him, he keeps calling back and he doesn’t hear you and repeats himself. If I hated ringing phones before, now I view them as ticking bombs out to cause my central nervous system to implode.

Maybe I should just send my kid to my mom’s for the weekend and have the psych nurse doc lady sign me into the mental ward for a couple of days.

Fuck, it’s sad when you have to think in such extremes all to avoid ruining a friendship. Seems to me were R truly my friend, he’d have some concern for my feelings. But then, me asking for a man to be concerned about my feelings makes me a snowflake.

There are days I wish North Korea would just nuke us already. (I hope that’s the menstrual dysphoria talking.)

Hexed

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , on September 27, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Between yesterday and today, the anxiety has gone from a slow simmer to a roiling boil, and 99% without a trigger. I leave the 1% open ended cos hey, being a single mom is going to bring anxiety even for someone without the disorder.

Still, I can’t help but feel hexed here. The weather abruptly shifted again, turning from scorching to “damn it, why did I wear a tank top and not bring a hoodie, I am freezing!” overnight. With this comes the seasonal affective symptoms banging on the door. I want to hoard my acorns and go underground for six months. I know I can’t but I want to. It’s what the depression does, makes you want to function as minimally as possible.

What’s at maximum instead of minimum is the anxiety. Today, for no reason whatsoever, it is rampaging. I can’t even get caught up on the last 4 episodes of Supernatural because…Okay, this will sound super stupid, but it’s how I feel…I really can’t allow myself to watch my uber favorite shows when I am in a bad mental state lest those shows start representing my bad mental states. In other words, I don’t want what I enjoy being equated with the level of anxiety I currently feel, so I simply can’t watch the show. And it’s a damned shame, because I love Supernatural. And it’s not like I can’t watch other shows (well, I did quit Sons of Anarchy toward the end of season six because, wow, all that evil and killing and manipulation and lies, damn, my anxiety doesn’t need more anxiety), I just watched The Brave’s first episode and I quite enjoyed it. I watched Bull this morning, as well, and enjoyed it.

But Supernatural is…a long love affair I’ve had going on 12 years now and I simply cannot let my own mental damage also damage my feelings for the show. Illogical, irrational, whatever.

Welcome to the ruins left behind smoldering when your disorders continue to wreak havoc on every aspect of your life.

‘Splain It To Me, Lucy

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , on September 26, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

For three days, I was minimally functional. Time in the petri dish just drains me. In spite of the lethary and borderline shutdown, I took my kid to a couple of yard sales Saturday morning (one was my sister’s so I kinda felt obligated to appear) and we found some cute dresses in good shape at good prices. (Spook is back on her Elsa/Frozen kick, yay. NOT.) Sunday I took her to the park and there were no kids there so she asked me to play with her…then recoiled in horror when I actually started going down slides and swinging. The minute other kids showed up, she was done with the very “family time” she had demanded and at that point we left. But hey, I kept my word and took her. After the week she had at school and her Dojo scores, she was lucky to have gone at all. Especially after Friday’s tantrum during which she tried to hurl a basket of laundry at me then attack me with a big glass piggy bank.All over, of course, being told “no”. Kid scares me sometimes but I’m not backing down these days. (How is it not creepy when a hostile 8 year old asks if you can kill someone with a butter knife?)

With the petri dish hangover came the PMS and cramps and backache and general moodiness. I find myself unfocused, restless, weepy at times, hostile at other times. I hate people. Wait, I’m bored, I should go do something in the dish. No, that car nearly backed into me, I need be at home where I am safe! Jebus, the mood swings drive me crazier, I can only imagine how hard I am to live with for others not indoctrinated into the bipolar ‘lifestyle’. That is a fucked up way to put up, as if being bipolar is a lifestyle choice.

Today I had to go to the school’s mobile dentist thing with my kid. She did well, though she still has one cavity and this dentist (he was a nice jolly guy, she didn’t attack him) told me she’s gonna need laughing gas for anyone to work on it and it has to be soon or it will become abcessed. (Yay, medicaid-find-a-doctor-who-will-accept-it time, joyous.) I was proud of her for being so brave and calm, though.

Since returning to the shop, I find my anxiety has skyrocketed. With no discernable cause. The doctors and such always insist there’s some sort of trigger for anxiety attacks and heightened states of anxiety but in my case…so often there isn’t one. ‘SPLAIN IT TO ME, LUCY. Much like the shifts in the bipolar states, the anxiety just sneaks up on me like a ninja and I feel like I am fending off nine or ten of them armed with swords and nunchuks. The feeling of being unsettled is immense, the fear palpable. I have no explanation for it other than…being out in the petri dish. Even if alone in a building, I am still subject to ringing phones, cars driving by, sirens, people talking as they walk by, construction. I guess those are all triggers but they were here earlier just the same and the anxiety wasn’t rioting then. Maybe the longer I am exposed the worse it becomes?

Not that that will help my cause any. I am so sick of feeling wussified simply for having limitations. I hate being limited, hate feeling weak, hate feeling so out of control. Noise is a fact of life. For me, it overwhelms my senses and turns me into a cowering train wreck of a human. It’s so odd how a doctor will tell you to avoid foods that upset your stomach or are bad for your health yet when you have an anxiety disorder and all the stimuli is what aggravates the condition, you’re encouraged(forcefully at times) to push yourself until you’re desensitized. Yet I don’t get desensitized. I have periods of remission when the anxiety isn’t as crippling but it’s always there. Ninja anxiety. Lurking, waiting. I don’t even think about being anxious so it’s not some self fulfilling prophecy.

Things with R are getting…dicey. His political tirades, no matter how little I have to hear them since he is so busy with both jobs, have gotten to the point where I feel belittled for every opinion I have. He’s a bully, just like Trump. His way or you’re an idiot. I told him last week I had my kid’s dental appt, I have a doct appt Friday, then Friday afternoon Spook and I both have our annual eye doc appts. He claims not to remember me telling him (feasible enough but not less agitating as he never listened or remembered even when working one job). What truly set me off was when I told him about today’s dental thing and he said, “It better not take you too long.” WTF? I’m not on a payroll here. I got no benefits from him. Who the fuck does he think he is? I know, he’s tired and blah blah. He’s never cut me any slack for being a bitch during my period or whatever bipolar cycle caused whatever behavior, so why should I show him mercy?

Honestly…Maybe the monthly curse is making me angrier than I’d normally be, but even an hour in the man’s company and I end up feeling like I could drink the special Kool Aid. His political stances have become oppressive. There is no agree to disagree, no margin of individual belief. HE’S right, I am an ignorant left wing idiot. I have no afiliation, thank you. I don’t want to have one, either. I believe in right and wrong and perhaps that makes me a naive simpleton, but if you’re really my friend….you’ll accept that and let it go. And he doesn’t accept it and he won’t let it go. And I’m not the only one sick of hearing him carry on, I’m just apparently the only one it stresses out so much I’m ready to douse the bridge in gasoline and set it on fire. I’ve got enough anxiety raising an 8 year old, I don’t need the added strain of a 50 some odd year old friend acting like a child.

To my credit…Spook started riding the bus yesterday. And thanks to me raising hell with the school there were 7 other kids at the stop, kids whose parents were struggling with the transportation issue just like I was. And because I was willing to speak up, those 7 kids now have transportation to school and all the parents can breathe a tiny sigh knowing we won’t face truancy charges simply because our car broke down or we can’t afford gas. It’s a little thing, but I’m glad I spoke up and called the school on their bullshit. I’m all for keeping the peace to ward off panic attacks but sometimes…your voice needs to be heard for anything to change.

Now…I’m going to take a Xanax because all the garbage truck noise is making me jump out of my skin and my stomach start churning. I’ve been popping Pepcid the last week because my stomach’s always churning. I was diagnosed at 14 with a nervous stomach and the doctor told my mom to minimize me exposure to stress for my own health.

Weird how once I turned 18 it suddenly became “suck it up, life gives you stomach aches so what.”

Aggro-Morgue

Posted in bipolar disorder with tags , , , on September 21, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Another lovely day in the dish. Construction going on, sirens, birds, traffic…All the things that ensure my aggravation and anxiety and I can’t escape. To top matters off, the midwest weather gods decided “almost fall? Hey, let’s crank it back to 97 with 60% humidity!” Even in air conditioning it’s pretty miserable. And I do live in a tin box with one window AC so going home is even worse than this shop. Plus, it’s dead so basically I just alternate watching Sons Of Anarchy with smoke breaks and talking to the stray cats that congregate next door.

Yesterday was going along fine…then enter R and it all went to shit. I asked for a few bucks to buy baggies to pack my kid’s lunch, gas, etc. He hands me this half shredded credit card and says it works. Only to find out at the store with several items it was declined repeatedly. The 97 degree heat and going home to a steaming hot trailer with a yapping child just amped up the aggravation. Spook starts acting out, then she’s so careless and hyper she dragged a basket of 2 week old kittens across the floor by a string and they came tumbling out. And rather than say “I’m so sorry, kitties, it was an accident!”…she starts crying because I called her out on being so careless and says I’m abusive (she’s thrown that abuse word out two days in a row now) and I don’t care for her.

I was furious, livid, disgusted. The other day she grabbed my hand, and I said ouch, cos I have those knuckles busted up from tearing down TV’s…I say ouch, she squeezes harder and starts laughing maniacally. I’m not a kid expert and maybe my anxiety and moods distort my perceptions sometimes but…there is something wrong with my child. Be it behavior or chemical, there is a problem. Maybe it’s in the early stages but her reactions are just…self serving or cruel. And she has enough friends around to give me a base idea on how others her age range react to things and even the devil kids pretend to be sorry when they do wrong. Mine doesn’t pretend, just goes defensive and it’s all poor her. Hours later she asked me why I was still upset and I asked, why am I upset, and she couldn’t come up with an answer except to launch into ‘you care more about cats than your kid!”.

I care about living creatures being injured, whether it’s accidental or on purpose. This does not mean I love her any less. But yeah, hurt feelings are trumped by four tiny little baby kitties who just got the equivalent of rolled in a car down a steep hill courtesy of Miss Rambunctious. But now, I even have to feel shitty for caring about animals because it apparently means I hurt my kid’s feelings.

I can’t breathe anymore with this kid. Love love love her, but she is like an ever tightening noose around my neck. And thing is, only a fraction of it is actually her. Most of it is just me burning the candle at both ends trying to survive and not let down a friend whose help we need. All this time in the dish, the noise, the stimuli, her obsession with her friends to the neglect of all else….It’s wearing me down. And the pms is making me downright snappy. To my credit, I’ve not even given her a swat on the butt. To my chagrin, I have said some harsh things or used a harsher than intended voice. I’ve apologized, of course, but my kid’s memory is good when it comes to being wronged. She still talks about a boy who hit her when she was 4. Daily guilt servings on top of everything else…

Feels like I am starting to unravel. I am trying to do mind over matter, stay upbeat, take a breather where I can, but…I’m basically a computer running on Windows 98 trying to function in a world running Win 7 or above. My hardware and software are incompatible and critical processes are incomplete, shutting down, frozen, overheating…

This was proven last night when R stopped by to give me a different card to use (this one mangled, too, but it worked) and the cashier had me prepay for fuel…My dumb ass drove off without even putting gas in the car! Worse, I went to Aldi, got some food, and was home 20 minutes before I even realized I hadn’t put gas in the car!!! Thank God for small towns so the cashier actually remembered me and helped make it right.

A mutual friend of mine and R’s just stopped in and started carrying on about how upset I made him when I was on the phone telling him about his customers’ complaints and wanting their deposits back…Then, per her norm, she backtracks and says she likes us both and nothing bad was said. Like I’d said something bad against him. All I am doing is relaying FACTS. People don’t want to wait six months for repairs, it’s basic common sense. Then she started in on Facebook this and that, Trump’s abolishing child support, Dollar Tree is closing…

Before panicking, I did a Google search. YES, these stories are out there. FACT TIME. They are all hoaxes from a site designed for people to generate their own news stories (react365,never trust anything stemming from it and if it’s on Facebook, triple check your facts!).

What I did find was an astounding number of Facebook pages with titles such as “child support is a joke”. And thousands of followers, all parents paying support and griping that they have to pay to support their kids. Are these people serious? If you’re paying too much, you had a shit lawyer. Have the state handle it and it stays at 20% of your income and stop your fucking whining. And all the “I pay but she won’t let me see my kid(s)” set…There are remedies for that too, so shut up.t

Just makes me remember the donor’s last girlfriend going around telling people how poor donor had to pay support and I haven’t let him see his daughter in 6 years, boo hoooo. Um…same address 8 years, he used to live there so he knows where it is. You want to see her, just show an interest. I am not one of those mom nazis who wants the money out of greed or spite. I have zero desire to keep her from her father. I have 100% desire to keep im away from me, but being an adult, I know realistically I will have to deal with him. I accept that. But I am NOT okay with false accusations. 6 years, not even a birthday card in the mail? Yeah, I’m the bad guy.

On the plus side, Nancy (the mutual friend) said I am falling apart worse than is and she said I should just take a break whether he likes it or not. So I’m not malingering, I am visibly a train wreck! Yay!

Ugh. This post went sideways fast. Oh, well. Welcome to living inside my head. It’s not pretty, is it?

$5

Posted in bipolar disorder with tags , , , on September 20, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

I sign a lot of petitions on line. And a significant number of them, especially anything involving politics, always asks for a donation of at least $5. And honestly, it seems like such a paltry sum that any person should have on hand at any time.

Except, I don’t. My debit card is in the negative (service fees). I gave my last 40 cents to my kid so she could get milk with her sack lunch. I literally don’t have ANY cash. So that five dollars starts seeming like a lot Especially as the car nears the E mark.I realize I have no baggies to put my kid’s school lunch in, my bowls are missing their lids, the foil is running out. Five bucks. And at 44 with a small child, I don’t even have that much. By most city laws and probably the horrid Patriot act, having no cash on hand makes me a vagrant.

It’s disheartening. Especially since the donor gets to walk away, again, and not contribute to his daughter’s well being in any way and I still can’t even get a call back from public aid to get an explanation why a near three hundred dollar loss in income doesn’t warrant a raise in food benefits…It’s frustrating, maddening, stressful.

It’s also utterly isignificant in the big picture.

My sister texted me last night to tell me that her friend Randa’s boyfriend and small child hit a 17 year old head on in the fog…and the 17 year old was fine but, the man was killed instantly and the little girl was air lifted to a hospital and there was no word on if she was even going to make it.

Kind of puts that five dollar thing in perspective, don’t you think?

Society values money. Wealth, possessions, position. I will never be anything in the eyes of people with mentality like that.

What I am thinking of is the value to that little girl of losing her father that way. If she does make it, she has to live without a dad. Has to live knowing how she lost him, that she survived when he didn’t. Not even Trump’s money piles could equate with what was lost here.

Not that society gives a damn. They make the right sympathetic noises then go buy the latest thousand dollar iphone and a ten dollar coffee hybrid sludge drink and they don’t think about it again. My curse is that along with all the mood swingy anxiety financial crap that leads to sheer panic that I won’t be able to care for my child…

At least I am here to care for her. At least she is healthy and safe. Big picture, does it matter if I can’t toss down hundreds for a fancy phone (my $29.99 phone works just fine, thank you very much) or dress her to the nines in brand names or feed her pricey organic foods so I look like uber mom…

It doesn’t fucking matter. Yeah, you gotta provice certain things for children that require you spend money…End of the day…

The biggest gift is that we have each other and love may not conquer an empty fridge, but it goes a long way in making you fight to make sure it doesn’t stay empty.

That being said…a few days from now when I go splay again and start thinking of drinking the ‘special J-town Kool-Aid….remind me of this post. Perspective tends to get lost when your brain is rioting through mood swings.