Archive for November, 2017

Trintellix Side Effects SUCK

Posted in bipolar disorder, Uncategorized with tags , , , on November 30, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Lost the med lottery today. I ate first, took my Trintellix, and BAM. Stomach ache and nausea so bad I think the flu is more appealing. THIS is why people don’t want to take meds or stay on them. I missed maybe two doses and there was no withdrawal, but even after two doses missed, you go right back to the original side effects from the first months of treatment and dose increases. It’s maddening. Yet I am reluctant to give up on it because it’s kept me vertical this long, it’s doing something. I dread taking it every day, though. It’s like trying to work yourself up to go in for a root canal. It’s worse than lithium nausea ever thought of being. While I know it will pass once I get a week of solid dose built back up, but still. Two missed doses should not involve in such nasty side effects. But alas, I know, I’m the one who got so scatterbrained I forgot my meds, I brought it on myself. My fault or not, the fact is, Trintellix has been one of the harshest meds I’ve been on.

Another NUTSYFUCKINGKOOKOO side effect from this medication, which of course, the doctors deny yet the message boards are full of people experiencing it as well, is the itching. Not just my whole skin, but my scalp. It’s got me using special shampoos, checking me and my kid constantly for head lice. And that’s precisely how it feels every single day no matter how long I am on it…Like living with a headful of lice crawling around in my hair and on my scalp.

I’m out of bed and dressed and doing my prison term. I mean, at the shop. R texted yesterday about his needs. Didn’t bother asking how I am. Doesn’t care the customers are pissed off, that he’s running the business into the ground. He gives zero fucks about anyone but his own needs. And I get it, he’s been out of state for two and a half weeks, he missed Thanksgiving with his family, he’s in limbo, unsure when they’re gonna be finished with the job and come back…I get it, he’s stressed,too, and then he has to come back to all this mess at the shop. BUT he brought this on himself. We have all tried to tell him, he is too egomaniacal to listen. So he kind of made his bed and needs to lie in it. And I think I deserve a goddamn Christmas bonus for dealing with all the enraged people who cuss me, yell at me, hang up on me, slam the door on me. But he would never think to do something so thoughtful and kind.

He’s the ‘I don’t want to know about the pregnancy,labor, or birth, just give me the baby’ type. I am the “Was the pregnancy difficult? How long were you in labor? How’s the baby? Any complications post partum?” I want the whole story because I care. I can’t stop being this person and he can’t stop being that person. It’s always been a tightrope act of our personalities clashing or meshing. I just don’t know I need another thoughtless insulting person who takes me for granted in my life when my family has it covered in spades. Tis why I have the three week plan in place. Though, I’m kind of plotting bitch cos I ain’t telling him about til after he fixes our heat. (Landlord told me if I blew another $200 main board I’d have to pay for it and the lazy Hvac guys always say it’s the board or else they’d have to know something and do some work, so fuck that, I’m gonna be a devious snake and have R fix it. That can be my Christmas bonus…please don’t think I’m horrible, heat is kind of necessity.)

At least I am not alone in my views here. All his friends, and even customers, say he’s ruined the place and the reputation. Least this time I know it’s not bipolar distortion or my personality flaw. He screwed the pooch on this one.

My kid had a warbler last night. First one in days. I shouldn’t have let her have the single peanut butter cup. Sugar always sends her around the bend but I find absolute denial makes kids sneak stuff and I don’t want her feeling she has to sneak food, even junk food, so she develops some shame disorder over food. But she went off the rails about being stupid and ugly, though the timing was convenient. She’d informed me she and a bunch of other kids were playing tag more like hockey slamfest so they all got lunch and recess detentions today. I can’t very well be disciplinarian and all when my kid’s having a self confidence meltdown, right? My mom says I make stuff up about how bad Spook acts out, that I make it worse than it is, like I am out to get her or something. No, that was my mom, always so harsh on me yet clueless that she was. I am interested in my kid not becoming a sociopath, being her friend is not my job. I make nothing up, this is her behavior. If I wanted to frame job her, I’d never point out her good behaviors. Hell, if I weren’t a loving, devoted mom, I’d have done run away from home because frankly, living in fear of an 8 year old going violent on me isn’t a pleasant life. But here I am, still trying, and my mom is accusing me of making it all up. As if I have a damned thing to gain by saying Spook misbehaves when she doesn’t.

This morning was no better. She had church last night so didn’t get to sleep til 9:30, come alarm today she started yelling at me it was too early and she was tired. Maybe the late night church thing needs to be done away if she can’t manage on an hour less sleep.

I’m not gonna say I am handling things with much grace. I’m hanging by some frayed thread here (while the sensation of crawling bugs on my scalp is making me nuts, but at least the nausea has subsided). I must have wakened 4 times during the night and I only hit snooze twice today because out of the gate…my brain starts spinning and stressing and worrying. How am I gonna get Christmas and pay all the bills? The car keeps dying on me, idle is too low, what am I gonna do if it keels over? Ugh, do I have to see the apathetic psych nurse who makes me feel so shitty? Isn’t there a better med that won’t make me feel like I have year round head lice? Round and round it goes, where it stops…I wish I knew.

But hey world, I am serving my time, vertical and at least wearing clothes I didn’t sleep in. I haven’t showered in 4 days but hey, as long as I am upright….I really hate life sometimes. I hate bipolar life. And more than anything…I despise depression. It’s one of the cruelest disorders one can live with. And one you won’t find much empathy for even amongst psychiatric professionals. Joy, joy, happy, happy.

Z-whack me now, please.

Just What The Psych Nurse Wasn’t Smart Enough To Have Ordered

Posted in bipolar disorder with tags , , , on November 29, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

So yesterday’s ‘sick out’ proved an efficient brain reboot. Toward afternoon the panic and inertia passed and I got up, did dishes, cleaned cat boxes, started washing laundry, vacuumed, cooked a good meal. Spook and I were medded and bedded by 7 p.m. though it took me quite a bit longer to fall asleep as we ran out of melatonin. I even blocked the cats from my room so I could sleep. And I did…for 40 minutes before a text from R came in asking if he had given me enough money to cover me coming into the shop this week while he’s still out of state. HUH? He’s been gone two weeks and what he did give me for Christmas and gas went toward a vet bill for Shady so…But I wasn’t about to let him fuck up my lingering Xanax-sleepiness so I sent a simple “nope” text and went back to sleep.

Only to waken again at 3 a.m. Toss, turn, go to the bathroom, check on kid and cats, back to bed, huddling under covers cos hey, my heat is still out and it wasn’t even an issue cos it was 70 degrees outside but the nights are a lot colder…In the midst of checking in on my kid, I accidentally woke her and was treated to 90 minutes of trying to get her to go back to sleep so I could, as well…Took 0.5 mg Xanax and nada…up,down, toss, turn. The anxiety of this shop situation, R, and my finances has me a damned trainwreck. The good news was, 4 a.m. I checked my bank balance and yay, the check was deposited thus negating my immediate need to tell R Yeah, we need you to get us some stuff…HATE doing that. It never ceases to amaze me how he will loan a couple hundred to Mark or whoever, no questions asked, but then, they all have jobs so they are more worthy than fronting me $20 without guilt, considering how much I do to help him. It’s not boasting or holding something over his head, it is fact. If anyone deserves the help, it’s the disabled mom with a small child, don’cha think? But nooo, I gotta grovel and be made to feel subhuman and he says it’s all in my head but he’s full of shit. Because I’ve been present when Kenny or Mark or Jim or whoever asked to bum $20 or whatever, and not once has he ever said, “You’re broke already? What do you do with your money?”

He says it to me almost every single fucking time. And I am EARNING the good favor yet still get insulted and made to feel shitty.

Finally around 5 a.m. I started to nod off. Down side, when the alarm went off, Xanax haze told me I still needed to sleep. Amazing how it doesn’t make me at all sleepy during the day or even immediately at night, but if I take it after midnight or whatever, come alarm time, I’m all groggy and lethargic. How does that even fucking work? But I got up and moving.

Yesterday’s brain reboot worked. I got dressed, loaded up wet laundry, put gas in the car, got a few cleaning supplies, came to the shop. To find I’d misseded Ex package and some angry customer tried to pick her TV up three days in a row and left a furious post it note. Join the fucking club, there are so many angry customers right now. And R won’t listen to me. He just says he will get to it when he gets to it, fuck them. If his mechanic treated him that way towards his car, he’d punch him. Yet he carries on that way and it’s me and the customers who are wrong. He needs to pick a job and do it and let the other go and since this shop is gasping and death rattling, just close it down. Much as I see a need for the business…

Fifty plus years it has operated under the current name and in the 9 or so years since R took it over, it managed to stay afloat, barely, but he was just that good at what he does. He still is. But if it takes six months to get one item fixed because this other job has him all tied up out of state and such….GIVE IT UP ALREADY. Because he is tarnishing this place’s name, ruining it, basically. The customers are what matters and his whole ‘fuck them, it will get done when I have the time’ thing is wrecking it. No, maybe you’re not entitled to instant service but if something’s been sitting 3 months and not even diagnosed…death knoll. Bring on the coffins.

I am ranting. It’s okay. I need a good rant. I’ve already got a guy coming to pick up something he left in September, another man who wanted a home install, and all I can do is gush meaningless apologies to everyone and try not to take their irritation or blatant hostility in some cases, personally. Which, fyi, with panic disorder, is pretty much impossible. If apathy were a remote default for me, I’d choose it over constantly feeling overwhelmed, guilty, weak, angry, sad, etc.

Which is one more thing to bring up with nurse practitioner- I thought it was just hormones but for four weeks now I have been tearing up at the drop of the hat and it’s not my norm on mood stabilizers so it’s a sign the antidepressant combo’s not working. I am loathe to drop Trintellix, in spite of it having the bizarre side effect of making my scalp itch and giving me the constant delusion I have head lice….because nasty side effects or not, it has kept me up and shambling. I think, like all my other meds, after a year, Wellbutrin has just decided to give up on me. Can’t wait to see how she handles being told this. Just the thought of her ‘would you like fries with that’ apathy makes me cringe and never want to go back.

For months I have agonized and told myself it’s all me, I am the one with an attitude problem, perception problem, she’s just inexperienced and I am impatient…But really, she’s just not a good fit, certainly not for someone with an extensive med resistant history like I have. Time to go back to Dr. B, IF he will even take me back. Which they’d better fit me in because changing me to doc nurse was THEIR doing, if he had room for other patients, there was no reason to change me. Idgets.

Ranting and venting aside…while I am sure word made it to R I didn’t come in yesterday but truth is, I don’t care. The reboot was what it took to get me through a tough mental health day and here I am, back on both feet, accomplishing stuff even if my stomach is churning with dread and anxiety. Maybe needing a break makes me weak or maybe it was just a really smart move the so called psych professional could have sugested. If one day helped this much, imagine what a few weeks might do to help me.

Unfortunately, she’ll be far too busy asking about my appetite and sleep to suggest a break would be good for my mental health. That and making me feel like I am being asked if I want fries with that burger.

Mental health care in this place is a fucking joke.

Psychological Flatline

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , on November 28, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

It’s been coming for weeks and for weeks, I tried to tell R that I was hitting my usual where the anxiety stress, and depression culminate in me crashing and burning. I won’t say I am down and out but for the first time in 3 months…I didn’t go to the shop like I am supposed to. I stayed home, accomplished nothing, but in all honesty…removing the guilt and all- it was precisely the sort of rebellious reboot my overwhelmed mind needed. I just flat lined. I had every intention of going to the shop…but more time passed, the more my psychological demons hovered and moved in for the kill. I knew going outside my safe space was as ill advised as trying to operate heavy machinery while on narcotics.

Of course, I will let R know I didn’t go in…when I get around to it. He was supposed to be en route home today but they’ve delayed him again out of state where he may not even be leaving by Friday. I just was not in a strong enough mental frame to go to that damned shop with all the pissed off people wanting their shit fixed or their diagnostic fee returned. Because we did bank deposit before he left and I have no access to cash or bank accounts to refund money, nor authority to do so. All these people are pissed off and while he’s pissy about the real job keeping him gone over two weeks…he isn’t the who has to listen to angry customers and try to explain why the hell a business would take their money and say they’ll do a timely repair when the damned owner and tech can’t even get his ass back to state to do the bloody work…

Tomorrow, I am determined (and praying to the sacred pegacorn) that I don’t flat line again but he’s so far behind there’s nothing for me to do but get yelled at by angry people demanding their money back. Would any sane person want to take on the stress of someone else overestimating their own abilities? He says he’s got it all handled, he can do both jobs, but if Job A sends you out of state for two plus weeks meanwhile new items keep coming in, on top of the old stuff that’ss not been fixed…He has placed me in an impossible situation, and the toll it is taking on my mental health is enormous.

So today I flaked out and flat lined but maybe tomorrow I will feel stronger. And if I don’t well, I guess he won’t be helping me get my kid’s Christmas or getting my heat fixed or helping me with a differemt car and it’s ok. I don’t owe this man my sanity. Spook and I are pretty good at being poor and doing without. It’s no longer worthwhile. It’s harmful to me, in fact. He chose to do the doctor lawyer nobel laureate multi tasking work thing. I got dragged in by necessity and him guilt tripping me.

I want out. I need out. I just need a way to do it gracefully without bridges burning and I don’t know how to do that because sledgehammer honesty doesn’t work with him. He doesn’t hear me. So I guess that leaves me holding gasoline and a match. What today taught me is…NOTHING is worth your sanity and also, NOTHING can be done about depressive and anxiety breaks except to let yourself break and try to put back the pieces together.

Mental Paralysis

Posted in depression with tags , , , on November 27, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

It’s finally my ‘me-free’ day after 5 straight days with my kid home from school and I find myself mentally paralyzed. I wanted to leap in and start cleaning today but it’s not happening. I know part of it is the furnace being out, it’s cold and I become very inert when I am cold. Weird part is, it’s fifty degrees outside and warmer than inside. Sometimes I swear my body’s thermometer is broken.

I need to clean. Like, mega clean. Hell, I’d like to sit at the desktop computer and try to write. But I am cold and low and for whatever reason, my brain is not cooperating with the desire to do anything but sit in front of streaming video. It’s like this sometimes. The anxiety and paranoia mount and add up to the point where I think if I move around something bad is going to happen. It lacks logic but then, anxiety disorder lacks logic so it seems, well, ha, logical.

There are days when I can force myself out of the paralysis brought on by the paranoia and anxiety. I don’t believe this is going to be one of them. I am going to try not to browbeat myself, though, because Saturday, even after my meds making me so sick I wanted to die, I did dishes, folded some laundry, took the vacuum apart and fixed it…Sometimes the mind cooperates and sometimes it doesn’t. There is no ‘snap out of it’ bullshit. Maybe later the paralysis will lift and I will get stuff done. Or maybe my victory for the day is getting up before my kid and making sure she had hot cocoa with fruit for breakfast. After nearly two weeks of menstrual dysphoria and pain, on top of the seasonal depression, just getting up after hitting snooze three times, and making hot cocoa and sitting up while she gets ready is a mega accomplishment.

It seems laughable to so many people that I view it that way, but then, it was a counselor who taught me to view the rough days that way. If you accomplish even one small goal, against the mental inertia and paralysis, then you can ride it out until it passes and not have to feel shitty about yourself or lack of accomplishment. You did something, and that counts. Now if that therapist (if he is still alive, he moved away a long time ago, breaking my heart cos he really was awesome) would just get his own talk show and tell the masses that it’s okay not to be a whirlwind all the time, especially when anxious and depressed. Seems these days the only way to reach mindless masses is through TV or social media.

Then again, I wouldn’t wish that on Paul, he was too a good a therapist, and human, to fall into the vapid wasteland of today’s society even if his message is an important one. I consider myself blessed to have had him as a counselor, even if it was less than two years before he moved away.

Today I am just going to ride it out. Therapist’s orders, so to speak. And while the self flogging is almost certain because hey, self loathing is depression’s constant companion- I am going to try to keep it from becoming 50 Shades Of Grey self flogging.

Nothing sexy or even curiously kinky about convincing yourself you’re a useless husk of humanity. Besides, depression will put its two cents’ worth in, no extra flogging necessary.

Somehow, whips and chains seem less sadistic than mental health disorders.

Mental Disorders-Perception Versus Reality

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , on November 27, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Today was a weird one, mentally, and I chalk it up to excess stress and of course, my own fuck up of missing several doses of anti-depressants and mood stabilizers. (Which, occasionally IS my memory failure, but also can be attributed to the doc/nurse office not replying to refill requests in a timely manner, the pharmacy failing to fax for refills, and many times with Trintellex, not having the dose on hand thus resulting in a couple days’ without meds, and let us not forget lack of copay money as well as insurance script plans not allowing refills more than 4 or 5 days in advance.) Not absolving myself, I screwed up missing doses, no matter the reason, and I am the one paying for it. Today was a roller coaster of inertia, desire to function, crash landing to depressive abyss, followed by a lift into hypomania. I OWN my screw up.

What has me spiraling today, though, is PERCEPTION VERSUS REALITY. And this is NOT a thing limited to those with mood disorders or the assortment of other mental imbalances…There is my truth, your truth, facts, perceptions and it is all confusing no matter the stability of your brain chemicals. With a series of legit imbalances, though, it is more difficult and confusing, even when your self awareness is uber precise.

Points in question…My ‘friendship’ with R. Earlier I hit a rock bottom abyss where I could barely hold back tears (and the monthly curse is over so it’s less likely hormonal) and all I could think was, “Thanks for the friendship, your demands broke me.” Is it fair? Maybe. Maybe not. Is it a distortion? Maybe partially because I can’t expect Mr. Spock to correlate with my “even the needs of the few are equal to the needs of the many” emotional stance. Still…I find it an imbalanced ‘friendship’ and I use the quotations marks because this is a man making demands of me and while I am not without necessary benefits when me and my child need them…This man doesn’t even send a Christmas or birthday text, treats my kid like an annoyance, and when I told him awhile back I had a sick cat I needed to be home with, he said, :Well, then I should think you’d rather be here”….

His emotional IQ is so low except for his own progeny and grand-progeny, we are never ever gonna be on the same page. I REQUIRE money to keep my fed sheltered and clothed and the car running. I require his expertise when my furnace goes out or my computer hardware fails. But when it comes to my emotional needs, I am left feeling starved, denied, abused. Even if he means well, my feelings are no less valid.

Yet any time I voice them he has this Mr. Spock method of making me feel weak and subpar and like I am screwing him over as opposed to vice versa. He was diagnosed 20 years ago as a narcissist so it’s not a newsflash that his needs come first and my needs are crap unless he can write a check or make a repair but I keep thinking of all the times I have hobbled in on my last physical and mental leg to be a good friend, to atone for my pre-mood stabilizer behavior…and if I fail him even once, I get a nasty lecture about being intolerable and now I have to stand on my own two feet cos he’s tired of ‘taking care’ of me.

Yet he can fail me dozen of times, leave me with a car about to keel over because he hasn’t had time in 18 months-even while laid off from the second job-to take a peek-see and help…I just feel…a little abused, a lot neglected, and frankly, emotionally starved. I recognize the difference in our mentality, personalities, histories, and me being…well, psychologically disorganized, which amounts to us never seeing eye to eye but…

Am I really so demanding to want him to listen and HEAR me when I am willing to do the same for him? Is it fair of him to blow me off with ‘different car and needed cash/items’ so I do his bidding?

Perception versus reality. It’s a thing, mental chaos or not.

I’ve had so much counseling (whereas he repeatedly rejected the notion anything could be wrong with him) I am fairly self aware, outside my 2 week menstrual dysphoria. I know my weaknesses, am trying to find my strengths, I recognize my imperfections, my dastardly behaviors and deeds…Yet I am surrounded with people who can’t even determine that calling me a bitch (thank you, mommy) is saying more about their lack of emotional maturity than it is me.

What can I do?

I am just gonna keep putting one foot in front of the other even though every day feels like my soul has died another death, my emotional well being is in famine mode, and my insecurities are causing me to doubt even my ability to breathe without screwing it up.

There IS beauty out there. I am not prepared to give up on it yet.

Whether my psyche holds up to my hopes and desires is a whole other story yet to be determined.

I just think a ‘friendship’ where you’ve pushed yourself beyond the breaking point and the other person still expects more…it’s a bit toxic. And it means R hasn’t changed an iota in 20 years because, hey, he was the one who dumped me because of my mood swings. He didn’t care I had a shit doctor who misdiagnosed, wrongly medicated me and nearly killed me and I couldn’t afford better. He shunned me because I was too stressful yet now I am feeling the same since he expects me to become Mr. Spock like him…

Play fair in the sandbox or I am taking my toys and going home.

It’s a concept most children can comprehend yet is lost on a fifty four year old man.

Narcissists are a special breed I guess.

I may have selfish/self centered qualities but I lack the confidence to be a narcissist or even compete with one.

Bridges may be burning soon. Don’t bother with the fire extingishers.

At this point, I have realized-doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome is insanity.

R’s standards will never lower and my stability will never meet his standards. Stalemate or bridge incineration…I can’t kill myself for this person and a TRUE friend wouldn’t expect, or want, me to.

Skewed perception or reality? Let me know, guys. I can’t buy a vowel or a clue, I am so broke.

Bipolar Disorder,ADD, and Racing Thoughts

Posted in bipolar disorder with tags , , , , on November 26, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Earlier was a long venting, renty post to purge the week’s demons.

This evening I find myself less overwhelmed with emotions and more frustrated with the curse of bipolar, its subsidiaries (my shrink says often ADD and ADHD come hand in hand with bipolar disorder and goes undiagnosed far too often), and of course, the prescription insurance plans who refuse to cover necessary medications people like me truly do need to benefit to functionality and quality of life.

I do not have the hyperactivity form of attention deficit. I do, however, have rabid racing thoughts and it’s quite maddening. What is more maddening is that a simple low dose of Focalin helps 75% toward this particulaly brutal aspect of my bipolar disorder and yet, insurance refuses to pay for it no matter what the doctor says is best and necessary. Even generic Focalin and similar meds are so pricey, I can’t pay out of pocket. So where does that leave me (and many others, I am sure)?

It leaves us being held hostage by our spiraling thoughts that stampede and race day in and day out, hindering ability to focus and finish basic tasks, read a book, write coherent posts (read my blog lately?). It’s not bad enough to constantly be at war with the immediate symptoms of bipolar, which, too, includes racing thoughts. Having a secondary diagnosis of attention deficit with racing thoughts yet not being able to get the relief you need due to financial restraints is insult to injury.

I find it so reprehensible to have a diagnosis for this particular hindering disorder yet even with the doctor signing off on it, I can’t afford the meds and insurance won’t cover it. As if we simply make up stuff so we can take even more pills.

While it is very true that a plethora of people use ADD/ADHD stimulant meds, and abuse them, for no reason other than all night cram sessions or keeping up with their kids’ extracurricular activities…For those of us who have legit disorders, their irresponsibility and utter selfishness rob of us what could greatly improve our quality of life NOT TO MENTION, ability to gain employment. No employer wants someone so scatterbrained they can’t complete small tasks, let alone major ones, and more often than not, that small dose of Focalin helps put me on track. I won’t say it’s 100% long term effective, but some of it is the ebb and flow of the bipolar ups, downs, and crippling depressions. No drug is a true miracle worker.

I am truly frustrated that my writing-which is all I have ever been good at, and the one thing I absolutely love doing-suffers because my brain moves so fast and has so many topics at once it’s like being in a money booth with a wind machine trying to grab at currency but being unable to grab more than two singles. Too much blowing around in my brain like juggling a dozen ping pong balls and I drop them constantly thus my intelligence comes into question. People think I am so lazy flake or dingbat and that is infuriating.

Unfortunately, with ACA on the chopping block, which likely means us disabled will be turned out into the cold as well, I see no solution in sight. It just seems to me that with the attention deficit and churning thoughts being such a hindrance, properly diagnosed over multiple years by multiple doctors, yet I am still not worthy of the expense when it could so improve my life, my child’s life, our entire situation…Big pharma, insurance companies, and the system as a whole are unintereted in helping anyone who isn’t crapping hundred dollar bills to afford the costlier drugs.

As a post note…To all those who pop Adderall, etc, to get high, gain energy, cram tests…Your selfishness means people who need-and deserve-that help- are often unable to get it even when we are legally entitled to it. So thanks for that, assholes. You rank right up there with big pharma and prescription insurance plans.

I matter, and I should be able to get the medication I need, even if I could only cover a fraction of it. Instead of hurling judgments at those with mental disorders, how about the powers that be come up with a plan to help us help ourselves by making these needed meds affordable?

I’m already in my pajamas, I know I am dreaming. Big pharma will do the right thing about the same time as politicians gain a soul.

Hot Fucking Psychological Mess

Posted in bipolar disorder with tags , , , on November 25, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

I survived the holiday madness only to have a complete meltdown last night. I panicked and called the local counseling center because my kid went ballistic when I tried to move her table as she had it blocking her path in her room thus making it a fire hazard…She attacked me, then tried to break the dvd player.This, after her trying to stab me with a pen in the morning, because she insisted family is spelled -ey and no amount of proof-dictionary, google, our state family medical card…nothing was getting through to her and she came at me. So…I cracked my lids.

I guess I was so upset the on call counseling operator decided I needed bigger guns than they had on call cos I was referred to an 800 number then put through half an hour of questions about me and my kid and did I feel I needed them to send authorities to come take her away. THIS IS WHAT I AM TRYING TO FUCKING AVOID!!! This is why I’ve been reluctant to push too hard on the counseling angle, because rather than let me talk and seek advice, they want to take the most drastic route. And by then Spook had calmed down, so much so I assumed while I was bawling on the phone to this random operator that she had worn herself to sleep.

Nope. She was awake and started crying and saying she didn’t want to be taken away, but then she flip flopped and said it’d be okay if they took her away for two weeks as long as they didn’t make her eat nasty food and we could talk on the phone. (Feel the fucking love???) This all followed me daring to be stupid enough to confided in my mother about Spook trying to stab me and my mom snapping, “You need to stop putting off getting her help!”

So I tried to get her some help only to be rejected by the local place, which was fine, I didn’t even want to go there as their child psych pro happens to be R’s judgmental eldest daughter with the master’s degree…So after being rejected and referred what I got was A.) “We’ll send someone to your house tonight to remove her” or B,” “Call this number Monday” for a counseling center 90 miles away from us. Um..Yeah, that’s the psych ward my sister and brother both spent time in as teenagers cos they were ‘troubled youth’. My kid does not need hospitalized, we do not need to be seperated or have our home invaded by ‘behavioral experts’. My kid needs evaluated by a shrink because all this aggressive slash violent behavior seems triggered by the word no, and worsened by being shoveled sweets (my mom let her eat an entire pie Thanksgiving day behind my back, thus turning her feral).

I reached out for logical help, not drastic measures and certainly not signing my kid into a psychiatric hospital. Once again, good intentions lead to being made to feel even worse for reaching out because now I’m in some system and they probably will come take my kid away and not because she is violent toward me but because our house is falling apart, messy, and oh, our heat went out again and R is out of town til at least Wednesday night (thank God we are having a warm burst the next 5 days)…

I wanted counseling for her, maybe sessions for us together. I want help figuring out how to curb her behaviors, how to handle my own reactions to them, and because I reached out for help during a meltdown that was a long time coming considering how hormonal and stressed I have been as of late…they will probably come to our door and see my nasty caved in floors and threadbare carpet no shampooer can get truly clean and of course, one of the kittens will have likely hurled ten seconds prior thus making it look like I don’t clean up after them and…

I need to breathe. I am panicking.

Maybe calling that behavior center would be a good thing. But my car shimmies over 25 miles an hour so I’m not gonna be driving her 180 miles to a psych ward and her state insurance won’t cover it anyway which was why in my dark hour of need I tried the local center. Even though it would be an enormous conflict of interest (would any of YOU want to take your kid or yourself to a center where their prized therapist sat in front of you at a cookout and griped about being on call and having to check in on a client and saying “I really don’t want to talk to this bitch” about said client????????????????????????????). Oh and let us not forget the confidentiality breaches left and right that come from that same place, and that precededed Ms. Master’s Degree, it’s just a small town and when family members get the same counselor, for some reason the counselor thinks that means confidentiality is waived…Oh and let me add, Ms. Child Pyschology Wunderkind just had to remove her Kindgertner from religious school due to behavior issues and put her in lowly public school…If she’s got a child of her own that’s problematic, how is that gonna help me with my child? Especially because the times we’ve been around her socially she has exhibited nothing but judgment and critiquing my child…

I’m spiraling, I know. I am just fucking freaked out.

I am further melting down with the shop stress as he’s been gone almost two weeks, nothing is getting done, people are pissed and wanting their money back and take their stuff elsewhere…I can’t handle the confrontation on top of everything else.

I am out of talk time on my phone so I got a crappy free app which apparently has echo feedback from hell and I realized with no minutes on my own number, the school can’t reach me should Spook need to come home so I went to the page to try to edit personal info and at least put in the app number as secondary and it wouldn’t let me change my own fucking information.

The new kitten, Vex, is still keeping me awake half the nights, as is Spook, entering another one of her sleep with mommy phases so even my bed and sleep are nightmares.

I am trying to be strong and tough it out but inside, I am fucking screaming my fool head off.

Amidst all the chaos of holiday week, I missed a couple of days of my meds ( I can’t juggle everything,ffs!) so when I took my Trintellix this morning, I got sicker than a dog. I forgot how harsh the 5 mg was, let alone missing the 20 mg a couple of days and popping back on it. I started feeling better but for several hours, I was in gastric hell. I’ve given up on Wellbutrin, whatever it was doing has ended. I am hopeless for the most part.

Yet I fantasize about just abandoning this whole ‘normal conventional’life and doing something different…like moving to Mexico and selling tourist crap or finding some small coastal town in Maine and spending days on the beach playing with my kid. I want to leave behind all this stressful shit of politics and whether the president is a good person or whether taking a knee at a ballgame is some big crime against America…I just want to be at peace and lead a quiet life with bouts of pure joy. We don’t need fancy stuff. In fact, acquiring all the stuff we have actually makes me less happy because my chaotic brain can’t organize for shit and it just piles up and becomes a depressing hindrance and I can’t even sort myself enough to start pitching whatever I can live without.

I am a hot fucking mess and not even one that’s fascinating. But if anyone every says I’m not giving it my all and trying my hardest, even to my own psychological detriment, I’ll gladly call them liars to their face. I am giving everything I’ve got and then some and ya know what I am getting in return?

A nervous breakdown and probably some do gooder who will take my kid away because I dared to reach out for advice when I hit my breaking point and didn’t know how to handle being attacked by an 8 year old.

I need a time out. From R’s demands, from my family’s put downs, from my kid’s tantrums…But my kid and I are bonded and her fits are my cross to bear. I can’t help thinking we both just need out of this humdrum existence. A clean break, far away from the oppression of my family and this town.

Sounds loopy and naive, right?

Loops and naive could prove to be our savior so I’m not ruling it out. Adults can run away from home. I just need to get my head on straight, calm down, and start figuring out how to find this peaceful place where my daughter and I can enjoy life. There will be struggle, always, but I have to have faith that somewhere there is a place for us where we would be calmer, happier, and maybe live happily ever after. Loopy and naive are all I have left.

I don’t see how a desire to live near a beach is so fanciful, though. It doesn’t have to be Malibu. Just some place far from my skeletons and demons, where I could start to heal, where I could introduce Spook to a vast culture and a variety things this place doesn’t offer…

Maybe I’m loopy. Maybe I am mid breakdown and in denial.

Or maybe I am finally realizing that possessions don’t mean that much, but environment, especially one that nourishes your spirit, could be just what the doctor didn’t order but is desperately needed.