Archive for August, 2018

Feeling Buried Alive-Living With Depression

Posted in depression with tags , , , , on August 30, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

There is a common misconception, even with psych pros, that living with depression is laying in bed crying 24-7. That’s akin to saying all people with any chronic illness never have a day where they feel less shitty. The fact is, when you are living with a condition like depression, your life is indeed blanketed with low mood, high anxiety, inability to focus, zero motivation to do housework or even bathe and a general feeling of exhaustion and achiness that never goes away.

Some days, though, these symptoms can lighten up or be alleviated all together. These are rare days but they do happen.

Some days are just strung together like a strand of burned out Christmas lights. You shamble on joylessly, too numb to be pissed off or sad or happy.

Today I’ve left all but the ‘buried alive’ state of depression. Everything feels overwhelming. I’ve managed to get my kid off to school, feed the cats, clean the kittens’ eyes out, and gather up some garbage. Oh and I put on pants. Woo fucking hoo. My body feels like concrete, heavy and difficult to move. And perhaps some of that is PMDD, the curse will arrive soon and that’s just ten kinds of feeling like death. (Anyone who denies the impact hormone fluctations have on mental disorders is a moron.)

Mostly, I think I’ve surfed the last week or so in ‘dead space’, too depressed to feel anything but dead inside, too tired to be pissed off about it. I despise that aspect of Lithium and the dead affect seems to be pretty common with many who take the drug. One would think with all the modern medical marvels that have come about since the advent of lithium as a mood stabilizer they might have tweaked the formula. Fewer side effects, maybe not numbing our brains into submission.

I’ve watched shows where some want it mandated by law that anyone with a mental health diagnosis is forced to be medicated ‘to protect society’. I find that hysterical because most people who have ‘gone off the deep end’ and shot up schools or whatever were either sociopaths or psychopaths and no med will cure that. And don’t get me started on rapists and serial killers. They’re just bad personalities with no conscience. It has nothing to do with those of us who are legitimately disordered and bust our asses trying to find a happy medium and improve not just our own quality of life, but to better ourselves for those who love us. I’m not naive enough to think my disorders don’t impact my child. I shield her much as I can from the worst of it but she’s 9, not stupid, she knows when mommy sits in her room staring off into space…something’s wrong. So yeah, I take my meds to get better, but sometimes with all the side effects and ineffectual stuff, I’d be tempted to say fuck this, I’m not gonna take em anymore, I’m just gonna be a drunken stoner. I take the meds for me, and I especially keep taking them for her. Does that sound like I am out of touch with reality or dangerous to others or have sinister motives?

Been making my usual email rounds. It’s like my entertainment, seeing what ridiculous Twitter war our leader is in this day. It’s like watching little kids bicker over who called who cootie head. Is it sad that I view this stuff as humorous? Maybe. But laughing at it makes me not focus on how depressing it is. And I subscribe to a lot of tech stuff and learned about something terrifying today. It’s about a process called ‘deep fake’ videos where they basically manipulate pics of anyone they choose into a video that’s completely false and never happened yet with the way the internet works and sheeple thinking…It’s not without merit that some zealot could read “Trump encourages supporters stomp on kittens” and they’d take it as gospel. Because they SAW A VIDEO AND VIDEO DOESN’T LIE. Except, ha, guess what, in 2018, now they can make video lie. How terrifying is that? I mean, you don’t need to be rich and famous for someone to target you and use this to discredit you for whatever petty reason. It’s a good read and it’s not political though some examples of ‘deep fake’ videos are about those in politics but mainly cos they have so much out there in terms of pictures to make the fake videos.

On the anxiety front…I have to take my car out of town to the mechanic this evening which means dad driving down to give me a lift home. Out of town, car with iffy braking capacity, and my dad on my case (because any time a car has problems, he always blames me for using the car wrong.) Yay. Something to look forward to when you’re already feeling buried alive. I should bathe and stuff since I will be out in public but I’m thinking wet wipe today. Even that feels daunting.

Why can’t my stupid scumbag brain just process information normally so I react to things properly? I look around and think, “Oh, god, this is my life?” We have a roof overhead, power, water, food, clothes usually a car…Our basic needs are being met and I still wonder if this is all there is to life. Survival. I’m entitled to the pursuit of happiness but depression will not allow me to even try. My frustration mounts daily because I am trying so hard. No drinking, eat in moderation, get outside for sunshine and exercise, journal your daily mental states and look for triggers for the low mood or high anxiety…I am doing everything I am supposed to be doing and…it seems futile.

And everyone thinks it’s money or location but I could have Kate Middleton’s life as a dutchess with no money troubles and…depression doesn’t give a damn. That’s why wordpress has been such an amazing outlet for me. It reminds me that depression doesn’t care about your race, your income, your background, whether you’re pretty or ugly, fat or think, single, married, with or without kids…When it comes to mental health issues, we are created equal. Our battles are different yet similar enough to hammer home the point…

Mental illness is an equal opportunity destroyer of lives.

Give Me A Fucking Brake!!!!

Posted in depression with tags , , , , , on August 29, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Yeah, yeah, I know the word is ‘break’…But MY REAR BRAKES ON THE CAR WENT OUT YESTERDAY so…yeah, give me a fucking BRAKE! I really have zero right to complain since it’s a $450 car and has given no problems the last six months, shit goes wrong on cars and needs replaced…I just can’t shake off the “Are you fucking kidding, I am coming out on the other side of birthday and school costs now THIS?” thing. I can’t catch a break, it’s ridiculous. The only saving grace was they went out while I was in town in traffic and I managed to get her home and parked without playing Bumper Cars with others. My stepmonster and dad have it going in Thursday night with a mechanic and they’re gonna float me (another) loan to keep it road ready but…Crikes, I am into them so far, I don’t see any end in sight. And oweing family is worse than oweing any knee busting loanshark. Especially with my family. A financial stranglehold is akin to me having to ask how high when they say jump but….I don’t have a choice.

I called my doctor’s office yesterday to check on my lithium level results. Usually, it’s a good thing. This time, my levels are fine but my creatinine is low which might indicate liver function failing so I have to have the test repeated in a month. Here’s a fucking thought: let me off the goddamn lithium and my liver might be just fine! When I am hormonal or in a situation that causes emotional overload, Lithium is great, total Novacaine for the brain. But living in that numb state 24-7,365…FAIL. Because Lamictal keeps the manic episodes at bay just fine, this second mood stabilizer and all its side effects simply isn’t necessary, it’s overkill. Now I get to spend the next four weeks wondering if my liver is gonna fail and require a transplant. Because that’s what panic attacks do. They don’t care about logic or thinking positive. They KNOW the worst is coming, and even if it isn’t, they are PREPARED for the worst. It’s like you will die if you don’t panic because that’s what all the receptors are telling you is an appropriate reaction.

Plus side, stepmonster let me borrow her SUV today so I could get to town and pay bills. Negative side, it’s a reminder I still owe her $300 for the windshield I cracked. Her SUV is nice, but driving other people’s cars is not something I relish, it makes me more nervous than driving my own car even without working rear brakes. At least I handled that bill in my sister’s name and rent and power and internet and car insurance. We’ll be broke for the next two weeks but at least we can’t be tossed in the street or forced to sit in the dark. And having it all taken care of does make me relax a little, so I am super grateful she let me take her car instead of offering to cart me around town. Usually, they do that, even if I just ask to borrow enough for a gallon of gas, they’ll follow me to the gas station and watch me fuel up then pay with their check. To say this is humiliating at age 45 goes without saying, but…it is what it is. Least today I was allowed to be a grown up.

My worthless brother in law, the ‘reformed’ stoner, actually got hired to that good full benefits job. Much as I want to be happy that it will improve things for my sister and my mom…The guy’s a douche who will likely spend every cent on a motorcycle so he can run with his wanna be ‘mc’ club friends. (God, where’s Jax Teller to smack a bitch when you need him? Sorry, SOA reference.) And while my mom and sis think I am jealous he got hired at a place that would only have me as a temp and won’t hire me again cos I missed too much work…I’m not jealous. I am morally outraged because there are so few jobs around here that pay a liveable wage and offer benefits and he gets hired over hundreds of far more qualified less lazy applicants who want to support small kids as opposed to their 21 year old still living at home….I give zero fucks about bro in law having money for a motorcycle or more computer gear (I WANT A COMPUTER TOWER, DAMN IT, I DON’T CARE IF IT’S XP AND ANCIENT AS LONG AS IT WORKS!) or X Box shit. But then hey, maybe I should butt out and take off my judgmental tin foil hat.

Hmm…Nope. I don’t want to be judgey but sometimes, people deserve to be judged for their dickbag behavior. I’ve been watching shows lately where there is so much backstabbing and corruption and sociopathy and no one apologizes for their behavior. They just become more successful and more wealthy and I think that’s a statement based on reality, as well. The socipaths will inherit the earth and fuck those of us who are decent, we’re irrelevant.

That makes me doubly pissed off because my depression already makes me feel irrelevant. It is NOT normal for me to go into a store decked out with Halloween items and not at least get sad I can’t afford to spend $5 on a ghoulish chotchky. Yet that’s where I am now. And this is not me. I remember August 2008 before Spook was born when me and the donor lived at my mom’s in a room with just a curtain and people conducting pot deals (brother in law) right in the room while we tried to sleep…donor wasn’t working, I’d missed a check due to losing my wallet and having to have everything rerouted….I had nothing, literally, even food was a luxury then…But I still had enough zest for life to go into Dollar Tree and see Halloween stuff and think, “Oh, man, bummer, that is so fucking cool, I want one…” This. Is. Not. Me.

I tacked the borderline personality disorder tag on here because…well, since they slapped me with the label and didn’t tell me, I guess I am gonna exploit every disorder I have. Even if I don’t agree with their diagnosis. I’d like to have the professionals take tests and not know which is for what, let’s see how many of them turn up borderline versus bipolar versus etc al. This is not denial, I admit the traits are there. Just not in an abundance to warrant an entire label being slapped on me. And trust me, it’s not lost on me that denial is exactly what a borderline personality would do. But I’ve met several people with that diagnosis and not one of them had the self awareness or self restraint that I possess. So I am either cured of borderline or I simply don’t fucking have it.

So now I am gonna put the brakes (ha ha ha ha) on this post and hope I get at least one like. That evil vile like button has turned me into a simpering little junior high kid hoping the popular kids acknowledge my existence with that click. Ugh, I hate myself now but I promised to write the truth in this blog and…sadly, that’s the truth. Besides. Writing is no different than making music or drawing. It’s all a form of art and artists can often be needy bitches.

Like me or…Um…Pfft, I can’t even be bothered to threaten people with a Z Whacker. Like this post, don’t like it, donate to our fundraiser or don’t…I’m never gonna rock the being popular thing so….fuck it and feed it to the fishes.

Radio Silence Ends Now

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , on August 28, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Basically a week since I posted???? This is not normal. Radio silence from me means I’ve either died or moved to a region without even cellphone wifi hotspot access. Unfortunately, neither is true. I have simply met with cognitive bankruptcy. Nothing to post. Not cos is all is well but because all is…the same shittiness and even my negative ass can’t be bothered to write about it.

So what changed?

I decided today would be a good day to fast and get my lithium levels done since I needed to go to town (civiliation) anyway. Going over the ‘lab order’ for this, I discovered….NO ONE BOTHERED TO TELL ME I NOW ALSO HAVE A BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER DIAGNOSIS.

I was unamused. They are so quick to hand out borderline even if you only meet a few of the criterion, which could also relate to bipolar disorder…yet you can have 8 out of 10 marks toward attention deficit disorder and no 2 psych pros can agree it’s legit. What the actual fuck, people? Not saying I don’t own some borderline issues, but if going by their precious DSM (Douchebaggery Simpleton Manual,all versions), I score far higher as ADD. Not ADHD, just ADD, no hyperactivity. And YES ADULTS WITH ADD/ADHA IS A THING The article/writer’s text on the hassle of getting meds for ADHD as an adult aren’t drama, it’s all real. Docs can’t agree I have it, insurance refuses to cover it all around, so wow, is it a shock I never make real progress>

Hours later and that ‘borderline’ mark on my paperwork still bothers me. I was content with my personality disorder diagnosis of ‘otherwise not specified’ because I have a little of this, little of that, little over yonder, but…It was never complete and always resulted in ‘not otherwise specified’. To learn that I have a new diagnosis, NEVER CAUGHT BEFORE BY THERAPISTS OVER 25 YEARS, well….I’m kinda wanting some heads on pikes. And I want a head on a flaming bike belonging to which ever ‘professional’ decided to slap borderline on my file. You’d think you would know what doctor (ish person) labeled you borderline but because my psych center is a merry go round of providers….I don’t have a clue. And I would still take umbrage if it was made by my favorite doctor B. In relationships, I exhibit a lot of borderline traits. On my own…I show very vew of them. So paredon me if I am not convinced by a few ink dabbles in my file from someone who didn’t take time to get to know what I truly am.

This past week I’ve been distracting my brain by binge watching the show “Power”. Which is basically “Empire” minus the record label and music. Honestly, if I have to hear another song or conversation with the icky word ‘n*****r’ or “n***a’ in it, it will be too soon. I understand they are painting a certain segment of life in a certain area but….Offensive is just offensive, for fuck’s sake. You don’t want people using icky negative words, don’t glamorize it. (Let the hatred come now.) Just….if it offends my white ass because I have more respect for people of color….don’t defend it is some cultural thing, that’s lame.

I am *trying* to keep our kittens alive cos the mama is over them (zero interest from her) and they still need nurtured…My kid is doing ok at school but still needs nurtured…Everyone needs nurtured and I am supposed to be the giver but I am feeling pretty bankrupt…

Do not EVER mistake functionality means someone is leading a quality lift.

I am living proof that someone can keep going and going and going….and keep going…only to be utterly without the will to live.

The Monsters Under My Skin, Under My Bed, and Inside My Head…need evicted

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , , , on August 22, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

ARGH! EEK! THE HORROR! They’ve been warning for a couple of weeks but I got my first look at Google’s idea of an ‘upgrade’ to Gmail and it’s…wretched. Eww, I can’t make heads or tails of it, make it go away, for the love of pegacorn. (Kinda like wordpress constantly reminding me to try ‘their new improved method of posting’, oh, egad, noooo, I am using the same template from 7 years ago, that new one is utter crap.) Oh, and YES, absolutely, I fear and despise change but what it boils down to is, if it isn’t easier for me to use, then it’s a downgrade, not an upgrade and IT BLOODY WELL SUCKS.

Been a few days since I posted, just haven’t been feeling it. Too many racing thoughts and the inability to sort them into something coherent. The good news is MY KID IS BACK AT SCHOOL, WOO HOO, another summer survived of Uzichild firing at my brain daily. Of course, that anxiety has been replaced by the anxiety that she could get sick at school or the bus could crash and what if I step away from my phone and miss the call…Scumbag brain is never ever satisfied unless fretting over something.

We went to the animal attraction the other day. Much as I loved feeding the goats (GOATS RULE!!!!) and seeing lemurs and the white tiger and Capuchin monkeys, I couldn’t help but feel like a real asshole. Animals as entertainment, that’s warped. Though for me, it was more educational and ‘we don’t get to see exotic animals here’. My kid could have used the $5 mom gave her to ride a camel, get a picture with the diaper wearing monkey, but instead…she used it for a pony ride. Those poor ponies looked so sad. But this is the midwest and pony rides are everywhere, personally if I’d had money I’d have gotten the camel ride and a pic with diaper monkey. That’s just me. It made Spook happy and that was the whole point. That and I got a pic of an adorable ring tailed lemur and THE GOATS!!! (I had a pet goat as a child, they have a near and dear place in my heart, as do the llamas, my grandpa had one and it spit on me…it was the last animal he purchased before he passed away so what’s a lil llama spit for a flashback to a good memory?)

So…monsters under my skin. In an asshole move at Spook’s bday party I boasted “I’ve made it all summer with my flea allergy acting up!” See, my kid will have 3 flea bites. Me? This is what I get due to my allergy.

We couldn’t afford flea treatments for the cats so the fleas are feasting on me. I ran out of Claritin non drowsy so I got some benadryl from stepmonster and spent 3 days feeling all stoned and sleepy and still itching like a mofo. And the poor cats, they got an herbal treatment from the dollar store, but it did fuck all so fleas galore. I even had the herbal natural treatment for the indoors the former tenants left behind and…fail. I’m pretty miserable. Like I said my kid gets 3 bites, barely bothers her. Because I have histamine overdose and an allergy to flea bites…I look like I have scabies. Ewww. But been this way every summer since I was 7. The only time it’s less severe is the few times I could get the cats Advantage 2. That shit is expensive but man does it work.

Monsters under my bed…That’s a metaphor for how much I am in denial of certain things. Like housework. It’s just not that important to me. But we’re out of clean silverwear so I should get on the dishes…Except I’ve been TRYING to mow the lawn for 3 and a half hours except the grass is damp and it keeps killing the mower so I have to stop and clean out the clumps of wet greenery. I am waiting til later in hopes it will dry out, I got one side and the front yard done, which is about 1/2 of the entire lawn. Just…grr, I don’t get along well with vacuums or mowers. The mower is dad’s and I saw a puff of smoke come out of it earlier, so I am probably fucking it up unintentionally which will open me up to more paternal berating. It was mentioned how I don’t mow ‘properly’ in long even rows but it’s such a big yard, so daunting, the only way I can make sense of it is to work in small quadrants. So maybe it’s choppy instead of neat little mow lines but if it gets done, fuck it. My shoulder is sore from yanking on the cord to start it and my hands are to the point of blisters from pushing the thing, it vibrates worse than a magic fingers motel bed.

Monsters inside of my head…It’s only been 5 days but I can’t tell a damn bit of difference with the Prozac combined with Cymbalta. On the other hand, Prazosin seems to be helping with the bad dreams. I’m still dreaming, still waking up multiple times a night, but I barely remember my dreams and they’re not what wakes me in a cold sweat so that’s a plus. Or placebo effect. I’m just still feeling anxious and paranoid and yeah, “is it bedtime yet?”. I can’t expect the meds to work overnight and hey, no shitty side effects is a win, but my frustration is at fever pitch. I need to get out of this stagnant mental space. I need to feel some pure joy. (Anyone wanna buy me a pet lemur? j/k)

So…that’s my rant for now. I’d like to note I lost a couple of followers and normally that would make me bummed but then I realize I’m pretty rambling, outspoken, and not everyone’s cup of tea. I’m more like a cup of tea that may or may not have arsenic in it, so yeah, beware before you sip. Who says I’m not self aware?

Here’s the link to our fundraiser, gonna keep it going cos hope springs eternal.

I DO Really Care, Do YOU?

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , on August 18, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

So quickie post (hopefully I can shut the rambling down)…And NO, in spite of the title, this has zero to do with politics or fashion or any of that stuff.

I saw my ‘one and done’ doc yesterday. She was AWESOME! She is leaving, but I get to see her one more time in six weeks before she goes. OMG, she was so easy to talk to and she was really impressed when I spoke of SSRIs, SNRIs, MAOIs. I guess a lot of people don’t do much research, they just take the pills cos the doc says to? But long before I had a computer or internet access I was buying pill books and physician’s reference materials, wanting to learn as much as I could about my diagnoses and the medications to treat them. As I told Dr. T, ignorance is a choice and I choose not to be ignorant on this matter. Sooo we’re gonna try Prozac and she tossed in one called Prazosin which is a blood pressure med but has apparently been effective helping PTSD sufferers like military vets ward off bad dreams. Little scared to take it after the gabapentin debacle but she was concerned enough with my talk of my bad dreams that she prescribed it so I will give it a whirl and hope for the best.

What surprised me most, I think, is that when I explained about the move and us basically being run out of the only home we knew for 9 years…she said that it was a sort of trauma and while we are adapting, I may be experience a post traumatic stress reaction to that kind of upheaval. And I was floored, because short of seeing military action or sexual abuse, the shrinks usually don’t throw out terms like PTSD. She had a point, though, it was VERY stressful and traumatizing. So hopefully the new combo with that blood pressure stuff and the Prozac added to the Cymbalta things will improve. I can’t keep running on nightmare sleep jaunts, I took an accidental nap today and that ain’t me. But it was better than the nausea that hit me after I took my meds. And I ATE first, so wtf?

When I dropped Spook off today, my nephew’s gf was babysitting a 9 month old baby and I swear just holding that little girl was like huffing paint. And I’ve never huffed paint but I guess it gets you high and it’s addictive and babies are like that for me. Though my daughter has given me very specific instructions on what I am allowed to do as far having another baby-no boys- and if I find a guy with kids, no boys, only girls, and they have to get on her schedule cos she’s not changing to suit them. That little demon is soo my spawn. I have no plans to have another baby (sad sad sad) and I’d like to say at 45, my chances are nil but my maternal grandmother was 49 when she had my mom so never say never…Just…babies, human and animals, are so pure and sweet and not corrupted by the nastiness of the world…that innocence, I crave it, as if maybe some of that decency can rub off on me.

A sad moment the other day in town. There was a man standing outside the Hellmart plaza with a big posterboard and a sign that said “Help if you can, no work.” And my kid said, “Why doesn’t get a job?” And that was when I hit her with the very relevant point- you may want to work but if no one will hire you, obviously you can’t. And maybe this guy was full of shit and just looking to bilk people for booze money, IDK. I had one penny on me or I’d have tossed him some change. I’ve done it before because sadly, that plaza sees several people every year who stand there with signs about being out of work. It’s just…my daughter reminds me of my dad, who also thinks it’s as simple as ‘get a job.’ Well some of us aren’t that stable. And even when I was stable, I couldn’t put a gun to their head and make them hire me. I remember one year there were two openings at a local hotel for housekeepers. Over a hundred women showed up trying to get those positions. This is area is just…on life support and failing miserably at staying alive.

Tomorrow I am taking my kid to the once a year wild animal exhibit, which I have mixed feelings about. I sign all these petitions for animal rights and end of cruelty to them, so by going there, I’m being a hypocrite…But then, I don’t know how they treat the animals, they may be good to them…Anyway it’s free to see them and take pictures and she wants to go and personally, I love seeing the lemurs (wish they had sloths, they are too cute). Guess my mom scraped up the required $5 in coins so Spook can get her picture taken with the white tiger. I wasn’t wanting another trip to town, that makes 4 in 5 days but since the pharmacy only gave me two of my meds today, I have to go back. Seems they were bickering with the insurance company who did not want to pay for the fluoxetine tablets the doc prescribed, they only cover capsules. WTF, it’s under $20 generic, that is asinine. Two birds, one stone, and I get a happy kid, too.

So much for a brief post but my rambling seems to be staying on topic.

Final note…Thanks to S. who donated to our fund, we are grateful more than words can say, it’s just been a tough month. Hell it’s been a tough year.

So if you care…please share. If don’t hate…please donate.

I normally barter with people to get what we gotta have by cooking them meals but I don’t think this laptop has a teleporter to move food so…Your hair looks good and what a pretty smile you have…Flattery not working? It’s good karma and we will pay it forward. $5 or $10 means a lot to us. Gotta get the school her $25 technology fee somehow. Apparently, children are unable to properly learn without using Ipads.

And yet most of us born before 1995 are more literate with reading and handwriting than the new generation.

Just sad, schools, sad sad sad. By not teaching kids to enjoy paper and ink books, by not letting them develop handwriting skills and relying on devices…you are dooming them if the computers are ever knocked out. Half of them won’t be able to sign their names.

That’s why I got my kid books for her birthday and a pen and a journal. She may prefer youtube and Minecraft on the tablet more, but I’ll be damned if I am going to end up with a high school graduate who can’t even sign a legal document in cursive and read something that’s not on an LCD screen. Call me old school but one day when technology goes haywire…the new/next gen will be grateful for us dinosaurs insisting they do more than commune with electronic devices and the internet. Unfortunately, the school still needs their damn fee. $25 could buy a lot of used books…

So I really do care, do you?

The Pretty And Popular People And Stuff Bore Me Into A Coma

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , on August 16, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

So the pre appointment anxiety is building and I can’t seem to shake it so allow me to focus on something trivial.

So as a distaction I tend to look for shows that are unknown to me (no cable) and I found one that only lasted two seasons and I was totally sucked into it. But wandering mind that I have, I started looking up stuff about it and came across pages devoted to nothing but people trashing the show. Until I read those, I didn’t notice that yeah, it’s a little less than ideal but it’s entertaining. To each their own, right? And a lot of people made the point that the way it paints people who live in Alabama is a sort of reverse racism, as if everyone is poor, uneducated, and corrupt or on drugs or the dole or overweight and lazy and nasty.

I guess what makes it appealing to me is that most scenes take place in a poverty ridden trailer park. And while our former home was pretty trashy inside and out…It was our home for 9 years and me and Spook truly miss it. It was familiar. But I suppose it also got too comfy in spite of its many, many flaws and leaving was a blessing. Not that we had a choice. We ended up better off in our living situation even if it’s in Armpit and costs way more than the trailer did. It’s just difficult not to miss the home we knew for 9 years. And honestly, some of the places we lived in when I was growing up weren’t a hell of a lot better than the crappy trailer everyone dissed. One house, the hot water heater broke and my parents couldn’t afford to replace it so we had to boil big pans of water on the stove and SHARE nasty ass bathwater. My parents like to rewrite history but I remember it clearly. And it was frustrating but I never judged them, they did the best they could with what they had. Which one day I hope my daughter realizes is all I’ve ever tried to do for her, lackluster and inadequate as it might be at times.

Another thing I relate to, though the show is way way worse, is the tense family drama. My family doesn’t include incess and children born of it and drug deals ending up with machine gun fire but there’s drama and backstabbing galore. I get it.

One thing I think the show got a little wrong was how nice the trailers all were on the inside, sans one. The outsides were as ramshackle as the one we lived in, but inside, they’re all tidy and in good repairm sans the one where the morbidly obese hoarding mother from hell lives in her bed. While a lot of mobile home parks are indeed a bit more upscale than what we had…I cannot fathom that in rural Alabama in trailers that look that awful outside with lawns full of junk are that nice on the inside. Yeah, that’s my takeaway, because like I said, trivial bullshit post.

What I am learning, well, not learning cos I know myself…I like this show because apparently, few others did and I do love the mass hated obscure stuff even if the acting is questionable and the storylines a little uneven. It sucked me in, that’s good enough for me. I may indulge in popular shows like “The Flash” and ‘Grey’s Anatomy”, I also have a passion for lesser shows. Case in point, “Code Black” which they canceled but there are rumors it may be revived. I LOVE that show. It’s stark and it shows how fucked up our healthcare system is and how many docs in large cities give their all for little pay. And the cast is usually in scrubs, looking worn and exhausted, no glamor at all.

Pretty people are nice to look at but man, they bore me. And the whole popularity contest bored me even in junior high and with the internet and social (disease) media, it’s only gotten worse and no longer applies to school kids, it’s adults even. And it’s not gonna get better when even “The MOst Powerful man In The Free World” has daily social media rants about people being mean to him and not agreeing with him, yet very little relevant to current situations in the world. (Very little truth anyway, and that’s non partisan, I don’t like being lied to or having things distorted from any side.) So even the adults are acting like teenage bullies and it only makes my disdain for ‘all things popular’ grow.

The Masses Are Asses, to quote L7 yet again.

Am I being unfair and judgmental? Perhaps. But this is who I have always been, it’s not simply relegated to current polital regimes or circumstances. Even as a 12 year old, I always veered away from what was trendy or popular and sought out obscure stuff. Which, of course, like Guns N Roses, suddenly became less interesting to me when the masses decided suddenly they were cool and didn’t suck. (A year before when I was jamming Appetite For Destruction, everyone said GNR was the worst band ever.)

If you are a popular, pretty person, I am sorry to offend but as stated prior, I don’t like putting on a front and I don’t like being lied to, so I’m not gonna do that myself. This is how I feel, who I am, and while not out to hurt anyone…I can’t be anything but what I am, what I’ve been since I was a young kid.

Give me a less than pretty or popular but smart and funny person any time. The flaws are interesting (as long as they’re not toxic.) Same goes for entertainment and music. Just because a zillion people think it’s the best thing since sliced bread (Waling Dead, Hunger Games, Game Of Thrones) it’s not my cup of tea.

This is me. And it may be why I am not popular in blogging circles and why my fundraisers are epic fails but…I’m not going to start being anything but true to myself. Even if it’s not pretty or popular.

High school’s over people, time to grow the fuck up even if the internet says otherwise. Like what you like, do not apologize, and fuck ’em and feed ;em to the fish. Life is too short to try to please others. Especially when the masses are never ever going to be pleased. Drama and insults are just the new past time and they ain’t letting it go any time soon.

Strive to be better than that. And don’t judge me for referencing the L7 song, because honestly, it’s practically scientifically proven that the masses are indeed asses. Pack mentality is healthy for no one, ever.

Round And Round

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , , , on August 16, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

I have the appointment tomorrow afternoon with the new shrink for an emergent (only cos someone canceled) visit…so of course, I can’t stop the racing thoughts or quell the anxiety enough for sleep. In spite of my nighttime 1mg Xanax and 15 mg melatonin.

Which brings me to an oddity. I switched to a different store/brand/strength of melatonin because honestly, my nerves couldn’t handle stopping at yet another place. But melatonin is melatonin,right? And going from 6 mg to 10 I should be sleeping like a baby, right? NOPE. I don’t know if this brand uses different buffers (how that would impact its effectiveness, I have no idea, but something is up) or whatnot, but a stronger strength and 4 hours later I’m not even yawning, let alone sleepy? WTF? It does, however, lend credence to how bizarrely my system responds to/tolerates medications and even supplements. It is working fine for my kid (and YES, her pediatrician okayed its use with her because, well, she’s a fricking battery bunny) so it’s just me. Makes me wish I had a few extra bucks to throw around so I could buy the old brand, see if the lower strength of it would still half ass work. Which is was, though it was taking longer and longer to kick in. Not 4 or 5 hours, though, this is maddening.

Round and round, scumbag brain goes. (Damn, now I’ve got Ratt’s ‘Round and Round’ stuck in my head, kick ass tune but not a lullabye.)

I keep going over in my head what I want to say to this ‘one and done’ shrink. The receptionist who lobbied so hard to get me in said I might be waiting awhile cos Dr. T is very thorough and does not rush, she actually takes time with patients. But as it is ‘one and done’, I wonder if I will be on a ticking clock trying to plead my case or if she will want to basically quiz me on multiple boring aspects of my dysfunction. What I need most is a doctor who at least feigns interest and lets me talk without asking me all the standard snooze questions. I think I can answer all the basics if I am allowed a couple of minutes to state my case.

State my case. Dear God. Every time I see a new doc/nurse practitioner, it’s like I’m on a job interview. But instead of trying to impress on them how awesome I am, I am trying to make them see that while I may be out of bed and shambling through the motions…this isn’t living and it sure is hell isn’t being ‘not depressed.’

The problem with shrinks is that they all subscribe to different beliefs. I won’t do the Freud/Yung/Ink Blot debate but like it or not, it carries weight. Like that dreaded osteopath shrink who only thought 3 meds belonged on the formulary as they are all the same. (Blatantly, and scientifically proven wrong, but he would not hear of it, perioddotcom.) It was a clusterfuck for me because he was a pleasant enough man. He wasn’t rude, wasn’t (too) dismissive, he even reconsidered seeing me because he refused to prescribe Xanax and I made it clear, I’d tried the others, they don’t work, so buh bye. He tried to work with me, to an extent, but it always came back to his beliefs, they trumped my needs.

So every new psych pro it feels like I am auditioning for a role in whatever production they’re directing. That sounds half delusional, like I’ve lost touch with reality, but I assure you I have not. (If I had, I wouldn’t be fretting money issues, I’d be oblivious to reality, duh.) Doctors, intentionally or not, become jaded over the years. They see a lot of people who are malingerers, addicts who simply don’t want to change their behavior, people who won’t take their meds properly so they end up in the same place again…It’s a shame a bunch of assholes end up screwing those of us who are the real deal and want help and are there seeking it. So I get this ‘pre appointment’ anxiety (even with established docs/etc, but to a lesser degree) and it sends my mind into a tailspin. Circular thoughts, kind of OCD, start in, then the spinning randomness comes, where my brain feels like one of those machines that blows around lotto balls but one never pops up for me.

I am pondering whether to share my earlier epiphany about how the Cymbalta has seemingly rewired my brain so that my only creativity happens in my dreams thus I dread being awake and crave sleep even with the dark nightmarish images. It sounds a little out there, but there’s a large percentage of people of a creative nature (music, art, writing, et al) who struggle with bipolar one or two and know off the meds, they risk manic behavior or a clinical depression but because the mood stabilizers tend to squash down all your creativity along with the poorly behaved brain chemicals. And some people are willing to roll the dice on self destruction with mania or depression just so they can practice whatever creative, artistic thing they are passionate about.

Fortunately for me, I found a mood stabilizer (Lamictal) that doesn’t quash my creativity. I get writer’s block from hell, but that was going on long before I ever had a psych diagnosis, let alone meds, so I don’t blame that on my condition or the meds. Now the goal is to find an anti depressant that lifts my mood (without mania) but doesn’t flip the script on my creativity and doesn’t result in even poor sleep patterns that I already had. Will this ‘one and done’ doc listen to me? Will she believe me?

In the past, I’ve come in with journal entries, print outs of relevant posts, and not one professional has wanted to read them. I think it’s the optimal way of knowing what is going on in a person’s mind. I get nervous, self conscious, disillusioned, and oh, yeah, nervous, when I see docs so I may not present properly. But my thoughts written as they are at various times…That’s the real deal. That’s what is happening in my mind, it’s the best gauge of “Is this chick putting me on because she’s too weak to cope with reality sucking, or is she truly feeling this poorly?” Alas, my insurance is crap, this psych center can’t keep docs or nurses, and their case load is so astounding, they can barely afford to give 10 minutes to each patient (yet they always bill insurance for 20 minutes, how is that even ethical, let alone legal?). So I doubt I will ever find a doc around here who will do me the honor of actually getting to know what’s going on in my brain, not just during that ten minute visit, but during the weeks and months when I am not being treated. Unless someone wants to adopt us and pay for us to move to a less….rural choiceless area…

So I tell myself to chill out, calm down, just go in, tell the truth, and pray upon the sacred spork and pegacorn that I will be heard and she will see that the current med combo is not working in a positive way for me so it needs to be changed. Honestly, it’s gotten to the point I was considering anti psychotics and of the 7 I have tried, they did nothing but make me sick, oversedate me, and displayed zero positive impact. But obviously someone who’s constantly paranoiad (but no voices being heard) and only wants to go to bed ever single moment of the day, that’s pretty psychotic, right? Much like Trazadone, though, those meds are simply too harsh with too little benefit for me to consider, seriously, using them again unless I do indeed start wearing a tin foil hat (no offense if that’s your style, I once dressed head to toe in foil and went as a Hershey’s Kiss for Halloween) and hearing zebras telling me to attack random produce with a spork…Nope.

I guess I am gonna try to the sleep thing again. It’s almost midnight and the spawn will no doubt be up at the crack of ass, chattering me into submission, so I need whatever sleep I can get. Oh, I miss the days when I’d say, “Sleep is for sissies” or I’d quote lyrics from the Bon Jovi song about sleeping when I’m dead. That was just 11 years ago. I guess my uterus doing its job and hosting the spawn really fucked up my already fucked up brain chemicals and while my mind remains sort of stunted at around 30, my body has reached 45 and simply can’t keep its old pace. To my credit, however, at Spook’s birthday party, one of her friends brought her man with her, and he had to ask who was the older sibling, me or my sister. She’s six years younger. So I must be faring pretty well if I’m not clearly looking older than her. Meh, it feels like a tiny bit of flattery, I’m gonna take it.

Mr. Sandman, bring me a good mystery with a plot twist or two so I remember what creative juices feel like. I can take or leave the dead skeleton of the murder victim being hoisted out of the pool at the wedding reception.

Man that was a fucked up dream. More, please. That’s how much I miss my creative side. Nightmares are more fulfilling than wakefulness. And I live for my daughter so…this is unacceptable. This one and done doc better change the regime or I’m gonna go Beavis and Butthead and start looking Hallucinogenic toads to lick.

(Creative license, toads are icky.)