Archive for October, 2018

This Just In…

Posted in mental health blog with tags , , , , , , , on October 30, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

After 3 dismal days of barely functioning…I had a good mental health day today. I tackled the chore of dishes, mowed a patch of lawn, and straightened up the Halloween decor for trick or treaters.(As if the local yokels will allow their precious redneck snowflakes to come here, it’s been 7 months and they only let their kids play with mine if she is at my dad’s house…never mind how many times I’ve tried to get the moms to contact me about playdates.)

All in all, though. I wasn’t up or down or in the middle. I was just living my life. Kicking myself for not accomplishing more yet trying to pat myself on the back for what I did get done. My kid changed her mind a 4th time on her Halloween costume, though it’s going to be raining both days and nights so I don’t suppose it matters.

I am crossing my fingers that my check deposits early so I can get her shoes to wear to the daddy/daughter dance where I will be serving as dad Friday night. Otherwise, she has nothing but tennis shoes and hideous cowgirl boots to wear the beautiful (used) black satin and velvet dress I got for her to wear. What I’ve learned the last couple of months is that ‘receieve your direct deposit up to two days early’ really isn’t written in stone. More like asking a Magic 8 ball. So since I need it desperately to try and find her some decent used shoes at a thrift store…chances are I won’t get it til after the dance. Which will mean fashion hell for her so she’ll hate me for going in boots and getting laughed at or she will be mad at that we didn’t go…

I can’t win, tired of trying. I’m just gonna do my best and hope it’s enough to not traumatize her too much.

I am gonna try to skip Seroquel (scary-quel) tonight, see if maybe I have less trouble getting up in the morning. We’ll see how long the melatonin lasts, if it even kicks in. Money has me so stressed, and Halloween which is supposed to be my happy time yet just becomes even more stress…Grrr. But for three days I felt so lethargic and leaden the morning after Seroquel, I just can’t see myself living in that kind of stupor. And it’s so easy to get attached to sleepers as a crutch, a way to hasten sleep to escape a reality that isn’t pleasant…I did that for a couple of years before my kid was born and I swore I’d never go back to it.

Maybe I will just ‘date’ Seroquel on weekends when I don’t need to be up at the crack of ass and functional immediately.

None of my problems were solved. I didn’t accomplish as much as I’d wanted. But…it was a good mental health day and those come rarely so raise the metaphoric glass. You celebrate the tiny things when they are in fact huge things for you. Only tiny to people with normally ordered brains.Disordered minds…good mental health days are to be celebrated and embraced.

Single Parenting While Bipolar

Posted in Uncategorized on October 29, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Spewage about parenting while under the influence of bipolar disorder.


Posted in Uncategorized on October 29, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

If you write a blog post but don’t put it in a category with bunches of tags, does it even exist? It’s the tree forest thing. Falling trees make sound even without earwitnesses, blog posts exist without readers. And maybe for this one that is a good thing.

I’m still not sleeping solidly even with Seroquel. Bout the best I can say is what sleep I have been getting has been more restful but also accompanied with an hour long battle to get out of bed in the morning. And while I have a couple of hours feeling rested, by mid afternoon I’m sleepy, and the depression just keeps tugging me downward, and my kid is all drama and demands so I let her spend quite a bit of time at grandpa’s this weekend then feel guilty for taking the break and still not feeling less anxious, less depressed, less tired.

I keep telling myself it will pass, starting new meds always comes with side effects and a change in mental state. All I feel is hopeless. So I tell myself I’ve earned another night of half ass rest and maybe tomorrow will be different but…how can it be if my mental state never is? I am so sick of even the doctors being blinded by minimal functionality. I don’t feel like life is a gift. It’s a chore and I am just waiting to die. And yeah, it sounds fucking warped and ungrateful and I just can’t work up half a fuck…

I don’t like where my mind is right now. I hate being alone with it, yet I can’t share it outside of this blog on line for I might harsh everyone else’s mellow with my ‘silly mood swings’. So I vent on line and look like a perpetual complainer but this is my only outlet.

Only one thing to do when I sink to moods like this. Hole up in Fort Blankie, wait for the pills to kick in, and sleep it off. I’ll rest up and try putting up more of a fight against the depressive inertia tomorrow.
Click here or a pegacorn gets its wings chopped off.

Taglessly yours,


The Murder Bunny

Posted in depression with tags , , , , on October 27, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

If wondering wtf is with the post title…stick around and find out.

I did not get solid sleep last night even with Seroquel. It took 2 hours to kick in and I was awake every 2 or hours but then when my kid got up at 7:15…I couldn’t get out of bed. I was awake but my body may as well have been leaden. I guess if it’d been a school day I might have risked the pinball side to side bruising the Seroquel shuffle causes but…it wasn’t a school day so I did the same as yesterday and just lay in bed awake,waiting for the fog to clear enough so I might get to the bathroom without injuring myself.

I don’t like this shit. I mean, what sleep I did get feels different than prior to Seroquel, like even segmented it’s a deeper, more restful sleep…Down side, however, is that I hit 2 p.m and now I just feel sleepy, sluggish, heavy, leaden, and I can’t nod off but I can’t seem to ‘wake up’ enough to do anything. My kid is with my dad’s faction for the rural football and bonfire festivities til 9 p.m. so I could totally get in some sleep but it ain’t coming naturally. The sun is a trigger for anxiety and prevents sleep even with darker curtains and my mind is shuffling about with all the feelings of shame and feelings of self worthlessness. I want to get stuff done. I want to feel better. I want to create, to accomplish, to break out and branch out.

Times like this are when I so miss the old school internet chatrooms. They were a great support for me for so many years but now it’s all shallow social media and texting and…It’s too much damned work. I liked chat rooms for a reason. If it’s labeled ‘depression’, good chance I won’t be wasting my time with some wanna-be sexter. There’s no escape from the wading pool that is human vapidity. I’m not saying I’m all deep or special but I know once the chat rooms faded away…

I lost a large part of myself. And I even tried to restart a chat room and like everything else in my life, it was of little interest to others and even I ended up down the rabbit hole, abandoning what I had created. This isn’t as simple as missing old school ways. There was a mentality to certain chat rooms, supportive, humorous in spite of misery overload, there was a sense of community and feeling like you could wander on line at any hour and find at least one person lurking who’d hear you out on whatever had you reeling. Now it’s all tablets and cell phones and apps and 160 characters and…it makes me more depressed, not less. I have tried to let go of the past and ‘get with the times’ but…

Turns out, I am just one of those stubborn people who get pissed off when things that worked perfectly fine are ‘fixed’ ‘updated’ ‘improved’ ‘phased out’, etc. Chat fromat was wonderful for a lot of us and it just sucks that it ‘went out of style’. That’s like saying getting your driver’s license and a car as a teenager is not longer in style. WTF? Some things are timeless, even when progress carries us forward.

So yeah, I am sad sacking about days of old, I am beating up on myself because I can’t even sleep right, even with the aid of pills, and now that I’ve had a break from my kid, I miss the hell out of her babbling cos at least it drowned out my own brain’s dysfunction.

Now…One of the coolest decorations of the Halloween season I’ve found…I present…

The Murder Bunny.

Looks to me like he might just wanna get some vengeance for his brethren and boil Glenn Close.

Weekend meet and greet come join me!

Posted in Uncategorized on October 27, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

When every desire you have says avoid people like the plague…do the opposite cos you’re bipolar and it works that way. Get to meeting and greeting.

Therapy Bits

Hi guys
I thought Iโ€™d do a meet and greet this weekend! Come on and join in! You know you wanna!
So the rules, because thereโ€™s gotta be some rules, right? But only a few!
1 Put a link to your own blog, or someone elseโ€™s on this page
2 Reblog this and like the post.
3 Go visit other blogs that have joined in and show some love!

These are the rules, so simple!
So come on lets get meeting and greeting guys!
Welcome to the weekend! And welcome to Carol anne meet and greet!

The meet and greet will stay open until Monday! So go on, join in! ๐Ÿ˜›


View original post

7th Day Is A Charm

Posted in bipolar depression, depression with tags , , , , on October 27, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

*Disclaimer-not for the faint of heart or easily offended*

I went 7 straight days without washing my hair or bathing. (You’d be amazed what some dry shampoo and Irish Spring on wet wipes can do to not attract attention to your basic lack of hygiene.) I tried self pep talks, bullying, rewarding myself for doing ‘the task’…I felt disgusting and disgusted. I felt ashamed and lazy and possibly like a non human.

Almost made it to day 8 but tonight I just caved. I mean, it seemed stupid that I washed all our bedding and I’d be putting my skankiness on clean sheets that smell better than I do. Since we only have a bath and the windows let cold air in like an AC, bathing has become a true task of discomfort when it’s not warm out. I feel a lot better now but I am still giving myself the pats on the back because…depression’s not some silly game people play when they’re ill or uncomfortable. This is a condition that kills people even if by law they call it suicide. Any victory over depression deserves a pat on the back and a high high five, as well. I’m done with all the guilt trips and shame and feeling worthless. I am fightng for my life here and seems to me people are in denial or want to shrug it off. I wish it were that simple.

I am having a tough week with my child’s mood swings. At the trailer park, she never wanted alone time, there had to be a kid or six there every single day. Now she only has the one friend who lives close and suddenly she needs alone time and I am forcing her to play with him and it’s just become this whole dramatic whiplash thing. The kid doesn’t much bother me when he visits or I babysit him. He hugged my leg today, kissed my cheek, and told me he loved me and would see me tomorrow. So it isn’t him that’s stressing me out. I play T-Rex puppet with the kid and he giggles and has a blast. It’s MY OWN CHILD I can’t seem to relate to or get along with. She’s showing not just a flair for drama, but blatant lying. Everything I speak, even when it is whispered, is ‘yelling at her’. If I don’t let her gorge herself on food, I am a starver. If I let her gorge then I am the reason she has a tummy ache and is in pain. Put her to bed too early, I am mean. Don’t make her go to bed so she gets enough sleep, then she is tired because of me. She throws blame all around except her own direction.

Guess this is what it’s like to live with me. I don’t know since I can’t ever be on the other side. I’m stuck here, with myself, awful as I apparently am. I don’t have the luxury of standing on the outside, looking in, and saying ‘hey, dick move, don’t be that way!” when I am making dick moves. The biggest differences between me and my child are that I can, and do, point out when I am wrong (assuming I can see it or am told) and I own it. Man, I’ve done some shitty things in the past that probably earned the shabby treatment I received but it wasn’t til the last few years that actually began to sink into my brain. Not everything is everyone else. Sometimes it’s me.

But the other difference between my child and I is that I have huge conscience issues. She can lie to your face or hit you and she never feels bad unless called on it, then it’s crocodile tears. Only for herself, though. She has no empathy, a trait I fear may be embedded in the genetic code she got from the donor. Or maybe again, it’s me, and 9 year olds are supposed to make you think “what a psychopath!” ten times a day. I remember how much crap the donor gave me about my heavy conscience and “Jewish guilt”, as he called it, all the while I was constantly wondering why nothing ever really made him seem to truly feel bad and if it did, it wasn’t for long and somehow it was never his own fault. On this count, I am praying I just don’t have proper gasp of what a 9 year old’s emotions should be and not that my child will be a footnote in some book about childhood psychopathy due to bad genetics. I really really want to be wrong.

Hm,…other things. I did night 1 with Seroqel. Was supposed to take 25mg but I had no clue where the splitter was and these things don’t easily break in two so I downed it. I was still awake almost 3 hours later and then…it was like a ninja came in and knocked me out. I woke once during the night, and was so loopy I dumped my water on the floor trying to stumble out of bed to the bathroom..But aside from that, I slept pretty well til my kid woke me at 8 a.m. Technically, I didn’t get out of bed til 9:30 cos I was so grogged out, but I was awake and fighting my best to shake off the seroquel. I’ve been on drunken benders and still managed to get to a bathroom without dumping water and bumping tables so I’m not sold on their pills being a better way to get to sleep over alcohol. I just can’t afford booze anymore.

I didn’t do much of anything today aside from the bedding and referee between my child and her little friend. Then my sister sent me numerous texts how all their cats have to be tested and vaccinated against feline lukemia and they have ten cats and even though there’s a combined monthly income of around $8000 in that one fucking house…poor them, they can’t afford it, they’re such bad pet owners. So what does that make me? I’m fostering 5 cats not because I can afford it but because I was given a 30 pound bag of food to house them so they didn’t go straight to the pound’s death chamber….Idk, talking to my sister used to make me feel happy. Now it’s just, how the fuck can one house bring in so much money every month and have even more to complain about that the pittance Spook and I survive on…

I made the mistake a couple weeks ago of saying I’d go to this Halloween thing with my dad and them, some sort of haunted house in a farm building and they have a bonfire and games for the kids…and at that time, my mental state was, “I’m tired of just being the candy chauffeur, I want to do something for Halloween!” And now that it’s tomorrow and the curse fucked up all my hormones and chemicals….I don’t want to go, at all. And I tried to tell my dad on the phone that I just need a break from my kid, and frankly, from people and noise. He just talked over me, said, “No, you can come, she’ll be playing with some of her classmates, you’ll get your break.” Dear God, I did almost 3 hours yesterday of social interaction with his woman, then I have the kids daily, and cats everywhere and I…want to be alone. Like, really, really alone, for an hour or two. I am allowed to change my mind and he’s being a fucking bully. Normally I might think, hey, I need the kick in the ass, but this just isn’t one of those times. My skin is crawling with anxiety, just thinking about it. I did my major act of depression defiance by taking a proper bath.

I’m drained. And it’s not sad or pathetic or lazy or wimpy or any of that societal bullshit to admit when depression’s gotten you worn down to little or nothing.

It’s truth.

Probably the only thing that can’t be considered fake news-speaking your own truth.

I’m gonna count this day a win and worry about tomorrow when it comes. But if I am turning down free food, a free ride to the place, and a free haunted house…

It means the ends of my rope are pretty frayed and I should stop pulling at them. Non depressive people will never grasp that concept.

Truth Is The Unpopular Kid On The Block

Posted in depression with tags , , , , on October 26, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Face it. When we aren’t being blindsided with political chaos daily or dipping a silly straw into the fake news milkshake of spun candy social media…Most are turning apathetic, going to extremes, and some are just diving headfirst into that sugary milkshake where they are the center of the world and quite frankly…I think there needs to be a hashtag #notallaboutme. And so my posts go unnoticed, my blog gathers cobwebs, and I am reminded daily that much like high school, you must assimilate to join the popular kids even on the internet. I didn’t cave as a bullied 13 year old, not caving now.

All any of us have is our own truth.

My truth isn’t glamorous or interesting or inspiring. It’s often dark and sad and somnolent, filled with anxiety attacks, night terrors on the rare jaunts of sleep I get…My kid is either in pre puberty, baby bipolar, or she plain hates me because around others, she’s just the sweetest lil thing…I’m a single mom on disability with no child support and it has become a HUGE issue and I am doing everything in my power to help myself and my child.

I wasn’t even in good enough mental shape to drive myself to town today to sign my kid up for Angel Tree so she’ll have something for Christmas. I am a control freak and psychotically independent and a loner but when my stepmonster offered me a ride into town so I could get Spook signed up…Left up to me, being so tapped out from all of yesterday’s appointments and driving, I might have just said never mind. But I sucked it up and went to town with stepmom and it wasn’t awful. She pretty much had a 2 hour conversation with herself and I think she likes it that way, cos I didn’t have much to say.

But yeah, when I’m not kicking and screaming against riding with someone else thus losing my control and being at their mercy…I’m dancing a razor’s edge here. So much so that I agreed to give 50mg Seroquel a shot at bedtime since I’m not even getting 2 hours without interruption. It’s hard to be low stress and cheerful when you’re always exhausted because your body is literally running on E.

Even still when the neighbor offered me ten bucks to get their kid off the bus and keep him til they got home in the evening…I knew it would be hard on my nerves (Spook’s insanely jealous if I even smile at other kids, and her mood swings have made it impossible to know if having company will make her happy or harpy)…I said sure. I like being helpful and I’ve done plenty of freebie sitting so it was nice to have a little something tossed my way for a change.

Not an hour in they were butting heads as only children do and I couldn’t get them under control. So I plopped in the floor and let them wrestle me and play hot potato with a toy and they were laughing and having fun and I didn’t think for a half hour or so how tired I was, how scared I am, or how screwed I am financially. Once they got so hyper and aggressive they knocked my glasses off my face, I had to step outside and give myself a time out. Not that it did much good cos all the poodles come to my house for the funky cold medina. Meaning, they follow me wherever I go. C because he likes me and Spook cos she’s insanely jealous of me showing attention to anyone else.

It was stressful as hell and I earned that ten bucks. Not saying their kid is bad or mine is good, just saying…I hadn’t had a Xanax in 36 hours but at the point…I knew I’d have to break down and swallow that bitter pill. My senses were on overload. I love making the kids laugh and having fun…I’m just at a point where the bare minimum functionality makes me bleed out. I don’t have much extra to spare BUT I AM TRYING TO DO WHATEVER IT TAKES TO SUPPORT MY KID, even to my own detriment. I’m not just sitting around eating bonbons hoping a pegacorn with spray me with magical bitcoin to keep the heat on and get a little Christmas for my kid.

I was relieved when C’s dad got him. He had a tauntrum though, didn’t want to leave. His dad said he’s always asking to come see Niki even when he knows my kid is sick or not home. Kids love me, people mostly don’t, always been like that for me. Maybe because kids can still believe in whimsical stuff like pegacorn bitcoin, Idk.


When filling out that Angel Tree paperwork the lady noted my monthly expenses versus income and pointed out that costs exceed income and gave me that ‘you got some splainin’ to do, Lucy’ look. I never set out for this shit but because a bunch of others decided to be dicks and sell out our old home thus forcing us to move to a place where expenses doubled and it was tough with child support but eekable barring catastrophes. The only fat to be trimmed would mean our internet and I’d rather not default on it cos I’ll still owe the full year long contract anyway…

This is MY TRUTH.

It’s not shiny or pretty or interesting or hastag anything trending…It’s not real news, it’s not fake news, it’s not celebrity gossipmongering, it’s just a very exhausted, very frightened single mom trying to do right by her kid while managing multiple mental health disabilities. This. Is. Us. Me and Spook. Trying to make the most out of circumstances we didn’t get a choice in making come about.

Maybe if I were bubbleheaded and named Morguedashian and wore a MAGA hat and posted a dozen selfies an hour and projectile Tweeted every day about how great I am, tell me how great I am…

Meh. Wasn’t worth it in 6th grade, sure as hell ain’t worth it now.

The truth is all I have and it would have meant something at some point in time. Maybe it will mean something in the future.

Right now…I think I will simply shun the popular crowd rather than starting a riot with words and rocks being lobbed.

Dignified behavior never goes out of style, 13 year old girl or 45 year old woman.