Archive for November, 2018

Accuracy of this! 😆

Posted in Uncategorized on November 30, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Me. YES. THIS!!!

Nothing can describe my mind better!


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Less Than 12 Minutes Of Chattiness

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

I plan to write a post later on but for the moment, I am gonna slap up a couple of quick videos I made last night and this morning. If you don’t watch videos, I feel you, I’m a reader so I don’t watch too many vlogs myself. But like a kid with a new toy, I’ve figured out how to upload videos and stopped worrying about trolls commenting on my looks so…I’m gonna play with my new toy a bit longer. The blog remains a blog, though, so now worries it is transitioning to anything else.

Our Page

Our wish list

Proof Of Laugh

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

Kidnappers would prompt you to ask for proof of life before paying a ransom. So how about I offer you Proof Of Laugh to show I am not just a self pitying depressive with a hand out? Depression may kick me while I am down but there are moments I make like a demented Jack In The Box and I ACTUALLY DO LAUGH.

Fundraiser here

Wish list here

And though not always funny or brief, there are a few other ranty videos on my channel.

My Dark Place Alone

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

Ok, so I am totally ripping off tbe name of a Murderdolls song with my title here but whatever. It fits, as the sun is almost gone and it is just now 5 p.m. I am in a mental dark space, ‘sundowning’, as you might call it. My kid, in spite of being allowed to play on the computer, is babbling and interrupting more than she did as an infant and it’s maddening. I could sit and stare at the wall in silence all day but in the moment I try to read, write, watch something, do housework- that is when she wants my attention and there’s hell to pay if she doesn’t get it. She’s an emotional terrorist that way, but most kids, and adults, are.

My decline in mental status for the holidays is in downward spiral at breakneck speed. I’ve been shown some kindness by a few supportive followers and I am so grateful…But the depression keeps telling me I’m a waste of space which is why some yahoo can raise $400,000 to buy themselves a BMW and I can’t even raise the $2000 it would take to get us out of debt and into a nice cushion space. Less pity, more utter frustration. I mean, c’mon, I offered to wear a chicken suit on youtube if people would help us out til this support thing is settled. (There’s a court order saying he HAS to pay, but they don’t know how to find him except via snail mail so…grrr, so fucking frustrating.)

But I am indeed in a dark place today and feeling all alone even if the kid’s yapping and the cats are clamoring. Because I know I have so much to be thankful for, to be hopeful for, but my damn brain sees the snow and feels the cold and it’s like this dark cloud sucking me up inside for the next 5 months where rays of sunshine dare not penetrate. I want it to go away, I want to feel hopeful and grateful and happy and like there’s more to life than bedtme…I’ve been on Prozac 60 mg for 4 months now, if it was gonna do any magic, it would have happened by now. Instead, I’m right back to clock watching and counting down til bedtime. Not because I get much peace in my dream laden interrupted sleep but because at least it’s a different mental space than the one I am stuck in right now.

I guess I’m lucky, if anyone with mental health issues can be considered lucky, that I’ve been struggling so long, I recognize the lies the depression tells and I know I cannot take anything I am feeling right now too hard. That’s a big ask when you feel it down to your bone marrow that life is pointless and would be a better place without you in it. Depression is a convincing, spiteful disorder.

I’ve been pasting on the mask for so long, trying to act ‘peppy’ for others, and the mask is slipping and cracking and I feel powerless to do anything about it.


I saw some guy give that much in an envelope to a lady on TV so she could get her dog treated for cancer and he said, for him, it was a tiny amount of money. Oh, please please please, can Spook and I have one of those guardian angels who’d view $2000 as a tiny amount. For us, it’d be like winning megamillions.

And honestly, part of my depression and anxiety come from the fact that I’ve been stuck in Armpit 6 days straight, unable to go anywhere, cos the car needs gas and I have no money atm. Choosing not to go out is one thing. But not being able to go out,even if to go see my mom, well, that bloody well sucks.

My kid wants seconds of the heart shaped pasta I made last night, better get to that before her head starts spinning around and pea soup is spewed. I love her but man, she’s got a mean streak.

I have NO idea who she gets it from. NONE. That’s my story and I am sticking to it.

I used to love the dark but dark places are no longer my favorite when it’s an inescapable place in my own mind. I hope the psych nurse has an idea where to go from here because…I’m ready to give up. On meds, on myself, on this crapfest called life.

The New Face Of PTSD

Posted in depression, PTSD with tags , , , , , , on November 28, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

This post is not a joke, not a pity party, and not intended to offend anyone. But my psychiatrist brought it to my attention this year that while no, I’ve never been abused or in the war…Things have happened to me that were very traumatic or happened repeatedly enough that it chipped away at my psyche and left its multitude of marks. I was programmed to think PTSD only happens to people who go to war or are abused but when you boil the disorder and symptoms down…what my doctor said makes absolute sense.

There are nights I wake up and the room feels cold…and because the heat was always going out at the trailer during winter, I immediately jump up to check the thermostat and furnace to make sure they are still working. And it’s filled with dread and terror every time, even though by the hundredth time, you’d think I’d start noticing the signs and self soothing. Nope. Much like I was terrorized by groups of teenagers in school, to this day, I get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach any time I see a group of teenagers gathered. I don’t flee the other way like I once did, but I still can’t quite view them as harmless.

My parents had a turbulent 28 year marriage and my dad had an affair that resulted in a child with a girl younger than me and it was around October when he told mom and sister they needed to move out because he was leaving to be with his other family. Me, the girl who used to flout dress codes at jobs and insisted on wearing a Santa hat to wait tables or work the register because I loved the holidays so much, now finds holidays traumatizing. There is nothing about them that brings me joy aside from my kid’s excitement and it finally being over. Since they split over 20 years ago, our entire family splintered with mom and sis living together with their extended family and friends, and dad and his here in Armpit, rehashing every bad thing mom ever did, or I ever did, or my sister ever did. It’s Criticalpalooza every time you see dad and his, whereas with my mom, she has dementia onset so I am never sure if she is going to go off and call me a fucking bitch who doesn’t deserve to have my child or if she is going to be loving and tell me I am a good mom. I HATE HOLIDAYS BECAUSE THEY ROBBED ME OF MY SIMPLE JOY WITH ALL THEIR DRAMA.

It may not rank up with standard PTSD causes, but the end result is the same It has tainted every aspect of my life, left me a shell of myself, and every day brings another new drama. Thanksgiving was marred with some fight between my sister and her son and his fiancee, which is still raging now. As usual, my mom is spending money on gifts they don’t have, and buying for 27 people not even related to us while my dad is being all scrooge and giving my kid a used 90’s LCD disc player thing and it’s so broken, you can’t even see the videos cos the liquid crystal is gone. Then I get texts from my sister’s friend wanting to know if we are still friends cos it’s her constaht presence that has caused so much of the drama in our family.

I don’t get involved. I try to get along with everyone and keep my ugly opinions to myself. I make it clear I am very content alone, I do NOT, nor have I ever, needed a friend who comes over 3 or 4 times a week and stays six hours at a time. If that is my sister’s thing (which it is, she never could be alone even as a kid), so be it. But leave me out of all this bullshit, it’s giving me stomach aches and panic attacks. Christmas Eve amidst all this drama and tension has me praying for a fucking blizzard that keeps us from getting to town. Which wouldn’t do any good to keep the other faction at bay as they live down the road.

Yesterday I guess dad spent ten minutes knocking on my front door but I was in my bedroom watching something on the computer so I didn’t hear the door, wasn’t til I saw a flood of sunlight outside my door that I realized someone had opened the front door and come inside. He immediately started bitching at me for ‘being on that fuckin’ computer’ and making him wait and not being able to hear him and WHEN ARE YOU GONNA CLEAN UP YOUR YARD? Never mind we just had a fucking ice storm so everything’s frozen to the ground, he isn’t the landlord, he isn’t even on the town board, so how I keep my yard is none of his fucking business. He totally triggered me for the day so instead of getting anything accomplished, I remained in my room in front of the computer, trying to think if there’s any way out of this neverending dramapukefest called my damned family.

And out of Armpit. They jacked up my internet bill via the usual excuse ‘state fees and federal fees’, now I get a notice saying I can’t pay my ridiculously high water bill in cash, has to be check or money order. Well I do internet banking so it’s cash or debit or spending $1.25 for a money order. Which I already do to pay the landlord to the tune of $17 a year, now that will double since I have to get a money order to pay the water bill. What the fuck, if you’re not gonna take cash, at least be set up for digital transaction, you backwater Deliverance motherfuckers. I swear the 8 months we have been here I’ve gone through every stage of grief, including acceptance, but I DON’T FUCKING ACCEPT IT. My kid hates it here, hates their school system, I hate being so close to my dad but moving back to town isn’t an option (and dad already said if we leave Armpit, he and stepmom won’t help us move, how’s that for controlling and spiteful>). What I need is a way OUT of this entire damn state. It’s giving me PTSD daily.

Okay, so I went a bit off topic but hey, at least you know you’re on the right blog. If I stayed on topic, well, that wouldn’t be Morgueticia.

A heartfelt thanks to those who have joined us on our Amazon wish list. Like I said, you can find items similar cheaper I am sure, but I was just trying to get the list made up and my kid went a little nutsy with the toys but…Yeah. Even one item from our list gives me more money to put gas in the car since the fundraiser has stalled. We aren’t asking for stuff we don’t already have or need. we have food. We have clothing (mostly). But I’m going to have to make a dozen trips to town this December and that adds up so even if you’re against giving to donation funds, a gas station card works just the same. And hey, if anyone reading this knows a private detective who works for free and will hunt down the donor and get his ass paying support again, by all means, please do. The man is a neverending source of heartbreak for my daughter and he’s not even in her life, by his own choice, but his actions affect her in ways he can’t comprehend. I hope Santa leaves him a lump of coal.

But yeah, PTSD has a new face, new causes, and it’s not a contest over who has it worst. We all have our scars that impact our daily functioning over and over again. But we keep fighting it and keep trying to survive and for me…I keep hoping one day I will find the person strong enough to handle me and all my damage and accept that there’s beauty inside that damaged vessel and a very good heart.

Ya know, when I’m not feeling the urge to throat punch people or stab them in the eye with a spork.

Three Minutes and Eighteen Seconds From Morgue- Please Take The Time

Posted in holidays with tags , , , , , on November 27, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms


I created a list on Amazon that is easier to comprehend and I am sure better deals can be found elsewhere but this is just ‘we could use this’ or ‘this would be a nice treat’. Except for pet supplies and toilet paper, we really NEED that stuff.

Our page.

A share, reblog, whatever you can do is appreciated.


1000 Reached, Giving Tuesday, and Taking Requests

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

It feels like Monday because school was canceled yesterday and my kid was home (five days in a row, omg, mom mom mom mom, mom doesn’t live here anymore!) but it is Tuesday. Giving Tuesday, actually. If you even read this blog time to time you know my daughter and I are struggling after losing child support income three months ago so we have been raising funds to keep us afloat til the law can hunt down this chronic deadbeat and make him do the right thing. I am doing everything I can to help us but in a rural place where 300 people are applying for one position, ‘get a job’ is easier said than done. It’s actually become a bloodsport, everyone stabbing each other in the back trying to secure that one position. We allegedly have a new restaurant coming next year, maybe I can get in on the ground floor there, I already talk to the manager a few times a week.

Anyway… My kid and I are a decent charitable cause, if you can even only give us a share on social media. We are very grateful. To do my part, I am going to donate a bunch of clothing and coats Spook has outgrown to our local church, my only real way to pay it forward at the moment. I try to do nice things, I even cook meals to bring to family shindigs so I am contributing. Not expecting a ‘free’ ride. With mental illness, there is no such thing, anyway. I pay in ways people can’t begin to imagine. I don’t ask for sympathy. I ask for empathy. I am a strong person but when my illnesses get the better of me…I’ve learned it’s not a crime to ask for help. Even if you don’t do donations, we have a wishlist of sorts here so you can make direct donation of specific items. I mean, what scammer asks for cleaning supplies and toilet paper? There’s some fluff on the list, but that is what Christmas has become, anyway. Aside from wanting to replace my gogroove speakers, it’s mostly chintzy five dollar stuff or bulbs and batteries for things we use around the house.

I am feeling shitty cos I do prefer giving to receiving, gifts, anyway. I remember a time when I could afford to buy gag gifts and we’d all laugh and have so much fun, then they’d get their real gift and it’d make them tear up or shriek with joy…The last few years the only thing I have been able to do for everyone is give them a pic of Spook in a frame. I don’t have the $26 for her school pictures (that is the cheapest package) so this year, it looks like I won’t even be able to do that much and it’s a bummer. And I tell people not to buy for us since we can’t reciprocate but they do anyway and it’s very kind, but…I still feel shitty if I can’t even give them a little craft picture thing I made.

7 years and I am now at 1001 followers on this blog. Without using the vile and bile filled social networking sites that have kidnapped most of the human race. I think social media has its value, but mostly, I think it feeds narcissism and hatred for certain factions that thrive on nastiness. I am, however, not above asking for people to share our campaign on social media. I don’t think it makes me a hypocrite because I used to live and breathe myspace but the minute I stepped onto Facebook, everything went to shit and I haven’t looked back. I did away with it all. I’m just not a social person. I am introverted and better with two or three people than a large group, always have been, and social media isn’t going to change who I am. It did briefly until I realized having thousands of ‘friends’ on line amounted to fuck all in the real world. I’m better at cultivating friendships that last more than a news cycle or trend. For those with that charisma that makes social networking great fun- awesome.

And taking requests…I remember a few years back a fast food place had a website where you could type in ‘flap your arms’ and some dude dressed like a chicken would do just that. (I tried to get him to flip me off but he told me I was being naughty.) So hey, if it will help keep a roof over our heads and ensure my kid has a few trinkets to open Christmas day…I’ll wear a chicken suit and dance to “Uptown Funk” in a youtube video if you request it after a donation. It’s not lack of dignity, it’s just that I have a pretty good sense of humor and I want to be able to give back in some way to those who have been generous and kind to us. You want a poem written about your goldfish? I’ll do it. Want me to write a short story for your kid about them having an adventure in the circus? I’ll do it. If we lived close by, I’d be happy to babysit or house clean or run errands-whatever it takes to take care of my kid. I’m willing to earn what we need if people can’t be swayed into charitable kindness. Oh, but for the record, I would definitely flip you off, naughty is who I am, so, think long and hard about what you request…

1001 followers. Even if a third of them were to donate $5, it would get my kid Christmas and keep us afloat til January. Not looking to buy a beemer here, people.

So…that’s all for this rant. I have more but I will do it later as I dared set foot into 18 degree cold and now I am drowning in sinus pain and drainage so…I will detail my current mental state more later on. It’s better now that the sun has come out and my kid has gone back to school but it’s been a very harsh 5 days with seasonal affective disorder and winter hasn’t even started yet. Ugh.