Archive for September, 2019

Miniscule Win

Posted in depression with tags , , , on September 30, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I’d written the day off toward accomplishing a thing. The cramps, backache, depressive inertia, and panxiety were kicking my ass. At some point nearing the time my kid would be home, for some unknown reason…I jumped on the phone to cancel the internet service call, I called her insurance company then the doctor office trying to get a ‘trial and error’ override so she can get the ADHD med that actually worked, then I had to do battle with my own NP who failed to call in a refill on my Xanax and now insurance is refusing to refill it ONE DAY EARLY.

I washed 3 loads of laundry. Managed to hang most of one load out on the line. The sheer curtains I just rehung in the kitchen and did some wall and door scrubbing. (We moved in so fast the place was pretty grimy to begin with and honestly, on my list of priorities…I sweep dust with a glance across the room, done.) I swept a bit. I made sure the cats all had food and fresh cold water. I refilled all my ice cube trays. Sent my sister a few texts to prove I am still alive. Commented on a blog or two.

Now I need a bath because it’s 90 out and we have to curtain the house off so the kitchen turns into a sauna which is where most of my chores took place and the windows are painted shut in there (idiots!). Tonight, however, the battle is on getting my kid to bathe. Nine years she had fits cos I made her shower, all she wanted was baths, and now we have no other option and she fights me tooth and nail. I HATE not having a shower. Maybe I will save my bath for tomorrow morning and hopefully my money will come in so I can run to town for script refills and pay rent and all that stuff. We have plans Wednesday afternoon/evening. I bought two chicken dinner tickets from some neighbor girl raising money for 4-H so Spook and I will be driving to her boondocks school for that meal. I haven’t decided if we will eat it there or get it to go. Depends on how crowded it is, I guess. But it’s something we can do together and the child doth love her fried chicken.

So…maybe I didn’t get done all I wanted to do today but I did, eventually, get up and do some stuff. Tomorrow is another day. Least I can go to bed tonight knowing I met my tiny goals and if I feel like depressive crap…it’s okay to just go with it. Baby steps may not work for some people but for me…it’s about the only thing that does work.

My Mind Says DO SOMETHING, My Depression Says GO TO HELL

Posted in anxiety, bipolar depression, depression with tags , , , , , on September 30, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I recently read how one blogger deleted her blog because she felt like it was just repeating the same stuff and had become stale and boring.

You should all be so lucky if I did that to this blog.

Depression IS BORING. Redundant. Same old, same old. It borders on “would you shut the hell up about your depression already, we get it, you’re depressed!” But the only way to tell it like it is with severe bipolar depression is to, well, tell it like it is, boring, banal, neurotic, a downer, redundant, lather, rinse, repeat.

I thought today would be The Day that I’d leap out of bed and into action and just get shit done around the house. Even for my low standards, the biohazard level has become dire.

Instead, I took my melatonin way too early last night and was so groggy, I was out before 9, once I knew my kid had kept her word, watched her program, and was in bed and asleep by that time. I woke at 10. I woke at 11. I had to use the bathroom and was thirsty but I knew if I got up, I’d have a bitch of a time getting back to sleep since I am out of benadryl and that is a crucial part of my sleepy time cocktail. But I got up and…was still awake after 3 a.m. frustrated and taunted by the clock ticking toward the alarm going off. Round and round my mind went. None of the therapy tricks to calm down helped. An extra melatonin and a BUspar did nothing. I sat up. I watched some TV. I tried to bore myself to sleep with one of these wifi TV plus channels called law TV or something (ermagod, TV has set me up for such failure the way they make trials look interesting when in fact they are so goddamn long and boring)…Eventually my mind was racing so bad even with that monotany in the background, I switched to The New Detectives and eventually…I drifted off. Just in time to embrace the snooze button right up til the last minute. I know if I have to use the bathroom, I gotta do it before Spook is up or I could be waiting 20 minutes while she lollygags in there so I didn’t even get my extra third 10 minutes of snooze time.

I woke with third day curse cramps and a backache so bad I thought my spine would snap. I was sleepy and achey, and all I could think about was getting her on the bus so I could go back to sleep. I even took a melatonin, thinking just a two hour nap might revive me. Not only did the nap not happen, the more the morning wore on, the more my anxiety climbed. I look at all that needs done and I…just…can’t. I try to break it down into little pieces here and there so I can at least get my own mind off my back by doing something, anything…

My depression then rises like a fire breathing dragon and tells me to go to hell, it ain’t happening today.

People think depression is just this low mood. It is like a flu of the mind and body. No matter how good you might feel to accomplish something, no matter how ashamed you are that things are this bad, none of it matters. Depressive inertia is just metastatic. I can’t even enjoy watching Slasher. I thought for sure it would help improve my mental state, but alas…I can’t bring myself to care about the characters when I can’t even care enough to make sure we have clean laundry. (Well, I do, but my kid hoards hers god knows where then waits til the last minute to say, I have no clean shirts or pants, grrrr.) The only take away from Slasher was a VERY creative and gruesome way to murder someone which involved and axe to either side if the neck, a blood geyser, followed by a beheading and the head being placed on top of a car hood ornament. Yeah, ewww, what kind of person finds that anything but disgusting? Oh, ya know, a person who was watching Friday The 13th at age 8 when other kids were still into Smurfs and Barbies…It’s escapism, plain and simple. Except I am not escaping my depression. I am now loathing myself for not being able to get into the show which I have watched every season of and it feels like my own failure because the show isn’t bad and the script has some creative as fuck ways to off the shitty people (or sometimes not so shitty but still, slashers gotta slash someone)…

I want to rise out of the ashes like a fire breathing dragon myself and get shit done. I want to change the things I can that are bringing me down, like the disorganized and icky house. Between cramps and backache and just being tired from interrupted sleep…All I can really do is wait it out and hope the mood tides shift.

I really miss my old days, before I had to go on spawn-daytime schedule. I used to clean house at 2 a.m. and I got shit done. Now I am so tapped out by 7 p.m., I can’t fathom making it past midnight unless I;ve already slept and just randomly wake up and can’t get back to sleep.

My kid and I have a “Tv date: tonight to watch 9-1-1 together, she is super jazzed about the previews showing a tsunami, so maybe we can enjoy that and snuggle buggle and I can succeed at one part of being a decent mother. Of course, this all hinges on how her school day went and the mood tides have changed. This Focalin they changed her to to is doing NO GOOD, fuck you Meridian insurance for not covering the ONE med that DID work.

Plus side, our internet hasn’t been down for the last 20 hours. I should probably call and cancel the tech guy but we are expecting rain this week which is usually when it fucks up so maybe I will wait…Idk.

Final episode of Slasher. Maybe then I will accomplish something. Or not. Much as I try to adhere to my old counselor’s “do one small goal then feel how you feel:…there are days when even this is beyond my capability. Especially when on a medication making you more depressed instead of less depressed.

Bipolar depression really is a depression of its own and I am left to wonder why, other than Latuda, there are so few options geared to bipolar two disorder. It;s disheartening to think that big pharma thinks bipolar one is the only severe enough axis to keep developing new meds for. Bipolar two is just as crippling and it’s long past time for some research into how to alleviate this scourge.

The Wrecking Ball That Is Mental Illness

Posted in anxiety, bipolar depression, depression, mental health with tags , , , , , , , , on September 30, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Yeah, okay, I,too, am not entirely comfortable with the term ‘mental illness’ due to the fact that it does come with some many negative connotations and stigma. I am also LOATHE to jump on this “behavioral health” bandwagon as the name itself invalidates legitimate mental health disorders and calls them behavioral issues. For the sake of this post, I am going to go with mental health issues as a term as it is fitting, DSM and political correctness be damned. But seriously, instead of a kinder, gentler world with more understand of mental health issues, the campaign to de-stigmatize has recently taken some blows-by the very people in charge who are supposed to be setting an example of the tolerance, understanding, and compassion.

Not to mention as of recent years any time someone goes on a shooting spree, the powers-that-be toss around “it’s just the mentally ill people doing this”. Which, FYI, is a fucking joke, considering the alleged background checks are supposed to track down psych hospitalizations and such, so if anything, the only guns the ‘mentally ill’ are easily getting are on the street and gee, whose fault might that be that illegal arms dealers don’t do background checks? Not to mention, most of the shootings have stemmed from militant hate filled people whose sanity, by legal definition, is pretty sound, or how else would they function highly and use guns as opposed, to say, going bonkers and grabbing a kitchen knife or an axe or some other readily available weapon ‘crazy’ people use?

Most of us who battle mental health issues are not violent or delusional. We have highs, lows, unexplained sadness, rampant anxiety. It is a wrecking ball to our ability to function normally. Not to say many don’t find the right drug cocktail and therapist and go on their merry way. It’s just not like that for many of us. And while we are battling all of this, we are surrounded by people who scoff and just want us to get over it and quit being such downers. If depression worked that way, well, big pharma would wither and die and hey, if we were all ‘in our right minds’, well, then who will be blamed for the mass violence next? People who eat chocolate obsessively? Coffee drinkers amped up on caffeine and sugar?

My mental health issues impact EVERY aspect of my life. My ability to be a good mom, to keep house, to pay bills on time, to feed the cats, make sure my kid and I are bathed and wearing clean clothes…It impacts my ability to forge bonds with others because I have tried and everyone gets sick of the ups and downs and the times I go down the depressive rabbit hole and become a paranoid anxiety ridden trainwreck. So I self isolate to protect not just myself from rejection, but to protect others because I know this shit show called my mental health could devour people with less strength, and it has. It’s just a giant wrecking ball that robs me of focus, robs me of sleep, robs me of joy, even in these I love. I try to rebuild, but before I can, I am having another bout, or stick stuck in one because my psych care is so lackluster.

My family says I am just making excuses not to try harder. They seem to think I enjoy being anxious and depressed and popping pills. I do NOT. One of the happiest times of my life-even though I was depressed and anxious as hell- was when I was pregnant and the ONLY pill I had to take every day was a prenatal vitamin. Opening the cabinet and seeing only one bottle as opposed to 4 or 5…it felt damned good. And I tried to do without meds, repeatedly. It always ends the same way. Me falling apart and things getting worse. So while my current meds aren;t doing a damn thing…I keep clinging to that wrecking ball, swinging back and forth, hoping when it stops…I can start trying to rebuild my sanity, my zest for life, my shattered self esteem and the feelings of rejection and isolation…

Make no mistake about it. Much like a wrecking ball used in building demolition, mental health disorders are every bit as destructive, stripping you down until you barely feel human. Until you feel like nothing you do will ever rebuild the wreckage left in the wake of manic episodes or depressive bouts.

The last thing we need are our supposed leaders labeling all mentally people as potential mass shooters. We’re traumatized enough daily by the stigma and the disorders themselves. Stop blaming the mentally ill for abhorrent acts of hatred and violence. Reap what you have sown, society, by accepting a culture filled with such hatred and so much division that these horrible acts occur. Get it through your head that because those of us who battle mental health disorders, we are more likely to throw ourselves in front of a bullet to save someone’s life as opposed to taking a life. That isn’t crazy or mentally ill. It’s called being a compassionate human being.

Something that is sorely missing in the UNited States these days,

If Facebook Takes Away The Like Button, How Will The World Cope?

Posted in mental health, social media with tags , , , , on September 29, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I first heard about this on the radio a few weeks back, then the other day a snippet was in my email. Since I don’t use any social media sites outside of wordpress blogs, I’m not sure what impact removing the like button would have here. Would it go away entirely as part of the social networking/blogging world? On one hand, likes are about the only input I get on this blog, since people cannot be bothered to comment. And sometimes, it does boost my self esteem to get likes on a post. On the other hand, it is a bit damaging to write what I consider a good post and get 4 likes while someone’s picture of their lunch gets 1000.

When this was announced on the radio, it was under the heading of, “Facebook cares about your mental health and is considering removing or hiding likes so people’s self esteem does not suffer.”

Personally, I think a like button for pictures is a little silly. But I am old school social media, back from chat rooms, IM, and myspace days. Back when if people wanted to communicate with you, they would actually, ya know, write a message on your page or leave a funny or sparkly nice graphic. They’d exchange hellos in a chat room, ask to IM you for personal chat. Since the advent of the like button and social media, or as I like to call it, anti social media because I’ve been in a room full of people I’ve been invited to spend time with, and they are all on their phones, updating their status, texting, doing everything BUT meaningful personal interaction. Like buttons are in a way, a way to avoid direct interaction yet still voice your opinion.

At the same time…I’ve had people tell me, “sorry I didn’t comment, I just didn’t have anything to say/didn’t know what to say so I just clicked like to let you know I read it.” And I understand this all too well, as I have done it myself many times before. I try to comment but sometimes, the words just aren’t there. Hazard of depression. So does the like button do more harm or more good? For me, it’s about my only connection to readers who are too busy or without words to comment. I savor every comment I do get because it means someone cared enough to take the time to at least touch base, commiserate, interact. But then again, if I write a good post and someone’s picture of Barney on a burned piece of toast gets thousands of likes versus my three…

I propose for blog sites a “commiserate and support” button. We’re not blogging to be popular in the mental health realm. And what is nxt? A thumbs down because we’re depressed and it depresses others so they invalidate our writing and feelings?

I can see one way removing the likes count and etc would definitely be better for mental health. Kids on social media. For them it is a popularity contest and having a classmate with a gazillion likes when your posts are lucky to get a couple of your best friends to click the button…That is damaging, whether we realize it or not.

So folks…chime in. What impact would it have on those of you who use sites like Facebook if you were no longer pandering for likes and the feeling of popularity and validation that brings? Would you post less? Give up entirely on the concept of social media? Try harder to cater to the fickle masses and their ADHD news cycle attention span? I am curious. Because my ten year old gets positively shrieky giddy every time she gets a like for a comment on youtube or a new subscriber to her low content channel. She got 100 likes for a comment on some gamer video and I thought her head would implode with joy. For a moment she forgot she wasn’t one of the popular kids at school. But then for weeks, not a single like which brought her down.

Like buttons-helpful, harmful, or both?

Primal Frickin Scream

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , on September 29, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Well, the internet just went back up after being out over 18 hours. I called Frontier to raise hell and they said they can’t get a guy here til Friday. But this whole up and down thing is making me want to let out a primal scream. I mean, I could understand it if I like, didn’t pay the bill, but my only crime is living here in fucking Armpit where options are so limited and their service is absolutely unreliable and utterly shit. I have no idea how long the net will be up now, it comes and goes. They redid my outside wiring so that only leaves some inside problem. I am going to keep the appointment, but if it’s working when the guy shows up, they charge me $75. For fuck’s sake.

Yesterday was a bitch. The anxiety about devoured me whole. Then this morning I see something in my email where this Lisa Ling chick is doing a report on the long term bad effects of Benzos so I went Googling on my phone and my God…the anti benzo lobby is working triple time. They have this notion that EVERY patient who takes the class of drug is simply using it as a crutch and refused to try therapy and SSRIs or SNRIs. I have tried bloody everything. Xanax is what holds the panic attacks at bay, and let’s face it. When your panic attacks are so bad you can’t think straight, you sweat, you tremble, and your entire digestive system riots and sends you running to the toilet…That is precisely why someone would need such a drug. I’ve tried everything but their stupid EMDR and I would have even tried it (even though I find it ludicrous) if insurance paid for it and anyone in the area practiced it.

I am sick of drugs like Xanax being villified. If I get this new telepsych doc and he’s totally anti benzo, my quality of life is going to get even worse. As if the lowered dose hasn’t wreaked absolute havoc the last 1o months. I was hoping Buspar would do the trick because, hey, I don’t want to take extra pills, I don’t want to be reliant on meds that aren’t necessary. But the fact is, it doesn’t put a dent in my generalized anxiety and it does nothing for panic attacks. About all that’s left are beta blockers and I don’t need a crystal ball to know the docs in this rural area probably know fuck all about that sort of therapy for panic as it is generally used for social performance anxiety so more a periodic drug than maintenance med. All I know is that I was coping better-sometimes needing only half a Xanax a day- until they lowered it. Now I am showing agoraphobic tendencies and I am rattled by just a trip to the mailbox or town. How any professional could think this is aiding me escapes my grasp. I have never showed any inclination toward abusing Xanax. I am willing to sign a waiver absolving them of responsibility if I get ‘hooked’. I am willing to undergo random drug tests to ensure I take no more than prescribed. None of which a true addict or malingerer would be willing to endure lest they be caught abusing or faking it.

I have 25 years of files proving it’s been a problem since I was a kid and I did try talk therapy long before I ever agreed to medication. But the new culture is all about ‘hand down’ patients and the new doctor being tasked with continuing the benzo therapy or yanking the rug out from under the patient ‘for their own good’. I think considering the level of my anxiety and panic attack frequency, I have done extremely well using coping mechanisms. But it does come down to a quality of life issue and if my life has more quality with a medication that works, NO ONE, special report or not, is going to convince me it is non therapeutic.

I zonked again last night before ten because the days are just so long and take such a toll. The nurse has upped my Buspar to 15mg 3 times a day but alas, it’s like taking a Tic Tac. Which is what I called Klonopin. Tic Tac O Pin. Or clownapin. It works for so many people and yet, it did nothing for me. I tried Ativan, as well, and it did not stop the panic attacks. I find it absolutely ridiculous to villify a drug class, when a patient has tried everything else. I don’t disagree that benzos can be overprescribed for patients who really don’t need it. But those are the jerks who fuck it up for those of us who need it to enjoy a higher quality of life.

I thought a couple nights of early bedtime would leave me well rested and ready to go in the morning. But the sleep/wake cycle has returned and it’s exhausting. Getting proper rest for a couple of weeks was nice but it didn’t stick. I don’t know why she didn’t just leave me at 50mg Zoloft and add a secondary med for the depression. And that she wouldn’t even hear me out was super frustrating. I will be happy if I NEVER have to see a psych nurse again. I had so much hope because so many people talked about positive experiences with their psych nurses over psych docs. Two bad experiences has left me licking my wounds and feeling insignificant. I can only hope the new telepsych doc is more open to patient input. Though-and forgive me if this is politically incorrect- he has a hard to pronounce last name indicating he’s likely from a foreign country and I have had trouble before understanding accents. (Southern states and the way they garble words has always been a thorn in my paw.) But honestly, of my long list of doctors, 75% have been foreign. No one comes to this region unless they are serving time getting experience or something. Sad but true. I also worry that my fidgety anxiety in front of a TV screen will make me seem insincere but honestly…I don’t even do video chat for this reason. The couple of times I tried it with a friend it was just too bizarre for me to feel comfortable. Since this is my only choice for now…I will hope for the best but be oreoared for the worst.

At least it looks like I have another week or two of decent weather before the seasonal affect disorder truly starts kicking in. I am hoping for super functionality like I had last Monday (or was it Tuesday? The days all run together here in Podunk) but honestly, ONE functional day out of seven…does not speak to the Zoloft’s efficacy. Or the psych nurse;s competence. It’s hard not to feel victimized by this woman’s unwillingness to let me have input into my own care. Three months on the same med with zero improvement…Good riddance to her, hope she never ever comes back. I wanted consistent care instead of their revolving doctor door but worse than seeing all the diff docs was getting trapped with a nurse who simply would not listen to me.

Being muted in your own care and powerless over your own well being is bad medicine. I feel bad for her future patients.

Anxiety Files-Losing My Effing Mind-Looong Rant

Posted in anxiety, depression on September 28, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

The anxiety started yesterday. I had the audacity to take a bath at 11 a.m. and the next thing I know, I’ve missed two calls and before I can return them, there’s pounding at the door. My idget brother, telling me that because his parents are working, I am ‘on call’ should he need a ride home from work. That pretty much put my entire day on hold. Not that the depression and cramps were going to give me a productive day, anyway, but I was too rattled to even run to the gas station for some milk like I’d planned. And the anger and resentment started churning. I have no problem helping on occasion. But three, four times a week, putting my life on hold, dropping everything, and all I get is the gas money it costs to get to town and back, not to mention dragging my kid around thus screwing up her life (she had a chance to play with friends the other day, but no, had to go fetch the idiot). Being ‘on call’ it not something I do well. It gives me anxiety and panic attacks and basically impacts every aspect of my entire day.

On top of that, there was a brief thunderstorm and high winds and the internet went down for 4 hours. It reappeared for two hours, then went down again and was not restored until 9 a.m. today. DO NOT EVER EVER GET FRONTIER INTERNET SERVICES, EVER EVER EVER. Their service is garbage and down more than it is up and getting a hold of a live person is a pain in the ass and finding someone HELPFUL is a fucking pegacorn. Useless. Their reviews on line alone should make them ashamed of their incompetence. I am about ready to forgo my deposit just to end my contract early but unfortunately, the only other options cost twice what I already can’t really afford. Living in Bumfuck SUCKS. And if DSL is so sensitive to weather changes, how the fuck does the military trust the sat systems for military intel and ops and communication? Did Frontier get theirs from the fucking dollar ‘may or may not work during rain’ store? Also, Frontier does NOT give credits for when you go hours and days without working service so they are crooks. It takes nine plus days just to get a repairman to your house, ffs. NINE DAYS.

No internet left me at the mercy of our digital TV antennas. Which, ha, don’t work worth shit during wind or rain. I have data on my phone, but mostly, I spent the day resetting the router, checking my phone to see if the net was back up, every ten minutes, fretting and freaking out a little. I couldn’t figure out why I was suddenly so overheated and sweaty because my weather app said it was 68 degrees out. Dumbass that I am, I assumed my data plan would update the app but nope…It was 90 degrees out and I could have had the AC on had I known that but I just chalked it up to 80% humidity. It didn’t update til nearly 5 p.m. and by then, I was face palming and feeling like an utter moron. For some reason-and it’s been this way for years- when my internet is down, I am kind of in a freak out fog, disconnected and pissed off and anxious about being disconnected. Even if I only use the net for streaming, email, and looking up shit. God, I miss the days before texting and social media, back when there were chat rooms and IMs. I had so many good friends back then, people I could turn to when in a meltdown, and they could, in turn, turn to me and we’d comfort each other. Now everything is anti social media and if you’re not in it for the likes and making fun of others or sharing pictures of your lunch, no one gives a rats ass about making a meaningful supportive connection. I tried doing a chat room a couple years back with wordpress bloggers but it was an epic fail. Maybe 3 people were regulars. Losing my tether to what kept me going for so long and knowing this new world order of social media and texting bullshit are my options…

So my only victory was bathing (only cos my hair was gross) and I couldn’t even enjoy that because I was hunted down and placed ‘on call’ for a problem that has nothing to do with me. He’s 24, has a vehicle, let him LEARN to handle the stress of driving. I have to handle it. But nope, boys in this family are special. Dad never gave me and my sis an opt out no matter our issues but the boy…And yeah, I have ALWAYS had a bee in my bonnet on how the world favors boy over girls, though it does seem more prevalent in other countries but still…The rules should be the same for all your kids, gender be damned. Yet in this family it isn’t. And I am tired of being their safety net. Not to mention, they don’t let me know til like 15 minutes before he needs the ride so I have to rush to town with panic and anxiety and the depressive inertia and paranoia and fear of traffic. They have no idea how hard it is on me and they don’t care. It was 4:30 before I found out I did not need to fetch him. Of course, my dad couldn’t be bothered to call, he had to barge into my house and give me that ‘the place stinks and is a mess’ snarl. Cos their house is so spic and span. Hypcrites. He has NO right to come barging in, he could have easily told Spook as she was out in the yard and she could have come in and let me know. I have a huge problem with people barging in uninvited. At one time, I even had a note from my good shrink from 12 years ago who instructed my landlord that due to my anxiety, I needed at least 24 hours notice before he did any work in the apartment. That doc really understood how upsetting it all is for me. I’m not denying I am neurotic and at times, pretty fucking fragile, but if a heads up is what it takes to make me feel less threatened and calmer, what does it hurt? But my dad NEVER over 20 years calls or warns, he just shows up and sends me into a tailspin.

The anxiety took a toll. I went to the gas station finally with Spook (she wanted to stay home alone and legally she can, but with the trains stalling on the tracks for an hour at a time, I can’t risk being cut off from her, I am too, well, neurotic.) I finally felt safe to go to the gas station knowing dad was in town fetching his problem child (who works 15 hours a week therefore is better than me, and yes, he has said that to me) and stepmonster was at work. They literally count how many times they see me at the has station or going to town, as if they are paying for any of my bills or gas. NOSEY fucks. But that is the hallmark of this town because the postal people are constantly reporting to them if I get so much as a late notice on a bill or dare to order a $1 item from China then I get lectures on how I spend unwisely. Between that and the epic fails with the counselors who broke privilege, my trust issues have metastasized.

Even after finding out I didn’t have to fetch my brother…the anxiety hung around and I couldn’t focus and I was down in the dumps over the whole nurse and her forced Zoloft regime. She was utterly useless. One more reason not to trust anyone. I tried to stay up and watch the premiere of Dateline but sadly, I zonked out before hour two. I didn’t even say goodnight to Spook. I told her I was laying down and she should give me a kiss in case I zonked but she couldn stay up watching TV til ten…Another accidental mom fail but the PMDD just wipes me out every single month and I do sleep more. I just don’t sleep better. I woke up so many times…And my TV which is my ambient calming noise lost the channel so I fiddled with it til I at least got a black picture but audio…Only to wake up three times and wonder if the station went out totally or if my TV was toast. By 6 a.m. I was awake and pissed about it but the cat wanted fed and the bladder was screeching at me to get up. The internet was still down. I came out of the gate with panic attacks. And since then, it’s just been mounting anxiety and panic with no true explanation and I am irritible and I just want space but my kid had to cling to me for an hour all but crawling up my butt. And what truly breaks my heart is that in a year or two she isn’t gonna wanna snuggle buggle and I will have pissed it all away because my brain is fucked. That is depressing as hell, losing time with my kid because I just feel like, blah, what is the point, nothing ever changes for the better…

I had a dream last night where I saw a new shrink and he was compassionate and prescribed a new med and MADE insurance cover it, then he asked if I wanted to see a physical doc about my lady problems and a counselor who would be sympathetic and…It was a wonderful dream. Not that nervous breakdown part, but finding adequate help. People should dream of good jobs, happy families, winning the lottery, taking a dream vacation…and all I dream about is finding decent mental health care. Fucked up.

So now I am loaded with Xanax and Buspar and starting to calm down a little but my kid is shopping on line and omg, we don’t have the money for all she wants and it breaks my damn heart. That feeds anxiety as well, knowing because I can’t hold a job and do better, she can’t do or get what she wants. Like I need help feeling shitty about myself, the depression has that nailed down.

So all in all a pointless rant of anger and frustration but necessary. This is how I keep from getting stabby with people who grate on my last frayed nerve. I vent it all here and then I can take a step back and discern what is truly a problem and what is likely an overreaction to physical/hormonal/mental upset. It doesn’t always work but when it does…I feel pretty damn good about the progress I have made in controlling my impulse to just start screaming and crying and cursing at everyone and everything.

Now if I could just find a way not to bottle it all up, find a support group there for me when I need them, and well, a competent doctor, duh.

May find a pegacorn first but hey, at least I want to believe those are real. Competent shrinks…not so much, those are the real mythical creatures. At least in Bumfuck, midwest.

No Crystal Ball Needed

Posted in anxiety, bipolar depression, depression with tags , , , , , on September 27, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

My (now former) psych nurse was so damned predictable, I called it. She refused to change out the Zoloft, increasing it only another 50 mg and saying I would still have another 50 to increase to max dose for my next doctor to figure out. I maintain after 10 weeks and three dose changes with NO relief from the depressive symptoms, she is wrong wrong wrong. I’ve had competent doctors before and yes, it is usually SOP to max out the dose before changing meds but the thing is…they maxed me out within 6 weeks. With her, every fucking appointment is between 4-6 weeks and she only eeks my dose up a little and I am left twisting in the fucking wind. I was not amused. And her cavalier yet stubborn manner was enough to send me into a rage were it not for the fact that the anxiety of the appointment alone had my blood pressure 26 points above my norm and all I wanted was OUT of there.

4 more weeks on a medication that actually is giving me suicidal thoughts. I tried to tell her this and she just wasn’t hearing it. I am so frustrated and I feel utterly powerless and unheard. And I predicted it would be exactly that way, though I did think she’d at least max my dose out over 4 weeks instead of eeking it up 50 mg. Thing is now I am terrified to take even more of the stuff since it’s higher dose has my sleep fucked up and it is giving me darker thoughts. WTF?

Yesterday I was in cramp hell and I honestly didn’t think I’d be able to do more than make the appointment and come right back home. But I doubled up on generic Tylenol (organ damage just to alleviate menstrual pain, jeebus, can’t modern medicine do better than this????) and I managed the appointment and a few errands. Cats are lucky I love them so much, otherwise I might have just said screw it and not bothered replenishing the supply. Not that it did me a bit of good. No sooner than I was home and ready to settle in for the day stepmonster called and said her and dad were both working and for some reason mass transit couldn’t get my brother so Spook and I had to make a trip to fucking town to get him. Sooo aggravating. I just do not know why their man child is my problem. There’s helping out family and then there is family taking advantage and they are totally doing the latter. In my current mental and hormonal state, this is just leading to a powder keg situation. But honestly, other than “I don’t want to”, I can’t come up with a way to avoid them and their requests. Because if I try to explain my mental state, then they guilt me for not being able to ‘buck up and get over it’. Then they remind me, I don’t work and they do and…

It is so hard teaching my child not to hate when I feel so much hatred for people and things myself.

Right now I am feeling pissy because I woke up an hour before the alarm and it was still dark out. The digital antenna keeps fucking up so I can’t watch one single channel without it fading out or getting garbled.(Gotta be all the truckers going by with their CBs or some shit, just started the last week or so when harvest did.) I was feeling cold so I changed into pants and sleeves and now I am starting to feel too warm. My gums hurt from anxious gnashing of teeth. Is it Thursday or Friday? Because I wasn’t clear on that when I woke up. I first thought, oh, it’s Saturday, I can stay in Fort Blankie longer…This level of confusion bothers me. I mean, I know it happens to everyone, but then, everyone isn’t stuck taking a medication that is making them MORE depressed. Cramps are starting up again and honestly, I am tired of taking pain relievers because I am so scared of organ damage. But then again, how would anyone determine it for sure, considering how long and how many psych meds I’ve been on?

Definitely altered. And the daily shit show of a reality TV program isn’t helping. I am so disgusted with the state of things in the U.S. Politics was always a shit show but now it’s a damn reality show that never goes off air. Same shit, different day. Bad President. Witchhunt and fake news. It should not be this goddamn adversarial and convoluted. You do wrong, you face the consequences. But no one can agree on right or wrong anymore because the fucking reality program rules change versus what was right or wrong in prior administrations. They’ve turned it all into this junior high Twittering moron war between parties and I am just SICK of it all. I can’t stand reality TV and now I am living it. At the mercy of a bunch of elderly children bickering over whose interpretation of good or bad is correct. I was taught that corruption and bullying are wrong. Now it’s just ‘everyone decides to be a bully’ madness.

I want to go back to when politics took care of itself and the corrupt people weren;t constantly on my TV and in my email. Naive and head in the sand perhaps, but really…what is the current shit show accomplishing except dividing Americans in a way that is hate filled and suggesting of violence as an answer?

Guess I will take my useless fucking meds and hope my mind stops whatever tantrum it is having due to hormones and mental defects.

At least I know when my mind is misbehaving and I don’t try to justify it with hate filled social media blasts. GUess that makes me more self aware and mature than, well, most of the current political regime. Or maybe the reality show has finally short circuited my brain and I am in the midst of a damn breakdown.

I have no idea.