Archive for November, 2019

Thanksgiving Difficulty: Level Brain Implosion

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

Fangsgiving started out okay enough. I had to pry myself out of Fort Blankie, filled with dread of having to cook. And honestly, the hardest part of cooking my chicken and noodles is fighting to get the chicken out of its shrink wrapped packaging, which is gross and messy and removing the package of innards is nasty AF. All I wanted was another half hour of sleep and warm blankies…But I got caffeinated and plopped the chicken into some water to boil. It was all done by 11:30 a.m. which left me two hours to finish my show I was watching, put on clean clothes, and slap on some warpaint. Then off to town and my mom’s we went.

Things were fine at first. THEN my dad and stepmonster arrived. My kid wouldn’t put down the electronic device even while eating so I told her to put it away. She bulled but did it. But no, that wasn’t good enough for stepmonster, she had to start carrying on about “You listen to your mother, Spook, or I will stick you in a corner on your tippy toes for 15 minutes!” On and on she went when Spook had already put the damn thing down and was eating quietly even if tearing up and being pouty. So my sister gets all weirded out and said, “We’re supposed to be having a nice Thanksgiving meal, not fighting.” WTF? All I did was try to be a fucking parent. Not my fault stepmonster can’t ever butt the fuck out.

Then her and dad started in on my driving, telling me I don’t know how to use brakes, just the gas pedal, and I am like…where the fuck is this coming from? She didn’t say a bad word last week when I was adequate enough to haul her ass around. But the minute she is around my dad, she shows her two facedness and they start in on me over stupid fucking shit. They don’t pay my car insurance so how is it any of their fucking business? I am mindful to do complete stops, to keep my speed down, to use signals…Oh, AND I AM 46 YEARS OLD, FOR FUCK’S SAKE. They aren’t satisfied unless running someone down and that someone is usually me. My dad has never stopped treating me like some dumb 16 year old who just got her license. He’s big on the ‘grow up’ speeches but he is intent on never letting me grow up by shutting the fuck up about everything I do that isn’t up to his standards. And if my driving is so fucking bad, why have I not had any speeding or accident tickets in 20 plus years? And I further resent that my parents now get to play the ‘we’re in our seventies, we’re old and our health isn’t great, so we get to be dickbags’ card.

It was uneventful until I realized it was getting dark out and since I am semi night blind, I wanted to get home. At which point my nephew and his wife and my sister all tell Spook she can stay at their house one night, then the next night with my mom and sis…And none of them thought to think first that we didn’t bring any clothing changes with us, that’d put the child in the same clothes 4 straight days, for fuck’s sake. So I said no and world war 3 ensued. And the whole time, even knowing our precarious financial situation, said, “Well, let her stay, and we’ll drive over and get her some clean clothes tomorrow.” Nope, none of them could muster up that much intelligence because they are too busy. My kid went into bawling spiteful mode. My mom started in on me (when at first, she told Spook no to a sleepover, because they’d been up cooking all night and day!) and said, “Why won’t you let her stay? You’re always trying to get rid of her anyway.”


I let the kid spend maybe two nights a month with them. She is with me every over minute of the day, 24-7, when she is not at school. I may occasionally need a break, but I am NEVER trying to get rid of her. And the witch said it in front of my master manipulator child so she threw that one at me later on, “You really ARE trying to get rid of me!” Which demonstrates how none of them operate from a point of intelligence or logic. If I wanted to get rid of her, I’d have said yes without hesitation and not given a damn if she was stuck in dirty clothes for 4 days!!!!! I said she could stay Saturday night but by then Spook was off the rails with her bawling, sulking, then screaming fit.

So we got in the car and…a windshield wiper fell apart. On the driver side. I had only one working wiper on the passenger side and it was raining. I couldn’t figure for the life of me how to reattach the damn rubber piece and I was in no hurry to ask dad for help because EVERY time something breaks, he finds a way to make it my fault. I didn’t even touch the wipers, ever, so how could I break them???But again, my family does not operate from logic. So half blind and unable to see even the lines on the wet blackened road…I took a deep breath and set out toward home, terrified I was gonna wreck since every vestige of vision was fucked. And her sniveling in the backseat and alternating between cold shoulder and accusatory outbursts of hateful, “You ruined my Thanksgiving!”….

Yeah, it sucked. And no sooner than we got through the door, my brother called and asked me to go to their house and put the dogs out. Like, fucking hell. So we had to go do that and she continued her wrath. Then she went off on how I never do anything with her and all I do is watch TV (which is hilarious, her grandmother barely moves off her bed and watches TV 24-7 but grandma is cool). I offered to watch a show with her once we got settled in and she refused. The wrathful behavior continued for 2 hours.

I dared to text my sister about the whole debacle. And again, “Mom’s dementia is really awful, she is very mean to everyone these days.” She said she tried to explain it to mom and mom didn’t understand what she did wrong. Then finally she got it and told my sis she didn’t mean to hurt my feelings…But the woman couldn’t pick up a phone and tell ME that. Now when I drop Spook off I will probably get the ‘you’re too sensitive’ speech because for a woman with dementia who allegedly forgets everything…she does not forget, ever, being called on her own bullshit and taking the chance to spit more venom and turn it back on me. “It’s the dementia, dude.” My sister always says.

Great. The woman my dad dubbed ‘pit viper’ and ‘hateful mcnasty’ when she was in her 30s now has a legit medical reason to become even more vile and venom spewing.

BUT none of my mental issues count. They are not legit. Both parental factions SAY so.

I am so sick of the lack of logic, the two facedness, the back stabbing, the constant criticism and judgment-things they passed onto me and I have unknowingly kept doing from time to time…

One thing I have broken, however, is that I do not play their emotional mind fuck games where it’s bury it deeo down til you explode, go into denial, or just start screaming like a banshee.

I sent my daughter an email apologizing for disappointing her and explained how hurtful the day had been and next thing I know…she is calm, tells me she loves me to the moon and back, and begs my forgiveness.

At least I have managed to break ONE lousy parenting/family pattern of dysfunction.

I did not sleep well. I went to bed with make up still on so in the middle of the night I was up trying to flush mascara out of my eyeballs. That was painful. Then I couldn’t get back to sleep. Then I woke 3 or 4 times. I got up around 8 but I can’t get warm, at all, and it’s yet another wet gloomy day…with last night’s negativity still looming over my head…I feel pretty lousy about myself, my life, my family, and well, everything in general.

Yet these ignorant self absorbed people cannot figure out why I’ve spent the last 30 years keeping to myself, living by myself, and making the briefest of possible holiday appearances. They are oblivious to how toxic they are. I’m just stuck up, or a hermit, or some other bullshit they’ve dreamt up. Somehow it just can’t occur to them how nasty they all are to me. I love my sister, and she is cool to hang out with, but she’s always preferred her husband’s doper/biker friends to my company, and well, my brother is a 24 year old man child so…

I literally have not one family member I am truly close to. I really have always been on my own even with a family still around and alive.

The only way to get along with them is to stop being a parent to my child and let them take over and trample my feelings and be utterly submissive to their whims.

Which is never gonna happen.

And this is why I am always ‘joking’ that Spook and I would like to adopted by someone far from this state and we’d be live in housekeepers or whatever. There is nothing here for us. Nothing positive, anyway. I’m not running from something. I just want something to run toward.

So that was my shitty emotionally scarring Thanksgiving.

Hope others fared better than I did.

At least the food was good.

Though as I have always maintained, a good meal isn’t really worth a week of feeling like I got the shit kicked out of me by an angry mob.

The fuckers are just lucky I have a strong enough psyche to keep doing this shit year after year. But it is getting to the point where I am about to just send my kid there and stay home myself. Like depression and anxiety aren’t enough to keep me down and out, their abuse is overkill.

And I am in no way a masochist.


Posted in anxiety, depression, seasonal affective disorder with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on November 27, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

This week is Thanksgiving thus next week, December 3rd, is #Giving Tuesday. This is a time to be thankful for what we have, not necessarily monetary stuff. Even though my daughter and I are in a very dire financial situation due to the donor screwing us over on child support,again, (an on-line friend put money into our paypal account so I could refill my meds and buy toilet paper til next week, WE ❤ YOU, CAROL ANNE!)…I have been pondering how to ‘give back’ in whatever way I can. At this time, I have zero cash outside 24 cents in my wallet and $1.18 on my debit card so…

My contribution will be for Thanksgiving, as usual, buying and cooking chicken and noodles with what little is left on our food card. Idk why everyone from my mom to my sister’s husband’s friends go gaga when I bring noodles, I don’t do a bloody thing special, frozen noodles and a boiled chicken, but…people actually get disappointed if I don’t bring them so…It’s the only thing I can do. Maybe on #Giving Tuesday, I will offer to let my kid’s friend come hang out at our house thus giving his parents a break. It’s a little silly, I suppose, but I don’t even have gas in the car to go into town and like, volunteer at the pet shelter or soup kitchen. (Oh, and FYI, when you have even a misdemeanor theft charge on your record from nearly 20 years ago, even volunteer work often results in rejection, because ya know, much as society thumps its chest on ‘correction and rehabilitation’, they never truly believe anyone can change and become better versions of themselves minus prior bad acts.) And for anyone who thinks I am just making excuses, you are welcome to drive my ailing car on its low fuel and prove me wrong. If desire to help counted for anything, I would be considered a major benefactor.

So let’s do the thankful, first, and pardon me if it seems a little thin compared to my aggro issues but…it is what it is…


my daughter and I having a roof overhead, heat, electricity, water, and food in our bellies.
our cats, whose furry loving and purring make me feel like there’s light at the end of the very dark tunnel.
for my fucked up family who drives me insane, yet at least we have a place to go for holidays, which is more than so many people have.
our good physical health. We could be sick like so many others so this, too, is a gift to show gratitude for.
Good friends, IRL and on line, who help with a donation here and there and always offer their love, support, and encouragement. You guys are awesome and we love you.
My healthy, beautiful, smart, creative daughter. She drives me to lunacy but she has helped me become a less selfish, more grounded, and better person. I am grateful for her and to her.
My $450 car which is still running 18 months later, even if ailing at this time and wanting for fuel. It ain’t shiny or particularly pretty, but it has done us good and my dad bought it for us, so to car and donor dad, we are thankful.
our landlord. Who, unliked our prior landlord of 9 years who so often left us for weeks without heat during winter because he was too cheap to fix the furnace properly…Our current landlord fussed over the cost and it did take a week due to a part needed ordered from out of state, be he got it fixed and did not evict us, so we are grateful.
To R, for fixing our water heater free of charge not once, but twice. He is rude and thoughtless of our feelings, but when he is around, he’s pretty giving even if I have to grovel for that giving. Twenty plus years of friendship, bad blood, and we can still stomach each other. Big deal for me.
This laptop. A freebie from my days at R’s shop, 4 years later it is still going, even if the screen backlights are going out and the fan needs cleaned.
My nephew who installed Win 7 on this laptop and all the drivers and got it running 4 years ago.
My sister, who remains a badass metalhead like me, in spite of the forces around her draining the life and freedom out of her.
My mom, whose irresponsibility in making sure they can eat for the month goes out the window to buy my kid all the Christmas gifts I can never afford and am too responsible to throw caution to the wind to appease a fickle child.
Music. Even if my anxiety disorder dictates that it makes me panic…It has always been an oasis for me, anyway, when I am strong enough to cope with the anxiety it causes.
TV shows. Forensic Files, Unsolved Mysteries, True Blood, Buffy, Angel, E.R., et al…My fictional escape from the drudgery of depression and anxiety have been a calming blessing.
The on line friends who have moved on or passed, whose presence in my life, in whatever capacity, for however long, helped me survive some shitty stuff. Tyler, Becca, Kat/Kitty, Blah, Sass, Leslie, Andrew, Deon, Carol Anne, Patty, Kathy, Paul, Jason, Adrienne, Jennifer, and a few others whose blogs I read and they follow me but we’ve never really exchanged real names…YOU ARE ALL VERY IMPORTANT TO ME AND I LOVE YOU ALL IN MY OWN FUCKED UP WAY. If I have ever seemed ungrateful or bitchy or neflectful, you have my sincerest apologies. You’ve all made a huge difference in my life, as well as Spook’s and words defy the affection and gratitude we feel for each and every one of you.
Programs like SSDI, SSI, Food Stamps, Food pantries, Toys for Tots, Heat Assistance, Shop with a Cop, Angel Tree- for those of us in precarious situations and often at the mercy of cruel, flaky exes who contribute little to OUR children…The help is not merely viewed as a handout and we do not feel entitled. We are thankful for anything that helps us when we need it and this year…WE NEED ALL THE HELP WE CAN GET. And I truly am tired of saying it, but this is three years in a row the donor has quit/lost a job and left us high and dry on child support we desperately needed. I have high hopes that one day the help we receive, I will be able to pay forward.
My new telepsych doc, who has helped me more in 2 appointments than the NP did in a year. I won’t say the new combo has me wanting to live life to the fullest, but a return to the higher dose Xanax and the dual therapy as opposed to monotherapy, has helped considerably.
Kind people who understand not everyone chooses to be in a shitty financial/mental sitation and help out, even with a spirit lifting card, a thoughtful email, or a $5 deposit on paypal. You are who I wish I had the means to be because the kindness is in my heart, just not in my bank account. I ❤ you.


Meridian RX Insurance. I made a trip to town today to get my kid’s 20mg Metadate refilled and the insurance company refused OVER ONE FUCKING DAY EVEN THOUGH TOMORROW THE PHARMACY IS CLOSED. So my kid has to do without her meds cos one month had 31 days but the script is only for 30 and insurance won’t fucking cooperate. YOU SUCK, MERIDIAN! And IL state, too, for all their constrictive laws on ADHD meds and forcing kid care into an HMO hellish ordeal. If the doctor’s records indicate a refill is needed and they sign off on it, that should trump a bloody ass trash insurance company.
The fact that we had 70 mph winds last night and I woke up in the middle, unable to turn off my panic and paranoia because the wind was whipping so hard the windows were rattling in their frames. BUT I thought it was midnight and I had plenty of time to get back to sleep only to later realize…The phone says it’s 4:30 a.m. which means my alarm clock bedside lost power briefly and reset at 12:00 so I have two less hours to get some fucking sleep.
My brain for refusing to get to sleep, even with melatonin, until after the 6:30 a.m. alarm went off. Then I hit snooze four times and managed to nap in those increments, only to have to PRY myself awake and bellow for my child to get up cos I had no energy to move.
ME, for going back to sleep after my kid went to school, even if I truly was due the extra sleep. My plan for the day was to head to town by 9 a.m. Instead, I didn’t wake up and leave until 11, by which time I was mentally flogging myself for being so weak as to need more sleep.
Our kitten Ember, who for some reason, peed on my blanket. When you have no dryer and can’t hang things out to dry and no money for a laundromat…Dirty laundry, especially big heavy blankets, become an ordeal.
Public Aid, who is in no hurry to raise our food benefits, even though we have gone 5 weeks without a dime of child support. Kids can’t just skip eating, and I can’t just skip paying rent to buy food while red tape is processing. Frugal as I am, evem I can’t feed two people, especially a never full kid, on $150 for six weeks.
Rarely ever feeling warm enough, even under two covers or two layers of clothing. Whatever is wrong with my body’s thermostat needs to be FIXED.
Wind chafed lips. I have something going on with my mouth that signifies too much drool and wind exposure so my lips are red and chafed and I look like an infectious monkey. HATE.
My attention span, or lack of it, which hinders my ability to focus on functioning, let alone enjoying life.
The doctors who confuse me by saying yes you are A.D>D and need Focalin, then those who say no, artifact of bipolar, and oh, the ass trash insurance comapny that won’t cover the medication at all even if it makes me more functional and more productive.
Living in Armpit where the only businesses are a grain elevator and a minimart. Where the minimart only sells toilet paper by the roll and it costs $2.39 for ONE roll of T.P.
Living in Armpit, period. If gas was 99 cents a gallon circa 1989, I’d likely not have an issue. But nearly $3.00 a gallon and I need a gallon and a half for every trip to town where you can get anything, especially affordable things…It makes me feel isolated and not in a good way.
My desktop computer that keeled over even though I had it less than 6 months and barely used it. I NEED TO TO FUCKING WRITE AND I NEED MY DESKTOP TO DO IT, TRAITOR!
Myself-for not having the inner peace to write outside a desktop computer. But how many laptops have to be fried from overheating because my writing jags can last 18 hours? How about a laptop with a battery that lasts longer than 90 minutes and has enough fans to avoid overheating? Oh, right. That costs MONEY. But then again, the business model is to make them flimsy as possible so people have no choice but to replace them with a new model every couple of years. Ass trash.
Family who lives to insult and run me down, all the while wearing a smile and going, why do not want to hang with us?
Two faced people. Like my stepmonster offering me toilet paper, but then my dad is there and she says, ‘ask your daddy’ and he says, dead serious, ‘here, use this newspaper, was good enough when I was a kid.’ WTF, bitch? You brag that you wear the pants in the family then tell us to be submissive to our ‘daddy’ full well knowing he will say something negative…Two. Faced.
Myself. For not having the fortitude to stay awake the last few days and get housework done so that it is heading back to biohazard zone after how hard I worked to make it decent.
Myself. For having a sadistic conscience that cuts me zero slack no matter how awful I feel. I beat myself up so much, I may as well be a punching bag.
Society. For the newfound ‘victimhood’ tag that pretty much invalidates any emotion one might have as some sort of pansy snowflake weakness of character. I keep blogging but I am ever mindful of all the ‘snowflake’ and ‘victimhood’ bullshit that saturates the internet.
Social media. Once upon a time, the internet was a semi safe space if all you wanted was to type your feelings and be amongst people who would understand and empathize with your words. It felt mature, it felt legit, it felt…wonderful. Then came Facebook and Twitter and now…the internet has become an ugly, hostile, name calling junior high school. I opt to stick my mental health blog clique as opposed to joining any social media site where I would likely become a target from trolls. I am not saying trolls didn’t exist 15 years ago. I am just saying that even when the ‘leader of the free world’ is Tweeting 20 times a day and posting pics of his head pasted onto a muscle laden movie star chest while insulting anyone who dares to disagree with anything he says…HELLO, JUNIOR HIGH SCHOOL????
Mental health issues. I didn’t ask for this and I am tired of people acting as if it’s a choice I made to inconvenience them.
The term ‘behavioral health’ that has replace mental health in the medical community. It invalidates any sort of thought disorder, making even schizophrenia come off as ‘bad behavior’. It is a disservice to patients and professionals alike and I’d like to Z Whack whatever fuckhead coined the term and managed to transform an entire field to a different terminology that is a falsehood. Hey, I wanna rename brain surgery, “zombie apocalypse preparedness surgery”, can I, oh, please, oh please? ASS TRASH!

I will leave it there because honestly I could go on forever about all that pisses me off. And I know, it’s my issue, it’s on me, I am my own worst enemy. Blah blah blah. But my only self edict in this blog has been to be true to myself and simply tell my truth…no matter how irrational, discombobulated, unfair, ridiculous, self involved, delusional, paranoid, vapid, redundant…

This is me. This is who I am.

And if you can’t make it through one of my long posts without an eye roll or a hard pass cos you just don’t have the time…IMAGINE HOW I FEEL HAVING TO LIVE THIS WAY.

You get to click a box to ignore, close, move on.

And honestly, I envy you.

But it is what it is and this is my fucked up sanity challenged personality disorder laden reality.

And ya know what?

I AM GRATEFUL THAT WORDPRESS AND THE POWER OF THE INTERNET ALLOW ME THE LUXURY OF VENTING ALL MY INSANE FEELINGS HERE TO SHARE WITH OTHERS. Then in a way, I do get to click an X and exit the page and go…somewhere else. Even if the mentality remains the same, at least I have purged and moved onto a different page.

It ain’t much but I will take what I can get.

I am needy. Not greedy.

Spazzing Out

Posted in anxiety, anxiety disorders with tags , , , , , , , , , , on November 26, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Not an hour ago I posted about an episode of sudden, unexplained anxiety bordering on panic.

Well, I waited wayyyy too long to take Xanax. I am now in panxiety territory-where panic and anxiety meet and explode.

What if your heating assistance grant isn’t approved?

You haven’t gotten notice about an increase in food benefits since losing child support, what if there is some issue and you’ve been denied? It never takes 2 weeks for a decision…except that time it took a month but this MUST mean something went awry and now I can’t fucking feed my kid!!!!

Your kid came home spouting off about ‘bad juju feelings’, what the hell have you done to this child with all your psycobabble talk and superstition based ‘bad juju feelings’????

The weather is supposed to be changing, what if you can’t get to town to buy Thanksgiving food or the car breaks down and is fucked up for good?

What kind of mother lets the home run out of toilet paper so you have to swipe a roll from family and you’re still running out with a week to go before the check comes?

Oh, fuck, what if the check doesn’t come for some reason and you’ve got no grant to cover heat or food or Christmas or to buy toilet paper, the sky is falling, you’re a complete fuck up and failure as a mother, worthless!!!

My mood turned from bleak to black. I can’t even enjoy the show I was previously sort of getting into. The panxiety has stormed the castle and panic ninjas are coming at me from all sides with their paranoia laced throwing stars and panic enhanced swords…


I’m scared, I am really, really scared.

And what the hell kind of loving family can’t spring a buck to buy us a pack of toilet paper, for fuck’s sake???? Considering I took half my day to help them out last week when stepmonster needed a ride and accompaniment to her medical procedures…

Oh, and what about that so called good friend R who can’t even be bothered to drop ten bucks into my paypal account to help out til I can pay back when my check comes?

Oh, and what kind of loser ends up in this shitty position?

Oh, right. The deadbeat flaked on child support for the 4th time in 3 years and I can’t do a fucking thing about it because no one knows where he went (or he swore them to secrecy) and he doesn’t even update his address for court records, as he is supposed to do under law, being ya know, foreign….

My bad for relying on child support to support my child. What an irresponsible flake I am.

Oh, man, to be 20 years young, a hundred pounds thinner, and I’d so be doing internet webcam porn for a living. I don’t have pride when it comes to caring for Spook.

I also don’t have a computer with a working mic or webcam so even if I could find a fetish niche for fluffy nearing-50 ickiness, I couldn’t pull it off.


Society wants the disabled to get off the dole and be contributing members but when it comes to mental health disability, they do nothing to make it more accessable for us to use our skills without worsening our conditons…

Oh, wow, I just went off the fucking reservation…Total panic. Oh, and now I am kicking myself for the reservation comment as it is culterally insensitive…

Bloody fucking hell!!!!!

I REALLY wish this goddamn hell hole of the midwest had axe throwing or Rage rooms. I need some REAL fucking therapy that involves breaking shit and relieving pent up aggression and fear and paranoia.

I miss my voodoo doll (bawling emoji here) He was lost in the move. How it healed my spirits to stab him with knitting needles or bashing his head against things. It only sounds fucked up, I swear. It’s a bloody mass marketed doll, not specific to anyone. Just…shitty things life throws at me. I want another voodoo/dammit doll.

Of course, right now, I’d settle for $20 to refill my meds and buy some toilet paper and put gas in the car.

Okay, the Xanax is finally kicking in…Sanity is peeking in, waving at me shyly, seeing if it’s okay to return, I suppose. Not even the crazy wants to live my super crazy.

Though from my sci-fi show Lost Girl, they called a sucubus crazy and she pointed out, “The proper term is mentally unstable.”

I myself am fond of ‘sanity challenged’.

But it all leads back to society’s perception of crazy.

Fuck society and its collective ignorance when it comes to mental illness. Oh, behavioral health.

That term needs to die in a fucking fire.


Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , on November 26, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I am feeling extreme anxiety today, to the point of a churning stomach and hives. I can’t explain it because nothing has really triggered it. I even managed to go to my dad’s without too much trauma. Yet…here I am, at the corner of anxiety attack and panic episode. I am reluctant to take a Xanax because my once bountiful stash has dwindled and can’t be replenished if I don’t restart my hoarding and self discipine, ie: self punishment and withholding of what could make me feel less…like a cornered animal. I will get to taking one shortly but man, that last psych center benzo nazi regime really got into my head and now I feel shitty for taking more than their low dose even though the new doc put me back where I need to be. Talk about conditioning. Not that it’s anything new. I’ve come across several people in my life with preconceived notions that anyone who took xanax at all was addicted and needed rehab to fix their problem. Yet they saw how altered my behavior and demeanor were once xanax was on board, they changed their tunes, amazingly. Well, not one of them, but that’s a sordid password protected mind fuck of a mess from 11 years ago.

Conditioning, ick. I like to think myself as unmalleable but it seems I put myself in a supplicant position,personality wise, a little too often. Not often enough for anyone to mistake me for a doormat but often enough that they play on my psych diagnoses and corner me, making my every reaction to their shitty behavior about my mental issues. Cos saying, ‘sorry,I am being a jerk’ is just asking too fucking much from neurotypicals. I should apologize for things I can’t control but they never have to be sorry for a damn thing. They haven’t conditioned that outrage out of me yet. Sooo bloody tired of being the one to get therapy and meds and make changes and grow as a person while those around me prove to be immovable objects. On an evolutionary scale, this is disappointing, even in my new ‘woke’ state about my own contribution to my social and emotional issues. Maybe I don’t always recognize when I am being a bitchbeast but when I do, or it is pointed out, I have the decency to say, “I’m sorry” instead of going on the attack and saying shit like,”Don’t be so sensitive” or “learn to take a joke”. Or I wait til after I apologize to go sarcastic. Because I truly DO feel bad when I behave badly and make others feel shitty. Good thing I have a strong psyche because apparently all the conscience lacking in those around me has been instilled in my mind…cos I even feel bad for them for being such jerks and not even being smart enough to know they are being jerks.

My mind is such a clusterfuck.

So…another morning where I could barely get up with my kid. I could not get warm. I went back to sleep as soon as she was on the bus. This napping thing has become daily when she is not home and it’s pissing me off. I started staying up later and taking melatonin at the last minute in hopes it might help me stay asleep but…all it has done is bring about the naps. I really don’t want to go back to going to bed at 7:30 so my brain is calmer by 10 p.m. I am trying to wean myself from the benadryl and melatonin, cutting the dose 3/4 in hopes of not being groggy in the morning and going back to sleep. I just want to sleep sans pills for a change and yet…if I do that, I am still awake at 3 a.m. I have had this sleep disturbance for 20 years, I can’t explain it.

I couldn not fix the stepmonster’s laptop because the problem is with her ten year old router and her Win 8 OS not playing nice together. They weren’t too awful, aside from calling me and waking me from my guilty nap and guilting me into coming over. Though maybe my dad contributed to the anxiety. The conversation:

“Your car is making a bad sound in front, if you keep driving it that way, you’re going to tear it up.”
Me: “So what should I do?”
Him: “Keep driving it. Next time you go to town, stop by afterward so we can feel if you have any hot spots near your tires.”

BRAIN IMPLOSION. Keep driving it, tear it up. Hey, go drive it. What the actual fuck?????

I need to go to town tomorrow to get stuff to make chicken and noodles for Turkey day. Maybe that impending ordeal of two trips in tow days is adding to my anxiety. That and my kid’s pain in the ass friend who cannot get it through his head that when he calls and I say no, she isn’t hanging out today, it does NOT mean ignore me and come to the door so I have to tell her no again and bring about her wrath on me because you’re a spoiled, apparently deaf brattleaxe. He really stresses me out. And it’s not like I don’t feel for the kid, he is on the spectrum and has zero friends, but man…annoying as fuck. And being told no only to show up anyway and act hurt that I said no again…I don’t want to have to talk to his mother but it may come to that. And he is two grades ahead of Spook so I don’t even get the peace of mind thinking, hey, worry less, she is with an older kid…In this case, the older kid is less mature than my kid.

Okay, so maybe I do have things to explain the anxiety but hives and a burning stomach ache? Seems extreme.

Doctors ran tests and it was always the same conclusion: you internalize stress and it impacts you physically.

Bloody lovely.

I guess as it nears time for the moody return of Spook, I think it may be time to take a Xanax. And ego check myself for calling her moody when it’s a pot-kettle-black situation.

Self awareness fucking sucks.

Plowboys, Bruised Fruit, and Harsh Self Truths

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , , on November 25, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

As the weather keeps its weird ups and downs (it was sunny and almost 60 today, last week we had snow and ice and single digits!!! this plays hell on seasonal affective disorder) and the helliday and family get together nears, I find my energy depleted, my will to live nil, and dread the size of the titanic envelopes me. And I am still hormonal as fuck and because it has gone on so long, I think it means by old nemesis, ovarian cysts, have returned to fuck with my mental state. Or menopause is knocking on the door. Idk, I just find myself uncomfortable mentally, physically, and emotionally wrecked on a daily basis. And when you try to explain to this others when they ask why you’ve become a recluse only to be told to ‘suck it the fuck up’…Not that I embrace the culture of victimhood but it does start to feel like you’re being abused when people can’t even fake basic empathy, compassion, and civility. I just got off the phone with my ass trash father and that was how he and stepmonster were talking to me. “Suck it the fuck up.” All they want is for me to come over and figure out why her laptop won’t connect to their wifi. Um, cos it’s fucking dumpster fire Windows 8? (And yes, I know they are ending support for Win 7 but much like I have done with XP, I will cling to the superior operating system until they pry it out of my cold rotting hands!!!!) I could have a machete in my head and those redneck motherfuckers would tell me to suck it up. Yet because of dad’s age and their diabetes and stepmonster’s low iron, I am supposed to show them respect and compassion???? They talk about it so much it makes everyone around them a little nauseated. But if I mention MY health issues, physical or mental, it’s ‘suck it up’.

I am livid to find myself 46 years old and still prisoner to my toxic family’s, well, toxicity. And my feelings toward them may be heightened at the moment, but they are not wrong. My dad told me recently I needed to ‘lower your standards and get yourself a good old plowboy”. I think in redneck speak that means some country bumpkin farmer or trucker with a good job. And if I met one I had anything in common with, I wouldn’t care what they did for a living or where they were from. My standards are not that high but I do want someone I click with on a rudimentary level. And with my current emotional battles I am a nightmare for myself, let alone dragging some unsuspecting person along for the blessed hellride. And I don’t even know why he thinks to say these idiotic things because not once have I said ‘woe is me, I am all alone’. I CHOOSE to be alone. And yeah, I DO like guys who are tall and have long hair and listen to heavy metal and appreciate the horror and sci-fi genres because, hello, common ground. But I’ve never once said they had to tick every box to meet my ‘standards’. And they are so ignorant and lacking in self awareness they refuse to admit the exes I do have-they BACKED before me and told me not to hurt the guys. Well, hubby one chose drugs over me, hubby 2 walked out on his kid, and they were both ‘upstanding’ men. And by redneck standards that means they held a job and bathed.

Idk why I still let it eat me alive. It’s not as if their input has ever had ANY bearing on my actions or thoughts. Though I guess in a way they throw their punches and the bruises land and it puts a dent in my limited self esteem.

I’ve been doing this terrifying new thing where I actually have DEEP THOUGHTS (with Jack Handy…sorry, old SNL reference, couldn’t help myself.)

I’ve met women I find far more aggressive and abrasive than me but the men put up with them easier than they can me. And I think it’s because those women have self confidence. I lack confidence when it comes to interacting with other people. Partly because I had so little positive reinforcement from my parents and peers, and also, because from single digit age, my mother drummed it into me that saying you’re good at something is the same thing as conceit and ‘being stuck on yourself’.

So in my mind, I have become ‘bruised fruit’. I signed a petition or two about how bruised/ugly produce get pitched and aren’t even donated to the needy because they have a bruise or a dark spot. Ugly doesn’t mean spoiled or no good. But of course-and I do this myself- it is human nature to choose the shiny red apple, the bright white onion, or the crispy green celery over that which is browning, wilting, or puny. Because I have come to view myself this way, maybe inside I have given up on being ‘chosen’ from the shelf that is the meat market of dating life. Deep down, I know while troubled, I have a good soul and a good heart and it should be all that matters. But because so many have discarded me or flat out rejected me and my own family reinforces this cycle with their ‘love with strings and insults attached’ mentality…Any self esteem I collect is quickly undone. In a way, it’s not so bad. I stay to myself I don’t end up being one of those women who hop bed to bed in desperate search of any affection and acceptance even if it’s shallow and sleazy. Other hand, I also don’t put myself out there so am I really bruised unwanted fruit or am I hiding in the stockroom, rotting in a corner because I won’t get my ass on the shelf?

DEEP THOUGHTS, as processed by a mood swinging anger seething bitchbeast whose only comfort has become the nothingness of sleep, including napping during the day. (SOOO not my normal.)

AND it gets scarier because I’ve had to do some hard looking at my own reactions to others’ behavior. And it kills me to admit, I’ve been pretty unfair to others at times. I expect to be treated with a modicum of respect and when I am ignored, I mistake others being disnterested or busy as being rude and disrespectful. I want my needs catered to the way I cater to them, accepting them as being emotionally unavailable or plain rude when in fact…some of them are just ignorant, thoughtless in a chronic manner, or too narcissistic to care let alone change. And I can’t keep collecting injustices and holding them against people just because they are jerks. I gotta learn not to get attached to certain expectations and if my needs are being met in one way, I need to accept whatever is being offered or move along and stop holding a grudges.

Admitting that was like being punched in the gut and heart.

But that is why the self aware are, self aware, and the narcissistic and ignorant remain just that. Self awareness comes with a price and it is hefty, having to admit half your problems with interactions are because of your own faulty thoughts and expectations. It leads to guilt, self flogging, sagging confidence, inability to come to grips with not being able to change the past, and terror that you will just keep repeating the pattern even though you know what needs to change…That is a heavy burden to carry so I guess I see why so many opt out and choose to be blatant jerks or oblivious,well meaning idgets.

But sticking my head in the sand is not an option for me. Evolution is necessary for me to keep putting up a fight and if that means owning even more of my own ickiness as a human…so be it. That those around me remain the same and continually do things I find hurtful and disrespectful, well, it’s just free will. I can do my best to avoid the toxic folks, and do my best to make sure I am not one of them anymore, but…

It is never wrong to expect others to treat you with digitity and self respect. When they fail to do this, you have every right to take offense, be hurt, feel wronged.

The challenge is shaking it off and learning to accept that maybe X can’t even discuss something more serious than a youtube video with you, they’ll spend a hundred bucks to fix your car when it is broken down. Or that people raised by abusive parents who told them to suck it up really don’t know any better than to pass on the same abuse and think it’s acceptable and normal as long as they make sure your car oil is changed.

Really wish I had some Mangoritas to wash down THAT hubcab sized bitter pill.

Knowing you will never receive the kind of love you need from those who claim to love you-knowing that essentially you’re worth some money for your car but not compassion or empathy…

Yeah. Sticks in the throat and leaves behind a bitter taste.

I am choosing to view these people as ‘quid pro quo’ opportunities, as I have always attempted to do. Take what is useful and try not to get sucked into their emotionally stunted void.

And never give up on one day finding even a fraction of what it is I need on an emotional level to be content.

Male, female, romantic, platonic, urban, country, rich, poor…none of it truly matters.

But I do insist they have a fucking conscience in how they treat others and the soul to feel bad when they’ve behaved badly.

If I can offer that much, then expecting to receive the same isn’t some far out there ‘standards too high’ bullshit.

Protected: P.L.B.S-Erase My Scars

Posted in Uncategorized with tags on November 24, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

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P.L.B.S-Pissy Little Bitch Syndrome

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , on November 24, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Now I am having pissy little bitch syndrome and it’s not much to do with situation. It’s bloody hormonal imbalance, making me feel the urge to rage against and hate on everything, even taking some of it out on my child for nothing more than her being her disrespectful screaming defiant self. I’ve not raised my voice. It is much more effective to speak softly, in a low voice, and express disappointment and dislike for her behavior. She calls it my scary devil voice. I should use it more often because today she is half ass cooperating with me on some stuff.

I have pissy little bitch syndrome. (I am gonna put up a password protected post about that blast from the past, just email ( if any interest in reading it.)

I still have cramps and a backache. I told my stepmom I’d come over to figure out why her laptop won’t connect to their internet but hey, mood swing overnight, big shock. It was all I could do to throw some clothes in the washer so I can get them hung dry so Spook has clean clothes tomorrow. I at least had a second wind yesterday to get the dishes done while I was on the phone with stepmonster. Oh, my god, the woman can talk…and talk…and talk…I tried to extricate myself from the call so many times I lost count but she was having none of it. And if I use the phone dying excuse, even when true, they just call my cell and use up my limited prepaid time so suffice it to say, phone calls have become even more distasteful to me than they have been over the last decade. Much as incessant texting bugs me, there are days I wish they would just text me. I can’t be around my dad sixty seconds and he asks, “What are you bulling about?” (His term for my mom’s tendency to scowl constantly.) And it’s like, I’m not even aware I am frowning, and it’s got nothing to do with him or anyone, I just go away and get lost in all my multiple stations coming in on the same frequency so yeah, maybe I am unconsciously frowning but for all they know, it could be sadness over losing our kitten, it could be cramps, it could be a bad memory. The donor was always like that, poking me over every facial expression and simpering, “What did I do wrong?”

I AM FUCKING BIPOLAR AND HAVE A MAJOR PANIC DISORDER SO PARDON ME IF I DON’T HAVE THE MENTAL RESCOURCES TO CONSTANTLY WORRY WHAT EXPRESSION I HAVE ON MY FACE. And ya know sometimes, maybe it has to do with the fact that some people’s presence just bring me down and maybe I’ve gotten so used to insults coming my way that my jaw clenches independent of my brain. God knows, the man is still on my ass about my driving, saying I ‘mash’ on the pedal and accelerate too quickly. Which he has said since I was 16 and honestly, I don’t think I do it that drastically. The car lags a little if I don’t give it a little more gas. Not that he’d buy my explanation. His entire goal in life is to play this ‘I insult you constantly but I love you” bullshit. No wonder my facial expressions subconsciously shift into a grimmace when he’s near. I will make a note to plaster on my best Joker smile.

I am in the final season of True Blood. I KNOW I fucking watched this back in 2014 when Bex was here and yet…I’ll be damned if anything beyond season four seems familiar. And now I am in the final season and everyone’s gone redneck mob mentality and it depresses the fuck out of me because…remove the vamps, it’s a pretty accurate portrayal of our current political and social climate. Pack mentality, panic, fear, hatred, all leading to nothing good. Lumping people of certain beliefs as all bad or all good, no in between. Never judging people as individuals but as a group. Demoncrats are the vampires and republitards are the angry mob. Which in their mind, of course, is flipped and demoncrats are the mob and republitards are the victims. It’s just been a neverending dumpster fire for the last 4 years and it doesn’t show much sign of changing. THey can showboat and make claims about change but with that stupid fucking electoral college still in play…our votes don’t matter. People can’t accept that fact.

But yeah, I see politics even in vampire fiction. And I feel anxiety just watching this show as everyone grabs their pitchforks and torches and pillages toward whatever ‘enemy’ they deem a threat, without regard to middle ground or basic courtesty or civility. And social media amplifies times a billion so there is no end in sight. My anxieties on this one, minus vampires, is legit.

Otherwise, stellar fucking morning. I just want to go back to sleep.

Instead I am going to face down my anxiety and finish the final season of True Blood because it really has helped get the creative juices toward my own writing project flowing. There is always this ‘sadness’ when a series comes to an end and you’re like, but I like these characters, I want their story to keep going! (And Spoiler for NCIS: New Orleans fans, them killing off LaSalle has had me not watching it in weeks. Kinda like when Sons Of Anarchy killed of Tara and I couldn’t watch it for a month, I was so shaken. I know I take this stuff way too seriously, but this is who I am, deal with it or move along.)

Anyway…Just needed a good rant. I do not like pissy little bitch syndrome one bit and the doctor telling me it’s only going to get worse as my hormones fluctuate into menopausal territory..I could really use a rage room or some axe throwing. The anger is mind boggling, especially when I have nothing too awful to feel so angry about. Then again, pregnant women have no real reason to bawl incessantly then cheer up and ask for pickles and ice cream, but those damned hormones are a bitch and make you…not quite you. Difference is, people give preggos a lot of latitude. The rest of us just get crap about being on the rag or being psycho menopausal…It’s a compassionate world. NOT.

I miss fictional stress. At least then my anger is geared toward the angry villagers and their pack mentality. I could say they were republicans but honestly…I have lost so much faith in my country and government, I don’t think I want to belong to either side, constantly at war, tearing each other apart. I think I’d rather remain a lone wolf with my own ideas and no labels. I’ve been disliked for that for so long, it doesn’t even bother me too much anymore.

And that should be my epitaph. “True to herself and defiant to assimilation til the end.”