Dysphoric Doll

Wish I could say I felt better today than yesterday when I was breathing fiery wrath over feeling utterly ignored by everyone. That simply isn’t how depression works. Or hormones, for that matter. The ovary oompa loompas are squishing randomly and my cramps seriously fucking hurt. When you’re in pain, you don’t feel so shiny happy people.

We got more snow and they canceled school again today.

I woke in the middle of the night and could not get back to sleep so in desperation I took 50mg Trazadone. Oh, I slept 4 solid hours after that. Of course, now I feel like I am wrapped in gauze and walking into walls and my brain is in the slow lane. Add the cold and snow and cramps onto it, all I want is to curl up under Fort Blankie and stare mindlessly at TV shows I’ve watched a thousand times before. And hope maybe I sneak in a power nap before my kid comes to show me her latest creation in her Minecraft world.

I have a newsflash for the rainbow puking optimistic folks: SOME DAYS ARE JUST BLOODY GARBAGE.

And yay, I get to go tell the shrink next week that again, I am not feeling better, next med, please. But what haven’t I already tried aside from bee venom, hallucinogenic toad licking, and electro shock? The one drug I might have luck with isn’t in generic form and no way my ass trash insurance company is gonna shell out $1200 a month for it. Back on the medi go round, unless this doctor wants to throw a curveball and increase the Cymbalta one final time to max out. But I submit that 5 months and three dose increases, this isn’t my magic bullet. Which bloody sucks cos once upon a time, it was THE magic bullet, I felt so good on it.

Undoubtedly, I will also get the ‘you just need more sunlight and exercise’ spiel, because that is every doctor’s solution to seasonal depression. If you’re neurotypical and don’t experience depression any other time but winter, maybe that stuff works fine. But when you’re bipolar and your mood states swing to extremes year round the added stressor of unpredictable weather kicks your ass. And no matter how awesome doctors may be, they can’t change the weather or my body’s response to all the cold, snow, rain, sleet, gray gloom, and whatever switch is thrown come change of seasons. It’s internal and if I thought it would work, I’d find a big metal spork and start digging into my own brain to weed out the part that causes this shit.

This is so frustrating. I want so badly to feel good, to be productive, to feel hopeful.

My reality is that everything seems dark and bleak and pointless and I must wonder on an hourly basis why I even bother, I am obviously a perpetual fuck up who needs to be written off.

What the scumbag brain does not take into account is how long we’ve been doing this dance and I know it lies and distorts, so I just hang on and keep tying knots in my frayed rope and hang on some more because eventually…The mood tides will shift and even if not depression free, I tend to end up in better ‘fighting shape’ to do battle with all the lies my mind tells me.

Today is not gonna be one of those tough girl days.

No, this is gonna be, “I’m hungover from sleeping pills, my back hurts, the cramps are killing me, and I feel so utterly useless I think I should just quit writing all together because no one cares therefore I must suck at it so why bother, oh, and why bother thinking I have a future at all, hand me the funky Kool-Aid” day.

LIES LIES LIES LIES, scumbag brain.

I may not be mainstream writing material but I still have hope I will find my niche with people who appreciate scrambled eggs and tossed salad style rants with morbid humor and lots of swearing.

And if you can hold onto that hope and that defiant ‘fuck you, depression, you’re a fucking liar!” indignation…

You’re down but far from out.

I just feel so…alone. Not lonely. Alone. Like no one is pulling for me and that is where I could use some help now. Honestly, is it asking too much for the occasional comment of empathy or encouragement? It helps more than anyone can ever know. But I guess this mental dysphoria just brings out my inner needy bitch (I thought I slayed her a long time ago but she just keeps reappearing, damn whore).

(And FYI, I DO understand why many do not comment, it feels too much like socialization and sometimes you got nothing to say, so hey, I get that…One comment every other month even if just an encouraging emoji would be cool. Balance out all the spam I get from people wanting to sell me male enhancement drugs.)

Fort Blankie is calling my name. I saw this graphic on another blog and I was just like whoa, yea, exactly like that. We can’t escape our minds or our guilt. Very inspirational. Forgiving yourself knowing all your mistakes…that’s not an easy task. (And I apologize for not linking to the blog it came from, but until my brain unscrambles from Trazadone, I just…can’t remember.)

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