Archive for the anxiety disorders Category

Wellbutrin: Treat One Disorder, Worsen Another

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , , , on December 16, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

I’ve never ever been one to respond well to any of their anti depressnts that allegedly help with anxiety. In fact, stuff like Paxil that was supposed to specifically lessen the anxiety, made me more anxious and paranoid. Knowing this, however, I still asked the nurse doc if we could try Wellbutrin again. I’m desperate and it has been failure after failure on the usual and unusual med suspects. Seemed maybe an ‘old’ friend that lasted almost 2 years at least half effectively was better than blindly facing the unknown again. Besides, I had blamed most of my issues with Wellbutrin on Trintellix and when I stopped that, well, things did slightly improve. Wasn’t til I was off both that I went down the depressive rabbit hole AND situational anxiety kicked my ass.

The bottom line for me is…anti depressants heighten my anxiety and paranoia. Yet I am so tired of living in depressive hopelessness, I am willing to treat the anxiety with two different medications so I can take the Wellbutrin in hopes of seeing light of day. It’s only been a few days and the dose doubled as of yesterday but I hadn’t paid it too much mind. Until this morning.

My dad called to wake me at 8:30 (I fell asleep around 5 a.m. for the second time) to tell me my brother has strep, but I went back to sleep until my alarm poked me with a stick and I bitch slapped its off button. I went back to sleep again but was so uncomfortable, bladder wise, I forced myself to get up though it was a task and a half. I’m not joking when I say I prefer my dreams, even bad ones, to how I have been feeling lately while awake.

I am supposed to be at peace and rested and whirlwind cleaning and getting the tree up today.

Instead I’m so rattled I am enduring The Brady Bunch on tv because I feel like movement, positive or negative, is going to spark some international incident in my own brain. That ‘deer in the headlights’ feeling that has been my norm as far back as I can remember. I used to be able to ride it out and come out on the other side after awhile.

Now thanks to the anti depressant heightening my anxiety, the only way I can calm down and get out of paranoia zone is to take an antihistamine, and if that doesn’t help, then take half a Xanax. And if that doesn’t work…I sit rooted in my spot, feeling like the alarm bells are ringing and the red warning lights are blaring and blinking. I should bathe. But I have this odd feeling that the minute I commit is the moment they will return my child to me so I’ll end up having to get out of the tub to retrieve her and play nice and…

Same goes for housework. Second I start to focus on that, she will return home to regale me with tales of how they let her stay up til 1:30 a.m. and bought her this and that and let her eat 4 pounds of cookies and ice cream, then her exhaustion will set in and she will spew pea soup on me metaphorically in the form of mood swings and tantrums…

Much as I need these occasional breaks from my kid…I think the process makes me as stressed out as her behavior does, anyway. At least when she is with me we have a loose routine where I don’t let her survive on sugar, stay up too late, or demand ‘if you love me, you’ll take me shopping for X, Y, and Z.” This is what she learned from that faction and it will take me a day or two just to get her calmed down and rested up. Honestly, if she was a different kid, more like me and my sister were as kids, even, we could stay up late, get up early, and it didn’t phase us. Spook doesn’t get her 11 hours of sleep, she becomes a venomous pit viper every single time and I’m the one they return the snake to. So this stresses me out and I think I just want her returned and the status quo of our situation to be reinstated that it makes the medication induced anxiety feel worse than it is.

The script antihistamines helped take the edge off slightly but I predict Xanax being called into play soon. Maybe then I can get out of the headlights and accomplish something. Even if it’s just feeding myself. (Which btw has become such a task, I’ve been slicing up raw potatoes and salting the fuck out of them and eating those, with the skins on, just so my belly will stop growling.)

8 days and things will be better. Christmas day is usually just me and Spook so I can deal with that. And then it will be over for another year. I really resent my dad for his shittily timed walk out on our mom. He could have waited til after the fucking holidays so we wouldn’t equate happy events with when our family was blown to smithereens. But that would require self awareness and a man who knocks up his teenage gf while still married obviously has no awareness. It’s been 19 years, almost 20, and I still can’t adapt to our new normal as a divided family. But then again…even when I was part of that family I fought tooth and nail to move out when I was 17 to escape its dysfunction. Guess you just miss things that used to give you at least a good feeling for a few days. Now everyone is as divided as the political climate in the country right now so it fills me only with dread.

Aside from veering off course with my rant there…if your anti depressant makes your anxiety worse, talk to your prescriber and weigh the pros and cons. This isn’t an optimal state for me, but the dark thoughts were far more destructive than walking on eggshells with my nerves is right now.

And don’t be surprised if you are prescribed an anti depressant for anxiety but it doesn’t actually help at all. There are many of us who don’t fit the tidy little mold of how things should work. Doesn’t make the drug a bad one, nor does it make us bad people. Much as it is science, finding a psych med combo you can live with is also an artform. One it can take years to perfect. Never give up.

And ignore that little nagging thought at the back of your mind that your skeleton is trying to escape your skin, it is illusion. Oh, wait, does that just happen to me?


Tis The Season To Hate And Berate…Myself

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , , , on December 15, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

I had a sleepless night because we had to be in town first thing today and when I have stuff looming overhead…well, I may have taken my meds at 7 p.m. but I was still awake at 9:30 because, anxiety. My spawn woke me before it was even light outside today. I adapted to this Mon-Fri 6:30 a.m. ish school daywalker thing, but when it’s not even 6 a.m. and I’m awake but not because I haven’t yet slept…Ugh. I told her to go back to bed but she didn’t. I had ninety minutes left before the alarm so I did go back to sleep…for 40 minutes, but she was so excited to go to town and about sleeping over at grandma’s, I was doomed no matter what on the ‘sleeping in’ front.

So we got our task over with and I dropped her at Grandma’s, so Grandma could tell her that I am a good mother and she should be grateful to me, only in the next breath to criticize me and say it’s my fault for ‘letting’ my kid behave rudely. HUH??????? I ground her, take away electronics, put her to bed early. The only things I don’t do is use food as punishment or spank her. The kid has a mind of her own, always has, and this ‘we don’t let her get away with that sort of thing’ is bullfuckingshit. But hey, they’re the ones who don’t mind going hungry as long as they spend money on ‘fun’ stuff and what 9 year old is going to mind for the fun people they only occasionally see yet be an ass to the party pooper fun stomping full time parent. Blarggg.

I can only take so much of my family, and especially my mother. She’s got early stage dementia so I try not to be too harsh but I also remember how she has critiqued me my whole life without any regard to my mental disorders so…I stay away from her and my dad, both, every therapist who ever met them told me and my sister they were toxic and to be avoided for our own mental well being.

I thought coming home to peace and quiet would be a nice change.

Then my dad called. And he got in on the berating, claiming no one in town will rent to me, which is asinine. We had 2 weeks to move, I didn’t exactly have time to interview landlords, not that a reference helps when you don’t have the bloody money. But he started in on me and went on for 20 minutes…and this is how self absorbed they all are, I’ve half tuned out and just occasionally mumbled, “Hmm, uh huh…” and they don’t even notice. The only time it is about me is when there are criticisms and insults to be made. Otherwise, my place is to shut up, take the abuse, and listen to whatever they have going on without mentioning my own situation because HELLO WE ALREADY COVERED THAT NIKI DOES NOT MATTER OUTSIDE BEING SPOOK’S MOTHER.

The only saving grace now I can pray for is that both factions are done berating me and making my hate myself for this day. I am serious, when I fall into these depressions and the anxiety reaches fever pitch as it has recently…I cease to be a woman about to turn 46 who isn’t reliant on any family faction for anything and suddenly, I am a helpless 13 year old again, with no choice but to put up with their insults and if I defend myself it will make things worse and tuning them out is only effective half the time but then I get to stew over their words in my own head for hours and days…These are people I’d probably wave at, maybe say hello to, but sure as hell would not CHOOSE to associate with because they’re ignorant and say stupid racist shit like ‘he’s nice for a black guy’ or ‘she’s nice for a lesbian’ and oh, yeah, dad’s faction flies the confederate flag and my sister is essentially a damn handmaid only her job is to serve mom and her own husband as opposed to having babies so hell to the fuck no am I down with that domestic goddess clean freak thing…

So if they are so different from me, and so toxic…why does it hurt so much when they put me down? Why, at my age, do I still give even a minute fuck? And therein lies the rub that not even 33 years of therapy has managed to explain aside from that whole genetic bond family love (gag with a spork, ugh!) thing.And the truly insulting thing is that I care more at 46, relying on neither parental faction for anything, than when I literally was a child at their mercy. But again, ONLY when the depression soaks in and turns me into this whiny weak fragile thing that I despise so thoroughly. Because this is a small facet of my personality. I didn’t survive being a metal chick in the country music redneck pit of hatred by being a shrink violent who allowed others to dictate her self worth. Is it possible that as I become more mature and evolved by society’s standards, it is actually a process of devolving for me?

How I wish all the times I escaped from this state I could have been stable enough to afford to stay away. Because if I only had to deal with my family a few days a year and had a chance to miss them, well, then maybe I wouldn’t be feeling like the sniveling little bitch I am now. Oh, I’m nearing 50 and my mommy still calls me a bitch, boo hoo…Actually, that’s a bad example because bitch is totally complimentary to me. Oh, but when she rags on my parenting skills…EEEEVIL woman. Like the joke about the southern bells who put you down just by saying, ‘bless your little heart’.

I need all this garbage out of my head. I need to remember who I am, who I have always been, I’ve been so focused on growing up ( not that a man walking out and leaving you with a small child to care for really gives you much choice) that I think I’ve inadvertently quashed some parts of ‘immature’ me that were in fact quite badass and mentally healthy. So while the parental poison circulates through my system today, I think I will also give myself the best gift possible:

Forgiveness for being such a screw up that my parents are so harsh on me. I forgive me. I’ve tried to do my best, I continue trying to do my best, and frankly, pleasing these people is never going to happen so…

Maybe one day I can get their toxixity out of my system and…learn to like myself a little more.

Because hey, I’ve made some good friends on line who see me as more than, well, whatever derogatory term my family is hurling at me today. Maybe they see something in me, through my writing, that my family never will because…they consider being forced to read a punishment.

2019 resolution: try to get back to being me, including the good parts who aren’t afraid to say, “Go to hell if you don’t like it.” That 13 year old girl I used to be had moxie.

She was also an idiot who frequently got crushes on gay men without a clue as to why that wasn’t really going to work out.

So I’ll keep the mature stuff but if being able to stand up for myself and say ‘fuck you’ means learning to like and accept myself as a flawed but semi decent person…

I think I’m on the right track.

Still wouldn’t turn down the option to relocate far, far away from here. Just sayin’.

Bad Mom Blues

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , on December 12, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

My kid has her school Christmas program tonight. I’m a nervous wreck over it. It was bad enough when I went during the daytime with my dad driving for the Veteran’s Day thing. The lot was packed and we almost got run into twice, it was a harrowing experience. And I wasn’t even driving. I can’t fathom how horrid it will be with all six grades having a program thus all the families and cars and limited parking so other cars will be blocking in other cars like it was in November. Spook has changed her mind a dozen times. She wants to go, she doesn’t, she does. Now she says she does and my dad and stepmonster apparently want to attend but not in a useful fashion like taking us in their car. All because students have to be there at 5:40 and they don’t want to be invoncenienced for 20 minutes. And now she is in 4th grade, which means her grade probably won’t make an appearance til an hour end. She’s tall so she is always in the back row but I still can never get a decent picture of her. GRRRR.

What kind of monster mom puts her own anxieties ahead of her kid’s school activities? She’s only missed one event since she started school and that was a Pre-K program, and we were both ill. I don’t want to rob her of anything but man, traffic pile ups and panic attacks are not what I need right now. Not to mention my poor eyesight at night. It’s like tempting someone to back into my car or, god forbid, me hit someone’s car. Or a person. Or, oh dear, someone’s kid. I feel like such a horrid mom but I’ve barely been breathing or sleeping for 3 months prior to a guardian angel helping ensure we survive December…I am just worn out and not feeling all that fierce or brave. I am feeling neurotic, anxious, scatterbrained, and truth be told, two hours of Christmas songs shrieked out by children is as appealing as a root canal without Novacaine.

I should think others would have complaints about the dismal space alotted for parking but I guess it’s just me. And I am going to have to suck it up. Which isn’t as easy as you might think, because my anxiety comes with sweating, trembling, and pretzel gut resulting in needing to be near a bathroom. On top of all that, I’ll be contending with hundreds of people. (This school combines children from 4 different towns nearby, so it’s cloistering compared to her old school in town.) I need to stop thinking only of myself but I also gotta say, if I have a wreck for the first time as an adult and it results in even higher insurance costs…it just seems too damned risky.

Now mind you, I wish I were feeling my badass self but three months living on the edge, barely sleeping and worrying myself sick..I’m exhausted and i just wanted to enjoy the relief of knowing we have been blessed with so much kindness and generousity from our ‘angels’. Is it eeally that big of a deal? Missing a program when she admits she too gets nervous-sick and only knows the words to one song…

I despise my disorders. I am not real fond of myself right now. I am sure I will pull it off. Or not. I can’t rock the perfect mom thing right now, the kid and world may just have to suck it up and accept ‘good enough’. Ya know the stupid thing is, if I were physically ill and couldn’t make her program, people wouldn’t blink. They’d be supportive and empathetic. But mental health issues, forget it.

I blame this, in part, due to mental health being reclassified as ‘behavioral health’. Because we all love being manic and depressive and anxious and paranoid, it’s just a choice we make and our behavior can totally be fixed with talking it out.

I can barely write it without flipping off the computer screen. It makes me that mad.

I hate feeling like a bad mom. And I really hate that I find myself wishing my flubola had timed itself better for tonight instead of the weekend so I wouldn’t have to feel like a bad mom. Why is physical sickness forgiveable yet mental health issues are fodder for judgments and nastiness?

It’s the people who beheave that way who need assistance with their ‘behavioral health’. Because they are clearly choosing to behave like jerks and don’t even care.

At least I feel bad all around whether it’s my mental or physical health that negatively impacts my child.

My Dark Place Alone

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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


Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , on November 7, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

It’s very difficult to explain-in a manner in which non bipolar people can understand- when I get to feeling ‘unsafe’. It isn’t delusion, it isn’t paranoia. I don’t think some masked murderer is lurking in the shadows to kill me. I don’t think someone is out to poison my soda or that the cats have donned leather jackets and switchblades in an effort to murder me gangsta style.

It’s more this feeling of emotional nudity, this vulnerability, where if I leave my safe bubble, I am on display, painted with targets, and at risk for…emotional ahhilation? Complete mental break? Yesterday I was forced out of my cocoon and every moment I could think of nothing more than wanting to get back home to safety, to the comforting embrace of binge watching Dexter. I made efforts to remain off the radar and that failed so I ended up running errands for my stepmom which entailed a trip to Hellmart-my nemesis. Then Aldi, which the parking lot alone gives me panic attacks, there’s just too many cars and people moving in too many different directions and I can’t keep my head on enough of a swivel and my attention span locked down. It’s terrifying. And humiliating because for fuck’s sake, I am a bad ass who alienates men by being too harsh for their psyches yet I’m also some shrinking violet freaked out to leave my own home and carry out basic errands?

Well, depression and anxiety are definitely contradictions and I have them in spades.

Today I need to clean the biohazard house. But I can’t stand to look at it so I remain ensconced in my safe bedroom crypt, lost in Dexter’s world, where even the monster has more of a conscience than the creature I chose as my child’s father…Yeah still no movement on that one, the lawyer is useless, the donor strives to be useless, and the court system totally screws over an innocent 9 year old girl who they’re supposed to protect.

When I get that kind of fury bubbling inside me, those are the moments I connect most to shows like Dexter. Is it so bad to rid the world of scum sucking ass trashers who escape the system time after time?Morally and legally, my tether on reality remains strong. Of course, playing judge, jury, and executioner is wrong. But if it brings me a modicum of comfort and it’s just fictional…I’d call it therapeutic AF.

We got a donation to our fundraiser which completely surprised but delighted me because it was coming down to keeping my car insurance active (which the law requires) or keeping the water turned on…This wonderful generous person really made a difference in a positive way for Spook and I. And we’re not out of the woods what with holidays and winter heating bills and hey, I can’t even qualify to work as a gas station cos of my numerical dyslexia cos I failed the basic math test with inverted numbers…So, yeah. If you’re feeling kindness in your heart and generous…consider us a worthy cause. The elections are over but hey, you can still elect to help us. Gift card, social media share, or just ask for a list of things we need to tide us over.

I can’t seem to get going today. I am feeling unsafe ‘deer in the headlights’ right now and I can’t shake it off. I am trying. I am trying to have gratitude for what we do have, I am trying to have wisdom to accept what I can’t change, yada yada…Trying so hard. Depression is a cold hearted bitch, though.Zero fucks given how hard you’re trying or how you fantasize only about sleep or simply never waking up so you don’t have to feel depressed and anxious and unsafe anymore…

Also looming overhead is my car has to go into the shop Friday for a belt replacement and oil change so I have no idea how long I will be without a car. Plus side, my stepmonster offered to schedule it and pay for it because she knows I get $800 a mont for rent, power, gas, water, food-there isnt a spare penny to be found so it’s not like I don’t want to handle my own auto maintenance but….not like the donor left me much choice. I’m already sweating bullets cos Spook is down to 3 pairs of pants that still fit her so I have to keep doing laundry to rotate them for her and every day she is asking for something new that I can’t get for her and….

Really, fictional serial killers makes me feel less shitty than knowing how much I am letting down my kid here. I wonder if the donor feels any guilt.What a joke. I guess that’s why he was so amused by my what he called ‘Jewish guilt” where I flogged myself even for cutting someone off in traffic. I truly felt bad and he just laughed at me, said I was going overboard. Yes, well, having a conscience is a terrible trait in a human. Oh, no it’s not.


A fellow blogger has inspired me to focus even the tiniest bit on what I am grateful for in spite of how effed up life is..
My cats.
My kid.
Warm socks.
Acts of kindness like a donation or stepmom paying to make sure our car is serviced and safe for the winter.
Oh, and this dude from youtube who I have been promoting all over the place cos he’s talented and funny and even made a Die Antwood song not suck by metaling it the fuck up. Check out Leo.

And FYI, I’d totally dress up like Jigglypuff and rock out with Pikachu. Just sayin’.

Back to my safe fictional place. Even the serial killer has a heart for his stepkids and his own child all the while hacking people to pieces. That shouldn’t impress me as much as it does but…I guess I’m a sucker for people who don’t ditch out on their kids.

Gargantuan Intentions, Miniscule Accomplishments

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , , , , on October 21, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Tonight’s soundtrack has been a grab bag of everything from Kane Roberts to Skid Row to Barry Manilow (‘Read ’em and weep, Jim Steinman, same dude who wrote Total Eclipse Of The Heart!!!!! Good song is a good song, shallow people!)Now I have returned to my current ‘harsh heavy metal’ kick including Falling In Reverse and Icon For Hire. Give it a listen if metal is your flavor. Onto a band my sis suggested but um…not doing it for me yet. My ADD means if it you don’t piss me off, annoy me, offend, or make my blood sing in my veins means…um NOPE. Sorry, sis, this band ain’t doing it for me.Moving on… (Check out Like A Storm “Love the way you hate me’, awesome song!!!”

I am kid free as she is at my super social sister’s with others in costume, carving punkins and all that crap I am too exhausted and unskilled to do. My dad bought us two punkins but I plan on using plastic externals to decorate one and the other I am just gonna have barfing punkin guts into like a beer can or something. I had one of my rare ‘wanna chat’ moods earlier but everyone is tired or busy so that was a bucket of fail. I TRIED. I guess I am just that dull but honestly, I can’t make up shit. I’m trying to keep week old kittens alive with no mama cat cos my females are bitches and I am honestly exhausted, plus the seasonal has my kid thinking darkness at 7 p.m. means bedtime so she is up at 5 a.m. every day whereas I’m just getting to sleep….

This is why I’ve not posted in awhile (day or two). I must have 6 drafts where I tried but couldn’t sort my thoughts so I said nope.

Good things- we got several generous donations that allow us to keep on the power and water and put gas in the car, etc.

Bad things: 4 of our kittens died, my ass trash lawyer who I had to call informed me the donor got fired from yet another job and is only doing occasional day labor so…no child support any time soon. And I kid you not, MY lawyer went to the donor’s door and spent more time talking to him than he has to me in 3 years. Poor donor got fired again, poor donor has no income, poor donor has his phone turned off and can only get messages now through his gf’s phone number…Yet he still has an apartment and the lights are on and his car is legal and has gas but he can’t spare 50 cents to send his kid a birthday card? All the while ‘my’ ash trash lawyer keeps making excuses and saying the donor has all these visitation rights even after 7 years plus being unemployed means he doesn’t have to sign the legal papers any time soon…GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHh.

If a divorce lawyer willing to do pro bono work on principle (I know, ha ha, not likely) against a chronic deadbeat who has ditched out on 3 kids…Let me know. I’d like to take this man to the cleaners (not that he has much) on behalf of my child, plus his other two kids with two different women he bailed on ‘cos they were psychos who terrorized him and only wanted his money yet were fit enough to raise his kids. WTF?

Seasonal affective is dragging me under. I was all set for Halloween (as I am every October) but now the weather extremes are going from 60 down to 29 overnight and it takes a toll, even if my doctors don’t grasp it. I accomplish a little, and then everything else…FAIL. It doesn’t matter how much I want to make it happen. My brain won’t get on board. It’s scrambled eggs and popping lottery numbers but even with a diagnosis and insurance, I can’t afford the meds needed cos adults aren’t allowed to be ADD, and even the OTC supplement my shrink suggested is close to $60 a month…I kinda feel trapped, which does of course, sound snotty and ungrateful cos so many don’t have insurance but…is what it is.

(FYI, I am revisiting my adolescence listening to Duran Duran’s live album Arena and “Careless Memories”..just saying..some things I stand by, even if others think it’s lame. This is the music that made my blood pulsate in my veins when I was young and desolate and had no hope on the horizon, so it earned my loyalty…Okay, onto Janet Jackson’s ‘Black Cat’, have even HEARD the guitar riff???Metal as fuck!!!!)

I already forgot the point of this post.

I meant to like totally take the house from a biohazard clutter mess from level 5 to at least a 2, but…big dreams and hopes mean shit when battling pms, sinus drainage, and seasonal depression as well as an ear ache, heatburn, and pretzel gut. I am perfectly healthy until…stress and depression strike. Then it’s down, down, gutter, rabbit hole, and lower.

I know as an overwhelmed mom running on little rest and lots of stress I need this break. And my kid needs her other family members and a good time but..I can’t help but feel I am shirking responsibility and being selfish wanting a break. I know it’s not logic. But it’s real for me.

(Michael Jackson’s “Dirty Diana” now cos um, GUITAR RIFF!!!! And whatever his flaws and perversions, he was a great talent cos face it partisan or not, whatever political candidate you favor has skeletons banging in their closets but…no badass guitar riffs so RIP Michael.)

10:16 p.m. Wow, I am usually waking from my first round of allergy pills and melatonin by now. I used to be a night owl. Now I am…sleep deprived to a dangerous degree and every day feels so long and stressful bedtime is my only relief. Even if I am up every 2 hours.

I see the shrink this week. I have been uber stubborn and resisted but I think this time I am gonna ask for Trazadone. I hate the damn hangovers but if I can control dose and still get up with my kid in the mornings…I might get 4 straight hours sleep. MIGHT.

So…um…yeah. I had big plans but got nothing done because as usual, the seasonal affective disorder blindsided me. Now Halloween seems like a bloody chore I don’t have energy for. I have a doctor appt, parent teacher conference, trick or treating, a day later the dance where I get to be her dad since the donor is so useless…I’m gonna be exhausted and on the edge of a breakdown by the end of all that.

The house feels empty without my kid, even if she’d be sawing logs right now. The cats aren’t being needy cos, hey, season change and weather extremes…I have blankies and stuffed animals (I DARE ANYONE TO SAY A FUCKING WORD ABOUT A 45 YEAR OLD WOMAN WHO SLEEPS WITH A STUFFED MIKE FROM MONSTERS INC, A T-REX, AND GRUMPY CAT!)

Okay, my laptop screen is failing and it keeps reminding me so I am stressing out and now I will sign off.

But hey if you’d like to help out with winter clothes for my kid or even a wish list Christmas item for her or me or the cats(just ask what)…Clicky link here.

I really am thinking a dirt nap sounds pretty good right about now but…I’m a fuckin’ princess and my blankies seem warmer than dirt so…depression loses tonight.

I don’t have enough middle fingers to tell the depression how I truly feel about it.


Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on October 10, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Quick post to say THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to those who donated today and were uber generous. Now I don’t have to choose between paying the water bill, insuring the car, and buying food for a week. Words just can’t speak how much it miss to Spook and I.

That being said…we are far from out of the woods and I hate the ‘needy bitch’ syndrome as much as the next person…If I didn’t have a kid, I probably wouldn’t be lobbying so hard on this fundraiser. But I found out today, through two different sources, that there are AMAZING DECENT PEOPLE OUT THERE and while, they may not know my daughter and me…they gave with their minds and hearts and…wow, just wow. YOU GUYS ROCK!

So until child support is restored…I am gonna keep pushing the fundraiser. If this offends you, well…you have free will to leave the page.

And while yes, my child is my primary focus…there is no financial aid here for pets so I am gonna post a pic of my beloved Godsmack doing her thing, giving me a facial with her scratcher pad cat tongue.

And we have 4 kittens about to be weaned so we need transitional wet food and kitten chow so if you wanna help out…you don’t even have to donate cash to the fund. Message me, I will show you a link to the page on that sells the cat food we need and the food the newbies need, you can send it directly to our address. Many places also offer e-giftcards sent to your email and we’re cool with that too. Asking for help isn’t easy, no matter what you may think. Spook and I are the proud but tortured owners of mega-consciences so if we’re asking for help which makes us feel worse self esteem wise…

We really need a HAND UP, not a hand out.

Consider it, please.

And now it is time for me to pull an old school Metallica and fade to black. For once, I wish the dreams would have a positive message instead of just reminding me of all my mistakes and how useless I am when I can’t even get work as a dogwalker.

OOOOOHHHH I made it past 10 p.m. before taking my knock out cocktail.

It has been a good day, indeed, courtesy of generous people, thoughtful people, humorous, people, and my own refusal to bend and break no matter what is crushing me.

Final awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww moment.

That is sleepy Miss Lacuna. And yes, she is named after the band Lacuna Coil.

Couldn’t you just O/D on her cuteness?