Archive for the biolar disorder Category

Well, THAT’S Different

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on June 17, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

So I have six or so drafts I just couldn’t post because when I read them, they were…discombobulated and more rant-y than usual. Let’s hope this one makes some semblance of sense.

I woke up this morning and for the first time in MONTHS…I actually didn’t feel doomed. That is a good thing because I was about ready to give up on Cymbalta. To not feel like dying during one of my kid’s numerous lice outbreaks…Cymbalta and Wellbutrin must be doing something positive. Whether it sticks or not remains to be seen. For today…I am functional and not wishing for death. HUGE improvement because Tuesday, I was semi suicidal.

Today, R called from out of town and asked if I’d meet a customer who needed to pick up their TV. I agreed. And good thing I did. The guy gave me ten bucks for little more than unlocking the door and plugging the TV in to show it works. That almost never happens, the people in this town barely want to pay to fix their stuff, let alone give extra for someone coming in on a Saturday.

After that, Spook and I went to two different stores. The “I Want” monster makes shopping with her a nightmare. I get so sick of saying no and yet after yesterday, she has it coming.

Yesterday, she smashed the tablet screen AND lied by trying to say the cats knocked it down. From hanging out at the shop, I know the difference between a dropped screen crack and when someone steps or sits on it. Now she is grounded for a week and I told her she gets $40 @ $1 a trip per store until she makes up for the $40 tablet she so carelessly smashed and then her lying.

The plan yesterday was for her to stay at my mom’s but finding a couple of nits in her hair quashed that. (Teach me to let two different kids sleep over.) We did the mayo and shower cap thing (I ALWAYS treat myself even if I’m not itchy because, hey, who is gonna check for me? My sis checked her hair three days before and found nothing but her scalp eczema, and I don’t fault my sister, nits are tiny and when mixed in with flaky scalp..damn hard to spot. Unfortunately, this is about the 15th time my kid has had lice.) I was also supposed to go to the shop yesterday to earn some smoke and cat good money but that got quashed, as well. I spent hours vacuuming and washing bedding and clothes and drying it all. Then I had to spend hours combing her hair and mine. NOT fun. I know, ecologically, even roaches serve a purpose, but do tell, anyone who knows…what purpose does head lice solve????

Today we used a flat iron since high heat kills nits, then we did more combing. My dad hauled off my old air conditioners since R helped install the newest one last week. (Such a pain, taking them out and putting them back in every year.) Then we went to the shop, then to two different stores for food, then home. Or did I say that already? My memory is so fubar these days and everyone says it’s just age, but I think, to some extent, it’s the stupid meds.

In an example of “I just don’t get it”…R got laid off and they said it could be weeks before he goes back, but fortunately he got more work in at the shop…But he had six grand to go blow on a “new” used car. WTF? If you’re crying hard times and making everyone feel bad for you, maybe you should go for a car less than six grand? But apparently, I’m just mean. Still, considering how I struggle with lack of money, it’s galling.

More galling…My kid told me the other day I need to get a job so she can go play at daycare. Not the first time she’s said it, but coming off of shark week…It wounded me. Now my hormones are leveled out and it’s like, whatever. At the time, though…I just wanted her to go live anywhere but here because, damn it, when I am menstrual, I am a weak wussified pansy.

Truth be known, of course, I would never send my kid away. She is exhausting and a handful but she is mine and she’s already had one parent walk out. Just, sometimes, she is so hurtful and unapologetic, I don’t feel so blessed, I feel…hurt.

Last week I did something that had me feeling shitty for a couple of days. It involved an friend with benefits, my bedtime meds, and one too many Mangoritas but…My kid was at mom’s, he was driving, and…Damn it, I’m entitled to occasionally let loose, right? It was a bad idea, though, because I have little memory after a certain point. And I want to blame the booze but the fact is…Some morning, even when I haven’t been drinking, I wake up with holes in my memory. Mixing both is A Bad Idea. Bad me. But for months I’ve been good, I’ve been responsible mommy, she was at grandma’s, I just…went a little overboard. Or a lot.

Her friends are driving me nuts. Even when told she has lice, they come knocking. When told she is grounded, they come knocking. Too much drama. My kid tells me I need more friends. Nope. I can barely handle the one or two I have. A little socializing goes a long way with me.

So that’s my confession/guilt/panxiety/depression/not feeling doomed story. Though story makes it sound like fiction. It’s just fact. It’s what happened.

Judge me if you want. I’m alive and kicking and for this day, (so far) I’m not finding life pointless. I’ll take it as a win.

Write Off

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on June 7, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

I read my last post and decided…no more posts after shoveling my night time pills. I become incoherent. Or too sleepy to bother making a coherent point.

Today has been one of those write off days. I functioned well enough for two days but it left me overdrawn at the psychological bank so today I was in a daze, no energy, no motivation. At one point, after day time meds, I got so sleepy I was literally counting hours on the clock til I can put my kid to sleep and get sleep myself. Then came one of my headaches induced by too much bright light and I had to lay down and cover my eyes…Spook was on youtube, so I guess I relaxed too much because ten seconds later, she’s telling me to wake up, how dare I fall asleep on her.

That’s always been an issue for me, meds that make me sleepy during the day. Because I know she will go tell grandma and make it sound like a constant thing and it’s the furthest from the truth. Drama llama don’t care.

I got some caffeine in me and am less lethargic. She finally found some friends to entertain her so she’s good.

Nothing to post, really. I just like tracking the crashes following my high functioning periods. Well, I don’t like tracking them, I feel it is necessary, same as tracking stable periods or manic periods.

It’s disheartening to say the least that my functionality maxes out at a couple of days then I have to have write off days just to regain equilibrium. Makes me feel so weak. But the write offs enable me to fight another day rather than melt down or implode.

Eternally Yours

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , , on June 6, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

*This music is not for the weak hearted*

Yeah, my sister introduced me to Motionless In White and initially, I thought it was too obnoxious and ‘satan channeling”. Hit those choruses, though, and well, the story changes. It’s kind of beautiful for those who like metal in the Slipknot/Mudvayne category. Also…I had no better title for this inane post.

Last night, I broke and agreed to let Spook’s friend Riley sleep over. MISTAKE. It was hot in here and within an hour the kid was screeching, “WORST SLEEPOVER EVER!.” Of course the twonks kept moving room from room so I had to move the fans repeatedly, then I had to text R about how to hook up a dvd player to a smart tv so the girls could watch dvds.

The kids weren’t bad. Riley, however, is defiant and mouthy and my kid is a sheeple so even when I said NO, they kept hammering at me. And true to her nature, my child can never own anything, it’s always someone else’s fault.

The mom told me her kid had been fed. Yet that 15 hour sleepover ended up costing me close to fifteen bucks cos the kid was constantly hungry and playing the “mommy gives me this” card. Then close to ten thirty she starts crying that she misses her mom and I pondered taking her home but…Ten minutes later given carrots and ranch, she stopped crying so I figured it was okay. (She told her mom today I wouldn’t let her go home.) Those girls were awake until 1:30 a.m. I try not to be a nag like my father was any time I had company, but at what point does patience wear thin? Finally they quieted and I nodded off.

Only to be wakened at 4:30 a.m. by my own kid bawling that he misses her mom and she doesn’t like sleeping with her friend cos her friend hogs the cover. (Rich coming from the extended knee pain inducing blanket swine herself.) It took a half hour to get her calmed and asleep. BY which point I was wide awake with racing thoughts so I took a .25 mg of Xanax an after ninety minutes nodded off…

Only to have Spook purposely sneak up on me and wake me in a way that set off my panic and had my heart pounding out of my chest. She’s been told a zillion times not to do that to me and yet, she had a friend, her audience, so she didn;t give a damn if it took me an hour to get calmed down. Cruel.

I fixed them egg and cheese omelets. Neither of them thanked me for a thing the whole night, jut made it clear I am a welcome mat for them to wipe their feet on.

Spook got mad when I sent her friend home at 10 a.m. this morning but my presence had been requested at the shop. So away the friend went, to grandma’s Spook went, and I went to the shop. Where I tried to be upbeat and supportive cos the new job and layoff have him in a tailspin. He made it clear he couldn’t even afford to buy me smokes. I still went and stayed almost 5 hours even though I did little but research the net for his problem child tvs.

3 o ‘clock I bailed because I wore if I had to hear him say “I fucked up taking that job” one more time, I was gonna get stabby. Much as I’d love to bash him…He wanted more stability than the shop, that other job offered it, then yanked the rug from under him with a layoff. It sucks and it’s dirty corporate pool but it’s not his fault. He listened to what others, as well as the bosses at the company itself, and they never mentioned lay offs. So how that is his fault is beyond me.

Had about 90 minutes alone in my home sweat box (if anyone wants to send us old fans, we’re not too proud to beg) then mom called and said Spook missed me and wanted to come home. TRanslated: she missed her demon friends. I fetched her. My wench sister insisted on showing me her new “Pennywise” t-shirt cos she knows I don’t like clowns.

Since then it has been fairly quiet. Riley stopped in a few times and when I told my kid no to questions, that girl was whispering in her ear encouraging Spook to nag me some more..LOts of demon spawns here.

Now, thankfully, at this hour, the humidity is lower, the temp is down, and I no longer feel I am marinating in my own sweat. Perhaps I can get some good sleep tonight. Spook is still mad at me cos I wouldn’t let her stay at Riley’s tonight, but with little sleep, my kid is a powderkeg an I’d prefer the other girl’s parents not judge my kid a psycho who can’t behave.

I faked the upbeat thing today. I cringed every time I heard a siren. I flinched when on uneven roads that convinced me I had a flat. My brain often gives the silent treatment unless someone has been raped or murdered. Not the way I want it it be but…

It is what you need at that time…Go with God.

Personally, I am gonna go with Adelitas Way “MY derailment.”

Such a good band if dumbass sheeple would stop listening to Kesha and Miley Virus.

Do I sound judgey and shit?

Good. I favor talent over tabloid pres and the beautiful people.

Maybe that is why I have less friends than my rude redneck family. But then, JUstin Bieber has a gazillion fans and um…sound of his voice makes nails on a chalkboard sound good.

If I can find worth in Lady Gaga and Katy Perry and N’Sync, even a couple of songs by Back Street Boys….

Bieber’s talent eludes me or I would totally give him credit.

The Curse Of Hypomaniac Brain

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on May 15, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

I woke before the alarm today and couldn’t get back to sleep but I remained in bed til a little after 7. Cursing scumbag brain for waking me so early, yet grateful that I had actually slept pretty well last night. First night in a long time I didn’t wake up multiple times and I just took my usual 2 mg Xanax, no sleep aides. Of course, I was pretty wiped as my gift from my daughter for Mother’s Day was being wakened at 6:30 a.m. while she got ready for church.The van doesn’t pick them up til 8:30. Thanks, Spook. Least she did remember it was Mother’s Day.

It wasn’t a bad weekend though my dad and his crew took my kid Saturday and Sunday. I didn’t mind Saturday so much, they took her to a carnival where the proceeds went to a local animal rescue. When they brought her back and Spook was carrying on about a ride she went on, I said, “That sounds fun, wish I could ride it.” And my lovely not legal stepmonster but 18 years with my idiot dad kind of makes her family…said, “Oh, your ass would never fit on the seat, mine barely did.”

UM HELLO? The woman isn’t happy unless insulting someone. Which considering she was more bullied in school than I was, I’d have thought she’d have compassion and empathy towards people with weight issues or whatever. Instead she has this distorted view of herself where she’s thinner than everyone around her. Fact is, she’s five foot four and over two hundred twenty pounds. Maybe I weigh more than her, but I am almost five foot eight and believe me…I wear the weight way better than her. Not to mention she wears her pants so tight they could be painted on and tucks her shirts in so her gut and jelly rolls are in your face. So for that beast to imply that I am fatter than her…Well, it was plain rude and not true. My sister is a size 16 and stepmonster even makes remarks about her weight fluctuations. The woman is delusional. She must have one of those fun house mirrors that makes her see something the rest of us don’t.

And my own father doesn’t defend me, he just piles on with my jokes about my fat ass. And people wonder why I have so little to do with that faction of family.

Sunday my kid spent 3 hours at church, then an hour later, they picked Spook up to take to my uncle’s to pet ponies or some shit. Which left me alone on Mother’s Day. They didn’t bring her back til almost seven. Every. Fucking. Mother’s. Day. And I just let them because Spook wants to go (and then she doesn’t, then she does, wtf). But I wrote a little, proofed some of my writing from 2013 (so much better than my current drivel, it’s like I was lobotomized between then and now.) I wasn’t lonely, just irked, and that could well be the PMS.

My mom and sister and nephew’s gf all wished me a Happy Mother’s day and gave me some gifts. Nothing major but they thought about me. Dad gave me a ten dollar gift card at the gas station. Not unappreciated, but he sends a pretty good message. “Niki never has gas in the car, so let’s give her a practical gift even though she mentioned they were low on food.” Brilliant.

So now that I have prattled about all that crap…Today.

My brain is hypomanic, but it’s the useless manic energy of the mind. I have accomplished nothing in spite of piled up dishes and unfolded laundry. Yet I converted some m4’s to mp3’s though it took 40 minutes because my scrambled brain kept pushing wrong buttons and forgetting to copy between net connected laptop and non connected desktop. It’s like I KNOW what I want to click and open and yet my fingers just click the wrong thing and I don’t realize it til after the fact. My brain is moving too fast, is the problem. Focus is not happening, evidenced by being on the third episode of Cold Case this morning and having watching about 1/4 of each. Background noise.

I like when the hypo energy gets shit done, like housework. Or writing. But when it’s just on a hamster wheel getting me nowhere and nothing done…I want to stab my brain with a really long spork. Bad brain, bad!

And the bullshit part is, the so called psych professionals think hypomania is MINOR compared to bipolar axis 1 full blown mania. IT IS NOT MINOR. Never knowing when your brain is going to spin out of control and become a tornado funnel cloud that doesn’t even throw things around productively or destructively…Not staying on topic, rambling…NOT MINOR. It is debilitating and everyone around me swears I am drunk or on drugs when I am this way. But I read other blogs and I know many of you are familiar with this hypo phase and just as frustrated.

So now I am gonna try to calm my brain down, one Xanax didn’t do it, maybe another will. Which will put me down to 1mg at bedtime, but sacrifices have to be made for survival. This spinning brain thing is disorientating to the degree I’d do anything to make it stop. Anything but listen to Justin Bieber music or wear clown shoes. We all have our limits.

The whiplash ride is over, please disembark to the left and have a nice day. Thanks for taking a ride on my bipolar coaster.

I Think I Have Given Up

Posted in biolar disorder, depression with tags , , , on May 7, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Much as I fancy myself a fighter and too much of a stubborn bitch to stop battling my brain demons…I honestly feel I have reached the point of giving up. The sun is out today, it’s not real cold, and still…I just don’t care to keep going. I want to die. Sounds ridiculous, right? Lovely depression has decided to ninja drop kick me because I thought it was all seasonal affect but…Not even an increase in Wellbutrin has helped. And now I don’t even get to see the doctor because I am not that urgently in need of help, I guess. Yeah, yeah, they’re booked solid blah blah it’s not all about me, the nurse practitioner can get your meds yada yada.

I don’t even want to bother going. This has been a pointless exercise since I was 20 years old. I am never going to be cured or fixed or ‘right in the head’. Please don’t mistake this with self pity. I don’t even like myself enough to pity myself. This could change at some point during the day or night or in a couple of days…But until it does this is where I am trapped.

Since R got his dream job and the shop is going to be his hobby, at least that major stress inducer will be no more. I have to give up cigarettes, boo fucking hoo. That’s what I put myself through it for, gas money, smokes, to buy things for my kid. It’s worth making sacrifices to be rid of the albatross. During my good mental states it wasn’t so grueling. During these down periods when I am barely staying afloat and placed in the position of helping a friend or failing them thus causing confrontation and tension which also makes me freak out…This has been hellish. I am ready to kiss it goodnight.

</strong Making matters worse is my phlegm in the chest problem has returned, allergies I think, and I can barely breathe but I am choking on the damn sinus drainage.

New kids moved in down the road so my daughter’s friend circle has tripled. They all play together so now I am dealing with 8 kids on any given day but thank pegacorn they prefer playing away from my place in a large patch of grass near the other kids’ homes. Of course, my kid is a drama llama and playing with more than one person means constant bickering and boo hoo my feelings got hurt. She thinks people not doing what she tells them to do or not agreeing with her equals bullying. I got my hands full with this little sociopath. And YES I can call her that because without years of social programming all kids are sociopaths and sadly, a lot of them just become adult sociopaths. One more thing I have to stress about failing at. But hey, she’s uber friendly to every single person, so maybe I can balance out the sociopathy fear with my terror that she’s gonna take candy from a stranger and get into their creepy van because she likes people.

I have some sick kittens, think they aren’t gonna make it. Cleo’s first litter and she is so petite I am wondering if having five maybe the bigger ones are taking all the milk so I have a couple of puny ones who aren’t thriving. Sick cats just take me back to when I lost Abby and my god, two years later I still tear up thinking about it. Funny how the brain doesn’t mind forgetting good stuff yet can never seem to let go of the bad.

The money issue is in play again as I realize all my fans are pretty much broken. In a tin box during heat, you gotta have fans because a window AC isn’t going to cover each room. Last box fan I used was acting funky but I said oh well, I’m too warm and next I know there’s a bad smell and the cord is brown. Maybe my dad is right, I am gonna die in this place. IDK.

It’s all just shit. Even my writing has gone to shit. I am still pushing boulders up hills but it’s garbage and I know it’s garbage. Prior to R pulling me into the dish for those friend favors, I was doing okay on the writing. Now…I’ve lost my flow and soon, I may not even have the garbage. Just in time for the summer with my kid home and all her friends asking for food when I can’t afford to feed my own. Stellar. Something to look forward to with out of control depression, right?

Whatever. I just needed to vent. I don’t see any good in my future, ever. I am living for my kid and cats, beyond that I am just…done. I have zero hope. I am filled with self loathing. Every tiny thing feels too difficult. Hell, I just went four days without a damned shower, how nasty is that. I took one this morning to shake off my grogginess but really, four fucking days. And my shrink said I was doing so much better but that was on THAT DAY AT THAT MINUTE. Now I am circling the drain and I get to see a fucking nurse. Thanks a lot, life. Fuck you.

This charming post was brought to you by the wonderfully dickbag symptoms of depression and is not really affiliated with the true beliefs of Morgueticia but unfortunately she is depression’s bitch right now and is going to write a lot of gruel, feel free to disregard.

The Term ‘Mood Enhancer’ Needs To Die In A Fire

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , , on May 2, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Today’s inane title stems from something I heard on a TV show weeks ago and it really pissed me off because calling anti-depressants mood enhancers is like calling cancer a ‘mild’ disease…JUST SAY NO. I have been shoveling the so called mood enhancers for oh so many years and guess what…mood. not. enhanced. At best, they keep me from garling bleach on some days. So whatever moron came up with the correlation between anti-depressant medications and the term ‘mood enhancer’ should be Z-Whacked. Not a thing, idgets.

And that completely random rant was brought to you by THE SUN ACTUALLY CAME OUT AND IT STOPPED RAINING TODAY SO I DON’T WANT TO DIE Morgue’s mind.

Yesterday it did not rain but it was gray and cold so that was bleach drinking territory, topped off with ‘money’s gone in the bank on the first every month for four months so let’s assume it will be there, OH FUCK IT ISN’T AND I AM OUT OF CIGARETTES, JUST KILL ME NOW, I AM A SELFISH AWFUL PERSON FOR THINKING THAT’ chaser. Deviation is evil. If you build a pattern for me and establish it, it should not deviate. EVER. It’s not just the boo hoo, I have to puff on an e-cig I used a coupon for and only spent a buck fifty…It’s how deviation plays with the mind of a bipolar depressive still stuck in the undertow of seasonal depression BECAUSE THE MIDWEST DOES NOT GRASP THAT IT IS FRICKIN’ SPRING AND SHOULD NOT BE 40 DEGREES OUT!

Sorry about all the CAPS yelling, bad netiquette, bad Morgue, but…I am a little hypo manic today. Not the irate “wanna choke you for existing” hypo, just the ‘thoughts racing a little too fast so let me speak rapidly and come off as a crazy person’ hypo mania. Which includes a lot of caps lock and seeming irrational and irate when in fact…

I am actually NOT murderous or even pissed off today. At all. Not even traffic made me scream and curse. I ran several errands and…it was okay. Why? Because it stopped raining and the sun came out and I am not wearing six layers of clothing. I even showered and it’s not yet 1 p.m. So mental health professionals who think a light is going to help seasonal affective disorder issues…Bite me. Not in a sexy way. If the weather is good, I do better. If the weather is shitty…the depression makes me its bitch, fancy sunlight simulating lamp or not.

I have even kept writing through all of this bad weather, even if I was maxing at 5 pages (counts double because I switched to single spacing, 1.5 spacing just seems puny to me even if editors frown upon it and ha ha ha, let’s be honest, I am never gonna submit this shit to someone who likely can’t write thus they edit and by edit I mean shred someone else’s heartfelt work. Except for Stephen King’s editor who still hasn’t taught the man a novel doesn’t have to be 900 plus pages to be good.) Maxing out on the parenthesis there, aren’t I? Whatevs. I digress. Still writing. Though the weather had such an abrupt negative impact on my mood I am fairly sure everything I’ve written for two weeks has been utter garbage and will embarrass me when I re-read it during a more solid mental space.

STILL WRITING. That is all that matters, creativity makes me want to stay up past 8 p.m. and sort of get up in the morning. I only have a few more weeks of spawn free daytime focus writing left before school is out so I want to treat it like an alcohol bender and get wasted off my ass. Does that make sense to non creative types? Or types who don’t smother their depression and anxiety with alcohol?

Meh. I would worry but I’ve had whiskey in the cabinet for weeks and not gone near it. Sometimes you want a drink, sometimes you wanna climb into the bottle or can, other times…you just don’t. I’d make a lousy alcoholic. And our local treatment center is being closed down so I probably shouldn’t take that as a challenge.

Are we having fun yet? My old counselors loved manic Morgue. They literally told me so repeatedly. They found me upbeat and funny and not even rapid fire switch and ADHD topic changes made them less amused. Too bad the idgets around me assume manic means drunk, they are missing out on semi happy fun ball me. Fuck ’em.

In other news, I hazarded a trip to Aldi yesterday and well fuck, ran into my dad’s crew. I tried to be all upbeat. My dad asked if the heat got fixed yet. Then got pissy because he offered me some old heaters and I turned them down because his auction buy heaters are always so old, they throw my breakers. Now the newer ones like the landlord loaned me during winter, not once was a breaker thrown. But because my dad is an assclown with a thick skull and zero logic, he told me my house is a fire hazard just because his old ancient heaters don’t agree with my place’s wiring. And there went upbeat and started neurotic, “He’s basically calling you a shit mom who is endangering her child because his antique junk isn’t rated for the trailer’s wiring.”

I so don’t give a fuck 99% of the time because my parents are nuts and critical and without reason. And when I lived alone and everything was broken, my dad didn’t care, literally, if I died in a fire. My uterus and other bits push out an adorable spawn, suddenly he cares. Fuck you, too, donor of sperm. Why I let them get to me I will never know. Every counselor ever who has talked to me or met my parents agrees…I may be chemically imbalanced but they have the personality issues and are actually pretty nasty toward me thus to be avoided. Stupid small town and its limited store options, bound to occasionally run into the asshats.

I thought that was the worst of my day. NOOOO. My kid comes home, I allow her to have ONE friend inside to play…I think okay, this kid is quiet and not demanding food so cool. Then I start smelling what I think is nail polish remover and ask Spook if she spilled some and she tells me no, absolutely not. I go into her room to put away laundry and all over table is a huge glob of silver nail polish she did indeed dump. I guess I overreacted because semantics, she didn’t spill remover, just the messy shiny polish itself. And then her little friend, in addition to not even saying thank you for the snack offered, left the open package on the couch with half the cookies remaining and crumbs all over the place.

I called it quits at that point, sent the kid home, and my kid started spazzing out when I tried to discipline her by grounding her from her friends a few days. I open my home, give my trust even when my mood isn’t great and once more I get stabbed in the back. Uncool. The piece de resistance for her was when she whipped out her church/religion logic on me because I agreed to let her attend Sundays as well as Wednesdays. Suddenly, I have ZERO parental authority because the church says so and she is going to tell them I won’t forgive her every tiny mistake like God does.

My one caveat to the church thing was for her to not preach to me and bam, she preaches at me. If they are teaching her that God dictates no consequences to poor behavior, I am being usurped by the bloody church and I don’t think she needs to go, she is obviously not old enough to grasp their message in a logical way. God may forgive your mistakes, but I’d like to think whatever deity there is (God, Budha, flying spaghetti monster) they all agree you shouldn’t be a dick and when you do dick things, you have to stop doing them to earn the forgiveness. I could be wrong but damn it infuriated to have a 7 year old tell me the church was going to chastise me for trying to teach her consequences to her actions. Like LYING, which while my grasp on religion is kind of loose, is a Bad Thing listed in the Bible.

Wow, so did not intend this to be a tirade. My bad.

Anyway…today’s not sucked so much.

On a final note…Oh, it soo would not be a Morgue post without some R bashing. I spent days looking for a part for him using every bloody search engine, every part and model number, every country’s sales sites…to no avail. I checked at 6 p.m. and came up snake eyes. He called me at 9:30 and informed me, snottily I might add, that he just found it on ebay. That tone that says ‘you didn’t even try.”

I bashed my head against the fucking wall over that damned part. And because he is such a moron he didn’t see the heading NEW LISTING! where it had been posted after the last time I searched…He cops an attitude like I didn’t put forth the effort. I never thought I would say it but I can’t wait til he fixes my car muffler and shuts down that place because I am tired of pegacorn hunting only for him to make me feel useless and stupid. A friend wouldn’t do that. Hell, I had bosses who wouldn’t even do that. And since wifey came back from her university job, he’s not once sent a text or called in which it did not involve me finding a part. Not a how are you and Spook, nothing but HIM HIM PARTS PARTS. Yet when I call him on it he turns the tables, essentially says I’ve got it all wrong, and makes me feel shittier.

Maybe it’s not always me being dysfunctional and moody that kills my friendships and the like. Novel idea…maybe some people are just cruel self absorbed cockweasels who aren’t worthy of my wonderfully quirky moodiness.

And on that, I leave you with a t-shirt I totally want.

“I can’t go to Hell until the devil has that restraining order lifted.”

Morgue…OUT.

(Spork of fortitude if you finished reading beyond halfway.)

Cure For HypoMania: The Weather

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , , on April 28, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

I have long mocked people, like me, from the midwest who spend way too much time prattling about the stupid weather. In my case with a seasonal affective disorder diagnosis attached to bipolar 2..The weather is actually very relevant from day to day. A month ago right before the first day of spring the weather went super sunny and all toasty warm and I felt CURED OF ALL DEPRESSION.

Ha, what a let down that always is.

Illinois has not gotten the memo yet that it is actually spring and thus it should be NOT in the forties and pouring every.single.damned.day. It’s like Seattle without interesting scenery, though as defeating as being in the place that vomited the grunge music scene onto the world. (Sorry, grunge fans, hate it with the intensity of a thousand burning suns) I don’t think it is just me with askew perceptions due to my desperation to escape the sooo looong winter depression thus I’ve forgotten this is “standard issue spring” for the area. No, I don’t recall it ever being this dismal and cold during late April. EVER.

But, Morgue, your brain is lithium riddled cottage cheese, you can’t remember to wear pants, let alone recall thirty plus spring seasons…

True that but still. It even effects my ability to write, ffs.I am not amused. I am in the dish today babysitting the shop while R is out of town helping his wife do something or other and this gray, cold rain has me ready to gargle razor blades with a Borax chaser. ‘Normal’ people find this weather a downer, so it stands to reason it would hobble someone who pretty lives in a solid depressive state sans 4 or 5 months during warm weather. (If the sun, moon, stars, and pegacorn horns align, that is.)

The prescription, for the seasonal diagnosis, at least, should be RELOCATE TO A PLACE WITH LESS SUCKY SEASONS.

But I am broke and my disability claim was granted in this shithole so I am stuck. That breeds crippling depression, knowing there’s something out there that could help, even if minimally, no big pharma or RX needed and…DENIED.

I think where I have always gone wrong in my thinking is, thinking I will be all cured leaving this stupid place because I just hate the whole area with every fiber of my being. (Honestly, when you’re driving down the street and break your neck to look, not at any men, but at a blood CAR, Camero or not, well, this place makes my brain feel like it is on life support.)

Leaving here won’t cure me. I am still going to be scorched earth hot mess but without all these ties to lousy inconsistent weather, I might have a chance of gaining equilibrium. Doc can pump me full of pharma candy, they can have me talk about my stupid feelings for a thousand years..

Does not change the weather here. No one and nothing can.

So I bob around in the depressive ocean barely keeping my head above water, and I’m too tired to keep going but my stupid mind and body keep working even though I am crying uncle…

Hard to feel anything but misery when that is your norm.

Ask me in 4 days when the forecast says the rain and gloom will be replaced, FOR ONE WHOLE DAY, with warmth and some sunlight. I might feel differently that day. Because my mental state is that tied into the stupid temperature, humidity, sunlight, etc. (And don’t think it doesn’t gall a vampire like me to have to admit sunshine is healthy for me, it really does make my head and eyes hurt but damn if it doesn’t help the mood.)

My only hope is that all of this miserable rain at least nourishes my mammoth rose bush in the yard and Monster (yes, her name is Monster) starts growing pretty for me again.

Pegacorn knows the rain has been nothing but toxic for my mental health and functionality, let there be some good come out of it.