Archive for the bipolar depression Category

Under Siege by Consciousness

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , , , , , on October 8, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

2:46 a.m. I am awake for the third time since I first zonked out between the last episode of Munsters, so it was before 9 p.m. but I was up again at 10:30, then midnight, and again at 1:30. Since I did not do my entire cocktail I am not finding it easy to get back to, and stay, asleep, but my kid is off school today so I can’t really risk over sedation and being unable to wake up. But as this is annoying, I just took another 6mg melatonin, 50 mg Atrax, and 1mg Xanax. Because I spent all of Sunday, spent and watching the clock til bedtime, and I am pissed off that I can’t just stay asleep and wake up rested.

I have another Matchbox 20 song stuck in my head, which is pretty common when I am awake at this hour, nearing 3 a.m. “It’s 3 a.m., I must be lonely.”

Except I’m not lonely. I have cats galore grooming me with face licking and Freddy Krueger facial claw massages. Those are the calm ones not knocking shit over as they pillage and plunder. They are all feeling the change in season and weather and acting like psychos to a degree. I bet the vet would take a line out of my shrinks’ book and advise I spend a hundred bucks on a sun light to aid the cats with their seasonal issues. Pfft.

I endured a little NCIS: New Orleans but I couldn’t determine what were simply bad accents, bad acting, or my ignorance of New Orleans culture so I didn’t enjoy it, it just annoyed me. Then came the realization that there is nothing on free TV channels this late so I put an old Favorite in the VCR. Under Siege. It’s really the only Seagal movie I like but I credit a lot of that to Tommy Lee Jones, one my fave ever actors, he’s awesome in everything even as bad guys. Hopefully I can drift back to sleep with the movie as my soundtrack, I find comfort in bombarding myself at bedtime with stuff I’ve watched ad nauseum, so it becomes soothing as opposed to stimulating.

In trying not to end up over sedated and skipping that Atrax earlier, I am paying for it as my histamines are in an uproar and my skin itches in a thousand spots, which is maddening.

This goes back to the happy medium dream that I can never seem to acchieve and it is not lack of desire or lack of trying.

We’re alternating between warm and cold, dry, rainy, sunny, and gloomy weather now and it’s messing with my head, big time. I want gloom and get sunlight scorching my retinas. I need sunlight to boost my mood and get blackened day skies with torrential downpours and cold.

And now I have become preoccupied with my future plans but am finding my desire hampered by frustration that I cannot, alone, bring that dream to fruition. But it is what I want to do. And I’d be damn good at it. My stepmonster took me to our Armpit ‘antique/indoor sale’ the other day and bought me a few things in an effort to cheer my up since everyone buys so much for Spook but I do without even though I love yard sales cos I put my kid first. And it was a walk down memory lane, as my grandmother owned a similar consignment shop up til I was 11 or so. Some of my happiest memories were wandering that old shop and piling on old costume jewelry and bright scarves and letting my imagination run wild with fantasies of being a famous actress or whatever. (My dad called me Gypsy Rose Lee, which I later came to realize isn’t all that appropriate a nickname for a 9,10 year old.) But I commented aloud, “I wish I could own a place like this and do this for the rest of my life.” One of the owners pointed out that the building was for sale and my stepmonster said, “If I had that kind of money, I’d buy it in a heartbeat and put Niki in charge.”

My family believes in me, sort of, they just aren’t well off enough to help. Still, them recognizing that I’d be good at acquiring goods and could run a successful business…it counts for something.

Short of being a roadie for Motionless In White (with my kid and cats in tow), I think the resell gig would be my dream job. Though I;d be content with working from home via computer doing whatever pays the bills and keeps my kid in what she needs. Unfortunately, no one is knocking down doors offering opportunities to do such work.

3:04 a.m. Sorry, Rob Thomas, and Matchbox 20. I’m still not lonely. Hungry, yes, but far too lazy to bother to feed myself. I will just watch Seagal kick some terrorist ass and wait for the combo to kick in and let me sleep a little longer. Oh, and is it arrested development or just staunch fashion taste that makes me still totally want that studded leather jacket bad guy Tommy Lee Jones wore in this movie?

Fashion taste. Leather and studs are timeless. WANT. That. Jacket.

Hopefully when I do go back to sleep I won’t be plagued with more vivid dreams. Such bizarre dreams that feel so real. Like driving a big rig (I can’t even drive a stick shift car) but my eyes won’t open, as if glued shut, and I can’t see the road and…BREATHE. Man, nightmares are bad, but sometimes it’s the dreams that are realistic that get you worst. I doubt I will sink to the bottom in a Titanic-esque boat but not being able to see while driving…that could totally happen.

Think I like the drowning scenario better. Least Titanic went down with lots of interesting scenery in tact.

Yeah, I know. My brain ain’t right. But you gotta love its quirkiness. It’s like one of those water rides underground where you don’t know what’s coming up in the darkness. Could be killer clowns, could be an adorable animatronic tiger cub…

Welcome to my nightmare. (Yep, had to throw in Alice Cooper lest I get saddled with a light rock label just cos I like some Matchbox 20.)

That’d be awful, like being labeled Republican or Democrat or, egad, a Juggalo.

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Where the F%#* is My Happy Medium?

Posted in bipolar depression, mental health blog with tags , , , , , , , on October 1, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Yeah, yeah, I’m like The Princess and The Pea and Goldilocks rolled into one mentally fucked up package. Nothing is ever ‘just right’. But is it so awful to want a happy mental medium space?

Much as I enjoy the sleep-and needed it, even though last night was another stop, toss, turn, wake, repeat in spite of the cocktail (pills)…I do not like the morning after grog. I hit snooze six times. I snapped at my kid and didn’t pack her lunch cos she pissed me off and I was just sooo groggy…My check didn’t deposit. I’m groggy, did I mention that? And I don’t like trying to function from within the grog. This was supposed to be my happy day to start decorating outside for Halloween. Instead I am binge watching the first season of Last Man Standing and trying not to lay down cos I am just soo weighted down with The Grog.

On top of the grog is the whirlwhind of crap coming at me this week. I opened my stupid mouth that I might have a yard sale for “city wide” this weekend (420 people is a city, really???) and my dad hijacked it, so I have to get everything ready then haul it to their house and motherfucker, I don’t even have anything that will amount to more than some quarters so it will be more hassle and work than it’s worth. Except for the fact he’s got some stuff to sell and he offered to let me and my brother split whatever sales and I got a kid to feed so…But I can’t do shit until my check comes so I can buy a dollar roll of masking tape to price stuff so I am stuck on hold. I’m always up in arms when my check is late cos I like when it comes on the last day of the month and I can actually say I paid bills ahead of time. Every other month it deposits the 30th31rst,or 1rst. Here it is the first and I got nothing. Which means more effort trying to convince my self it will come in, the sky is not falling…

I guess since I flew a little high mood and energy wise over the weekend this is my ‘splat’. Focused on the bad, unable to pick out the good things, drained, feeling hungover from the sleep cocktail when in fact it was likely the anxiety causing the sleep and wake interruptions that has me so tired…

A happy medium is just what I want. No extremes (which between bipolar disorder and a moody 9 year old, ha ha, who am I kidding). But…this is my reality.And the high could be all the medication changes and withdrawals cos I couldn’t get refills and it could be a precursor to seasonal affective depression kicking my ass…I have no balance, no equilibrium, no clarity. It’s maddening. But I am gonna try to stay positive.If I can keep my eyes open and stop being pissed off that sleepy as I am, I can’t seem to nod off again. My brain sucks.

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Hey, Bipolar Anxiety- You’re A Nag

Posted in anxiety disorders, bipolar depression with tags , , , on October 1, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Had a good mental health day, accomplished some stuff, didn’t feel like drinking bleach or putting my kid in a dog kennel…

But now she’s asleep and it’s only 7:36 at night but my stupid brain has started nagging me. It’s the bipolar anxiety. Reminding me I have to be up early with her in the morning. My check should come but then again, nothing is going right. What if I take my little sleepy combo and it knocks me out too fast? I’d like to bathe while I have the energy and half ass motivation…But then again, what if I wait to take it and then I have a hard time getting up with her come daylight cos it takes so long to kick in? It’s almost 8 p.m. oh no I should be asleep by now or at least in bed watching TV….

Round and round scumbag brain goes with thoughts I try to squash down yet they…just stomp my ass instead. So, scumbag thoughts caused by mental health impairments…this song’s for you.

And don’t forget (please) to visit our fundraiser page and share it with others. Christmas is coming up and this loss of income through someone else’s actions really puts us in a tough spot. Oh, and Spook informed me she wants to be a Minecraft character for Halloween and the costume is $20 so…just a share is great, a donation is awesome. And again, read past posts since I put this blog up in 2011 when the donor abandoned us. We’re not scam artists, our story never deviates from facts. If you’re in a giving spirit, we’re a pretty decent cause.

We took in a pregnant cat so she wouldn’t be condemned to the pound (before the loss of income) so honestly, we’re not bad people. We like to pay it forward in whatever way we can. Please think about it, at least.

I’ll send you a plastic spork as a door prize. 😉

Politically (IN)Correct Thoughts

Posted in anxiety disorders, bipolar depression with tags , , , , , , , on September 12, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

***Potentially triggering topics and unpopular opinions with politically incorrect views, avoid if you’re not wearing your big person underpants, author is not responsible for any wedgies this post may cause.****

This post *will* include its mainstay mental health topics but first…some personal ranting on topics near and dear to me.

I try to avoid spouting off on hot button issues like religion and politics. Frankly, none of these things have a place in my corner of my world. I am not democrat, republican, Baptist, Catholic.I am just…me. Labels bore me and the world’s obsession with labeling everything bores me even more. Suffice it to say, spouting off on topics that are triggering might land me stuck with more icky labels but I’ve been repressing what some might consider ‘controversial’ topics to avoid such grotesqueness. We are the land of free speech so I am disgusted by how easily someone can type out a string of text meant to be sarcastic/joking/thoughtless that suddenly becomes hateful and basically costs them their career and turns them into a pariah. Which in this day and age is viable on any topic at any moment, even something as asinine as feeding your kids box mac and cheese cos omg, the toxic artificial dyes…Kill too slowly if you’re a dumbass. Oops, there goes my TV deal for I have been offensive with my insensitive humor.

Yes, I am talking about Roseanne, and I don’t need to like the woman to have enjoyed her show, original and reboot, and I recently binged it all and ya know what? It’s like we have de-evolved since the late 80’s-early 90’s run of Roseanne, because that show was rude at times, offensive, it tackled hot button topics (in which the characters eventually opened their minds and evolved) and made fun of itself constantly and PEOPLE LOVED IT…But hey, one idiotic Tweet from the star and bam, the world goes bonkers, she’s a raging racist, she’s the devil, she must be banished completely. OVER A FUCKING IDIOTIC TWEET. Please understand, I do not know Roseanne Barr. Her newfound politics are at odds with my own beliefs, and I do think based on her own self presentation, she’s kind of unlikeable and Ambien or not, intentional or not, probably did throw out that cruel Tweet that started the melee based on some ignorant personal bias. Perhaps she got what she deserved. Yet our own commander in chief hourly hurls insults at everyone and everything and yet…he still his job. Politically correct or incorrect, it’s too stupid to even comprehend. Not like Roseanne had the launch codes to nuke city thus posing imminent threat to all. But the one who can access that and is renowed for whiplash mood swings and knee jerk behavior has access and still has his job.

How are people not thinking about this logically?

I’m the first to admit with my bipolar depression and crippling anxiety that logic is not always a friend by my side. I can have knee jerk reactions, overreact, I get flustered and fight or flight kicks in so I lash out with sarcasm, macabre humor, and more vitriole than is called for. I am this about myself, which is why a few years back, I put myself in ‘time out’ on matters that get me riled. My general rule is if it’s still bothering me 48 hours later after I have calmed down and the mood tides have changed…then it’s a legit problem to be handled. If it’s vanished from my mental space or seems pfft, what was the big deal…Then I can differentiate between being overreactive and being properly reactive. It’s been a good system for me. Which is why I have dozens of draft posts saved because I am pretty passionate to begin with, before my wonky brain chemicals chime in. I think I have only ever ‘reanimated’ 3 out of dozens of drafts because once I gave myself the cooling off period…I could see more clearly. The problem with that is that real life rarely gives you the option for self imposed time out to cool your jets so sometimes, bipolar people are slapped with nasty labels they really didn’t deserve.

Don’t get me started on the impact political correctness has made on our ability to use humor, or even slang, as a coping mecahnism. Or yeah, let’s do get me started on that. That and how in our collective lack of wisdom as a people we have started to taint and villify words that have multiple definitions but for whatever reason, only the bad ones are deemed relevant therefore use of these words is insensitive, rude, politically incorrect, etc.I won’t link to the post that kind of sparked that one for me because the writer is very fair with valid views and a wonderful way of expressing those views. But learning that by my occasional use of words like ‘retarded’ or ‘stalking’, I am no longer using the dictionary properly and I am being insensitive and well, a dick. I disagree with this, but I guess that’s the sort of thing of an insensitive dick-ish person would do. Still, and YES, I did consult the dictionary for the multiple definitions and usages of the suddenly offensive words, and there’s no legal precedent in a dictionary declaring using these words is politically incorrect or offensive. But we are no longer a society who deals in truths, facts, or ponders intent before we start black balling people and getting our ruffles feathered. All I can say is, I TRY to be sensitive and I do not take things such a crimes of stalking or cruelty of calling developmentally delayed people retared as jokes. So the next time I am outside with my kid and our cats are slithering through the long blades of grass chasing bugs or whatever and I do my ‘wild kingdom’ voiceover that makes me kid laugh…I am still probably going to say, “The striped feline lies in wait as its prey approaches, closer, then moves away and the feline stalks along behind….”

It’s not so much as get a joke. It’s more like ‘use a dictionary and learn the multiple uses of these words that are not always deragatory nor criminal therefore people who use them are not always insensitive louts making fun of very serious topics’. Tyvm.

Politics…I started Binge watching an old one season run “Commander In Chief” with Geena Davis and aligned with my prior viewership of Scandal and Madame Secretary…What TV is teaching me (my meds rotted my brain already, pfft, tv has now power over my swiss cheese gelatinous brain dwelling organ) and….If I do decide to break a 25 year streak of avoiding voting booths and vote this year…I find I relate more to independents than to R or D. Politicians are just vile self serving creatures with no scruples and zero conscience. And it’s this inability to side with those with decent values and a conscience is a stumbling block for me. I don’t need to agree 100% with their views but I often find myself in 99% disagreement with both sides (even if my current views lean left, that’s cos they labeled it, I didn’t.)

In memorium of 9/11…

I have memory troubles. I don’t remember much beyond my child’s birth or when I got to go see Skid Row and Pantera when I was a teenager.ONE THING I have never forgotten, though, is where I was when the planes hit the twin towers. I was supposed to go to a crappy part time cleaning job that day and I suck at cleaning so I was about to be fired anyway…But I turned on the news and I saw what was happening and I remainded glued there for hours and hours. I knew none of those people. Never been to New York. But I cried, and I cried, and I cried. Then I cried some more. I felt such agony and empathy. Wished I could do something, anything, to offer comfort to those waiting to hear if their loved ones made it out alive. I couldn’t take a phone call or answer my door, I was far too shaken and couldn’t stop crying. I was profoundly affected and my last thoughts were of terrorists or the economy. My every thought was with those lost in the tragedy, those who so bravely went into to find and recover victims, the families of those waiting to hear one way or another…all those husbands and wives and parents and children, friends…I didn’t know them. I had no real reason to go so overboard with my feelings. Except it was how I truly felt.

Yesterday, in an act of questioning myself and my current feelings, I listened to a call in Donald Trump did to a TV show back on 9/11. He may as well have been discussing his golf game, his tone was so flat, casual. Actually, his golf game would have gotten him more emotional. He wanted to talk about losing hundreds of friends that day (zero 9/11 funerals he attended) and oh, bummer, they shut down the wall street nasdaq bullshit but oh, hey, now with the twin towers gone, my building is the tallest…No emotion. Words mimicked to feign humanity and humility yet so false it was nauseating. A day that should have been about the victims, their families, our country…and he made it all about him.

17 years ago, before he was commander in chief.

So if my distaste for this man’s personality has lasted 30 years even long before he became president…I’m not being politically correct or incorrect. I am being honest.

And honestly, he’s in good company. I watched my daughter playing with her neighbor friend the other night and caught her bossing him around, yelling at him, the defying me and telling him what lie they were going to tell me about it…And she was just so mean and sounded so nasty and so selfish…all I could think is, “Thank God I don’t have to be her playmate.”

Some personalities rub you the wrong way and that’s not political.

So maybe sometimes I can’t trust my mood swing to operate safely and properly so I make poor choices or say dumb things.

On something that has plagued me nearly 2 years now, though, I finally have found clarity by looking back long before ‘fake news’ was a thing and hearing it from the horse’s mouth himself. Politics aren’t even relevant to this one. I just don’t like arrogant, narcissistic money whores whose ego are so massive they’d have to call in to a show on a devastating day in U.S. history to talk about himself.

17 years later I still remember sitting home in front of my tv with tears streaming down my face at the loss of life and all the broken families and broken hearts and absolute destruction…I don’t even always like people and i managed to have empathy and show sadness not for photo op or credit but because…

It’s the decent thing to do as a member of the human race.

And it comes naturally to you if you are decent. If not, well, you call in to a TV show and talk about yourself then get elected president, and live sleazily ever after while insulting your citizens daily and meanwhile, a woman who I might fight repugnant on some levels, actually found a way to make me laugh during the current climate..and YOU’RE FIRED.

I am not defending her, her words were awful, but seriously. If we’re going to hold an actress that accountable then our president should be in the unemployment line right along side of her. It’s not like she met with a military widow in mourning and said, “Your husband knew what he was signing up for.” No that act of offensive cruelty was done by….

If your eyes are open and you have a brain, you know what I am saying, incorrect as it might be.

For all those lost on 9/11…you are not forgotten. For the families and friends who lost you…you are not alone. You will forever be in the thoughts and prayers of those of us who have also not forgotten and never will. Time passes and life goes on…but memories are forever and American’s with good hearts also have long, good memories.

Tweet that. Wait, no, that’s kind of heartfelt and kind, that’d never fly.

Go see what the Kardashian West crew is doing, that’s about all the intellectual stimulation Twitter can handle.

<<<<<<<politically incorrect rude nasty woman says 'sorry not sorry'.

Hell Is Living With Depression and Incompetent Mental Health Care

Posted in anxiety disorders, bipolar depression, bipolar disorder with tags , , , , , on August 11, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Another night and not yet 7:45 p.m. and all I can think about is going to sleep. My mind has been a clusterfuck of activity today. I found out my brother in law, the not-worked-in-20-years-and-not-even-disabled stoner guy, had a friend use his influence to get him a high paying job at a factory. To Beavis’s credit (long story on that nickname) he did give up smoking dope for several months to pass the hair strand test but man…20 years without working, last job you did hold you got fired from and signed your final check ‘fuck you’, and somehow he gets in the door when there are hundreds of better candidates? His friend must have some pull. And I’m not jealous, I worked in that factory (until my disorders made me miss too much work and they let me go and will never rehire me), it’s mind numbingly dull work and a miserable place thanks to new owners. But when even the laziest (he won’t even mow the lawn, makes my sister do that) most unpleasant person can get a job like this…Let’s say it’s not doing my self esteem any favors. My nephew also just got hired at an oil change place, so I am officially the one non working person in the family thus…

What I keep reminding myself of is…I’m in no shape to work, no matter how much I may want to.

I was supposed to have an appointment Monday with the new practitioner. They called to cancel and tell me she can’t start til October and they have no one available til then. I made it clear I am NOT doing well but with no staff they can’t do anything about it. I was further horrified to learn my former shrink, my least favorite one, has taken over their inpatient program so even if I hit rock bottom and do have to go there…I will have to contend with a man who doesn’t think any medication beyond Zoloft, Lithium, and Klonopin belong on the psych drug formulary. They are all the same to him. He wouldn’t even take me off Zoloft when I became suicidal, him leaving made me happy. And he wasn’t a dick or anything, he was kind and seemed to care, he was just very narrow in his views and set in his ways.

So…by October, it will be 5 months without a doc or nurse or med change. Here I am ready for bed at before it’s dark out because consciousness is just too awful and…they can’t help me.

So of course everything is triggering me but since I went back on lithium in anticipation of lab work being ordered next week…I feel stuff but it’s like your teeth as Novacaine is wearing off. Distant, foggy, weird. I’m not happier. I’m just not screaming over every tiny thing. Because I am so damned numb and feel so far away I may as well be inside a hamster ball. Hate lithium. It has its use and its time, like during PMDD or when I am facing emotional triggers like court with the donor. But as a daily med…it makes me miserable.

Yesterday I decided to get ahead of dad darkening my door and mow the lawn myself. But I flooded the gas mower, could not get it to start. And I was in no mood for their insults about how I am too dumb to even work a mower so I used my old reel push mower. The property is enormous and I had to work in increments and it doesn’t cut as short as a gas mower but..I did the whole damn thing, even in the heat, getting dizzy and shaky because hey, that’s what happens on mood stabilizers when you’re overheating and sweating it all out. It was a little scary but I wanted to accomplish something, to be able to tell my dad no, you don’t need to bring your attitude, I did it…And those reel mowers take strength in arms and legs to push them, I worked my ass off, so much for their assessment that I am lazy. And ya know what? They saw and said, “I thought you said you mowed.”

Guess it’s good I’m in the lithium hamster ball or else I might have taken my kid’s baseball bat to their fucking skulls. I can’t win no matter how hard I try.

Today it’s been a chore just to refill ice cube trays. My mind is blank. Then it’s overfilled. The anxiety is manageable. Then it’s rioting. I’m lost. And furthermore, pissed off with myself because we’re almost out of food and I can’t do a damn thing about it til Tuesday. Kid is sick of ramen already. It’s been a battle feeding her all summer when usually she eats at school and isn’t here to snack all of the time. I thought I budgeted well but I didn’t take into account how much I spent on fresh fruits for her and how fast she ate them all. Now one would think my family might toss a couple bucks or even a $10 Walmart ecard my way for a few things like bread or whatever. Nope. “Come pick up a few things here, we have plenty.” Nope. And what was my biggest sin? Spluring on the fresh fruits so she’d eat that instead of cookies. Thankfully, only one more week til school starts so things will improve….Provided she doesn’t go around telling people she’s starving simply because the supply is low. We have turkey slices, tons of boxed mac and cheese, powdered milk, ramen…But scumbag brain is feeling sadistic today so it’s gonna keep reminding me there should be berries or melon in the fridge, a good mom would have budgeted better….I tried the food pantry but you can only go once every 3 months and I’m 3 weeks from meeting that. I suck, I suck, I suck.

I think that’s why I’m so disturbed by my family and their judgments. No one can be harder on me than I am on myself. I even feel guilty that I had to put the cats on Dollar store food they won’t eat and use that clay litter that doesn’t clump.

But we were worse off when the donor left and I didn’t feel this absolute desolation so whatever the Cymbalta was doing well…it stopped. And that was my fear all along, that and their staffing issues. I just had a feeling something like this was going to happen.

9 docs now since 2006. I have more consistency in the cashier who sells me gas for the car. That’s not even a joke, literally have more consistency with gas station employees. How can you ever learn to trust a professional if you’re always being shoved through a revolving door of them? They tell you stability and routine are important to managing bipolar, depression, and anxiety, but when your care is the most unstable thing in your life…where does that leave you?

And I can’t help but wonder how different life for me might be, just as far as focus goes, if the ass trash insurance company would pay for Focalin…I might be able to read a book or watch a movie with my kid without getting up ten times to wander and hell, I might be able to organize my clutter so the house looks better. I won’t know, though, since they won’t pay. My old psych center (now behavioral health) at least went out on a limb for us back in the 90’s before common meds like Prozac became generic and you had no insurance. They’d hook you up with the manufacturer, the meds would be sent to the center, and every month you’d go in for your supply. I didn’t appreciate how much they helped until, well, it ceased to be that place I knew and merged with another place and morphed into…whatever it is now. A behavioral health center. My behavior isn’t the problem, it’s my ass trash family that’s the biggest problem, so why am I the one always getting the counseling?

Anyway…that’s my mental vomit for today. Ten after eight, woo hoo, bedtime will be soon!!!!! A few hours without depression and self loathing, yayness! Man, nightmares trump your waking hours…It’s time for a shrink’s intervention. Yeah, yeah, put on my PJ’s, I am dreaming.

And as always….Spook’s school clothes fundraiser page.

Chicken Soup, Soul, Bad Spells

Posted in anxiety disorders, bipolar depression with tags , , , , , on June 1, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

I was gonna title this post Chicken Soup For The Soul During The Bad Times but then though, well, fuck, with copyright laws and everyone so libel and lawsuit happy, I might get sued…Plus, things haven’t been as bad, as far as the bipolar depression goes, the change in weather and Cymbalta have done sooo much good for that aspect of my disorder…so calling it ‘bad times’ is a misnomer and I try to be transparent and honest in this blog so…I went with the term ‘bad spells’.

The other day even with excess stressors and noise, I went hours and hours without even taking a smidgeon of Xanax. And it felt damned good, not hitting the pills to cope at every turn. And honestly, I personally don’t view it that way because for me, Xanax works to calm my brain and body in a purely positive way, there’s no copping a high or seeking a zone out or coma sleep. It just levels things in a good way, but thanks to a bunch of assholes who abuse the drug for purposes of getting high or avoiding reality, somehow I end up feeling like some junkie with a legal prescription, too weak and lazy to handle my anxiety on my own. And I know that’s bullshit, I am a badass, inasmuch as I do my best and try my hardest not to rely on the ‘fast fix’ of pills. But when something works, you use it. And while Tylenol helps for headaches and cramps for me and I take them IF needed, well, Xanax is the same.

Today was not a good day, anxiety wise, and I utilized my prescription and full doseage of Xanax, for the sake of sanity. It is a redunant theme in this blog, but it is my sincerest hope that by being transparent and yes, redundant about my battles on this front, that it might help one or two others experiencing the same realize…you are not alone. You’re not crazy or lazy or in this alone, at all.

Today’s major stressor that pushed me to the brink was my daughter’s little friend coming over for almost 3 hours. He’s a sweet little kid, but man, is he picky and if he so much as gets breathed on wrong, he bursts into tears and just starts sobbing I WANT MOMMY over and over. You can’t reason with him, calm him, he just goes on and on and on. And then I say, okay, well, let’s get you home to mommy, and he keeps repeating the want mommy mantra…then decides he doesn’t want to go home. And the constant hunger, inviting himself to eat then declaring what we’re having isn’t appealing to him, plus their bickering and he’s constantly getting minor booboos leading to big tears and the mommy mantra…And my kid is even more demanding and needy and MOM MOM MOM MOM MUM MOMMY MUM LOIS (yeah, she hates the Family Guy/Stewie comparison but if the animated shoe fits, prance around in it, baby) when she has a friend over… It’s so bad, I cannot get through a 21 minute show without pausing five times because she never…lets…up.

So, yeah, by the third time he got a booboo (by not listening to me when I said to calm down and not bounce on her bed), my sympathy was on life support, my nerves rubbed raw, and my tolerance maxed out. Once things returned to normal with just me and her and I managed to work up energy to cook supper…It was better but I still feel jarred and it’s like, geesh, can these people keep their kid home with them for just one bloody day? And then of course my own brain chimes in, asking what the hell kind of selfish mom monster would bar her kid from playing when there’s nothing else to do just because it exhausts me in every way…But, really, OTHER PARENTS WHO READ THIS!!! Please, please, chime in, I rarely ask for advice but on this one I could totally use some perspective and advice…How much playtime is fair for an 8 and 3/4 year old? How much time am I obligated to give her to my own detriment so I am being neither too selfish or too neurotic?

I took her to a child psychologist a couple of times over this problem and the professional’s advice when I asked her, “How much playtime is fair?” And she told me that Spook just requires a lot of stimulation and enjoys the company of others, so while she needs that, I have to draw the line where I see it as enough. And what the actual fuck, lady, when I’m basically crippled by bipolar depression, anxiety, and easily overloaded thus avoid too much social interaction? My idea of fair is playing twice a week if I am the one who always has to provide and fetch food, play referee, etc. My ENTIRE GOAL as a mom, though, is to not allow MY issues to place some sort of unhealthy limitation on her socialization and childhood. But yeah…I could use some advice if you know, someone would care enough to comment.

As for the chicken soup part…well, it’s little things. Like my freebie digital TV antenna pulling in, however briefly, a crime show channel called Escape and getting to watch the shows I love (Forensic Files, yess! Never mind that I have them all on digital file, without a desktop, I can’t run that loooong playlist, laptop overheats too easily.) And this morning, my kid gave me the chuckles when she declared a zombie virus outbreak in her dollhouse and put Giraffe in a biohazard zombie protective suit made out of a baggie…I saw a video on the news the other morning of a squirrel latched onto a spinning birdfeeder and damn, that fucker wasn’t letting go for anything until he finally went flying off. And then I get an email about a shelter pet who recovered from abuse and neglect and got their forever home…

These little things count for a lot with me, even if I seem to bitch and moan more than I mention it.

I must admit, the one ‘luxury’ soup I miss the most is being able to check books out from the library but that damn out of town resident $60 fee, it’s just not within our current budget means. I love reading. Paper and ink books are like…catnip for me. It nourishes my soul. So hell yeah, I miss it so much. Who knew the mere act of having a library card would become a luxury item by moving 8 miles out of town. One more thing living in Armpit has cost me.

Much as things have calmed down now that Spook is asleep…I have some rabid anxiety that the landlord will show up in the morning wanting his rent money. I get postal money orders using my debit card and of course, the post office here doesn’t accept debit cards and oh, it’s only open from 8-11:30 a.m. every day, and the local ATM charges me like $6 for cash withdrawals, I just prefer to go into town and do it. But since they bumped my shrink appt to 2:50 p.m. I can’t pay him before that without making two trips and I’m not gonna do that on a 90 degree day.

I’m also wary of my doc appt, who knows what mental state she will be in, considering her days there are coming to an end in JUly, she may have already mentally checked out on the patients and be non conducive to my thoughts on increasing Cymbalta…

I’ve started to ponder the whole borderline personality thing again, because as was pointed out, it does often coexist (comorbidity, is that the term?) with other disorders like bipolar. I know when it comes to relationships, I can totally go borderline but deep down, I just hate being tied down and like my alone time so it’s less true neediness and more PLEASE DO LET ME RUN YOU OFF. As for the mood swings…I’ve been doing pretty well on that front.Until the anxiety goes metastatic and then yeah, the bipolar depression is stirred. But having discussed the borderline topic with the counselor I saw for two years and her saying I have traits, but mostly bipolar symptoms…It’s not just that I want to believe her, it’s that I agree with her. Not because I want to to absolve myself of yet another negative label but because I see parallels but I also see them dissipate during stable periods, especially if I am not in a relationship juggling my emotions as well as someone else’s and their inability to handle my emotions.

IDK.

At least I am willing to recognize the traits even if I don’t agree that two appointments warrant completely changing my entire 20 year diagnosis by a newbie therapist.

It’s a shame, I always found therapy helpful but that woman, and knowing who else works there and how contrary her psych views are toward bipolar people…my only option isn’t an option. Not until I feel I can trust them to do more good than harm. It’s not an unwillingness to seek help. It’s the rural area, insurance, and system telling me, ‘this is your only option’ and I opt out to protect myself from further damage.

So I vent and flood post and it helps to purge the venom and racing thoughts and maybe on occasion…someone reads it and says, “THIS! Geesh, this chick gets how I feel, I’m not so alone!”

I never started this blog with the goal of likes or followers or even really readers. I kept journals for over 30 years on paper, didn’t start blogging til 2006 and only shared the link with two friends. This blogging thing was never about being popular or feeding my ego. I just know how alone I’ve felt all my life dealing with these issues and…

The thought that my rambling could help even ONE person feel less alone…well, that is the ultimate chicken soup for the soul.

The Engima That Is Rapid Cycling Bipolar Two Disorder

Posted in bipolar depression, mood swings with tags , , , , , on May 12, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

As if life isn’t hellish enough going through with mental disorders and psychological baggage, what is worse is when your disorders don’t fit neatly into their Douchebagger Simpleton Manual (DSM).

When my clinical depression lifts, I am prone to rapid cycling between lows, highs, and mediums. The professionals I have seen often dispute this as not being characteristic of whatever label they have slapped on me and it is very frustrating. I know from talking to others on the wordpress mental health blog circuit that rapid cycling is actually pretty common for some of us, often in part because the very antidepressants we need to pull us out of abyss can bring about rapid cycling in early treatment.

I LURVE (thank you, Sass, for that term, love is just getting boring cos everyone on the internet loves everything) my manic and hypomanic states. “Ten feet tall and bulletproof, OMG, I am bloody well cured now, let’s not sleep cos this feeling is awesome and I don’t need to pause at the end of sentences because my lungs are filled with sweet beautiful air to spare and while I didn’t accomplish much, I jumped into a kiddie pool and splashed around with my daughter and felt sooo free!”

Breath.

Two days I felt that way, just a few steps from full blown mania (yes, while not common in axis two bipolar, it DOES happen) but today…I am in medium mood territory. This is what I call ‘pre-splat’. The low is coming, I just don’t know when or how bad it will be or how long it will last. It doesn’t help that my PMDD (ten days of psm on steriods) has begun, wreaking havoc on an already wonky mental state, not to mention the physical misery. I usually let this shift send me into a tailspin but of course, my current self awareness and self help kick has forced me to take a step back and face facts: I have been here, done this, a thousand times before. It will pass. I will feel good again at some point.

This doesn’t negate the fact that it is maddening, frustrating, damaging.

But compared to where I was just 3 weeks ago pre Cymbalta- I’ll take rapid cycling. If it continues more than a couple of weeks, I will speak out at my next shrink appointment. Starting new meds is always challenging, at best, and filled with change. Not to mention just my cycle out of winter depression is often accompanied by rapid cycling (it amazes me how sensitivity to weather conditions can affect one’s mental health) so it may not be Cymbalta entirely. THIS current state is preferrable to where I was. My kid sure prefers me hypo, but then so did every man or friend I ever met, cos well, manic of most nature is happy fun ball time.

I wish I could be happy fun ball all the time. Being a depressive isn’t a life choice and it isn’t a good thing. But it is what it is. I deal. I rant, I vent, I soapbox, but acceptance has finally settled in. My disorders aren’t my identity, but they are also not something I can pretend away. Denial is not an option. So I must find a balance and fortfy myself to keep up this battle. My daughter is a good motivator. I’m not gonna do any ‘my uterus produced a kid, I am special” pompom waving but it doesn’t really matter if your motivation is your pet, your romantic partner, your family, your kid, your work. Whatever keeps you going (and that applies to non mentally disorded situations, as well) is your tether to reality, hold on to that until the rope frays and starts cutting into your flesh and you bleed. Never let that go.

So I will ride out the current medium mood, then I will roll with the low wherever it takes me, and like a phoenix, the mood will rise out of the ashes. Okay, that sounds more cheddar cheese than poetic but you get my drift.

Now instead of using that ‘f’ word involving dollar signs that seems to offend people…How about I use a “Please Read Our Story”.

I know sharing fundraisers on social media is often icky but clicking that share button costs you nothing. I’m not trying to raise thousands to buy happy fun ball stuff. I am offering up receipts. Our story may not be special and there may be way more worthy cause but…gotta try. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Just think of us as a pet you’d adopt if you liked pets. But maybe you know a friend of a friend who does and you just pass on word.

On occasion, I write a decent post so view it as being a patreon.

Spook and I are grateful for any help we get, and I appreciate it even when it’s a click of the like button or a comment. Gratitude is all I have to offer at this time other than my writing.

Gratitude doesn’t buy toilet paper, though and of course, I am raising a princess who finds that sort of thing necessary.