Archive for the bipolar depression Category

Bounce Back…Sorta

Posted in anxiety, bipolar depression, depression with tags , , , , , , , on November 15, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

After yesterday’s grief ridden post, I got a text from a friend wanting to come over last night. Idk, I don’t much feel like socializing but then again, I so rarely get the opportunity for conversation with others than my kid, cats, and toxic family…I said yes, which gave me something to both stress about and look forward to. I boiled water so I could take a half ass bath and at least have clean hair and not reek. I boiled more water and did a pile of dishes I’d been neglecting. I swept and mopped the kitchen floor. I used the hell machine to vac the carpets. I cleaned the litter box. I buried my poor departed Pasha kitten and made him a grave marker. I did a load of laundry and hung it off curtain rods by heat registers in hopes it would dry properly that way. I gathered up all the trash out back so it’d be ready to my dad to pick it up. I got a lot accomplished, including a few episodes of True Blood. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to do any of it. I wanted to stay in bed and just feel sad, because…loss and grief are due a mourning process and I was very attached to Pasha.’

Guess the prospect of someone being in my home and judging me for even a mild state of disarray-reminding me once again how easily it all gets out of control…It kicked me into gear. I even made Sloppy Joes for supper, not that my kid appreciated a warm meal. Nope, she just wants chicken nuggets and strips and pizza rolls nuked in the microwave so I guess I cooked more for me. Because I do have that thing where I forget to feed myself for a day or two and like the shrink said, I need to start eating a little more properly if it will raise my blood pressure enough so I don’t feel cold all the time.

My kid came home and practiced her saxophone, they have a band concert next week. Talk about excrutiating to my sensitive noise issues. She practiced a whole 30 minutes then said her mouth hurt and it was cutting into her tablet time. Her dedication us underwhelming. But she is just starting so even if I want to wear noise canceling headphones (don’t own any, sadly), I am trying to be supportive and encouraging and compliment her on the effort to learn. I am (irrationally) irked about how widespread our dire financial circumstances are that everyone at the school knows about it. The band teacher offered to try and find a family we could car pool with or she could come get is herself and that is very nice. I can’t help but feel shitty about it, though. To not even have $20 to get gas and our med refills is pretty humiliating.

I looked into some work from home jobs from Indeed but I was doomed from the go because I don’t have the powerful computers required (nor reliable internet service) to even be considered. This laptop I am using has no mic or webcam or fancy software. I thought maybe if I could find a low stress safe zone the shrink might sign off on it for a few hours a week. I was so boosted to see legit postions until I saw their tech requirements. Apparently a 7 year old freebie laptop with half the functioning stuff not functioning ain’t gonna cut it. As if I stood a chance, anyway. And that is not negativity, it is based on the fact that even if I had the proper tech gear, I don’t have the education or background experience.

My kid was up, dressed, and cleaning her room at 6 a.m. I was battling lethary and since she was up and ready to go, I did something I never do. I stayed in bed til 7:20. And forgot to give her her pill (mom of the year). So far I have put on clean clothes, put some clean clothes away, and said a prayer that when R came over last night, he got our hot water fixed again. Now if I can just get stepmonster to install the kitchen faucet, we should be all set. Except for the fact that my bedroom has zero heat coming into it, think the bloody outdoor cats got down in the basement and fucked up the vent lines. Not like it matters, I am always cold, anyway. If I am not having hot flashes.

I need to go to town to turn in the heating assistance paperwork they have to have but…another trip to town, with only about 50 miles worth of gas left in the tank (it takes a gallon and half for every trip to town and each trip is 30 miles there and back) so I am gonna have to, ugh, see if dad can help me get gas in the car. Unlikely. I know if my mom had it she would give it to me, but alas, she does not have it. It amazes me how some people can go to multiple churches or whatever and get ten kinds of help but because I live in Bumfuck, there aren’t helpful organizations aplenty. Which is hilarious. Only thing Bumfuck has more of than bars and fast food is churches. And please do not mistake me for lazy or a whiner or looking for handouts constantly. The donor flaking out on the child support cut our income by almost $300 and that takes a toll. Til then we were managing okay. Leave it to him to ALWAYS flake out on support right around Christmas, seems to be his pattern. And he doesn’t even mail her a gift, not once in 8 years since he left. It breaks my heart because it Spook and there is just nothing I can do about it. The man is…useless. I try to tell her he loves her in his own way, much as he is able to considering his own upbringing by a drunken abusive father, bully siblings, and a dead father. If ay of that is true. He has some serious mommy/women issues, for sure. Abandoning 3 kids and yet he thinks he is well adjusted and a good man…Talk about denial and delusion.

But for today I may be crampy and listless but I am up and half ass functioning. That counts for something. And other than the mountain of laundry my daughter had stashed in her room, I am caught up on the housework. We have hot water and heat. Soon a working kitchen faucet. Gratitude for the small things. And the bracelet I found from months ago that is inscribed inside with ‘your anxiety is lying to you’. Now I just need one that says “depression is not your fault, your feelings matter”. Maybe if I look at it daily I will start to believe it and be able to blow off all the unsupportive toxic naysayers.

Maybe if I can get my mind out of the depressive/anxiety gutter I can seek out some sort of support group, an outlet or whatever. I want that so bad but I am just not ready. Yet. I am getting there. Slowly. Oh so sloooowly.

Baby steps.

Dyeing To Ramble

Posted in anxiety, bipolar depression, depression, S.A.D with tags , , , , , , , on November 5, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Not much new here. The days here in Armpit, USA seem to blend together, the monotany broken only by random events and changes in routine. Someone passed a counterfeit $20 at the gas station here awhile back, then a couple weeks ago, someone bought a Lotto ticket and won a million bucks. Lucky them. Yesterday was fairly uneventful, the housework slowly being whittled down to just getting winter bedding clean and dry while the weather during the day is warm enough to line dry them. God knows I have no money to hit the laundromat. My kid had her little friend over and he started touching all my stuff and washing things, which I suppose is part of him being on the autism spectrum, but it still kind of creeped me out. I do not like people who just come in and make themselves at home. I especially hate people touching MY stuff. I mean, why does a 13 year old boy need to be in the bathroom going through my bloody make up? Or touching my rack of shoes? And he leaves trash everywhere, then apologizes, but keeps doing it. It tests my patience but then again, so does my own kid. Still, I guess my old school age related upbringing is showing because we were taught not to ‘make ourselves at home’ in others’ homes without explicit permission. The kids these days just come in like they own the place, all of Spook’s friends have done this. I know it’s a new generation and all that but simple respect and courtesy should never go out of ‘fashion’.

The one accomplishment I made yesterday that I feel good about is kind of banal and frivolous but for the first time in 4 months…I colored my hair. I had the color this whole time but I had no energy to do it even if every time I saw how white my roots had gotten I felt ashamed. So I finally got that done. From silver roots:

To deep red

I should have used a blonde dye first to lighten it out so the red shows more vibrant but at least the granny roots are gone for about 4 weeks. And because I inherited my father’s dark hair, I have been battling gray roots since I was 20 years old so that isn’t age related, it’s junk DNA.

Oh that first pic was from Halloween. Spook and I were Medusa twins. She is an adorable snake lady.

I spent about $5 last month on the supplies for our costumes. Two black headbands and three bags of rubber snakes. That made the headbands and I just hot glued snakes to shirts we already had. Spook changed her mind on what she wanted to be so many times I finally said fuck it, we’re Medusa twins.

I’ve been doing stuff here and there with the hot glue gun since I sorted things out around the house and got semi organized and ya know, found the glue gun and glue sticks. We got our kitchen table and chairs given to us second hand by the landlord’s son and over the last year, the cats shredded the padding on the chairs.

Over time at yard sales I picked up some fabric remnants and this is what I did with the chairs. I love black velvet.

It is far from Martha Stewart homemaker perfect but I like it, it looks better and more my style.

I did not sleep well, but then again, I went to bed at 8 p.m. and I guess my system just can’t take more than a couple hours of sleep at a time. I woke probably seven times. Maddening but at least I only hit snooze once. And with the time change, it was light out which made getting up a little less demoralizing. My kid came out of the gate at 6:55, talking a mile a minute. She doesn’t take a breath, she just talks, and I am so sensitive to sound, it really wears my nerves down.

So imagine how surprised I was to find someone else’s blog post about hypervigilance and how it includes acute sensitivity to even common sounds. Do check out Tessa’s blog
I don’t have fibromyalgia myself, but with bipolar, depression, and anxiety, all the symptoms listed (almost all) really explain the tense red alert state I am find myself in perpetually. A direct link to the article itself can be found here..

I am slowly starting to feel little bits of joy here and there, though I doubt I have been on the new antidepressant combo long enough to attribute it to that. Maybe I am feeling more in control of my situation with the house in order and the furnace working, Idk. But yesterday I put all the cat toys in a basket and next thing I knew, all three kittens and their mama had every toy strewn across the kitchen, playing like mad hatters and it made my laugh. Depression robs you of such simple meaningful things like smiles and a laugh here and there. It felt good to get that back, even if it was brief.

I am still feeling hopeless and pointless toward the evenings. Once upon a time, I came alive at night. It is killing me that I haven’t written in almost two years. Not long fiction, anyway. I know eventually the creative dam will break as it always does but waiting for that to happen is grueling. I feel like the well of creativity and ideas has just dried up and I’ve got nothing. It’s a painful joyless to state to find yourself in when your life’s blood has always been your creativity and ability to get lost in another world through your own writings. I need that back. Maybe now that I have a good shrink, my working Xanax dose back, and the house in order and the colder weather keeping people inside (including the obsessive compulsive lawn mowing habits I endured the last 7 months, geesh, these people need an intervention for their lawn fetishes)…Maybe creative sparks will come back. Eventually. The hardest part sometimes is just sitting down and staring at the blinking cursor, wondering where do I go from here. And occasionally just the forceful effort of making yourself write one sentence leads you into the story and sometimes…you want to smash the screen and throttle that taunting blinking cursor. Curse of being a writer. How I wish I’d been born with musical talent or the ability to draw. Writing is torturesome. Especially now that paper books are dying a slow death in the midst of ereaders and digital books and audibles. Ugh, such an affront to writers and readers who appreciate the feel of paper and vision of ink on the page.

According to my Grumpy Cat (R.I.P, girlie girl), today is ‘zero tasking day’. I promised my kid I wouldn’t make her do any chores. That does now absolve me, I have wet laundry I need to get out on the line. They are calling for snow Thursday so I need to get stuff clean and dry as quick as I can. Yesterday I did all the winter bedding, including all sheets, pillow cases, and comforters. It was anticlimactic, though, because I am using dollar laundry soap with zero lasting scent and I am out of scent beads so I didn’t even get the pleasure of fresh smelling laundry. You miss little things like that when you can’t afford them suddenly. Frivolous and silly perhaps but…I only pay a buck for the scent crystals and since the donor no longer works at Dollar Tree apparently, it is safe to go back there. Now I don’t have a dollar to spend to make our clothes smell laundered.

I also don’t have the money for an antifungal cream I need for a skin issue. Insurance won’t cover it because it is available over the counter but if you don’t have $4.99 to buy it, well, I am out of luck. So the issue will just get worse and then I will likely need an office visit and more expensive extensive treatment…Geesh, if I focus on this shit, I will go stark raving mad. My kid already has me sweating Christmas, asking for this and that and me not knowing if I will even have $20 to spend on her. I curse missing that Angel Tree deadline, but with no gas in the car, I couldn’t get there and no one was around to give me a ride so..

Okay, enough negativity. I won’t barf rainbows, but I’ve been staying on track lately with trying to see things in a less negative light and I’d like to keep to that. Until the depression dictates otherwise, and inevitably, it will. Long days in the middle of nowhere, too cold to go outside, no gas or money to get to town, and a kid constantly indoors griping about boredom the second the tablet dies…Oh, yes, there will be depression and I will get to wallow in the negativity.

For now…I will finish the final two episodes of the final season of Z Nation and get caught up on my regular shows and maybe that will keep me from obsessing too much about the financial situation. At least for this month, at least, all the bills are paid. Can’t afforda a box of Kleenex, but we will have shelter, heat, lights, car insurance,phone, net, water, and food.

I was reminded the other day how ungrateful I can be sometimes. A man approached me in the parking lot of a store and asked if I could spare a dollar so he could get something to eat. And I happened to have two ones on me so I gave them to him, knowing full well it might be a scam or whatever but…I watched him walk right over to a fast food place. Spook and I probably needed that two bucks but our bellies aren’t hungry so maybe he needed it more. Someone always has it worse. That’s what you gotta remember. And I do believe in karma. Helping others is never a bad thing. God knows Spook and I have had a lot of wonderful people help us over the years. Our gratitude is enormous.

I feel shitty that we keep ending up in the same broke situation because I am too unstable to hold a job (or even get someone to HIRE ME AT ALL) but I gotta focus on getting myself well and just keeping…keeping on. As the bracelet on my wrist is inscribed on the inside to always remind me…Keep fucking going.

Sometimes that’s all we’ve got.

The Clock Turns Back An Hour, I Turn Back For Five Months

Posted in anxiety, bipolar depression, Seasonal Sffective Disorder with tags , , , , , , , , , , on November 4, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I can already feel my ‘vrooom’ factor I get during spring and summer fading. The months long depression, anxiety, panic attacks, and inept medication from that garbage nurse took me down significantly but this abrupt cold and excessive darkness and the clocks turning back…Seasonal Affective Disorder (S.A.D) has kicked in. I am fighting with all my might and mommy’s little helpers (99 cent energy shots, which my stock is low on and I can’t afford more since the donor flaked and our income dropped almost $350, next to go will be the internet)…But inevitably, like some internal default setting, my energy dries up and the depressive lethargy sets in for 5 months. All I can say is thank the sacred pegacorn this telepsych, Dr. R, gave me back my 3 mg daily Xanax. I actually let my kid have her friends inside the house yesterday and while it was annoying cos her one friend is annoying AF…I didn’t go off the deep end. It’s improvement.

Halloween was dismal. 8 trick or treaters over 2 nights. It rained for 24 hours one night, the next night it snowed and was 23 degrees. Miserable. Only plus was that I managed to get Spook a ride to a couple of functions with her friend and his dad so she got to go out, and I didn’t have to use gas I don’t have to burn in the car. Sadly, I could not take her to the school dance. For the second year in a row I told her I would, and then the donor flakes on his job and child support, and I simply can’t afford the new dress and shoes and admit fee and gas and snacks and…I know she was disappointed but, honestly, in light of how she screamed at me and hit me pretty much every morning last week, she really didn’t deserve a reward. I do feel bad letting her down. I just couldn’t eek out the money from my $835 a month when half is for rent, 40% was for power, then car insurance, water, pet supplies, has, etc…And I missed the cut off to sign her up for Angel Tree so I honestly have NO idea how I am going to buy her Christmas this year. Guess I will figure it out.

My own fault, I overestimated the donor. He usually lasts six months at a job before flaking.

I found out the ass trash lawyer I can’t stand who has dragged out this whole process of ridding myself of the donor and appeasing the court’s ordered visitation…is appearing in court today because PETA found 20 dogs and 8 horses on his ‘ranch’ and they were starving and injured and had been for quite some time so he’s up on misdemeanor charges for that. What a fucking winner. Animal abusers are not something I can abide by. And I think anyone who mistreats an animal should be charged with a felony because the slaps on the wrist do not get through to the lazy ones. Some people are just evil and like neglecting or hurting animals and some people are just plain fucking LAZY. Maybe a felony record for the rest of their lives would get them off their LAZY asses so they could at least find decent homes for the pets they are too LAZY and CRUEL to care for. My pets may not live in luxury but their basic needs are always met. Geesh. Not only is he a woman hating inept lawyer who has taken almost 4 years to secure an uncontested disolution and uncomplicated visitation schedule, he’s a monster who neglects and abuses animals. My uncle sure picked me a winner.

I have been bringing even more order to the house. I figure go with it while the organized thoughts are there. It ain’t perfect, I am never gonna be the kind of neatnik who spazzes over dust bunnies but…it’s much, much better.

The clock back thing is kind of messing with my internal clock. I was ready for bed at 7:30 last night. That’s early even for my depressed state. I will eventually adjust, I suppose, but for now, it sucks.

My kid says the metadate is making her sleepy at school so she can’t focus. She already does not want to take the pill. I will have to ask the doctor about it, I guess. Seems to me the kid is just never happy with anything. She begged for three months for this S kid to come hang out inside then when he came over yesterday, she spent 80% of the time yelling at him. Not that I blame her, he really does NOT listen. I guess that is part of why he is on the spectrum but it does not excuse being disrespectful of his friends or, you know, ME. My home, my rules. He couldn’t even throw away his trash, ffs. Not that my kid does any better but she is going to start losing access to her tablet if it persists. I worked my ass off getting this place in order. Now I gotta stay on top of it.

I am down to one final task I do NOT want to do. My sister brought me that ‘new’ used vaccuum and I really need to do the carpets but hate those bloody hell machines. Noisy, complicated, easily clogged, and half the time they aren’t really sucking up much. Guess I need a specialty pet vac to get the cat hair off the carpet.

I am very pleased with the kittens and how well they are taking to litter training. They’re sweetie pies.

So, some pics from Halloween, just cos…I can.

Never mind, it says I gotta resize them smaller and I can’t be arsed. Maybe another time. For now…I feel okay-ish. That may change later, Spook wants that kid to come over again and man…I try to be tolerant but…some people you can only take in small doses.

Like me.

My Mind Says DO SOMETHING, My Depression Says GO TO HELL

Posted in anxiety, bipolar depression, depression with tags , , , , , on September 30, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I recently read how one blogger deleted her blog because she felt like it was just repeating the same stuff and had become stale and boring.

You should all be so lucky if I did that to this blog.

Depression IS BORING. Redundant. Same old, same old. It borders on “would you shut the hell up about your depression already, we get it, you’re depressed!” But the only way to tell it like it is with severe bipolar depression is to, well, tell it like it is, boring, banal, neurotic, a downer, redundant, lather, rinse, repeat.

I thought today would be The Day that I’d leap out of bed and into action and just get shit done around the house. Even for my low standards, the biohazard level has become dire.

Instead, I took my melatonin way too early last night and was so groggy, I was out before 9, once I knew my kid had kept her word, watched her program, and was in bed and asleep by that time. I woke at 10. I woke at 11. I had to use the bathroom and was thirsty but I knew if I got up, I’d have a bitch of a time getting back to sleep since I am out of benadryl and that is a crucial part of my sleepy time cocktail. But I got up and…was still awake after 3 a.m. frustrated and taunted by the clock ticking toward the alarm going off. Round and round my mind went. None of the therapy tricks to calm down helped. An extra melatonin and a BUspar did nothing. I sat up. I watched some TV. I tried to bore myself to sleep with one of these wifi TV plus channels called law TV or something (ermagod, TV has set me up for such failure the way they make trials look interesting when in fact they are so goddamn long and boring)…Eventually my mind was racing so bad even with that monotany in the background, I switched to The New Detectives and eventually…I drifted off. Just in time to embrace the snooze button right up til the last minute. I know if I have to use the bathroom, I gotta do it before Spook is up or I could be waiting 20 minutes while she lollygags in there so I didn’t even get my extra third 10 minutes of snooze time.

I woke with third day curse cramps and a backache so bad I thought my spine would snap. I was sleepy and achey, and all I could think about was getting her on the bus so I could go back to sleep. I even took a melatonin, thinking just a two hour nap might revive me. Not only did the nap not happen, the more the morning wore on, the more my anxiety climbed. I look at all that needs done and I…just…can’t. I try to break it down into little pieces here and there so I can at least get my own mind off my back by doing something, anything…

My depression then rises like a fire breathing dragon and tells me to go to hell, it ain’t happening today.

People think depression is just this low mood. It is like a flu of the mind and body. No matter how good you might feel to accomplish something, no matter how ashamed you are that things are this bad, none of it matters. Depressive inertia is just metastatic. I can’t even enjoy watching Slasher. I thought for sure it would help improve my mental state, but alas…I can’t bring myself to care about the characters when I can’t even care enough to make sure we have clean laundry. (Well, I do, but my kid hoards hers god knows where then waits til the last minute to say, I have no clean shirts or pants, grrrr.) The only take away from Slasher was a VERY creative and gruesome way to murder someone which involved and axe to either side if the neck, a blood geyser, followed by a beheading and the head being placed on top of a car hood ornament. Yeah, ewww, what kind of person finds that anything but disgusting? Oh, ya know, a person who was watching Friday The 13th at age 8 when other kids were still into Smurfs and Barbies…It’s escapism, plain and simple. Except I am not escaping my depression. I am now loathing myself for not being able to get into the show which I have watched every season of and it feels like my own failure because the show isn’t bad and the script has some creative as fuck ways to off the shitty people (or sometimes not so shitty but still, slashers gotta slash someone)…

I want to rise out of the ashes like a fire breathing dragon myself and get shit done. I want to change the things I can that are bringing me down, like the disorganized and icky house. Between cramps and backache and just being tired from interrupted sleep…All I can really do is wait it out and hope the mood tides shift.

I really miss my old days, before I had to go on spawn-daytime schedule. I used to clean house at 2 a.m. and I got shit done. Now I am so tapped out by 7 p.m., I can’t fathom making it past midnight unless I;ve already slept and just randomly wake up and can’t get back to sleep.

My kid and I have a “Tv date: tonight to watch 9-1-1 together, she is super jazzed about the previews showing a tsunami, so maybe we can enjoy that and snuggle buggle and I can succeed at one part of being a decent mother. Of course, this all hinges on how her school day went and the mood tides have changed. This Focalin they changed her to to is doing NO GOOD, fuck you Meridian insurance for not covering the ONE med that DID work.

Plus side, our internet hasn’t been down for the last 20 hours. I should probably call and cancel the tech guy but we are expecting rain this week which is usually when it fucks up so maybe I will wait…Idk.

Final episode of Slasher. Maybe then I will accomplish something. Or not. Much as I try to adhere to my old counselor’s “do one small goal then feel how you feel:…there are days when even this is beyond my capability. Especially when on a medication making you more depressed instead of less depressed.

Bipolar depression really is a depression of its own and I am left to wonder why, other than Latuda, there are so few options geared to bipolar two disorder. It;s disheartening to think that big pharma thinks bipolar one is the only severe enough axis to keep developing new meds for. Bipolar two is just as crippling and it’s long past time for some research into how to alleviate this scourge.

The Wrecking Ball That Is Mental Illness

Posted in anxiety, bipolar depression, depression, mental health with tags , , , , , , , , on September 30, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Yeah, okay, I,too, am not entirely comfortable with the term ‘mental illness’ due to the fact that it does come with some many negative connotations and stigma. I am also LOATHE to jump on this “behavioral health” bandwagon as the name itself invalidates legitimate mental health disorders and calls them behavioral issues. For the sake of this post, I am going to go with mental health issues as a term as it is fitting, DSM and political correctness be damned. But seriously, instead of a kinder, gentler world with more understand of mental health issues, the campaign to de-stigmatize has recently taken some blows-by the very people in charge who are supposed to be setting an example of the tolerance, understanding, and compassion.

Not to mention as of recent years any time someone goes on a shooting spree, the powers-that-be toss around “it’s just the mentally ill people doing this”. Which, FYI, is a fucking joke, considering the alleged background checks are supposed to track down psych hospitalizations and such, so if anything, the only guns the ‘mentally ill’ are easily getting are on the street and gee, whose fault might that be that illegal arms dealers don’t do background checks? Not to mention, most of the shootings have stemmed from militant hate filled people whose sanity, by legal definition, is pretty sound, or how else would they function highly and use guns as opposed, to say, going bonkers and grabbing a kitchen knife or an axe or some other readily available weapon ‘crazy’ people use?

Most of us who battle mental health issues are not violent or delusional. We have highs, lows, unexplained sadness, rampant anxiety. It is a wrecking ball to our ability to function normally. Not to say many don’t find the right drug cocktail and therapist and go on their merry way. It’s just not like that for many of us. And while we are battling all of this, we are surrounded by people who scoff and just want us to get over it and quit being such downers. If depression worked that way, well, big pharma would wither and die and hey, if we were all ‘in our right minds’, well, then who will be blamed for the mass violence next? People who eat chocolate obsessively? Coffee drinkers amped up on caffeine and sugar?

My mental health issues impact EVERY aspect of my life. My ability to be a good mom, to keep house, to pay bills on time, to feed the cats, make sure my kid and I are bathed and wearing clean clothes…It impacts my ability to forge bonds with others because I have tried and everyone gets sick of the ups and downs and the times I go down the depressive rabbit hole and become a paranoid anxiety ridden trainwreck. So I self isolate to protect not just myself from rejection, but to protect others because I know this shit show called my mental health could devour people with less strength, and it has. It’s just a giant wrecking ball that robs me of focus, robs me of sleep, robs me of joy, even in these I love. I try to rebuild, but before I can, I am having another bout, or stick stuck in one because my psych care is so lackluster.

My family says I am just making excuses not to try harder. They seem to think I enjoy being anxious and depressed and popping pills. I do NOT. One of the happiest times of my life-even though I was depressed and anxious as hell- was when I was pregnant and the ONLY pill I had to take every day was a prenatal vitamin. Opening the cabinet and seeing only one bottle as opposed to 4 or 5…it felt damned good. And I tried to do without meds, repeatedly. It always ends the same way. Me falling apart and things getting worse. So while my current meds aren;t doing a damn thing…I keep clinging to that wrecking ball, swinging back and forth, hoping when it stops…I can start trying to rebuild my sanity, my zest for life, my shattered self esteem and the feelings of rejection and isolation…

Make no mistake about it. Much like a wrecking ball used in building demolition, mental health disorders are every bit as destructive, stripping you down until you barely feel human. Until you feel like nothing you do will ever rebuild the wreckage left in the wake of manic episodes or depressive bouts.

The last thing we need are our supposed leaders labeling all mentally people as potential mass shooters. We’re traumatized enough daily by the stigma and the disorders themselves. Stop blaming the mentally ill for abhorrent acts of hatred and violence. Reap what you have sown, society, by accepting a culture filled with such hatred and so much division that these horrible acts occur. Get it through your head that because those of us who battle mental health disorders, we are more likely to throw ourselves in front of a bullet to save someone’s life as opposed to taking a life. That isn’t crazy or mentally ill. It’s called being a compassionate human being.

Something that is sorely missing in the UNited States these days,

No Crystal Ball Needed

Posted in anxiety, bipolar depression, depression with tags , , , , , on September 27, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

My (now former) psych nurse was so damned predictable, I called it. She refused to change out the Zoloft, increasing it only another 50 mg and saying I would still have another 50 to increase to max dose for my next doctor to figure out. I maintain after 10 weeks and three dose changes with NO relief from the depressive symptoms, she is wrong wrong wrong. I’ve had competent doctors before and yes, it is usually SOP to max out the dose before changing meds but the thing is…they maxed me out within 6 weeks. With her, every fucking appointment is between 4-6 weeks and she only eeks my dose up a little and I am left twisting in the fucking wind. I was not amused. And her cavalier yet stubborn manner was enough to send me into a rage were it not for the fact that the anxiety of the appointment alone had my blood pressure 26 points above my norm and all I wanted was OUT of there.

4 more weeks on a medication that actually is giving me suicidal thoughts. I tried to tell her this and she just wasn’t hearing it. I am so frustrated and I feel utterly powerless and unheard. And I predicted it would be exactly that way, though I did think she’d at least max my dose out over 4 weeks instead of eeking it up 50 mg. Thing is now I am terrified to take even more of the stuff since it’s higher dose has my sleep fucked up and it is giving me darker thoughts. WTF?

Yesterday I was in cramp hell and I honestly didn’t think I’d be able to do more than make the appointment and come right back home. But I doubled up on generic Tylenol (organ damage just to alleviate menstrual pain, jeebus, can’t modern medicine do better than this????) and I managed the appointment and a few errands. Cats are lucky I love them so much, otherwise I might have just said screw it and not bothered replenishing the supply. Not that it did me a bit of good. No sooner than I was home and ready to settle in for the day stepmonster called and said her and dad were both working and for some reason mass transit couldn’t get my brother so Spook and I had to make a trip to fucking town to get him. Sooo aggravating. I just do not know why their man child is my problem. There’s helping out family and then there is family taking advantage and they are totally doing the latter. In my current mental and hormonal state, this is just leading to a powder keg situation. But honestly, other than “I don’t want to”, I can’t come up with a way to avoid them and their requests. Because if I try to explain my mental state, then they guilt me for not being able to ‘buck up and get over it’. Then they remind me, I don’t work and they do and…

It is so hard teaching my child not to hate when I feel so much hatred for people and things myself.

Right now I am feeling pissy because I woke up an hour before the alarm and it was still dark out. The digital antenna keeps fucking up so I can’t watch one single channel without it fading out or getting garbled.(Gotta be all the truckers going by with their CBs or some shit, just started the last week or so when harvest did.) I was feeling cold so I changed into pants and sleeves and now I am starting to feel too warm. My gums hurt from anxious gnashing of teeth. Is it Thursday or Friday? Because I wasn’t clear on that when I woke up. I first thought, oh, it’s Saturday, I can stay in Fort Blankie longer…This level of confusion bothers me. I mean, I know it happens to everyone, but then, everyone isn’t stuck taking a medication that is making them MORE depressed. Cramps are starting up again and honestly, I am tired of taking pain relievers because I am so scared of organ damage. But then again, how would anyone determine it for sure, considering how long and how many psych meds I’ve been on?

Definitely altered. And the daily shit show of a reality TV program isn’t helping. I am so disgusted with the state of things in the U.S. Politics was always a shit show but now it’s a damn reality show that never goes off air. Same shit, different day. Bad President. Witchhunt and fake news. It should not be this goddamn adversarial and convoluted. You do wrong, you face the consequences. But no one can agree on right or wrong anymore because the fucking reality program rules change versus what was right or wrong in prior administrations. They’ve turned it all into this junior high Twittering moron war between parties and I am just SICK of it all. I can’t stand reality TV and now I am living it. At the mercy of a bunch of elderly children bickering over whose interpretation of good or bad is correct. I was taught that corruption and bullying are wrong. Now it’s just ‘everyone decides to be a bully’ madness.

I want to go back to when politics took care of itself and the corrupt people weren;t constantly on my TV and in my email. Naive and head in the sand perhaps, but really…what is the current shit show accomplishing except dividing Americans in a way that is hate filled and suggesting of violence as an answer?

Guess I will take my useless fucking meds and hope my mind stops whatever tantrum it is having due to hormones and mental defects.

At least I know when my mind is misbehaving and I don’t try to justify it with hate filled social media blasts. GUess that makes me more self aware and mature than, well, most of the current political regime. Or maybe the reality show has finally short circuited my brain and I am in the midst of a damn breakdown.

I have no idea.

Glitter, Slime, and Mental Chaos

Posted in anxiety, bipolar depression, depression with tags , , , , , on August 8, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

My kid had a good birthday yesterday. The aftermath, however, is not good. The slime making kits are a pain in the ass. There is glitter everywhere on the living room floor. My vacuum is about as useful as a loud paper weight. IF I even had the energy and wherewithal to stand using the hell machine. I am so sensitive to loud noise these days that something as basic as using the vacuum has become a challenge. That and I hate housework.

But the biohazard status of the place is starting to bother even my low standards. The problem is, the depression has seemed to worsen since I started the Zoloft and began weaning off the Wellbutrin. I can’t discern if it’s just a functionality hangover where it takes me days, sometimes weeks, to recover from high functionality and being on the go and facing stressful panic inducing situations…or if it’s the usual transition with the meds, or god forbid, is the Zoloft actually making me feel more depressed? One thing I can say about it, and again, this could be the exhaustion of the last week or so’s go,go,go, but I am sleeping better and not waking up as many times during the night. Which kind of was the goal of asking to try Zoloft, because I remember it always helped with sleep. It’s not as sedating as it once was so it’s not helping with the anxiety or panic or distorted thoughts.

I don’t think the professionals understand that while the medications stay the same, our minds and bodies and metabolism and hormones are constantly changing, shifting, waning, ebbing- and this all bears significant weight on whether we respond positivel or negatively to medications. And I am painfully aware of how many meds and combos I have tried over the years, though they seem hell bent on pointing it out every appointment as if to make it seem like a Goldilocks/Princess and the Pea thing. I’d do cartwheels with bells on my feet if I could find a med/combo that helped. I don’t like changing meds. I always feel like I am letting the doctors down when meds fail to make me feel better. The fact that I have been on Lamictal for over ten years and it works fine should tell them, if it works, I don’t fix what ain’t broken.

How many topic changes was that? The mental chaos has reached fever pitch. I have laundry piling up, dishes piling up, and of course, I have stress stomach aches, headaches, and that distorted sense that if I move from my safe crypt space, bad things will happen. I KNOW it’s distortion. I just don’t know what to do about it. I’ve even wondered if maybe my conditions have morphed into an extreme situation where perhaps I need an anti psychotic. Those have been poison for me, though, even the newer ones with supposedly fewer side effects. Going down that path terrifies me, but it may realistically be something I have to face.

Anyway, I see all this stuff that needs done and I can’t even get clothes on this morning. I was up til 11″30 last night (it was the kid’s birthday, so I let her stay up late, and I felt proud of myself because usually if I am not in bed by 9, my entire routine is thrown off.) I woke at 5:50 a.m., to my disgust. I tried to go back to sleep but once it is light out, that becomes an impossibility. And a half hour ago when I saw it was 9 a.m. my first thought was, nine hours til calm time nearing bedtime. I don’t think it gets more depressed, anxious, or distorted than that. And I poured it all out for the support nurse and the NP and the nurse was very sympathetic and noticed from my heightened blood pressure and sweaty hand wringing that I was not in good shape. The NP on the other hand, well, she made the right noises and said the right words, but I don’t think she puts much stock in what I say. That could be my own distortion and paranoia, but it’s how I feel. I will say this. I was brave that day and I sat in a chair right near her desk so she was forced to look at me. I realized I could have done that the whole time but because I get so panicky and need to be near an exit, I was always sitting by the door and she didn’t have much choice but to not face me. One thing she still does that drives me bonkers is clack on the computer the whole time. That is unnerving. Especially when I am willing to consent to recording the session so she could make notes later. It’s not that I don’t want anything entered on my record, I’d just prefer it not be while I am sitting there, so sensitive to noise, and becoming more unnerved and stressed.

This topic changing and rambling is what I call mental chaos. I can’t make the most basic decision, like getting dressed, feeding myself, doing laundry, dishes, sweeping, using the hell machine on the carpet…I keep hoping once the Zoloft dose goes up this weekend, soon I will notice positive changes in my mind set. It’s always tough coming off one med and started another and that’s not the NP’s fault. It’s just a sucky reality of psych meds. I can’t make sense of anything in my mind. It’s just too cluttered and I am so confused and I feel so weak and vulnerable and I keep going back to the improvements I felt on Abilify but I absolutely could not handle the side effects. Some trade off.

Maybe I need to stop beating up on myself, set my small goal for each day, accomplish that, and hope the landlord doesn’t do some pop inspection and see how chaotic the house is. He hasn’t done a single inspection but now his son in law is handling things so that could change and I live in fear of it…Yet my brain screams FIX IT ALREADY AND YOU WON’T BE SO PARANOID AND FEARFUL. That does not work with mental illness. All I can do is hold out hope that my mental state will soon change. Spook starts school next Thursday so we will have a routine and perhaps that will help me get a little clarity and motivation. I HOPE. I even thought about asking my sister and her friend to come over and help me since they are both excellent house cleaners, but no doubt they will too busy, as in the past when I was begging for help, even offered to pay for their time, and they were too busy. I literally have no one to help me here. And I know at 46 I should put on the big girl panties and do it myself but the depressive abyss has me so scattered and things have piled up so much…I feel like I need help, and that is not an easy thing for me to admit.

One thing at a time. Today I need to do dishes, at least one load of laundry to hang dry, and see to Spook’s needs. Oh and gather up the trash from my yard since my dad was on my ass about it last night when they brought her bday gifts by. That man is not happy if he isn’t bitching and putting me down. I will say this for him, he called yesterday at 7:50 a.m. from his work to wish Spook a happy birthday. For him to do something so thoughtful was impressive. He can’t even remember what day my birthday is on.

Okay, wrapping it up. I hope I start feeling better soon. It seems I am losing followers and no one is reading because obviously I have become a repetitive “I feel so shitty” Debbie Downer so…I want my regulars back, all 9 of them. Of course, people are busy and my posts are long rambles, so maybe it isn’t about me at all. I have no clarity so…I have no idea. It’s just confusing and chaotic in my mind right now and honestly…it’s scary as hell.