Archive for the bipolar depression Category


Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , on August 7, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Suffice it to say the pony party for Spook Saturday went ok. My stomach was a wreck from the moment I woke to hours after we got back and I barely slept Friday night…Fortunately, everyone was civilized. Sorta. This dysfunctional family always has an incident or two but at least they were like dud firecrackers instead of bottle rockets.

That is Spook riding the pony Sassy Pants. I thought it was so nice they had all the pink ribbons in her mane and such. She only gave a ride or two then they noticed a limp and she has the equivalent of a human with an ingrown toe nail so she has to see a vet.

That is Pepper pony, the kids rode him a bit more but honestly…I felt bad for the ponies as well as my uncle traveling 90 miles to bring them to town (Bumfuck, not our town) and the various brats paid more attention to the swingset and trampoline. I kept walking over to pet the ponies and talk to them and tell them thank you for letting the kids ride them.

The PLUS side was my sister’s friend M and her brood didn’t come and her friend Bty showed minus her bf and his 3 spawns. Down side, there were 40 people there and only 8 were remotely related or known to me. I had such stomach issues I kept running in to use the bathroom which of course made everyone assume I was anti social and convinced I am too good for them. Then my uncle made a comment about how I don’t talk much but HELLOOOO? Anxiety around crowds.

Genius stepmonster served 40 pork chops with one package of buns and an empty bottle of bbq sauce.

The horse cake dad’s neighbor made.

As for me…I tossed some fake blue streaks in my hair just to keep with being ‘the weird one’ in the family Their weird is my awesome.

(I even wore make up and earrings, Trintellix must be doing something good!!!)

Perhaps not my finest parental moment, I begged my kid for this from her temp tattoo gift she got cos…

I AM…THE FLASH. The little known blue one, anyway.

My part in the birthday shindig was to let her friend S sleep over 2 nights and I took them to Wendy’s for 50 cent Frosty’s then a free ferris wheel ride (it started pouring rain once we got stopped at the top and then they shut it down, we were all drenched).

Tonight is just pizza and cake and ice cream at my mom’s. I’d say no biggie but I just know my sister’s friends and all their spawns will be there, ugh. They are so much older than Spook, they just come for the free food. I will tough it out. Because I have to.

What has me stressing is her meth head friends, I mentioned them in a prior post. Well they need a place to live and everyone knows my slumlord pretty much rents to anyone if they have the cash and now my sis and them are expecting me to be a reference. Honestly, I don’t know these people well (I do like J’s mom a lot) but what I do know…I ain’t putting my residency on the line to back some meth heads who lost custody of 3 kids. (I forgot they had the third one, he was taken away when he was so little but seems to be thriving away from them so good for him.) They do drugs, sell drugs, are renowned for house hopping and bailing when they have no money…

I can’t be judging on the house hop thing, I have found myself many times in the situation of no money thus having to bail out of a rental place and I have shit references to prove it. I’ve been here 8 years and shit as it may be, for the rent I pay and all the inclusions and space…I’m not getting tossed out for these meth heads I don’t much know. (I hooked the donor up with them when he wanted to buy pot back in the day, not sure that’s saying I know them, simply of them.)

Grr, being put in these spots. And I had money stolen from my purse Saturday at the shindig cos for whatever bizarre reasons various redneck teenagers were there (for the free food, I guess, dad and his woman know them) but I can’t dare mention it or file a report because then it will start family war and their friends’ perfect teen snowflakes would never mess with an unattended purse let alone steal…

Right now Spook has her friends R and S here on my living room floor and they’re into my 40 plus bottle nail polish stash and I think our brain cells are dying off from the bloody fumes. But birthday girl and all that stuff. I only spent about $22 on her birthday and feel cheap but at least she got three shindigs and more stuff out of it.

Now mommy wants someone to gift her with a spork of fortitude/aka/Canadian whiskey and coke.

Fuck me, right? Meh. 9 days and she’s back in school. Tick tock. Can’t wait. R best not bug me because I texted him twice as there is a hose hanging off my car which might be why it is running so crappy but he can’t even bother with a ten second ‘fuck you’ reply. When he needs his stupid parts, the favor will be repaid.

Not petty. Turnabout.

Low Blow

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , on July 27, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Welcome to cyclothymic bipolar disorder. I was hardly bouncing off walls the last two days but I wasn’t down or low functioning or well, depressed. This evening my mood has totally crashed with no real explanation except, nature of the beast. (Bipolar, not me, I am a sexy beast, it is not.)

Perhaps that is the mystery that stymies doctors and patients alike. WHERE do these abrupt mood crashes come from? So much chatter about “there has to be a trigger” but there simply was not one today. I suppose I could blame the gray rainy day as that is normally something that affects my mood but we’ve had so much heat and almost no rain for months I welcomed the wet and gloom. And it wasn’t until after supper, where I did battle to ‘be normal’ and sit at a table and share a meal with my child…she bolted for her fiends, er, friends, and my mood…I guess feeling ditched might explain a mood crash.

Or again, nature of the beast.

Plus side, my sanity seems stable. I am no longer viewing my family with quite as much hate, even took Spook to see my mom today. To mom’s credit, she didn’t get spawn the tablet, she showed me a little MP3 player thing but it plays videos, I guess. She’ll still be making catalog payments next year, long after my snowflake has destroyed it. I am so grateful I learned my lesson on all that crap. Rather have used shit and no payments.

Another plus, R installed a used Pioneer stereo in the car for me last night. Bad side, I had to listen to him lecture me on how I am wrong to identify more with democratic views than republican, I listen to fake news, I don’t read things properly, I am ignorant, blah blah blah. He’s become a politcal zealot and he NEVER used to be, at all. I never even knew if he voted, let alone that he is non partisan but favors Republicans when voting. It’s not something I am interested in. I said as much and he told me I am part of the problem. Guess that was the price for making my rusted bucket of bolts worth $100 more dollars. Least the stereo drowns out the lack of muffler. And it’s running better now so I won’t be trapped getting a ride to Bumfuck for my kid’s pony birthday party at my dad’s (So much crap, my kid likes the neon color plastic ponies, she’s not a horse fan, my stepmonster is the one into horses, so no brain needed to know whose idea this debacle was.) I will go, stay as long as my nerves will handle (my uncle and his crew will be there and two downers from dad’s side and the overbearing monster of step are gonna drive me to drink, even my sister is dreading the entire thing, that’s how awful these people we call family are for your mental health.)

Honestly, people who don’t even include the mom in the birthday are pretty awful, doncha think?

Just gotta make it through the next seven days being penniless and AGAIN running low on food. Least junk food, have actual food. Wish I had money for brake fluid, my car is low again thanks to the leak that is never gonna get fixed because I can’t afford a mechanic who will actually fix it rather than just promise to. (You get what you don’t pay for.) Then I gotta survive that hellish party in the sticks, another get together mom is having (Spook wants it at a park and I am allergic to everything outdoors so it will be misery for me, too, and sorry, I do not control allergens and histamines, it is what it is.) Then figure out what to do with her for her actual birthday. Dad’s takeover ruined the plans we’d made. Ass trash.

I thought venting might help me feel better but…nope. Low is low. And perfectly normal for bipolar. I had a good run. And yeah, 2 days without splat is a good run for me. Good ole cyclothymia. The sun’ll come out tomorrow and all that bullshit. New day, yada yada. Now to peel all the kittens off of me so I can go check on the marauding spawn.

Is it bedtime yet? Big fan of bedtime when splat hits. And who wouldn’t prefer sleep and even bad dreams to the frustration of trying to figure out why one minute you felt fine and the next, you wanted to assume the fetal position under Fort Blankie?

Not an Unsolved Mystery, preferring Mr. Sandman.

The Final Meltdown

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , , on July 9, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

(C’mon, 80’s music fans, let the tune of Europe’s “The Final Countdown” become an ear worm.)


So, not the final meltdown, never is with bipolar, there will always be another and another but this last week..I reached rock bottom. And I mean, the kind of rock bottom that leaves you feeling ashamed and embarrassed and like crawling underground and rotting there rather than face people and own your behavior.

Most insulting is that everyone’s blamed my behavior on my meds failing. This particular meltdown had little to do with meds or bipolar. That may be an exacerbating factor, but 99.9% is menstrual dysphoria. The thing no one in my life, including my shrink/psych nurse, gives any credence to. But it’s real, it’s all consuming, and it is EVERY FUCKING MONTH. Now the extent can vary by monthly cycle but at least half a dozen times a year…

I basically go bonkers for ten days that month. It’s random, too, so no predicting or planning. No avoiding situations where the behavior is going to result in…shittiness.

Wednesday I dropped my kid off at my mom’s. And was informed by my mom that my dad and stepmonster have a pony ride thing planned for my kid’s birthday. WTF? They didn’t ask me, didn’t inform me, didn’t invite me. Menstrual, bipolar, or what not, how is that remotely okay? I AM HER MOTHER. They also declared, not asked, that they were keeping her 4 days that week for her to go to bible school at my brother’s church. WTF???? So that lit the fuse.

The old friend with bennies popped in and could not have been less interested in company or sexy stuff. (Fuck off and die, lithium.) So I was pissed that not even my mojo was working, cos hey, I deal with people all the time and hate it but I manage. But my own body being a traitor? COCKWEASEL. Didn’t help by this time I had watched the ep of Grey’s Anatomy where Derek died so the hormonal tears were lurking everywhere.

Around midnight the fuse burned until exploding like a stick of dynamite when my sister texted to tell me my kid has, FOR THE SIXTH TIME THIS SUMMER, lice. And they were treating her with the very chemicals I FORBADE and even got a dr note for the school to avoid. And they’ve done it before, too, and it started war and they went and did it again. And to make it all worse, it wasn’t my family that discovered it AGAIN, it was my brother in law’s stoner buddy who thinks because he has three awful female teenagers it makes him an expert on MY child. Then I got the lecture on how could I miss it, I must have not gotten it all, blah blah, we’re just trying to help Spook and you…

WTF am I supposed to do when her friends don’t get treated or one does but the parents might have it but don’t treat themselves? I can’t lock her up. I can’t put her in a clear hamster ball. What am I supposed to do? And while my sister was “this stuff happens’ my out of control hormones and emotions were telling me my mother’s likely plotting against me as an unfit mom to take Spook from me. Logical? Probably not. But my mother is a two faced back stabbing monster half the time, so it’s not entirely without basis. She goes out of her way to be nice to my face then undermine me at every turn, especially with my kid.

So two separate factions of my family just hi-jacking my kid and going against my wishes caused me to explode. I threw my phone, aiming at the wall. I ended up hitting my laptop screen. GAME OVER. Couldn’t trash the five dollar shitty phone, had to hit the computer I loved so much. Shame was immediate. But hormones and emotions just rampaged and I eventually silenced my phone because I couldn’t deal with my sister and her friend and the lice and having zero input on my kid’s life..I spent two hours deep breathing and talking to myself, saying I have to calm down, I got this, I can clean up the fall out, I can…

By morning and my appt with the nurse practitioner (her scripts say DR, so I don’t understand at all)…I wasn’t as bad but my first words when seeing her were to warn her there was a good chance I was gonna curl up in the corner of her office and bawl. And I tried to explain, no, the meds aren’t doing it but MOSTLY every month, it’s the menstrual dysphoria. Based on her reaction, I may as well have been blaming it on tarot cards rather than trying to explain what is a ten day long dire condition for me every single month.

Oh, she asked the right questions. We talked meds (I went off lithium ten days and lost 13 pounds, HELLO????), we talked my eating habits, my sleep, my anxiety. I suggested Trintellex because I have heard good things and I’ve tried all but leeches and attaching myself to the car battery…I just had the distinct impression she was rather…dismissive of the menstrual dysphoric factor. Odd how NO ONE discounts pregnancy and menopause hormones yet the idea a month cycle can turn so vile is beyond their intellect…

She said not to go off the lithium and get the blood work done.Meh, close to the next appointment I will fake it. But I got the Trintellix (whatever, they changed the name so it may as well be called Clown Dick, which btw, is a character from the twisted Syfy show Blood Drive)…Day one, I got an excrutiating intermittent stomach ache that was worse than labor pains…Scared the HELL out of me. But I took it today and no agony so…one day at a time. It could be the magic bullet to make the combo work. (Lithium still can fuck itself.)

Thing is, my kid stayed at mom’s 2 days. By the second day, I kept waiting for them to bring her back cos my car is running so shitty,but they never did so finally I said, let her stay. I missed her so much. After the night before’s usurping, last thing I really wanted was her to be there even longer. But I was hurting, the car’s chugging scares me, andby ten p.m. it’s just…fuck it. And my kid confirmed they pretty much planned it that way. If I came to get her, she couldn’t stay but otherwise…they were waiting me out to keep her there.

Because they think I am a danger to my kid. My mom point blank asked it, then I guess after I went off on my sister over the lice chemicals…it became a bigger issue with mom. She sent her number home with Spook in case I “lose it” or she gets lonely. I mean, the other day, I had to tell my kid NO to conversation while anyone is in the bathroom and she whined that she gets lonely going pee. HOW AM I EVER GONNA NOT MAKE HER FEEL NOT LONELY WHEN NINETY SECONDS TO PEE MAKES HER FEEL ALONE?????? It’s not a contest, but I can’t win here. I cannot be a proper mom when everyone, while well meaning, keeps undermining me.

Which lead me to wonder why a girl who moved out at 17 even without parental consent, is now such a spineless wussy at 44. WHAT HAPPENED TO ME??? And it’s not that I care about them, I love them, but family is a proctology exam without lube for many of us…I think it’s because my parents are aging and my kid loves her grandparents and I don’t wanna be the asshole who keeps her from knowing them however long the universe deems is left. Yet, they are damaging me mentally so…

Did I mention my desktop computer happened to die the same night I went and fucked up the laptop? (which just needs an external monitor, its brain is okay, thank pegacorn I kissed enough of R’s butt to get this slimline laptop as a spare). That desktop was bought, used, 3 years ago, for $75 and came with monitor, mouse, keyboard, cam, mic…it was an amazing deal and thankfully I stored most of my stuff to external hard drive so the death isn’t fatal to my digital media…But still…I own what I did, I meant to hit the wall and as usual, my aim hit the laptop screen with the phone (still, it can be used with ext monitor)…Just…FFS. Isn’t it enough the car is leaking brake fluid, the back brakes are failing, and it’s backfiring minus the muffler system which makes me think it’s gonna burst into flames…

I just don’t understand why everything has to go wrong at once. But I own what I broke, even if I’m convinced my hormones were as altered as if nine months pregnant and demanding pickles and cotton candy…I own it.

I even made peace with my sister and her friend, they were kind enough to not hate me for being hormonal. My mom…while nicey nice to my face…

My kid woke me this morning and asked to get in my bed cos she had a nightmare that when my meds quit, I spanked her and wouldn’t stop and she was terrified.

I haven’t swatted her once in over a year because I don’t wanna be that asshole parent who says hitting is wrong yet spanks their kid.

Which means only one place she could have gotten the spanking idea and I trust my sis and her friend, they know how much I love my kid. My mother, however…She thinks she’s doing well but she’s…kind of the devil. I’m not perfect. I kinda suck sometimes. But I would sign myself into a psych ward if EVER thought I was even close to physically harming my child.

And if crying in front of her because one of my fave Grey’s Anatomy characters died is abusive or some shit…

Fuck you all. Emotion is good, even if real people are such assholes, it’s only inspired by fictional characters.

Not been my finest week but yesterday I bleached my hair then dyed it crimson. Today I made Jello and pudding for my kid and finally mowed the lawn and helped R with some computer glitch…Behaving badly does not make one bad.

Though my grounded child’s poor behavior makes me wonder. That’s another post, though.

Meltdown, Imminent

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , on July 5, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

So after 4 days of running around, in spite of shark week pre-cursors and traffic and the helliday and my kid’s busy social life…I hit the wall last night, nicely, and I slept. Oh, I slept so well, and I was all mean and made her sleep in her own bed because she’d spent 4 nights in mine…(Just when you think they’ve outgrown it).

It was good, because I knew today she would be spending the night at grandma’s and I could take the necessary time to recover from, well, being her social tour guide. Because it doesn’t matter how little I must participate or how far back on the sidelines I stand…It comes with a Huge Price. But I was willing, for her sake, which meant, I spent my July 4th home noshing Marco’s pizza (meth for the tastebuds, totally addictive and no tooth loss) and not drinking a drop of ritas. I had to fetch her toward midnight from her church shindig. PLUS, in the morning, I dragged my medication nausea/barfing induced butt out of bed to take her to the parade meeting point for the church so she could join in…AND I parked down at the shop and walked 3 blocks to the parade route, amidst panic inducing dish dwellers, just so she could see her mom cared enough to show. (Even if I went all tasmanian devil and vanished 2 mins later.)

I AM TRYING. For her. Because part of me thinks I am done, stick a moldy rusted spork in me. I am duty above joy or pursuit of happiness. Ha, depression laughs at such silliness.

THEN I got a text at 8:10 a.m. today. R asking me to pop by the shop cos he couldn’t find his glasses, thought he left them at home. And it was like, poof, from a carriage to a pumpkin. No longer relaxed and enjoying hard earned rest, just back into the fray of being what everyone needs me to be so I can use the barter system for what I need. Which, by the way, means I am still driving a car that runs like shit, backfires, and I am pretty sure has failing back brakes and is gonna kill me but R has no time for me, I just gotta drop all for him.

I went once she finally woke. And it turned out, his glasses were left at his buddy’s place because all the shiny happy married people my age/ten years my age, have raised their kids and now they have cook outs and shit, WITHOUT ME, and I wanna say it’s cos yes, I am younger, have a small kid, can’t afford to chip in for food and whatever…But frankly, I think I am just that much of a depressive downer no one wants me around. And how can I blame them when at least once a day I kinda wait to hear I have cancer or swine ebola so there seems some merciful end in sight of this…this…mentally disordered existence.

Chances are I would have declined an invite. But to not even be invited for the first time in 5 years? Wow. I suck. I suck more than a Dyson vacuum.

Hurt feelings aside…I can’t bring myself to really care.

What did get me fired up was when I dropped my kid at my mom’s for her sleepover and my mom, DIVORCED FROM MY DAD 20 YEARS NOW, informs me that dad and stepmonster are bringing in a FUCKING MINIATURE PONY to their armpit town for my kid’s birthday next month. I wasn’t told and I am so fucking mad, I want them both to die. I am her parent and they didn’t invite me or even check scheduling. Because she wants a sleepover at her home with her neighbor friends and I agreed to it and here those assholes are usurping me, leaving me out, telling me when they’re gonna take her for 4 days…

And instead of maternal support because it upset me so much, my idget mother tells me not to drag her into it and tell them she mentioned it.

HELLO? Spook is MY child. MINE. Someone should not only mention it, it should have been mentioned long ago, to me, to begin with. I love miniature ponies and I am glad she has friends in her grandpa’s neighborhood…But this being left out of the loop like I’m not even a factor makes me want to pull the plug, start a family war, and declare NONE of them get her for any birthday celebration.

But I am gonna hold off til after shark week and the hormones die down a little then I will go from there. Only thing worse than an asshole family is being so whacked out myself I make the assholes look like decent beings.

So now I am kid free, housework buried, and I have to see my nurse practitioner tomorrow and her office already called with disapproving tones because I haven’t had the blood work done. One more person I have to justify my hormonal raw emotional nerve endings to and hope she has the empathy to grasp that I am not being non compliant…I am….flailing.

And since I am flailing no matter how brave I am and what major things I accomplish for my kid’s sake…I am gonna selectively eviscerate myself emotionally.

I am on binge watch season 11 of Grey’s Anatomy and I am at the episode where Derek dies and this one made me bawl an hour the first time around…Shark week, I may still be bawling tomorrow. But the plus side is…least fictional characters make me feel something that isn’t toxic, that has a little hope, that doesn’t feel like my soul is dying.

Let’s leave that sucky reality shit to family and bipolar depression.

4 Days

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , on July 3, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

4 days. That’s how long I went without showering. Until today and I only forced myself to do it because the humidity was stifling and causing my pancreas to sweat. These little ‘normal’ things that ‘normal’ people do, like bathing, brushing teeth, folding laundry, attending a concert….

These are the uphill battles for bipolar depression. Such small things, seemingly simple and innocuous, but so…damned…difficult. 4 days without a shower. Nasty, right? Though I did wash my hair Saturday with the shower sprayer because no amount of deodorant can make your grubby hair and itchy scalp let up.

Do I admit any of this with pride? No. It’s humiliating. But a recent comment on how refreshing (or shocking or gross, something to that ilk) my blatantly honest take on depression is reminded me…I don’t blog so people find me funny or pretty or a genius. I blog because THIS IS THE REALITY. It’s ugly and nasty and embarrassing, but this is my truth, and it is the truth for millions of us who battle the ugly beast called depression. Many people can’t find their voice or don’t have the courage to open up about how awful it is.

It is for them, as much as myself, that I speak out on these ugly things.

And while mired in ugly petty depression that makes me a shitty person raining on parades and blowing up floats…I will also be fair and include the small triumphs.

Yesterday, the park was offering free ferris wheel rides and my kid begged me to take her. I was terrified. But I sucked it up and I took her and ya know what? It wasn’t the greatest fun because, eww, other people, agoraphobia, uneasy…But it wasn’t traumatic. And she got to ride with her mom, with her church friend, with the neighbor girls…and she didn’t puke or freak.And I was reminded how much I always LOVED amusement park rides. And contrary to what my ass trash stepmonster said, my ass DID fit in the seat.

Tomorrow I have to have her an allotted spot at 9:30 a.m. so she can march in the church parade and throw candy. That makes me nervous but I spoke with the pastor (who seems like such an amazing lady, I almost wish I was religious) and they said if picking her up was too much stress for me, they could bring her home. And I am so grateful. Then tomorrow night the church is having a cookout (I declined, cos crowds) and I am dropping Spook off and they are gonna take the kids to see fireworks at the park where I haven’t been able to go in 20 years because last time I went I threw up, the traffic and people were too much for my panic disorder.

I am so glad she gets to participate and selfishly glad that I have an escape route. I am not mean or selfish, but I am neurotic and with all meds failing (aside from lamictal and xanax) I am just not to the point where I can deal right now. I haven’t given up, though. The right cocktail could be out there and next year, I might be able to handle all the crowds and noise and traffic. It could happen.

Least this year I don’t have to feel like a monster for my neuroses. My kid gets to go be a kid and have fun and that’s great. Maybe my lazy butt will dye my hair or something that lame depressed people put off because, well, they are depressed. I don’t know. I am happy my kid and I got to do something together and now she gets to celebrate a holiday I really have no interest in. Loud fireworks may be pretty but the noise…NOPE.

Today was the trauma of paying bills and realizing how little money I have what with her birthday and school clothes and shoes and supplies coming up next month. It makes me lose my breath. But we will manage, even if she has 2 new outfits for school and we have to do mix and match. Or I may have to seek out a charity to help with supplies because the school is never good enough with dollar store stuff, they need certain pencil brands and notebooks and blah fucking yada bite me.

For today, though…Bills are paid, kid has food (I’ll be living on eggs, baloney, and nacho chips for the next month) and my car, which is running like crap and acting like it’s about to give up and drop in the road…got us home from errands. Small victories, right?

SEE? I can toss in some positive with all the negative. But the anxiety and panic and depression simply are what they are and if someone wants to deem me a gloom monger for speaking the truth…

Go stab yourself with a rusty spork for lacking empathy.


Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , on July 2, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

I could just be super sensitive and whiny because I am on day 5 of PMS with spine crushing cramps but…I swear if I have to be ASSAULTED one more time by some shiny happy people post about mindfulness or visualization or ‘make it happen, stop being a victim’…I AM gonna start removing spleens with a rusty spork.

And what’s worse than the true believers of this sunshine spewage are the ones who spew it, almost with a question mark tone, as if they want to believe it, need to, but aren’t sure if they do.

Guess what? Life just often sucks.

My meds aren’t working. Lithium is destroying my self esteem and life. My mother, who leaves her bedroom twice a month, has lost 40 pounds sitting on her ass just drinking Kool Aid with artificial sweetener. Meanwhile, I drink nothing but water and run around after a 7 year banshee 24-7 and I just gain weight. Fuck you, lithium. I want off the stuff. I can’t even remember the last time I had a sexual thought that wasn’t wishful thinking or forced. I’m far from mania so I just want lithim gone, lamictal’s got the mania part under control.

As for anti depressants, I don’t have a clue. My tried and true has failed me. My Wellbutrin mixed with the others makes me nod off if I take it any time other than bedtime and half the time, by then, I am so drained from the spawn and her posse, I forget to take it.


And yes, it’s making me bitter and I wanna smash everyone else down like a bug if they are doing well and have found something, no matter how idiotic I find it, that helps them…Because I am petty that way. Depression is a selfish, petty, vindictive bitch of a disorder that turns otherwise decent humans into venom spewing monsters who want to set rainbows on fire and clip the wings off a pegasus and shoot ricin laced arrows at adorable cherubic cupids.

Life is ugly.

But even when I am not hormonal and off in the abyss…I still find all this pom pom waving positive attitude stuff like an assault against my senses. We tag things for having swear words or self injury triggers, so why the hell can’t people just tag their sunshine spewage so I know to avoid it? It TRIGGERS me. I become hostile because I have tried it all and NONE of it works for me and it’s not that I am simply negative or unwilling to change. I am an individual and one size does not fit all. So when repeatedly assaulted by all the pom pom waving and reminded how it does not work for me so I must be a freak…

It adds to the depression. Which isn’t helpful. And since things aren’t tagged with shiny happy labels, I never know what I am walking into when I click until after the damage is done.

I know, what kind of awful human being finds positive thinking a bad thing? Hmmm. The person who spent 20 years trying to positive think her way out of therapy, shrinks, meds, bad marriages, horrid family members, constant financial strife…only to NEVER HAVE IT IMPROVE, EVER. So yeah, I like ‘cautious optimism’. I like expecting the worst and from time to time being surprised when I turn out to be wrong and there are good things and good people out there.

One size doesn’t fit all yet if you’re not a positive thinker, the world wants you to feel bad. As if positive thinking is the only size and any other size, like cautious optimism, is abhorrent. What I find abhorrent is a world that wants us all to be cookie cutter people.

So to be clear…Apologies if I offended any sunshine spewers, take what works for you and I wish you well. Just realize it cuts both ways and if your sunshine spewing makes me feel more depressed…maybe I’ll just stick to what works for me even if you consider it gloomy.

Also…Talk to me in about 6 days when I am likely to be back in my non hormonal mind. I’m really a bitch beast this month. Physical pain makes me meaner than usual.

2+2 equals fish

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , , on June 27, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

I know, I know. WTF is with that title? Just one of those quirky things that happen when you have a small kid. I tried to explain to Spook how it is more cost effective to get 20 cookies for a dollar versus 4 tiny candy bars for a dollar. And she said, “Two plus two equals fish.” And it just hit me as being really funny. Not that I had a laugh or anything. NOPE.

Because pms week has arrived and I am crampy and my emotions are out of whack and like the grown up I am, I am practicing avoidance behavior concerning R. I cannot deal with someone that broken right now. And yeah, he has the successful life and dozens of friends and nice cars and blah blah blah…But the fact he can’t be supportive and he can’t allow me to have emotions without treating me like I am suffering from ebola…He is the broken one. Not the devil but also…Not bringing much positive to the table.

The depression still has a stranglehold, but at least it’s no longer the suicidal depression. MY lawn needs mowed and I can’t seem to get off my ass and do it. But at least my house is only biohazard 2, mostly because, ha ha ha, I broke the vacuum again.

The anxiety and exhaustion are at fever pitch, courtesy of my uber popular kid and all her friends being in my face (even if from a distance) 24-7…MOM MOM MOM MOM MOM. And the kids always asking for our food when I can barely afford to feed my own kid and then I gotta feel like a stingy monster for saying no, I can’t feed 5 different kids every single day.

I still haven’t had my lithium level drawn and checked. I am gonna ask to be taken off of it. Lamictal does fine as long as I’m not on mania overlord…as for the Cymbalta…I think it’s curtains. Maybe the nurse practitioner can suggest a newer one. SOMETHING has got to get me out of the abyss. Like the start of school and oh, R getting called back to his work so I can be free of parts this, parts that, do this, do that. What can I say, I feel indebted and on a good day, ordering shit from home isn’t too taxing. On the bad days, the demands, the expectations…it’s too fucking much and I melt down. And when I am all hormonal and feeling every emotion to the nth degree but I can’t even speak to the man because he will make it all about him being right and me being lazy or too emotional or whatever excuse that makes him not responsible for anything.

But that could be the pms talking. THough after 6 years…I am doubting it. The feelings have remained the same, only the intensity changes. I’ll own that. I will NEVER be okay with people who refuse to accept me, moods and feelings and all, while expecting me to accept their shitty qualities.

Sad to say, the ones guiltiest of this…are my own family.