Archive for the bipolar disorder Category

In My Dreams

Posted in bipolar disorder with tags , , , on August 17, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

So normally my sporadic sleep and dreams result in me not to wake up even when the dreams are particularly nasty.

Last night…Nope. I had this hella nightmare where I went to see the doc nurse and she just tweaked my Xanax without regard to my Trintellix and sent me on my way so I demanded to see Dr. B and flung myself on his desk and begged for him to be my doctor again. Which of course lead to them all having a chat and declaring me batshit and needing locked down. And I was pounding against the plexi glass at the looney bin screaming that I was not a danger to myself or others, I just MISS my doctor who actually makes me feel like more than a checklist of symptoms. I was screaming that I HAD to be out because I needed to take my kid to some function and how dare they put me in a position of letting her down just because I spoke my mind…

And then it got better as the shrink, the one I like, took me and Spook on this supervised outing and…at the end of the night, he and doctor nurse got together and decided, based on the word of those around me, that I was suicidal and they took my kid and locked me back up and all I’d ever done was the usual sarcastic “I wanna drink bleach rather than go to this family shindig”….

If dreams mean anything, I think this one means I should keep my true thoughts to myself lest they lock me up. Even a 24 hour hold could make me look like an unfit mother and honestly, I know my stepmonster would be all too happy to step forward and agree and take my kid away. I know this because she’s told people as much. And if it were a matter of my kid going hungry or being beaten, fine. But because my house isn’t spic and span and I don’t have a surplus of money..those are not reasons you call someone an unfit parent.

Or am I projecting my own fears?

When she got back from church last night, I was informed there was an incident on the bus where Spook just wanted the other kids to be quiet, which even the grown ups agreed with, but when the others failed to listen to Spook and obey…she screamed, ‘FINE, I AM GONNA GO HOME AND TAKE 4 MELATONIN AND KILL MYSELF!”

I was horrified. And pretty sure melatonin won’t kill you by itself. I keep all pills out of her reach, anyway, and only meter out the bedtime dose, APPROVED BY THE PEDIATRIC NURSE PRACTITIONER. I have never told her or anyone, out loud, aside from psych professionals, about any inclination toward an overdose on pills. Gargling razor bloods, drinking bleach, juggling chainsaws…NEVER a word about pills. If anything, I discourage her from taking anything even tylenol, because I know what a hell the medi go round is.

I can’t say this is the first time she’s said something about killing herself. She does it often enough for it to worry me, but it is almost exclusively related to people telling her no or disagreeing with or stressing her out and she comes out of it pretty fast then wonders what the problem even was. Sound familiar to any bipolars?

I’m gonna see about counseling for her, but god knows what she will tell them. And I watch enough TV to know half of the psych professionals are just as fucked in the head as the rest of us and everyone’s opinion varies so one person’s unfit is called my upbringing which I thought compared to other kids wasn’t too damned shabby. These days it’d be called neglect and abuse. Then again, these days, not giving the snowflakes an iphone makes you a bad parent.

I am not taking her outburst lightly, but at the same time…She may be getting this drama from TV or her friends or whatever, but I know it’s not coming from me. Others won’t believe this, of course, it’s always the sanity challenged who take the blame, but the one thing I know better than any of them…is my kid’s manipulations and tantrums. Once she was home and off that bus, order restored mentally, meaning no excess noise…she was right as rain. Again, that tune sounds familiar. I may not threaten to off myself when the noise overwhelms but coming undone and only regaining equilbrium once the chaos has ended…I definitely know that tune.

So that is what I am dealing with today. Wondering how long before some well meaning person turns me into child protective because my kid is a drama llama and a compulsive liar. She evens lies about her lies when caught red handed and has no qualms. I feel guilty for hitting a possum, ffs, so lack of conscience, once again…not coming from me. Something is wrong with her and I will try to get her help and get if figured out because yeah, they DO put 8/9 year olds in juvenile psych ward-prison places as my sister’s friend’s son found out this year when he hit his teacher the third time. But wait, I can’t do shit until after her well kid check up in September because her dad’s insurance only pays for one a year and I need the ped doc’s referral for therapy or a shrink but first Spook will have to see the nurse practitioner who will then have to refer to the actual doctor…

Fucking ridiculous.

Plus side, I worked out my deal with the power company so they will keep the juice on and I won’t be in debtor’s court. I am sweeping up bug corpses which means the treatment is slowly working its magic. Speaking of sweeping, I need a new broom. I was bashing the twitchy not quite dead bugs so hard, mine broke in half yesterday. (Bring on the jokes about how did I ever get my kid to school without my broomstick.)

Okay. Purge complete. I think I see doc nurse tomorrow. After last night’s dream…Not sure how honest to be, even if I keep my cool. Truth can set you free or get you locked up, if dreams mean anything.

It sucks have the Marquis de Sade for a brain. Daily torture is so not my thing.

Splat Happens

Posted in bipolar disorder with tags , , , , , on August 14, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

It was inevitable after so many consecutive days in the dish being the functional person I am expected to be. It’s why I could never hold a job for more than a few months at a time, even part time, because faking it and the anxiety just tap me out.

Had a decent run, 4 days or so I didn’t feel like dying.

Today has been awful. Instead of running errands while my kid was at church, I lolled in bed til 11 am. Then I got up and took my meds and…lost the lottery and got very ill with neausea and stomach cramps and bathroom trips.

I’d like to say it got better but my mood went Splat when all the kids started bullying Spook (or so she claims, I witnessed nothing other than some mouthing off about who was going to play with who and of course, the tweens and teens are always gonna ditch the 8 year old, cruel but true.) I started feeling incompetent as a parent. My mood went splat, and the dark thoughts crept in and are still hanging around.

I was even gonna let my kid have a friend sleepover as a before back to school treat. Instead that girl, who is ten, fell victim to all the rumors the older girls were saying (we have lice, fleas, bedbugs, etc) and suddenly she had to go home. Odd how she spent 7 nights here over the summer with no complaint about any of that shit but the second a teenager she wants to fit in with says it…Spook and I go under the bus.

By then all the drama had given my a migraine complete with more nausea to go with my lingering med nausea and I was grateful the girl went home. Enough with the drama and stress.

Early bedtime tonight. Brain needs a reboot and hopefully tomorrow will be better. As long as R doesn’t beckon and expect me to feign this functionality thing again. I can feel the seasonal affective disorder settling in even if the psych professionals say it doesn’t start this soon. Every August for years since having my kid, I’ve warned the docs the meds need tweaked cos I could feel the seasonal splat coming (my knees start aching when there’s an abrupt weather shift and 98 degrees one week down to the sixties the next week…Yeah, knee ache city.) Every year I warn them, every year they ignore me until October when it’s too late because I’m already half way down the rabbit hole.

I am gonna try to advocate for myself when I see nurse doctor next. But if the splat decline keeps going, I may well be a basketcase by then and all this progress made on Trintellix will have been undone because others expect more of me than I can safely give without it costing me tremendously psychiatrically.

Fort Blankie time as soon as I tuck in the spawn. Sometimes when your mind gets this blackened..all you can do is retreat and reboot and hope it’s a cyclothymic low that will shift upward after some rest.

I can’t spend much more time with a brain sending me such bleak self abusive thoughts. That sadist Fifty Shades of Grey character could learn a few things about cruelty and torture from my brain.

Why It’s Not So Easy To “Get A Haircut And Get A Real Job”

Posted in bipolar disorder with tags , , , , , on August 9, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

After being hunted down last night by R because my prepaid droid and his contract iphone apparently don’t get along and I got his texts but he didn’t get my replies…He is apparently back to the old ‘real’ job thus today I am trapped at the shop. The first four hours I made Spook suffer with me, then I arranged for my sister to fetch her so at least part of the day wouldn’t be blowing-out-my-brain stressful.

Not a single call. Not a single person coming in. Not even a to-do list from R. Just sit here and watch shit on my computer and try not to lose my mind from boredom.

What’s the worst part is…The Brain Bugs Are Back. Being in the dish, in a place where people could call and come in…My entire body feels like bugs are crawling all over me even though they are obviously not.

This irrational anxiety has plagued me throughout my life, from school to dating to working to marriage to raising my kid. It is crippling. My every instinct wants to lock that door and drive home fast as I can because likely the brain bugs will subside or at least stop putting on heavy metal concert with my central nervous system as the mosh pit.

And this is why I am on disability and have been for some time. Because employers need reliable logical employees who aren’t convinced bugs are crawling all over them simply because their central nervous system and brain chemicals have gone haywire. They don’t want to hear about your months long depressions where you consider one shower a week your major success story, let alone being able to get out of bed, think coherently, and be productive to their schedule and standards. They don’t care that some days your memory fails, aphasia sets in (using the wrong words, kinda like when I said get the frogs off my skin and meant to say bugs), your hands shake so you can’t do anything that requires dexterity with your hands. Forget your stomach churning and all the trips to the bathroom, that’s an inconvenience and makes you more trouble than you could ever be a value as an employee.

Perhaps for some considered to be slackers, it really is as simple as getting a haircut and getting a real job.

For those of us with the mosh pit of battling brain chemicals inside our skulls…

It’s not that simple. It’s not a matter of sucking it up or getting over ourselves. We are not lazy. We take no pride in our inability to be high functioning. We are embarrassed, filled with shame, we have low self esteem to begin with and the world robs of us what tiny bit remains because we can’t meet their standards of the norm.

I used to think it was okay because for thirty years I’ve had all these mental health professionals aligned with me, saying, yes, your disorders are crippling and making you unstable to hold a job, you NEED disability checks.

THEN I got and read shit like this:

How would an immigrant Donald Trump fare under the neo-Nazi-approved “legal” immigration plan he endorsed last week? He’d probably be targeted by his own deportation force.

Columnist Catherine Rampbell writes that the “economy-crippling bill”—which opponents have noted is really an effort to cut down on non-white immigration and make America white—“change[s] how ‘skills’ and ‘merit’ are defined, replacing our current employer-centered system with a points-based one” that awards points for “age, education, and extraordinary achievement.”

Original link to that is HERE

Yeah, Yeah, Morgue, you’re an American, what’s the big deal? The big deal is it sounds like financial eugenics. And first on the chopping block are gonna be those of us who by society’s standards ‘don’t make any contributions’. Paranoid? Yeah, so were those who saw the holocaust coming. How’d that turn out?

Perhaps I am proving my own point here of just how whacked out the brain bugs have made me.

And let’s not forget the real bugs that reside with me and Spook. In the two minutes it took me to put ice in my cup and pour water, a roach had crawled inside. No one should have to live that way simply because their priority is feeding their child and keeping a roof overhead. So…The CAMPAIGN continues. Thanks to those who have donated, and please do if you can and spread the word if you can’t, maybe there’s some kind person out there or maybe even two who don’t know me but get…Living with bugs is not a choice and unfortunately the goverment won’t allow me to sell a kidney to pay the Orkin guy.

And just remember…having a disability is not synonymous with laziness or not putting forth effort. Luck of the draw and we with legit disabilities got screwed. But then I guess the masses can’t understand it. But if it happens to them at some point…they will. And they will find out what a cruel place the world really is.

Grossed Out By Roaches? Ours don’t even pay rent!

Posted in bipolar disorder with tags , , , , , on August 9, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

YEP. I am doing the FUNDRAISER THING because our landlord won’t pay for an exterminator and my limited budget has maxed out on OTC bug killer. So before you judge me as as being skanky or dirty or whatever…


That link again is

Single mom, on disability because of brain damage, minimal child support slumlord neighobor and we..simply need help, $5, a repost, share, spread the word on social media…we are an 1/8th of the way donation wise to being able to get a pro bug slaying company to kill off these unwanted pests.

On the bipolar/anxiety front…I did dishes, swept, srubbed, cleaned the bathroom, scrubbed freezer and fridge (amazing how stone cold fury motivates, my kid has a knack for startind drama amongst her trailer park friends and I have the audio files of her kicking, screaming, name calling, and punching walls to prove how awful she is when told the word “no” and all the older girl did was come tell me Spook had lied to me where she was going to be and was in an area where she could get hurt, but in Spookland, that;s being a traitor, thus I guess I have myself a Trumpling.)

Very atressful day. Then my new phone was working ‘right’ while R hunted me down cos he’s getting his real job back and wants me at the shop tomorrow so I got bitched out by him even though I WAS replying to his texts but turns out…smart phone requires you dial 1 plus area code plus number, which I didn’t know and pegacorn knows how much of my prepaid time was wasted on that crap…

I agreed to appear tomorrow, though not with a huge chip on my shoulder. I have to take the spawn with me and it’s…more stress than I need but whoaa, he gave me a car stereo and installed it thus I apparently owe him shop tending AND a kidney…

Rubber Ramada ain’t looking so bad as it would keep these toxic beings away from me….

I am toughing it out cos I have witnesed the loyalty of my handful of friends who even if they can’t donate, share the link to my campaign. I don’t want to lose you guys, love you all to smithereens.

Soooooooooooooooooooo…IF you can spare five or ten in my effort to evict and eradicate the roaches so no one calls me a bad mom for being broke….Please please please. If you can just repost, share, or pass it on on social media….Please. If not for me, but for my kid because I damn well know 99.8% of people cringe if visiting and they see a single bug. WE didn’t choose this but if I can’t spring $500 for the Orkin man, I sure as hell can’t afford first month and deposit and moving fees and utility trasnfer fees to get a better address/home.

And now…melatonin/Xanax combo is telling me it’s beddy bye as I have to be up at the crack of ass to go to the shop and repay his highness for the car stereo and his labor installing it.

Some people make us with mental issues think Rubber Ramadas seem pretty damned appealing.


To The Brink

Posted in bipolar disorder with tags , , , , , on August 8, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Once again…My kid and I are sick of living in a roach motel so even if you have it in your heart to skip a $5 mocha foamy hazelnut coffee-esqe six pumps no fat cuppa whatever to donate or simply SPREAD MY CAMPAIGN ON SOCIAL MEDIA…Please. And YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE, every single person who has shivered at the sight of a bug inside someone’s home and been repulsed yet done nothing but pass judgement as opposed to trying to help with the problem…Yeah, those people. I know those people real well, they’re called family and friends. Too ready to judge, but unwilling to even throw a $4 bottle of boric acid my way.

Not that it works, I’ve been making pastes and traps and sprinkling the concoction, it’s like putting a Snoopy bandage on a chainsaw inflicted wound.

Oh, yes, I have my bitch on. Because after two and a half months of my kid being home and the last four days of birthday part(ies) misery and all her kids bickering and I ruined her life because the devil girls’ dad won’t let them play with her because I am monster…

Forgive me if my manners are out the window. I am two steps from signing into a rubber Ramada. My self esteem has tanked because if this roach motel is the best I can do for my kid, she probably deserves better than me. And it’s all about the damned money, not my inability to care for her or unwillingness to work to be rid of the problem. Always with the damned $$$$ and it’s NOT BLOODY FAIR to be judged as some sleazeball or lousy parent just because every cent you do have goes into feeding and clothing and sheltering and transporting the child to school.

For those who think only slobs who are dirty get bugs, think the fuck again. My sister, The Queen Of OCD Clean, still had to hire Orkin for their old house because old houses have cracks and crevices and bugs move in and eviction notices don’t work for them. So sick of the judgments and assumptions. Amazing people couldn’t wait to donate when it was for vet care for a sick pet. I love my animals and am eternally grateful to everyone who helped when they needed them.

But three days in and not a single donation when I am trying to provide a more fit home for my child?

People have some bizarre priorities.

And don’t get my over stressed panicky bitchiness wrong…I realize 99% of my friends are struggling same as me. What they (you) have that I don’t is that social networking thing. I loathe Facebook and just to start an account to beg for donations seems shadier than Zuckerberg himself. So I thought I’d reach out and say “Look, this problem is so bad they could deem me an unfit parent just for being broke” but…Two people have given an inkling they care even if by simply reposting or empathizing.

I guess I’m just that unlikeable, I don’t know. If unlikeable is a synonym for “frustrated, depressed, a nervous wreck, and pissy that the world is a vapid place of judgment and little empathy”…Yep.

I am the devil.

It will get better once she goes back to school and my anxiety lessens. The bugs will start to move out once it gets cold a few months from now, I can keep putting ineffective Snoopy bandages on and…

I never should have started the campaign, I knew it would just leave me more depressed and disillusioned. Like this glaring reminder that if I were more socially skilled, more of a social butterfly, I’d have people who cared and would share even a repost or whatever or hell, even a “I’m glad I’m not you, Morgue, that shit sucks”. Alas, I am just…me. No social skills, no job, nothing special going on…

WAIT! I know YOU! That’s the depressive self pity talking. Yeah, well, go to hell, self pity. I am in a lousy situation but I am a decent person 89.9% of the time and I try 110% for my kid all the time. So if being dealt a lousy hand in life means I’m a loser, then I know I am far from alone because outside of the 1 percenters…Most have their crosses to bear and it doesn’t make them bad people. Least they don’t have to share mental space with The Depressivce Self Pity Monster, though.

Jerk doesn’t even pay rent.

UGH! To My Chagrin, it’s fund raising time again

Posted in bipolar disorder, gofundme campaign with tags , , , , , , on August 7, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

This is my campaign.

I have done the math ten ways from last Sunday and next Sunday and…I cannot pull off the one thing my home needs the most: an exterminator.

The landlord won’t spray and every time someone moves out, the bugs move in with me. I had it under control 2 years ago after spending hundreds on over the counter stuff (Advion gel and Combat gel bait are THE BEST) then my skanky neighbors moved and I pleaded with the landlord to at least have his guys spray a line between our homes to block the bugs from coming here and he didn’t do it.

My kid had a friend sleepover for her birthday and I was MORTIFIED when the kid went to get a cup from the cabinet and a cockroach fell on her.

This goes beyond me being a less than stellar housekeeper as the roaches were here when we moved in 8 years ago and even then the landlord said nope, he only sprays once before people move in, after that, it’s on us renters.

Just by doing this campaign I am embarrassing myself and probably putting it out there that I am a bad mom thus some well meaning but still an asshole could claim I am unfit and they could take my kid away from me.

But this time…This is necessity. Even if you’re in the same boat as me and can’t donate, spread the campaign link on social media and share, share, share. I’m doing all I can with the stuff on hand but it’s not killing the nest and even the bug foggers have failed. I need a professional and they’re not doing it just because my kid is cute and I can be flattering. And if you don’t trust internet people doing the right thing with the money, feel free to just mail me the bug killing products. That is all I want. Not an iphone or ipad or better car or nice clothes. I just want my kid to be able to fetch a cup or plate without a bug crawling out of the cabinet.

So…if you can, I hope you will. If you can spread the word, yes, please. And if you can’t do either, it’s ok, cos I get it.

I haven’t done a campaign in a long time because I try to make do with what I’ve got but this bug problem…

Spook and I need help.

Drama, Llama, Fiction, Perspective

Posted in bipolar disorder with tags , , , , on August 5, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Been in text communication all day with my sister about Spook’s bday shindig in Bumfuck tomorrow. It has created sooo bloody much drama, not just with me being mental and allegedly (erm) difficult…But all her friends and their kids want to attend even though not invited cos their kids are essentially teenagers over 100 pounds which a miniature pony cannot support safely..But by telling them that much, they all got pissed at her as if she was saying their kids were fat, when in fact, they’re older, much older, than my child and their weight would harm the mini pony…

Toss in more drama as her meth head friends B and J are homeless along with J’s elderly sickly mom and they have a sick dog they had to take to the pound out of mercy cos they couldn’t even pay for euthenasia and they are living at a motel but running out of money and about to be homeless so they are calling on any friends still speaking to them for assistance and housing..And J is hardcore Satanist so she refuses to approach any church affiliated assistance program and now her sick mother is actually in the hospital due to breathing problems…


Supposed to be about a damned party for a child turning 8 but because my sister is so popular with so many friends with spawns and they invite themselves it’s all become a damned drama AND I am supposed to feel so sorry for her meth head satanist friend…

Satanist J had her baby boy the SAME day I had Spook 8 years ago. He popped positive for drugs and was swept away by child protective hours after birth, I witnessed it from the doorway of my maternity room. They also had an older son previously removed from their custody because he was ‘difficult’ and they just turned him over to the state…But kept on buying computers and moving all around and driving about and using drugs which they obviously had ways of paying for (J had sex in exchange for drugs and B has stuck by her for over 12 years through it all). Honestly, they’re really shitty people, whether they mean to or not. It’s gone beyond shitty choices or bad luck. This is just who they are. She has stuck by her sick elderly mom but ditched both her sons without even an attempt, feeble or serious, to get them back.On what planet am I ever gonna say, oh, poor babies, having to choose meth over your kids, how awful for you.

By my estimation, the only victims worthy of empathy or sympathy here are those poor little boys and J’s elderly mom who, while blind to what a trainwreck her daughter is, is actually a very sweet woman. Being truthful though, the state taking those kids away was likely the best thing that could have happened to them. And that makes me more upset because goddamn it, if you choose to bring a child into the world, you either BE A PARENT or you do the right thing, AND LET A CHILDLESS COUPLE WHO WANT TO BE PARENTS ADOPT.

I am on my judgey soapbox but so much of my life was spent fearing or avoiding parenthood or being told my body wouldn’t serve its purpose so I was not gonna be a parent…Throwing away even the option of letting a child being given to a good home…Just…Ass trash.

Of course it’s all started drama with my dad’s side and I wasn’t given all facts by my sister who has a blindspot for her friend Bty and her bf and his 3 teen daughters, all who appparently want to attend even unvited. Spook adores Bty and even if I don’t, my kid is entitled to her opinion. My dad’s redneck brood being rude to her appalled me so I stepped up to defend and ask that they all merely be polite and keep their insulting opinions to themselves. THEN my dad tells me it’s not just Bty but the other 4 and the three teen girls have even had a padlock put on the refrigerator because they STEAL EVERYTHING EVEN FROM THEIR OWN FATHER. So dad and his woman are scared to have those brats in their house even to use the bathroom lest they steal the faucet fixtures and my sister is pissed they are being ‘that way’ thus my mom is outraged and me asking everyone to think of Spook cos it’s her day and just be civilized for her sake has them mad at me…

It sounds beyond ridiculous, right? As my adored friend Mr. Mumple has commented, we could be anything on line no matter what we claim (loosely paraphrased) but honestly…this is my reality. All this drama and contempt and anxiety…this is my family dynamic, the absolute norm. Because dad has a new family, mom and my sis have their family faction, and I am over here on my own with my child trying to make ends meet and stuck in all their bullshit and no gives a damn it’s for a child turning 8 years old…Nope. It’s all a damned cockswinging constest over who has more money, better belongings, better address, who doesn’t have a drug problem, who was or wasn’t invited…I can’t even keep up with right or wrong there because…

IF YOU WERE NOT PERSONALLY INVITED VOCALLY OR BY PAPER OR EMAIL INVITATION…SHUT THE FUCK UP! POLITE PEOPLE SIMPLY DO NOT INVITE THEMSELVES THEN GET PISSED OFF WHEN TOLD IT IS ‘FAMILY ONLY’. My sister tried to explain that to them but it did not good which makes her friends even more horrid than my dad and his crew. Rude is rude, period dot com.

So what was “I can do this, I am a badass,I love my kid this much” anxiety has become the weight of the world stress on me because now I’m at the center of orchestrating all this drama and trying not to let a scene start and I am not even gonna be in my own car and able to flee for the exit if shitstorm vesuvius erupts with all these factions.

I keep telling myself, not about me, for my daughter, I love her more than my own ability to draw breath…But in all honesty…with my mental minefield…Love for my child simply isn’t gonna prevent fireworks if a certain line is crossed. Like those thug teenage girls stealing from my dad and his or my idget half brother insulting Bty and setting off my sister or M’s son coming only to be told his 110 pound body will kill the pony if he rides it but he still insists on doing it or has a fit and of course his mom M will insist if the other kids get to, then he has to and it’s ok if the pony dies…

I liked it better before I had the golden grandchild thus putting me dead center in the family mine fields. And the weird thing is, NONE of them aside from me and my sister, are remotelty aware that this is more misery for everyone all around even if it’s being done in the name of Spook. They are just such cockweasels.

Maybe putting this post under bipolar was misleading but, anxiety is pretty much a staple with bipolar and right now I’ve got a monster hybrid going on that makes me want to crawl under a rock and hide. Earlier I told my sister she could tell dad and his clan that the Taliban captured me and Spook and were holding us prisoner just to escape this debacle.

I wasn’t joking, I was wishful thinking. Yeah, my family is worse than the Taliban. That ain’t drama, that is, as the show Daria first coined, Sick Sad World. My world and my kid has been sucked into it.