Archive for the bipolar disorder Category

Restless Mind Syndrome And Pink Cacti

Posted in anxiety disorders, bipolar disorder, depression with tags , , , , , , on May 15, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I haven’t accomplished fuck all today aside from making some youtube video clips and refilling ice cube trays. My motivation is on the side of a milk carton back in the ’80’s. I went into the kitchen to do one thing, got distracted by two other things, then the beeping microwave reminded me why I had come in there in the first place. Damn lucky Jen gave us the microwave with a working timer, had I gone blank distracted like that with the old one, the house could have caught on fire.

My mind keeps spinning and churning so fast and so much, I’ve decided to call it Restless Mind Syndrome. I had the Restless Leg thing when I was preggo and it was disconcerting as hell, like your legs moving without input from your brain. It was quite terrifying at first and thank pegacorn it went away once she was formally evicted from my uterus….But now it’s my mind that is restless and it’s not connected to my limbs which is why I can’t seem to accomplish anything. Start, stop, forget. Oh, the forgetting, I am so sick of them blaming the depression. I have brain damage from that interaction years ago which is why I forget things literally 3 seconds later, that is organic, not some branch of my disorders or meds. I am DAMAGED IN THE BRAIN. I’m the only one who seems to accept this as a fact. What I want and what is are two different things, though. And while those Shriner kids are adorable and I am so happy for them for banishing the word ‘disability’ and doing amazing things in spite of it…That isn’t me. My brain is my CPU and OS and it ain’t running right and it is no longer supported for updates. I am compromised. I hate it, I wish I could deny it, but…it is what it is.

I got some bad news. My mom had a mammogram yesterday and they told her that the results were bad. She had a benign fatty lump removed 2 years ago and now it’s back, bigger and more suspicious looking than before so the doctor is worried. Not worried enough to get her in before June 6th, though, ffs. That gives it 3 weeks to spread if it’s malignant, wtf, the healthcare here is a fucking joke and they are fucking malpractice mavens. My mom is 70 and while I know the reality of losing your parents is coming my way…I hope not too soon, my daughter isn’t ready to lose her grandparents even if I wish I could take them to Six Flags and lose them in the crowds. Ha ha ha ha. That happened to me and my cousin when I was 8, we went there so mom could see Eddie Rabbitt and we got split up and it was dark and closing time before they finally used the PA system to tell us where to find our adults.

I think today is just gonna be a wash. My night fucked up my day again since I woke up and then couldn’t get back to sleep. And scumbag brain is busy dabbing and not giving me a properly ordered list of what I should be doing right now in which order.

Curious about the pink cacti? Make your way to the bottom of the page.

Pink cacti, my ‘put on fast shoes to run outside’ shoes. Hideous but functional and only a buck.

Wish me luck, I am going to call that place about the job interview possibility later on today to follow up my email. I will either seem overly aggressive or sincerely interested. I’ll roll the dice, I really want this gig.


Done in 70 Seconds Or Less

Posted in bipolar disorder, depression with tags , , , , , , on May 15, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms


It costs maybe two minutes of your time to cheer up a little girl struggling with life right now.

Please and thank you.

I posted a couple of mindless chatter videos of my own cos, well, hypomania.

Check it out, it’s like driving by a car wreck and trying to look away but you can’t and it sickens you but still…you look cos it’s not something you see every day. Neither is me looking non haggish and sounding optimistic and SMILING WITH GENUINE AUTHENTICITY. Smelling salts may be needed afterward.

Brain Drain

Posted in sleep disorders with tags , , , , , on May 15, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Well, I woke up almost 2 hours ago and haven’t been able to get back to sleep. I guess that power ninja nap (I didn’t see it coming, the melatonin kicked in so fast) for 90 minutes recharged me enough to be awake. I shouldn’t be surprised that I zonked the way I did. Time in the petri dish, a child with extreme ups and downs, dealing with my own abject failure as a potential employee than going to war with my father…It was all one big brain drain. Though I can’t help but wonder if I’d have stayed asleep had I not had multiple kittens playing feline death match with my legs as the arena. Claw marks are not conducive to sleep.

I kicked them out of my room because I couldn’t even eat my microwave popcorn in peace.They burgle fruit, veggies, ice cream, popcorn. The only foods I have found they absolutely won’t eat are baked beans, stuffing, and the cheap ass food I’ve been buying them. They are so adorable yet so distracting. Even now one of them is clawing at my door.

It’s raining out, I can hear it clink clink clink on the broken window AC unit. Normally I find rain a calming sound. Tonight it just reminds me I’m kind of cold. My kingdom for a 5 day stretch with sunshine and temps in the 70’s so my mood can gain some ground.

The insomnia/sleep disturbance is driving me bonkers. I keep replaying my mom jumping down my throat earlier for daring to mention being spaced out due to lack of sleep. Not liking either of my parents much right now after their treatment of me yesterday. And it’s not like it was anything new, they’re always on my case, running me down, it’s all they have ever done, all the while insisting this is normal family behavior and the way to express love and concern. That’s why when my dad came at me, I said, “A NORMAL PERSON WOULD HAVE SAID (THIS).” I know my family is not normal or remotely mentally healthy. And that was confirmed by every counselor who ever met them when my sister and I were going through major episodes and the family counseling thing was brought up. Dad appeared once, then said no more so it was the three of us, and the counselors all said, “Wow, Niki, you really are the normal one.” THAT has to tell you how FUBAR my family ties are.

I’m not particularly tired, my brain is actually starting to rapid cycle. I could use some buspar but then I’d have to open my bedroom door and the cats would stampede in and it took me long enough to herd them out.Scumbag brain keeps reminding me that 6:45 a.m. comes way too soon so I should be sleeping. But tomorrow nothing is on the agenda except puttering about the house and hoping I can get my shit together enough to do a little more chiseling at that slab of stone known as my hoarder-esque dining room. I guess that is the biggest reason I always feel so rushed to get to sleep. Because if I wake up several more times as usual and can’t get back to sleep, then I’m right back to night fucking up my day. It causes me anxiety which causes worse insomnia, round and round we go.

And there is that whole hell spawn thing, and neither of us being morning people, so mornings here can get pretty contentious. No rush for that. But it’s only 6 more days then summer break. Where the contention will simmer and stew for 3 months while she screams I’M BORED, DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT, MOM, IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT. Oh, summertime.

Maybe I’ll start getting some quality uninterrupted sleep once the rigid daily routine is off the table. Maybe pegacorns will rescue me from Armpitopia. Anything is possible, I suppose.

From Hypomanic To Splat In 20 Seconds Flat

Posted in bipolar disorder, depression with tags , , , , , on May 13, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I was reduced to going to a wordpress forum trying to figure out this new editor v the old one and I got lots of ideas. None of them worked. So I just searched my own blog ‘not sucky old editor’ and damned if my prior issues come up along with the solution. Blah may be gone, but she is still helping me. Miss ya, lady.
Chiseling. It’s not just for sculpture art. When you’re stuck between depression and hypomania and being flat out exhausted from lack of sleep and strung out on unexplained anxiety…you start doing little chores that have snowballed over days or weeks or months. And for each spot you chisel, you look up and realize…this is gonna be a long project, definitely not done in a few hours or a day.
So I just chisel away at the stuff and try not to be too harsh on myself. I’ve had the place looking spotless and still people griped about something so I may as well go at my own pace. Others disagree and tell me i just need to rip off the bandage and get it done with now. Well, for me, that energy has been depleted by my hours of chiseling during the morning after getting less than 4 hours of sleep.
It will get done. Eventually. Since I have no one offering to help, this is what it is. Chiseling away at the stone snowballs the size of VWs that were born of winter depression and inertia.
Splat is coming at me like a speeding train.
I am to the point where my chisel hand is exhausted and I just need to rest. Like, sleep. I got so little I find myself looping off for a moment then wondering why I’m in the dining room…except I’m not in the dining room, i just lost track of time. Like micronaps, I suppose. I don’t like it. But the plus side to Splat following a hypomanic bout is that I should sleep fairly well tonight even without melatonin or benadryl.
I won’t hold my breath, however. Sleep disorders don’t just get cured cos you’re tired as fuck.
A friend…
send me some Pepcid since I’ve been having so much trouble with reflux and my stomach. That was just a kind as hell gesture. It means a lot to me, when people listen to me. My sister heard me griping that my feet hurt cos the insoles in my shoes had come out and I was griping about my sleep mask coming off during the night, so she got insoles and a snug fitting sleep mask. That means the world to me, when people give the ‘little things’ credence.
Just like my first husband. He picked out a $1000 diamond ring but I told him I wouldn’t be caught dead in it, too gawdy. The one i liked had a heart shape and three small stones and only cost $499. He surprised me by buying me that one and it meant so much to me. I’m used to people deciding their tastes should be mine. So when someone listens to me and respects that I know what I like and want…It gives me warm fuzzies.
Is fresh hell. I despise this shit, just did dishes yesterday, now got another sink full. I should have at least enjoyed the meal I cooked to dirty all the dishes but I didn’t and I fed the leftovers to the cats cos the baked chicken was bone dry and gross.
Then I don’t need to make decisions, worry about dishes, and be nagged about not being stick person thin.
I fucked up earlier…
Because I am just so tired and such a space case, I posted my random blog to my mental health blog. I’m too lazy to remove it, though, even if people scurry away cos for whatever reason, they prefer my pissed off woe is me rants about being a head case.
I am giving up on trying to figure out people, it’s pointless, like trying to figure out what tags make people read your posts. It’s so fucking random every damn day, I…I just quit.
I am soooo
thankful it’s half sunny and sixty and dry out today. That cold wet gloom was driving back into the rabbit hole. Least today I’ve been up and about, around the house, anyway. I’ve been blogging, I put in a job app (and pray to god they don’t view it as some sort of affront, I couldn’t remember if they said my app would be on tile 6 months or a year. My thinks it’s the 60’s where pestering people with apps and pop in visits actually makes them want to hire you. Sometimes that level of aggression is actually frowned upon, not that he will ever accept that reality.)
My brother finished my lawn for me. I burned him 2 cds so he kind of owed me. I did 3/4 of it. Him helping with that has enabled me to do a few things inside that I’ve been wanting to do but just couldn’t push that particular boulder up the hill. Today I did some stuff, not as much as I had wanted, but considering how tired and spacey I am, it’s amazing I got anything done. I could have just gone back to sleep after Spook went to school. But trying to sleep when hypomanic is like banging your head against a wall. It hurts and it only hurts you so just stop. Eventually exhaustion takes over and you’ll nod off, on purpose or by accident. This morning I got that last extra 90 minutes after taking a double dose of Buspar with some benadryl. I just faded away…It was quite lovely. Until the godawful alarm went off.
And I like that Icon For Hire song that is the alarm tone. I just fucking hate mornings.
Chiseling some more…
I just remembered that one of the big jokes the kids made at my expense in school was that I needed a chisel to remove all my make-up. (To which I told them it wouldn’t do any good, I sealed it in polyurathane.)
Here I am, washed out, no make up, chisel in hand, each hour a slab of granite for me to chip away at never to create anything, just to survive.
I’m hella bleak. Cool.
Ignore the typos…

I am going to, I wrote it on wordpad then pasted it once I got my precious (said like Golem) back then pasted it. I don’t have the energy to correct it. I am a human typo, deal with it.
Oh and the title…
is a misnomer as the hypomania has lasted over 24 hours so I didn’t splat in 20 seconds, I just thought it sounded cool. Peace, out.

Spooky Sockhands could use your help, Guys. Just a click of a button or mouse….

Manic Monday, Chapter Two

Posted in bipolar disorder, depression, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on May 13, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms


Bedtime at 11 ish. Up at 1 a.m. Awake til 4:45 a.m. Up with alarm before 7 a.m. This has become my new despised normal but this week…it’s not grueling and I am not exhausted because…hypomania. My dad called first thing, then came over to gripe about my yard needing this and that done to it, and I didn’t even get panicked when he decided to come inside and use my bathroom then insult my housekeeping.

I think this is a point most people don’t touch on much. Bipolar people have pretty strong psyches. It’s not like we’re shrinking violets who submit because someone says we have to and we don’t want to displease them. Half the time we are in such a fragile state, we will do whatever it takes to avoid the paranoia and panic attacks that make us feel more vulnerable and weak. But when we are ‘up’, everything changes, right down to, yes, perception of things that usually make us fall apart so fast emotional shrapnel flies. Today I feel strong and solid mentally and so I cope better. I know this is part of the manic depression cycle so it will come and go but I do love when it visits.

It also kept me from throttling him when he started in on my about getting a job at McDonald’s. No, not a job, but  THE SAME SHIFT AND SAME DAYS MY BROTHER WORKS SO THEY DON’T HAVE TO DRIVE HIM AND HE CAN RIDE WITH ME. I told him I want overnights. They only run drive thru after 11 and I think two nights from 8 to 10 pm ish I could deal and Spook would only need a sitter for when she was sleeping. I don’t worry about when I will sleep. I haven’t been working the last 2 and a half years and I still don’t get decent sleep so catnaps work for me. What I do NOT want is working 5,6 days a week for 3 hours a day. With my anxiety, it is best if I go in and get the work week over with so I can breathe and regain equilibrium. I am just so fucking sick of him telling me what to do when I am damn near 50 years old. But I am also feeling pretty shitty cos half the people I know who got jobs ended up getting fired or quitting, and already even with a bad current reference, they are getting hired for new jobs within a couple of weeks and I am getting nothing.

Thing is, even if they hired me tomorrow, it won’t help me right now. The cats are running low on supplies, the water bill is due, the car needs gas…Not like my dad will help me on any of that even if I paint their shed or whatever to earn it. That’s why I post our paypal link, in hopes some kind soul will help out with five or ten buckets to help keep us afloat. I know it annoys people and it makes me look like a money grubber scam artist but I am pretty much an open book. I mean, 9 years of blog archives so my story is consistent. Facts always are. I post my disconnect notices, my account numbers (I was hoping since I did that someone would have helped with Spook;s school pics since they could have just ordered them and not need to give a penny in cash). I am transparent as I can be. (And I also accept directly sent stuff, so I’d suck as a scammer unless cat litter was currency.)

I did this video last night because muggles have asked me what mania is like. Now this was hypomania, not full blown, but same idea. Ten feet tall and bulletproof except with hypomania you’re too scattered to remember where you put your Kevlar so eventually you’ll take a hit and it will likely be mortal to your hypomanic good mood.

And no, I am not giving up, I am gonna keep supporting my kid’s dreams of a vacation and all I beg of you is, just share it on social media. Help this kid get something she wants out of a life.

Mania is wearing off, I am gonna be one tired little ghoul here soon. But the ride was good while it lasted. Think it means my Abilify needs increased, though, dual mood stabilizers usually murder the hypomania if they’re working right.

Have a great Monday. Play me off… (And for the love of pegacorn, could someone do a METAL version of this song THAT DOES NOT SUCK?)

Hypomanic Sunday

Posted in bipolar disorder, depression, Uncategorized with tags , , , , on May 13, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Well, after working my ass off with household chores, my Mother’s Day closes with my kid having thrown something at me and physically attacked me while screaming like banshee. All because her cat got into a fight with my cat. The cats are fine, there was zero excuse for that kid to hit me and throw stuff at me and have such a screaming mimi. So now she has all week without her devices to think about how to get her temper under control. Guess that comic I posted this morning was prophetic. It truly hurts to be trying this damn hard, to get so little credit for trying to do better and be better, and to have a kid who has no gratitude and attacks me physically as well as verbally…If I didn’t have the strong psyche I do, I’d never have survived Hurricane Spook.

It was otherwise a good day, though, so I am not gonna let her bad behavior rob me of that. Would I have preferred if someone had taken me out to a meal and done the chores for me as a gift for today? Sure. But that’s not my reality.

My reality is…I went hypomanic today and got stuff done without it feeling like a soul depleting body draining chore. I did 4 loads of laundry, folded it all, did dishes, swept, mopped, cleaned cat boxes, made lemonade, cooked a decent meal. Not like my brain could even stay focused on three minute video clips. When hypomania sets in, the ping pong balls in my brain that are thoughts become warp speed and doing bits here and there ends up getting stuff done. I tend to go with it cos I never know when the hypomania train will come around next. I love days where I can do the work and not feel sick or leaden or worn out or like trudging uphill in molasses. This is what I wish I could feel like all the time. This is the ‘good mania’ as if any mania is good. But hypomania means you’re thoughts are spinning but low functioning or they are spinning and you’re totally high functioning. It’s not like full blown media where you blow rent money on new shoes and rack up thousands in credit card debt on stuff you don’t need, then you go bang some dude you just met, then you drink a fifth of vodka on your own, then find another guy…

Oh, man, how thankful am I for Lamictal and all mood stabilizers? How grateful am I that even though it took 15 years and six doctors, I was finally diagnosed and medicated properly. Bad manic can stay away. Good manic should visit more often. Hell, I was even writing today, poetry, random, mental health blog…I feel tired and sore now so I definitely am looking forward to bedtime but for now…I feel accomplished.

And also a lot dismayed that my kid still hits me. Not like she used to but she’s still violent in ways that disturb me. Few others see it but those of us who have know, something is not right in her head. This has been going on since she was 2 and punched me in the face and broke my glasses. I keep hoping it’s some sort acting out cos she has no dad in the picture, or it’s hormonal, anything but the strong possibility that she has bipolar. I remember the anger, the tantrums, the punching, slapping, and throwing things at people when I was overloaded…then I’d calm down and it would be like, wtf happened, did I do that? WHY did I do that?

I will leave you with some links in case you use the reader and missed something you might want to see. Happy Sunday and Mom Day 🙂

Her page. And yes, this is all her, she told me I suck at fundraising cos no one likes me so you’ll be dealing with her, not me.

And a plea from me. Just passing it along on social media can make a HUGE impact.

Bedtime Tango

Posted in panic disorder, sleep disorders with tags , , , , on May 4, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I zonked out at 8:30 p.m. Woke again at 9 ish,then a little after 10. Now even crampy and exhausted,I cannot slow down my brain.

I have so much to get done while Spook is staying tomorrow night at her cousin’s… it is making me toss and turn and get tangled in bedding then I throw off the blankets. Sit up mid panic attack,pissed off,worn out and frustrated.

Like some demented bedtime tango.

I doubt it would have me so bent if it were not for my dad nagging me to clean my shed while the town has dumpsters out til Sunday. I don’t know why he cannot leave me alone and butt out. I even tried to talk to stepmonster about how he is stressing me out and rather than read him the riot act to let me be…she wants to play hey,I know,I have to live with him,I am the poor lil woman who cannot speak up to daddy. Yes,she calls him daddy,soo gross.

Digressing. I try to fight my injustice collecting but that woman is such a fake and everyone knows she is in charge there so her poor victim act where she cannot even speak up to help improve my mental health…she is not my blood,they are not married, she has no legal rights to Spook. Once dad is gone I am gonna remember all the times she could have helped stand up for me and her place in our lives is gonna be tiny.

Fyi I went off on my dad on the shed matter and said I would deal with it. He called FOUR more times to bug me about it and does not a hear a word I say. He reminds me of a fellow 72 year old man child who when disagreed with starts name calling and saying,go to hell. My dad just doesn’t do it on Twitter.

Ok, I vented and it got me through the panic attacks til the meds kicked in. Maybe now I can sleep.