Archive for the bipolar disorder Category

The End Of All Days

Posted in bipolar disorder with tags , , , on May 25, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Okay, so maybe nothing that dramatic but it is the last day of school which means for two and a half months…my already fractured brain and fried central nervous system will be held hostage and assaulted daily by Spook and her merry band of desperadoes.

On one hand…Yay, no dragging ass out of bed to meet her school schedule.

On the other…her yelping to play with her friends at 9 a.m. seven days a week.

I tried to get her into a summer program. Apparently “Is there a scholarship available because I can’t afford full price” means you don’t even warrant an email reply from the Y. Maybe I can find things for her to do, but I just resent being driven from my safe space to escape all these kids. Great, she has friends, she is popular.

It just never ends well. Her, around her friends, means she becomes more mouthy and disrespectful and argues with me every time I say no to an extreme I don’t even see when her friends aren’t around. And to make matters worse, these kids show up before 10 a.m. and are still knocking at 8 p.m. wanting her to play which makes it stressful for me to give her a supper time, a bath time, a bed time. The minute they show up, she goes off if I say no.

And as I told her yesterday when she said she didn’t like me because she mouthed off and I made her come inside…My job is not to be your friend, it’s too teach you right from wrong and keep you safe.

AND IT IS A SUCKY SOUL EATING THANKLESS JOB.

In addition to pre summer dread is the post summer dread when I have to pull blood from a stone to get her new school clothes and all the supplies then attend all the start of school stuff that get me so stressed…Two and a half months away and still enough to give me a stress stomach ache. Not that my mental health care provider seems to think any of this is a problem cos last time he saw me 4 weeks ago, I was having a less insane day thus he took it to me I am doing much better, here’s a nurse, talk to her, you’re A Okay.

NO I am never gonna stop harping on that. 24 years of psych care and never once was I shunted off onto a nurse. She might well be more understanding, hell she could suggest the magic bullet that gets me six good months, IDK. I just think it’s shitty to stick a patient in an 8 month seasonal depression in a position of feeling like they’re not even worthy of seeing their own doctor.

The anxiety is getting to me all over the map. I woke at 3:30 this morning amidst a pile of cats in my bed and realize…my softer mattress is helping my back pain, it’s playing bed Twister to avoid crushing a cat that is making me wake up all sore and feeling crooked. But there was no getting back to sleep immediately. I tried for an hour and a half. Stroked a kitten hoping purr therapy would work. By 5 a.m. it was 0.5 Xanax time. Which gave me a half hour to nod off and ninety minutes to sleep, give or take. When my sleep is disrupted like that, it usually means I am going to have a really shitty mental health day. It’s not the amount of sleep I get, it’s how much uninterrupted sleep I get. Not that the professionals understand that, either.

I took her to school, put gas in the car, and paid car insurance on line. Now I am gonna watch the season finale of Special Victims Unit because I do so love when fiction mirrors reality and I am reminded what this country has come to. A bunch of hate mongering assholes who think Muslims are all terrorists which is akin to saying all people with blue eyes are Hitler petri dish mutations.

I may be mental but the world is a cesspool of ignorance and it doesn’t take sanity or a brain surgeon to see that.

Condition Not Critical, Apparently

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

So here I am, essentially DROWNING, in a depression that has carried on far longer than a year and my current med regime is barely managing that (the Wellbutrin increase has done nothing to help with the crippling seasonal issues still in play due to the cold rainy weather)…And my shrink’s office calls the other day to tell me the doctor will not be in on the day my appt is scheduled later this month so they are putting me with the nurse practitioner.

WTF? That is as good as saying, “Meh, you’re not doing so bad, you don’t need an actual doctor.”

No offense to the nurse practitioner. I know many of you I speak with have gotten your visits and meds from psych nurse practitioners. This is just…a first for me. And because I have had only ONE mental health day in ten days in which I wasn’t essentially on shut down due to the weather enhanced depression…I’m feeling pretty dismissed here, logical or not.

This comes after the doctor twice informing me during our epic 15 minute long visits that all my years on the dreaded Seroquel have left me with a tardive dyskinesia thing of my lips. I never noticed it and it was never picked up on at the other place where I got stupid Seroquel and as inept as they were, they actually did do the testing for it every three months. So now he drops this new condition, a gift from my ‘fixes nothing but gives your more problems’ pills, and says he’s very excited about a new drug still being tested that in six months he wants to give me if the data is good…to fix the tardive dyskinesia twitch. The one I didn’t know I have or don’t even care about because HELLO, CRIPPLING CLINICAL DEPRESSION THAT HASN’T ABATED MUCH IN OVER A YEAR!!!!

I am let down, frustrated, and honestly after last night’s political vote on killing the ONLY good parts of so called “Obamacare” and the good old boys’ celebrating with a beer party the fact that they’re essentially punishing women as being female is a pre-existing condition, being mentally disordered essentially means you’re not entitled to care, period and should probably just be shot so they can have a damned Cristal party afterwards…I’m ranting. These are scary times. I despise discussing politics and besides, my views aren’t really a secret. My father is pretty much Trump minus the tan and money, that mentality is just universal and I don’t care what political party it belongs to. It needs to die in a fire.

The fact that I was okay in my former political ignorance but am now drawn into it because the powers that be me managed to make it uglier and more evil sickens me. Healthcare should not be some hot button, it should not be considered a luxury, having ovaries shouldn’t bar you from free choice, and oh, THEY STILL WANT VIAGRA COVERED BECAUSE A STILL PENIS FOR GROSS OLD DUDES IS WAY MORE IMPORTANT THAN MENTAL HEALTH CARE OR CARE FOR FEMALE CONDITIONS.

Just makes me even uglier to talk about it.

And the sky is falling in my personal corner as well because R apparently got his new dream job but wants to keep the shop going thus..I’m the whipping boy expected to sit and occasionally deal with a person with an actual brain but mostly go into a coma or rage due to idiocy and oh that thing where being in the dish around people totally renders me function-less. For smokes and to buy my kid’s school pictures. Stellar. And to add to my punishment I woke at 3:30 a.m. in a panic still traumatized from being at the shop on Wednesday for 7 and a half miserable hours with my kid there due to early dismissal…I haven’t been able to write. My sleep is fucked up. I have stress heart burn that won’t go away.

I am not doing well.

But that’s okay, throw a nurse at me right when I need to try a new anti depressant especially with my long history of bad reactions and side effects. This is gonna totally help me. Insurance people might have a beer party because nurses cost less than the shrink, I suppose. Hell, maybe this will be one of the world’s little twists where the nurse is more competent than the doctor. It’s deviation and I am feeling weak and I don’t like it. And not really being given a choice other than waiting six months to see the actual doctor…Makes it worse.

And this is BEFORE they’ve managed to upend what tiny bits of decency were in the original ACA. Does anyone know how truly screwed we are?

IF I were in a non depressed non seasonal affect place, this all would annoy me, piss me off a little, maybe even make me want to jump in the ring and maybe sign some petitions or join a march against all this ignorance and idiocy. But because I am mentally sick (yes, SICK, like the flu, food poisoning, Lyme disease, all those non fatal things that still render you unable to function properly and the world gives you a pass because it’s physical, but mental sickness, pfft, doesn’t exist.)…I am coming unhinged and feeling scared and vulnerable and uncertain and I can practically hear Trump in my head telling me I really should just kill myself because soon he will be so powerful he’s just gonna kill all the mentally ill anyway.

Sounds crazy and irrational, doesn’t?

BING BING BING, we have a winner. I AM MENTALLY SICK.

Fortunately I am also a sarcastic bitch with a morbid sense of humor so even while Trump is whispering at times…it’s totally the SNL Alec Baldwin version. So accurate and not really over embellished. Funny douchey Trump in my head I can live with.

And for the record, I am not gonna kill myself for anyone. I’m holding out in hopes all my meds and side effects do it for me.

I’m doing that ‘being a dreamer thing’ wrong, am I? Frick.

Fuck Knuckles

Posted in bipolar disorder with tags , , , on October 13, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

Two good days, two blah days (likely not helped by the wet gloomy weather). Today I woke up and immediately was besieged with sinus drainage that kept me coughing and choking. All the while my spawn kept asking what was wrong. Cos ya know when you’re choking on sinus fluid, THAT isn’t self explanatory at all. I HATE this newfound sinus problem I didn’t have in my younger years. If this is a peek at my future aging process…Z Whack me already.

Fuck knuckle old age ailments.

So today started out gloomy and cold and I figured it’d be one of those “I feel like a loser but can’t get out of bed” days. Instead...I went a little hypomanic and got a few things done, fixed a problem at the shop that got the texting chihuahua off my ankles, cleaned up my kid’s room somewhat, I washed dishes (ya know, by the the third time of rinsing off a fork when you need a clean one, it’s kinda time) and I ran errands for R to earn smokes. Got the kid homeworked and fed (leftover spaghetti made it easy) and now…I’ve caught up on all  my shows, am pissed off cos the fuck knuckle world series means no new Empire for awhile, and I am hoping the support check comes tomorrow cause I am down to my last trash bag.

But the brain behaved, in a way where numerous times, I thought, wow, I feel GOOD. Not ecstatic or whirlwind productive, but just…Good. Sun out, cool breeze, good for mental state. Sucky for watching stuff on an LCD screen cos the glare is horrendous.

I’ve had a few good days and already feel like my freak out in demanding an earlier appt with the shrink was idiotic. But I know how fast the tumble and crash comes on, so a preemptive strike is not idiotic at all. It amazes me how a few good mental health days can make me forget for the most part that my brain is a pain in the ass and I almost convince myself I am normal, this is IT,I am cured.

If only.

But no boohooing. That will come soon enough, no doubt.

P.S.

Clown lives really aren’t a big political issue as most of them are killer clowns so this whole “clown lives matter” thing is pretty fucking stupid.

And people mock the Flying Spaghetti Monster. Not nearly as freaky as clowns.

 

Why Is Basic Hygiene So Damned Difficult?

Posted in bipolar disorder with tags , , , , on September 30, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

So my stupid ass committed to something last night during a period of “I’m not feeling so awful, I can do this social thing”. It’s just lunch with R, and he’s buying, but now…I don’t want to go.

Because it means basic hygiene is in order.

Now, I have been doing better with the showering thing (which is so hard during depressive bouts) but I am still struggling with the will to bother with truly grooming to appear in public.

I try to make sure my clothes are clean, I wear deodorant, and my hair is brushed out or at least in a messy updo with a clip…Beyond this…For almost two years now, I’ve not given a fuck. Seriously.

On the rare day I feel “up to it”, I admit, wearing some make up and perfume, nicer clothes, it does feel good.

What feels shitty is that NO ONE ever comments on me taking the time to give a damn. It’s not even that I care what they think or that I need their validation.

It just pisses me off that these people have zero problem ragging on me redundantly for “letting myself go” or “looking rough”.

Guess what? Depression is a “wasting away” disorder. It affects your appearance, your skin tone, your posture, your facial expressions. You go so long feeling so downtrodden and exhausted…It takes a toll and you look defeated. Fake smiles and societal pressure to feign laughs (which further drains you)…You feel defeated, too. Like depression is mopping the floor with your soul as the mop head.

It does not matter how fierce you are. It does not matter if you have a rebellious “fuck you” personality.

It doesn’t even matter if your current med regime is “half ass working”.

Because…

DEPRESSION.

I’ve hit my seasonal onset with the rapid shift to cold weather and days of damp gloom and now…I see dirt under my nails. I know my hair needs washed, my legs need shaved. But I can’t begin to process this because the simple task of digging out clothing seems daunting. I don’t wanna. No one cares except to insult me, so why should I exhaust myself with basic hygiene when I could use those limited resources to battle anxiety or whatever.

Am I just pessimistic? Lazy? Have a bad attitude?

Could be.

Doubtful, though. The cycles remain the same no matter how much therapy or mindfulness I engage in. It’s a pretty predictable cycle, too. Bipolar cycle. And every year around August I start reminding my doctor of how quick it comes on, the seasonal depression, and maybe the meds should be increased ahead of time to ward it off. Instead, every doctor tells me we’ll discuss it in October once fall comes, and by then, the descent has already begun. They just don’t listen. They think it’s all about that sunlight bullshit when that’s but a smidge of seasonal depression.

I am flustrated (yes, FLUSTRATED, it’s a hybrid of flustered and frustrated) with all this crap.

On the plus side, Spook is staying at my mom’s tonight so my brain can rest.

On the negative side, I am probably going to be so exhausted I will accomplish fuck all then feel shitty about it.

No matter how many changes I make or how much progress I make…It all goes back to the cycle of bipolar.

I will go to lunch simply because I do so love the chicken strips and white gravy at Dairy Queen, and I can use the drive thru rather than sit inside with dish dwellers.

I don’t want to, though. It requires too much work and effort and it’s exhausting. I am tired of being tired.

Awhile back I made a comment about being psychologically exhausted and R tossed out, “I work ten hours a day, what the hell do you do all day?”

It took everything I had in me to bite my tongue and not unleash my pent up fury. No one feels shittier than me that I can’t hold down a job. No one feels shittier than me that no matter how much I bully myself, I can’t break the cycle of bipolar depression and anxiety. Battling that shit day in and day out feels like a JOB. One without pay or benefits or even a pat on the back.

Clean clothes, deodorant, a brush through the hair and that’s it. I’ll be out of bed and dressed. If more is expected of me…

Fuck ’em and feed ’em to the fish.

Chat Room: Feedback Wanted

Posted in bipolar disorder with tags , , , , , , on September 28, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

Okay, so first off…mental status update: I actually stayed up until almost midnight last night. Because the melatonin was taking forever to kick in. Irritating laying there tossing and turning while scumbag brain churns and keeps you awake in spite of using every relaxation technique the counselors ever forcefed. Then when I started to drift off, it felt like falling down a black hole, so I’d jolt awake in terror. Yeah, rough night. Rougher morning inasmuch as I had a bitch of a time dragging my butt out of bed and getting my kid’s lunch ready, making sure she was clothed and delivered to school. This sudden onset of summer to fall transition and the cold is kicking my ass. But I am out of bed and doing fuck all cos well, I did my two days in the dish and I EARNED a lazy respite. Besides, it’s a school improvement day so the spawn will get out two hours earlier than usual. YAY.

Now…This is where I want, NEED, your input, anyone who reads this blog, sporadically or regularly. A few of us Volatile Femmes seem keen on the idea of a chat room for mental health support. And also to blow off steam, be it talking about movies or music or whatnot.

Be honest. TALK TO ME, my Morgueticians. Would anyone else be interested in a safe place to simply type and hang out even if we’re having a quiet time and say little?

I know chat rooms are so yesterday and everyone’s all obsessed with Fuckfacebook and Twitter and such BUT…Some of us have the attention span of gnats at times and other times, we are chatterbugs. Some of us can’t handle an open phone line or never ending text alerts due to noise sensitivity.

A safe space, a quiet space where we can’t even hear each other type…I find this appealing. It would NOT be standard issue “we’re not professionals but you can talk to us only about mental stuff” chat. It would be invite only (you’d submit your email addy for an invite and you can create a throwaway if you don’t want to use your real email) so we could control the trolls, so to speak. Word of mouth from all of us could increase interest and invites. We could have our own community, not just on wordpress, but in a safe space.

I’m no expert on starting these things. I’m an idea person. Occasionally my gnat attention span can follow through. I just know how useful chat was in the past for me during rough patches, or even manic patches or stable patches. I was even a moderator of one chat room for several years. (How I loved using my hammer to kick out the trolls!)

I want eclectic. I want empathy, kindness. I want humor when we have it.

I would also love to name the room in honor of our recently departed friend, Blahpolar. Her blog featured a “freshly depressed” graphic and I think that would be an AWESOME name for a chat room. In her honor, but also in honor of wordpress offering a way for us all to come together via blogs. It’s not promoting depression, but instead offering a tongue in cheek way of viewing this crap.

So…Show of hands. Or comments since I can’t see your hands. Would anyone else be interested in this sort of thing? Even if you just click like or peruse…FEEDBACK, PLEASE.

Because it’s not just for you as an individual. There are times you will encounter someone who pulls you  back from the brink.

Other times…YOU will pull someone else back from that bring. And let me tell you…THAT is an amazing feeling, helping someone who might otherwise have been lost to the symptoms of whatever mental ailment haunts them. It works both ways. It helps us, it helps others, and in doing so…we might even feel a release of a good brain chemicals without taking a single pill.

So what do you say, people? Repost this, share it, let me hear what the tribe thinks. This room would be all inclusive of all mental illnesses. No one excluded, not a coffee clatch of bipolar only.

Just…The tribe and new members to the tribe. Surviving. Together.

Now comment, yay, nay, fuck you Morgue…Or I’m gonna have to roast a pegacorn on a spit.

Do it to save the pegacorn, PLEASE. They are, after all, an endangered mythical species.

There Is Nothing Easy About Suicide

Posted in bipolar disorder with tags , , , , , , on September 10, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

Today is not simply a memorial to our fallen tribe leader, Ulla/Blahpolar. It is a day to draw attention to suicide and suicide prevention. Having said that…I’d like to go on record and state…I am so bloody sick of society’s dismissive “suicide is the easy way out” view.

No. There is NOTHING easy about suicide. Not one who falls so low they succumb to it, nor those who are left behind wondering if there was something else we could have done to make life seem worth living. To say suicide is the easy way out makes as much sense as going the long way around on a road of glass shards to get to the house next door. It’s non sensical and it’s rubbish. To reach the point where suicidal ideation becomes intent, well…It was not an easy journey.

It’s the end of the road.

And further angering me is when some ignorant person says “oh, committing suicide just means they were weak.”

NO NO NO NO.

You see, Ulla/Blah is the second person I’ve known on line to succumb to self destruction in search of peace. Back in 2004, it was the creator of the msn chat room I basically lived in. Kathy fought and fought some more. She was a mother to many of us, a friend, a sister, a jokester. She did battle to the best of her ability. And then she couldn’t battle a day more.

The truth is, there comes a time when whatever your demons, mental issues, drugs, etc- you hit the wall. I am lucky to have not hit my wall, merely come close. For those who do hit it…There’s no weakness, no selfishness involved. Their strength reserves are empty. They simply can’t go on anymore. It is not our place to judge them, blame them, or transfer our inability to understand suicide onto their actions.

Our place is to make sure their legacy lives on. I did not know Blahpolar as well as some did, but she was a good friend to me in a way that worked for us both. I will miss the link dumps and swapping bad puns with her. I will miss her heart which she poured into her posts, her humor, which was there even under the pain. I will miss her brilliant mind. And in an effort to keep her memory alive, so to speak…

I wrote this poem today. This is for Ulla/Blahpolar.

The Warrior

Like the warrior you were, you used every weapon in your arsenal

and valiantly you fought the demons within

Until those weapons dulled, crumbled- still you fought some more

You did battle without armor, you charged in without a shield

taking on shrapnel and bullets and wounds

You didn’t quit, didn’t give up, no surrender

you merely regrouped

Until one day the battle went on one day too long

you chose to retreat, waving a white flag

you laid down your arms

and finally found much deserved peace

Gone but not forgotten, always revered, imprinted on our hearts and minds

always you shall remain

Our hero, our heroine

 

The Effing F Factor

Posted in bipolar disorder on June 8, 2016 by morgueticiaatoms

Okay. Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth and gas was a nickel a gallon…or in depression time, some point a few weeks back…Leslie did a four fun fact post and nominated me to do one too. So…I am gonna do some fucking fun fucking facts factoring in fucking…I really need those ADD meds,  cockweasel insurance company. Grrrr.

 

Four names people call you other than your name:

Nik, Morgue, Kwee, bitch

4 Jobs I’ve Held

waitress, assistant store manager, retail associate, bartender

4 Movies I’ve Watched More Than Once

Airheads, The Long Kiss Goodnight, Friday the 13th Part 6:Jason Lives, The Bone Collector

4 Books or Authors I’d Reccommend

The Outsiders has always been my favorite book so S.E. Hinton…Robin Cook…Patricia Cornwell…Laurell K Hamilton

4 Places Visited

Hollywood, CA, San Diego, CA, Baltimore, MD, Dayton, OH

4 Things I’d Rather Be Doing Right Now

Drinking a Mangorita (times a few), eating lasagna my sister cooked, smoking a REAL cigarette (free evapor’s ok, thank you coupon, but…real deal is better)…and…Um…WRITING MY DAMN VAMPIRE NOVEL.  Cripes, it’s been 9 years and I still can’t get the fucker done.

4 Foods I don’t Like

Only four? Wtf? I hate peppers, red, green, whatevs, they taste and smell like sweat and my body digests them like shards of glass. OUCH.

I don’t do Chinese food. Or Japanese. Or Thai. Or, well, anything more ethnic than a plate of nachos with a pitcher of Margeritas with Mrs. R.

Raspberries. The smell/taste/even candy of that ilk makes me gag.

Broccoli. Nope.

Four Fave Foods

Pizza (MEAT and SHROOMS!)

Cheeseburgers

Spaghetti

Beef Jerky

Four Shows I Watch?

That just depends on the season, now, doesn’t it. Mostly repeats during summer. My summer line up is Rizzoli and Isles, Containment, 19-2, and then a new one called American Gothic premiers this month. It might suck. IDK. During fall premiers…my dance card is full. Fuck off. I have too many shows to watch that are way more interesting than any mere mortal. (Too truthful? Meh.)

Four Things Looking Forward to This Year:

Being legally rid of the donor

Being legally rid of the death trap

new season of The Flash

HALLOWEEN!!!!!!

Four things I am always saying…

FUCK.

Bloody hell.

What the fuck.

DUDE!!!!!!

===========

Most of the time I am as interesting as watching paint dry. But if you like to huff paint, I might be your ideal date.

I’m out. Fuck the fun facts. All I have here is a bucket of FUCKED UP.

I do wear it well.