Archive for the depression Category

Dear Inept Psych Professionals…you make me laugh

Posted in depression with tags , , , , , , on October 16, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Anyone who’s read this blog more than a time or two has likely come to the conclusion that “Hey, this Morgueticia person is a manic depressive WHO REALLY LIKES HALLOWEEN YEAR ROUND.” For those who meander here by chance, you might think it’s some gimmick or byproduct or whatever. Fact is, I am a ghoul, have been since I was 7 years old and started reading Fangoria magazine and watching slasher flicks. (Not saying much about my parental supervision level, I guess, but at least my mom taught me to fear the real monsters instead of shit like Jason and Freddy…ya know, like politicians, pedophiles, presidents.)

More than once I’ve had the psych professionals who revolve in and out of my ‘treatment’ come to absurd conclusions that this love for horror stuff is some byproduct of my depression therefore unhealthy and negative. But for me, if I sat around all the time watching rom-coms and unable to go to the restroom with a friend in tow, that would be true mental illness signs.

I’ve had a rough life of it, always being on the side of the grim reaper and the loud heavy metal music with the major message of “fuck it fuck you and fuck this all”, loving it soooo much and feeling giddy every time I acquire a new knives in a blender song or Halloween chotchky. It’s aggravating and insulting to be told that your very personality is a side effect of mental illness. I don’t find skulls and tombstones sad, at all. I’m also not wandering graveyards with a shovel to dig up corpses. I have a healthy balance between the dark and the light in my life, I think. I’ve got some cat knick knacks and Furbies sprinkled along with the gravestones and skulls. I don’t think my love for horror stuff has a damn thing to do with my mental issues since I started watching shit like Dark Shadows in Kindergarten-and loved it- and I had zero clue what depression or mental illness was.

So hey, psych professionals who do more damage than good when you make ridiculous conclusions based not on one’s personal experience and past, but on what the masses consider ‘gory’. YOU MAKE ME LAUGH AT YOUR INEPTITUDE. And furthermore, labeled me schizotpyal because I like vampire stories a little too much-you’re idiots.

Fact is, as my seasonal depression is kicking in the changes in weather and I am feeling overwhelmed and gloomy on the inside…

Yesterday and today I haven stumbled onto something that is really bringing me back to life, mentally.

The Haunting Of Hill House, from Netflix.

Creepy, intriguing, horrifying, laden with family dysfunction and drama and death, death, haunting, death, deceipt…

It is a cacophany for the eyes and ears of everything that makes my heart skip beats in a good way. THIS SHIT CHEERS ME UP!

Maybe others aren’t wired that way and watching this stuff would be indicative of mental illness.

But if something makes you happy and it doesn’t harm anyone else…How dare anyone call it bad wiring or depression artifact or pessimism.

I had paralyzing nightmares the other night where I was a kid trapped on the road in the semi truck with my dad, driving in huge traffic situations thus inducing panic attacks and I woke sweating and relieved that it was a bad bad dream. THOSE are my nightmares. The stuff that really scares me. And maybe it shouldn’t but it’s a hell of a lot more likely I will find myself trapped in traffic or a family reunion from hell than I will come across a dude with melted skin and knives for fingers.

So I’m gonna finish my Hill House binge and enjoy it immensely and then I might go put out some more fake cobwebs and fake blood on my dismembered Bratz doll car wreck display in the yard. I may even add some fingers to the cauldron of eyeballs and skulls the kids like to stir.

I’m very clear on what is real and what is not and the real stuff scares me far more than any corpse ever could. Have you seen who is leading the U.S. these days?

That’s an American Horror Story we can’t wake up from.


Moving At The Speed Of Corpse

Posted in depression, seasonal affect disorder with tags , , , , , , on October 15, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

I normally say I am moving at the speed of snail but snails actually do eventually get from point a to point b. Today, though…I am a non moving corpse. I can’t get warm, I can’t get motivated. Another rough night of sleep and wake frustrates me to no end. My ‘magic bullet’ sleep cocktail worked 3 nights and now..Back to wake and sleep and wake and sleep.

How long can one with mental issues maintain the pace of never being fully rested? Because I’m going on about 9 years now and it’s maddening. I am so tired of waking at 2 a.m., 4 a.m. and other odd hours for no apparent reason. Though when my kid woke me this morning and it was only only 6 a.m., I was filled with both relief cos I’d been stuck in a nightmare and dread because, ugh, another day to endure and try to gather my bouncey ball thoughts into some semblance of functionality.

Corpse speed lead me to believe as soon as she safely on the bus I could return to the warmth of Fort Blankie and just go back to sleep cos I could use a little more rest. But thus far, my body is aching and my brain is spinning and there’s no comfort or peace.

The high functioning days, while bolstering my self esteem, exhaust me and it takes awhile to recover. So while others strive for that happy high functioning space, I prefer to aim for mediocrity. Shambling about, accomplishing a small goal or two, getting the bare minimum done, and not overtaxing my mind. Because my body can mow the entire lawn, move heavy furniture, pack in ten bags from the car without dropping anything, and it isn’t my muscles or back that end up hurting.

It’s my mind. It just takes too much out of me. I need my happy medium but since the weather has changed and seasonal affective disorder is kicking in…I don’t expect to see much happy medium or even functional mediocrity. If I can put on warm clean clothes and cook myself a meal for the first time in days, I’ll call today a win. Because some days with depression that’s all you get and the naysayers have no clue how much even that minor functionality counts.


Posted in depression with tags , , , on October 15, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

So while my mood and energy were low today (I did two days in the petri dish around other people, it drains me as much as the nasty weather) and I’m uber guilty of the ‘is it bedtime yet’ shuffle…Somehow I managed to handle people invading my space to bring the dresser and a Halloween gifty, I dealt ok with my dad and stepmonster, I worked in some play time with my kid, and managed to get BOTH shampooed and bathed. I fed her and the cats but I’m just not feeling it for myself which likely means waking at 3 a.m. for cereal and hoping my milk isn’t expired…

Earlier, I got to feeling so alone, in spite of kind people donating time, kind words, mailing funny cards, buying pumpkins I can’t afford so my kid and I can do Jack O Lanterns together, people traveling pover 90 miles round trip to bring us a dresser…

We’re not alone. Spook and I are blessed to have people who do care about us. Most of them are as broke as we are, but whether it’s a free pork roast or pumpkins to carve or a dresser that isn’t missing drawers and donations ahove and beyond…It counts for a lot. I make a lot of snarky comments about hillbillies and rednecks but mostly because they haven’t done themselves any favors toward breaking stereotypes involving ignorance and well, hatred and some OCD fixation on all things Duct Tape. But ya know what? A couple of Armpit locals have been pretty nice to us, but mostly they let us be and rather than make me feel alone, it makes me feel like the sancity of my safe space is respected and protected.

Amidst all of my gratitude, however and realizing I only feel alone, I am not totally alone…

Fact remains, when it comes to depression…we’re all alone. Because we each have our own ‘brand’ of depression and the feelings that accompany it. We can commiserate, share war stories about depressive bouts and horror stories about medication side effects, we can support each other…

But in those blackened moments when depression overwhelms logic and tells its lies about how we’re useless and wasting space on Earth…

We really are all alone at those moments.

Which makes it super important for us to lean on each other in the wordpress mental health community and be there for each other. I had a tribe here once, and our glue passed away and everyone splintered but…I am still here, I am still reaching out to some of the tribe members, and I am also saying to anyone new who could occasionally use a good rant…

You’re not totally alone. I’m here, I care, and I am all too pleased to remind anyone that depression is a big fat liar and does not define us nor dictate our futures.

People think since I’ve been single 7 years after the donor’s abandonment that I am somehow broken and doomed to crazy cat ladydom (which byw, is happening with or without a significant other cos I love cats)…But my focus is entirely on my child and just surving my mental battles and the financial turmoil. I haven’t given up or closed any doors. I wouldn’t mind a wonderful funny guy to walk in at some point, as long as he’s good to my kid, my cats, and doesn’t expect me to be good at housework.

Point being…we feel alone, and in the depressive abyss, we are alone. But..

Together we are form a comforting glow that lights the path ahead and when we trip over a gofer hold or scrape a knee on a rock…

That’s about as not alone as it gets.

Morgueticia Flytrap and Porktoberfest

Posted in depression with tags , , , , on October 14, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

I could spend some time talking about how our seemingly healthy kittens all died and shattered me and my kid’s heart.(Flea season has been taking a lot of litters since they’re too young to treat with medicine.) I could rail against the system since the state basically told me if the donor or his 9new/current/potential employer don’t report his social security number, it’s up to me to find out where he is working and report it. I could do some self loathing on how I fucked up the power bill with my numeric dyslexia. ( I ain’t joking, they asked me for my kid’s date of birth and I got it all rattled, 09/8/7 but nooo, it’s 8/07/09, and my heart knows damn well when my kid was born but to reduce it to a numerical sequence, on the spot..I should sue my brain for non support as it is giving me the silent treatment.)

Doing that stuff would be formulaic, and I’m not feeling disingenious. We all know life sucks, life is hard, life kicks you in the nards even if you have ovaries instead. And losing pets is tough on all animal lovers and the system is ass trash sometimes and hey, like my old shrink said when I complained about my mental deficits following the Nardil interaction of 2000- “You’re a very smart person, at least you had extra brain cells to spare.”

So how about I do a little big GASP- optimism before the gloom?

Well, okay, so this isn’t optimistic, it’s just factoid but we had a hole in a screen so we were getting too many flies inside. I finally got my hands on some fly strips and hung them…then the other night I walked right into one and since then have been walking around with fly paper glue and possibly some fly corpses in my hair. (Yeah, gross, we’ll get to that in a bit.) Morgueticia Flytrap would totally be my Halloween costume but I already decided to be Medusa, glow in the dark snake headband and all (diy).

We have been SOOOO VERY LUCKY with our current fundraiser to basically keep us afloat since the donor gives zero fucks about his kid. It’s the most successful fundraiser we’ve had and we are so very grateful to those who care enough to help us, be it $5 or enough to avoid power being turned off.I just, I don’t even have the words to speak how grateful we and I read the dictionary FOR FUN. It’s just amazing. We’ve met half our goal and I was musing yesterday how both awful and awesome it is that people I have never met, only interacted with on line or the phone, care more about Spook than her own flesh and blood. It makes me feel shitty for all my misanthropy cos there are some really great people out there. I am seeing this in action and…sporks of fortitude, gratitude, and a spork of foot massage for all. THANK YOU.
Normally I’d take the fundraiser down at meeting half our goal but it was brought to my attention that my kid’s clothes are so small on her that if she lifts her arms, she’s showing belly, and if she bends over, well, crack kills. So if it means her getting some winter clothes, even from thrift stores, please consider a share or donation.

On the topic of good causes and donations…Armpit had Porktoberfest yesterday to raise funds for the volunteer fire department and rescue squad.

Spook begged to attend, which with my aversion to you know, crowds, I was reluctant but…we met dad and stepmonster and my brother there and dad tossed in $40 donation so we all got pulled pork or pork chop sammishes, baked beans, chips, and a drink.

When it started filling up, I dictated we finished quickly and leave cos…hello, crowds, agoraphobia, etc.
Then Spook ran into a little friend and they were doing this ‘beer garden’ thing outside with ‘live entertainment’ (guitarist, bass player, drum machine, and lots of amps) so I sucked it up and sat through some music while they played. I even made friends with a stray cat. (NOT Brian Setzer, and if you get that reference, I love you.) It was a cold gray day so not many were there outside except for the beer drinkers and I endured a rather iffy country-rock version of a George Thoroughgood song. There was, however, this awesome old(er) guy wearing head to toe black, with Johnny Cash emblazoned on his jacket, and he kept getting up and dancing and man…I envied him for not caring that people were laughing and thinking him a lunatic. He was having FUN! I used to be like that.

Of course, in my case, they labeled it mania, smacked my knuckles, and shoved Lithium at me. Back on the day (after a drink or two) I used to rock some Reba McIntyre, Shania Twain, Quarterflash, and Joan Jett at karoake. But once labeled manic and given soul killing meds…That’s me no more. And it sucks. Once I get the spawn off the college or Burger World or whatever, I may just quit my meds and go with the crazy and laughter. I’ll be 55, what will I care? Even though it wasn’t my style of music, I made sure to applaud and encourage others to do so, as well. Music, of any genre, is a gift, and should be celebrated. Plus it was like 42 degrees with no sunlight and these dudes donated their time, equipment, and talent cos they thought it was a good cause. I respect and support that.

So yeah that will be a nice segue into my current battle with Seasonal Affective Disorder…

We went from 90 degrees down to 34 in 4 days. I was hoping for more time to avoid turning on the heat but I’m with my kid. If your feet are so numb, even with socks, your house is too cold. But I can’t help but feel nervous every time the heat kicks on, it sounds like ka-ching,ka-ching for the power company. Thanks to this sudden shift in weather, my motivation and mood have plummeted. I haven’t bathed in days. Not even sink hairwash after the flystrip incident. It’s so cold even with the thermostat at 75 (which will likely jack my bill up to $300 a month all winter, which I can’t afford) and since it’s no longer the simply jump in the shower task but running a bath, blah blah, marinating in nastiness…It’s just too much of a chore. I’m gonna push myself to do it today but…supposedly my sister’s friends are bringing us a dresser and I have no idea where we are going to put it since I only saw a pic, don’t have dimensions, and this means they will be in my safe space, judging my lack of housekeeping ability (it’s the floors, breaking another vacuum really fucked me)…Least the dishes are done. 4 baskets unfolded laundry. Was kinda waiting to see if we could get rid of Spook’s old dresser which split apart and is missing a drawer…And my portable clothing racks all collapsed so I have nowhere to hang stuff, cos you know, ancient house with NO closets.

They were supposed to bring it last week and I was cool cos my mental state was more solid. But it rained all weekend so they couldn’t and now it’s not raining (yet) but my mental state is…meh.

I am TRYING so hard. The stupid traditional system broke my kid’s heart again by doinf this father/daugher-mother/son dance in November. She wants to get prettied up and go to her first dance but pointed out she has no father. I even tried getting messages to that worthless idget through his former employer, through my idget lawyer…I was willing to swallow pride and call a truce if it meant my kid not bawling her eyes out JUST BECAUSE SOCIETY CAN’T GET ON BOARD THAT NOT EVERY FAMILY IS COOKIE CUTTER. She didn’t choose for that ass to walk out and not have anything to do with her.

So I have EVERY intention of taking her to that dance and since I’ve been mom and dad for 7 years all by myself…if the school wants to make an issue of it, then they’re getting sued. I had to ask dad and stepmonster to help with her winter coat and gloves (Goodwill) and they found a pretty little black velvet girly dress and tights she can wear to the dance. Now she just needs some black flats and I gave her my infinity necklace…Plumbing has NOTHING to do with being a mother or father. I’ve known plenty of men who raised daughters alone (like the guy bringing us the dresser today) so it’s also not some “I have vagina, hear me roar” thing. And it kind of meant something when her uncle offered to take her but she said she wanted her mom to take her instead. It was sweet of him, but it kinda goes to show that even with all our struggles and deficits… my daughter and I are truly bonded. Armpit Elementary has NO idea how far this mom will go to make sure her kid’s heart isn’t broken and she gets to go to the dance, her way.

So that’s the bad, ugly, good, polka dotted truth of where I am now. And normally I’d say ‘we’ cos Spook and I are a team, but to me, it puts more pressure on a 9 year old to include them in the crappy stuff like money matters so on’s me. I will take it on because it’s my job, my responsibility, and thanks to some amazing, generous people…mommy-daughter team Spookymorgue might just stay afloat. 🙂

Just cheer me on in hopes I will manage the bathing thing and that my Sauve shampoo gets fly trap glue out of my hair.

Why Can’t I Get My Bleeping Ducks In A Row?

Posted in depression, mental health with tags , , , , on October 11, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

For those who missed it, yesterday was world mental health day and I babbled a bit about it here.

Today it is cold. Another whiplash served up courtesy of that bitchbeast mother nature, to go from 85 down into the 40’s. My sensitivity to temperature and weather extremes leaves me flailing more often than not.

I have a biohazard 5 on my hands with the housework. Guess who broke ANOTHER vacuum? Idk, it’s a gift or perhaps a sign that I am meant to have a maid cos I suck at it all. I’d rather be mowing a lawn than doing dishes, if that says anything.

But let’s add that to the list of ‘ducks not getting in a row no matter how much I boss them around’. It’s like my inner disorganization and outer disorganization have teamed up, parked themselves chained a huge concrete slab, and are daring me even try to get them in a row. I’m not feeling it. And no, it’s not the whiny childlike “I just don’t wanna….” This is anxiety and depression crushing it in concert. By crushing it, I mean crushing me.

My shrink suggested this might help. supplemntal vitamins for focus and memory.
$39..99 plus ship and handling?
That’s half way to costing as much as the works-shitty Ritalin when what I need is the ‘sell an organ on the black market to afford it’ Focalin.

Being scatterbrained is one thing but not even being able to form a checklist of a few things to do because your mind wanders that much…It’s hellish. I am amazed I’ve gotten my kid to age 9 without stitches or some sort of state investigation. Because sometimes, I don’t even notice she leaves with her pants inside out, yet I make sure her hair is brushed and she is fed and has her bookbag and school papers and…I’d love to be detail oriented but because my brain is so cluttered with spinning thoughts yet hampered by depressive indecision…I’m kind of a hot mess. Or train wreck. Or whatever term is ‘in’ these days. I just prefer the term ‘fucked up’, it’s all encompassing and timeless.

The only real feather in my cap was that my stepmonster gave me a 4 pound pork roast that I managed to cook up in the oven with carrots and taters and onions and celery before it went bad. Cooking anything more complicated than a pizza is challenging when you need to be detail oriented.

My ducks are in ten rows, walking in all directions, high fiving each other and quacking incessantly at the top of their lungs. I always loved playing that duckie game at carnivals but even a losing duck got you a ten cent plastic ring or something. My mental ducks…just give me headaches.

Final note- Thanks to all who have donated, you’ve helped keep us afloat for the month and we are eternally grateful. But I did just get a $220 power bill so we’re gonna keep the fundraiser going until I can force the state to hunt down the donor and make him help support his child.

Honestly, if you have to be forced by the state to do the right thing and contribute to your child’s upbringing financially…you’re a shitty person and should lose your parental rights and still have to pay until the kid turns 18.

The “I’m a good man” delusion is nearing a level of requiring medication to bring you back to Earth. Good people pay for their kids without a court forcing them to do so because it’s the right thing to do.

Am I being too opinonated?

Funny, after 7 years of chasing someone so they do the right thing…I’ve earned the right to be opnionated and yes, pissy about it.

I’ll never forget those words the good man jammed down my throat. “This is your pregnancy, but we are having a child.”

7 years later…I have a child and you don’t even mail her a birthday card.

I won’t go so far as to say I am a good woman but I have done right by my kid so that counts for something. Here on Earth, outside delusionville.

Now I’ma try to convince my ducklings to line up at least enough to clean cat boxes and do some dishes.

Pretty sure they all went out and bought big foam middle fingers in protest. Duck ’em.


Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on October 10, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Quick post to say THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to those who donated today and were uber generous. Now I don’t have to choose between paying the water bill, insuring the car, and buying food for a week. Words just can’t speak how much it miss to Spook and I.

That being said…we are far from out of the woods and I hate the ‘needy bitch’ syndrome as much as the next person…If I didn’t have a kid, I probably wouldn’t be lobbying so hard on this fundraiser. But I found out today, through two different sources, that there are AMAZING DECENT PEOPLE OUT THERE and while, they may not know my daughter and me…they gave with their minds and hearts and…wow, just wow. YOU GUYS ROCK!

So until child support is restored…I am gonna keep pushing the fundraiser. If this offends you, well…you have free will to leave the page.

And while yes, my child is my primary focus…there is no financial aid here for pets so I am gonna post a pic of my beloved Godsmack doing her thing, giving me a facial with her scratcher pad cat tongue.

And we have 4 kittens about to be weaned so we need transitional wet food and kitten chow so if you wanna help out…you don’t even have to donate cash to the fund. Message me, I will show you a link to the page on that sells the cat food we need and the food the newbies need, you can send it directly to our address. Many places also offer e-giftcards sent to your email and we’re cool with that too. Asking for help isn’t easy, no matter what you may think. Spook and I are the proud but tortured owners of mega-consciences so if we’re asking for help which makes us feel worse self esteem wise…

We really need a HAND UP, not a hand out.

Consider it, please.

And now it is time for me to pull an old school Metallica and fade to black. For once, I wish the dreams would have a positive message instead of just reminding me of all my mistakes and how useless I am when I can’t even get work as a dogwalker.

OOOOOHHHH I made it past 10 p.m. before taking my knock out cocktail.

It has been a good day, indeed, courtesy of generous people, thoughtful people, humorous, people, and my own refusal to bend and break no matter what is crushing me.

Final awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww moment.

That is sleepy Miss Lacuna. And yes, she is named after the band Lacuna Coil.

Couldn’t you just O/D on her cuteness?

Why Some Have Fundraisers? Because you can’t put a gun to someone’s head to hire you!

Posted in depression, fundraiser with tags , , , , , , , , , on October 9, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

I was listening to the radio this morning and they were talking about all the scammers out there ripping people off and it turned my stomach. But that was going on long before there ever was an internet,sadly. It is a vile aspect of human nature that many have no conscience and will take the last dime from an elderly woman or a morsel of cookie from the mouth of a toddler. Because of assholes like that, the people like me and Spook who are only asking for help because the law favors deadbeats who don’t pay their court ordered child support, are the ones who get ignored and left to lose what little we have and go hungry.

It’s not a sob story. It’s our life. And while I get people’s reticence to donate because it ‘could be’ some elaborate scheme…I really wish I could give you all a look into our living situation. We live in a house so old, it has skeleton keyholes on the door lock and one electric out in the living room and bedrooms. The carpet is comprised of cheap remnant squares so when I vacuum I end up having to put them back into place. We have a bathtub with a sink faucet so we can’t even attach a shower sprayer. We drive a 2001 car that cost $450 at an auction my dad got it from. This laptop I am writing on this moment? It was a freebie someone left behind at the shop when I was being R’s marionette and my nephew got it working for me. Both of our LCD tvs? Bought used for $110 total a couple years back.

And don’t get me wrong, we are happy to have as much as we do cos it’s more than many have, but it kind of says that we’re not lap of luxury scammer types. I have no intention of letting the donor get out of paying support but the law is on his side in how much time he has to find a job, how long before he has to start paying, and with holidays and winter heat bills coming…I’m terrified. The only thing I have been able to take pride in is that since he walked out 7 years ago, I’ve kept a roof over my kid’s head and the power on. And I did it mostly without ever having to have a fundraiser unless it was unexpected thing like car breakdown, cat illness, or bug infestation.

When we were forced to move, though, we picked up expenses we didn’t have in the trailer park. Water and sewer and trash, which sucks up what little cushion I had without child support. Not to mention gas because now it’s a 20 miles trip to town and back for appointments and grocieres. I purposely stayed in that nasty trailer park where the furnace was broken more than it worked because I knew if the donor ditched out on paying, I could manage the monthly bills, just barely. This move was not our idea, and a raise in expenses was not what we wanted. Originally the place we found was $50 less in rent so I’d have been able to swing it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until moving day that we learned the elderly landlord had already rented that place to someone else cos he forgot he rented it to us and we got stuck with, yes a bigger place and house, no less, but higher rent and expenses. Believe me, this was not what I wanted, it was just necessity.

Since the move, I have tried to offer up my services as a babysitter, dogwalker, someone to clean house or run errands. I tried the rural gas stations. The only reason I could get pet supplies is that my stepmom and my dad let me do some dishes and fill out mileage reports for extra cash but when harvest ends, they won’t have the excess income to do that so it’s not a lock. I even tried submitting for a writing position in a local freebie rag and was rejected. We had a yard sale and made less than $8.


That has always been the infuriating thing for me, especially in a rural area where jobs are scarce. If there are 2 positions open and 300 people apply…it’s a safe bet the disabled person with an unstable work history is not going to be in demand. And since we moved to Armpit, the fact is, this is a closeknit country community and Spook and I are outsiders. I think you have to be a natural born redneck and live here ten years before they start viewing you as anything else. And because of my anxiety and mood issues, any work I do first will need the doctor to sign off so I need something off the books cos ain’t no way the doctors-any of them- will guarantee my stability since I’ve had such a bad year with medication and stuff.

So, oh wise ‘get a job’ people…Please do tell me the magic secret.

Or…be a decent human being and just visit the campaign, read our story, click the share button. Donate $5. Don’t want to do cash? Drop me a message and ask what we need, you can have it sent to directly to us unless of course, you think cat food and toilet paper and dish soap are items that make us scammers.

I have nothing to offer right now but words and the fact this blog has been here 7 years and the story never changes because the truth never changes.

On second thought…how about pics of our adorable kittens if for no other reason than the cuteness makes you go awwwwwww. Kitten pics are a popular thing, right?

That is Spook with Pandora.

Spook with Enderman (she named it, some Minecraft thing.)

This is Heathen.

And this is Lacuna.

We took in the mama cat, Tabbytha, after her owner left her outdoors in 95 degree heat for over a week without food or water. My sister rescued pregnant Tabby and tried to place her elsewhere but even the no kill shelter was full. I didn’t have the heart to let her go to the pound so Spook and I took her in and 3 days later she had those adorable babes.

Taking in pregnant cats doesn’t sound like something a heartless scammer would do, does it?

Oh, damn. I just realized- I was in a psych ward so by state law I can never legally own a gun therefore…I can’t hold a gun to an employer’s head.

C’mon, guys. I am TRYING.

Everything I do is for my kid and cats.

I’m batty for them.