Archive for the depression Category

Insomniac Lounge- 2:45 a..m

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , , on February 25, 2020 by morgueticiaatoms

I stayed up til 10:30 p.m., thinking if I didn’t crash too early I might stand a better chance of sleeping through longer. I’m funny. Because it was an epic fail. The melatonin cocktail took hours to kick in so I took another half pill…Only to wake, again, every hour on the hour. 11:30 p.m. 12:20 a.m 1:15 a.m. 2 a.m. I got up at two out of frustration. Plus side, at least minus Restoril I am not stumbling around to get a drink or use the bathroom and falling asleep standing up. Negative, I’ve had less than 3 total hours of sleep and I feel like one should feel- tired and damn frustrated.

The anxiety kicked in yesterday when I got the reminder call that I have a shrink appointment at noon today. I have always had ‘anticipation anxiety’, be it work, an appointment, someone else’s work or appointment, my kid’s school schedule…I find it impossible to truly calm down and relax with things looming overhead. My neuroses over driving 20 miles to town and back has metastasized as the car is reaching 226,000 miles and continues to have dashboard wiring issues. It’s making a funny new noise, which has me convinced it is about to keep over. Is it neuroses and panic or is it legit concern? Panic doesn’t allow logic to enter the picture. It just sets off fight or flight mode and I genuinely dread every trip to town. Should the car break down, I have no one to call for a ride home, no money for a tow. On the interstate in the boonies is not a place anyone wants car trouble.

Then there is telling the doctor that Restoril doesn’t work and the hangovers kill me. He was absolutely clear last night that whatever I was experiencing with it was simply not possible because it’s not how the drug works. Oh, how many times have I heard that crap. It’s less about what the drug should do or does do for a million other people. Because my system responds differently to medications. Then I also have to tell him that 6 weeks at the max Cymbalta dose does not have me feeling less depressed, so another med failure. The doc is a nice guy but like every other doc that glances over my collegiate dictionary thick file, they take on that exhausted and baffled tone, “We’ve tried A to Z, I don’t know to do next. Niki.”

Like I do?

Well, I have an idea, but thanks to ass trash insurance companies, it is a no go. I did okay on Abilify last year, but I couldn’t handle the side effects. They have since introcuded a second generation of a similar drug, but they’ve tweaked it to have fewer side effects. Bitch of new meds is, big pharma can jack the prices to whatever they want and this med…is $1490 a month for 30 pills. That offends my sensibilities even if wouldn’t all come out of pocket. And the preapproval process could take weeks only to be denied, then of course, they say you can appeal, and that takes a ton more paperwork and time, essentially placing you in limbo without a secondary med and the appeal gets turned down every time. I fought to get Spook’s Concerta because it was the only one that worked for her ADHD without making her feel hazy but insurance would not even approve the appeal with the doctor on our side. And Concerta is under $400, so what shot do I have at getting something close to $1500? Sooo bloody frustrating.

Guess it’s back to the drawing board. Maybe I could give Lexapro another try, perhaps my body chemistry has changed since I tried it 6 years ago. It gave me akathesia like Abilify, which is constant movement without intention to move, your body just starts twitching and trembling and having all these tics you can’t control. Not a good side effect. Maybe try Celexa again?

The illogical thing is that every time a med fails and I have to tell the doctor-I always feel like I’m letting the doctor down. It isn’t my fault my body chemistry doesn’t respond to the meds or can’t handle the side effects, so why should I feel that way?

Maybe because I’ve tried over 31 antidepressants over the last 27 years and I can feel the doctors get frustrated with me, like I just want to try a new drug every few months for giggles. I can assure them, there are zero giggles involved when all I want is not even to feel good, I’d settle just for feeling okay. I want it more than my next breath. Unfortunately, medication resistance has become more common that the psych community would like people to know. Big pharma def does not want people to know, lest they start buying into the party line about all psych meds being bad and they don’t work. It’s not that I have faith in big pharma but I do have faith in myself and I know I’ve had successful med cocktails over the years. Maybe they didn’t last more than a year at a time but I know I can feel better than I do right now with the right meds.

I am so not going to want to get up with Spook when the alarm goes off if I don’t get to sleep soon. Then again I rarely want to get out of bed at all during winter. Just gotta remind myself with each passing day I get closer to the season change and with it comes a sort of switch being thrown in my body and I’ll feel much better with warmer temps and more sunlight. I HOPE. Depression has a way of mucking up what is your ‘norm’ sometimes.

For now I think it’s back to Fort Blankie, I am freezing and my hands are like ice cubes. I will either nod off eventually or I will be awake and getting more irate by the hour and drop off ten minutes before the alarm goes off so I can just get pissed off all over again. And it’s not even real anger, it’s frustration.

On a last note, I finally spoke up and asked about that money my stepmonster promised me for doing her bidding last week babysitting their neighbor kid. Rather than wordlessly send over $5, he says, “We’ll discuss it and let you know.”

So if you find me less than warm and fuzzy, consider that this is the man who spawned me and ‘fathered’ me. Compared to how cold he is, I am damn warm and fuzzy. He’s such a jerk. And I feel a cold coming on around Thursday thus I don’t think I should be babysitting lest I make the kid sick….

They want to fuck with me, they’re gonna get fucked with right back. Play fair or get out of the sandbox, idgets.

Another Hard Part Of Having Mental Health Problems

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , on February 24, 2020 by morgueticiaatoms

I do not admit this with any pride, it seems petty and shallow and of course, I want others with mental health issues to have a working med cocktail and have symptom remission…

At the same time, for years, when friends have found that med combo and are in a good place..I am happy for them but I also have this mixed feeling like…

They’re well, and I am still on my medi-go-round with meds that aren’t working. How will they relate to me now that they are functional and going out and feeling good?

You’d be surprised how easy it is once your symptoms have cleared up to forget just how dark things can get and it can cause you take your remission for granted and make it too easy to dismiss others not in remission as ‘downers who may damage my good mental space.” Again, no pride, but I’ve done it a couple of times myself, inadvertently. It never occurred to me how it might feel on the other side, when you’re still sick but the person who was you support system and understood where you were coming from is no longer in that mental space. Yes, your friends are totally happy for you but you can never forget that it may also make them battle with feelings of “Why can’t I just feel okay?”

Thankfully I have become wiser since those days but I still struggle because my ‘symptom remission’ rarely lasts more than a few weeks. It is difficult to see people whose meds work consistently and they remain in good mental health for months and years and you’re just on the hamster wheel, giving all you’ve got, getting nowhere. It is demeaning and frustrating and yes, I experience feelings of empty. Always wondering, why do they get to feel good but I am still stuck here? And it’s not petty or mean, it’s a natural response when all you want is to feel better and you’re doing everything you can and it’s still not working.

And the worst part is you feel guilty for these feelings, and you sincerely are happy for your friends’ remissions and good mental health but again…you feel pretty shitty about yourself. I’ve experienced this a lot with mental health blogging, seeing bloggers come and go when they have symptom remission or just give up and start smoking weed instead of messing with the doctors and meds…Some have vanished for good. Your decency wants to be happy for them and supportive and all that wonderful stuff. But your depression and anxiety riddled brain is still feeling left behind.

All I can say is IF you are blessed with good mental health or a symptom remission…Please remember some of us aren’t so lucky and while we are totally happy for you…Empathy can go a long way toward making us feel less awful about our own lack of remission.

Ass Trashery

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , , on February 24, 2020 by morgueticiaatoms

‘Ass Trash’ is a term coined by Becca many many years ago to reference stuff that sucks or people who are, well, assholes. Ash trashery is the act of everything being ass trash.

I retired to Fort Blankie last night around 7 p.m., waiting for melatonin, benadryl, and one 15mg Restoril to do its job and put me to sleep. Which it did after a bit of time. THEN I kept waking up. 8:10. 9:30. 10:20. 11:30. 12:15. 1:25 every bloody hour on the hour. Lots of bad dreams. I woke with my monthly PMS on steroids (sorry if talk of my hormonal issues make male readers squeamish but it plays a huge role in my mental health.) Cramps, backache, and combined with the Restoril hangover, it was all I could do to stumble awake long enough to make sure my kid was awake and getting dressed. Then I returned to Fort Blankie and continued to nap and wake cycle til 11 a.m. at which point I fought with everything I had to force myself out of bed and into consciousness. I am in pain despite taking Tylenol and my giddy up and go has a dead horse at the helm so I am giddying up and going nowhere today.

I did dive into my email and blog and community notifications. I am devoted to my writing and participating in the community, even when my mental state is ass trash. I answered all the chat room questions, posted my meet link to Becca’s blog, and read up on how to improve my writing and it would only cost $497 for a month. I shall remain a mediocre writer.

I need to make an apology to anyone who felt my multiple posts yesterday who found it flood posting or spamming. I was trying to schedule posts to be spread out and um…I don’t get along well with military time so rather than schedule properly, some of them published instantly and I am sorry for that influx. Though the a couple of posts that got no real exposure since I’ve been playing around with categories and tags, I sure would appreciate if you’d go back and take a read if you missed them or skipped them. When my creativity flows on hyperdrive, I get real needy, wanting to share it and be at least able to give someone a giggle or a ‘wtf??” So expect more Babylon Files and some Beautifully Random links and pondering on here.

Once again, I cannot get warm,big shocker. I have on two thick pairs of socks and still can’t feel my toes. I cannot believe winter in the US based on the calendar length is only 89 days. It feels like 89 years.

Okay, so that is all my foggy brain has for now.

It would feed the pegacorn’s soul if a few people wandered over to check out the community. We cannot grow if people do not show up to participate.

The Babylon Files-Teapot Venting Version

Posted in depression, pop culture, Ramble with tags , , , , , , , , , , on February 23, 2020 by morgueticiaatoms

If you are unfamiliar with my Babylon Files, it essentially a freestyle rant where I vent all the pent up steam brought on by weeks of societal idiocy or quirky news blurbs. There is no structure, no central topic except to rant.

No link, no memory of location or names of people involved but I read a female lawmaker proposed a law that requires all men to get a vasectomy by their 50th birthday or after their 3rd child is born. Male politicians have a BIG problem with women telling them what they can and can’t do with their genitals and reproductive abilities. Imagine that! Typical hypocrisy of sexist pigs who think birth control and abortion are wrong, but hey, until you get ovaries and fallopian tubes and a uterus, who the hell are you men to say what women can or cannot do with their bodies? Roe V Wade was legalized on the day I was born and I often wondered since my dad said he wasn’t ready for a baby, I was all mom’s doing, if they’d have aborted me. I was pro-life for a long time. And then I realized the toll pregnancy and childbirth take on a woman physically and emotionally, no to mention financially, especially if some charming man decide to bail on responsibility. I think every woman should have free will and safe medical choices to decide their own individual needs. I know this is one of those ‘no-no’ topics that make people uneasy and can start net troll flame wars but on this one…I am speaking up and out. If men don’t want the government limiting their reproductive rights, how fucking dare they all be so concerned with robbing us of our right to control what does or does not happen with OUR bodies.

Hell’s Kitchen is grossing me out today. They are serving goat and kangaroo meat and to me, that is blashpemy. Not real fond of people eating baby animals, period. I have a love for goats that borders on being weird, but one of my first pets was a billy goat my grandpa got for me and I used to feed him grandma’s flowers (the goat, not grandpa) and she would get so exasperated with me, she’d use my full name. And short of the government or bill collectors, no one calls me Katina Nicole. Niki is the only name I’ve ever been called by family and friends. So if someone is using the full legal name, I really done pissed them off. But in my defense, the goat was hungry and the flowers were right there…

Because of my insomnia and super sensitivity to any light in my room when trying to sleep, I want one of these sleep crown pillows.

I am, however, utterly offended that someone could in good conscience charge $168 dollars for this ‘sleep crown’ pillow! That’s bloody insane! But if I had money to spare and the reviews are correct and it helps with anxiety as well as sleep…I would spend that.

I also dream of a weighted blanket but even a twin at the cheapest sites runs about $49 so that ain’t gonna happen.

This handy dandy gadget is something I must acquire at some point, considering my poor eyesight and clumsiness. It’s magnet and holds the nail so you don’t whack your fingers while putting up pictures on the wall or whatever.
These products are brought to me, to you, via my weekly newsletter from

I am tired of trends. Some of the best things that contributed to my quality of life and good mental health are now considered obsolete and uncool because, hey, get with the times, man. Fuck that. I don’t like everything about ‘the times’. Like social media and all this like button stuff and a gazillion selfies begging to be validated that you are indeed, an attractive, interesting person even if your skill seems limited to looking pretty/handsome and taking your picture and pictures of your lunch.
So if I had a time traveling booth ala Bill and Ted’s Excellent adventure (and upcoming reboot movie) I would revisit 1989 and the time I spent in Hollywood, CA, surrounded by people who did not think I was a freak and were very kind to me and oh, the music, the clubs…I was only 16 and a runaway but I had soooo much fun. They even had me checking IDs at the door one night in this whole in the wall rock club and I was letting guys with long hair in even if they didn’t have ID. It was just..a happier time for me on so many levels.
THEN I would return to 2002 and msn chat rooms would still be a thing and I could have a safe space to chat in real time with people experiencing the same mental health issues as me. That virtual chat room was my home, it was where I felt safe and accepted. And now people are like, what’s a chat room? Oh, bloody hell, just so sad. And I would want to revisit msn instant messenger with its custom emoticons (fuck emojis, they were emoticons first) and nudge button…

Oh, and I would completely make sure Zuckerberg never created Facebook, Twitter never came to be, and oh, 2015 when I imploded my most important friendship by having such lofty principles and fragile feelings. Then 2016 I’d have made sure Trump NEVER made it into office.

So ya know, phone booths are the thing, and frankly while I’d rather hang with Bill and Ted than the lady doc on Dr. Who, I’d still like my time machine trip to look cool so I’d have to go for the Tardis.

I do have an active imagination. Sometimes I think it is all that has saved me from the blackest depressive thoughts in which I got to believing the world would be a better place without me in it. But because I can fantasize and imagine that things can get better, I have managed to keep getting back up every time I fall.

Think lack of sleep has taken the steam out of my teakettle. That was a pathetic rant but I will post it anyway. Because I can.


Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , on February 23, 2020 by morgueticiaatoms

Is that even a word, you wonder. No idea. Fussbudget is a legitimate word. I just tweaked it a little and I do that a lot. I really like making hybrid words.

So, I didn’t nod off til 6:30 this morning and I was back up at 8 a.m. Been up since. Hope I didn’t do anything slothful, daring to get a total of 3.5 hours of sleep.

My mental space is a little better today but the day still feels like it is dragging on forever and a little dim in spite of a decent temperature and plenty of sunshine. Must just be my mental landscape perceiving things as dim.

Spook is pretty sedate today, which is good. Happy quiet kid is a less anxious less unhappy mom.

I am still battling the depressive inertia. Simply refilling ice cube trays feels draining. And I was feeling this way six months ago so that is a good indicator that my secondary antidepressant isn’t antidepressing me properly. The up and down weather does not help. Now I’ve been told that since I had that med interaction in 2000 and suffered brain damage, one of the side effects of that is inability to regulate body temperature. Brain damage is forever so I guess it’s just shivering 5 months a year for the rest of my life sans premenopausal hot flashes. Oh, joy.

Ya know what really pisses me off? In January, I was at least feeling calm about our monthly expenses. I thought I would have a month or two to breathe.

Then I get knocked on my ass with a $317 heat bill, $151 to keep my car road legal, and I don’t have that kind of money but it’s all due the first and last week of March or my power gets cut and I can’t drive my car. Money problems are an issue for many people, I know. I’m not special. But just feeling content those few weeks in January, I needed less xanax, I was less jumpy, I was less scared and paranoid. And ya know what? I LIKED NOT FEELING LIKE A RUBBER BAND ABOUT TO SNAP.

Meanwhile, my dad and stepmonster are volunteering me to do work-their commitment they can’t fulfill- for free when Spook and I are sinking like the fucking Titanic. I mean, if I am willing and can force myself out of mental hell-th to do the work, I should be compensated for it since it wasn’t my doing.
I try to make a couple of bucks off my writing on Ko-fi but my writing isn’t even worth a $3 donation (that is the max donation).

I keep filling out job applications trying to find something to make money.

And none of it seems to matter. Hard to keep morale up when you’re battling just to keep a roof over head through zero fault of your own.

So yes I am whining and bitching and being a fussbudget and I’m not sorry.

I’ve got a kid, cats, and a pegacorn to feed, so pardon me if my being stressed out is a fussbudgetry bummer for you.

Now…because humor and sarcasm are the only things that really get me through this hellscape of my own mind, I leave you with something to make you roll your eyes.

Working The Quirk

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , on February 23, 2020 by morgueticiaatoms

Someone described me as weird today and I think our wires were crossed because she meant it in a good way and that was how I took it but I guess my tone was off or something. But yeah, in school, that was how people described me. “The weird girl.” And they were not being complimentary. It took awhile for me to come to terms with being different thus weird in their eyes. I didn’t feel like anything was all that wrong with me. Not weird, like wearing a tutu with clown shoes while shampooing my hair with mustard. I mean, that would WEIRD. But it was a rural community and I wasn’t doing the denim and flannel thing so yeah, I was bound to be the misfit everyone tortured with name calling and insults. Eventually, though, I realized I wasn’t weird, they were all just the same and that is worse than weird, that is plain boring and sheeple mentality. So I started thanking them for calling me a weirdo, sometimes even giving a smile and a curtsy.

Bugged the hell out of them when I stopped crumbling at every insult. I took back my power. By using my super power, sarcasm.

Being diagnosed with multiple mental health issues and doing therapy has made it clear I have some sort of personality disorder but the thing is…everything they consider a disorder are things that make me HAPPY, not depressed. And if I like to wear skulls and decorate for Halloween year round because it makes me happy, who the hell are they to tell me no, it’s part of your depression. NO. I am just a quirky person.

Before the diagnostic manual became the holy grail of psychiatrists creating new disorders, people were allowed to be eccentric and have quirks.

So…some things about me others may find freaky weird but I find adorable little quirks…

1.) I have been playing games on Neopets for 20 years. Yes, I have a virtual pet and all that jazz. I don’t, however, interact with anyone on the site as they are primarily children and that would make me look weird in the wrong way. But I am addicted to this one word scramble game and I just can’t give it up no matter how old I get.

2.) I still have posters of my favorite rock bands on my bedroom walls. I’ve been told to grow up and stop being a teenager but…my mom’s room is plastered in Elvis merch, so whatever, we do our own thing.

3.)I talk to myself. A lot. If it’s just me and the cats, and something goes wrong, I will start muttering, “STOP SUCKING, BLOODY FUCKING HELL!” I do now, however answer myself, so I think it’s cool.

4.) During summer when it gets too hot, I have zero qualmsm plopping in my kid’s plastic kiddie pool. NONE.

5.) When I take my kid to the park, I swing with her and climb on all the jungle gyms and such.

6.) I like to lick the powdery nacho cheese off Doritos then pitch the actual chip.

7.) I talk to my cats. Often. They’re great listeners and they don’t judge me. Sometimes they will even let me pet and hold them and they will nuzzle me and purr. Nothing gets me higher than the sound of a purring cat, that is like a happy drug for me.

8.) I like men with long hair and have since 5th grade. I don’t know why, but it’s my thing. I walk up to random strange men with long hair and ask if I can touch it. You can be the best looking guy on Earth but that short hair thing…sometimes doesn’t work for me. In all fairness, I also don’t like short hair on women.

9.) I cannot stand coffee. I used to serve it when I waited tables and the semll alone makes me gag. I love soda. Yes, it is bad for me. But joy in a cup comes from a fountain Dr. Pepper or vanilla Pepsi.

10.) I am a shameless carnivore and refuse to eat pizza if it doesn’t have at least two meat toppings. I like all meat pizzas best. Carnivorous though I may be, I still will not eat goat, snake, deer, sheep, duck, goose, kangaroo, elk, etc. My palate simply isn’t that curious about how adorable animals taste.

In My Dreams…

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , on February 22, 2020 by morgueticiaatoms

Spook and I both have very vivid imaginations and sometimes we play the ‘what if we had the money to do…” game. So far all we’ve agreed on is a house with an in ground pool and a moat filled with hungry gators to keep my family away.

But truth is, that is all frou frou thought. My true dreams are much simpler and more down to Earth. I have always been ‘low rent’ and I don’t have expensive tastes or unrealistic expectations. So this is my top ten dream list of what I wish I could have in life.

1.) Enough monthly income to pay all the bills, buy all supplies, and occasionally take my kid out for a meal or movie.

2.) Medication that actually works because my luck with them is zilch.

3.) A replacement laptop since my screen is failing on this one and my entire life is in my computer. (Used, preferably, I do not want Windows 8 or 10, that is nasty stuff.)

4.) A working clothes dryer.

5.) A small lottery win or donation that would give Spook and I a $1000 cushion or so just in case we do get hit by these monstrous power/heat bills and pricey auto registration renewal fees.

6.) A work from home job in which I could utilize my writing and bargain hunting skills without compromising my precarious mental health.

7.) Ability to buy my kid some clothes that actually fit since she’s grown 2 inches since her xmas clothes were bought and now she looks like she is wearing belly shirts and capri pants.

8.) Our living room TV repaired so the remote will work and we can actually use the smart app features.

9.) A different (but used and model prior to 2010) car with lower mileage and no wiring problem that causes my gas gauge and speedometer to only work sporadically.

10.) For Becca to come back and live with us again because we really did mesh and it was just nice living with my best friend. We complemented each other and had enough in common still to get along so well.

And that is it. Those are the dreams/hopes/wishes I have. No luxury cars or homes, no fancy jewelry, no pricey trips, no winning lottery tickets making us millionaires.

I just want to be able to support my kid and work through my mental health disability without constantly stressing over all the things I can’t afford. She lost a tooth last night and I only had 45 cents to put under her pillow. That was a shitty feeling, even if she doesn’t believe in the tooth fairy.

I just want to be able to improve our lives and the one recurring issues are my mental illnesses and lack of adequate income to pay for the monthly bills and necessities.

That’s all I dream about. Making a better life for my daughter and I.