Archive for the depression Category

Runaway Brain

Posted in anxiety, Attention Deficit Disorder, depression, seasonal affective disorder with tags , , , , , , , , , , on November 18, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Either my unmedicated A.D.D hijacked even more of my brain chemicals to get so chaotic or the raise in Cymbalta has amped up my hypomanic energy but…wow, my brain is racing today. Wasn’t prior to taking my meds. Now it’s like pulling in six different radio stations on one channel and I don’t know if I wanna listen to metal, pop, country, dance, rap, or thrash so it’s all doing battle to get my attention and I am utterly confused where to go next. But nooo, I do not need Focalin at all, ass trash insurance company.

Nope, despite a relativity early bedtime and only waking six times during the night (6 is pretty good with my mega sleep disturbance), I did not have the strength to pull myself out of bed on this cool gloomy day. I hit snooze til 7:10 then did the Evil Daily Deed that is waking the spawn. It usually involves her growling and groaning and sometimes yelling at me so I have to scorch her retinas with the overhead light and pull the covers off of her so she can spew more pea soup at me…So on top of still being half asleep and having cramps, I had to deal with her daily wardrobe drama and Monday morning ‘don’t want to go to school, I am sick’ litany. (Which starts on Sunday nights, I call it Sunday-itis, how she hates this bloody school yet what can I do? And she isn’t even consistent in hating the place, every day is some new declaration of love or hate, puberty anyone?)

So far other than send the kid to school and take care of the indoor and outdoor cats, I have done nothing. Spook was supposed to have a dental appointment today but I left a message canceling it Friday since the car is out of gas. Then they started calling both phones and texting me about missing the appointment and I’m just like, not my fault you can’t check your damn messages, I gave 72 hours notice. Geesh. Just a cleaning, anyway. I guess a true grown up would have answered the phone and done a mea culpa, but the runaway train that is my brain just isn’t feeling the ‘adulting’ thing today.

Oh, I stand (sit) corrected, I have been proof reading an old novel I wrote AND THIS IS HUGE: I am playing music. Usuaully it rattles me too much and on this laptop it sort of sounds like crap, metal needs bass and metal and this has none. BUT yesterday I got dealt another death blow. MY DESKTOP COMPUTER STARTED EMITTING A SHRIEKING NON STOP BEEP AS I TRIED TO BOOT IT UP. I looked it up on line and it’s apparently a hardware problem which I know nothing about. R is out of town. My nephew is busy with impending parenthood, a paper route, a wife, and oh, reformatting my kid’s netbook. So much as I feel the stirrings of my creative writing trying to wake up, now my desktop computer won’t work. To say I am devastated is an understatement. I bought it used four months ago and even sprang for the warranty but hey guess what? You gotta send it to the warranty place and shipping for a heavy tower is around $30…(I only paid $49 for the tower,ffs!) I gotta stop buying old shit, shoulda known it was iffy since it still has a 3.5 inch floppy drive. But it was working fine, I don’t understand what happened. I made sure it wasn’t near the heat vent, that it has plenty of ventilation in back. Hell, I was in such a depression, I barely used it more than half a dozen times. I did, however, leave it in sleep mode for 3 months so god knows what damage that did. I had a bad juju feeling that if I shut it down something bad would happen and it did…

I can write blog posts, short stories, poems, letters, etc, from a laptop. But when it comes to 400 page novels and using external drives and creating pathways for my playlists and using my kick ass speakers…I need a tower to avoid overheating and avoid overtaxing its brain. Now…I am fucked.

But it was like I told my sister, every time something good happens, it is generally followed by two or three bad things. We got heat, got our hot water heater fixed, even got the kitchen faucet replaced and the bathroom sink unclogged…So of fucking course, my PC tower had to keel over. THEN my bedroom smart TV (used, $69) went spaztic and wouldn’t let me use my apps for two days and I reset everything I could think of, signed in and out, turned it off and on. Then I remembered a trick R taught me at the shop, how sometimes unplugging them for ten minutes can ‘reboot’ the system kinks and I’ll be damned after that, the apps started working again. Sadly that is not the easy fix for the living room TV. The IR sensor has failed so the remote does not work and we can’t access any smart features without it. That fix is gonna involve stripping the TV to its frame and about two hours labor and I know R will do it for me and not charge a dime but…he is never available, he just got shipped out of state again for his job.

Which lead to another clusterfuck in my brain because he warned me last night that IF they didn’t ship him out, he wanted to come hang out tonight. And when I woke so groggy and moody and crampy, I kept HOPING they’d ship him out, then I could avoid bathing and pretending to be social. When I found out they did ship him out, I felt a little bummed. Probably because his presence means I get free Mangoritas. I am shallow that way. I still consider it back pay for all the pro-republican tirades he put me through that nearly drove me to a nervous breakdown. Lately, though, he has toned it down greatly aside from the digs here and there about Democrats and especially the female ones Trump refers to as ‘the squad’ so that is what R calls them and I just find it so demeaning to the female gender. If a bunch of guys were like minded and such, they wouldn’t be labeled ‘the bromancers’. Oopps, that is a can of worms best left sealed and buried in concrete. Politics lead nowhere good.

Still not sure how I am gonna get Spook to her band concert Wednesday with no gas in the car. (I even emptied out lawn mower gas, but it was only half a gallon and that ain’t gonna get us to Dopia School) She has literally had ONE practice, and will have ONE more tomorrow and until 2 weeks ago she had never picked up a saxophone in her life. And band is only 30 minutes and most of that is instrument assembly so very little teaching. When she came home from her grandmother’s yesterday I suggested she get some practice in before getting on the tablet and war broke out. Tears, screaming, blaming me (which I had already heard from my mother, all because I dared to correct my kid for being mouthy)…She tried to tell me there wasn’t a single tutorial on line that might help her. I pulled a dozen up on youtube and she claimed ‘my tablet doesn’t get that’. Um, yeah, youtube is standard on Androids, duh. She does not like being caught in her lies and vivid imagination so she went bonkers over that. I eventually got her calmed down and she complained the sax didn’t sound right so she couldn’t play it. I warned her from the get that I know fuck all about music so I’d be of no help.

When she finally exited tantrum zone and started making a true effort, she actually impressed me with some of the notes she was able to make. She certainly has more of a handle on putting her fingers in different positions and remembering them. I tried to learn guitar but sadly, my brain is too scrambled. I can’t even drive a stick shift car, I am so scrambled.

So now what to do with myself since I was gonna write or try to, but the slave computer has keeled over on me. Damn it, could things ever just go right for a couple of weeks at a time instead of this ‘one good thing, two bad things’ bullshit? Whose Cheerios did I piss in?

I am so bloody sick of housework I could puke. But the other day by just saying fuck it and letting myself be lazy for awhile…I ended up accomplishing a few things. Like yesterday morning before Spook got home and it was 10 a.m. and I was doing dishes and hang drying laundry and sweeping and mopping. The more I bully myself the less I get done. And BFD if it is a do nothing, feel shitty day. I allowed someone into my inner sanctum to get that stuff fixed and that takes a lot out of me so maybe a few days of True Blood binge and not fretting over housework I can find my motivation.

And I also need to mourn the death of my desktop computer. The fifth one in a row. I am starting to think buying them used is a bad thing but since it is all I can ever afford…Amazing how I am still driving a $450 car 18 months later but I can’t get a computer tower to last beyond 6 months? I must be cursed when it comes to desktops. But I still want one so bad I’d pawn all my TVs to get one. Except for the fact the pawn shop guy pays about $20 for big tvs, less for smaller ones, so I still couldn’t raise the funds. How is pawn broking any different than loan sharking? You lowball someone desperate, jack the price up and profit…

Wow, my brain is totally off the rails on the crazy train today. At least it’s an ode to my beloved Ozzy.

Bounce Back…Sorta

Posted in anxiety, bipolar depression, depression with tags , , , , , , , on November 15, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

After yesterday’s grief ridden post, I got a text from a friend wanting to come over last night. Idk, I don’t much feel like socializing but then again, I so rarely get the opportunity for conversation with others than my kid, cats, and toxic family…I said yes, which gave me something to both stress about and look forward to. I boiled water so I could take a half ass bath and at least have clean hair and not reek. I boiled more water and did a pile of dishes I’d been neglecting. I swept and mopped the kitchen floor. I used the hell machine to vac the carpets. I cleaned the litter box. I buried my poor departed Pasha kitten and made him a grave marker. I did a load of laundry and hung it off curtain rods by heat registers in hopes it would dry properly that way. I gathered up all the trash out back so it’d be ready to my dad to pick it up. I got a lot accomplished, including a few episodes of True Blood. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to do any of it. I wanted to stay in bed and just feel sad, because…loss and grief are due a mourning process and I was very attached to Pasha.’

Guess the prospect of someone being in my home and judging me for even a mild state of disarray-reminding me once again how easily it all gets out of control…It kicked me into gear. I even made Sloppy Joes for supper, not that my kid appreciated a warm meal. Nope, she just wants chicken nuggets and strips and pizza rolls nuked in the microwave so I guess I cooked more for me. Because I do have that thing where I forget to feed myself for a day or two and like the shrink said, I need to start eating a little more properly if it will raise my blood pressure enough so I don’t feel cold all the time.

My kid came home and practiced her saxophone, they have a band concert next week. Talk about excrutiating to my sensitive noise issues. She practiced a whole 30 minutes then said her mouth hurt and it was cutting into her tablet time. Her dedication us underwhelming. But she is just starting so even if I want to wear noise canceling headphones (don’t own any, sadly), I am trying to be supportive and encouraging and compliment her on the effort to learn. I am (irrationally) irked about how widespread our dire financial circumstances are that everyone at the school knows about it. The band teacher offered to try and find a family we could car pool with or she could come get is herself and that is very nice. I can’t help but feel shitty about it, though. To not even have $20 to get gas and our med refills is pretty humiliating.

I looked into some work from home jobs from Indeed but I was doomed from the go because I don’t have the powerful computers required (nor reliable internet service) to even be considered. This laptop I am using has no mic or webcam or fancy software. I thought maybe if I could find a low stress safe zone the shrink might sign off on it for a few hours a week. I was so boosted to see legit postions until I saw their tech requirements. Apparently a 7 year old freebie laptop with half the functioning stuff not functioning ain’t gonna cut it. As if I stood a chance, anyway. And that is not negativity, it is based on the fact that even if I had the proper tech gear, I don’t have the education or background experience.

My kid was up, dressed, and cleaning her room at 6 a.m. I was battling lethary and since she was up and ready to go, I did something I never do. I stayed in bed til 7:20. And forgot to give her her pill (mom of the year). So far I have put on clean clothes, put some clean clothes away, and said a prayer that when R came over last night, he got our hot water fixed again. Now if I can just get stepmonster to install the kitchen faucet, we should be all set. Except for the fact that my bedroom has zero heat coming into it, think the bloody outdoor cats got down in the basement and fucked up the vent lines. Not like it matters, I am always cold, anyway. If I am not having hot flashes.

I need to go to town to turn in the heating assistance paperwork they have to have but…another trip to town, with only about 50 miles worth of gas left in the tank (it takes a gallon and half for every trip to town and each trip is 30 miles there and back) so I am gonna have to, ugh, see if dad can help me get gas in the car. Unlikely. I know if my mom had it she would give it to me, but alas, she does not have it. It amazes me how some people can go to multiple churches or whatever and get ten kinds of help but because I live in Bumfuck, there aren’t helpful organizations aplenty. Which is hilarious. Only thing Bumfuck has more of than bars and fast food is churches. And please do not mistake me for lazy or a whiner or looking for handouts constantly. The donor flaking out on the child support cut our income by almost $300 and that takes a toll. Til then we were managing okay. Leave it to him to ALWAYS flake out on support right around Christmas, seems to be his pattern. And he doesn’t even mail her a gift, not once in 8 years since he left. It breaks my heart because it Spook and there is just nothing I can do about it. The man is…useless. I try to tell her he loves her in his own way, much as he is able to considering his own upbringing by a drunken abusive father, bully siblings, and a dead father. If ay of that is true. He has some serious mommy/women issues, for sure. Abandoning 3 kids and yet he thinks he is well adjusted and a good man…Talk about denial and delusion.

But for today I may be crampy and listless but I am up and half ass functioning. That counts for something. And other than the mountain of laundry my daughter had stashed in her room, I am caught up on the housework. We have hot water and heat. Soon a working kitchen faucet. Gratitude for the small things. And the bracelet I found from months ago that is inscribed inside with ‘your anxiety is lying to you’. Now I just need one that says “depression is not your fault, your feelings matter”. Maybe if I look at it daily I will start to believe it and be able to blow off all the unsupportive toxic naysayers.

Maybe if I can get my mind out of the depressive/anxiety gutter I can seek out some sort of support group, an outlet or whatever. I want that so bad but I am just not ready. Yet. I am getting there. Slowly. Oh so sloooowly.

Baby steps.

Dysphoric Doll

Posted in anxiety, depression, pmdd, pms, seasonal depression with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on November 14, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Dysphoria is a state of mental discomfort or suffering. When you feel dysphoria — you feel depressed and awful.It’s a state of unease, anxiety, and misery.

Losing our kitten, hormonal imbalance, weather related depression, money stress…It’d make anyone sad, right?

Except my sadness has ballooned into outright dysphoria. Zero energy, zero will to live. Getting up to get my kid off to school today was grueling. How I wanted to remain in my warm sarcophagus of blankets and sleep.

The news depressed me. What a farce. I made it about 15 minutes before I changed the channel. Not that my brain is any state to focus or even be distracted by TV.

This misery has seeped down into my bones and I feel utterly useless, helpless.

I saw a motivational poster at the psych center yesterday about making every day of your life count and how it is up to you whether you waste it or make it a memorable day of productivity. It’s almost humorous to put something like that in a place where so many of us go because our minds tell us, no matter how well things are going, that we are too exhausted and demoralized to even bathe.

I won’t prolong this woe is me bullshit. But what I thought was feeling low last week was nothing compared to how I am feeling now. You could shove me into a six foot hole, cover me with dirt, and I’d be hard pressed to even protest weakly.

My love for my child and cats should make me more determined. Instead, I feel so despondent. Maybe another day in Fort Blankie is in order. I did get out and function yesterday, at least. I can always take the paperwork to town tomorrow and get Spook’s new script. I can’t get my scripts because I won’t have the copay til next month so I will have two weeks without Cymbalta and Wellbutrin.

Okay, enough bitching and moaning. Just wanted anyone else who is going through a dark depression who might happen upon this…you’re not alone. And it’s not your fault.

Emotional Evisceration

Posted in anxiety, cats and kittens, depression, grief, loss of a pet, S.A.D on November 13, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

One of our kittens died last night. We don’t know why, but the symptoms were the same as his sibling who passed a few weeks back and we are thinking maybe there’s just some sort of defect in the bloodline. I don’t know what else it could be, I keep the chemicals and cleaning stuff and all pills in cabinets far away from even climbing cats…I am shattered with the loss of Pasha. And the ground is frozen solid so I can’t even bury him properly which makes me cry even more. Total emotional evisceration while still alive. Rest in peace, Pashi-man. ❤

Because I am doing the PMS from hell trip, I’ve been crying off and on, sobbing and cursing whatever deity allows kittens and puppies and children to perish…I feel the grief, but the mood stabilizer can make it hard to cry even when it is appropriate so the free flowing tears have been a mixture of cathartic, irritating, and just…true heart break. Pets become our family members and losing two of the kittens in a month really has me wrecked.

Today has been a suckfest in every other way, too. I defrosted my car but the snow was iced on so I had to dig out my scraper only my doors were all frozen except the driver side, so I had to play Twister trying to reach the damn thing on the floor in the backseat. I was about to pull out when I noticed one of the outdoor cats got stuck between in the screen and inner door so I had to go back and let her out. I nearly busted my ass in a parking lot cos it was so icy. Got to the dr office early, hoping maybe I’d get in and out and make my other appointment on time. Instead he was running late and my anxiety was climbing so by the time I got to see him, I felt rushed and just wanted my meds increased and out of there though I think had I not been pressed for time I’d have liked to speak with him a little more. I was shocked that he took my concerns about the hormonal issues seriously, especially the way they worsen as I get older. And when I told him light therapy did not help with the S.A.D cos I was always cold, he told me I need to eat protein in the morning, eggs with salt or turkey or something to raise my blood pressure enough to maybe make me feel warmer. And he commented on being impressed by my use of the word ‘copacetic’. Rather than find it condescending, it was a pleasant compliment. Usually the people around me accuse me of using obscure or big words to make them feel stupid. Which is just wrong, I use lots of ‘weird’ words. I am loquacious that way.

Then I managed to get to my heating assistance appointment only 5 minutes late but they had it in the total lockdown building my nephew lives in and no signs telling us where to go so it took me 15 minutes driving and walking around that huge place in 13 degree weather until I found someone who told me she just squeezed through some holes in a fence to get to the right place. I figured I’d be in trouble for being 25 minutes late but they got me in right away. Then I hit a roadblock because I had no paperwork to denote what little child support we received in the last 30 days (Yep, the donor is definitely not working, at least not at the same place, 5 months must be a record even for him, ffs). I went to direct deposit so they never send me any paperwork and the amount was always varying based on his hours/income. So now before they can process my application, I have to get proof of that to them. I had a steel cage match with my printer trying to get paper unstuck and eek out enough ink just to print the page of deposits from my bank. (PRINTERS ARE FUCKING EVIL AND I AM FAIRLY SURE SQUID INK IS AS PRICEY AS PLATINUM AS MUCH AS A CARTRIDGE OF PRINTER INK GOES FOR!)…Now I gotta make another trip to town, but I am almost out of gas in the car. Which when the heating assistance people surveyed me on what programs could be used locally to assist people in the community more and I pointed out that basic hygiene products- toilet paper, shampoo, etc, are not covered by food benefits and if every cent you have goes to rent and power, you could always use help with that. And maybe a fuel card cos asking for transportation is a little silly when you own and a license and insure a car and the only reason you can’t take yourself wherever is cos you can’t afford gas…They also asked how better they could help disabled people and I told them to help me find something I can do from home. But at this time, the shrink won’t sign off saying I am sane enough (okay, they use the term stable enough, but ya know what they mean) to work. I’d like to think he is looking out for my best interests no matter how shitty our circumstance but honestly…I think they just worry that declaring a clearly unstable person ‘stable enough’ for work could lead to the client ya know, attacking people with sporks or ripping off clothing and product testing some chainsaws on customers…

Then I tried to get our meds refilled, the doc is adding an extra 10mg to Spook;s regime but of course…INSURANCE DELAYED THIS PRESCRIPTION AT THIS TIME. Another trip to town.

I came home to the internet being down since 6 p.m. last night.

And I am so grief stricken and frustrated and just plain sad…I want to go to sleep. I can’t enjoy TV shows. I’ve been snuggling with the remaining kittens but I think they are getting a little annoyed with the needy weepy human. And my kid hasn’t shed a tear over the loss of Pasha. It’s like nothing even happened. She keeps asking why I am sad. And she reminds me of the emotionally crippled people around me like my family or R who really do just shake off grief like it is nothing and look down on people who take more time to grieve. God, I don’t want her to be like them. I told her it is okay to cry when sad things happen or when you just feel sad and need to cry. I don’t think it’s making an impact but perhaps I expect too much from a ten year old.

So…anyway. This year, I am not going to do a fundraiser. It just adds to me feeling so pathetic and greedy even when we are in fact in need. I am not gonna beg or grovel or guilt trip or even ask.

I am just gonna post the link to our paypal account and should the giving spirit/season move someone…we would be grateful.

I Wanna Be An Ice Queen

Posted in anxiety, depression, S.A.D, seasonal affect disorder with tags , , , , , , , on November 12, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

9 days ago I was hanging laundry out on the line to dry.

Today it is 8 degrees and the outdoors is essentially a snow covered ice rink.

Talk about something to make the seasonal affective disorder kick into overdrive. That is a massive, abrupt shift for everyone, let alone someone with seasonal depression. Throw in inability to get warm, cramps, and a sick cat and well…If you were looking for sunshine to be spewed here today, move along.

I fretted all night long because the school deemed the roads fit and my kid told me she had a bad feeling and didn’t trust the bus driver…Then my dad told me how their SUV did a 180 and almost landed in a ditch. So I got the bad juju in my gut and this morning, when dad called and said even his boss-who lives near my kid’s school-told him not to bother even trying to get over there, too dangerous. I kept my kid home, claiming lingering stomach issues from yesterday. Fuck this school district. I don’t want my kid to miss school but if someone-with 60 years driving experience-is being told by their own boss not to brave the roads because they are so dangerous- well, I have learned to heed the bad juju. Someone was killed in an accident on the road yesterday in a different county so…neurotic as it may be, I kept her home. And for once, my dad didn’t give me grief, he told me he’d rather have her safe than stranded on the road or turned over in a ditch.

The ironic thing-and forgive me if I misuse the term irony, when dad called yesterday morning before the worst of the snow and rain, he told me “Roads don’t scare me none.” Six hours later after a trip 50 miles away to his doctor and them nearly wrecking even in a 4 wheel drive…he changed his tune fast and said it scared the hell out of him.

Tomorrow I am just gonna have to suck it up as I have two very important back to back appointments. I will just have to drive slow and try to remain careful and focused.

Not looking forward to telling the new telepsych that I am feeling shittier instead of better but I will try to explain how the hormonal surges mess with my mental state. And I don’t know many people who, while in physical pain, can say they ‘feel good’. The only thing that is soooooooo much better is the raise in Xanax. The panic attacks have pretty much subsided, yay. I mean that as in pompom waving YAY!, not sarcatic ho hum monotone yay. After a year of being ravaged by panic attacks every single day, this is a good thing. Even my paranoid anxiety is lessened, though social situations can spark it. One thing positive-the shitty weather prevented dad and stepmomster from stampeding into my kingdom.

LOL. My kingdom. Sounds narcissistic AF. But it is less ego and more like “this is my safe space, it is my fortress to protect me from the outside threats that set off my panic”. So it is a very old modest kingdom filled with used and mismatched stuff, but it is our kingdom that unfortunately, is located in Armpit, USA. Think I felt less ashamed spending 9 years in the trashiest trailer park for 100 miles. But I worked years to make that a safe space and because it was so iffy, it did ward off visitors well. Now that we are in a house thus ‘more respectable’ by society’s idiotic standards…it seems to draw people to us. Good thing my mood swings and neuroses are basically a social deterrent.

I am feeling low today and wishing that my raging emotions could just ice over and turn me into a numb emotion free ice queen. But that’d be taking the easy way out, going back on lithium. And man, for me, lithium is the ultimate numbing agent. With no highs and not even enough available emotions to express proper grief or anger or happiness…novacaine for the brain. I can’t handle the side effects and I can’t stand the numbness in the long term. But when the feelings are raging and it overwhelms me, I wouldn’t mind a break from it all. I want to write so damn badlu, get lost in fiction, feel something other than all this sadness and frustration and anger. I even started binge watching True Blood for a second time for inspiration back into my vampire world.

I stayed up til 11:45, for a change, but never did get the gumption to sit at my desk and face the blinking cursor of doom. It’s almost like I am phobic of trying to write about anything but my own misery and medi-go-round. The weather and having my kid home probably isn’t helping. But it isn’t just that. I am back to battling filling ice cube trays. We are out of clean plates because when I went on my cleaning frenzy, I only kept a fraction of what we have and put the rest in the shed…And SANE people just do the damn dishes when they run out of plates. Hell, normal people wash them before it gets that far. I went through this a few weeks back letting every spoon and fork in the place get dirty. Then I ran out of paper plates and started cooking on occasion and now…the build up is back. Having to heat water on the stove then drag it over to the sink and make sure it stays hot enough to get the plates clean, and make sure I have clean rinse water…I gotta get the hot water heater and faucet fixed. Oh and the dryer…

There I thought I was digging my way out from under it all and ya know what? It just keeps coming. Lather, rinse, repeat. This is life. How does anyone get joy out of doing the same things over and over with no end in sight? Oh, maybe because they don’t live under a heavy depressive bubble choking the breath out of them on a daily basis.

But at which point do I have to stop blaming the depression and just admit…I hate doing housework and that is a flaw in my character and the depression may make it more challenging but the bottom line is, I am the problem?

I think the deciding factor for me is, it doesn’t merely impact things I do not like to do. It envelopes everything I do, even what normally is pleasant. That truly is depression in the clinical, crippling sense.

Maybe I could go stand outside with no gloves or coat and become a numb ice queen.

My luck it’d just make me feel all these insane emotions more deeply and give me frostbite and pneumonia.

I warned you. No sunshine and rainbows being barfed up here. They froze mid air during the spewing.

That’s a lie, I am not doing sunshine and rainbows right now but it sure paints an adequate picture of the current weather here.

Hell In A Skin Suit

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , on November 11, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Yet again, a reference from television that sparks resonance in me. “Hell In A Skin Suit” was used to describe the struggle some have with the inner chaos of their own mind. I like it. It makes me think of Supernatural or Men In Black where shapeshifters wear ‘meat suits’ or whatever. That gives me a brief smile. Until I realize the validity of the term to describe mental health struggles.

Today I am in PMDD pain hell, not even an ibuprofen/Tylenol mix is helping. My kid decided she was sick this morning- then made a miraculous recovery in like ten minutes. I think she just didn’t want to attend the Veteran’s Day program the school is putting on as I write this. Stage fright or something. But it is the first day she has missed this year so I am not gonna sweat it too much. Though it does make me wonder how band is going to work out for her, if she is afraid to simply stand on a stage with three other grades and sing along to words she’s had to recite for three years now.

My dad called to ask about going to the program since he is a veteran then started cussing when I told him she wasn’t feeling well and I thought maybe she had a nervous tummy. (Tummy induced toilet issues are NOT funny or something you ‘snap out of’, believe me.) I don’t know why he thinks how I raise my kid is his business. He told me not to let her start doing it all the time and it’s like, ffs, she hasn’t missed a single day since September til now. And for all I know, she could have inherited my seasonal affective disorder, which on a cold rainy, snowy day really does impact you mentally and physically. He and stepmonster tend to idealize their own upbringings with very strict fathers, as if proud they got beaten because it made them ‘tougher, better people.’ Problem with that is, the way they were raised is now considered brutal abuse verbally and physically. The way their fathers-and mothers- treated them is pretty close to criminal even by standards of 40 years ago. Maybe it made them stronger, but it also made them so lacking in empathy, so emotionally stunted, that they can’t put themselves in anyone’s shoes but their own and therefore their way is superior and I am doing it all wrong. I am not opposed to the occasional swat on the butt when Spook is acting out, but I am not about to use a belt or scream how useless she is and that I will beat her if she doesn’t get her ass outside and reassemble a tractor engine and get it right the first time or there will be more spankings…Geesh. Idealizing abusive parents and I am the one who needs mental health treatment?

I am currently in a state of dread, waiting for the…doom and gloom parade. It was just supposed to be my stepmonster coming over to replace the sink faucet Spook broke,but the weather quashed dad’s work day so that means it will be both of them trudging in through the rain and snow and cussing and yelling at me and my dad never misses a chance to insult the way the place smells, even if it smells like Yankee Candle fresh cupcakes. When your own father is more critical than the landlord, it’s pretty fucking sad. And like my dad can talk, they have so much grease behind their stove on the wall you’d need a chisel to remove it. Oh and air conditioners piled up on coffee tables and dishes stacked in the sink and on the deep freeze. Now as long as I don’t have to do the housework, I could not care less if they want to leave food out to grow their own antibiotics grow house. But when he comes in and insults MY home and housekeeping, well, judgement is free flying. Few weeks ago maybe he’d have had a valid point, it got pretty bad during the wrongly medicated NP months but…I fixed it, I half ass got my shit together, and it’d be nice for once if he had just one positive thing to say. Hell, he doesn’t even credit me with raising Spook alone all these years and honestly, I am the only in my family who has ever raised a kid alone so I think I am due a modicum of respect. It’d have been easy to just flake out like her father did, sign myself into a hospital, and just sink into my hellish skin suit.

But I did not do that and I know it’s common sense to do right by your kids, but still…I was the one everyone doubted from the get go, if I could handle being a parent, while they all still thought the donor walked on water. Yet I did not walk out 8 years ago and never look back like he did. I am still here, doing my best, even when my kid hits me, gets bad grades, can’t get along with others, has more mood swings than I do…and makes me think I can’t do anything right on a daily basis…I am still here and not using my mental health issues as an excuse to avoid the responsibility-and yes, sometimes suckiness, of parenthood. Yet my own dad can’t even be supportive and encouraging of that. But yeah, that abusive upbringing of his worked out just fine, what a fine example of great mental health and the ability to forge emotional connections and express feelings…NOT.

I had a ‘seethe and burn’ period last night when I got a reply from the school’s band teacher. She mentioned three times that she ‘meant’ to call me but did not get around to it. Then she said there was little expense involved as long as the saxophone does not need repair and that she thought it was wonderful how ‘our community’ rallied to donate a sax and the reeds and case so Spook could participate in what she really wanted to do. Then made me feel like crap because Spook kept telling them we couldn’t afford it, so of course, involving my kid in money matters makes me a bad parent. This woman completely missed the point that Spook had been told no, I had not signed consent, and she defied me and went behind my back and not one single adult called me. Instead she made me feel like I was being unreasonable and ungrateful to the people who donated the band stuff to Spook. This could have ALL been avoided had this woman taken the time to make sure to call me, assure me that the equipment had indeed been donated and not some kids giving away stuff behind their parents’ backs, and stated that the expense should be minimal. Is that asking too much, to be included in my child’s life as I am her parent? I felt totally usurped, insulted, and I wanted soooo badly to fire back an indignant response but…

I am hormonal and not thinking clearly so I let myself sleep on it. And I am just going to let it go because obviously, this woman does not get it at all, that Spook defied me and not one school official could be bothered to contact me.

My own gut is knotting just waiting to see when dad and stepmonster come tromping through. God, they are so loud and all they do is cuss each other and complain and it’s just very upsetting to my calm and safe space. I had like 12 people tromping through for 2 weeks, I am not prepared for Redneck Cage Match in my kitchen. I have tried to talk to them about just showing up without a call and they just tell me to get over it, they are helping me and it is on their time table. Which is why I rarely ask them for help with anything. If you’re just gonna use it to hold me hostage and be rude to my request for basic courtesy call before showing up…keep your damn help, the price is too high. I was okay when it was just stepmonster but now…It’s kinda like waiting for the grim reaper to show at your door only the reaper is your genetic material donor who apparently does not like you much.

They are all judgey because my nephew and his wife are expecting and they just got married in May. Neither of them have steady incomes but they do live in their own income based place and she is finishing beauty school so…Butt the fuck out, let them learn to be adults, good and bad. I think they are too young, but then I get to wondering if I’d had Spook when I was younger, maybe I’d have had more energy to be ‘fun mommy’. There just are no correct answers, you gotta let people do their own thing and if it is a mistake…they will learn it and they will have to pay the consequences. I wished them congratulations and tried to be suportive.

I guess there was also a public altercation when my sister ran into stepmonster at a store and she went around telling everyone that we are her daughters. She is two years younger than me, biologically impossible for me to be her kid, and it is disrespectful to our mother who birthed us and raised us. Guess my sis pissed her off, but it’s true. She isn’t even legally married to our dad so us even calling her a stepmom should be something she is grateful for. But no, she’s so important in her own mind, she even has to claim what my mother put in all the hard work for.I’ve tried to respect her relationship with dad and I even included her as a grandparent in Spook’s birth announcement (my mom was not amused). If she’d just get it through her head that we are her STEPKIDS and quit disrespecting our mom. Not like our mom goes around claiming that stepmonster;s son is hers.

Hell in a skin suit. Yep. Wearing it loud and proud today. Boy will the new psych doc be impressed with my progress. NOT. Gonna have to go through the rigamorole again, as I do with every new doc or nurse, about how the monthly PMDD impacts my mental state. They never note it in my chart ‘because that is a problem for your primary care physican.” Who in turn bounces back with, “I can’t attest to the impact this will have on your bipolar, you need to talk to your specialist.” BLOODY HELL, THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO WORK TOGETHER TO COORDINATE MY CARE AND ALL THEY DO IS PASS THE BUCK AND I AM THE ONE GETTING SCREWED.

Yes, all caps were necessary because it is a frustrating situation.

Today I am so low I can’t even enjoy tv shows. Lest the gloom mongers come knocking on my door. Every sound has me on red alert. Basic socialization should not be this difficult and certainly not with people who are supposed to love you. Yet..this is my reality. Hell in a skin suit. And it isn’t even slimming!

Trudge And Sludge: This Is Life

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , on November 10, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

A commercial this morning really drove home the point of life: It is, for most of us, trudge and sludge, day after day. I think what makes it more challenging, at least for me, is that my mental state constantly shifts, depending on mood, anxiety, activity level, social interaction, monthly hormonal changes. I can’t count on feeling the same way every single day. I spent two weeks on a relatively functional ‘high’ then came crashing back down. Part of it is indeed hormonal issues which will eventually subside (just to occur again next month, egad) but the start of new medications, two at the same time, and increase in another, well it’s a bumpy ride. And it is just beginning because the dosages can be raised again, which if the current mental state is any indication, it will be necessary and unavoidable.

I dream of stability within the walls of my own mind. More than money or success or love…I dream of living in the same mental space 24-7. Normal ups and downs brought on by situational issues as opposed to random “I want to die” thoughts followed by “I feel pretty good today, life may not be so sucky after all.” Usually the Lamictal takes care of the abrupt shifts in mood but with the new med regime, it’s kind of gone to hell in a handbasket. I mean, I am not flying off the handle or crying or going manic, but I do swing from low to lower then to middle then back down. After 26 years of med adjustments you’d think I’d be used to it. I am not. It irritates me and pisses me off.

Adding to my chagrin of ‘sludge and trudge’ daily life is the fact that much as I need calm and routine to some degree…the monotany wears me down. Different day, same shit. But if I have something on the agenda like a dr appointment or school event, it upsets the delicate balance of my calm routine and I slide downward. It’s like The Princess and the Pea. I can’t get comfortable, ever. And I am so far from being princessy (I eat food off the floor and don’t even care if it’s the 5 second rule, whatever) but never finding a happy medium is torturesome.

I get sick of complaining. I hate myself for complaining. I wish I could just snap out of it, bury it all, compartmentalize, get over it. BE NORMAL. And I have always despised the term normal because normal is ugh, boring…But when it comes to mental state, normal would be a welcome change. To wake up in the morning full of energy and positivity rather than pulling the cover over my head and hoping my kid sleeps an extra 10 minutes because I am not ready to face another day of being in the darkness of my own mind.

Shrinks have said I bring on the darkness because I listen to heavy metal, wear black, and dig Halloween and horror movies. They could not be more wrong. Those things have always made me happy. They are darkness I can escape if I CHOOSE to do so. Mental health issues, not so much. It’s like I get little say in the matter and whatever control I have over my brain is limited to not Z Whacking people or having screaming mimis. And that’s years of training myself to paste on the happy face and voice and grit my way through the feelings of anger and aggression. I wish I could ‘train’ my brain to just be happy no matter how shitty the circumstances.

Depression does not work that way.

So another day trudging in the sludge. This is life. My life, anyway.Keep fucking going.

I am just exhausted from living this way. And what scares me even more is that it will never change even for a few days. Too long spent in a depression really brings out your inner doom and gloom monger.

Is it any wonder so many of us crave manic episodes as much as we crave stability?

More terrifying is the prospect of having to go back on Lithium in addition to the Lamictal to curb all this up and down stuff. I’d rather gouge out my eyes than put up with lithium side effects and the lab work.

You’d think over the course of 60 years they’d find a way to make such an effective medication less riddled with side effects that make it nearly impossible to tolerate.

What a dreamer I am.