Archive for the health Category

Spoons, Sporks, Forks, Done, Queen Cobra

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression, health with tags , , , , , on May 21, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I am finally sitting still after running all morning. My spoon/spork allotment is zilch, I used them all getting my kid to the doctor, rushing her 15 miles to Armpitopia school, rushing back to town 15 miles to make my job interview with like two minutes to spare…Stick a fork in me, I am done.

The interview was relaxed and I think it went well, though I can never seem to shake the underlying “I am a fraud, I am not fit to work when I can’t even keep my laundry folded.” I hate being forced into this position, I truly wanted to return to work ‘the right way’. One year on stable med cocktail through the winter depression, that is my litmus test. I don’t have the luxury.

Anyway, the lady that interviewed me said they have multiple interviews through tomorrow for only 3 open spots but I could always apply for their thrift store. Cos being a numerically dyslexic cashier sounds like a great idea that could not possibly result in me giving someone their own twenty dollar bill back because numbers so easily confuse me and mix me up.

More bad news, even though I only have $835 a month income, it would still cost me $85 minimum per month, plus $8 gas times 5 days a week for nine weeks, to get Spook into the summer camp there. I simply don’t have it. I might be able to eek gas money, or eek out the camp fee, but I can’t do both. Stupid fucking donor screws up everything for that kid. She’d be so much better off with that program all summer. They take them swimming and to game playplaces and they feed them two meals and a snack…Plus she’d make new friends and get out of the house. But unless I stumble across $240 by June 11th, she won’t be able to go. And even with that paid, I’d still need gas money. I can’t even get a fast food interview, apparently submitting a resume for those jobs automatically excludes you as being ‘too fancy’. Ffs.

On top of this, the new pediatrician thinks Spook may have a ‘slight’ curvature of the spine which is why she is so uncomfortable and unable to touch her toes and is so clumsy. So now she has to get an X-ray. It terrifies me either way because one, she gets that backbrace the kids will torture her about, or two, she needs surgery, and I just don’t see how she’s been that impaired by not being able to touch her toes. Leave it to me to pick the one competent doctor in town who is willing to challenge insurance and get these tests paid for. I have her also set up for some ADHD test, as well as a child psych, and a referral for a psychiatric eval. Shit’s getting real now and it makes me wonder if I have overdramatized things. I know I haven’t though. I still don’t think there’s anything too wrong with her spine. She’s 4 foot nine, 100.8 pounds and perfectly healthy and sometimes happy. I mean, she begged me to take her back to school today as opposed to going to grandma’s or staying home, so apparently her depression and low self esteem only apply to school days when a classmate is having a birthday party with treats.

I am wiped. I fed myself and got back into warm slobby jammies. I went back to sleep around 5 a.m. but I bolted up at 7:30, thinking it was later and I’d missed her appointment. Starting the day in a panic after a night of start and stop sleep and bizarre dreams is not to my liking. One thing, though, I should sleep well tonight. I thought for sure I’d get home and be able to nap but scumbag brain rebels again. Now I have 6 hours at least before I can tune out and try to rebuild the spoon/spork supply and face another day.

This cold damp weathwr ain’t helping at all, for some reason, my housekeeping giddy up requires it to be summy and relatively warm. That is unlikely cos though the temps are going back up to 80’s then 70’s, we have 7 straight days calling for 50% plus rain chances. Fuck’s sake, I can’t escape seasonal depression even during fucking spring because fucking Illinois and fucking Mother Nature can’t stop forcefeeding me the cold and bringing the seasonal symptoms back in spades.

Yes, I needed to say fucking all those times, it was necessary. Cathartic even. Because I feel fucking exhausted and fucking hopeless and fucking pissy. My brother has the IQ and maturity of a bath sponge but he can get a job and I can’t. And I hate my toxic father being in my head, pointing that out to me every single day by mentioning ‘your brother is working today’, like that helps at all. And I fucking wish the donor would just fucking die already since he’s done nothing to help his kid and everything to hurt her.

Maybe if I ever get 7 solid hours of sleep, I will be less venomous and hateful. For now…call me Queen Cobra.


Spoons, Sporks, And Monsoons

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression, health, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , on May 11, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I’ve already had my dose of fresh hell this morning that took pretty much ALL my spoons for the day. We needed a bag of cheap litter, a bottle of melatonin, and a jar of pizza sauce so I can make cheese pizza later. I asked my dad if they had any work I could to do to earn $3-$5. This resulted in being told all about their own troubles (they’re getting haircuts today, just paid property taxes in cash, and are eating out for the third day in a row, oh boo fucking hoo for them, and she doesn’t even have to work,ffs.) He guilted me. Told me to go to Mickey D’s open interviews ( cos I didn’t do that six months ago only to not hear a fucking word!) and since they hired my brother, they’ll hire me too then I can carpool and take him to work with me and they will take care of my kid and have her pushing gas mowers all summer…

There. went. all. my spoons.

The man just cannot get it through his head that IF THEY WON’T HIRE YOU, IT DOESN’T MATTER HOW MANY TIMES YOU KEEP TRYING. And I have a sneaking suspicion of why I was deemed unhireable by that place but it makes me sound like a paranoid assclown. Only thing is, I worked management and this sort of thing happens constantly. Someone applies for a job, they come in to talk to management, and then another employee says oh, I know them, they’re weird, don’t hire them…and often it really IS that simple and I only believe it because being inside the management circle, I saw it happen. He’s had the same job 43 years, he has no fucking clue. And I would rather starve and move to live on my mom’s sofa than let them ‘babysit’ and put my kid to slave labor. She’s not even ten yet and barely has the strength to push an old reel mower, let alone a gas one.

This will make me very hated by you, I am sure, but the truth is what it is and lately, I’ve been counting down til my dad is dead and I am finally fucking FREE of him, of his woman, of their man child.

But let’s play devil’s advocate here so I don’t look so overreative and mental. My kid and I have an eye doctor appointment Tuesday at 11 a.m. Open interviews are that day at 1:30. So do I take her along  cos I sure as hell don’t have enough gas to bring her back to Armpitopia school district then go back to town then come back home, that’s like 80 miles and I will be lucky if the gas in the car now gets me through all of our appointments this month. He made no offer to help me with the gas thing, and had no answer as to me taking her along with me except it probably wouldn’t look good to not have adequate child care…The week after this, my kid has a well kid check up in the morning. I am already calling her off for the day because even if the appointment is over by ten thirty, I’d still have to make that 80 plus mile trip to take her to district school then  back to town for open interviews. (Oh, and for the record, the McDonald’s job listings have been listed as filled on all my on line site notifications, indeed, snag, ziprecruiter,etc).

I’m just so fed up with that man in my fucking space. And it was my own doing cos we need litter and melatonin, and yes, for $3 even on a cold rainy ass day I am willing to work for it  cos I buy from the dollar store, LITERALLY, so three items, three bucks. I can’t do it til Tuesday since I am low on gas in the car but I am trying to do right by offering to do work and earn what I need. It’s not like I said give it to me cos I am your kid and I am fucking marvelous! Such a cold hearted dickbag, my dad. And my mom is back in nasty mode, too, telling me how awful I am for punishing my kid for breaking her THIRD tablet. “We’ll just buy her another one, get off your high horse!” That is a problem, that is why she breaks everything, cos gramma and auntie will just buy more stuff.

Never a good sign when I need a Xanax before 11 am.

But we’re on dog duty for the day and it’s bloody miserable and then I gotta towel dry the dogs after each time and then they need cuddle comforted cos the rain upsets them…God, dogs are a lot of fucking work and neediness. Spook can do the comfort thing. I’m too pissed off and defeated.

At this point I’d wipe up a nasty ass peep show booth if it meant not having my dad in my business and telling me what to do, because I have done it his way and it still isn’t working cos THEY DO NOT WANT TO HIRE ME, GODDAMN IT MOTHERFUCKER SON OF A BITCH ASSHOLE SHITFACE DICKBAG.

No, it was not necessary for me to swear that much, but it was cathartic for me.

swear a lot

Mostly, I just needed to vent. And another thing, working the same job as family members never goes well, I tried that with where my mom and my sis worked and there’s just this expectation that if they are great at something, you must be as well, and if not, then you’re a lazy loser and they are told about it…NOPE.

Ya know what I’d LOVE to do just for the sheer sleaziness that would embarrass my parents if they had to repeat my job? PORN SITE OPERATOR. It would make me giddy if they had to explain,”Oh, our daughter’s in internet porn…”

Muha ha ha ha. Whatever it takes to motivate me, and honestly, with overly critical heartless parents, sometimes your only victory is in embarrassing them. So if anyone knows of any ways to get into like foot fetish porn on line, I have a can of creamed corn, a camera, and big feet to slosh around in it. Yeah, I don’t know how anyone finds that a turn on.

As long as their credit card info is accurate, does it matter? A ghoul can dream…



Tuesday Bluesday

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression, health with tags , , , , on April 23, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I slept like crap last night. Kept waking up with a pounding heart and a racing mind. The bad dreams have become so realistic I can no longer tell them from reality at times. Once Spook was off to school, I curled up under the covers and tried to just rest and not immediately head for the painkiller since my cramps are shredding through my belly to my spine. The cats kept knocking stuff over and I was yelling at them and getting so damn aggro…Sleep was welcome because when I get that upset and am this hormonal, it just leads to scenes of Linda Blair and pee soup and comments about maternal figures performing lewd acts in hell.

I feel a little better now, having napped. But we went from 80 degrees and sunny down to the low 60’s with gloom and wind, so my feet are freezing and I put on pants and a t-shirt as opposed to wearing a tank top and shorts yesterday. The weather up and downs are such a mindfuck for me. Cramps so painful they hurt my spine fuck with my head,too.

I was going to recharge then hit the job search again but I gotta write that letter to the current job for some sort of dispensation indicating I did all the right things and have met the court burder to rehab myself. Then I need multiple character reference letters from non family. Then I have to type up a statement of ownership about my crime and what I have done to better myself. Then I have to send it all to the state, at which point they can choose to reject it all.

Hard to get excited to get on that. And in my current emotional state, I can’t say I wouldn’t write up a ‘fuck you’ statement because it was a misdemeanor charge and I am going through this process like I robbed a bank or murdered someone. This is bullshit. Let go of your past. Wait, you did something wrong once in 46 years, so your past keeps you from moving forward. You jump through these spiked flaming hoops and don’t cry, we might consider you improved. Then again maybe our spouse pissed in our Cheerios the morning we read your documents and decide you’re still a loser.


Last week I was high functioning, even if I had to work in brief bursts and just keep hammering away.This week, I feel so drained and aching, I can barely work up the energy to feed myself even though my belly is growling. That high functionality costs a lot, for me, and the price versus what it gives back, often does not come close to balancing. That isn’t about gratification, it is about expanding what few spoons you have for the week and being left with nothing for the rest of the week. Things should nourish you so you at least retain half a spoon or can regain one or two.

I sound mad as a hatter, but it’s a thing, spoon/spork theory.

For now, I think I am going to put on socks cos my feet are cold and then…Maybe I will hit the painkiller mix of Tylenol and Motrin so the cramps and backache let up and maybe I can accomplish one or two things around the house. But if I am saying I am in pain and feeling lousy, it’s not an affectation or excuse. Ten days every month this is my life and I can take a joke and tee hee at the pms jokes but…there is nothing funny about PMDD, which is PMS on steroids and meth. But hey, what the hell, Carol Ann shared a link to this one yesterday and it made me smirk. Some days that is as close it I get to a laugh or smile.

Humpty Frumpty

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression, health with tags , , , , on April 21, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

In honor of egg and bunny day, I thought I’d liken myself to a cracked egg who cannot be properly reassembled ever again.

I’m not in boo hoo territory. I am PMDD hell. I woke multiple times during the night with a cramping back and belly and then I felt so shitty I didn’t even fill eggs and hide them as I have done for 7 years. I just set her stuff on the table, turned on the heat and fell face first back in bed. I literally could not keep my eyes. I tried to sit up and get focused and it just hurt and I ached and my eyelids felt like lead weights were dragging them down, pulling me back to hellish nightmare scape of my dreams. And there were some FUBAR and terrifying nightmares, one would think I should prefer being awake. My body and mind just weren’t on board.

So my kid plowed into her Easter stuff with wild abandon and kept shrieking every ten seconds and running to tell sleepy mommy thank you, you’re the best, I love you… And I tried to drag my ass out of bed, but my eyelids wouldn’t stay open. I kept nodding off, and then I had these dreams that felt real but were not real, like looking at the clock it and it was noon when in fact it was not even 8 a.m. yet…Very disconcerting.

I do not look forward to today. We first have to pop in to dad’s as my cancer battling aunt I barely know is going to be there and she wants to meet Spook. (My dad was just never close to her cos she lived 4 hours north and preaches religious stuff nonstop.) But when he said he wish she’d have kept on driving through the state and not contacted him, it was like, fuck, the woman’s getting chemo and radiation for stage 4 cancer and she apparently just wants to see her brother and his family for a little while. I guess his utter cruel rudeness made me realize that me being uncomfortable and ill at ease with a crowded room of people is the leat I can do when her own brother is such an ass.

From there we take my brother to his job, go spend 3 hours at my mom’s, pick my brother up, and bring him home then we can collapse home ourselves. Only by then my nephew and his fiancee will probably stop by and by that point, I am gonna be Psychotica. I have run, myself ragged this week and while others can make their derisive noises because ‘that is just life, grow up’…I know I am about to drop if my brain doesn’t get a much needed respite. It just won’t be tomorrow since Spook is off school. But at least I know why I am hurting and why my brain just wants to sleep, that is classic PMDD. It is brutal. I hope I don’t have some sort of hormonal meltdown with all the madness today. And anything more than 3 people is madness for me, so a house filled with 15 people-only 3 I am actually related to…argghh.

I will plaster 0on the happy face. I will pretend I want to be there. I will try not to lose my fucking mind with boredom or lose my shit because I am so far from my safe space. I am gonna try. Maybe if I just give myself permission to be Humpty Dumpty for a couple of days, I will become the whirlwind I was last week again for a day or two. Then starts the crash and burn cycle again. What matters is that I am trying.

Our fundraiser for an overnight summer trip and legal fund to get a lawyer with a brain cell alive inside his skull.

Hoppy Easter to all.

Bramble On…

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression, health with tags , , , , , , on April 19, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

So to make an introduction to my ‘brambling’…It’s like Big Ramble. And it is going to truly be written in random spurts on random topics (involving mental health and such). Much like my “Basic Black” poetry and my beautifully random blog , you will not find structure, or a common theme, or even coherent prose. What you will find is me at my most unfiltered but not harping on mental health (too much) problems. And FYI, I linked to Tuesday’s random post on that blog because I was quite proud of its varied content-humor, kittens, etc, and it gathered dust so…check it out, don’t check it out…If you like Collegehumor, though, do check it out, cos that shit is funny.
I struggled in town…

staying motivated, staying focused. I even took for utterly confused and blank on which direction and took a wrong turn to a place I’ve been hundreds of times before. It is those times that I truly fear how mentally impaired I am at times. Just blanking out like that freaked me the fuck out.
Not to mention the mere act of backing out of parking spaces and never being sure if my sight is good enough, am I focused, am I looking all directions…It’s kinda terrifying.
Also stressful..

the toddler kittens are 5 weeks old and into everything. It’s like trying to corral tiny little mischevious goats. I put them in the bathroom so I can have a break and also, they can be alone with the warm moistened food I gave them, otherwise the mama cats literally take food out of their kids’ mouths. I adore my furbabies, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t have tentacles and I just can’t keep up with 4 active toddlers on the loose, meowing when they find a space that scares them, then trying to climb shit…
My cat Vex pissed me off…

While I was gone that cockweasel climbed on my glass vanity, spilling my perfume and jewelry, knocking over my lava and skull lamps…and he burgled my beef jerky. Asshole. That stuff ain’t cheap and there aren’t many brands I truly find tasteful and tender enough. I thought I had it well hidden on top of a 6 and a half foot cabinet but…fail.
More job rejections.

I’m just not sandwich artist or buffalo wing server material. Or Blue Cross processing or a buyer for farm equipment or breakfast shift at Burger King…It’s dejecting, for sure, but I can only keep trying and aim for that healthcare waiver. Now I just gotta find 3 people willing to write me a reference letter attesting to my character and how much I have changed since that incident 15 years ago. I am so screwed. Part of my disorder is that I don’t go out, I don’t seek friends, I am…a loner and a homebody. Maybe the cats can type up something about how I don’t always get the food dish filled upon their command but I’m a pretty good egg.
My pharmacy of 16 years is closing down…

thanks to the damn chain pharmacies. I am not amused. Those people knew me name and face and they were helpful but now it’s all being transferred to CVS. Over my rotting corpse, I am gonna switch to Wal-green’s even though I don’t want to change at all. Got no choice. Least Walgreen’s isn’t Hellmart.
…No matter what I do….

for my kid, enthusiasm is dampened because I am competing with my mom, my sister, her friends, my dad and his crew…So she always seems disappointed, like if I get her a pair of shoes. Because I either buy used or clearance and she knows the other family/friends will go all out and there is no way I can win. Furthermore, I resent the hell out of it feeling like everyone competing to see who can buy her the most brand name stuff to show they love her and have her love them back.
Having said that…

If anyone has secondhand stuff they just want rid of (laptops running XP, included, we ain’t too proud for used, and for me, at least, I prefer used most of the time, like dvd players, VCR’s stereos, hell, even socks or laser mice for the computer.Half my kid’s Christmas stuff she is still playing with and hasn’t broken but was a used Magic Tracks a friend sent us, along with some magna thingies and her and her lil friend still love them. So hey, got older girls who have outgrown stuff…we’re not snotty. Ok, I’m not snotty, my kid may be snotty-ish thanks to my family preferring to buy frou-frou then gripe for 2 weeks how they are starving but I buy food and necessity and sometimes can’t afford frou-frou.

Okay, another random post that has….

dust bunnies after a few days.
If you missed the prime example of how insane it is that people need a license to fish but any idget can be a parent…
Yeah, yeah, I have…

my idget moments. But from the moment she was conceived to this very minute I have cared for her so I am a decent parent even in my idgetry.

Oh wow…

A friend just emailed me that my profanity laden email was immature and offensive. I keep rereading it and honestly, I don’t get it but I guess if I want to keep friends, I am gonna have to learn more civility. I mean, I REREAD IT AND I STILL DON’T SEE WHERE I WAS SO OFFENSIVELY PROFANE to anyone but um, ass trashers who deserve it. I took my cue from her as well as being true to myself and just talking the way I do in non-formal situations. She wants to do a legit phone call to discuss it like adults’, last time we used a call app with awful echo and sound quality (on my end) so maybe I misread her, Idk.
I do know this is why I avoid making friendsl. I am an acquired taste and some people just find me…abrasive, unlikeable, unemployable (how does one fail the personality test for ‘sub sandwich artist???).
I will give it another try and attempt to be less abrasive me but outside employers interviewing me or handling church and school matters… I am who I am and the people who get me as I am and love me as I am, well, they wouldn’t consider me offensive and profane and immature. My own father the other day said, “You need to take out a hitman on the donor, fuck him.”
I don’t think Armpit and Buttcrack have hitmen, and I can’t pay, and also, I WOULD NOT DO THE JAIL THING COS ONLY PROTECTING MY KID OR CATS WOULD CAUSE ME TO GO OVER THAT EDGE again.
I had so much hope for this new friendship but I think I am just too…me. And that isn’t wrong, it’s just a bad fit like shoes that are too tight.
Still makes me sad. I try my best. But I can’t be anything but me and me is profane and offensive sometimes.
Which is FUBAR…

cos daily I gripe about how much of a dickbag my dad is to me, but difference is, he doesn’t feel the least bit bad when he is rude or hurtful.
I feel terrible, pretty much every time. I believe the psych pros call that a ‘conscience’.

To get this healthcare worker waiver I need to do their paperwork, I need multiple written reference letters stating I am rehabilitated, I need to get the discharge court papers, then I need to write to the judge and request that he consider granting the waiver, at his discretion, and even doing all my penance, he is not obligated to grant the waiver…
There is a part of me who wishes I had just lied my ass last year for the Mickey D’s interview and said crowds and noise don’t impact me. Because it doesn’t bother my man child brother, my dad seems to think I should be instantly hired. His perception of reality is non existent. Anyone can do repetitive work and excel under close supervision. Not all of us can perservere in a noisy, hectic demanding environment that triggers the very mental health issues we’re trying to contend with.
And hey, least I can drive myself back and forth to work, unlike my brother. Ability and intelligence are such two very different things.

my sister had to PLEAD with our mutual friends for those reference letters because, as I’ve said before, most of the peopel around me consider writing a form of torture. I kinda feel like I’m gonna end up owing someone an organ donation of some sort to repay these people for ‘writing’ a reference.
I ain’t saying anyone is stupid or unable, just saying they truly hate writing, typing, and getting involved.

I filled out a job app yesterday and dated it the 16th, then today I keep thinking it’s the 17th, but it isn’t. Numbers are my bloody nemesis. Is it any wonder I struggle to pay bills on time? I am always getting the date wrong, always getting lost in directions, always getting confused…
Really does not make one look competent and stable.
Spook is home, allegedy on kitten duty to give me a break…

Her ‘help’ is more unfocused and stressful than my own abilities. I need 13 eyeballs and tentacles to keep up with these 5 week old kittens. She kept telling me that I was failing, she knows how to do it, she can be the kitten whisperer…Now she is dealing with Kitten-houdinis and apologized to me cos…they are a handful. Adorable, sweet kittens but wow, soooo active.
Have I ever mentioned that the power supply/charger I am using for this computer is 10 years old and swiped from my DOA HP netbook? And if I try to pull the thing into my lap, the charger pieces come undone and it’s just like…bloody hell, years now, and I can’t get a proper charger/power supply.
This is why I really really like desktops. If I wanna play music or play AVI shows, I don’t have to move a thing, just gotta work with the fact it cannot be moved.
GonnaP retro here and ask…


I have tried and tried to be consistent in tags and catgories but it doesn’t seem to matter, what the bloody hell? And fucked up as it is, the posts I slapped together without forethought or lucidity got more likes than meaningful topics I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Same goes for my random blog and my poetry blog.

I shouldn’t give a damn. Yet I still want to reach a broader audience cos I cannot bear the thought of of people out there battling depression and anxiety not coming across this blog in which they are embraced, empathized with, and encouraged.

Is my my narsisism showing?

It really is just meant as a connection to those who may be strolling in the same shoes as me and need a virtual high five.

My on line friends have saved my butt so many times in so many ways…

I just want to pay it forward.

Fundraiser Update:

Posted in depression, health with tags , , , , , , on April 15, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

You can read about it here.

Bottom line, we need about $300 by next Tuesday to keep service, the another $270 by April 2nd. THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS is the only thing keeping us from our goal which is to not lose electricity right now.


The only reason I’ve linked to paypal here is because receiving funds through gofundme can take up to 5 business days and this disconnect notice’s shelf life will expire before that.

Please help us.

Do Or Die Time-Please Repost, Share, and Help Any Way You can

Posted in depression, employment, health with tags , , , , , , , on April 13, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

job search screen shot

So I started a fundraiser, in addition to setting up paypal
to take donations.

I am also going to put in some photos to show my monthly income, how many months we have been without any child support payments, and proof that I AM looking for work.

We need to be shown some love, guys.

Please please please…This is to keep the power turned on, it’s very important. Plus legal fees, the cost of a new psych doc, and to afford the newer treatments insurance won’t cover…THIS IS IMPORTANT.

Happy Caturday and bless you all.