Archive for the Ramble Category

The Babylon Files-Tuesday Babble

Posted in anxiety, depression, Ramble with tags , , , , , , , on August 15, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

In a nod to one of my all time fave hair metal bands, Faster Pussycat, I have dubbed the mindless day long rambles as “Babylon” as the lyrics of their song goes, “They won’t shut up, they just keep babbling on and on…” How fitting for my mindless random thoughts during the course of a day. This was from yesterday but I figured I can spare the hotspot data to post it. Life without unlimited internet access SUCKS.
It hasn’t been 24 hours with the internet down and already my equilibrium is shattered. The anxiety is immense, I am on the edge of my seat, waiting for the next shoe to drop. I keep telling myself to go do something but I can’t shake the ‘deer in the headlights’ mental paralysis. Which is unlike yesterday where I kicked ass and took names with the lawn. I don’t understand why I can’t just find some consistency in mental states as far as anxiety goes. Every day is a mixed bag, a surprise of paranoia,and fear of ‘what will go wrong next?’
Living life on the edge this way is not to my liking and yet…so often it has been all I’ve known. The current living situation is in itself unsettling. For awhile I thought I was gaining acceptance and settling in. Instead, I keep thinking back to the solace of our squalid trailer where at least I had a shower instead of only a bath. These little things have a lot to do with mental tranquility. Change is very difficult for me. It’s been over a year since the move and I still can’t think of this place as anything other than ‘bad luck’. Yet the prospect of another move, even if it was financially possible, is too overwhelming to contemplate. I am a homebody and since home is the only place I feel truly safe…Holding onto even an unhappy situation seems crucial.
It never ceases to amaze me how I can live in hoarder conditions yet overflowing trash cans or things even an inch from where I am used to them being throws me off balance. There is something very wrong with my brain.
To distract myself from the hellish paranoia and paralysis I took some stuff out to the shed. I’ve been putting it off for months because most of it was toys my kid weeded through but now it’s done. Not that it made much difference. I can’t control the clutter which was why I quit going to yard sales. But leave it to my dad to go to auctions and keep pawning stuff on me even when I make it clear I have no room. He is pushy and does the same to my sister. Not that they don’t find good deals sometimes but geesh, he bitches about my clutter yet makes it worse when I am saying no more. Forget buying a vowel, the man needs to buy a hearing aid or two and some self awareness.
You know I am nervous big time when I need to pee every fifteen minutes and start breaking out in hives. Does not help that when I get sweaty due to exertion, heat, or anxiety, I have a skin condition where it reacts to my own sweat and makes me break out in splotches and itchiness.
Sick of Spam calls. Unfortunately my cheapie phone does not have a block function so I am left to be stalked by these idgets. I know they have a job to do and I can respect that but trying to tell me my car warranty is out and they can help is fucking stupid when my car is a $450 model 2001. Warranty wore out long before I got the car. And trip advisors, ha ha ha, like I can afford a trip anywhere.
The price of a deep depression…things are let slide because you can barely get out of bed and do the bare minimum being a parent and pet owner. So when you do go to pick it up no matter how much you accomplish, you find more that needs done so you flog yourself for being such a loser who can’t even keep up with what others do every single day with multiple kids and full time jobs and other obligations. No one seems to grasp this part of depression. They think we are lazy, slackers, slobs, and they never think how it batters our self esteem and leads to self loathing. Small consistent efforts worked at first. Until the depression got really bad during winter and then…Just doing dishes and keeping laundry clean while tending to kid and cats became my bar to meet. Beyond that…I just didn’t have the strength or mental stability. It’s not a cop out, it is a fact, and I really wish I had a close friend who wouldn’t judge me and who could come in and help me get the place tip top so we don’t get tossed out should the wrong people see the clutter and report me as an unfit mom. Sadly, I don’t have anyone like that and I can’t afford to hire help. So I chisel away at it in bits and pieces and hope for the best.
A TV show just said, “You cannot let people live rent free in your head, it’s not healthy.” Okay, now directions on how to evict the assholes…
My kid is the one starting 5th grade tomorrow yet I am the one experiencing anxiety and dread. I set the alarm for the routine and then got this awful feeling that on one antidepressant alone going into seasonal depression, what if I can’t get moving in the mornings? Sure, lately I have been waking between 6 and 7 even with no alarm but as the season change nears, I know what is coming and I am scared. Scared of failing as a parent, fear of somehow impacting her with my depressive abyss and high strung anxiety level. I wish there was an anxiety button you could just flip off.
1:22 p.m. and I am already counting down til bedtime. I was gonna run to the gas station but the paranoia and panic have set in, keeping my glued in place and ‘scared’ to go out. It isn’t physical fear, it’s just illogical anxiety. Sometimes I can fight through it. Other times, it owns me. Today, it is in charge. I hate it.
It’s nearing 5 p.m. and I am starting to feel some relief from the panxiety. Three and half more hours til Spook goes to bed so I can too. I’m looking forward to it, but then, when don’t I look forward to the solace of sleep. My dreams may sometimes be sad or scary but I can wake from them. I can’t wake up from reality.

It’s Been Awhile…Time For a Good Rant and Ramble

Posted in anxiety, depression, Ramble with tags , , , , , , , , , , on August 9, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Okay, so my chaotic thinking makes most of my points come across as incoherent rants. But I have been trying to keep the theme consistent at least. Today I just wanna let loose on random events of late, so buckle your seatbelt, take your motion sickness pills, and let’s get read to ramble…

Last Thursday about did me in. I made six trips to town and back, had to go to another town to register my kid for school. Friday was the camp picnic and swim for family. I drove around the park three times and couldn’t find them. They texted me but because the laws on phone use have tightened I leave it in my purse, and because loud noise startles me, I keep the volume low so I didn’t get the text til hours after the fact. I heard my daughter screaming my legal name across a pond and she knows I hate that but it got my attention so I drove around and joined the picnic.

The pool was a hell of its own. First thing, one of the kids asked me if I was pregnant. NOPE, JUST FAT. Grr, it happens all the time and has since I was 12 years old. My family has a pear shaped body and we all carry our weight in poofy bellies. My sister got down to a size 6 but could’t shake the genetic loser lottery and her belly poof remains. I wish people would just shut the hell up. I know, it was a kid, but still…My first time in a swimsuit in public in 30 years and an insult right out of the gate. For awhile my kid and I had fun, I was teaching her to do flips in the water and watching her go down the slide. Then she volunteered me to watch this one girl, she used to live in the trailer park, and man, she is a spoiled undisciplined brat who wants the world to revolve around her. I gave this kid money for snacks and stuff and she had a bawling fit because I have my kid more money. She didn’t even say thank you. I was bored 45 minutes into this outing, mind you. By hour two and with that whiny demanding brat my responsibility, I told Spook it was time to leave. She had a tantrum and I kept my cool in front of everyone, even though what she needed was a swat on the butt, too old to act like a toddler. Then I felt guilty when I realized we hadn’t been there 2 hours but technically, had she not volunteered me to supervise El Bratto, I wouldn’t have gotten so stressed out and wanted to get the hell away from the kid.

My dad darkened my step 3 days in a row, imposing his will on me, stalking me by phone as well. I’d just spent 6 days and 12 trips to town to the petri dish, I needed to clear my mind and NOT have people contact. He gave zero fucks. I have big issues with people who ‘tell’ you they are coming by, or they just show up and demand you drop everything to accommodate their schedule. It’s just disrespectful. Nothing is gonna change the man and sometimes, in my angriest moments, I think, wow, my life is gonna be less stressful once he is gone. Then I remember he’s in okay health and his mother is still alive at 92 so chances are good I have 20 more years of his asshole-ness…Then I feel shitty for thinking such awful things, my poor kid doesn’t even have a dad, at least mine is still in my life.

I didn’t go anywhere out of town for 5 days straight, that’s how tapped out last week made me. Last year due to money issues, I was basically trapped here 7 days a week and I felt hobbled. Now I can go days without leaving town and it doesn’t much bother me. Maybe because the summer cost me so much in mental and physical energy. My desire to make sure my kid had a good summer really was priority, but at what cost to me mentally? I’ll be recovering for weeks to come, I am sure, but…it’s worth it for her to be content and happy. I think. She’s moody as I am, so the littlest things set her off. Today it’s this fish fry her grandpa is taking her to tomorrow night. She is petrified they will force her to eat baked beans and cole slaw so she’s been in a tailspin ever since. Her own fault, she asked if they’d take her and she knows their rules about eating food even if you don’t like it…The tiniest things send her into huge meltdowns thus we have dubbed her the drama llama. She hates that name. I think it’s adorable and fitting. Besides, my dad’s nickname for me at her age was ‘lazy butt’ or ‘barge feet’. I’d rather be a llama.

I am feeling ‘betterish’ today now that I doubled my Xanax dose and took Buspar with it. I managed to move from my deer in the headlights state and do a load of laundry and hang it to dry. I let my kid go get her friend and they are playing out in the yard and for once, I am not all paranoiad and fearful. My brother darkened my doorstep bringing back my trash cans and telling me about their plans for the fish fry and I didn’t spaz out. It’s all about the medication. It truly helps clear my head and calm my thoughts and it leads me back to semi rational thought. I don’t like ‘disobeying’ the script but they’re not helping me so I have to help myself. I’m still under the old dose, so it’s not like I am abusing it. Just enough to get myself off the crazy train.

I need to do dishes and vacuum. I don’t think it’s gonna happen. JUst a load of laundry, picking up some trash in the yard, and running to the gas station wore me out. It’s the curse, though. Every month it taps me out and renders me half conscious from sleepiness and in pain from cramps and my whole body feels bruised and leaden…I may just have to settle for my small goals that I managed and try again tomorrow. I think once I survive this damn debacle of a party Sunday my sister and mom have planned for Spook, I will feel a lot better. I don’t understand why they have to put off paying their damn bills and spend hundreds of dollars for a party the kid will forget by next week. They do it more for them than for her, I swear. Hopefully this will be the last year they feel the need to go overboard since she’ll be 11 and probably in her ‘i hate adults’ phase.

See, I knew the depression was SERIOUS when I didn’t even enjoy going to Big Lots or looking at Halloween displays. That is usually my happy time. This time it was just a depressing chore. So if I can’t enjoy what usually makes my spirits soar gleefully…is it any wonder why I am dreading an over the top birtday party populated not by actual family or our friends, but my sister’s people and their kids? Every damn year. And because I am so disorganized and anhedonic I just let them do it because no doubt I’d fuck it up. Organization is not my thing, especially as of late. Just choosing clothes or what to eat leaves me stressed out and baffled and unable to make a choice. So I guess I bring these ridiculous parties on myself but when I did protest, my mom got nasty and told me to ‘do it your fucking self then’.

My parents really aren’t warm and fuzzy types, at all. And they weren;t before they hit their seventies so they can’t blame age. That and I don’t think either of them like me. They love me, but they don’t much like me. And that’s okay. The feeling is reciprocal. With love and respect, of course.

Random Gobbledygook

Posted in Ramble with tags , , , , , on February 13, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Long winded bouncing topic mess

So my mood is slightly better since we are having our first sunny day in well, days. Thing is, right out of the gate, I felt my anxiety flooding my entire body. That is pretty common, I just find sunlight a big anxiety stressor (though it is a little lesser during warm months). It took me years of stubborn refusal to accept what the professions were telling me all along, mainly cos their methods were tried and failed in an epic manner, plus the ‘one size fits all’ thing is a losing cause with my from the word go. I am no longer oblivious to how crucial sunlight can be to lightening a darkned depressive mood. It allegedly cuts down anxiety levels but that has not been my experience.

After last night’s ‘slaughter your daughter’s psyche” attack from my father I find myself very uneasy, very angry, very hurt, and very frustrated. Man, I’d give every spare organ I possess if I could just get me and Spook not just out of Armpit, but out of this bloody state. My family is the kind where the less you see them, the more fond you grow of them. I have a distinct feeling that if we lived in a different state when we did occasionally come home for the holidays, we’d enjoy that time more and probably not spend the whole time bickering, yelling, and insulting each other. And let’s not forget how much a move to a warmer less severe climate could alleviate my seasonal affective depression. It seems win win win win all around.

But, as he pointed out, I can’t even afford to move out of this place in Armpit, let alone come up with enough money to move to town and especially not to move out of state. Maybe I will make a fundraiser asking for help escaping all this oppression. I think just hearing how my dad talks to me in such cutting terms might inspire people to donate cos escape is my only way out. Oh and he’s a narrow minded bigoted racist homophobic Trump loving asshole. No one, especially someone with a young child, can be expected to cope with this toxicity. I know, no one can make you feel inferior unless you give them permission. Sadly, this does not work with family. My dad paid for me to be born therefore as far as he is concerned, he has the right and obligation to tear me down daily and never ever say a nice thing about me.

Wouldn’t it be amazeballs if I could raise the money to go elsewhere and show my kid that our family ain’t normal, living in Podunk without public transport isn’t the only way, and hey, fun ball mommy might reappear. Put on my PJs, I am dreaming? I really don’t think so. Every time I left this hell hole, I never wanted to come back but it was always the shortage of money that sent me back to this hell pit. I’d do cartwheels down a busy main street if Spook and I could escape it all and start fresh and have decent happy lives not subject to the criticisms of negative nellys.

I want this so badly, for Spook, and myself.
I am irked. My usual routine has been messed up because for whatever reason, the digital antenna isn’t pulling in my usual ME channel so no Perry Mason, no Matlock, no Diagnosis, Murder, no Heat Of The Night. Maybe missing this routine contributed to the rise in my anxiety level, I don’t do well with change. I have GOT to find a way to get a better antenna, the ones we have only pull in stations 30 miles max from Armpit. Considering how isolated this town is and most stations are over 60 miles away, we definitely need an upgrade there. Though I do feel a bit like a jerk griping about it cos 2 of our antennas were given to me free and the third was $2 at a yard sale so it’s not like I got ripped off. We get 3 of major networks and a few other stations, no monthly cable bill needed. Bad part is on windy, rainy, stormy, snowy days, etc, it can wipe out channels we usually can pull in so it’s iffy at best. Still, no cable bill is awesome. I do however wish we could pull in CBS and the CW but they broadcast from too far away.
Nothing is perfect.
I am so sick of true crime shows where they point out ‘ she dressed outlandishly’ therefore, of course she was gonna become a killer. HUH? Dressing the way that makes you happy (even if just a teenager phase) has no bearing on violence or the capability of murder. BEING DIFFERENT IS NOT A CRIME NOR IS IT A PSYCHOLOGICAL DEFECT.
Worry more about people like Ted Bundy who came across completely normal, charming, handsome, and likeable. Evil wears many outfits, people. Usually they look just like the guy or girl next door. Unless of course you are my neighbor, I wear 99% black simply cos it feels slimming, doesn’t get stained, and is just what I’ve liked since I was a kid. Maybe I look different but it has no bearing on me being a psychopathic killer.
Some of us just find it more important to be true to ourselves than to try and fit into some mouldy festering cookie cutter image.
Nancy Grace is an idiot.
“So you had people over, food was served, alcohol was served, but it wasn’t a party?”
I’m a bit of a wallflower so I’m not up on party etiquette but to me, that sounds like a normal get together with a few friends thus not really a party, just hanging out.
I despise Nancy Grace.
I couldn’t pass a lie detector test if I studied…
I think the law is lacking as far as perceiving guilt when using interviews and polygraphs. There is a reason they aren’t admissable in court. With my panic attacks and general anxiety, I don’t think I could pass a polygraph even if I told the truth on every question. Hell at this point, I’d probably fail based on ‘what is your name’. Because while my parents gave me a legal name, I’ve only ever been called “Niki” so for me, that is who I am, my legal name is for legalities. Polygraphs don’t make allowances for two answers being accurate, someone’s anxiety state, or that simply feeling bad about something even if you didn’t do it, it is still called deceptive. I really don’t have much use for the law if they aren’t going to use it properly and provide ‘beyond a reasonable doubt’ evidence. Honestly, to this day, I am convinced Scott Peterson killed his wife and unborn child, but they only had a bunch of circumstantial evidence and his shitty cheating personality so he was convicted more for being a sleaze than cos guilt was proven beyond reasonable doubt. I take offense at this even if I believe they belong in jail and are guilty as sin. It simply wasn’t proven in court beyond that reasonable doubt requirement.
If being a sleaze makes you a murderer, my dad cavorting with a 17 year old girl while he was in his 50’s should make him guilty for the Lindburg baby kidnapping, being on the grassy knoll, and multiple counts of cradle robbery.
Watching way too many crime shows…
I am rarely doing anything even slightly law breaking. Think my biggest sin is the occasional trip in Armpit to the gas station without wearing a seatbelt.
Yet I find myself trying to leave digital breadcrumbs should I ever need an alibi. Normal people do not think like this. I didn’t used to but now…I’ve made too many Z whacker comments in public forum so I guess I’m just covering my own ass should some nutball decide to actually do that sort of thing.
I am NOT crazy. I am sanity challenged.
I need to dye…
my hair. My kid asked me if red, black, and gray was my original hair color.
NO. I have the cheap boxes of dye (no, $1 hair dye doesn’t make my hair crisp or fall out) but with winter depression comes ‘gives zero fucks’ about my appearance.
Now that my kid asked about my gray roots, though, it may well be time. And for the record, I was born with black/brown hair so I was getting gray roots before my 25th birthday. It was never noticeable til I fell down the rabbit hole of depression and failed to keep up with the dye jobs.
Bizarre confession…

I prefer episodes of Murder, Shae Wrote, that are set in Cabot Cove. (Yeah, effed up considering my attitude toward small towns, but the scenery there is so much prettier than here.) I don’t remember it irking me so much til I did a little research and read (on the internet, therefore it MUST be true…not) that Angela Lansbury started pushing to do more episodes outside Cabot Coven, in big cities across the world, so she could look more fancy and sophisticated.
True or not, it just sounds pretentious and I don’t play that way.
whaaaat??? Parents don’t do this sort of thing except on TV.
Yeah, I watched a show where a man was raising 2 daughters alone in a small town. One daughter was a kook, the other was very intelligent, but neither seemed to be able to make ends meet in tinytown, usa. And the dad actually said, “It is my fault, I should have moved you both out of here a long time ago so you’d have had more options.” TV parents. I want some of those.
Family dysfunction without the fun…
This crime doc has a woman and her two kids and she meets this guy willing to love them all but…he has to first pass muster with HER SISTER,in family portrait form. HUH? I know it’s good if both family factions get along but I’ve not once required my parents to approve, let alone my siblings. That is effed up.
I will, of course, ask for my spawn’s input should I ever meet a man, cos above all else, they have to treat not just me well, but my kid and cats. I know my kid, though, and she doesn’t like to share attention so if a man meets her approval, that’s the big thing.It probably means he kisses up to her and buys her a lot of stuff. Spawn be a bit…shallow.

God takes care of his own…

I’m not religious but even if I were I would find that statement offensive and an utter lie. If God truly provides, there would be ZERO instances of innocent babies tossed into trash cans and such. I have faith, I have spirituality, but they both call for occasional logic and mainstream organized religion seems devoid of that.
There is a huge difference between what we want, wish for, and expect to get. What actually is…Very different and very much indicative that God has little to do with human nature.
My sister has another cat with lukemia. This is 4 in under a year. Please, if you find one animal has it, get the others tested and vaccinated if you can. I hate seeing my sister go through this when they just buried a pet two weeks ago. I wish I had been more aware of how serious and easily communicated feline lukemia is. Not that I can do much about it, but thankfully our cats all seem healthy right now. We rent so who knows what pets previous tenants with pets had going on, it does worry me.
I told my kid we were out of ice cream…and she started stomping and screaming and calling me names.
Heaven forbid she ever gets hold of weapons and comes at me cos the Kool-Aid has less than the ‘right’ amount of sweetner. made
Oh,byw, I offered her some of my Lindor truffles and that made her scream louder and slam her bedroom door on me.
I don’t seem to be the unreasonable one here.
Watching Stephen King’s Storm Of The Century…and wondering if Big Tall Island is some bizarre play on words as big and tall are synonymous? Awful as the situation of the story is…it still seems pretty exciting compared to things in here in Armpit.
We filled out her Valentine’s for tomorrow. Well, she filled them out as I have had her do since Kindergarten but as usual I am in charge of putting the heart shaped sticker on that closes them. She says none of Armpit/Armhair district is nice enough to deserve one but I told her, hey, we may be broke, we may not be classy, but we are NOT thoughtless and rude.
I had to ask for it but she gave me an adorbs kitty Vtine that says, “You had me at meow.” That is far sweeter than any cheesy romantic line from Jerry McGuire.
It occurs to me that while I’ve hit the East coast twice as ‘passing through’, I’ve never had the pleasure of a true sight seeing trip. I am definitely putting ‘see a working lighthouse’ on my bucket list. They just have such a mystique yet old time charm about them, I think it would be better than visiting Hawaaii or whatever.
Nickel dumb…
I was trying to think of a better name for a killer clown than Pennywise. I’m used to failure but it’s still…a wee bit funny. NO NICKELBACK JOKES. I like that band, dammit. Least their lyrics make sense whereas the Grammy winning shit this year made me go what the fuck?
No doubt there might be but one reader who has time, attention span, and the give a damn to read this…so…hasta la vista, Reader. I’ll be back. Ya know later, after a dozen other things have annoyed me and inspired me to complain.
This is the magic that is me.
(total sarcasm, not conceit.)