Archive for the S.A.D Category

My Give A Damn Is Busted…Again

Posted in anxiety, depression, S.A.D with tags , , , , , , , , , on December 3, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

You know that little fire in your belly that gets you up in the morning and guides you to do the basics and face the day no matter how trashy you feel mentally?

Yeah, my fire was doused with a gazillion gallons of water and is a mooshy pile of ashy liquid.

I got up with my kid. I went back to bed. This is becoming a pattern. Now when I have a bad bad night like Sunday where I woke at 3 a.m. and can’t get back to sleep…I didn’t feel so bad about napping because I was down 90 minutes then I went right into auto pilot and headed to town to get my kid’s ADHD pills.

Days like today where prying myself out of bed is exhausting and a losing battle…I just feel like a waste of oxygen and space. And no matter how hard I try to convince myself that obviously, my mind and body needed the extra rest…I still feel like a loser. And the kicker is, if ANYONE ELSE explained to me about how they never sleep through more than 2 hours without waking and it goes on 365 days a year…I’d offer them empathy and compassion and reassurance that running on a sleep deficit is unhealthy and no wonder you seek extra rest whenever you can get it.

For myself, all I have our harsh judgments, name calling, and self loathing. My family really trained me well with their ‘no coddling, only angry name calling’ coping mechanisms. I can’t even cut myself a break when I know I am not merely sleeping to escape reality, I am doing it because I am up so many times a night, I never feel rested. My body is playing catch up. Though you can never really get back lost sleep, you’re just running an overdraft balance for life.

So if we get all therap-y and stuff, what would a professional tell me to do to get myself out of this self loathing loop for my ultimate sin of daytime napping? Oh, yes, they would tell me to get up, bathe, put on clean cltohes, tackle the household chores, go for a walk, and,poof, it’s all better.

Which is why of the 7 or so therapists I’ve ever had, only ONE really got me and helped me. Because his philosphy was to just accept the way you feel even if it is low and self loathing and sad and frustrated. One small goal set and carried through-even if as minor as brushing your hair- will suffice as accomplishing something while allowing yourself to just feel what you are feeling.

He of course left this hamlet of flannel and farm machinery 20 years ago and now that everything has ceased to be mental health and become ‘behavioral health’, that gentler touch needed for me to perservere with therapy will be no more. NOw it’s all tough love and spacey EMRD and being basically a bully to motivate us for our bad behavior. (And to be fair, if this eye movement or tough love therapy stuff does it for you, great.) Behavioral health is bullshit and my epic dream of revenge would be to find the idiot who coined it and zap them with a stun gun over and over and tell them ‘it’s your behavior that’s bad, not the 50,000 volts zapping you.’ Because when you take imbalanced brain chemicals and call it behavioral, you’re basically telling everyone that our minds are fine, it’s just our poor behavior to blame. AND I AM NOT FUCKING OKAY WITH THAT.

I did not mean to go off course that way. But hey, this is what I live with in my brain 24-7 so what the hell, spread the discombobulated unfocused misery.

My effort at being an evolved parent and letting my kid have a sleepover with a boy failed. He apparently said something flthy to her and she came home bawling and reported it to the school and now it’s just become this big thing…I’m not convinced being open to this idea is wrong. I had lots of male friends and I had zero feelings for them as anything else and they were always carrying on about gross sex stuff and if I pointed out hey, I am a girl, they’d be, “No, Niki, you’re just one of us guys.” Had I been a girly girl that might have hurt my feelings but since I was the metal headbanging foul mouthed rebel with lots of causes…I tried to cast my daughter in my role at her age and it is a different ball game. My kid is very different than I was at that age. But I told her months ago this boy was bad news and she just kept saying it’s not his fault, he’s autistic, he has no other friends…Yet first time he acts like a 12 year old boy with a dirty mind, she couldn’t turn on him fast enough. I encouraged her to let it simmer in her mind a couple of days before writing him off totally, she is very reactive and impulsive. I also told her she had NO obligation to be friends with ANYONE who made her feel unsafe the way his words had done. Giving a mercurial 10 year old free will is nasty business. Because if I don’t give her trust and independence, I am babying her. But if I do give it to her and it goes bad, well, it’s all my fault for letting her do it. Parenting is enough to induce a brain bleed.

To the school’s credit, they did call me and made sure I knew what was going on and that Spook had made complaints because the bus driver made her sit next to that boy and they’ve arranged it so she does not have to anymore. It’s a shame, his parents seem so nice, even if they essentially buy his love and give him zero boundaries. I’d hate to have my kid’s worst behavior held against me. I am NOT defending the boy. I am, however, old enough to look back on how many friendship bridges I burned over some plausible stuff and some pretty silly stuff…I don’t wish my fate on my child.

I was trying to be humorous and it failed, but she was all indignant and said, “MOm, you don’t understand what it’s like to be have a boy talk dirty that way to you!” And I said, “Wait a minute, R is always talking filthy to me about how he is a Trump loving Republican, it doesn’t get dirtier than that…” I didn’t have the heart to tell her the last guy who asked me out was sending me dick pics an hour later. Let’s face it. Some boys never truly become men no matter what biology says. They are sex obsessed gross lil perverts who have no clue how to treat a woman with respect. Telling her it gets better as you get older is a lie. The challenge is to try to find the one lesser pervert in the sea of perverts. Not that I am jaded or anything.

She will be home shortly. Waiting to see what mental state she will be in.

Tomorrow I have to take her to her Christmas program. Once again essentially driving blind in the dark to the middle of nowhere. And my car has a new quirk which has me terrified. The gear shift used to move stiffly and slowly. Now it moves so fast you can’t even click to put it in the proper gear.(And of course the little orange thing that should move to indicate what gear you’re in does not work.) If this car fails, I am so beyond screwed.

Sadly, my give a damn is indeed busted so it’s all a future problem. Like how to feed my kid the next 3 weeks on $30. How to make sure she has a few cheap gifts under the tree. Oh, and how to pay the heat bill because my assisance grant still hasn’t gone through. And every other year it has gone through within 10 days, but now it’s going on 3 weeks so yeah, I am panicking. What I need is a generous Giving Tuesday benefactor. Or to find a winning lottery ticket in some random place.

Meh, I am so low I don’t even have enough give a damn to fantasize.

Is it January 2nd, yet? Because in this family, we can’t even have a happy new year because a family member committed suicide January 1rst, 3 years ago. It’s all money problems and sadness and the toll it takes on me leaves me with zero joy to even fake for my kid’s sake. And every year, I think of K killing himself less than 24 hours after being released from the psych ward who deemed him fit enough to be released. He was in a bad place and they totally failed him. Which always serves as a reminder to me that if I go down the rabbit hole, with crap insurance…I’d just get bounced out the same way and…what’s to say I wouldn’t want to end it too? Nothing makes me any more special than him.

Hell of a thing to think about during this supposedly joyous season.

Reality just doesn’t give a damn. My kid was yapping the other way about feeling a day had been cursed and she was in full drama llama mode and telling me I don’t know what it’s like to feel so cursed.

My grandother died on my second birthday. No one told me til I went to put flowers on her grave and saw my birthdate as her deathdate.

I’ve felt cursed my whole life. Like a bad reminder to my mom every year that her mom was dead on the day I celebrate being alive.

Which may be why I gave up celebrating birthdays many moons ago.

But I guess it’s just behavioral health and I am to blame for not behaving properly.

Cos throwing a parade with candy would be totally more appropriate than just, ya know, feeling sad about things that are sad.

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.

It Isn’t In My Blood…Or Is It?

Posted in depression, S.A.D with tags , , , , , on November 8, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

So I was in the car making my way to the gas station and Shawn Mendes’ “It Isn’t In My Blood” came on the radio. And at first, I tolerated it because my kid loves that song and it’s kinda, not sucky. But I got to actually listening to the lyrics and it got me wondering, after what has essentially been The Week From Hell..Giving up seems like the only option left because I am getting nowhere, but on my good days…It isn’t in my blood. On my bad days, like the last few…Giving up very much seems to be in my blood, even if just a hint. The truth is, I am exhausted. Between my moods, my kid’s moods and tantrums, and the perpetual struggle with finances…It all seems so utterly pointless to keep going nowhere.

Things were okay for a couple of weeks.

Now I am back to being ready for bed at 7:30 p.m.

My kid joined band without my consent and thinks it’s dandy because someone gave her the saxophone for free. Never mind I can’t afford the parts and maintenance and repairs and band fees. And every part of me wants to encourage her and not be a gloom and doom dream squashing monster like my father was and continues to be. But if her pattern holds, she is going to get fed up within a month because she can’t even handle the noise on the bus, let alone a roomful of people playing different instruments. And she hates rules and following instructions and the minute it’s too much work or boring, she quits. And hey, if it works out, what happens when I have to quash it with the ‘not enough money’ factoid? Maybe she is right, I am ruining her life. Because a good mom would be able to hold down a damn job and make more money. She’s said as much many times.

I am so tired of putting everything I’ve got into this shit show called life and still coming up short on every front.

At this time, I know I am hormonal AF and starting a new med combo usually has some ups and downs so this may pass the moment, it is not passing and whatever zeal I was feeling for a couple of weeks…it is gone. I am back to just wanting the nothingness of sleep. Or bizarre dreams. Least those I can wake up from.

Our microwave keeled over. Third one in less than 2 years but hey, when you buy used…We got lucky and my dad a spare he bought at auction but it’s just that for every good thing that happens for us, it seems like ten bad things have to follow.

Like the water heater going out again after we just got it fixed last week. I guess I should be happy the furnace is still working since it’s getting down in the teens at night. And I did force myself to boil water to do dishes and bathe this morning (9 days without a bath, ugh, tell me that isn’t depression) but now I either gotta get R back over here and grovel and he is never available or I gotta let the landlord tromp through, forget why he is here, then parade three or four of his kids in, then them all conference on getting a professional here to fix it…Can’t anything just be a simple “Hey, this needs fixed” followed by a professional showing up and doing the work in a timely non invasive fashion?

Apparently not in my life.

At the moment, not even my freebie TV stations are coming in. Oh and the TV screen just went black. Time to unplug it, see if that does the trick as it has in the past. Oh, it did work. This is what you gotta deal with when you buy used stuff or get it given to you for free.

The higher Xanax dose has been helping hold off the panic attacks but I am still super disturbed by unfamiliar noises. Every time the furnace kicks on, the vent in my room starts rattling and I’ve cleaned it, secured it tightly, I don’t know how to make it stop. But every time it does it, I find myself rattled. After a week it should be normal background noise. Alas, it is not, my twisted brain senses a threat of some sort and the alarm bells start going off.

I have come to dread my daughter waking up or coming home from school because I never know what mood she will be in. And now I understand why everyone has always left me, because it is a roller coaster ride from hell. I never know if some kid is gonna piss her off and she is gonna come home in tantrum mode and blame me. Or if she is going to come home happy, then turn angry over the tiniest thing which will also be my fault. And I find it highly suspicious when she tells me she has had a good day then the next morning when she is yelling at me for reminding her of the time and to get a move on…Suddenly the previous day was a nightmare and so and so bullied her and she had a meltdown and “You don’t know what I go through at school!”

Seems pretty convenient to me, coming up with the drama after the fact to explain and excuse her hostile behavior. And pretty much everything she says anymore is hostile and screams PUBERTY. And there is part of me wishing they had baby mood stabilizers or some shit because between our ups and downs, I am getting ground down to dust.

I noticed a comment on a prior post that had been positive and the commenter said they hoped they didn’t come up on a newer post where everything went downhill. Sorry to disappoint that reader, but this is my life. Up, down, all around, but mostly facedown in the gutter this week. And I can’t even stay on topic and write out my frustrations. Which is ultimately the perfect medicine, to sit down and create a fictional world with characters whose emotions and actions I can totally control. Because I don’t feel in control of any corner of my reality right now.

When not even my favorite shows lift my mood but instead raise my anxiety…Things are rotting in the state of Denmark. And yes, I know it’s properly stated as rotten but…my soul feels like it is rotting here.

So I am just gonna chalk it up to hormones, new meds, broken stuff, and a child I can’t ever seem to placate and hope….not giving up turns out to be in my blood.

Dyeing To Ramble

Posted in anxiety, bipolar depression, depression, S.A.D with tags , , , , , , , on November 5, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Not much new here. The days here in Armpit, USA seem to blend together, the monotany broken only by random events and changes in routine. Someone passed a counterfeit $20 at the gas station here awhile back, then a couple weeks ago, someone bought a Lotto ticket and won a million bucks. Lucky them. Yesterday was fairly uneventful, the housework slowly being whittled down to just getting winter bedding clean and dry while the weather during the day is warm enough to line dry them. God knows I have no money to hit the laundromat. My kid had her little friend over and he started touching all my stuff and washing things, which I suppose is part of him being on the autism spectrum, but it still kind of creeped me out. I do not like people who just come in and make themselves at home. I especially hate people touching MY stuff. I mean, why does a 13 year old boy need to be in the bathroom going through my bloody make up? Or touching my rack of shoes? And he leaves trash everywhere, then apologizes, but keeps doing it. It tests my patience but then again, so does my own kid. Still, I guess my old school age related upbringing is showing because we were taught not to ‘make ourselves at home’ in others’ homes without explicit permission. The kids these days just come in like they own the place, all of Spook’s friends have done this. I know it’s a new generation and all that but simple respect and courtesy should never go out of ‘fashion’.

The one accomplishment I made yesterday that I feel good about is kind of banal and frivolous but for the first time in 4 months…I colored my hair. I had the color this whole time but I had no energy to do it even if every time I saw how white my roots had gotten I felt ashamed. So I finally got that done. From silver roots:

To deep red

I should have used a blonde dye first to lighten it out so the red shows more vibrant but at least the granny roots are gone for about 4 weeks. And because I inherited my father’s dark hair, I have been battling gray roots since I was 20 years old so that isn’t age related, it’s junk DNA.

Oh that first pic was from Halloween. Spook and I were Medusa twins. She is an adorable snake lady.

I spent about $5 last month on the supplies for our costumes. Two black headbands and three bags of rubber snakes. That made the headbands and I just hot glued snakes to shirts we already had. Spook changed her mind on what she wanted to be so many times I finally said fuck it, we’re Medusa twins.

I’ve been doing stuff here and there with the hot glue gun since I sorted things out around the house and got semi organized and ya know, found the glue gun and glue sticks. We got our kitchen table and chairs given to us second hand by the landlord’s son and over the last year, the cats shredded the padding on the chairs.

Over time at yard sales I picked up some fabric remnants and this is what I did with the chairs. I love black velvet.

It is far from Martha Stewart homemaker perfect but I like it, it looks better and more my style.

I did not sleep well, but then again, I went to bed at 8 p.m. and I guess my system just can’t take more than a couple hours of sleep at a time. I woke probably seven times. Maddening but at least I only hit snooze once. And with the time change, it was light out which made getting up a little less demoralizing. My kid came out of the gate at 6:55, talking a mile a minute. She doesn’t take a breath, she just talks, and I am so sensitive to sound, it really wears my nerves down.

So imagine how surprised I was to find someone else’s blog post about hypervigilance and how it includes acute sensitivity to even common sounds. Do check out Tessa’s blog
I don’t have fibromyalgia myself, but with bipolar, depression, and anxiety, all the symptoms listed (almost all) really explain the tense red alert state I am find myself in perpetually. A direct link to the article itself can be found here..

I am slowly starting to feel little bits of joy here and there, though I doubt I have been on the new antidepressant combo long enough to attribute it to that. Maybe I am feeling more in control of my situation with the house in order and the furnace working, Idk. But yesterday I put all the cat toys in a basket and next thing I knew, all three kittens and their mama had every toy strewn across the kitchen, playing like mad hatters and it made my laugh. Depression robs you of such simple meaningful things like smiles and a laugh here and there. It felt good to get that back, even if it was brief.

I am still feeling hopeless and pointless toward the evenings. Once upon a time, I came alive at night. It is killing me that I haven’t written in almost two years. Not long fiction, anyway. I know eventually the creative dam will break as it always does but waiting for that to happen is grueling. I feel like the well of creativity and ideas has just dried up and I’ve got nothing. It’s a painful joyless to state to find yourself in when your life’s blood has always been your creativity and ability to get lost in another world through your own writings. I need that back. Maybe now that I have a good shrink, my working Xanax dose back, and the house in order and the colder weather keeping people inside (including the obsessive compulsive lawn mowing habits I endured the last 7 months, geesh, these people need an intervention for their lawn fetishes)…Maybe creative sparks will come back. Eventually. The hardest part sometimes is just sitting down and staring at the blinking cursor, wondering where do I go from here. And occasionally just the forceful effort of making yourself write one sentence leads you into the story and sometimes…you want to smash the screen and throttle that taunting blinking cursor. Curse of being a writer. How I wish I’d been born with musical talent or the ability to draw. Writing is torturesome. Especially now that paper books are dying a slow death in the midst of ereaders and digital books and audibles. Ugh, such an affront to writers and readers who appreciate the feel of paper and vision of ink on the page.

According to my Grumpy Cat (R.I.P, girlie girl), today is ‘zero tasking day’. I promised my kid I wouldn’t make her do any chores. That does now absolve me, I have wet laundry I need to get out on the line. They are calling for snow Thursday so I need to get stuff clean and dry as quick as I can. Yesterday I did all the winter bedding, including all sheets, pillow cases, and comforters. It was anticlimactic, though, because I am using dollar laundry soap with zero lasting scent and I am out of scent beads so I didn’t even get the pleasure of fresh smelling laundry. You miss little things like that when you can’t afford them suddenly. Frivolous and silly perhaps but…I only pay a buck for the scent crystals and since the donor no longer works at Dollar Tree apparently, it is safe to go back there. Now I don’t have a dollar to spend to make our clothes smell laundered.

I also don’t have the money for an antifungal cream I need for a skin issue. Insurance won’t cover it because it is available over the counter but if you don’t have $4.99 to buy it, well, I am out of luck. So the issue will just get worse and then I will likely need an office visit and more expensive extensive treatment…Geesh, if I focus on this shit, I will go stark raving mad. My kid already has me sweating Christmas, asking for this and that and me not knowing if I will even have $20 to spend on her. I curse missing that Angel Tree deadline, but with no gas in the car, I couldn’t get there and no one was around to give me a ride so..

Okay, enough negativity. I won’t barf rainbows, but I’ve been staying on track lately with trying to see things in a less negative light and I’d like to keep to that. Until the depression dictates otherwise, and inevitably, it will. Long days in the middle of nowhere, too cold to go outside, no gas or money to get to town, and a kid constantly indoors griping about boredom the second the tablet dies…Oh, yes, there will be depression and I will get to wallow in the negativity.

For now…I will finish the final two episodes of the final season of Z Nation and get caught up on my regular shows and maybe that will keep me from obsessing too much about the financial situation. At least for this month, at least, all the bills are paid. Can’t afforda a box of Kleenex, but we will have shelter, heat, lights, car insurance,phone, net, water, and food.

I was reminded the other day how ungrateful I can be sometimes. A man approached me in the parking lot of a store and asked if I could spare a dollar so he could get something to eat. And I happened to have two ones on me so I gave them to him, knowing full well it might be a scam or whatever but…I watched him walk right over to a fast food place. Spook and I probably needed that two bucks but our bellies aren’t hungry so maybe he needed it more. Someone always has it worse. That’s what you gotta remember. And I do believe in karma. Helping others is never a bad thing. God knows Spook and I have had a lot of wonderful people help us over the years. Our gratitude is enormous.

I feel shitty that we keep ending up in the same broke situation because I am too unstable to hold a job (or even get someone to HIRE ME AT ALL) but I gotta focus on getting myself well and just keeping…keeping on. As the bracelet on my wrist is inscribed on the inside to always remind me…Keep fucking going.

Sometimes that’s all we’ve got.

Something Awesome This Way Comes

Posted in anxiety, depression, S.A.D with tags , , , , , , , , on October 31, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

To be cautiously optimistic…This week has had some awesome surprises. The weather has NOT been one of them. Highs of 37, days of gloom, lots of rain (which ruined the first night of trick or treating for the town kids pretty much) BUT….Monday night, R fixed our hot water heater, all it amounted to was a loose solder joint that I must have bumped with the broom when I was on my mad cleaning binge. Tuesday by noon the repair guy had the furnace up and running. Spook’s metadate finally got approved by insurance. AND I got an emergent appointment with the telepsych and ermagod…HE IS BLOODY FABULOUS. He’s a little older than me, but so laid back and he LISTENS and asks questions and does not just hand down edicts. I GOT MY 1MG XANAX THREE TIMES A DAY BACK! For the first time in 10 months, I am starting to feel calmer and less…whacko. He also started me simultaneously back on Wellbutrin and added Cymbalta and said he’d see me in two weeks. I walked out of that appointment feeling so validated, like a human being, after months of that psych nurse making me feel like I wasn’t even a participant in my own care…


Not as awesome is that our microwave is now on its last leg and overheats if used over ten minutes at a time. I gotta unplug it and let it cool off then plug it back in and it will work again. I told my sister no way so many things could go right without something sucky happening. And no, I don’t believe in that self fulfilling prophecy bullshit where negative thoughts causes bad things to happen. I don’t care if you are the king, queen, duke, and duchess of negativity. Thought does not impact the functionality of a microwave. Fact is, it came out of an apartment people bailed out on, owing rent, and the then it was given to us for free, so chances are its issues pre-date us owning and using it. Shit breaks. As long as I can keep coddling it and using it, I am not gonna spaz out too much.

Another sucky thing yesterday was out of the blue, my dad called and told me to follow him to his mechanic out in Bumfucktu (literally, 18 miles out of any town in the country in the middle of bloody nowhere) cos he had to drop it off for an oil change and had no one else to bring him back home. Driving with my father is about as enjoyable as a root canal minus novacaine. The whole way back he kept saying, your car is making this sound…that sounds like (x) is going out on your car…There’s that sound again when you accelerate…GEESH. It’s a $450 car I’ve been driving 18 months, it wasn’t perfect when I got it, won’t be perfect any time soon. It goes from point A to point B pretty reliably so whatever issue it is having isn’t keeping it from working…The man is stress on legs, he isn’t happy if he isn’t bringing someone down with his bad juju. But saying no was not an option as, and he reminded me, he did pay for me to get my oil changed so I was in debt…

We got half an inch of snow overnight and it is below freezing right now so the sidewalks and shit should be nice and slick for the kids running to catch the bus. Snow on Halloween, that is so fucked up. Least last year Mother Nature had the decency to wait for the first week of November before turning fall into stone cold winter.

I woke a little after 5 a.m., to my own chagrin, but I was in bed by 9 last night cos, I didn’t sleep well the night before and the new meds were making me tired. Maybe an early bedtime results in waking up too early. That or I need a higher melatonin dose to keep myself down. My sinus drainage is drowning me at the moment, going back to sleep even for an hour, was not going to happen. I am hoping even though she is only one dose in that Spook does not have a morning meltdown as she has had the last 3 mornings minus her metadate. Yesterday she went bonkers screaming and hitting me and name calling and telling me how I ruin her life. I wrote the teacher an email explaining the new med and also how upset Spook has been with me for ‘making’ her particiate in the extra help group, which she claims the other kids call idiot class. The teacher denies that they do this but I went to school, I remember how mean some were to the kids who got special help and I don’t think ten year old brains really change that much cos, ya know, they are ten and kids are jerks. And teenagers are bloody monsters so my kid is either gonna have to get some armadillo skin or she is gonna get shredded. My rule was always, never give an inch, never let them see you upset, never let them see you cry, when they were bullying me in school. I kept my head up, I battled cruelty with sarcasm, and then if I needed to fall apart, I waited til I was home safely and I plotted their demise in gruesomely creative ways in a journal. And it helped and I never hurt anyone or myself. But once they know they have the power to get you crying and upset…You just can’t let them have that power. Spook needs to learn resilience.

Which does not mean the hurtful things won’t stick and make an impact, it’s just about controlling what you can. You can’t make them not be jerks, but you can choose to save your tears and hurt feelings for later on in private so they don’t get the satisfaction of knowing they have the power to hurt you.

Though I gotta admit there are times I question the validity of my kid’s complaints. The way she has melted down on me and lashed out this week alone, blaming me for every tiny thing, screaming, calling me names, bawling, hitting, dramatizing something as tiny as me not getting the temp of her hot cocoa just right…Part of me thinks maybe she brings some of this ‘bullying’ on herself by acting out so erratically. If a kid playfully elbowing you or closing your locker on you makes you start screeching and ‘having a mental breakdown’, well…Gator skin is needed. I myself wouldn’t mind gator skin and a Teflon coating cos I know I can be too sensitive and sometimes without legit cause. Maybe over time she will learn this, too.

It does not feel like Halloween. I do not have the happy vibes but the snow on the ground and how cold it is have really knocked my internal calendar for a loop. Feels like it should be mid December, not October 31. Pisses me off to be robbed of my Halloween joy. We still did our Medusa twins costume last night and will do it again tonight. (Basically I got rubber snakes at the dollar store and glued them to black shirts and wrapped some around headbands with pipe cleaners so the wire makes them stand upright and look ready to attack.) I don’t want to get out in this nasty stuff and she did go out with her little friend last night and his dad, so maybe she will decide she wants to stay in where it is warm. Or I may text A and see if he will take her again with them, they are going to a safe trick or treat in the town where my dad works. Maybe I can offer up a trade and arrange a playdate for them this weekend so he and his woman can have a break from their kid and spend some time together.

It feels so bloody wonderful to have repaired the damage of my depressive inertia and have the house in good enough order that I am no longer blocking entry to her friends to protect my dirty secret. And I am trying to keep up with it, small consistent efforts, but honestly…housekeeping is never gonna be my strong suit. Others may get shiny happy feelings from cleaning but I do not. There is never gonna be a day when I get giddy, “Oooh, gotta get these dishes done and dust those shelves and scrub the baseboards….” NOPE. Domestic goddess is my sister. I am more, “You dropped your food on the floor? I don’t see cat hair on it, eat it anyway.” And I have an awesome immune system so my way works even if a little gross 😛

I am really nervous about this new shrink and the new med combo. I am thrilled that my Xanax is back at its working dose (and I am free to use the full dose without feeling like a misbehaving child, or not take it all if I don’t need to, I am back in contol) but my luck with medications has been iffy so…what if the old combo does not work? He said he wasn’t convinced I needed antidepressants and I know my jaw must have hit the floor cos I said, “I am depressed, of course I need an antidepressant and monotherapy does not work for me.” If he isn’t familiar with med resistance and gets bored quickly should I not make a miraculously comeback mentally…That is a lot of stress on me.

But at least he is a good guy, even if he’s just a face and voice coming out of a big tv monitor. I think he could have been the Marquis de Sade and as long as he was flexible on benzos I’d call him a step up from that inexperienced narrow minded nurse practitioner. Even he seemed baffled as to why she kept yanking my Zoloft dose when the higher doses were making me feel worse.

Half hour before I have to wake Spook. God, I pray she isn’t spewing pea soup today. Her meltdowns (tantrums, my dad calls them, but I recognize the difference between that and between mental health issue induced meltdowns) really take a lot out of me. It isn’t just her calling me names and hitting me. It’s just feeling so powerless to help her, knowing most likely the problem is a chemical imbalance in her mind. I try to always be aware if she is melting down because she was told no and didn’t get her own way- a tantrum- or if she is on overload from her own emotions and thoughts. Because while the ‘normals’ may not get that there is a distinct difference between a childish tantrum and a mental disorder induced meltdown…I’ve lived it, I’ve been the one accused of tantrums when in fact my mind was in chaos and crisis and what I needed was a chance to calm down, to regain equlibrium, to be understood and shown empathy. Berating the mentally disordered for behaviors we can’t always control entirely is cruel and not the least bit helpful.

Maybe the metadate will at least get her back on track. And the xanax-and tidier house with working heat- is bound to have a positive impact on my mental health even if the meds are a succcess or failure. Things are looking up.

The one thing I cannot change, at all, is this garbage weather that impacts my mental state so much. The idea of 5 to 6 months of this endless gloom and wet and snow, dark at sunrise, dark before 6 p.m….Seasonal depression is a monster and I am fresh out of Zwhackers.

I plan on finishing season 4 and 5 of Z Nation this weekend, INTERNET GOD WILLING, cos our Frontier service was down from 9 p.m. Monday until 5:30 p.m. Tuesday. It is so unreliable they should be giving it away free. NEVER GET FRONTIER INTERNET IF YOU HAVE ANY OTHER OPTION. Oh, and never ever move to Armpitopia where there are no other viable options.

All in all, though…my bills are all paid, we can take hot baths, we have heat, we have meds…Having gone without hot water or heat or our proper meds, this is a huge positive for us.

Tomorrow I will start melting down because I have NO idea how I am gonna buy my kid’s Christmas without child support. I literally have $45 left from my check after paying rent, heat/electric, net/phone, water, insurance, then I gotta buy meds, cat supplies, toilet paper, etc…There just isn’t a spare cent. My dad is already on me to get a job but until I can look someone in the eye and vow that I am stable and reliable long term…I don’t know what it is I could do for extra money unless I could work from home somehow. I rock at word processing, buying things at the lowest possible price, reviewing pop culture media, and writing loooong topic bouncing blog posts on mental health and pop culture…Other than that, I’m not good at much and with the upcoming hormonal dysphoria on the horizon…I can’t commit to my current ‘bathing every other day’ standard.

Guess my kid will just have to get her grandma and aunt to spend all their money on her Christmas and I will somehow find her a few dollar store things. She ends up bored with it or breaking it by day two, so I am okay with them spending lots of money on her presents. I told her until she stops destroying everything she doesn’t deserve expensive stuff. We are talking about a kid who got a tablet last December and it was broken by May-her 4th tablet, so eletronics and Spook don’t mix. She got a new dvd player in April and it’s already broken. My mom spent $250 on that monstrous dollhouse and Spook barely played it six months before getting bored and never playing with it again. I know my kid, and she’d be a little disappointed but likely just as happy if I got her $20 in slime. All it boils down to is my mom and my sister’s mentality of who spends the most loves her the most and they are the fun good people she likes best.

I’d prefer my kid love and respect me than like me. I can be her friend when she’s an adult. Right now, I am her mom and that means sometimes, I gotta be the bummer ‘I don’t have the money for this or this or this’ adult and it breaks her heart and there are tears but…We always have heat, shelter, and food so let my mom and sis be happy fun ball money spenders out to win the popularity contest. I am busy trying to be a fit parent and keep my kid’s needs met in the long term, not just for one evening joyful gift unwrapping. I can live with not being happy fun ball.

Bottom line is, my kid’s tempestuous and while me not buying her whatever pricey gadget she may want may make her cry and hate me for awhile…in the end, she comes out of it and after spending time at Grandma’s where they seldom have enough food…she is thrilled to come home to me, knowing our cabinets are full and so her belly will be, too.

Okay, I did not mean to write a novel. But here it is. Boil it down to-things are looking up. I am wary, of course, that something bad may be coming but…for now, something awesome this comes. We will gladly take it.

Rain Drain And Mercy Proofed

Posted in anxiety, depression, S.A.D, seasonal depression, Seasonal Sffective Disorder with tags , , , , , , , , , on October 26, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I have sufferedfrom (and make no mistake, it is suffering) seasonal affective disorder since I was an adolescent. It comes every year like clockwork around the end of September/start of October, though there have been a few times it did not start until Novemner if the weather was stretching summer like weather longer. Every psych professional I have ever seen about this seasonal depression boils it down to the same (bogus) assertion that it is caused only by the shortened daylight hours and can only be cured with light therapy and exercise. I bought into their garbage therapy and bought the pricey lights that mimick sunlight and it doesn’t do a damn thing. Because I believe seasonal affective disorder (S.A.D) is hardwired into your brain chemistry and body chemistry so even if you rev up your metabolism and fake yourself out with false light…what it boils down to is the inablity to ever get warm and this immovable ‘veil’ that covers your mind for six months until the season shifts from fall and winter to spring and summer. That is how it is for me, anyway.

This is not to say that I entirely discount the impact sunlight has on mental health issues and mood. Just today alone, without the previous two days of cool gloom, is enough to make me miss the retina scorching skin torching sunshine I usually admire from indoors but avoid much contact with. It was raining when I woke at 7 a.m. and is still raining at 7 p.m., not one single break in sight. No sun. No warmth. I am already craving tomorrow’s forecast, which while not warm, is alleged to be sunny. That will warm the house significantly and it will lift my mood out of the gutter.

It just angers me that they oversimplify what I endure by chalking it up to nothing more than some missing daylight hours. It’s more than that. That is significant but my seasonal can carry over into spring if the weather is still cold or excessively damp and rainy. This rain, with the cold, does me in. Warm rain does not impact me as much. But we are on day 3 without sunshine, and 12 hours of solid rain…My mood has been looking up at the belly of a snake today, it’s so low. And much of that is tied to not having working heat and being cold, but also not even being able to step off the porch because it is so rainy and cold. I feel tied down, locked up, locked inside. That bums me out. And since I am now waking at 7 a.m. and it’s dark outside, I am going to likely feel this overwhelming lowness for the next five months. So sunshine plays a part but it’s not the entire disorder and being told that it is by so called professionals has lead me to believe they don’t know a damn thing about it other than ‘it’s the winter blues’. I wish it were that simple.

I pulled off a mom win and got my kid a ride to town with my dad and his crew so she might try to use her Pumpkin festival ticket but with the rain and cold, not sure if she got to or not. She went with and got out of the house, at least, and is at a church function right now. That’s 8 kid free hours I have had. Unfortunately, with three active kittens loose who like to mess with electrical cords, I can’t say I’ve had much mental or physical rest.

I settled into season 3 of Z Nation, where an episode resonated with me. The evil guy secured metal helmet thingies to the attack zombies barring the necessary kill shot thus “mercy proofing” them and…I kind of feel that way with my mental issues. I can’t even be put out of my misery. And it isn’t some dramatic boo hoo self pity thing. It’s just this feeling of not being able to escape feeling like shit.

I feel so good about all I have accomplished but other than regaining control of my home’s chaos and making it ‘worthy’ of others’ approval…what did I accomplish? Nothing is different inside my head. I still want to be asleep ALL the time. I still feel like I am crawling out of my skin with anxiety over every sound, call, knock. I did all this stuff to regain control of my life but frankly…it’s an illusion. I never did get a follow up call from my psych center since THEIR telepsych service failed. How is that remotely fair to me? How is it meeting any bare necessity standard of care? I don’t think this place is ever gonna have their shit together again. Last time it was remotely adequate was circa 2015. But that awesome doctor left necessitating telepsych cos they can’t keep shrinks and their standards for psych nurse’s is laughable. If I don’t have any hope for my standard of care and things aren’t magically fixed by having a clean house…what hope is there, period? Mercy proofed. No mercy. Just misery.

Think I’d prefer to battle the zombies. Might be hope for a better outcome with them. Least I’d have the satisfaction of killing off some bad guys instead of always feeling like I am at their mercy. And a psych center this inept and uncaring…Yeah, I’d have much better luck and hope for a positive resolution with zombies.

That could be the weather laden depression talking but at the moment…it is how I am feeling. I worked my ass off and now my home is tidy enough to pass muster with the masses but…it changed nothing inside my sick mind. So maybe feeling out of control worsened things, but being more in control didn’t really lessen things, either. I guess my unmedicated mind got this inkling that if I just stayed off the antidepressants and detoxed from them and got shit done, well, then I’d miraculously become bipolar one and only need Lamictal and feel all better.

Delusions of grandeur. Lovely symptom of bipolar, getting it in your mind that “maybe just maybe this time” will be the magic time you won’t need more meds instead of less. I wanted to be okay, I really did. But I am not. The only improvement is that off the Zoloft, I have no thoughts of self harm. But I also have no hope or energy or even give a damn so wtf…

I curse myself every day for not having just become a drunken pothead as opposed to this neverending and seemingly pointless effort at getting proper psych treatment.

To be honest, I am irked with the current state of how being a pot user is socially acceptable and somehow cool or kosher as opposed to being a drinker or cigarette smoker. If being stoned is my only option, I’m gonna have to stay miserable and retain my brain cells. Pot makes most people, me included, lose IQ points by the dozen. While politically that may be smiled upon these days…

God, it just makes me more depressed. I don’t want to have to become an imbecile to get through life or to be considered cool.

Fuck it, I stopped making sense even to myself three paragraphs ago. Rain drain, gah.