Archive for the Uncategorized Category

Manic Monday, Chapter Two

Posted in bipolar disorder, depression, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on May 13, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

 

Bedtime at 11 ish. Up at 1 a.m. Awake til 4:45 a.m. Up with alarm before 7 a.m. This has become my new despised normal but this week…it’s not grueling and I am not exhausted because…hypomania. My dad called first thing, then came over to gripe about my yard needing this and that done to it, and I didn’t even get panicked when he decided to come inside and use my bathroom then insult my housekeeping.

I think this is a point most people don’t touch on much. Bipolar people have pretty strong psyches. It’s not like we’re shrinking violets who submit because someone says we have to and we don’t want to displease them. Half the time we are in such a fragile state, we will do whatever it takes to avoid the paranoia and panic attacks that make us feel more vulnerable and weak. But when we are ‘up’, everything changes, right down to, yes, perception of things that usually make us fall apart so fast emotional shrapnel flies. Today I feel strong and solid mentally and so I cope better. I know this is part of the manic depression cycle so it will come and go but I do love when it visits.

It also kept me from throttling him when he started in on my about getting a job at McDonald’s. No, not a job, butĀ  THE SAME SHIFT AND SAME DAYS MY BROTHER WORKS SO THEY DON’T HAVE TO DRIVE HIM AND HE CAN RIDE WITH ME. I told him I want overnights. They only run drive thru after 11 and I think two nights from 8 to 10 pm ish I could deal and Spook would only need a sitter for when she was sleeping. I don’t worry about when I will sleep. I haven’t been working the last 2 and a half years and I still don’t get decent sleep so catnaps work for me. What I do NOT want is working 5,6 days a week for 3 hours a day. With my anxiety, it is best if I go in and get the work week over with so I can breathe and regain equilibrium. I am just so fucking sick of him telling me what to do when I am damn near 50 years old. But I am also feeling pretty shitty cos half the people I know who got jobs ended up getting fired or quitting, and already even with a bad current reference, they are getting hired for new jobs within a couple of weeks and I am getting nothing.

Thing is, even if they hired me tomorrow, it won’t help me right now. The cats are running low on supplies, the water bill is due, the car needs gas…Not like my dad will help me on any of that even if I paint their shed or whatever to earn it. That’s why I post our paypal link, in hopes some kind soul will help out with five or ten buckets to help keep us afloat. I know it annoys people and it makes me look like a money grubber scam artist but I am pretty much an open book. I mean, 9 years of blog archives so my story is consistent. Facts always are. I post my disconnect notices, my account numbers (I was hoping since I did that someone would have helped with Spook;s school pics since they could have just ordered them and not need to give a penny in cash). I am transparent as I can be. (And I also accept directly sent stuff, so I’d suck as a scammer unless cat litter was currency.)

paypal.me/MorgueAndSpook

I did this video last night because muggles have asked me what mania is like. Now this was hypomania, not full blown, but same idea. Ten feet tall and bulletproof except with hypomania you’re too scattered to remember where you put your Kevlar so eventually you’ll take a hit and it will likely be mortal to your hypomanic good mood.

And no, I am not giving up, I am gonna keep supporting my kid’s dreams of a vacation and all I beg of you is, just share it on social media. Help this kid get something she wants out of a life.

Mania is wearing off, I am gonna be one tired little ghoul here soon. But the ride was good while it lasted. Think it means my Abilify needs increased, though, dual mood stabilizers usually murder the hypomania if they’re working right.

Have a great Monday. Play me off… (And for the love of pegacorn, could someone do a METAL version of this song THAT DOES NOT SUCK?)

Advertisements

Hypomanic Sunday

Posted in bipolar disorder, depression, Uncategorized with tags , , , , on May 13, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Well, after working my ass off with household chores, my Mother’s Day closes with my kid having thrown something at me and physically attacked me while screaming like banshee. All because her cat got into a fight with my cat. The cats are fine, there was zero excuse for that kid to hit me and throw stuff at me and have such a screaming mimi. So now she has all week without her devices to think about how to get her temper under control. Guess that comic I posted this morning was prophetic. It truly hurts to be trying this damn hard, to get so little credit for trying to do better and be better, and to have a kid who has no gratitude and attacks me physically as well as verbally…If I didn’t have the strong psyche I do, I’d never have survived Hurricane Spook.

It was otherwise a good day, though, so I am not gonna let her bad behavior rob me of that. Would I have preferred if someone had taken me out to a meal and done the chores for me as a gift for today? Sure. But that’s not my reality.

My reality is…I went hypomanic today and got stuff done without it feeling like a soul depleting body draining chore. I did 4 loads of laundry, folded it all, did dishes, swept, mopped, cleaned cat boxes, made lemonade, cooked a decent meal. Not like my brain could even stay focused on three minute video clips. When hypomania sets in, the ping pong balls in my brain that are thoughts become warp speed and doing bits here and there ends up getting stuff done. I tend to go with it cos I never know when the hypomania train will come around next. I love days where I can do the work and not feel sick or leaden or worn out or like trudging uphill in molasses. This is what I wish I could feel like all the time. This is the ‘good mania’ as if any mania is good. But hypomania means you’re thoughts are spinning but low functioning or they are spinning and you’re totally high functioning. It’s not like full blown media where you blow rent money on new shoes and rack up thousands in credit card debt on stuff you don’t need, then you go bang some dude you just met, then you drink a fifth of vodka on your own, then find another guy…

Oh, man, how thankful am I for Lamictal and all mood stabilizers? How grateful am I that even though it took 15 years and six doctors, I was finally diagnosed and medicated properly. Bad manic can stay away. Good manic should visit more often. Hell, I was even writing today, poetry, random, mental health blog…I feel tired and sore now so I definitely am looking forward to bedtime but for now…I feel accomplished.

And also a lot dismayed that my kid still hits me. Not like she used to but she’s still violent in ways that disturb me. Few others see it but those of us who have know, something is not right in her head. This has been going on since she was 2 and punched me in the face and broke my glasses. I keep hoping it’s some sort acting out cos she has no dad in the picture, or it’s hormonal, anything but the strong possibility that she has bipolar. I remember the anger, the tantrums, the punching, slapping, and throwing things at people when I was overloaded…then I’d calm down and it would be like, wtf happened, did I do that? WHY did I do that?

I will leave you with some links in case you use the reader and missed something you might want to see. Happy Sunday and Mom Day šŸ™‚

https://wordpress.com/post/crypticverse.wordpress.com/507https://wordpress.com/post/crypticverse.wordpress.com/510https://wordpress.com/view/crazybeautifulrandom.wordpress.comhttps://wordpress.com/view/morgueticiasmentalhealthmausoleum.wordpress.com

Her page. And yes, this is all her, she told me I suck at fundraising cos no one likes me so you’ll be dealing with her, not me.

https://www.gofundme.com/six-flags-for-summer-vacation

And a plea from me. Just passing it along on social media can make a HUGE impact.

Snuggies, Lemons, And Springter

Posted in depression, seasonal depression, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on May 12, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

If you are new to my blog you are likely unaware of how I frequently create hybrid words. Well, today, I have a new one. Springter. Because it’s 45 in May and we are freezing, warming our socks in the dryer, using a space heater, and searching for the winter clothes and snuggies we just packed away BECAUSE WE THOUGHT IT WAS SPRING. The calendar lies. Mother Nature is a lying deceitful bitch. For people like me whose depressive cycles coincide frequently with bad weather, this is likeĀ  aĀ  death knoll. I can’t think straight because I am so bloody cold. And NO, turning on the furnace in May is NOT gonna happen. Cranking it on every shiver is what put me on the bad side of a $900 three month bill, I need the break for summer to catch up by not using the furnace and gas. Least we do have this little space heater but unless you’re on top of it, it doesn’t do much to warm your hands. I think I still have hands, they’re numb from being so cold. SPRINGTER.

Yesterday was a low day, and sure, the cold and rain is part of it, but it was also a normal mood low that comes with the ebb and flow of bipolar depression. I got focused on is it bedtime yet, and that’s all I could think about. I was cold, I was depressed, I felt anxious, and darkness and bedtime are my only real safe spaces in Armpit. If it’s still light out, then there’s every likelihood my dad and his crew are gonna be calling and showing up unannounced and getting me all stressed out with no one to choke (legally.) It truly was just a fight to survive yesterday because of my mental space. The mental health Gods gave me lemons and I was too crippled by my illnesses to make lemonade.

I still have those lemons today, in the form of being cold, uncomfortable, pissy, and all around irate. The added bonus today, though, is that my brain is in hyperdrive, like ADHD hell with the bouncing thoughts and inability to accomplish a single thing because I CANNOT FOCUS. I take the lemons to make lemonade, forget about it, then I think, ooh, I can cook a good Mother’s Day meal, maybe I use some lemon zest, or hey, lemon water could help me lose weight and…STOP. But scumbag brain doesn’t stop, just keeps going.

My daughter brought me some cool gifties home from church that she made me. Then she ran off to her grandfather’s house. I feel loved. We were supposed to have a meal in town at my mom’s but they are all sick there so much as I didn’t want to drive or socialize, I really did want meatloaf and mashed potatoes. My cupboard is down to hot dogs, corn dogs, chicken nuggets and ramen. A good filling meal sounded really nice…But I understand, no one who feels ill enjoys a good meal so we will just postpone it.

It’s Mother’s Day otherwise known as ‘my uterus performed its function, I am sooo special’ day. If you missed the comic I posted,Ā  Click if you want a funny. I have zero motivation so I am just gonna try to keep my brain from bursting out of my skull with its ping pong ball thoughts bouncing about.

Maybe later I will think to take the lemons life gave me and make some lemonade and be all happy to be alive and yada yada. It could happen. Satan could also order air conditioning for Hell.

Spooky Sockhands- it is that cold inside.

boopy sockhands.jpg

A funny comic for Mother’s Day

Posted in humor, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on May 12, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Happy Mother’s Day to all moms, moms of children, moms of pets, stepmoms, adoptive moms, foster moms…this is our day, ladies, let’s have a laugh. (And while I used stock images, I did the text myself because I know how to make my kid suffer without her devices, hee hee hee.)

 

 

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 alongĀ  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 thenĀ  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 itĀ  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…

 

 

Survival Versus Self Care

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on May 10, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I have been reading a great deal about the practice of ‘self care’ which involves pretty much all humans but takes on greater meaner for those with mental health issues.

Right now, I am on the brink of breakdown and madness, due to the fact the ex is $5000 behind in support and the court has zero intentions of making him step up or even hold him accountable with penalties. I am trying to get a job but 63 other people are vying for one position on one application, so it’s maddening and very discouraging.

I am willing to work hard and earn money. I don’t like asking for stuff, it plays hell on my already tormented self esteem. Having said that, I am so very thankful for the help that I have received but I think most can grasp that self esteem comes from being able to make you own way. I wouldn’t turn down help or a winning lottery ticket or even a live in housekeeper position (if Spook can come along) because I need money NOW to keep my water turned on. But until my ship comes in, so to speak, I am trying everything I know how. I even took my brother to work the other day for five bucks cos Spook and I needed food. I am trying.

This is where survival versus self care comes into play.

I cannot tell anyone I am totally stable and kicking ass and taking names. I bust my butt trying to keep up the housework and even when I think I’ve done well, it is brought to my attention that I ‘half assed it’. Some of that isn’t blatant disregard for detail or doing a good job. I just have zero attention span, I start and stop and start and stop. I go to do one thing, get sidetracked with another. Then some days my brain is so overflowing with thoughts that I can’t even become lucid enough to choose ONE small task to complete. I miss things others would not. I tire out mentally and physically so maybe I do half ass a few things from time to time. I am making an effort. It is, however, taking so much out of me, and becoming such a trigger for the crippling anxiety and panic attacks that I am left to wonder…

When can I take a step away from fighting to survive to tend to my psychic wounds that need some self care?

The answer is, I can’t, unless I want to face the world’s wrath and being called lazy, shiftless, a user, a flake, a dingbat….

Which means I have to weigh my mental health needs against my financial survival needs and it seems like a no win situation. Forget winning, it seems like a no balance situation. And I have no support system, just a peanut gallery of critics, so for every step forward I manage, I am taking two steps backward every time those people tear into me for not putting forth enough effort, for not trying hard enough, for not being aggressive enough in job search. I know they are very wrong about me but it still bugs me.

The bottom line is, I am legitimately disabled. I am not cured. I can make every good faith effort and try my hardest but I can give no promises on how long I can push myself harder while growing mentally weaker. I need that crazy balance thing. I wish the mentally ill had the same protections as other disabled people. In theory, we are supposed to have them, but in reality…we simply do not. It is left up to us to do battle, to bust our butts and break our psyches, and because we are pushing ourselves so hard when we don’t have that much energy to spare…we end up in a loop of losing jobs, gaining bad references, being unable to get hired, unable to make a living.

If you have a chronic physical illness and you can explain your periods of not working or leaving many jobs because you had a physical breakdown that required treatment and time off, you’re golden.

However, if you lost jobs and missed work because your chronic mental illness keeps surfacing…no empathy will be forthcoming. You’re just blacklisted and might as well be labeled a biohazard.

So I did get back to R;s text but have not heard anything from him. I will keep myself open to the possibility of helping him out for a few bucks but I think I also need to practice some self care today. That means to get off the guilt train, stop obsessing over all my screw ups, and just take some deep breaths.

Self care is a legit thing, and it is legit important. I didn’t need a therapist to tell me that, though I could sure use one to advise me on how to not let all the naysayers get inside my head and drag me down. They are the ones who need a biohazard label, picking on the mentally disabled. Their mothers did not teach them very well at all about being aĀ  decent compassionate person.

 

 

I’d Like To Strangle My Panic Disorder To Death

Posted in anxiety disorders, Friday Thoughts, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on May 10, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Got a cryptic text at 10:38 last night from R. “Need Assistance. Are you game?” I was asleep so I didn’t see it til almost midnight and by then, well, I would not be so rude as to contact anyone by text or phone after 9 p.m. unless it was a crisis. Plus he has to be at his first job at 7:30 a.m. so he has to work sleep in somewhere and I won’t be the one to fuck that up by texting. Because I know the man is so attached to his phone, his wife complained to me he once answered it in the middle of having sex with her. Ugh, gross phones, ewww.

Now it’s 8:15 a.m. and I am trying to work up the courage to text back. Because hells yeah, I don’t have a dollar to my name, so I am willing to do some work for some cash. Here is the thing about panic disorder: it does not care about your needs or their urgency. It knows not logic or intelligence. It is simply part of my brain rioting in fight or flight chemicals with no real explanation. So working my way beyond it and replying to a simple text becomes this huge process and every part of me feels wary, leery, paranoid, scared.

Like I said, I KNOW this man. He can be a wondermous person. He is also a diagnosed narcissist so anything less than an equal relationship places him in control. Especially the money factor. He truly uses it to control others and I don’t want to go back to that. I finally got some self respect and confidence back after I cut that cancerous lump out of my life. (Yeah, I know, calling a friend a cancerous lump is an asshole thing to do.) But he ran me ragged and nothing I did was ever enough. Any issue I had was my own problem, I could not talk to him, he would not listen, and worse, he was dismissive and scoffed that any feelings I had contrary to his own agenda were silly.

But hey, maybe he really does need some help and isn’t just throwing the broke unemployable chick a milkbone for ten bucks to have me back under his thumb. Idk. I think not knowing worsens the depression. I can’t count the number of panic attacks his cryptic texts have given me over the years. I told him over and over to be specific or I’ll spend hours spinning out in panic and anxiety. Even 18 months distance between us and he didn’t learn a damn thing. Hell, the texting at 10:30 at night thing was one of the main reasons I felt I had to be rid of the toxins. I never had a real employer call me that late, so why should I have to endure it from a friend I help out so I can get a different car or earn ten bucks? I need boundaries and I need them to be respected. But having a narcissistic father who has stomped said boundaries my whole life, I know it simply is not in their character to ever ‘learn’.

I will return the text, after I spin out some more.

I did more job apps last night. Applebee’s flat out rejected an on line app because I don’t have a current number for an employer from 20 years ago. Wtf? I had to do the personality test for Sonic and pretty sure I failed it by being too honest. But they do that trickery thing by asking the same questions in different ways in an effort to catch you lying and that is such dirty pool. They didn’t even use that to elect a fucking president.

This morning the neighbor girl told me she has a second interview with one of those upscale 2 for $20 meal places. The very one that wouldn’t even take my on line app. She’s a lovely girl but she has never had a job outside corn husking or whatever they do during summers here and she is on the spectrum and can’t make eye contact so…her being your waitress seems a little odd to me. But maybe it is sour grapes born of frustration. I truly wish her the best, though. Maybe not getting certain jobs is the universe’s way of pointing out that I can’t be anything but who I am so any place that requires me to change who I am is not gonna work out well. No, I don’t expect anyone to appreciate my gallows morgue humor but I shouldn’t have to change that aspect even while off a clock.

Plus side, I woke several times during the night but did manage to go back to sleep (with more melatonin, of course,so now the increased dose means I am almost out of pills). It got down to 47 overnight so we woke to an ice box. My hands are still like ice cubes. This is how I know the Abilify is helping, it sure as hell isn’t because winter is over here.

Ok. Time to talk myself off the panic ledge and behave like a mature 46 year old woman. I still…got a bad feeling about going back down that rabbit hole. But hey with as much trouble as I am having getting a part time minimum wage job, maybe being on current record as helping a local business owner, that could be a stepping stone and recent reference to work in my favor over time.

It should not be this fucking difficult to find work to support your kid when you’re willing to do the work but no one is willing to hire you. I see how people become malcontent and vengeful. I am gonna try not to become one of those types. But I’m always gonna be a Ghoul Scout whose humor makes some uneasy. I was reading Fangoria at age 6, IĀ  have Jason, Michael, Freddy, and the chainsaw dude on my car window, and I will never end my love affair with Halloween. Those are the good things about me.

I’d love to strangle my panic disorder to death, though, cos it isn’t a positive tic or trait.