876

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , , on February 17, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

876. That is allegedly the number of followers I have, though I suspect 90% are just too busy to unsubscribe, let alone read my rants. Still, even if the 10% who do read and occasionally click like or comment were to donate $1-$5 to our campaign…My daughter and I might well have enough to at least cover a security deposit on a new place. Believe me, this is humiliating, stressful, and not something I like doing but for all my “humanity sucks” frustration…I still believe in the ultimate good of some people. And as I’ve said before, even just a share on social media can have a great impact.

Please help if you can so Rosemary’s Baby Mama and Gothic Witch Kid don’t end up living on the street. I wish I were being overly dramatic but this is our reality. 12 days to come up with a place to live and the money to secure it. And this came as a shock to every one of us here when we were informed of the new ownership or out policy on Valentine’s Day, so this is not the case of me waiting around knowing it was coming and blowing all my money. This is the very definition of an emergency.

And now that I’ve done my beggar bit and probably offended what few people do read this…

Today has been a battle. With my own mind. I started out terrified to make phone calls, but I managed to fight through it and made two, then three, then five, then seven. And two out of them were wayyy out of my affordability range, three had nothing available, one of them said I didn’t make enough money to live there, and I am waiting for a response on another though there’s been none since 8:47 a.m. so it’s not looking hopeful. And finding a place to allow even one cat is proving a challenge as well.

I feel so defeated and yet my nerves are crawling with anxiety. I barely ate anything today. I went pee a gazillion times because when I am nervous, I drink lots of water which of course means peeing a lot. I put anti perspirant on 4 times because I kept sweating through my armpits. Not to mention the knots in my belly. None of which is remotely glamorous and yet I am supposed to believe it’s my behavior that’s a problem, not the fact that my stupid brain is running on Windows ME and dial up.

The frustration is only slightly lesser than the mounting panic. I can’t believe how hard it is for me to make phone calls, it’s asinine and yet very real. Before my kid was born, there was a time I simply could not use a phone, period, I had to have my sister call around to find me a replacement shrink because I was in such bad shape under the crappy one I had, the crazy one who thought Seroquel was better than Xanax for anxiety disorder thus I became an agoraphobic paranoiac for half a year. (Yeah, I’ve not had great luck with competent psych docs, welcome to rural midwest ninth circle of hell.)

I can’t even start packing because I have nothing to wrap glasswear in, only a few boxes, and even if I start packing, we still need space to get through this place and oh, yeah, a place to take the stuff. It’s like don’t stop, don’t go, and I am just lost, going wtf?

To top it all off, when I brought my kid home from my mom’s she started having her spaz out tantrums and swung a back of coins at my head, after screaming at me for ten solid minutes then slamming her bedroom door four times hard enough to rattle things on the living room wall. I passed it off as her not getting her own way and not getting enough sleep at mom’s…but then napped and started right back in because I wouldn’t give her my uber nice adult coloring book that was a gift from a reader…then she started saying I was lying about the teacher saying good things about her schoolwork, then she launched into how I let her down and we are going to be homeless and it’s all my fault…

And I am just like…I mean, here I am, teetering on the edge of a breakdown with all that’s been thrown at me in less than 2 months, and I am forcing myself to view this as a potentially positive thing once we manage to work it out…I am trying to reassure her, comfort her, make sure she knows this is my responsibility and I will figure it out somehow…but it doesn’t deter her, she just goes on tangent after tangent.

I’d like to say it’s exclusive to this current predicament but it’s not. My kid goes off on these neverending tangents over various inane things several times a day, several times a week, and trying to reason with her is pointless.

Now I have 3 straight days of dealing with her behavior, as well as processing my own precarious mental state, worrying if anyone will rent to us since we won’t have a cent til the day we are due to be thrown out of this place…I’m not eating, I’m terrified of the phone, I’m panicking that I can’t get all this stuff packed, that we are going to be in a shelter and honestly I’m not even sure there is a homeless shelter here….And yeah, it’s pretty sad when you have family but they’d send you to a shelter rather than let you live with them for more than a few days due to space constraints. Like I’d wanna live on a sofa with everyone traipsing through at all hours, but just knowing the option was there would be there would be nice. My mom doesn’t own the place though, her roommate does, so her rules apply. As for my dad…he’s already made it clear I’m not even welcome to their sofa even though they’d take Spook for awhile.

Um…NO. Hell no! WTF is that shit, anyway? Proof you can’t pick your family cos I would have chosen a supportive one that actually likes me. Or at least doesn’t think less of me for being disabled and not being able to work reliably.

FAIL.

On the plus side..I’ve had 3 showers in the last 8 days. That’s an accomplishment, especially considering how cold the place is even with the heat blasting and costing me all my internal organs and external limbs. I figure if I am going to be meeting with teachers or potential landlords, the least I can do is not reek and wear clean clothes. And it’s bloody exhausting. Which pains me because I used to be one of those frilly ‘don’t leave home without cute clothes and make up’ types, at least during the manic bouts.

Now if I remember deodorant and scrub my fangs, I consider it a win.

The spawn has zonked, it’s almost ten p.m., so I think it’s time I reward myself by preparing to go to bed. I need a break from my own brain. Hopefully I won’t have nightmares again about running out of trash bags and toilet paper. That melatonin gives me fucked up dreams. I guess running out of that stuff is better than the one where I was sinking to the bottom of the ocean on the Titanic…

It just goes to show that even in my sleep I am haunted by my waking problems.

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Why Am I Awake?

Posted in depression with tags , , , on February 16, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

My kid’s not even home and yet, I woke at 6:30 with no sunlight or alarm to rouse me. Immediately my brain went into hyperdrive with all the worries I have on my plate on top of my mental baggage and while I ducked under the covers and vegetated in bed a few more minutes…between Godsmack pawing at my door telling me she wants attention and noms and my own racing brain and thudding heart…Eff it, I’m awake now. DAMNIT.

Only good thing I can say is I did go to bed before 9 p.m. last night and once I went to sleep…I slept. I kept waking up, thinking I heard my kid calling mommy, but I went back to sleep. Which I suppose is a good thing but then, going to bed so early, I had hoped maybe I’d wake around 1 a.m. with a little energy and maybe do some housework or something. The entire situation-including the mental baggage-has me worn to a frazzle, I guess what my mind and body needed more than anything was rest and a break from the hell of consciousness.

And make no mistake…the last four months of my life consciousness has amounted to hell.

Since I cannot rely on my mental health professionals to keep doctors, let alone employ competent ones, the best I can do is keep writing these journal entries in hopes they speak volumes should I come up for review.

Believe me, if I were on the mend, I’d be the first to say so. Last year, I had hope for a few weeks that I’d found my magic bullet med combo. Then came the seasonal depression and the overload of demands and the extra anxiety the Trintellix caused and I went right back down the rabbit hole. I ALMOST HAD MY FEET UNDER ME!!! To have that happen repeatedly disgusts me to no end and used to, I could take solace in what every doctor and counselor had told me: you have a medical condition and it limits your functionality, at least you try your hardest, cut yourself some slack occasionally.

These days it’s all ‘behavior’ related so no slack can be cut, no empathy can be shown. It’s all “change your own behavior, problem solved.” That makes me so furious I can’t even find words. I have changed so much of my behavior I am barely myself anymore and little of those changes has done a bit of good toward my mental issues.

So here I go facing a 4 day weekend with my kid, feeling beaten down and bloodied, not a cent to my name, and I’m supposed to what…do jumping jacks until my feelings change because my problems are behavioral?

Then do tell why I pump all these poison pills into my system if the powers that be can just magically verbally bully me into ‘behaving’ myself.

I’d wave the white flag on it all if I didn’t know, from repeated personal experience, that 80% of my problems are related to my mental disorders and CAN be helped with medication. I sure don’t keep going to doctors who make me feel worse and taking pills that often make me feel much worse to benefit their bank accounts and big pharma. I know the right medication combo can mean the difference between feeling dead but alive or feeling like there’s much worth living for.

And if aiming for the latter is a behavioral problem…our mental healthcare system is guilty of behaving badly.

I Wore A Bra Today, Now Can I Go To Bed?

Posted in depression with tags , , , on February 16, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

It’s not even 7 p.m., I am kid free, and honestly…I am ready to go to bed. The depression is like being encased in concrete and even when I have a day or few hours where I can chisel out enough to be upright and function…it feels exhausting, taxing, not worth my while.

At least I EARNED this sticker today.

I know, it’s such a silly thing, basic female fashion necessity and yet…When I wear bras, I feel like I am being constricted and my skin is being bruised and honestly, it makes me freak out to feel ‘bound’. No 50 Shades Of Grey here unless my sweater puppies get to be Freed. (Argh, the movies are so awful, it makes me never want my writing to be published lest it become that…icky.) Anyway…bras suck. Dudes, be thankful you don’t have to deal with ’em.

The car continued to give me problems when I went out for more errands. I got stuck in my mom’s muddy driveway. The damn machine died ten times before I got to the school. I was relieved, at least, that the teacher is a relative noob so she didn’t realize two p/t conferences weren’t mandatory. As it turns out…my kid is reading at a 5th grade comprehension and very, very bright. She has a lack of confidence in her mathwork and hates gym to the point of creating ailments every single day but otherwise…the teacher is amazed how smart Spook is. YAY! So I haven’t screwed her up scholastically, and the teacher was understanding about our current anxiety inducing circumstances maybe causing Spook to be high maintenance. Point is…MY KID IS FREAKING BRILLIANT not just at reading and writing, but she is even doing well in math. ICK. Math beyond basics is lost on me. Snoozefest. Or migrainefest. Pass.

After that, the car died six times going to Salvation Army. I filled out paperwork, they gave me a list of landlord possibilities and said they could hold my paperwork for 2 weeks and help a little if I found anything before the papers expire.

Guess what?

Not only am I almost out of phone time….Ha ha ha, my anxiety is so high, making calls freaks me out! And that’s a norm for me, I dislike phones immensely unless they are for my convenience. (One of the best things about being rid of R is being rid of all his texting and calls-at-any-hours, so stressing). I’m not sure what to do about the phone thing. Guess I can go to mom’s but hey…

On the way home…the car started jerking wildly and I thought I had a flat but no, it’s the damned car itself. Transmission is failing!!!! It was all I could do to keep her running and putt along to the driveway.

So all in all…one more sucky day to add to many.

And I am ready for bed, as much as that galls me. It was 60 degrees today, I should be somewhat revived by that, at least. Though drizzle and gloom contribute as much as cold. Still…Everything is going wrong. I haven’t gotten a single donation. Seriously, how pathetic must I be when I can’t even raise $20? And this is IMPORTANT. If you hate me, fine, but think about my kid. She could cure your cancer someday. Or murder you in your sleep. It can go either way with kids.

I’m just defeated by it all and the depression says it’s time to tune out and rest.

What I want to do is WRITE. Immerse myself in a fictional world less sucky than my own because that is what makes me feel alive, what makes me happy, what makes me breathe.

But because my brain won’t behave, I can’t even have the thing I want most.

Oh, and for the record…I am NOT FUCKING AMUSED by healthcare’s new classification of mental healthcare as ‘behavioral problem management”.

If I had a CHOICE to not behave like a bipolar depressed anxiety crippled person, I sure as hell would, you ignorant fucks.

Behavioral treatment. Yeah, sure, that’s all mental illness is. Behavioral.

Because wanting to curl up into a ball and sleep forever to escape your own mind is a wonderful way to live, totally by choice and behavior.

Now my behavioral problems and I are going to…well, behave poorly by going to bed very early because sleep is better than feeling like you went ten rounds with Tyson then had the medical establishment spit in your face for daring to behaviorally bleed.

The Fresh Hell Of Anxiety Overload

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , on February 15, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Help if you can

So, yeah, another fundraiser but this time…It’s to keep a roof over my kid’s head. I doubt that’s as important as some 8 year princess raising money to have her dream bedroom decorated but…It’s necessary. Though I understand things are tough for everyone so even if you can just post to social media…We’re in a bind here and it’s eating me alive.

I did talk to ‘he who lies like a rug’ former landlord and he says we have til April 1rst though our leases are up and they won’t accept rent but we still have to pay to live here…HUH? The homeowner option is a no-go for me even without a need for financing. They monthly cost is being jacked $75, plus we’d need homeowner’s insurance, plus all maintenance would be my financial responsibility. This place is falling apart so…no thanks. That leaves…moving.And that takes funds. I can’t save anything if I am paying for another month here and my family’s already made it clear they don’t have room for me and my kid unless it’s for a day or two….So anyone who can…help!

I wasn’t feeling too bad today when I got up even though I had a pretty toss and turn and worry to panic night. I went out…then my car started dying on me. Not just at stop signs and lights…Just every ten feet. And it was straining the battery, not to mention flooding the engine. Must have died ten times before I got back from the library (to return books, I couldn’t focus enough to read with all this crap going on) and by the time I got home I was so pissed and frustrated…

I failed to make sure the seatbelt didn’t get caught in the door so two hours later, I realized the dome light had been left on and I had a dead battery. Had to call my nephew and his girlfriend for a jump start. I went out again and again, the fucker just kept dying on me. I’ve told dad and stepmonster, they used to work on my cars, but now…they won’t do fuck all for me. Because, ya know, I don’t hold a job therefore I am not relevant or worthy of help. Their neighbor, on the other hand, works and has a kid and they loaned her their spare SUV for two months. A job makes you a great person, ya know. But hey…she brought it back with a dent in it so they turned on her a bit, so maybe having a job doesn’t mean you’re flawless.

I am sooo over this car business. Just a trip to the store is beyond frustrating. I guess I should have suffered for the luxury of R buying me a different car but there comes a point where suffering is essentiallly suicidal, not to mention the strings attached. I made my bed, I will lay in it. Least it’s string free and I don’t have to hear how awesome Trump is. (Seriously, does anyone? The man Tweets how amazing he is a hundred times a day, he doesn’t need anyone else to like him. Truth hurts.)

Today I have a parent teacher conference so I will be dropping Spook at Mom’s, she’s staying the night. I am nervous as to what this teacher is going to tell me. My kid just brought home a midterm report card with 3 A pluses, an A, and a B, so her grades are fine. This is the first time since my kid started pre-k any teacher has asked for a second conference in the same grade. I am freaking out. Is this where she relates that my kid is anxious and worried and I am a terrible parent for transferring it to her? What can I say, I am honest with the child and if it causes anxiety, well I am sorry but I’d rather not wake her up one day and announce ‘we have to move, I would have told you sooner but the experts say it’s too stressful on kids.”

The anxiety has me crawling out of my skin. Yesterday after that ‘homeowner’s only’ thing was delivered to my door, I fell victim to nasty stomach issues, I barely ate, I didn’t sleep well. Freaking out would be an understatement, even though I am trying to keep my cool, somewhat. I have an appt with Salvation Army after p/t meeting, see if the can assist us in any way.

This year has been a suckfest and of course, it has to happen during one of my WORST blackest depressions ever. I didn’t even have suicidal thoughts after the donor left us penniless, that’s how I know this depressive bout has been the worst. I’ve been in far bleaker situations before and not felt this hopeless and maimed mentally. I am a step away from ripping out clumps of hair and screaming WHOSE CHEERIOS DID I PISS IN TO DESERVE THIS?

Not self pity, I know things are tough all over. It is, however, frustration, and very valid. My God, you’d think ONE thing might go right for us.

Yesterday was also a black day cos I sent 5 cats to live on the farm. Felt like having pieces of my heart carved out and carted away. They were outside, not harming anyone, whereas the neighnbor’s idget dog barks constantly every time she ties it outdoors. But nooo, the cats are the problem. People suck. Well, not all people, but lately, enough of them suck to lead me to the conclusion that basic human decency needs a toe tag.

I can’t wait til the appointments are over and my death trap car gets me home safely. It’s like I am stuck, can’t think straight, can’t eat even if I am hungry, I’m worried what the teacher is going to tell me about my kid, I am worried there is no help available as far as the housing situation goes (and for anyone who is going to suggest the housing/section 8, been there, wait list is a year long and we supposedly have until April 1rst, but scumlord lies so who knows…)

It’s maddening. No focus, no hope, no drawing of relieving breaths. But then this is pretty much my every day thanks to my stupid malfunctioning brain.At least now the masses that are asses can agree…I have good reason to be panicking and off kilter.

Amazing how many people believe in God on faith alone, never having seen proof…Yet if you have a mental illness, no one has faith it’s real cos they can’t see it.

No human decency. I wish humanity would prove me wrong.

Evicted Due To Being Broke

Posted in Uncategorized on February 14, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

One of the maintenance men delivered this to my door today. This is the FIRST any tenant has heard about them kicking us out unless we buy. The entire reason most of us live here is because we are too broke to afford a home.

My daughter and I lose our lease March 30th.

This gives 6 weeks without a spare dime to find a place and move.

To say panic is setting in is an understatement. This on top of everything else that has happened, and my own mental health struggles.

So, to my chagrin I am doing another fundraising campaign in hopes of at least getting a little money together should some other living arrangement arise.

I am livid that after 9 years of never once paying late or causing any trouble that we would be treated this shabbily but all tenants are facing this so it’s not personal against me, at least.

If you can help, PLEASE.

If not, at least pass the link on social media. I am between a rock and a hard place here and I am just trying to do right by my kid.

View Fundraiser Page Here

Thanks

The Exhaustion Of Depression

Posted in depression with tags , , , on February 14, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

After yesterday’s total immersion in the depressive abyss…I woke today feeling only slightly less inclined to keep breathing. The gray dreary weather and cold temperature sure doesn’t help. But yesterday was awful. I had lunch and started feeling sick, then got chills and curled up under fort blankie and nodded off for ninety minutes. Napping during the day is not my norm, pure depressive artifact. It was all I could do to keep going and faking normalcy for my kid. I made a little playtime for her, fed her, contemplated feeding myself but I was so cold and chilled…when she zonked, I took to fort blankie and it wasn’t even 8 p.m. I slept in spurts, aided by Xanax and melatonin. No more of that Attrax, nooooope. Proof that stuff was the culprit is that I did sleep and I don’t feel like I got hit by a truck today. Whoever created that stuff is a sadist. Probably the same idget who decided Latuda’s a good idea. (No offense to those who respond well to these medications, but I’ve been on a lot of meds with a lot of icky side effects, for me to hold a grudge means that particular med was toxic to me in every way.)

Today is the planned day to relocate the outdooor cats in hopes it will keep the landlord from evicting us. I am sad but it is necessary. The cats prefer living outdoors so a vast stretch of farmland with mice to catch and barns to sleep in and a man who will feed and water them daily…That’s better than the pound. Doesn’t make it easier. Life is lonely when you go outside and don’t see even one kitty to pet. Well, it is for me. I don’t see how the stray cats or outside cats hurt a damned thing but unfortunately, it’s asshole nation where someone’s gotta suck all the joy out of life for some of us.

Other than relocating the cats…I have no plans for today. The weather makes me feel like sludge but mostly…yesterday exhausted me. I know, it sounds ludicrous to be exhausted doing little but sleeping and yet this is the reality of depression. I have lots I could be doing but until the current depressive cycle with its debilitating physical impact passes…

At least I don’t feel suicidal. That’s something to be thankful for. Because yesterday….I really felt like I was being driven that direction.

Thank pegacorn I have the strength to ride out the black abyss days. How much longer I will have the strength is anyone’s guess.

Depression is a metastatic cancer of the mind and anyone who disagrees has obviously never been a chronic sufferer.

Miserable Valenswine’s Day to everyone.

Dark Side’s Calling

Posted in depression with tags , , , on February 13, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

I finally managed to get a really good night’s sleep. Recipe:1mg xanax, 40 mg Attrax, 3 mg Melatonin, taken within in a half hour of each other. Unfortunately, the price for sleeping through 7 hours…That Attrax has a hangover not even alcohol gives. My body feels leaden, my soul blackened, my head like concrete. I am more tired than when I didn’t sleep through and I keep wondering on what planet does anyone, let alone people with degrees, find this a good solution to my sleep disorder? And it’s not even a half assed acceptable hangover where you can at least nod back to sleep and wake up again like take two.

I am in a bad bad mental space. I was frozen idle for two days, sprang into action of some sort for two days, now today….I can’t see any hope in sight. My kid, after a sleepover at grandma’s, has spent the last 3 days since returning being an absolute jerk. Constantly questioning me, mouthing me, being dramatic, blatantly lying then saying, “Grandma says I am just going through a lying phase…” I say no, she is still arguing 10 minutes later with me. If I try to be parental, she goes drama and says she has dreams they take me away cos I am sooo mean to her…Then I get treated to more garbage from my mom’s house and how they spent all this money on Valentine’s gifts for her but I can’t even spring a dollar for chocolate for her and somehow I am the bad guy even though we have shelter and warmth and food…

I am at the end of my rope with everything. The dark thoughts in my head are so dark, they make black look like a festive color. I don’t think I am coming out of this depression alive. It’s really bad. And worse, some days I think I might be able to come out on the other side ok but then I end up with more dark days like this one where I am a failure at everything and I don’t even have self pity, I just want it to all stop, to end, to be over.

I’m exhausted. I feel eviscerated. There’s no point. The one person I love most in my life is nice to EVERYONE but me and my will to live is nil, her treating me that badly just makes me feel like maybe her dreams should come true and they should take her. God knows I can’t parent her with my mom’s faction constantly undoing it then saying ‘oh we don’t mean to do that’we just never have any problems with her.” Nope, never telling an 8 year old no and letting them eat so much sugar they come home with cookie batter in their hair…why would a child find that worth acting out against?

And then I feel like this pathetic whiner who has screwed up everything I’ve ever touched and I don’t want to absolve myself by giving up, I want to fight because I know sometimes I am the problem but then I see how others have been pretty shitty to me but their lives go on fine so again…right back to me being the only problem and what is the fucking point.

I hate feeling this way. I wasn’t in this space the last few days but then I take that damn Attrax for sleep and suddenly my entire equilibrium is haywire.

So I bide time and think how to approach the new doc without coming off as a vitriole filled demon even though I feel entirely justified that their psych nurse totally botched my treatment in every possible way and it is relevant but I can’t even speak up about it cos it just looks bad on me.

The anxiety this all causes has me rattled but I am so far down the rabbit hole…I don’t care if we get kicked out, I don’t care about much of anything right now.

That Attrax is toxic. It’s the only common denominator as I’ve taken Xanax and Melatonin for years without incident. I thought 7 solid hours of sleep would be worth the known hangover but…

Like everything else I was wrong.

Grrr….these dark mental spaces scare the hell out of me. And the fact it came on only after taking that damn sleeping pill make me more furious than I was by not sleeping.

I have to own all my bullshit that contributes to my problems yet the professionals shovel out pills that cause my mental state to be worse and they get to shrug it off, not a factor, not their fault.

Just….sick…of…it…all.

I quit drinking. I cut my caffeine intake to 5%. I have done EVERYHTHING trying to help myself…and yet…my mind just gets sicker and sicker.

And while I appreciate input, all the talk about lock down wards and shock therapy really had me freaking out because I have NEVER needed either before even if I had discussed it with a decent doctor as last resort. What I need is a good doctor with a logical plan for a med regime that will work. And for winter to go away.

Less than a month away now. Hope is there, if the dark side doesn’t drive me over the edge.

A medication has to be pretty vile, in my personal use, if not sleeping is better than the aftermath side effects. Attrax. Ranks right up there with Latuda. Pills of death.

I stopped making sense long ago…my brain is so muddled…I HATE SLEEPING MEDS. And I hate the fucking dark side because I am not beyond hope, I am not a horrible person, and to end up feeling this bad in spite of every effort to seek treatment and do away with my own behaviors that made things worse….this is galling and despicable.

Life is hard.

But when your biggest battle begins in your own mind before you even open the front door and step outside…it’s hardly a fair battle at all.

I’ve been awake 3 hours and my brain still feels clogged with cotton, none of what I am writing makes sense even to me. Wtf….