Archive for anger

F*cking emotional!

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on June 30, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

My dad’s crew just left.

My kid is crying over her diaper rash. As if I am indeed speaking Japanese trying to teach her to use a toilet so she doesn’t get a diaper rash from the pull-ups.

My mind is a mine field of misfiring emotions and discombobulated thoughts. It’s making me want to die. At this moment, I feel so alone, so shitty, like such an incompetent misfit, that I should be sentenced to death.

It sounds so pathetic and dramatic and yet the misfiring chemicals and hormones are all at war, putting these thoughts into my head, making me just emotionally wonky enough to buy into the party line about how horrid I am as a person.

The stepmonster read to my kid.

All I could think was, “God, I am such a failure, when I read, the kid won’t pay attention two seconds.”

I got texts from R, telling me how fantastic his party was and I should have been there and a mutual friend neither of us had seen in 10 years was even there…

And that got me thinking, “Wow, Shane couldn’t be bothered to call or drop in and meet my kid, but he could go to a drunken shindig for R. I really am chopped liver.”

And feeling that way makes me view myself as so pathetic and weak.

Because ultimately, not going was my choice. The cramps were a factor, but mainly, I just didn’t want to face the social anxiety. I’d like to think it was a controlled decision. A choice.

Fact is, I let the disorder kick my ass.

And I apparently missed one hell of a shindig.

But not being there isn’t the problem.

It’s the fact that Shane, who I loved dearly, did not even send me a text while he was in town. I knew him before he ever met R, and yet, for R he could be there. He’s never even met Spook.

God, I am making myself want to puke with all these bullshit thoughts.

I am the one who chose not to go, yet here I am feeling all victimized? What the fuck is wrong with me?

And three posts in one day, wow, that’s how you know I am feeling really mental. When I am stable, I don’t have much to talk about. Today is not one of those days because stable has left the building, leaving behind this husk of a pathetic whiny bitch who can’t regulate her own emotions, can’t shake off the Seroquel cobwebs, and can’t stop thinking death is the only thing I am worthy of because I am such a waste of space.

Perhaps the hardest thing about any of it and all of it is that the bottom line is: I have never belonged anywhere in my life. I don’t fit. Anywhere. With anyone.

And because I am socially programmed to feel bad about it, I do.

But the fact of the matter is, I much prefer being alone and doing my own thing. When you have to drink just to enjoy someone’s company, then obviously you’re not meshing. And that’s how it has been with everyone I have ever known for the most part.

I’m not arrogant enough to think it’s anything but my own failing.

And in my current state, feeling like a giant failure is not going to go any place good. It is likely going to be one of those nights where I force myself to bed early, hoping for the brain “reboot” that comes with sleep so I can wake up in a different mind space.

I don’t know if I will feel better tomorrow, though. Probably won’t start to level off hormonally until Wednesday.

Now if that isn’t depressing, what is?

God, just to feel like there is ONE THING I can do right.

And be able to believe it beyond the next mood swing.

My goals are modest.

 

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Screaming

Posted in mental illness with tags , , on March 18, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

One of my all time favorite lines from a song “I’m often silent when I’m screaming inside.” (Warrant “The Bitter Pill”)

That’s how I have felt for so long now, it’s becoming maddening. Like a volcano about to erupt. I don’t think it’s a matter of if I blow, I think at this point it’s just when.

Even the people who are supposed to be on  my side…I view them as enemies who just aren’t listening when I do try to express myself.

So I am left with all this festering anxiety and anger and frustration.

Tick tock.

It’s coming.

And I hate that I try so hard to talk but n0 one will hear me.

Tick tock.

Not my finest hour

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , on March 8, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

It was a long stressful day. Culminating in a trip to the dollar store, where my kid defied me at every turn, ran around like a banshee and screamed that I was hurting her if I tried to hold her by the hand or pick her up and carry her. People were staring. That’s not my paranoia. By the third person gawking at me continuously no matter which aisle we were in…I snapped.

I said, “Let’s go because the next person who stares at me I am gonna use their intestines for a jump rope.”

Not

my

finest

hour.

I could make excuses, rationalizations, apologies.

I’m not going to.

My kid has me ready to resign as mommy. Earlier at my mom’s she told me she didn’t want to come home with me. She said she didn’t like me.

I try so hard for her and I know kids, especially toddlers, are an ungrateful lot because they don’t grasp the concept of gratitude or the world not revolving around them…

But it really hurts to love someone so much and have them punch you in the face emotionally ten times a day. I’m barely keeping my head above water and it feels like my own kid is against me, wanting me to go over that edge.

Distorted thought? Panic talking? Too much stress?

I thought about calling the counseling crisis number, just to have someone to talk to, see if they have any ideas what I should do. I mean, I am known as the emasculator of men, I make grown men and women cry because I am allegedly so mean (I prefer the term brutally honest.) Yet with this mini me from hell, I am but a joke to her. Her disrespect and humiliating me in public hurts in ways I can’t begin to put into words. I want to quit this mommy gig.

Hell, I want to quit this life gig.

I should make the call but then there’s a record of me losing my marbles, which can be used against me to prove I can’t handle being a mom.

I can deal. But it’s gotten harder since the med change. And there are just some days where you feel so utterly hopeless that things will ever change, that you will ever be able to reach that cyclone called a child…My counselor assures me this is normal.

I still feel like an ogre.

And I really need to stop threatening to snap people’s necks and use their intestines for jumprope. It’s one thing if it’s a joke. Tis another thing when I am just going off the rails with paranoia and panic.

And it’s utterly unnecessary is the sad thing.

I hate myself.

 

Got venom?

Posted in anxiety disorders, biolar disorder with tags , , , on March 6, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

Quick recap: Monday I wanted everyone dead and feared going out. So I called maintenance to come look at my clogged drain to buy myself some time for a mood shift. Surprise, they never showed and my mood never did shift.

Tuesday: I forced myself out the door,leaving my number on the door so maintenance could just call when they deemed my problem important enough to bother with. I went to the shop and made it abundantly clear I was in no mood to deal. Not that R noticed or cared. So I spent my day in a homicidal anxiety state while he was happy and dancing about and …It’s sooo very hard not to be mean to people who see you are struggling yet almost mock you with their happiness. I know it’s not fair to think that way, but it is what it is.

I came home last night, my kid went to sleep, and I did too. I didn’t stay asleep, woke like four times and guilt tripped for being so utterly lazy and devoid of gumption but damn it, I was soo cold and soo tired.

Today…Well they fixed my drain and I am now rushing to get some clean clothes otherwise I am gonna have to go out pantsless. Which in 30 degree weather is not a good thing. The indecent exposure thing, eh, I could handle. But the cold…No, I am a wuss. I haven’t showered in like three days, which adds to my further self loathing. Yet I am writing this post rather than forcing my scuzzy ass into the shower. My functionality is seriously questionable right now.

I don’t feel quite as angry, but that’s subject to change. It seems the more stress and noise that is tossed my way, the worse it gets. Which is just a revisit to where I was in October 2010 when I didn’t have Xanax. People swear I am making it up but even The Donor saw the difference the Xanax made in me and he was totally anti xanax. I don’t know why it works the way it does for me, it just does. I don’t know why klonopin works so well for others but does nothing for me. Maybe I am an alien.

In other news…Following Nightshade having kittens, Belladonna followed suit and had four lovelies Sunday night, all of them healthy and lovely. I am six kittens richer. I should be freaking out but ya know what…Kittens make me happy so at least for six weeks until they are weaned and I have to find them homes…I have a built in anti depressant.

I really don’t want to go fake it all day. Because make no mistake, I AM faking it. My stupid brain keeps telling me it’s dangerous out there and everyone is out to get me. Not like to kill me, but to do me emotional harm. In four weeks, I have circled the fucking drain. I see the shrink next Wednesday but I’m not convinced she will listen to me. Apparently, xanax is like heroin and doctors frown upon it. Which pisses me off to no end because it discounts a medication that works wonders for some of us and we shouldn’t be penalized just because it happens to be addictive and a bunch of idiots abused it. I’ve been on this rant before, haven’t I?

Whatever.

The anxiety has begun. Which leads to the anger and paranoia. Which leads to screaming at random people and  hissing and spewing venom.

I wonder if I will ever stabilize enough to gain any quality of life. To think I could have another 30, 40 years of this existence…makes me want to drink bleach.

With a drano chaser.

Ray of fucking sunshine, ain’t I?

Crematorium

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , on March 4, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

I feel like I am burning inside today. It is not so much a depression as an all encompassing nervous anger where I want to scream at everyone and everything. My gums already ache from gnashing my teeth, trying to keep it in check. I do not want to deal with people right now. It will not end well for them. Then I will have to feel guilty for being  a bitch even though I didn’t ask for this and I don’t know why I feel this way.

I just know if you get too close to a crematorium, you’ll get burned.

But of course, “venomous mood” is not a valid excuse to avoid what must be done.

I am about to say screw valid. I can’t afford to burn bridges over a mood subject to change at some point today.

My kid keeps asking me why I am not happy, who I made me feel angry. It’s not any different trying to explain mood swings t a 3 year old than it is to 50 year olds.

No one gets it.

I am fighting it with all I have got. But I am failing.

 

Smother Theresa

Posted in panic disorder with tags , , , , on February 11, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

Eh, I saw a list of banned bands last week for some religious based radio station and the band name Smother Theresa was on there. It made me laugh like the blasphemous heathen that I am.

But if fits, because it is 3:17 am and I just woke up and my mind is churning with stressed out angry thoughts to the point I feel like I am smothering. On my own anxiety, my frustration, my anger.

The pressure put on me by R expecting me to be at the shop five days a week is crushing me. I have tried to tell him and he just won’t hear me. His self absorption is pissing me off. The way he manipulates me into feeling guilty for feeling the way I do pisses me off further. The entire week I had that bad reaction to Topamax and could have ended up blind and hospitalized…and I tried to talk to him about how bad I was feeling and that I needed to be home waiting for the toxicity to end…It went over his head, he said he needed me there. Then I spent the entire days occasionally answering  a phone or running to get his lunch or beer. Nothing else was needed of me.

It’s shit like that that leads to me waking up in a panic like this. I do not walk the tightrope well. If I keep burning the candle at both ends this way, I am going to wind up in the looney bin.

I just don’t know what to do, I have been clear as day, he won’t listen. I don’t want to burn any bridges. I like the guy,he’s been good to me and my kid and I don’t mind helping out when there’s stuff to do. But this shit where I am his security blanket so he doesn’t have to be alone…It’s asinine and I can’t believe he doesn’t see how asinine it makes him.

I keep trying to discern if this is all because of the med changes and mental stuff.

I’ve been feeling this way for weeks now.

This is how I feel. And that I tell him and he blows me off makes it all the much worse.

It’s headed to a bridge burning that I really don’t want to do.

Ignoring me is not a good idea. I usually play nice…Until I don’t. When I play not nice, it tends to be an ugly affair. It’s how I lost most of the jobs I’ve had, is trying to tell people when I am getting crushed under the stress and being told to suck it up. I don’t have that ability. I don’t have a brain that sends or accepts the correct messages.

3:30 am

He expects me there by 8:30.

His expectation crushes me.

My kid is out of control and wields the “I want grandma” knife when I say the word no. Before her father left, before I started being gone all the time and my mom began ruining my kid, we had a bad day here and there but she was pretty well behaved. Now there are times I feel like I am being held at toddler point, she’s an emotional terrorist. It’s not merely a kid being a kid. This is my mother’s influence.

All so a 50 year old man doesn’t have to be by  himself, to the point he’s willing to buy my lunch and smokes every single day. Meanwhile, I’m going into meltdown mode.

I broke down and took a Xanax earlier. The klonopin has the same effect of popping tic tacs, for fuck sake. And of course, I keep wondering if it’s just me, if’s some sort of psychological thing. Because I have been so trained to doubt myself, to question myself, to defer to everyone’s judgement of everything being all in my head.

I just want to be the mom I used to be, when my kid would listen to me and I didn’t feel like I was smothering everyday. I am not ready for this 30-40 hour thing yet, not with the meds in flux and my head so screwed up. That people expect me to be pisses me off further. I am not being allowed to mend at my own pace and it’s starting to crush me.

My head is hurting.

The clock is ticking.

My heart is pounding.

My blood is boiling with the indignant anger of being completely and utterly ignored by someone who claims to be a friend and care about my well being.

I

am

smothering.

Getting my ass kicked by the medi-go-round

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on November 24, 2012 by morgueticiaatoms

Long time, no post, I know.

Since I started coming off the Effexor and was put on Wellbutrin, life has gone to hell in a handbasket.

Counselor and doctor swear the agressive angry tear soaked tantrums I’ve been having for six weeks are from Effexor withdrawal.

I think they are full of shit and I have pretty much put it to the test by stopping the Wellbutrin without dr approval.

Oh,sure Effexor withdrawal blows, the lethargy and brain zaps and mental confusion are soul sucking.

But…it’s been five days and I have not had another screaming mimi tearfest.

I am still weaning off Effexor, I just nixed the Wellbutrin. Primary problem seems to be going away.

Well, except for yesterday, but that was more internal anger, which coincides every single month with the curse, so I chalk that up to hormones. Though the pms-anger really isn’t something people should joke about. It’s like a fever of unknown origin burning through your entire system. Not pleasant.

But I have not been screaming, bashing my head into walls, throwing shit and acting like an all around psychopath.

Improvement.

I am still so low I’d have to look up to see a snake’s belly but choosing depression over a drug that makes you act like Linda Blair in the exorcist seems wiser to me.

Besides, it’s the seasonal affect disorder in all its glory with the added strain of holidays and financial stress on top of it all, so I am actually exactly on track for where I am mentally every other year in history at this time.

Not a comfort, but keeping the status quo, yada yada.

I called the dr office and told them I want off the Wellbutrin. (You can never be honest with doctors, that;s just crazy talk, cos they know everything and all their books and literature are far more accurate on drug side effects than ya know, the person taking the drug having them.) Of course with the holiday dr is out of office,so I await their call. Knowing this woman, she will insist I stay on the Wellbutrin.

Not fucking happening.

I have never had such a side effect from a med before.

I have,however, been through Effexor withdrawal three times, and I know all about the brain zaps, the exhaustion, the confusion of reality versus mental state, potential auditory and visual hallucinations, the paranoia, the panic, the terror.

Never once was I homicidally angry.

I didn’t rule it out, that was why I stayed on the Wellbutrin, lest it just be my hubris at work.

Having proven it to myself by ceasing the Welbutrin, I am convinced.

I hate this shit. Fucking hate it. Lately I have been wondering if I shouldn’t just try to exist on the Lamictal alone. This whole anti depressant route has never ever worked out for me, ever.

Maybe I’m not depressed,maybe this downtrodden life-is-not-worth-living thing is just my normal state of mental being.

The dark hours, where all will to live seeps out of  me and I start fantasizing about passive ways to just cease to exist (God knows you can’t mention the word suicide, because no matter how bad you feel, that’s an unacceptable thing to ponder, ever.) The dark hours tell me I need something extra to help me out of the rabbit hole.

But what?

I have tried about everything. And the ones I haven’t tried are the ones my insurance won’t pay for it.

So what’s left?

I guess surviving Effexor withdrawal and the holidays need to be my priorities right now.

Then deal with the doctor trying to shove anti psychotics on me. I’m not psychotic,or wasn’t until I married the Donor or took Wellbutrin. (small joke.) I understand the cross labeling and uses for different conditions, blah blah blah.

But I have tried several of those and other than making me even heavier than I am and putting me into a coma for 12 hours a day, they didn’t fuckin g help at all.

Do these doctors even have a clue what antipsychotics do to a person? Oh, sure, they’ve come along way, in as much most don’t turn you into a drooling zombie these days.

But if you are heavy to begin with, constantly battling people and doctors nagging you about how you have to lose some weight then you go taking a med that puts 20-30 pounds on you even if you eat nothing but water and live on a treadmill…That’s worse for your condition, not better.

Not to mention the sleepiness and mental fog and the fact,in my case, THAT THEY DO NOT FUCKING WORK.

Gahhhhh.. I am so frustrated.

I keep putting on the normal functional person mask every day, and I get more resentful every day I have to do it. It makes me aware that I have NO friends or caring family members or otherwise I wouldn’t have to fake it in their presence, they’d understand. But none of them do. Take a pill, be better, move one. That’s the mentality. Though most scoff at the taking a pill thing, because even if it does improve my condition, well, mental conditions aren’t real, they’re just part of the pharmaceutical company conspiracy to make us all dependent on drugs and line their pockets with money.

I am surrounded by fucking multiple Tom Cruise clones.

(And yes I am using the F word a lot, but it helps me channel my anger rather than, you know, setting people on fire.)

(Another little joke. Sorta.)

I

am

so

sick

of

pretending.

I am sick of R and Kenny making comments on being my being snippy or not myself when I flat out told them what’s going on, albeit I did dummy it down a lot for their comprehension and left out a chunk of reality to protect them from the ugliness of it all.

Withdrawal from Effexor is worse than going off Xanax, for me.

There really is no stepping down from Effexor. Sure, you can do two weeks at 150, 2 weeks at 75, two weeks at 37.5

Then you’re looking at another two weeks to a month of neverending brain zaps which is akin to having an electroprobe in your brain and some little sadist off somewhere with a remote control zapping you every so often with varying degrees of intensity.

Oh what fun.

And the ignorant masses think we put ourselves through all these medications and side effects and withdrawal because it’s fun or something?

It’s been so long since I knew what is an actual physical symptom and what is a medication side effect, I could be dying of some disease and not even know it. The meds make you question every ache, every gas bubble, even changes in bathroom habits and menstrual cycles.

I would not choose this in a gazillion years if it weren’t for the years long hard lesson learned proving I have a condition that needs medicated.

Now…

I just need to find my genie in a bottle, ie, the magic bullet, ie, the one drug that works. I am quite happy with Lamicatal for the mood swings, but the depression just keeps seeping in and mopping the floor with me.

First things first,I suppose.

Avoid Wellbutrin like the plague and focus on getting off Effexor.

Do you ever get sick of your own melodrama? I am so tired of my roller coaster of a life. Look, I’m doing good.

Oh,look, I’m not doing so well.

Hey, I’m going under here…

Oh, wait, I’m doing great again.

No, wait…

Bloody hell.

I’m sick of my disorders, sick of myself, sick of the world, sick of it all.

Unfortunately, they don’t make pills for disgust.