Archive for bipolar

Shower Cap Tango

Posted in bipolar disorder, single parenting with tags , , , , , on October 4, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Three years ago when Bex was here from the UK and my kid dancing to the song from Chicago. She’s wearing a shower cap because she was being treated for head lice at the time.

Cos I got nothing else to say.

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Life After Lithium-signs of life return

Posted in bipolar disorder with tags , , , , , on September 28, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Almost two weeks since I simply quit taking my 900mg lithium daily. And guess what?

I am writing again, at least in my blogs. I am doing some housework here and there. Reaching out to others. I don’t feel like the walking dead with zero emotion or energy.

No more ‘will I or won’t I barf with today’s lithium dose?” lottery. No more gaining weight even while basically starving myself. No more lack of affect.I can FEEL things again.

I did not ask my doctor’s permission. Tried that with two others and they blew me off, probably covering their own asses in the event I went bonkers. But I also take 200 mg lamictal daily and it is an excellent mood stabilizer without side effects so I feel comfortable in my choice to do away with a med that was really dragging me down. I have been through it many times. I know the signs when I need that lithium boost and I will speak up if it comes to that.

For now…I feel alive. I feel creative stirrings. Social stirrings, like maybe reaching out to people isn’t going to result in psychological devastation. My entire outlook has changed and that could be the Cymbalta/Prozac combo, too. But I have always taken issue with lithium’s side effects. It is an AMAZING medication in its effectiveness but it’s been what, 50 years, and they can’t tweak it so it doesn’t make you feel like the walking dead and sickly? Besides, I am axis 2 on bipolar scale, more depression than mania so two mood stabilizers is overkill, it makes sense that I’d feel less numb taking the worse one out of the mix.

I don’t advise others to up and quit their meds. I am just at the mercy of a rural area, shit insurance, and a psych center that’s been through 4 doctors in the last 2 years. No stability, few who listen to me when telling them how it freaks my kid out when I take lithium and end up puking over the toilet…No, I made an executive decision after waiting and waiting for one of them to HEAR me. Maybe this is just coming off the stuff and I’ll go back down the rabbit hole. Maybe not. It’s worth the risk just to be able to laugh again-and mean it.

Talk to your docs/nurse if you need med changes. Do it the right way. But always advocate for yourself, a medication should never make you feel worse even if it stabilizes the ups and downs.

Sidenote…

My kid and I are going through something right now so check out our story and share if you’d be so kind. Merci. And happy early Halloween.

Poetry,sort of in motion

Posted in depression, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on April 12, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

I have been up since 2 a.m. I woke and tried to get back to sleep but FAIL. So I bided time with a little housekeeping and lots of blank mindless staring at the tv. (There is nothing on worth watching tip 5 a.m. IF my antenna is pulling in that particular channel.) I tried watching Forensic Files on computer but alas,the cats chewed through my external speaker cord for the nth time. R has fixed them half a dozen times,told me there’s little left to solder so pitch em. This saddens me as they are the best sounding speakers I have ever had and for sixty bucks,they lasted over 7 years.

Anyway…I got my kid off to school and for the first time in weeks…I could sit outside at 7:45 a.m. without a coat,just my Murderdolls tshirt. It is sunny,warm,glorious. Forecast indicates it will stick for three days then back to the 20’s and. 30’s. Ick. We had snow Sunday and it was nineteen degrees. These extremes are hell on those with seasonal depression.

Having mentioned hell,I stopped by to get the dog’s leash as I was to fetch her after her spaying appt…and my dad announced he was riding with me cos the dog doesn’t know me too well.

Wtf? I talked to stepmonster last night and this was NOT mentioned. I was crestfallen. My dad’s overly critical and driving with him in the car makes me feel like a 16 year old noob even at 45. Not to mention his need to weigh in on any money I spend even when it’s for my ‘crazy pills’. (Yet my half brother is on mood stabilizers,anti depressants and anti anxiety drugs but he’s got ‘REAL’ problems,being special ed and all.) One more case of ignorant people thinking just because you average or above average intelligence means there is nothing wrong with you.

So all my errands (almost) where he could flog me for spending a quarter instead of getting trash service (that costs $85, not a damn quarter) were cancelled. I got a lecture cos Godsmack had 5 kittens and our lease says only one inside and I shouldn’t have let her get preggo and I should have her fixed($$$$???). Wtf am I supposed to do? I didn’t know she was knocked up,I kept her from males at the trailer park but since scumlord would never fix the hole in the vent system, a male got inside and did his thing. I didn’t even know she was expecting til we’d been here a month.

But that is the hell that is my dad. His parents critiqued him all his life and so goes the trickle down effect.

I was glad to just fetch the dog and get dad out of my car so the panic would die down and I could breathe. (Trust me,the immaturity,idiocy,and irony of a mouth heavy metal chick of 45 still getting flustered around mommy and daddy does not escape me.)

BUT to my dad’s credit,he didn’t put down my driving even once.

After I calmed down…I made another trip to town. Seems silly but I was out of my meds and the trip was inevitable anyway. That’s how shitty my dad makes me feel about my condition. I skipped the pharmacy just to avoid the ‘you’re able bodied,you’re just drawing disability cos you’re lazy’ speech.

So errands are done,and I am back in Armpit. I dread the homework hour when Spook gets home. She can’t focus or won’t,half asses shit, has fits if I correct her then verbally attacks me when her grade suffers cos she wouldn’t listen to me. I miss the teacher in town who never sent homework home and my kid was an A+ student. But since that school focused on core math and didn’t teach much cursive,my kid is struggling,bringing home F’s,and embarrassed that she’s been assigned extra help. Poor kid. And damn this new teacher for being so exacting. Apparently I was initialing Spook’s homework so messily,this teacher asked if my kid was forging my initials. Just to be a smartass yesterday I used a bright purple pen and signed my full legal name in cursive real big,complete with i’s dotted by smiley faces. Fuck ’em.

And now that shocker: I wrote a poem this morning and it’s not all brooding and dark. Enjoy.

—-

Days spent in darkness,cold,alone,hopeless.

The sunlight peeks out of the sky.

My mind opens as if a curtain has been parted.

Warmth brushes my skin.

My soul whispers, ‘I’m alive again.’

Word Salad

Posted in anxiety disorders, Uncategorized with tags , , , on March 28, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Just curious…does anyone else have trouble interpreting things they hear due to some brain short circuit type ‘word salad’ snafu?

It happens to me a little too often for my comfort.

The docs have no problem admitting meds can cause tardive dyskinesia, but tell them years of taking the assortment of pills have turned your brain into a misfiring skull contained mess of cole slaw…

You may as well have sprouted foil covered horns on a second head. That’s how much credence they give my complaints,anyway.

I know I didn’t used to be this scrambled and it has nothing to do with age or lack of intelligence.

I will never be convinced that 20 plus years of the pharmacopia cocktails haven’t given me Jello salad brain.

It’s just a theory I have but fairly credible- doctors are reluctant to confirm any negative psych med side effect that hasn’t be substantiated by ten thousand patients and an FDA warning because…

Honestly,how many people would knowingly take these meds if told it could make you stupid and feeble ten,twenty years down the line?

I don’t think I would have even given the meds a second try had I known my impending status as a not so proud owner of a salad shooting brain.

I wasn’t afforded that luxury so now I have to listen to things 4,5,6 times,replay it in my head,say it aloud…and there are times it never does actually hit home and register as gobbledygook. I feel dumb as bellybutton lint on a daily basis due to salad brain.

Also a major self confidence crusher is the constant blank outs and tip-of-my-tongue words that vanish or never even appear.

Is this a big enough issue to swear off meds? If I knew the salad could be reassembled back to lettuce,tomatoes,radishes,dressing,and croutons,maybe.

Damage is done though and I know on the green moon when meds work well it’s worthwhile…so I’ll take the salad brain even though I’d rather eat squirrel than rabbit food…

Still..,your intelligence having to be sacrificed for sanity…

Is there anything mental health issues doesn’t take from us?

Mama Roach’s Last Resort

Posted in bipolar disorder, gofundme campaign with tags , , , , on August 27, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

So…In a hypo-manic state after burying my dead cats, washing dishes, sweeping, vacuuming, washing laundry, folding and putting away laundry (kid is at church, very productive time)…I revamped my fundraiser page.

You can click that pic and it will take you there. I cut back on the long winded ‘my story’ part. I tossed in some heavy metal flavored humor. I posted the pic from last night and then thought, oh, god, people will see that and say, ‘no wonder she has bugs.” Fact is, the ceilings were that discolored when we moved in 8 years ago and if the landlord considers fixing your heat a hindrance, your ceiling color isn’t getting fixed.

Still, you can see the bugs are just moving into new corners as soon as the efficacy of the spray wears off. I knew something was up when we moved in and I noticed all the corners had big pieces of scotch tape on them. I of course took it down…But the previous tenants had done that in an effort to seal off the bugs’ entrance. Which means the bug problem is this particular lot/court, not each individual.

Anyway…Click it, don’t click it, you may get a laugh even if you can’t donate or you can pass it on. Now my hypomania is fading fast because soon my kid will be home, and soon, the next battle will begin. This morning it was 20 minutes of her lamenting that I wouldn’t put mascara on her because she suddenly decided her lashes make her look ugly. I don’t know what’s coming next, with her, or with me. That I haven’t gone homicidal kinda makes me think I deserve a kick ass superhero name. Snarkasma is cool and all, but perhaps…When I am being really bad ass in spite of everything being shit…

CastIronWoman.

No? Meh.

Trintellix, Lamictal, Wellbutrin, Bad Juju

Posted in bipolar disorder with tags , , , on July 10, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Just a brief post on yet again, medication side effects. And what I have learned since starting Trintellix is…Taken by itself I am fine. When, in an effort to evade my bad memory and avoid forgetting meds, I tossed in my Lamictal and Wellbutrin with it twice and became nauseous, sleepy, and my stomach began to hurt, badly. Now since mental health care and meds are as much artform as science, I suppose there’s no way of foreseeing that this would be a bad combination to take at the same time. If I wait fifteen or so minutes to add the other two, I am fine.

Aside from the horrid stomach aches from mixing with other meds, the Trintellix is neither harming nor helping. It’s been 3 days though, so fair enough. I just cannot believe the misery I am in now simply because I wanted to take all three meds at once to avoid forgotten and missed doses.

Trying to plan a life around all this medication complication is a bitch. I am all but retching over the toilet when not curled up in stomach pain and my kid is furious with me because my pain overshadowed the fake concert she was going to put on. Kinda like R when these med complications screw up HIS plans. It’s all about everyone else and how this inconveniences them.

Medicated or hormonal or sane or not..That should make anyone pissed off, to be surrounded by so many selfish assholes who don’t care what you’re going through except that it inconveniences them.

On the other hand…Putting ourselves through all these trial and error meds and the side effects and failures…It negates the naysayers who claim we are malingerers who don’t want to get better. Psych meds are like gargling Drano and hoping it doesn’t kill you. No one would do this unless they wanted to feel better desperately.

So that is all. If you have med side effects that the professionals say you can’t have because their iphone says it’s not listed in the side effect post from the pharma gods…We are all different, all have different combos of meds to take, and IT IS NOT IN OUR HEADS when this stuff makes us sick.

And P.S.- I really find it disconcerting when my doctor, nurse practitioner and even the pharmacist are consulting their smart phones to inform me about my medications. I miss back when people read books. Grumpy Morgue out.

Manifest Anxiety

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , , on May 24, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

I have run the emotional gamut over the last 4 days from too depressed to be awake to wanting to die to “I’m okay-ish” to today’s “I was fine then the anxiety started gnawing away at me and I had to go out near people and now I am either having a nervous breakdown or a psychotic break”.

Mixed state. Icky.

Sunday my will to live was nil. The bad thoughts were kicking my ass and I was starting to believe their lies, especially when my kid was hosting 6 different kids and shrieks were the ambient noise. That day I managed to wash dishes and fold six baskets of laundry, not out of will, but out of desperation to drown out the depression and its lies of how worthless I am.

Monday was survivable.

Yesterday…I hadn’t eaten in 36 hours, took my meds, and started throwing up. Then my stomach started to churn and not even milk and Pecid were taking it down. I got excessively sleepy and had to stumble through the day ticking off minutes til my kid was asleep so I could escape to dreamland, too.

Today didn’t start out bad. But then came time in the dish and traffic and oh, some dumbfucks parked in the middle of the road arguing about who was the shittier driver. That was pleasant because confrontation sits so well with me. That ratcheted up the anxiety to fever pitch.

Part of this week’s anxiety is being at the shop 4-6 while R is out of town. It’s not that there’s anything to do. Whatever was asked of me was done Monday and now it’s ghost town aside from talking to elderly people who wander in and seem to just want conversation. No, I think it’s the responsibility factor. Like someone trusting their child to you when you’re in the middle of having a seizure and a heart attack as well as being dosed with roofies. I have enough with my kid and cats and home…But ya know, I am forcing myself outside my comfort zone for a friend and also, giving the depression and anxiety the middle finger. Fuck you, I can and will do this, even if it lands me in the Rubber Ramada.

Price for this forced functionality and rebellion is immense. Because I sit home and wonder, did I lock the door, did I turn everything off, did I forget something…Crushing responsibility at the moment. But when not mixed, when not getting my ass kicked by a seasonal depression that’s lasted 8 months…it wouldn’t be a big deal. I am capable enough. At this time, though, I am also altered so much, putting on pants is a challenge.

Of course, I can’t tell anyone around me that. I have to pretend to be just fine because Niki is too smart to be depressed. As if intelligence has fuck all to do with depression or bipolar. I can’t tell my family how bad it is because then they will start thinking I am unfit to care for my child. Yet as I fall apart, my kid is still fed, clean, clothed, going to school, and has friends. No, I am the one I am unfit to take care of. I do the bare minimum for myself because that is what it takes to be a competent mother while in this hellish state of mental unhealth.

Not a word there? I just made it one.

So two more days after today and hopefully R will be back and I will be free of added responsibility. Because I am wearing down and breaking down and I don’t even get to tell my doctor about it, he’s so busy I get to see the nurse in spite of an 8 month depression that’s barely been alleviated due to the fact the midwest still thinks it’s late winter. FFS.

Writing this has given me a headache.

I am gonna tell the nurse I just want to go low dose Cymbalta. I’ve been on it two or three times and the high doses always make my anxiety go insane. I am thinking this time with the Wellbutrin (if they can be mixed, cos you can’t say it’s so just cos the internet said it is) maybe I can be skyrocketed out of the abyss. Cymbalta has done it for me before, one of the best meds ever used by me if you discount high doses causing mania and anxiety. I just hope it’s not a case of “I have to talk to the doctor and he’s gone for 6 eons so you can’t get a script til he returns from Planet Neomaxiezoomdweebie”.

And I best not hear “outpatient therapy”, either. I am beyond the point where talking and art therapy are useful. I am up and ambling about and my anger is keeping me alive…I just want some damned balance and maybe the will to live. Because the way things are going with the new president…the disabled are going to be disposable and I’d like to have my mental ducks in a row before that happens.

And by disposable, I mean, bye bye benefits, not that the Trumpire wants to suck our blood and kill us.

Hey, don’t look at me, college humor came up with that nickname for him. I just like it.