Archive for depression

2+2 equals fish

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , , on June 27, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

I know, I know. WTF is with that title? Just one of those quirky things that happen when you have a small kid. I tried to explain to Spook how it is more cost effective to get 20 cookies for a dollar versus 4 tiny candy bars for a dollar. And she said, “Two plus two equals fish.” And it just hit me as being really funny. Not that I had a laugh or anything. NOPE.

Because pms week has arrived and I am crampy and my emotions are out of whack and like the grown up I am, I am practicing avoidance behavior concerning R. I cannot deal with someone that broken right now. And yeah, he has the successful life and dozens of friends and nice cars and blah blah blah…But the fact he can’t be supportive and he can’t allow me to have emotions without treating me like I am suffering from ebola…He is the broken one. Not the devil but also…Not bringing much positive to the table.

The depression still has a stranglehold, but at least it’s no longer the suicidal depression. MY lawn needs mowed and I can’t seem to get off my ass and do it. But at least my house is only biohazard 2, mostly because, ha ha ha, I broke the vacuum again.

The anxiety and exhaustion are at fever pitch, courtesy of my uber popular kid and all her friends being in my face (even if from a distance) 24-7…MOM MOM MOM MOM MOM. And the kids always asking for our food when I can barely afford to feed my own kid and then I gotta feel like a stingy monster for saying no, I can’t feed 5 different kids every single day.

I still haven’t had my lithium level drawn and checked. I am gonna ask to be taken off of it. Lamictal does fine as long as I’m not on mania overlord…as for the Cymbalta…I think it’s curtains. Maybe the nurse practitioner can suggest a newer one. SOMETHING has got to get me out of the abyss. Like the start of school and oh, R getting called back to his work so I can be free of parts this, parts that, do this, do that. What can I say, I feel indebted and on a good day, ordering shit from home isn’t too taxing. On the bad days, the demands, the expectations…it’s too fucking much and I melt down. And when I am all hormonal and feeling every emotion to the nth degree but I can’t even speak to the man because he will make it all about him being right and me being lazy or too emotional or whatever excuse that makes him not responsible for anything.

But that could be the pms talking. THough after 6 years…I am doubting it. The feelings have remained the same, only the intensity changes. I’ll own that. I will NEVER be okay with people who refuse to accept me, moods and feelings and all, while expecting me to accept their shitty qualities.

Sad to say, the ones guiltiest of this…are my own family.

So…Much…Noise

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , , on June 18, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Two posts, one day, what a flood poster I am. Oh, well, venting is needed.

Since my kid smashed the tablet and has continually lied, she’s been grounded. Throw in the head lice, and I am STILL finding nits, which means another treatment and all bedding washed and floors vacuumed…

She never ever stops talking. MOM MOM MOMMY MUM MUM MORGUE MOM MOM MUM MUM. She’s a non cartoon version of Family Guy’s Stewie. And much as I love her and hard as I try…I can’t change who I am, who I was before she was born.

Too much noise, especially incessant noise, is a trigger. It sets off the worst of my anxiety and panic, it upsets my equilibrium, and I get headaches and my patience is nil. It would be better if the child would ever listen to me and mind. I’ve explained my noise sensitivity over and over, explained that mom asking for ten or twenty minutes of peace and quiet is not neglect or abuse…She just doesn’t get it. Unless it’s someone else bugging her while she is watching a show or playing with friends, then it’s a national tragedy.

It’s not been a month yet school has been out and even without her revolving door of friends…I feel like my brain is climbing out of my skull, desperate to flee the scene of all the noise. Mind you, it’s not exclusive to her. I have this issue with traffic, crowded stores, even cookouts with more than 5 people present. Noise just lands me face down in the anxiety gutter. I’ve tried to explain it to her, to my family, to friends…No one gets it. And I’ve read enough of others’ blogs to know that I am not alone in my noise sensitivity. It’s hellish to not be able to handle standard issue white noise life delivers. The McMuggles think I am a wimp, putting on an act, being a crybaby.

Oddly, these are the same people with their own triggers. For R it’s heights and he avoids them but for whatever reason, that’s okay. My sister is scared of storms and hordes up in the basement with her cats every time there’s thunder or lightning. My stepmonster hates snakes and fears them. My kid has a phobia of being alone and not having friends, it scares her. WE ALL HAVE OUR ISSUES.

My question is….WHY IS IT OKAY FOR THEM TO CLING TO THEIR ISSUES/PHOBIAS WHICH REALLY DON’T AFFECT THEM LIVING A NORMAL LIFE…Yet I have physical reactions to my triggers but I am supposed to suck it up, snap out of it, get over it, grow up. ???WTF is that?

So, yeah, her never ending chatter and refusal to even give me ten minutes’ peace has me on edge. I think it’s legitimate and well explained. Though 9 more weeks of it is daunting. Still, after the tablet smash and all the lies (she kept lying to me today about stupid shit)…I am sticking to her grounding even if it punishes me as much as it attempts to discipline her. Her added lies earned her 2 more days grounding and if she keeps it up…it will keep adding up. She claims to be “scared” to tell the truth. I haven’t so much as swatted her butt in a year. I may raise my voice after telling her to do/not do something multiple times and being ignored…I may ground her from her bike or friends…But I am not abusive. She is manipulative. And it stems from the way my stepmonster basically yells at her but no amount of trying to reason with that woman works. So I end up looking like the monster. Yay.

Dad asked Spook today if she wants to come stay 4 days with them in July for their church’s summer camp and the minute he said ‘you can play with other kids’ she was all about it. Which has to make you wonder just how scared she is of her step grandma if she wants to spend 4 days there with them. My kid is a conundrum. Then, aren’t we all.

Aside from the rampaging nerve ending devouring anxiety due to too much noise…My mood held up pretty well today. I spent hours texting my sister. Of course, since I am normally introverted and don’t text, no doubt her and mom will think I am drunk. Dumbasses can’t grasp bipolar to save their lives. Some days…most days…I am stuck inside my own head thanks to the depression. Occasionally I have a good day where I kind of want to talk to others, even if by text. Nature of the bipolar beast.

Okay, that’s all she wrote. Feel free to leave feedback in the comments, let me know how excessive or loud noise impacts your life and mental health. I know I’m not alone, but occasionally, it’s nice to have it confirmed. And even if noise isn’t your trigger…feel free to chime in, too.

Love hearing from anyone who cares enough to comment. No, it’s not ego or being a ‘like button’ whore. I just like knowing my writing resonates. If it didn’t, during my black depressions, I’d probably kill this blog and delete it. It’s YOU guys who keep me writing when you let me know my writing has struck a chord.

Two sporks of fortitude for anyone who read this entire post. I do babble but it comes from a good place..Ok, nothing good about depression or anxiety but it comes from a genuine place. Being real and telling the truth about myself are all I have to offer.

That and wicked sarcasm.

Well, THAT’S Different

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on June 17, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

So I have six or so drafts I just couldn’t post because when I read them, they were…discombobulated and more rant-y than usual. Let’s hope this one makes some semblance of sense.

I woke up this morning and for the first time in MONTHS…I actually didn’t feel doomed. That is a good thing because I was about ready to give up on Cymbalta. To not feel like dying during one of my kid’s numerous lice outbreaks…Cymbalta and Wellbutrin must be doing something positive. Whether it sticks or not remains to be seen. For today…I am functional and not wishing for death. HUGE improvement because Tuesday, I was semi suicidal.

Today, R called from out of town and asked if I’d meet a customer who needed to pick up their TV. I agreed. And good thing I did. The guy gave me ten bucks for little more than unlocking the door and plugging the TV in to show it works. That almost never happens, the people in this town barely want to pay to fix their stuff, let alone give extra for someone coming in on a Saturday.

After that, Spook and I went to two different stores. The “I Want” monster makes shopping with her a nightmare. I get so sick of saying no and yet after yesterday, she has it coming.

Yesterday, she smashed the tablet screen AND lied by trying to say the cats knocked it down. From hanging out at the shop, I know the difference between a dropped screen crack and when someone steps or sits on it. Now she is grounded for a week and I told her she gets $40 @ $1 a trip per store until she makes up for the $40 tablet she so carelessly smashed and then her lying.

The plan yesterday was for her to stay at my mom’s but finding a couple of nits in her hair quashed that. (Teach me to let two different kids sleep over.) We did the mayo and shower cap thing (I ALWAYS treat myself even if I’m not itchy because, hey, who is gonna check for me? My sis checked her hair three days before and found nothing but her scalp eczema, and I don’t fault my sister, nits are tiny and when mixed in with flaky scalp..damn hard to spot. Unfortunately, this is about the 15th time my kid has had lice.) I was also supposed to go to the shop yesterday to earn some smoke and cat good money but that got quashed, as well. I spent hours vacuuming and washing bedding and clothes and drying it all. Then I had to spend hours combing her hair and mine. NOT fun. I know, ecologically, even roaches serve a purpose, but do tell, anyone who knows…what purpose does head lice solve????

Today we used a flat iron since high heat kills nits, then we did more combing. My dad hauled off my old air conditioners since R helped install the newest one last week. (Such a pain, taking them out and putting them back in every year.) Then we went to the shop, then to two different stores for food, then home. Or did I say that already? My memory is so fubar these days and everyone says it’s just age, but I think, to some extent, it’s the stupid meds.

In an example of “I just don’t get it”…R got laid off and they said it could be weeks before he goes back, but fortunately he got more work in at the shop…But he had six grand to go blow on a “new” used car. WTF? If you’re crying hard times and making everyone feel bad for you, maybe you should go for a car less than six grand? But apparently, I’m just mean. Still, considering how I struggle with lack of money, it’s galling.

More galling…My kid told me the other day I need to get a job so she can go play at daycare. Not the first time she’s said it, but coming off of shark week…It wounded me. Now my hormones are leveled out and it’s like, whatever. At the time, though…I just wanted her to go live anywhere but here because, damn it, when I am menstrual, I am a weak wussified pansy.

Truth be known, of course, I would never send my kid away. She is exhausting and a handful but she is mine and she’s already had one parent walk out. Just, sometimes, she is so hurtful and unapologetic, I don’t feel so blessed, I feel…hurt.

Last week I did something that had me feeling shitty for a couple of days. It involved an friend with benefits, my bedtime meds, and one too many Mangoritas but…My kid was at mom’s, he was driving, and…Damn it, I’m entitled to occasionally let loose, right? It was a bad idea, though, because I have little memory after a certain point. And I want to blame the booze but the fact is…Some morning, even when I haven’t been drinking, I wake up with holes in my memory. Mixing both is A Bad Idea. Bad me. But for months I’ve been good, I’ve been responsible mommy, she was at grandma’s, I just…went a little overboard. Or a lot.

Her friends are driving me nuts. Even when told she has lice, they come knocking. When told she is grounded, they come knocking. Too much drama. My kid tells me I need more friends. Nope. I can barely handle the one or two I have. A little socializing goes a long way with me.

So that’s my confession/guilt/panxiety/depression/not feeling doomed story. Though story makes it sound like fiction. It’s just fact. It’s what happened.

Judge me if you want. I’m alive and kicking and for this day, (so far) I’m not finding life pointless. I’ll take it as a win.

Write Off

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on June 7, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

I read my last post and decided…no more posts after shoveling my night time pills. I become incoherent. Or too sleepy to bother making a coherent point.

Today has been one of those write off days. I functioned well enough for two days but it left me overdrawn at the psychological bank so today I was in a daze, no energy, no motivation. At one point, after day time meds, I got so sleepy I was literally counting hours on the clock til I can put my kid to sleep and get sleep myself. Then came one of my headaches induced by too much bright light and I had to lay down and cover my eyes…Spook was on youtube, so I guess I relaxed too much because ten seconds later, she’s telling me to wake up, how dare I fall asleep on her.

That’s always been an issue for me, meds that make me sleepy during the day. Because I know she will go tell grandma and make it sound like a constant thing and it’s the furthest from the truth. Drama llama don’t care.

I got some caffeine in me and am less lethargic. She finally found some friends to entertain her so she’s good.

Nothing to post, really. I just like tracking the crashes following my high functioning periods. Well, I don’t like tracking them, I feel it is necessary, same as tracking stable periods or manic periods.

It’s disheartening to say the least that my functionality maxes out at a couple of days then I have to have write off days just to regain equilibrium. Makes me feel so weak. But the write offs enable me to fight another day rather than melt down or implode.

Eternally Yours

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , , on June 6, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

*This music is not for the weak hearted*

Yeah, my sister introduced me to Motionless In White and initially, I thought it was too obnoxious and ‘satan channeling”. Hit those choruses, though, and well, the story changes. It’s kind of beautiful for those who like metal in the Slipknot/Mudvayne category. Also…I had no better title for this inane post.

Last night, I broke and agreed to let Spook’s friend Riley sleep over. MISTAKE. It was hot in here and within an hour the kid was screeching, “WORST SLEEPOVER EVER!.” Of course the twonks kept moving room from room so I had to move the fans repeatedly, then I had to text R about how to hook up a dvd player to a smart tv so the girls could watch dvds.

The kids weren’t bad. Riley, however, is defiant and mouthy and my kid is a sheeple so even when I said NO, they kept hammering at me. And true to her nature, my child can never own anything, it’s always someone else’s fault.

The mom told me her kid had been fed. Yet that 15 hour sleepover ended up costing me close to fifteen bucks cos the kid was constantly hungry and playing the “mommy gives me this” card. Then close to ten thirty she starts crying that she misses her mom and I pondered taking her home but…Ten minutes later given carrots and ranch, she stopped crying so I figured it was okay. (She told her mom today I wouldn’t let her go home.) Those girls were awake until 1:30 a.m. I try not to be a nag like my father was any time I had company, but at what point does patience wear thin? Finally they quieted and I nodded off.

Only to be wakened at 4:30 a.m. by my own kid bawling that he misses her mom and she doesn’t like sleeping with her friend cos her friend hogs the cover. (Rich coming from the extended knee pain inducing blanket swine herself.) It took a half hour to get her calmed and asleep. BY which point I was wide awake with racing thoughts so I took a .25 mg of Xanax an after ninety minutes nodded off…

Only to have Spook purposely sneak up on me and wake me in a way that set off my panic and had my heart pounding out of my chest. She’s been told a zillion times not to do that to me and yet, she had a friend, her audience, so she didn;t give a damn if it took me an hour to get calmed down. Cruel.

I fixed them egg and cheese omelets. Neither of them thanked me for a thing the whole night, jut made it clear I am a welcome mat for them to wipe their feet on.

Spook got mad when I sent her friend home at 10 a.m. this morning but my presence had been requested at the shop. So away the friend went, to grandma’s Spook went, and I went to the shop. Where I tried to be upbeat and supportive cos the new job and layoff have him in a tailspin. He made it clear he couldn’t even afford to buy me smokes. I still went and stayed almost 5 hours even though I did little but research the net for his problem child tvs.

3 o ‘clock I bailed because I wore if I had to hear him say “I fucked up taking that job” one more time, I was gonna get stabby. Much as I’d love to bash him…He wanted more stability than the shop, that other job offered it, then yanked the rug from under him with a layoff. It sucks and it’s dirty corporate pool but it’s not his fault. He listened to what others, as well as the bosses at the company itself, and they never mentioned lay offs. So how that is his fault is beyond me.

Had about 90 minutes alone in my home sweat box (if anyone wants to send us old fans, we’re not too proud to beg) then mom called and said Spook missed me and wanted to come home. TRanslated: she missed her demon friends. I fetched her. My wench sister insisted on showing me her new “Pennywise” t-shirt cos she knows I don’t like clowns.

Since then it has been fairly quiet. Riley stopped in a few times and when I told my kid no to questions, that girl was whispering in her ear encouraging Spook to nag me some more..LOts of demon spawns here.

Now, thankfully, at this hour, the humidity is lower, the temp is down, and I no longer feel I am marinating in my own sweat. Perhaps I can get some good sleep tonight. Spook is still mad at me cos I wouldn’t let her stay at Riley’s tonight, but with little sleep, my kid is a powderkeg an I’d prefer the other girl’s parents not judge my kid a psycho who can’t behave.

I faked the upbeat thing today. I cringed every time I heard a siren. I flinched when on uneven roads that convinced me I had a flat. My brain often gives the silent treatment unless someone has been raped or murdered. Not the way I want it it be but…

It is what you need at that time…Go with God.

Personally, I am gonna go with Adelitas Way “MY derailment.”

Such a good band if dumbass sheeple would stop listening to Kesha and Miley Virus.

Do I sound judgey and shit?

Good. I favor talent over tabloid pres and the beautiful people.

Maybe that is why I have less friends than my rude redneck family. But then, JUstin Bieber has a gazillion fans and um…sound of his voice makes nails on a chalkboard sound good.

If I can find worth in Lady Gaga and Katy Perry and N’Sync, even a couple of songs by Back Street Boys….

Bieber’s talent eludes me or I would totally give him credit.

Limited Time Only

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , on June 4, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

With bipolar axis two (I can’t speak for bipolar axis one), functionality comes and goes. When the energy is *there* you use it for all its worth. When it *goes MIA*, it’s like someone swinging an axe and cutting off an extremity only to leave you to bleed out. Of course, others who are ignorant of the disorder will consider this dramatic and theatric but it’s the real deal.

Five days I was under the surface, functioning at minimal, seeing the sink of dishes, feeling shitty about it, but totally incapable of dealing with it.

Today, again, I woke before 6 a.m. cos it was light outside. Stayed in bed til 7:30 when the spawn rose. It was church day. Thankfully, they didn’t forget to pick her up like they did last Sunday. Once up and she was out, I washed rugs, then a load of clothes, I did three sinkloads of dishes (I have to do them that way, everything in small increments), I cleaned all the cat boxes then put in clean litter and hauled out the bad stuff. I went Aldi for some fresh veggies, went to the dollar store for anti stick spray (I think the proper term is anti perspirant deodorant but with my anxiety which induces sweat even on the coldest day…it’s not always effective. Yeah, gross, whatever.) I DID shower first before going out into the dish. Humidity’s so high, just the cat litter dust was clinging to my moist skin. Nasty.

Since Spook got home from church…PEACE, no friends. I appreciate the respite.

Then my dad calls to darken my doorstep because I dared to tell him I was eating leftover pizza and he demanded how did I afford carry out and I said, ten dollar any deal at pizza hut and it’s made a meal for two days now….That man may mean well, but he is a dick. Maybe even a cockweasel, the way he carries on about my stepmom working 16 hours a week (my mom worked 48 swing shift while raising us when he was on the road 6 days a week) and oh, my brother who is almost 22 and got a legit high school diploma even though he has the emotional IQ of a 9 year old…

Everyone thinks it’s ego or jealousy making me bitter. Nope. I just don’t like dickbags.

I even mowed the lawn today even if my allergies were in full force due to the thick humidity. I kicked ass. Forgot to take names. Because frankly, the meds make me forget my own name sometimes. Actually, I know my name but there are times I struggle for my or my kid’s birthdate and I blame the meds for delayed access to that particular memory file. It’s like I’m running Windows ME and it is indeed migraine edition.

Now…I am thinking a second shower because two fans in 85 degrees with 69% humidity means Spook and I probably have more cat hair sticking to us than to the cats. Two fans ain’t cutting it, the central air don’t work, and the window unit makes the circuit blow. (Landlord finds that, my broken oven, and my caving floors of zero priority.)

At least, even if limited time only, I got stuff accomplished before going down the rabbit hole again.

Tomorrow, I think I am gonna rant about how even the professionals can’t tell bipolar and borderline personality disorder apart. The THINK they can, but they often cannot. Since having that label tossed at me a few years back (FIRST time in 25 years, from a therapist younger than my diagnosis)…I’ve been soul searching, researching, looking long and hard at myself, for better or worse.

A show I watched today, fictional as it is, sparked something inside me that further convinces me Yoyo counselor was dead wrong and the shrink lumping bipolar patients in with a borderline support group is plain negligent.

Borderlines always feel like a victim.

Bipolar sometimes make us feel ten feet tall and bulletproof, thus not a victim.

Then again, I may be in tears and begging the flying spaghetti monster to smite me tomorrow.

As I said, functionality, limited time only. Same goes for lucidity.

Shake And Break

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , on June 3, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Tuesday through Friday were a total wash, write off days. The ones where you’re so far under the depressive abyss you function minimally even if you want more than anything to ‘snap out of it’. Didn’t happen, desire to do so be damned. Often, this is the price I pay for uber functional days like Monday. I kicked ass that day, accomplished a ton and then…four days of nothing but shambling like a zombie. Last night was telling as I allowed my kid to sleep with me. Always a mistake because even in a full size bed she sleeps with one knee out and no matter which way I turned, it was in my gut or my back. So I didn’t sleep well, was up a couple of times, and that bummed me out because I wanted to get up and go to a few yard sales, see if it picked up my spirits. Not getting decent sleep is a big intention killer for me. I don’t need a lot, just a few hours not popping up like a demented jack in the box.

To my chagrin, I woke when it was light outside…and it wasn’t even 6 a.m. So I snoozed until 7:30 then bladder and child dictated I get out of bed. I wasn’t feeling the ‘let’s get going’ vibe. It was all I could do to FORCE myself into a shower after 4 days and I only did that because my scalp was so itchy and my hair so nasty, I couldn’t handle it anymore. Then came the horror of choosing clothes and actually getting my kid out the door.

First yard sale…BAM. Found a Vellux blanket, perfect condition, one dollar. And that sent my mood into the stratosphere because I have been trying to find a Vellux for years, they are so soft and warm…And ONE DOLLAR? Hells, yea! So that lifted my mood and we went to several more but my good friend (and by that, I mean, mortal enemy) anxiety peeked in and screamed BOO. All the roadwork around town had me convinced I had a flat tire and panxiety started chewing on me because I can’t change a flat and I’m not sure I even have a spare and…and…and… Ya know, anxiety making me its bitch, the usual.

Kept going, though. Even stopped by the shop to see R. The new job laid him off after 5 weeks of work, he is livid because the shop can’t bring in enough money to feed my cats some months, he needs a ‘real job’. I feel for him, I really do. For all of my bitching and moaning, I realize…he was putting me in a situation that stressed me out with all the ‘find this part and find that part’. He’s kind of a twonk at times, but most of my ranting…is on me. Because I can’t handle being put under pressure and having expectations put on me. I have the legit condition to explain it, too, it’s not selective anxiety, but nonetheless…I own it. And I do feel empathy for him. Here he thought he has a great new job, perhaps paying less than he wants, but he was working his ass off for them and one day they say, layoffs are coming, the next, the boss says no, we have more work for you, then that guy gets sick and the next guy waits until end of shift Friday to tell him he’s laid off for a week or two…Guess even the so called beautiful people get shanked on occasion.

So…we finished yard sales, then we went to get household supplies, came home, and now the spawn is running with her posse. I had to take her bike away from her. She wasn’t focusing yesterday and ran into a car bumper and fell into some grass. Grateful she wasn’t hurt but she should never ever have been close to a car on her bicycle and she knows that. If she won’t listen to me and obey the bicycle rules presented to her…I can’t trust her not to hurt herself. And having encountered bicycling children myself who pay no attention and ride right toward my moving car…I can’t fathom the guilt of a driver who hit a kid on a bike even if it was the kid’s fault. Spook doesn’t seem to care as long as she gets to play. I’d like to call her resilient but she just has no sense of conscience.

Though at the store I spent fifty bucks (food, cat supplies, cleaning stuff) and the cashier said something about “your mom had to work three hours to spend fifteen minutes at the store.” And of course, the instant shame of being on disability comes, but I also know I help at the shop so it’s not like I’m sitting home on X Box and smoking weed. Might as well be. My kid basically yelled, “My mom doesn’t work, she doesn’t have a job.” I was livid, especially because I’ve heard this manager/cashier go off about people on disability/food stamps/even told me once I was too lenient on my kid. Well, I wasn’t today, no meant no, and for that…my kid made me feel half an inch tall, like everything is handed to me and I pay nothing, it costs me nothing.

I told her to get in the car and said not a word for ten minutes. To her credit, she didn’t say a word until I told her she could speak. Maybe it’s more my own shame for not working than it was a 7 year old’s big mouth but she needs to learn not to mouth, to show some respect, and not every aspect of our lives have to be discussed with random people in public.

Anyway…that’s been my day so far. The joy of yard sales replaced with the panxiety of a brain telling me the car has a flat. The public humiliation at the hands of my own child.

I’m not down the rabbit hole, though. Only been 3 days on Cymbalta but today I took it first thing rather than take all meds at once. I’ve moved the lithium to bedtime in case it makes me sleepy and I always eat supper so I shouldn’t get nausea. The Wellbutrin and Lamictal I can work in around that.

But hey, I got up, got out, and accomplished stuff. It’s an improvement after four days of inertia and wanting to cease to exist. Then again, even a toothache is better than that.