Archive for disability

Otiose Ramblings From A Life Anhedoniac

Posted in anxiety, bipolar disorder, depression with tags , , , , , , on July 22, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

anhedoniac-one who does not receive pleasure from normally enjoyed things

My daughter was horrified when she looked over my shoulder and saw ‘word of the day’ in my email inbox. She asked why anyone would want to have that. As if learning new words is as horrific as a man wielding a chainsaw while demanding you eat brussel sprouts. Sadly. this is an attitude I have faced my whole life. Any attempt to better myself outside a formal classroom setting is viewed with distaste, horror, and of course, the inevitable accusation that I use big words to make those around me feel dumb. I learn new words because it interests me, aids in making my writing less repetetive, and learning isn’t contagious so they can piss off.

I was watching the show “Instinct” and the lead male character informed his female cop partner that she was a ‘music anhedoniac’ because music did not light up the pleasure centers in her brain therefore she did not receive pleasure from it.

That was when it hit me that I have become a life anhendoniac. Most likely the depression but also the sheer monotany of trying my best and always coming up short. Things that should make me feel good, should light up my brain’s pleasaure centers simply does not. It all feels like a big chore, a draining task that is joyless and misery inducing. Am I the walking posterchild for depression or what?

I woke at 1 a.m. For no good reason. I was still awake at 5:30 despite throwing Xanax, melatonin, Benadryl at it. My Brain would not slow down and shut up. I was screaming into my pillow at one point. Night after night this happens and by the time the alarm goes off, I feel like a walking dead girl. I stressed out all that time knowing I needed to recharge so I would have the energy to get my daughter to day camp…only she informed me her “Boyfriend” isn’t there on Mondays so she didn’t want to go today. Seriously? Last night she was set to go. GAH! Not that I got to sleep in even a little between her yakking and my cat bathing my face incessantly.

I was gonna mow the lawn today. I don’t have the energy and it’s still so wet from early morning rain, it’d just clog the damn mower. Oh, and we had that windstorm last week so before mowing, we have to gather up all the twigs and branches…And the yard is half a football field so doing it with a push mower by myself is exhausting. Last year I’d started doing it simply because my dad’s ‘help’ stressed me out so much. This year I am so overwhelmed and worn down, I accept the help even though it truly isn’t worth the mental price. I wish I had the money to pay someone else to do it but the standard for a yard this size is $50. I ain’t got that kind of money. Besides, my neighbor across the street hasn’t mowed either, so if they say something to me, they damn sure best be on her case, too.

I saw the weirdest commercial on TV plus. It had this GWAR looking dude warbling heavy metal satan channeling lyrics about the evils of ecigarettes. And I was offended and amused at the same time. (If you don’t know who GWAR is, Google it, they are scary hilarious.) So now cigarettes and ecigs and vaping are all evil, but almost every state is adding some legal use of pot on the books. I’ve never really considered weed a hardcore drug, but I have looked down on stoners because seeing them stoned and minus many iQ points depressed me. Now everyone down to pre school teachers are entitled to light a doobie, get wacky, and it’s all good, long as you don’t smoke cigarettes or use an vape.


I can’t wait til 20 years from now when they discover that pot causes penile cancer or some shit. The self righteous have really crossed some lines.

I am all for occasional use if it’s your thing. I am definitely all for it for people with illnesses that truly are helped by it.

But GWAR-ing me as if a heavy metal backtrack is gonna make me abstain from tobacco or nicotine is HYSTERICAL.

All this pot legalization also opens my already confused mind to questions like, “does this mean all the people charged with minor pot possession charges get their records wiped?” “What if everyone is playing bumper cars cos they are stoned?” “What if an employer bans the use yet the law says it is legal>” Total fucking quagmires. (Oh, dear, there goes that word of the day knowledge, how dare I!) Though my very old chatroom nickname was Kwee Quagmire. Partially after Scully’s dog from X Files and partly because mental illness is the definition of a quagmire.

I have washed dishes, refilled ice cube trays and water dispensers, washed aload of clothes, taken out trash. Now I feel drained. I still need to hang dry the entire load of laundry. Broken dryers suck. But I don’t dare spend the money to fix it because every two weeks I am just waiting for the child support to not be there because the donor just disposes of girlfriends and jobs like Kleenex. And sometimes, I swear he does it just to fuck with me and hope I have some sort of psychotic break. Of course, that would be giving him too much credit. For all his “I have a 187′ IQ bullshit, I seriously doubt he’d have the brain power necessary to play any real mind games. Then again, I have underestimated his penchant to be cruel and immature and maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss his potential to play mind fuck games. Because in his head, it’s all about me getting his money, he doesn’t even think about his child. To say he has woman issues is underfuckingstatement of the year. I don’t think it’s mathmatically possible that every woman he has been involved with/related to has been some sort of soul sucking mentally abusive monster. The odds are just too astronimical.

My kid starts evening church camp this week. 6-8 p.m. My brother is going to take her. I still don’t understand why they’re okay with a 24 year old man hanging out with a bunch of kids. Kind of creepy pervy. I guess their thinking is he’s willing to help and mentally he’s about their age anyway.

The Focus Factor is NOT working, is it? I am all over the place here.

Well, you guys choose to read this, you get to walk away, so winner winner chicken dinner.

Except my chicken has salmonella.

Ray of fucking sunshine, ain’t I?



Posted in anxiety, depression, disability with tags , , , , , , , on July 7, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

One of kittens got under my car today and died. I didn’t know he was under there, I usually honk to spook them away. Today I didn’t because I swore I did a headcount and they were all on the step. I buried Tyketto and have spent an hour crying and grieving. I am just…shattered. It was an accident but this does not assauge my guilt. I feel like the most vile person on the planet right now and the day is young.

All I need is my dad calling me over and over and bitching at me. And they’re supposed to mow my lawn which means I mow, stepmonster sits on a rider, and they both scream at me how I am doing it wrong and it doesn’t look pretty. They mow their neighbor’s yard and never yell at her or guilt her.

My hatred for them grows by the day. My dream is to move Spook far away from this toxicity called my family. My mom babies her, my dad treats her like she’s a grown up and shouldn’t have tantrums and should be mowing lawns.

This day sucks. I just want to feel nothing and silently grieve for my cat and flog myself with guilt.

And I know what my dad will say. “No use crying, it’s done and you have too many cats anyway.” Yes, he has said that many times when we’ve lost a cat.

He’s a monster. And his woman is the bride of the fucking monster, minus the legal status.

Just let me grieve.

But so I can’t be accused of not trying, I did fill out an application on line for sandwich artist. Those personality tests are a bitch because I can’t say people don’t get offended by the things I say because they do. But it’s not like I’d do it in a paid work position, ffs. If I want to call my dad a fucking asshole, well, that’s our family dynamic.I should lie, I know. Personality tests are bullshit anyway. If they wanted to truly know you, they’d give you situations and ask you to write a paragraph explaining how you would handle it within the company rules and respect and satisfaction for the customer.

Okay, the tears are coming again. I don’t want to drip on the laptop.

Hive Mind

Posted in anxiety, depression, working with disabilities with tags , , , , , , on July 7, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

It’s nearing 6 a.m. I have been up since 3:20. The whole thing with my dad on my ass about working at fast food hell has me breaking out in hives. I am 46 years old and my dad can still nag me to hives and keep me from sleeping. Pathetic. But he calls FOUR times a day to rag on me and even when I say fuck off, he keeps doing it, after he screams at me that I am lazy and useless.I have tried being mature and civilized and pointing out, he doesn’t pay any of my bills and I am not asking for anything, so WHY is it any of his business? And god knows I can’t dare mention the fact that I am disabled, that starts him on another tear about deadbeats on the dole.

Any ideas on how to handle this impossible cretin of a man?

Any thoughts on how to earn money from home on the computer?

I don’t care if it’s $12 a week for emailing spam, just anything to get him off my fucking back. It would really frost his balls if I could find something to do on line, he is so hell bent on how my failure to get employment is because I insist on applying on line and won’t go talk to the people. And blah blah blah, that’s not how they do it at his job which he’s had 42 years blah blah blah. I just want to earn some money or hell, even gift cards to buy household and pet supplies. ANYTHING to get him off my back. I am not lazy, I am disabled. If anyone would ever bother to work with me and around my limitations, they might find I am a hard worker, I want to work, but yeah, I have some stuff going on that makes conventional jobs near impossible for me.

Anyone want to help me spite a bigoted racist redneck who has one set of rules for himself, his woman, and their son and another set for his daughters? Anyone want to help me battle misogyny?

Probably not but I am going to keep trying.

Out there somewhere is a way for me to earn a living without it sending me to the Rubber Ramada. I just gotta find it.

It’s light out now. I will never get back to sleep. It’s gonna make for a long day. I am thinking about unplugging the house phone and calling it a whoospie, forgot to plug it back in after running the hell machine vaccuum. It’s happened before, legit. Then he’d just call my cell and waste my minutes on it, but thankfully, I keep the volume low to avoid panic attacks so it’s easily not heard. Then he will come to my door, start barking orders about mowing my lawn properly, and make my life a living hell as he seems to do 7 days a week since we moved to Armpit.

If it wasn’t for him and his crew, I might adapt to this place.

Advice on how to handle the situation would be appreciated. Surely someone knows how to deal with a personality like his. I’ve never figured it out because he simply can’t see any side but his own and he is immovable on certain topics.

Thoughts, anyone? Before I need to drag around and IV pole with a Benadryl drip to control my itchy hives.


Posted in disability, employment, work from home with tags , , on July 6, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

My dad is on my ass like a diaper again about working. I don’t know why he thinks it is his business, I am not asking him for anything. I am not stable enough to risk my disability by working in an environment that time after time has reduced me to a nervous breakdown. I have told him to mind his own damn business, he lets it go for a day after screaming bloody murder at me, then starts in again.

The village lot lizard and meth whore got hired at fast food hell so now he thinks I MUST go work there. Just eating there with all the noise about does me in. He won’t listen, he doesn’t care. It’s his way or he chews my ass into submission.

If anyone knows of anything I can do from home via computer and internet, God knows, I am a hard worker, but I have limitations. I know I have been singing this same old tune for months and most home gigs are scams, but I really need some ideas here to get him off my back. I can’t risk our insurance coverage by earning too much, I can’t risk my disability by going to work and they decide I am cured when clearly, I am a bit of a trainwreck after the Abilify side effect debacle. Not to mention I can barely drive in town since they cut my Xanax.

If anyone reads this and has any ideas-I don’t even care if it’s balloon porn at this point- speak up. This man is edging me toward self harm because he calls FOUR times a day every day to chew on this topic. If you can’t help me with the job aspect, can you come kick his redneck ass? JOKE.

I really need some ideas, guys.

Hold the presses,I have something positive to say!!!!!

Posted in anxiety with tags , , , , , on June 14, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I am too based in science and evolution to truly embrace the notion that prayer worked but…I did pray, out of terror, and today…We got half of the back support the donor owes. BIG sigh of relief. We’re not wealthy but we aren’t gonna be homeless any time soon, either, and we get our internet back.

To each and every person who helped us during the last year of suckage, a heartfelt thank you. To everyone who had a kind supportive word, thank you, from the deepest recesses of our hearts. We are truly grateful to have such amazing friends, even if we’ve never met any of you irl. You’re real to us.

Now I guess his sullen demeanor this morning makes sense. That was his tax refund.

I don’t want to gloat but Spook and I struggled and sometimes ate nothing but ramen and wore clothes with holes because we couldn’t afford better without that support. So I am going to take a ‘relief lap’ of gloating behavior.

Again…thank you everyone who helped and supported us in any and every way. You’re the best and we love you all.

Later I will return to my regularly scheduled ranting about the stuff in my life that sucks.

For now…I just feel very relieved, and very happy, that before summer’s end, my kid will be getting her dream of a vacation with mom even if we have to downgrade to a day trip to the waterpark as opposed to an overnight trip to Six Flags. She will get to have a good memory with her mom and return to school to tell everyone she didn’t just sit home all summer.

I may start believing in God and Santa Claus.

Why not, I already ponder the existence of pegacorns.

I feel very lucky today. Rich in friendship and no longer cash broke. I would not have made it without you guys, so…thank you a million times over. At least when I am getting no support from my blood family, I know I have a great family on wordpress who are there for me even at my worst. I will never forget any of your kindnesses.

Gratitude moment over. I am in rant withdrawal. 😉

Poverty Shaming

Posted in anxiety, depression, disability with tags , , , , , , on June 7, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I think it’s time for me to tackle this issue. And if you think it’s not an issues, well, you must live in wealthy Pegacorn head up your ass world. The current social media culture has turned shaming into a national past time. “Slut shaming”, “Body Shaming”, “Fat shaming”, “Lunch shaming”, ‘ parent shaming’. Now it’s poverty shaming, where people look down on you for being broke even though you are not some standard issue hobo living out of a boxcar. No matter what your situation, you are a bum and you are lazy.

Personally, even though by every standard state and federal, my income puts us below poverty level…I’ve never much thought about poverty in reference to how me and Spook live. Cash poor, hell yeah. But we have a (rental) home with indoor plumbing. We own a fridge and microwave and stove and have an AC unit in the window and have food. We have a car that runs. We have tablets, laptops, computer towers, three flat panel TVs (all bought used, btw). Dear God, just listing what we do have makes me feel like, damn, how dare you complain when others don’t even have that much. I am just trying to make the point that living below poverty level doesn’t equal homelessness or laziness or being ‘a bum’. And ‘disability shaming’ is pretty lame, too, and it is a thing. My own family does it. Asking for help doesn’t make you ungratefil or lazy or evil. Maybe it makes you annoying but how about we do a case study for myth busting purposes?

I have $835 a month coming in.
My bills come to $783 a month.
I live in the sticks so I have to have gas to get the car to town just to look for work. I have to feed and litter my cats because I can’t find homes for them and they are NOT going to the kill shelter and the no kill has no space. We don’t have cable. I drive a $475 car that is 18 years old and has over 225,000 miles on it.

When we got child support, our income was increased by $380 a month. He hasn’t paid a cent since last September so his actions have put us behind to the tune of seven grand, at least. The system is not interested in penalizing him in the least. He will be charged the back support, of course, but it will be in $7 installments per week, so there is no ‘payday’ coming our way ever.

So losing that income hurt and I tried to juggle and I look for work and I go on interviews and I lick my rejection wounds day after day…I do away with internet and home phone and stick to my prepaid tracfone with its monthly 2 gig of data. We don’t go anywhere if we don’t have errands to run. The cats eat the cheapest gruel possible, the cheapest litter I can find. We use single ply toilet paper, dollar shampoo, and even dollar laundry soap. I cannot possibly cut any more ‘fat’ off the budget.

How did we get here where outgoing exceeds incoming?

Our old landlord fucked us over by selling the place where we’d lived 9 years out from under us. Buy in or get out. Well, bad credit and common sense kept me from that ‘deal’ and thank god cos the people who stayed ended up owing three times their old amount per month. I purposely kept us there because I could swing the rent, power, internet, and still have gas and food and cat supplies. Because water and trash were included with the lesser rent amount than we pay here, giving me a little excess to wiggle with. We had two weeks to get out of there, which meant carrying over an existing power bill, which jacks up my bill every month for that old deferred balance. I had to cover a security deposit and first monnth on this place. Hundred dollar deposit for water service which never runs under $67 a month. Gas is up to @2.99 a gallon and a trip to town ends up being about 28 miles round trip so about $4 a trip. Now my kid wants to go to day camp and I said ok, because I was expecting a low ball power bill. Instead I got kicked in the face with what the amount due actually was. But I paid it even though I am now broke for the next 3 weeks. No gas money beyond one week but I can’t bring myself to break her heart and cancel the camp all together.

So let’s review. Landlord screwed us over so we were forced to move in a brief time and had to take whatever house we could get in Armpit to avoid homelessness. Donor up and quit paying support putting us thousands behind in income. I have been looking for work since October and have had so many rejections, I’d probably self harm if that were my default. Because feeling like a loser every single day doesn’t do much to improve my mental health.

Then I get hit with disability shaming and poverty shaming. Oh, unemployment shaming, too.

I wonder if the people guilty of this sort of thing are aware they do it. If they became aware, would it change their nastiness? It is so easy to judge others when you don’t walk in their shoes and their experience is not yours. I personally can’t relate to wealthy people, they are like aliens to me and make me uneasy. So I guess it’s fair that people with jobs and excess income feel uncomfortable around ‘impoverished’ people.

Thing is…I don’t consider us impoverished. Just cash poor and in need of some very good luck and a break or two. Now with my pessimism and depression, if I can see things objectively, why can’t others at least try viewing it through my eyes? I’m not saying we own nothing. I am not saying we are starving. I am not saying BUY US FANCY STUFF COS WE ARE SAD THAT WE DON’T HAVE ANY SHINY PRETTY THINGS. But the fundraising shaming ends now. People do it all the time. Politicians do it every single damn day and pull in thousands…for what? A chance to run at office? A chance to tell people lies to get in then not keep any promises? People believe in that more than they believe in a single mom trying to do right by her kid.

Would it help if I donated half of all donations to the local no kill animal shelter? Do an ice bucket challenge? Dress up like a clown and twerk in a video? Because I’m all out of dignity here. My dignity is not as important as my daughter’s well being. So if you don’t like fundraisers and can’t simply ignore it and enjoy my writing anyway…Why are you here except to be toxic? Yes, spam comments, I am talking about YOU. I know you have to take spam as a joke but sometimes…it still irks me.

In closing…be grateful for what you have and that you are in a better place than us. Just don’t judge us because we would still be at our old place, rickety as it was, making ends meet without help, if two unscrupulous men had not forced their evil on us and left us in the lurch. We may be cash broke but we are grateful for every little ‘luxury’ we have. That’s a hell of a lot more than most wealthy people can say about themselves. They take everything for granted.

We take nothing for granted.

If you won’t do it for her, do it for this pic of me looking like a demon from Supernatural. (Hate most of my pics but loooove this one, I look so evil.)

And if you’re guilty of shaming people for whatever reason…just stop doing that, please. You don’t know til you’ve walked in these worn out old shoes.

Cold Rain and Brain Drain

Posted in depression with tags , , , , , on May 21, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Here it is, 3:27 a.m. and I’m awake, have been for an hour now. The clock is ticking. Trains are roaring by. The icy rain is pounding against the metal air conditioner unit in the window. It’s 48 degrees and a dampness in the air has me wanting to do nothing more than curl up under the covers and sleep. But I don’t dare take more melatonin because I have to be up by 8 to call the school and tell them Spook will be late. Then I have to get us both ready and I am NOT getting into a bath when the house is this damn cold. My hair is gross so I thought I could just wash it in the sink but again, it’s so cold, I feel it in my bones and in my veins, coursing through me head to toe as if transfused with ice water. The pressure is on. My kid’s doc appt is 9:45 but we have to be there by 9:30. Then I have that job interview scheduled for 11 a.m. so I need a bunch of stuff to go off without a hitch so I can get her back to school and make my interview on time. I also have to make sure I look presentable but when it’s cold like this and all my warm clothes are packed away (it was 90 last week, I thought we finally had hit spring) I don’t want to leave my warm jammies. I don’t care if I get the job.

Because this is exhaustion and depression and it will pass by Thursday once the temps rise back up but right now, it may as well be dead of winter. My mental states are that fragile when connected to the weather. I fight it but it doesn’t do a bit of good. And this job has all sorts of training and involves going to public places which of course, with my fear of public places and people, probably would be worse for my mental health. Not to mention 14 other candidates being interviewed and they are still running the help wanted ads and I’ve that old charge to bite me on the ass and it’s religiously affiliated and I don’t exactly scream Christian in my darkened identity…

If I could have just slept through the night, woke with the alarm, it might have been different.

But since I woke up in the middle of the night, the weather is awful, and I am in a time crunch plus racking up mileage and using gas in the car going 80 miles in one day…It’s overwhelming me. When overwhelmed my instinct is to retreat, hide, avoid. I am fighting that urge because even if I don’t have a shot at the job, every interview is practice and gives me a chance to see where I excelled and where I need work in my interviewee skills…

Mainly, I am ready to get it all over with so I can come home and maybe get an hour nap in before Spook gets back from school. Not that I can sleep during daylight, at least not since the season changed.

I think it’s Fort Blankie time, I am freezing. Is it so wrong to want some bloody warmth when it aids so drastically in my mental state being more positive? Turning on the furnace would not help, plus the pilot light is out and I am currently back in my ‘terror of the basement’ mindset. I’m also hormonal and hope I don’t start bawling in public for no reason or worse, get hypo manic aggro.

I am so sick of how many suns, moons, and stars that have to align for me to be in a good mental state and be high functioning. And I don’t think I can take another cold fall and winter here, it;s killing me, mentally at least. But I continue to be trapped like an inmate, my freedom hinging not on a parole board but on the financial means to flee.