Archive for generalized anxiety disorder

Phoning It In With No Dial Tone

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , on December 16, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I celebrated Friday The 13th pretty much alone on wordpress. Ignore the neverending discombobulated rant and at least check out the funny Jason Vorhees pics. Like I expect anyone to follow when I spout off and purge that way.

Saturday sucked. I had to have my kid in town by 10 for a Christmas thing. I woke up at 8. Went back to sleep til 8:30. Still couldn’t keep my eyes open or get warm so I started setting the timer on my phone in 15 minute increments. Finally got my ass in gear and got her into town, barely remembering to brush my hair and wear deodorant, let alone actually carry through with basic hygiene. I think at least my shirt was clean. In public, all the bright lights and merry, money spending holiday spirited normals…was horrifying. Constant reminder of everything I can’t provide for my child. Or even $5 gifts for my family members. They may be pains in the ass but I still feel shitty every damn year showing up without so much as a plate of cookies for people. But I seriously can’t bake, and they all have so many health issues thus varying diets, I couldn’t cook up anything that’d pass muster.

There seems to be this misconception that I am somehow against giving. Some of my happiest times were in the past when things were better financially and I just loved buying gifts for others and seeing their surprise and joy. Even when it was just me spending $20 on dollar craft items and whipping up some frou frou candle and flower decoration, at least I felt like I was giving something. Of course, back then was before our family get togethers ceased to simply be family and started to include my sister and her husband’s friends and family and they all have 3 or 4 kids each, then their kids have a baby or two, and before we even knew it…There’s 8 actual family members but 15 others not related to us. And god forgive me if this sounds ungrateful, but over and over year after year I tell them, please don’t buy for us, we can’t reciprocate…but they buy anyway and about two weeks later…it comes wafting back to me that they were hurt I didn’t get them and their kids something. WTF?

So, no, Christmas does not bring me joy in any way, shape or form. I like that my kid has a good time but beyond that…It’s not just the family, it’s not just a good meal and a meager gift exchange and spending time together. It’s a fucking zoo with my mom and sister trying to prove they love everyone more by spending more. Even if it means they have no food for two weeks. 20 fucking years it has been this way. Liked it better when our parents were still together and it was just the four of us even if every year resulted in mom spending too much and dad screaming at her for a week. It was FAMILY. All these other people…nothing against them, they just aren’t really anything to me. They don’t call, they don’t text me, they don’t visit, they don’t mail me a birthday card…They’re not my family or my friends and yet…there they are every holiday, putting me in the shitty position of being able to afford nothing then griping they bought for us and we didn’t reciprocate. AM I SPEAKING FUCKING SWAHILI?

The closer it gets to Christmas, the more I start to spaz out. And I am spazzing a little extra cos we got hit with a big snow storm and icy roads and two of my kid’s gifts haven’t arrived yet so now I am worried they won’t arrive in time and that is not gonna look pretty with 4 gifts under the tree. I know everyone else will lavish her with garbage that she will destroy in less than 48 hours but honestly, just ONCE, I’d like to be able to build her a little winter wonderland to wake up to Christmas morning with dozens of gifties…And I could for once be the ‘best santa’ instead of it being my mom and sister. They already trumped me on all the expensive birthday parties. I don’t get Easter or Christmas or anything. They even outdo me on Valentine’s Day. So ya know maybe even if were flush with cash, I still wouldn’t bother going to the extremes they do. Because I am not trying to buy my kid’s love or prove anything. I am here 360 other days of the year for her, enduring the not fun stuff, so let them have their holidays and I will stand in the shadows as usual. All that ends up mattering is that Spook and I spend our entire Christmas day together without interference from others and her happiness-even if not ‘bought’ by me-makes me feel content. And it being over makes me feel pretty damn happy, if happy means relieved for another 363 days.

Honestly, she was happy as a kid on Christmas morning today when she found out school was canceled. Guess the roads are REALLY bad cos these fuckers don’t cancel school for ice covered roads in single digit temps. Might lose a few days of summer golfing and such. Oh and it’s a sports obsessed school so no school could impact their sports winnings and…Whatever. I made sure we were stocked on what was needed, I got out the snow shovel, the ice melt, and made a cozy place in the shed for any outdoor cats who wandered over for food and shelter.

Ya know how sometimes you just have these ‘left field’ thoughts that are both relevant and silly? It hit me yesterday that I own six pairs of boots. Two pairs I can’t wear cos the zippers are busted and the only shoe repair place around-does not do zippers. Three pairs are ankle length. The only mid length boots are $12 faux suede dollar store things I bought for fashion over function. WHY has it never occurred to me to buy a pair of functional winter boots for when I do need to get out there and shovel and stuff? LOL. Am I so vapid that my only thought when buying shoes is that they be ‘cute’? (And by my standards, everyone else seems to think my thick soled straps and skulls and buckles are ‘combat boots’.) THEN I realize…all those boots are at least 8 years old cos I almost never buy myself shoes anymore unless someone gives me a gift card or I am lucky enough to find my size second hand. Maybe 8 years back I was so vapid I didn’t consider function, just fashion. I’m just not becoming aware of it. But the logic is sound. I put my kid before myself and make sure she has weather appropriate gear. If that means I have to do without…so be it. Though I sure wish I knew someone who could fix the two pairs with busted zippers, those are nice boots.

Spook had fun at the birthday party Saturday. I got us home after dark without crashing into anything. She went to church for the first time in 2 months yesterday. I told my dad if he’d just back off of her, she’d come around. She’s at an age where the more I nag her, the more she rebels. So…I just try to leave her be while tossing out some ‘mild’ encouragement not to completely isolate herself the way I do. I’ve always been a loner, and I am really comfortable on my own. She’s a social being so I do not my ‘example’ turning her into a hermit like me. And hermit is the word others use. I get out, when I want or need to. Just so happens that my need for social interaction isn’t as high as others’.

I knew last night at 9 p.m. school was canceled. That should have made me sleep like a log, knowing I didn’t have to get up at the crack of ass. Instead, I woke up a dozen times, every two hours, like clockwork. I finally gave up at 6:45 and got up. My dad has already called twice and Spook is exasperated and I told her…this is my life. When the man isn’t working, he is so bored he will call me 4,5,6 times a day and talk about…nothing really.

I really have been phoning it in with no dial tone. I haven’t bathed since last Monday. The dishes are piled up. I have wet laundry to hang dry. And as mortified as I am when I finally get out in public and realize how unkempt I truly am…It does not do a damn thing to get me motivated. And it’s disheartening as fuck. I go to see the shrink at the end of the month and having to tell him that there’s been no real improvement on the current meds…I feel like I’ve failed again. But the seasonal depression every year just seems to get worse and I get sunlight, I try to get out, keep doing stuff. I don’t just curl up in bed and bemoan my fate. And this midwest weather (which is GOT ro be proof of climate change) is dragging me down, big time. Days of cold and gloom. One sunny day but it’s in the teens. Four rainy days. A snowy day. Clear and 60 ine day. Back down to single digits the following week and all gloom and rain. People who think seasonal affective disorder (S.A.D) is just ‘the winter blues’ are morons. This shit is debilitating.

And I was faced yesterday with just how disabling the anxiety and panic are at times, too. I am still binge watching The Walking Dead and the season 5 premiere had me mid panic attack with the suspense and ‘assholes are winning’ theme. It also gave me horrid flashbacks to Motel Hell and their people jerky. (My mom really should not have let an 8 year old watch that movie.) But I was squirming and on the edge of my seat and the terror I was feeling-rapid heartbeat, trembling, sweating, churning stomach-it was all right there, just watching a show. And in the middle of this freak out is the mixed “I WANT to know what happens next!” mixed with “Oh, god, turn it off, it’s too much, I can’t look!”

I didn’t used to be wired this way, not exactly. After the Nardil interaction of 2000 that nearly killed me and left me with an omelet for a brain…I had to give up a lot of horror movies, soap operas, social situations- because whatever wiring was impacted by the interaction, it resulted in my generalized anxiety disorder and panic disorder morphing into something so catastrophic I become physically ill from the ‘suspense’. Not the fear necessarily. And ya know, I’ve not once regretted giving up soap operas, that was always my mom’s thing and I just basically grew up with Days of Our Lives as a soundtrack. (Both my first and middle names came from soap operas, thanks to my mom and grandma.) But ya know by the 26th year of being left on Friday with some shit like ‘is Stefano going finally kill Marlena this week?’…Good riddance. It was too much stress and idiotic stress, at that. Now I miss my horror and gore movies, but shit like Saw and Hostel and Chainsaw Massacre? I can’t do sadistic material anymore, it makes me too uncomfortable and panicked. Mindless machete slashing at sex craved teenagers, okay, I can roll with that. But torturing people for psychological jollies? PASS.

And fuck me, I wrote another long post no one will have the patience to read. Seems the harder I try to sit down and write a short post, the more I fail and the longer I ramble. I wish I could be like normal people with coherent thoughts who can sum up three days of their life in maybe two paragraphs and get their point across better than I can with these novel length rants. I just don’t know how to do that.

On a final note since I brought up psychological sadism…I think my kid is on the path to being one. I know she’s only 10, kids are cruel, kids don’t get it, plenty of time for her to grow out of it, you need to take a chill pill for your persecution complex, momzilla…

But three times in 2 days-in public, to others, Spook has said, “You’re never going to get a man, mom, they all leave you every time.”

Technically, I left the first spouse mouse cos of his violent drug induced actions.

But yeah, she is not wrong, pretty much every guy I’ve ever had more than a passing fling with has indeed left me. By lying and fleeing, by just fleeing, by phone call and packing up and sneaking out…

Now I could curl up in a boo hoo ball and say they were all useless jerks who didn’t deserve me anyway.

But part of the whole life process is growing as a person and learning from your mistakes and self-destructive patterns of behavior.

Many of the failures were, in part, due to my constant depressive sadness and being so panicked I couldn’t really leave the house or be fun. Or my emotions were so extreme I was dragging another down with me. I will own that.

Looking back, however, I also came to realize that in EVERY relationship…when I grew bored with or sick of the person, I couldn’t wait for them to go to work or just go out and get away from me. I treasured my alone time more than I valued being with them. Does not matter if it’s wrong or right, it’s true. So maybe they did leave me but on some level, perhaps I was so focused on my precious me time and love of being a loner that I ‘ran’ them off accidentally on purpose. Not so I could claim to be some victim everyone leaves but because the ugly truth is…I lose my identity in relationships. I go all in at first, and then when the newness wears off and it becomes monotany and who didn’t take out trash or why didn’t you do dishes while I was at work…BORED. Go away. Done playing house now, thankyouandfuckyouverymuch.

That is all on me.

Though no matter how much wrong I did for the donor to leave, he left every woman and child in his life, so that was more his pattern than mine. We had a child together, I was in it for real no matter how unhappy I was. Spook having a dad meant more to me than my ego or desire to just be left alone and not rot in domestic hell while the man treats me like a servant. He snuck his stuff out, lied to my face and said we’d work it out, and broke up with me in a 20 second phone call then vanished from our lives. I cannot and will not own that, it was what he did to us, not a choice made mutually. And while I do wish Spook had her dad, I think I was lucky to get hit by that bullet and still survive. A 48 year old man who has to end a relationship by phone and sneaking his stuff out while lying to my face…

I may be satan but I do deserve better than that.

And all ego aside, I still live by the Marilyn Monroe quote, “If you can’t handle me at my worst, you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best.”

What it all boils down to, though, isn’t about me at all.

It is about my daughter learning to be so bluntly cruel and thinking it’s normal.

It’s about my daughter thinking no relationship can work simply because none of mine have worked.

It’s about my issues damaging her. Like growing up with an indifferent absentee father isn’t enough. Now I have to worry that my failed relationships and choice to be alone and focus on raising her is teaching her….that all relationships will fail for her, as well.

That makes me very angry and very sad.

Because I haven’t given up in spite of all the failures and how hopeless and pointless it seems at times. I still have hope and love in my heart.

That my kid could be absent of that hope at the age of ten based on what she has seen growing up with me as a parent…

I really am phoning it in with no dial tone if I’ve somehow made her lose hope for me when I haven’t lost it for myself.

I…am some kind of toxic.

Runaway Brain

Posted in anxiety, Attention Deficit Disorder, depression, seasonal affective disorder with tags , , , , , , , , , , on November 18, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Either my unmedicated A.D.D hijacked even more of my brain chemicals to get so chaotic or the raise in Cymbalta has amped up my hypomanic energy but…wow, my brain is racing today. Wasn’t prior to taking my meds. Now it’s like pulling in six different radio stations on one channel and I don’t know if I wanna listen to metal, pop, country, dance, rap, or thrash so it’s all doing battle to get my attention and I am utterly confused where to go next. But nooo, I do not need Focalin at all, ass trash insurance company.

Nope, despite a relativity early bedtime and only waking six times during the night (6 is pretty good with my mega sleep disturbance), I did not have the strength to pull myself out of bed on this cool gloomy day. I hit snooze til 7:10 then did the Evil Daily Deed that is waking the spawn. It usually involves her growling and groaning and sometimes yelling at me so I have to scorch her retinas with the overhead light and pull the covers off of her so she can spew more pea soup at me…So on top of still being half asleep and having cramps, I had to deal with her daily wardrobe drama and Monday morning ‘don’t want to go to school, I am sick’ litany. (Which starts on Sunday nights, I call it Sunday-itis, how she hates this bloody school yet what can I do? And she isn’t even consistent in hating the place, every day is some new declaration of love or hate, puberty anyone?)

So far other than send the kid to school and take care of the indoor and outdoor cats, I have done nothing. Spook was supposed to have a dental appointment today but I left a message canceling it Friday since the car is out of gas. Then they started calling both phones and texting me about missing the appointment and I’m just like, not my fault you can’t check your damn messages, I gave 72 hours notice. Geesh. Just a cleaning, anyway. I guess a true grown up would have answered the phone and done a mea culpa, but the runaway train that is my brain just isn’t feeling the ‘adulting’ thing today.

Oh, I stand (sit) corrected, I have been proof reading an old novel I wrote AND THIS IS HUGE: I am playing music. Usuaully it rattles me too much and on this laptop it sort of sounds like crap, metal needs bass and metal and this has none. BUT yesterday I got dealt another death blow. MY DESKTOP COMPUTER STARTED EMITTING A SHRIEKING NON STOP BEEP AS I TRIED TO BOOT IT UP. I looked it up on line and it’s apparently a hardware problem which I know nothing about. R is out of town. My nephew is busy with impending parenthood, a paper route, a wife, and oh, reformatting my kid’s netbook. So much as I feel the stirrings of my creative writing trying to wake up, now my desktop computer won’t work. To say I am devastated is an understatement. I bought it used four months ago and even sprang for the warranty but hey guess what? You gotta send it to the warranty place and shipping for a heavy tower is around $30…(I only paid $49 for the tower,ffs!) I gotta stop buying old shit, shoulda known it was iffy since it still has a 3.5 inch floppy drive. But it was working fine, I don’t understand what happened. I made sure it wasn’t near the heat vent, that it has plenty of ventilation in back. Hell, I was in such a depression, I barely used it more than half a dozen times. I did, however, leave it in sleep mode for 3 months so god knows what damage that did. I had a bad juju feeling that if I shut it down something bad would happen and it did…

I can write blog posts, short stories, poems, letters, etc, from a laptop. But when it comes to 400 page novels and using external drives and creating pathways for my playlists and using my kick ass speakers…I need a tower to avoid overheating and avoid overtaxing its brain. Now…I am fucked.

But it was like I told my sister, every time something good happens, it is generally followed by two or three bad things. We got heat, got our hot water heater fixed, even got the kitchen faucet replaced and the bathroom sink unclogged…So of fucking course, my PC tower had to keel over. THEN my bedroom smart TV (used, $69) went spaztic and wouldn’t let me use my apps for two days and I reset everything I could think of, signed in and out, turned it off and on. Then I remembered a trick R taught me at the shop, how sometimes unplugging them for ten minutes can ‘reboot’ the system kinks and I’ll be damned after that, the apps started working again. Sadly that is not the easy fix for the living room TV. The IR sensor has failed so the remote does not work and we can’t access any smart features without it. That fix is gonna involve stripping the TV to its frame and about two hours labor and I know R will do it for me and not charge a dime but…he is never available, he just got shipped out of state again for his job.

Which lead to another clusterfuck in my brain because he warned me last night that IF they didn’t ship him out, he wanted to come hang out tonight. And when I woke so groggy and moody and crampy, I kept HOPING they’d ship him out, then I could avoid bathing and pretending to be social. When I found out they did ship him out, I felt a little bummed. Probably because his presence means I get free Mangoritas. I am shallow that way. I still consider it back pay for all the pro-republican tirades he put me through that nearly drove me to a nervous breakdown. Lately, though, he has toned it down greatly aside from the digs here and there about Democrats and especially the female ones Trump refers to as ‘the squad’ so that is what R calls them and I just find it so demeaning to the female gender. If a bunch of guys were like minded and such, they wouldn’t be labeled ‘the bromancers’. Oopps, that is a can of worms best left sealed and buried in concrete. Politics lead nowhere good.

Still not sure how I am gonna get Spook to her band concert Wednesday with no gas in the car. (I even emptied out lawn mower gas, but it was only half a gallon and that ain’t gonna get us to Dopia School) She has literally had ONE practice, and will have ONE more tomorrow and until 2 weeks ago she had never picked up a saxophone in her life. And band is only 30 minutes and most of that is instrument assembly so very little teaching. When she came home from her grandmother’s yesterday I suggested she get some practice in before getting on the tablet and war broke out. Tears, screaming, blaming me (which I had already heard from my mother, all because I dared to correct my kid for being mouthy)…She tried to tell me there wasn’t a single tutorial on line that might help her. I pulled a dozen up on youtube and she claimed ‘my tablet doesn’t get that’. Um, yeah, youtube is standard on Androids, duh. She does not like being caught in her lies and vivid imagination so she went bonkers over that. I eventually got her calmed down and she complained the sax didn’t sound right so she couldn’t play it. I warned her from the get that I know fuck all about music so I’d be of no help.

When she finally exited tantrum zone and started making a true effort, she actually impressed me with some of the notes she was able to make. She certainly has more of a handle on putting her fingers in different positions and remembering them. I tried to learn guitar but sadly, my brain is too scrambled. I can’t even drive a stick shift car, I am so scrambled.

So now what to do with myself since I was gonna write or try to, but the slave computer has keeled over on me. Damn it, could things ever just go right for a couple of weeks at a time instead of this ‘one good thing, two bad things’ bullshit? Whose Cheerios did I piss in?

I am so bloody sick of housework I could puke. But the other day by just saying fuck it and letting myself be lazy for awhile…I ended up accomplishing a few things. Like yesterday morning before Spook got home and it was 10 a.m. and I was doing dishes and hang drying laundry and sweeping and mopping. The more I bully myself the less I get done. And BFD if it is a do nothing, feel shitty day. I allowed someone into my inner sanctum to get that stuff fixed and that takes a lot out of me so maybe a few days of True Blood binge and not fretting over housework I can find my motivation.

And I also need to mourn the death of my desktop computer. The fifth one in a row. I am starting to think buying them used is a bad thing but since it is all I can ever afford…Amazing how I am still driving a $450 car 18 months later but I can’t get a computer tower to last beyond 6 months? I must be cursed when it comes to desktops. But I still want one so bad I’d pawn all my TVs to get one. Except for the fact the pawn shop guy pays about $20 for big tvs, less for smaller ones, so I still couldn’t raise the funds. How is pawn broking any different than loan sharking? You lowball someone desperate, jack the price up and profit…

Wow, my brain is totally off the rails on the crazy train today. At least it’s an ode to my beloved Ozzy.

Trudge And Sludge: This Is Life

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , on November 10, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

A commercial this morning really drove home the point of life: It is, for most of us, trudge and sludge, day after day. I think what makes it more challenging, at least for me, is that my mental state constantly shifts, depending on mood, anxiety, activity level, social interaction, monthly hormonal changes. I can’t count on feeling the same way every single day. I spent two weeks on a relatively functional ‘high’ then came crashing back down. Part of it is indeed hormonal issues which will eventually subside (just to occur again next month, egad) but the start of new medications, two at the same time, and increase in another, well it’s a bumpy ride. And it is just beginning because the dosages can be raised again, which if the current mental state is any indication, it will be necessary and unavoidable.

I dream of stability within the walls of my own mind. More than money or success or love…I dream of living in the same mental space 24-7. Normal ups and downs brought on by situational issues as opposed to random “I want to die” thoughts followed by “I feel pretty good today, life may not be so sucky after all.” Usually the Lamictal takes care of the abrupt shifts in mood but with the new med regime, it’s kind of gone to hell in a handbasket. I mean, I am not flying off the handle or crying or going manic, but I do swing from low to lower then to middle then back down. After 26 years of med adjustments you’d think I’d be used to it. I am not. It irritates me and pisses me off.

Adding to my chagrin of ‘sludge and trudge’ daily life is the fact that much as I need calm and routine to some degree…the monotany wears me down. Different day, same shit. But if I have something on the agenda like a dr appointment or school event, it upsets the delicate balance of my calm routine and I slide downward. It’s like The Princess and the Pea. I can’t get comfortable, ever. And I am so far from being princessy (I eat food off the floor and don’t even care if it’s the 5 second rule, whatever) but never finding a happy medium is torturesome.

I get sick of complaining. I hate myself for complaining. I wish I could just snap out of it, bury it all, compartmentalize, get over it. BE NORMAL. And I have always despised the term normal because normal is ugh, boring…But when it comes to mental state, normal would be a welcome change. To wake up in the morning full of energy and positivity rather than pulling the cover over my head and hoping my kid sleeps an extra 10 minutes because I am not ready to face another day of being in the darkness of my own mind.

Shrinks have said I bring on the darkness because I listen to heavy metal, wear black, and dig Halloween and horror movies. They could not be more wrong. Those things have always made me happy. They are darkness I can escape if I CHOOSE to do so. Mental health issues, not so much. It’s like I get little say in the matter and whatever control I have over my brain is limited to not Z Whacking people or having screaming mimis. And that’s years of training myself to paste on the happy face and voice and grit my way through the feelings of anger and aggression. I wish I could ‘train’ my brain to just be happy no matter how shitty the circumstances.

Depression does not work that way.

So another day trudging in the sludge. This is life. My life, anyway.Keep fucking going.

I am just exhausted from living this way. And what scares me even more is that it will never change even for a few days. Too long spent in a depression really brings out your inner doom and gloom monger.

Is it any wonder so many of us crave manic episodes as much as we crave stability?

More terrifying is the prospect of having to go back on Lithium in addition to the Lamictal to curb all this up and down stuff. I’d rather gouge out my eyes than put up with lithium side effects and the lab work.

You’d think over the course of 60 years they’d find a way to make such an effective medication less riddled with side effects that make it nearly impossible to tolerate.

What a dreamer I am.

The Clock Turns Back An Hour, I Turn Back For Five Months

Posted in anxiety, bipolar depression, Seasonal Sffective Disorder with tags , , , , , , , , , , on November 4, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I can already feel my ‘vrooom’ factor I get during spring and summer fading. The months long depression, anxiety, panic attacks, and inept medication from that garbage nurse took me down significantly but this abrupt cold and excessive darkness and the clocks turning back…Seasonal Affective Disorder (S.A.D) has kicked in. I am fighting with all my might and mommy’s little helpers (99 cent energy shots, which my stock is low on and I can’t afford more since the donor flaked and our income dropped almost $350, next to go will be the internet)…But inevitably, like some internal default setting, my energy dries up and the depressive lethargy sets in for 5 months. All I can say is thank the sacred pegacorn this telepsych, Dr. R, gave me back my 3 mg daily Xanax. I actually let my kid have her friends inside the house yesterday and while it was annoying cos her one friend is annoying AF…I didn’t go off the deep end. It’s improvement.

Halloween was dismal. 8 trick or treaters over 2 nights. It rained for 24 hours one night, the next night it snowed and was 23 degrees. Miserable. Only plus was that I managed to get Spook a ride to a couple of functions with her friend and his dad so she got to go out, and I didn’t have to use gas I don’t have to burn in the car. Sadly, I could not take her to the school dance. For the second year in a row I told her I would, and then the donor flakes on his job and child support, and I simply can’t afford the new dress and shoes and admit fee and gas and snacks and…I know she was disappointed but, honestly, in light of how she screamed at me and hit me pretty much every morning last week, she really didn’t deserve a reward. I do feel bad letting her down. I just couldn’t eek out the money from my $835 a month when half is for rent, 40% was for power, then car insurance, water, pet supplies, has, etc…And I missed the cut off to sign her up for Angel Tree so I honestly have NO idea how I am going to buy her Christmas this year. Guess I will figure it out.

My own fault, I overestimated the donor. He usually lasts six months at a job before flaking.

I found out the ass trash lawyer I can’t stand who has dragged out this whole process of ridding myself of the donor and appeasing the court’s ordered visitation…is appearing in court today because PETA found 20 dogs and 8 horses on his ‘ranch’ and they were starving and injured and had been for quite some time so he’s up on misdemeanor charges for that. What a fucking winner. Animal abusers are not something I can abide by. And I think anyone who mistreats an animal should be charged with a felony because the slaps on the wrist do not get through to the lazy ones. Some people are just evil and like neglecting or hurting animals and some people are just plain fucking LAZY. Maybe a felony record for the rest of their lives would get them off their LAZY asses so they could at least find decent homes for the pets they are too LAZY and CRUEL to care for. My pets may not live in luxury but their basic needs are always met. Geesh. Not only is he a woman hating inept lawyer who has taken almost 4 years to secure an uncontested disolution and uncomplicated visitation schedule, he’s a monster who neglects and abuses animals. My uncle sure picked me a winner.

I have been bringing even more order to the house. I figure go with it while the organized thoughts are there. It ain’t perfect, I am never gonna be the kind of neatnik who spazzes over dust bunnies but…it’s much, much better.

The clock back thing is kind of messing with my internal clock. I was ready for bed at 7:30 last night. That’s early even for my depressed state. I will eventually adjust, I suppose, but for now, it sucks.

My kid says the metadate is making her sleepy at school so she can’t focus. She already does not want to take the pill. I will have to ask the doctor about it, I guess. Seems to me the kid is just never happy with anything. She begged for three months for this S kid to come hang out inside then when he came over yesterday, she spent 80% of the time yelling at him. Not that I blame her, he really does NOT listen. I guess that is part of why he is on the spectrum but it does not excuse being disrespectful of his friends or, you know, ME. My home, my rules. He couldn’t even throw away his trash, ffs. Not that my kid does any better but she is going to start losing access to her tablet if it persists. I worked my ass off getting this place in order. Now I gotta stay on top of it.

I am down to one final task I do NOT want to do. My sister brought me that ‘new’ used vaccuum and I really need to do the carpets but hate those bloody hell machines. Noisy, complicated, easily clogged, and half the time they aren’t really sucking up much. Guess I need a specialty pet vac to get the cat hair off the carpet.

I am very pleased with the kittens and how well they are taking to litter training. They’re sweetie pies.

So, some pics from Halloween, just cos…I can.

Never mind, it says I gotta resize them smaller and I can’t be arsed. Maybe another time. For now…I feel okay-ish. That may change later, Spook wants that kid to come over again and man…I try to be tolerant but…some people you can only take in small doses.

Like me.


Posted in anxiety with tags , , , , , on October 26, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I am having an adverse reaction to my kid being gone. I had NO idea when I let her go with my dad’s crew they’d still have her at 9:30 p.m. and not one word on what is going on. Have they decided to keep her for the night? Are they waiting for the rain to die down before returning her? (as if it has let up an iota in 15 hours.) And it’d be so easy to call and ask what the deal is but…then they’d know exactly how neurotic and kidcentric I am and it’s embarrassing. She’s ten now, not a toddler, and it’s not like I haven’t spent time without her…But this low dose Xanax is doing fuck all for my general anxiety, let alone the panic attacks, and this…is triggering major anxiety attacks and panic attacks. I have been pacing the floor to the front door for hours, waiting for the sound of the door or a car. I NEED my kid home where she belongs. Actually, I NEED an answer, yay or nay, as to whether they are bringing her home or keeping her, THEN I would be much better. And I could so easily make that call…But I am stubborn and it feels like I’ve been come too dependent on my kid, she is entitled to space and independence and freedom from my neuroses so…

I pace and panic and feel freaked out and spaztic.

As if the situation with our broken furnace isn’t enough. We found out it needs a new motherboard which has to come from Iowa because the furnace is so old and they were damn lucky to find even one available at all, and I guess the landlord is balking at the expense but his son told me he’d cover it all nonetheless. Which gave me a bolt of panic because, yeah, I sorta read the lease and it seemed pretty standard that the landlord/property owner is responsible for repairs on the home and its fixtures…If I had to come up with several hundred to get the furnace going, we’d have no choice but to move. But as his son said, it may have been our cats that took out $40 worth of ductwork, but it was years of basement humidity that trashed the furnace’s motherboard and that is not on us. I just…We’ve been here 18 months and this is the first repair we have ever asked for so the landlord balking at the expense baffles me. I’ve shelled out close to nine grand to live here these 18 months, if that isn’t work a working furnace maybe it’s time for him to sell off his properties and get out of the business period.

Anyway, the board won’t be in til Monday or Tuesday so til then, we are on space heaters and layered clothing. I really don’t want to tell him about the broken water heater. I KNEW I shouldn’t have tried cleaning the damn thing with all that loose willy nilly wiring. But that is a future problem. When I was 11, we rented a house and the hot water heater went out and the landlord wouldn’t pay to fix it and my parents did not have the money so for six months,our baths consisted of boiling large pans of water on the stove then mixing in cold in the tub to bathe. Pain in the ass but it didn’t kill us then and it isn’t killing us now. I managed a bath last night, after making a meatloaf. Then I hit my wall around 10 p.m.

I hit that wall around 7 tonight when I got hit with waves of nausea, cold chills, and just a feeling of sleepy exhaustion. Thankfully it passed but it has me wary that I may have the flu or something. I took no meds, drank no booze, so it was just so random and baffling to suddenly feel so sickly. Glad it passed.

Okay, it’s 9:40. Maybe she is still at the church shindig. I miss her. Her battery bunny motion and yapping make me nervous as hell but her not being here makes me more nervous. And really, I am ready for bed. The chills have passed to hot flashes so it’s less wanting to be unconscious and more just feeling exhausted. Chasing these kittens all day has exhausted me, crazy as it sounds.

Did I mention I want my kid home? Or at least an inkling of what the fuck is going on? And I definitely need a break from these kittens gnawing on me or the electric cords. This has been a very long, pointless day. I usually love the sound of rain but tonight it is irritating me. 15 fucking hours, going on 16, of nothing but rain hitting the AC unit, drip drip drip drip tick tick tick…

I hate being so high strung. I wish I could shut the anxiety down. Cut it off at the knees. Mercy it with a fucking Z Whacker.

Yeah, the Z Nation references are probably going to continue a little longer til I finish the final season.

It is the one thing making me feel some joy, though after 8 episodes today, I did have to stop watching it because, shocker…IT WAS MAKING ME NERVOUS.

I just gotta laugh at myself or I will cry at my own ludicrousness. Ludicrous as it all may be, this is how I feel and it is very real.

Rain Drain And Mercy Proofed

Posted in anxiety, depression, S.A.D, seasonal depression, Seasonal Sffective Disorder with tags , , , , , , , , , on October 26, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I have sufferedfrom (and make no mistake, it is suffering) seasonal affective disorder since I was an adolescent. It comes every year like clockwork around the end of September/start of October, though there have been a few times it did not start until Novemner if the weather was stretching summer like weather longer. Every psych professional I have ever seen about this seasonal depression boils it down to the same (bogus) assertion that it is caused only by the shortened daylight hours and can only be cured with light therapy and exercise. I bought into their garbage therapy and bought the pricey lights that mimick sunlight and it doesn’t do a damn thing. Because I believe seasonal affective disorder (S.A.D) is hardwired into your brain chemistry and body chemistry so even if you rev up your metabolism and fake yourself out with false light…what it boils down to is the inablity to ever get warm and this immovable ‘veil’ that covers your mind for six months until the season shifts from fall and winter to spring and summer. That is how it is for me, anyway.

This is not to say that I entirely discount the impact sunlight has on mental health issues and mood. Just today alone, without the previous two days of cool gloom, is enough to make me miss the retina scorching skin torching sunshine I usually admire from indoors but avoid much contact with. It was raining when I woke at 7 a.m. and is still raining at 7 p.m., not one single break in sight. No sun. No warmth. I am already craving tomorrow’s forecast, which while not warm, is alleged to be sunny. That will warm the house significantly and it will lift my mood out of the gutter.

It just angers me that they oversimplify what I endure by chalking it up to nothing more than some missing daylight hours. It’s more than that. That is significant but my seasonal can carry over into spring if the weather is still cold or excessively damp and rainy. This rain, with the cold, does me in. Warm rain does not impact me as much. But we are on day 3 without sunshine, and 12 hours of solid rain…My mood has been looking up at the belly of a snake today, it’s so low. And much of that is tied to not having working heat and being cold, but also not even being able to step off the porch because it is so rainy and cold. I feel tied down, locked up, locked inside. That bums me out. And since I am now waking at 7 a.m. and it’s dark outside, I am going to likely feel this overwhelming lowness for the next five months. So sunshine plays a part but it’s not the entire disorder and being told that it is by so called professionals has lead me to believe they don’t know a damn thing about it other than ‘it’s the winter blues’. I wish it were that simple.

I pulled off a mom win and got my kid a ride to town with my dad and his crew so she might try to use her Pumpkin festival ticket but with the rain and cold, not sure if she got to or not. She went with and got out of the house, at least, and is at a church function right now. That’s 8 kid free hours I have had. Unfortunately, with three active kittens loose who like to mess with electrical cords, I can’t say I’ve had much mental or physical rest.

I settled into season 3 of Z Nation, where an episode resonated with me. The evil guy secured metal helmet thingies to the attack zombies barring the necessary kill shot thus “mercy proofing” them and…I kind of feel that way with my mental issues. I can’t even be put out of my misery. And it isn’t some dramatic boo hoo self pity thing. It’s just this feeling of not being able to escape feeling like shit.

I feel so good about all I have accomplished but other than regaining control of my home’s chaos and making it ‘worthy’ of others’ approval…what did I accomplish? Nothing is different inside my head. I still want to be asleep ALL the time. I still feel like I am crawling out of my skin with anxiety over every sound, call, knock. I did all this stuff to regain control of my life but frankly…it’s an illusion. I never did get a follow up call from my psych center since THEIR telepsych service failed. How is that remotely fair to me? How is it meeting any bare necessity standard of care? I don’t think this place is ever gonna have their shit together again. Last time it was remotely adequate was circa 2015. But that awesome doctor left necessitating telepsych cos they can’t keep shrinks and their standards for psych nurse’s is laughable. If I don’t have any hope for my standard of care and things aren’t magically fixed by having a clean house…what hope is there, period? Mercy proofed. No mercy. Just misery.

Think I’d prefer to battle the zombies. Might be hope for a better outcome with them. Least I’d have the satisfaction of killing off some bad guys instead of always feeling like I am at their mercy. And a psych center this inept and uncaring…Yeah, I’d have much better luck and hope for a positive resolution with zombies.

That could be the weather laden depression talking but at the moment…it is how I am feeling. I worked my ass off and now my home is tidy enough to pass muster with the masses but…it changed nothing inside my sick mind. So maybe feeling out of control worsened things, but being more in control didn’t really lessen things, either. I guess my unmedicated mind got this inkling that if I just stayed off the antidepressants and detoxed from them and got shit done, well, then I’d miraculously become bipolar one and only need Lamictal and feel all better.

Delusions of grandeur. Lovely symptom of bipolar, getting it in your mind that “maybe just maybe this time” will be the magic time you won’t need more meds instead of less. I wanted to be okay, I really did. But I am not. The only improvement is that off the Zoloft, I have no thoughts of self harm. But I also have no hope or energy or even give a damn so wtf…

I curse myself every day for not having just become a drunken pothead as opposed to this neverending and seemingly pointless effort at getting proper psych treatment.

To be honest, I am irked with the current state of how being a pot user is socially acceptable and somehow cool or kosher as opposed to being a drinker or cigarette smoker. If being stoned is my only option, I’m gonna have to stay miserable and retain my brain cells. Pot makes most people, me included, lose IQ points by the dozen. While politically that may be smiled upon these days…

God, it just makes me more depressed. I don’t want to have to become an imbecile to get through life or to be considered cool.

Fuck it, I stopped making sense even to myself three paragraphs ago. Rain drain, gah.

The Mental Chaos Tipping Point

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on October 11, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

The “plan” for today was to get my kid to town for her sleep over at her grandmother’s then come home and start kicking ass around the house towards cleaning and organizing.

The mental health gods started laughing and here I am…the tipping point of mental chaos.

Paralyzed with panxiety, ie;paranoid anxiety, and feeling very unsafe, unbalanced, and like…nothing matters and so what if it did.

My dad has already stalked me by phone 3 times today, STILL on my ass about hauling the stuff from my shed. Which I still don’t know how it is any of his fucking business. Last spring, we took an entire pick up truck load to the city wide dumpster, what is left are odds and ends, some I plan to haul up there in my car, half which either won’t be accepted or I am not prepared to part with. I try to tell him this and still…just when I think “Okay, maybe he finally got it and will piss off’…he comes back at me.

And I think it was that third call, followed by a nerve racking plot twist in season one’s ending of Van Helsing, that sent me over the edge into mental chaos.

Sad but true. I get panic attacks even from things I love, like vampire/zombie/medical/crime/horror shows. I know it is fictional but…when my mental state is whittled down enough, I am easy pickings for the anxiety and panic to take over and the mood to crash. I think if my dad had just left me the fuck alone, as he had last week and this week before the rain, when he was busy working, I might have stood a chance at accomplishing something. But him constantly butting in, invading my space…it’s not cool. It’s not something I can easily let slide off of me cos ya know, I am not made of Teflon and assholes DO GET TO ME. I made an offhand comment to him about Spook being scared of a neighborlady who yelled at her for petting one of their cats and my dad said, “she needs to get over it”. I said, “And some people are just fucking assholes.” Which lead to him lecturing me that yes, people are assholes and he deals with them every day and me and my kid both need to grow up.

Um…If they don’t end up with a shovel upside their head, that is me being a grown up and dealing with it. There is NEVER going to be a point where I, or my child, gleefully accept that people can be assholes and we have no recourse. Maybe we can’t stop them from being assholes but we have EVERY right to hold a grudge when their asshole behavior leaves a dent in our psyches. Of course, my dad has zero emotional quotient, so nothing gets to him. He was put down from birth by an abandoning drunk bio dad then adopted by a physically abusive dad who made him start working when he was 6 years old. They treated him like shit, gave him zero affection or encouragement or even a fucking occasional hug and so..he is who he is, therefore the rest of us must also be loveless dead inside redneck assholes who just accept that the world is Asshole-a-palooza.

I look at the ‘socially acceptable’ ‘likeable’ people like my dad and stepmonster and R and think man, if I have to lower my enotional IQ that low and cease to feel that drastically just to be considered part of ‘polite society’..fuck that shit. Because being nice to people;s faces then trash talking them behind their backs and criticizing their every move does NOT make you a good person. It just means society,as a collective, is…Asshole-a-palooza. And I am NOT okay with that and maybe my only recourse is to rant and bitch and make sure I don’t assimilate like the fucking Borg. I will never join their collective, even if it just adds to the ignorant stigma of my mental health diagnoses. If not wanting to be an emotionless robot makes me defective and it’s a personality disorder cluster…so be it. Least I am being honest, with myself, and with others.

I miss my kid already. Which is pretty sad since she hasn’t spent the night at her grandma’s in 3 weeks since their kitchen fire. It signals to me maybe I am too dependent on the mom identity and somewhere, maybe I have lost myself as an individual, outside being Spook’s mom. Though were it not for the current extreme states of my depression and panic, I doubt it would feel that way. Mothering her is the only thing I ever feel like I do moderately well. I cling to that. But when I am not in a depression and clawing my own skin off from anxiety…like if I am stable or manic or writing…then a night kid free feels normal and healthy. I was hoping for that this time around but…the forces have decided otherwise.

And no, I am not delusional, thinking some Star Wars fictional forces bullshit. It just takes a lot of things aligning simultaneously for my mental state to be in a ‘good’ place and my toxic father invading my space 5 times in under 18 hours sent me into a downward spiral. The delusional fuck even said he wished the landlord would sell this house to him cheap then I could just rent from him and stepmonster. Oh, dear fucking god, they’ve all but enslaved me just because they haul away our trash, I don’t even want to know the strings of ownership on us they’d claim if they did buy this house. Think Spook and I’d rather live on mom’s sofa.

Oh, but that leads to another stresser. Technically, my mom doesn’t even have a house. Her roommate owns the house they all live in and since their homeowner’s insurance is balking at the $9000 damage the fire mom caused, the roommate is now saying that my mom should have to cough up the four grand deductible insurance won’t pay. When my mom is already paying for pretty much everything, including my nephew’s car and insurance even though he’s 20, married, and doesn’t live there. So there’s a whole other level of drama going on there, my mom said earlier when I dropped Spook off she didn’t even have $20 to her name. So if she can’t pay for the damage she caused, even if by accident, I wonder how long this roommate will play nice. Never mind it’s my sister’s mom in law or that they have all lived together over 21 years at various places…this one the roommate alone paid for in cash and owns, so…I can’t even say we could go live at my mom’s cos my mom…owns nothing.

I am spinning out with panic. Total freak out.

Normally I can distract myself with fiction but…the turn the last episodes of Van Helsing season one took have left me a little off kilter. I do get anxious when it looks like the bad guys are winning and the good guys are losing or turn out to be treasonous backstabbers…Ermagod…spinning out sooooo bad.

I’d say I prescribe for myself a couple of mindless but enjoyable TV sitcoms on tonight but again, that depends on if the antenna is pulling in the right station and…the weather has that acting all fucked up, too.

I had such big plans for today, this evening, for the morning.

Why can’t my dad just leave me alone???? Other than help with the trash haul off every week, I ask NOTHING of them. They are always asking me for shit, though. Walk our dogs, take our man child to work, fetch our man child from work, do our dishes, fill out this paperwork cos your handwriting is better….I ask them for NOTHING. I feel like I am in a fucking prison.

And my mom and sister make it seem so easy. “Tell them to fuck off.”

Yet I remember how hard it was on me and my sister when my dad displeased his parents and they stopped speaking to us for over a year. It hurt us kids cos we loved our grandparents and didn’t understand the adult bullshit and drama and opinions. I don’t want to do that to my kid. I don’t want her to feel that if she loves her grandpa she is disloyal to me. Though she is coming round on her own, finding out now that she is out of the cutesy single digits, they are more harsh on her and far less affectional and gifty. They yell at her, insult her, and she is seeing the truth. Which I have tried to discuss with them and they just call us both big babies and tell us to grow the fuck up. Charming people, my dad and his woman.

At this point, I’d sell myself into servitude to an employer as housekeeper,cook, driver, book keeper, grounds keeper, dog walker, babysitter…if it meant them relocating us far far far from this hellhole near all this family drama that is…about to drive me to a nervous breakdown.

But if I can’t even keep my own house clean and lawn mowed, I don’t suppose I am of much use to anyone right now.


All I really want to do is get under the warm covers and shut out this suck ass reality.

When Spook is here and my job is clear-be her mom- I can keep tying knots into my frayed rope and hang on. Without her here reminding me why I keep fighting what seems like a losing battle against my own father and my own sanity…

I am fucking freaked out.

So much for a productive clear headed calm kid free night to recharge my mom battery.

Everything I read about these days concerning mental illness says that taking control is the answer, controlling the situation so you can feel more…in control. My question is…how can you do that when your own mental chaos is holding you hostage and preventing you from the clear thought you need to regain control?