Archive for gofundme

How Anxiety And Depression Put Your Life On Hold

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on February 20, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

I’ve often expressed to my doctors how saddened I am by how much of my daughter’s childhood I have missed due to crippling depression and anxiety. Mind you, I’ve been here for her every day since she was in utero. But over 8 years, I have experienced so many depressive bouts and skin crawling anxiety, I fear I have missed my chance to truly bond with her over fun outings. I’ve never taken her to the public pool or a movie (that crowd terror I have.) So many days I am just too low or wound too tightly or frozen with the inertia of it all…I’m not a very fun mom. And it breaks my heart and I really wish the professionals would GET that. None of them really do, though, to them it’s just an excuse or complaint to be taken with a grain of salt.

For me, it’s like seeing my kid’s loving childhood ‘I need mommy” years pass me by and I can never get them back. It is heartbreaking and frustrating. I try so very hard, even on my worst days, I at least try to make her laugh a few times with faked silliness. Before long she will hit double digits and become a tween and I will be little more than an embarrassment to her (as is normal for kids entering that age zone). To look back and see all that depression and anxiety have cost me…The doctors, therapists, and disability powers that be will never in a million years understand how devastating it is, how nothing can ever make up for it.

Today was day 4 with her home from school. We’ve been getting along pretty well. I can’t say I was fun mommy today because I was making calls left and right about finding a place to live and it was just door slam after door slam, either no pets, not available, twice the rent I pay here a third of the space. It’s disheartening, to say the least.

My dad extended a lovely offer. If I come live in his town in one of the properties his friend owns via section 8, they will let me drive their white SUV and put my old heap on auction. Now this sounds great, right???? WRONG. Being under their thumb is worse than dealing with R. It may come down to being imprisoned that way, but I am fighting it tooth and nail. Last person they loaned their vehicle to all they did was gripe about her running back and forth to town (25 miles round trip) and putting mileage on their vehicle. If she took it to go out on a date or to a bar with friends, that offended them, too. They are so controlling, it would be akin to being smothered and buried alive. I wish I were being dramatic. Even my sister said they are just trying to lure me there so they can basically take over my kid and turn her into a little redneck like them. I’ve seen them try so it’s not far fetched. It’s..last resort. Not to mention what those people can’t grasp is that section 8, even with a willing landlord with an open property, takes at least a month to go through, if not longer. I have less than 2 weeks!

My gums hurt from grinding my teeth with anxiety. I haven’t eaten a thing today, I have no appetite. When Spook asks, “Are you sure we’re not gonna be homeless, mommy?” it breaks my heart. No, we’re not gonna be homeless, though we might be better off if we were. One local agency will help with first month rent and deposit BUT you literally have to be living on the street, in your car, or in an emergency shelter for more than a month. HUH????? So to get my kid a home I have to let her have no home which puts me in danger of having her taken away from me. This system is insane.

Sleep doesn’t seem like it’s going to come easily. I am out of melatonin and I am sure as hell not taking any of the doc’s or doc nurse’s ‘sleeping pills’. Worse hangover than a vodka bender, I kid you not. And they make me sluggish the whole day after and bring my mood even lower. So how are their prescriptions any different from alcohol if both act as depressants?

Again. If you can donate or just reblog or pass on social media…Fundraiser is here.

If you need further proof how dire our circumstances are…this is my current bank balance.

And to add more stress, the yearly registration sticker for my car is do by March 31rst, another $105 I can’t come up with.

It’s hard for me to ask for help so believe me…we need it more than you know.

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As The Anxiety Builds

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , , , on February 17, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

That title sounds soap opera-y but then, I grew up second hand absorbing my mom’s love of daytime soaps as a young kid. To this day I remember characters and actors from Young and The Restless, Days Of Our Lives, Another World, All My Children. My brain is a steel trap for inane pop trivia yet the stuff that could prove useful…poof, gone in ten seconds never to return.

Another fine gray dreary wet day in the ninth circle of midwest hell. This is not good for depression. Week after week we have maybe 2 sunny days which leaves 5 gray days a week to wreak havoc on my mental state and drag me further down the rabbit hole. Joy. It’s a catch 22 for me, because I find sunlight hurts my eyes and sometimes makes my skin itch and feel like it’s burning, yet for my moods, sunlight is important and I’ve come to accept that to my own chagrin. Though what all the professionals psychobabble about seasonal depression being solely due to shorter sunlight hours is bunk. For me, it’s a factor, and a relevant one, but also the inability to ever get truly warm for 5 months of the year is a mega hindrance to my functionality.

I could not get to sleep last night even though I took a melatonin and felt sleepy. The minute I put my head on the pillow…my mind started churning, the anxiety started building. I did my usual self soothe ritual of counting backwards in odd numbers from 1000…By the fifth time I was downright pissed off because I wasn’t the least bit sleepy so I got up and watched an episode of Castle. I was still awake at 1:30. Then I woke several times during the night and I’ll be damned if I remember why. Come morning and sensing that it was light out (gray as it is) I pulled the covers over my head as this is the one day of the week I can at least sleep til 8 a.m. and it was only 7:30. Never mind going back to sleep, the brain was out of the gate like a racehorse-bucking bull hybrid, thoughts spinning, panic setting in, the thought of failing my child by ending up homeless paralyzing and terrifying. And then my kid was up so time to make the doughnuts, so to speak. Be mommy and all.

We ran some errands, though we had to wait ninety minutes for stores to open. During which my kid channeled satan with impatience to go spend the dollar grandma gave her. When she goes into jackass mode, there is no reasoning with her. Honestly, I am tired of the ‘perfetly normal for a child that age, just a phase”. If I recall, people suspected Jeffrey Dahmer was just going through a phase when he started tine torturing and dissecting animals. At some point a phase is actually a warning sign that something is amiss. With my kid, I think it’s some sort of oppositional defiance thing because the word ‘no’ sets her off.Probably why in all my depressions and anxiety bouts I’d eventually let her wear me down to keep my sanity. I am no longer the yes monster, though, trying to repair the damage done by my perpetually altered mental status. It’s not shirking responsibility, I created the monster to some extent (my family did not help at all) so I am working on correct it. Can’t say I am fond of having bags of quarters swung at my head for simply saying “No, we’re not going out today, we’ll do it tomorrow.” She’s kind of a ticking bomb sometimes.

At the same…she is my joy. She is love, and I beam when we are interacting without all the drama or my depression and anxiety infused self doubt. She is an amazing kid, so smart, so creative, and while maybe my nurture was only a factor…Knowing I haven’t completely screwed her up in 8.5 years in spite of all the struggles…It’s nice to feel like I’ve done one thing right.

Errands all done, which is good, cos the spitting snow and rain and gloom really bring me down. And I’m not talking ‘ooh, bummer, dude”. I mean total mood sabotage, as in one minute I am ‘managing’ and the next I feel like I am sinking. Oh, depression, you gift that never stops giving. I wish you would, really. Because your idea of giving is actually TAKING, robbing me of basic functions that come so easily to others. I may have to learn to live with you, but I will never ever welcome you or consider you any kind of benefit, you cockweasel.

(I know, I spew venom like a cobra, isn’t it awesome?)

And FYI, for the ignorant sans empathy alleged human beings who think mental illnes is a weakness or an affectation or we’re lazy and ‘faking it’…It is my fondest wish you get some invisible illness that hinders your existence and others view you the same as they view those with mental disorders. Walk in those toe pinching blister causing shoes a week and you’d be crying uncle.

I am having one of my ‘deer in the headlights’ days, meaning the anxiety is so bad I feel like moving from my spot in my bedroom crypt will result in catastrophe. It’s irrational, but then so is throwing up over the side of a gambling boat on a date cos the panic is so overwhelming it elicits a physical response. Anxiety disorders make zero sense but one thing I’ve learned in spite of all the gobbledygook the professionals spew…if you get anxious and it’s just your personality…maybe you can retrain your neural pathways and go all cognitive and mindfulness and be all better. But when your anxiety is constant, differing only in severity, sometimes based on outside stimuli, often with no clear trigger…that is a disorder and it is crippling, It distorts your thoughts, makes you have irrational fears, causes trust issues, and often makes you feel like you’re a lost cause. Oh, the lies our disordered brains tell us. And when they do it while we’re down the rabbit hole…we’re just vulnerable enough to either believe them or at least ponder their voracity. Living in perpetual self doubt and confusion, and having the mental health, er ‘behavioral management’ regime more often than not having zero clue and not wanting to buy one…It’s not a quality existence.

My dad darkened my doorstep today and asked if I found a place to live yet. It’s been TWO days of looking and I’ve already gotten 8 unfeasible or unavailable responses. The man has no grasp on the reality of my situation. To his credit (sarcastic emoji here) he gave my kid $2 to blow on junk food and offered me nothing even though he knows I am low on phone time and penniless. Feel the love. Hell, if they’d help me a little even with money for talk time and gas, I’d cook them a good meal or come clean their house…I am willing to barter with whatever I have to offer. To not even be offered that chance by my own family…But I don’t work and in my dad’s book that makes me a lazy non person. He has bragged so many times how he’s 71 and still works everyday, I want to slap him with a rotting mackerel. It’s not my fault he’s a workaholic. It’s not my fault that he can never seem to save up enough money to make himself feel better. I’ve stood by my kid, kept the same roof over her head 9 years, and that’s more than my parents did for me. Oh, we were clothed and fed, but it seemed we were moving every year or two. 8 different places in two different towns before I was 13. Maybe they didn’t have a choice, or money, but I think with all that counts against me and no help from the donor…I am due a little respect for all I have managed to do in spite of my detriments. But nooo, not with my dad.

This post was supposed to be brief but…I guess I’m like Stephen King via his ‘Making of Rose Red” video. “I’m more of a putter-inner than a taker-outer.” Rambling and ranting is my therapy and contrary to what my inept psych team thinks…it’s a wonderful method of exorcising my demons. And while I do wish I had followers who were more interactive as far as clicking like or commenting because if I help even ONE person struggling with mental issues feel less alone…it does my heart good and I’d like to think it does them good and that’s just something, as a writer, a sufferer of mental disorders, and as an empathetic human…I’d like to hear about.

So that’s the purge of the scumbag brain,

Now comes the reminder of the ‘help us find a home’ fundraiser which has raised ZERO dollars in 4 days. It amazes me how people donated to help get my cats vet care or help me license a car and yet I am facing homelessness with an 8 year old and not one person cares to donate or even just share on social media with a bit of my story…I am sure a large percentage think it’s a scam but I have posted on the gofundme page the paper declaring us out if we can’t buy. We have no choice and this was no screw up of my own, it was a doublecross by a lying sociopath landlord and a soulless management company hell bent on ridding themselves of low income ‘trashy’ tenants. If you have an ounce of humanity, even if you don’t have a dollar to spare, please click the picture of my daughter below and at least check out the page and pass it on social media if possible. Or reblog even. ANYTHING could possibly help and if you read my prior entries, you will know my story never varies. I am honest to my own detriment at times telling it like it is and how broke we are.

Look at this little girl and tell me she deserves to be homeless just because her mom is disabled and has limited income and her father is a working deadbeat unwilling to see her or pay a cent even when ordered by the court.

Remember…even a $5 donation from several people can help and I am always willing to provide receipts for every cent received and spent.

All I want is to do right by my daughter.

876

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , , on February 17, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

876. That is allegedly the number of followers I have, though I suspect 90% are just too busy to unsubscribe, let alone read my rants. Still, even if the 10% who do read and occasionally click like or comment were to donate $1-$5 to our campaign…My daughter and I might well have enough to at least cover a security deposit on a new place. Believe me, this is humiliating, stressful, and not something I like doing but for all my “humanity sucks” frustration…I still believe in the ultimate good of some people. And as I’ve said before, even just a share on social media can have a great impact.

Please help if you can so Rosemary’s Baby Mama and Gothic Witch Kid don’t end up living on the street. I wish I were being overly dramatic but this is our reality. 12 days to come up with a place to live and the money to secure it. And this came as a shock to every one of us here when we were informed of the new ownership or out policy on Valentine’s Day, so this is not the case of me waiting around knowing it was coming and blowing all my money. This is the very definition of an emergency.

And now that I’ve done my beggar bit and probably offended what few people do read this…

Today has been a battle. With my own mind. I started out terrified to make phone calls, but I managed to fight through it and made two, then three, then five, then seven. And two out of them were wayyy out of my affordability range, three had nothing available, one of them said I didn’t make enough money to live there, and I am waiting for a response on another though there’s been none since 8:47 a.m. so it’s not looking hopeful. And finding a place to allow even one cat is proving a challenge as well.

I feel so defeated and yet my nerves are crawling with anxiety. I barely ate anything today. I went pee a gazillion times because when I am nervous, I drink lots of water which of course means peeing a lot. I put anti perspirant on 4 times because I kept sweating through my armpits. Not to mention the knots in my belly. None of which is remotely glamorous and yet I am supposed to believe it’s my behavior that’s a problem, not the fact that my stupid brain is running on Windows ME and dial up.

The frustration is only slightly lesser than the mounting panic. I can’t believe how hard it is for me to make phone calls, it’s asinine and yet very real. Before my kid was born, there was a time I simply could not use a phone, period, I had to have my sister call around to find me a replacement shrink because I was in such bad shape under the crappy one I had, the crazy one who thought Seroquel was better than Xanax for anxiety disorder thus I became an agoraphobic paranoiac for half a year. (Yeah, I’ve not had great luck with competent psych docs, welcome to rural midwest ninth circle of hell.)

I can’t even start packing because I have nothing to wrap glasswear in, only a few boxes, and even if I start packing, we still need space to get through this place and oh, yeah, a place to take the stuff. It’s like don’t stop, don’t go, and I am just lost, going wtf?

To top it all off, when I brought my kid home from my mom’s she started having her spaz out tantrums and swung a back of coins at my head, after screaming at me for ten solid minutes then slamming her bedroom door four times hard enough to rattle things on the living room wall. I passed it off as her not getting her own way and not getting enough sleep at mom’s…but then napped and started right back in because I wouldn’t give her my uber nice adult coloring book that was a gift from a reader…then she started saying I was lying about the teacher saying good things about her schoolwork, then she launched into how I let her down and we are going to be homeless and it’s all my fault…

And I am just like…I mean, here I am, teetering on the edge of a breakdown with all that’s been thrown at me in less than 2 months, and I am forcing myself to view this as a potentially positive thing once we manage to work it out…I am trying to reassure her, comfort her, make sure she knows this is my responsibility and I will figure it out somehow…but it doesn’t deter her, she just goes on tangent after tangent.

I’d like to say it’s exclusive to this current predicament but it’s not. My kid goes off on these neverending tangents over various inane things several times a day, several times a week, and trying to reason with her is pointless.

Now I have 3 straight days of dealing with her behavior, as well as processing my own precarious mental state, worrying if anyone will rent to us since we won’t have a cent til the day we are due to be thrown out of this place…I’m not eating, I’m terrified of the phone, I’m panicking that I can’t get all this stuff packed, that we are going to be in a shelter and honestly I’m not even sure there is a homeless shelter here….And yeah, it’s pretty sad when you have family but they’d send you to a shelter rather than let you live with them for more than a few days due to space constraints. Like I’d wanna live on a sofa with everyone traipsing through at all hours, but just knowing the option was there would be there would be nice. My mom doesn’t own the place though, her roommate does, so her rules apply. As for my dad…he’s already made it clear I’m not even welcome to their sofa even though they’d take Spook for awhile.

Um…NO. Hell no! WTF is that shit, anyway? Proof you can’t pick your family cos I would have chosen a supportive one that actually likes me. Or at least doesn’t think less of me for being disabled and not being able to work reliably.

FAIL.

On the plus side..I’ve had 3 showers in the last 8 days. That’s an accomplishment, especially considering how cold the place is even with the heat blasting and costing me all my internal organs and external limbs. I figure if I am going to be meeting with teachers or potential landlords, the least I can do is not reek and wear clean clothes. And it’s bloody exhausting. Which pains me because I used to be one of those frilly ‘don’t leave home without cute clothes and make up’ types, at least during the manic bouts.

Now if I remember deodorant and scrub my fangs, I consider it a win.

The spawn has zonked, it’s almost ten p.m., so I think it’s time I reward myself by preparing to go to bed. I need a break from my own brain. Hopefully I won’t have nightmares again about running out of trash bags and toilet paper. That melatonin gives me fucked up dreams. I guess running out of that stuff is better than the one where I was sinking to the bottom of the ocean on the Titanic…

It just goes to show that even in my sleep I am haunted by my waking problems.

Deflated And Defeated

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , , , , on August 12, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Today sucked. No mega calamities, but had to do the shop thing for 8 and half hours with whiney nagging spawn in tow..And of course, feeling tapped out psychologically means every single tiny thing is like a chainsaw to my psyche. Kid nags and nags and has fits and talks when I answer the business line then knows I need to help a customer so THEN she demands my attention or I am the worst mother ever…And three TV’s and an amp came in today and I heard NOTHING from R about what was done and who needed called or stalled.

Which leads to my other problem. THE NEW ASS TRASH DUMBASS SMART PHONE. I can make and receive calls fine. My holy grail, unlimited texts, are not working AT ALL. People text me, I get nothing, they get mad. I text them, they get nothing, I want to throttle my wireless carrier. I spent an hour on chat support and this dude told me we’d gotten it all fixed and hours later, I can send a text but it bounces back as invalid recipient, or I don’t even get that much so I am all stressed over buying a new phone and expanding my plan on my own dime and my SERVICE IS STILL GARBAGE. I never had so much trouble with Tracfone prior to becoming involved in their Lifeline/Safelink program, since the it’s been nothing but dropped calls and texts that never send or get received or come days later. Yet they won’t own anything even when I have spent almost two hours in a week trying to get this stuff straightened out.

The powers that be are trying to pass a new bill so taxpayers won’t be forced to fund phone access for poor people. I think this is shitty but considering MY CRAP SERVICE under the government plan in spite of me purchasing my own phones and shelling out for extra phone and text services…Something is broken here so our Lifeline isn’t such a safelink, now is it?

Another problem popped up with the car. The driver’s side window had a piece fall off so now the power window kinda bobbles in the frame, and come winter, that is gonna be frostbite city but R says my rust bucket is so old finding that little chintzy piece is gonna be difficult and pricey. Which means, of course, I owe more of my soul to him and his shop and whims and yes, I need the help cos, gotta have a rolled up window during winter but…

Nearly 3 months with a defiant screaming child and her daily mob of friends…I am on thin ice here. Yesterday I said no to her taking her new MP3 player outside and…this is what she did during her tantrum.

Yeah, she sat in front of her door thrashing and punching and kicking until she kicked in the bloody wall. I even recorded the audio to go with it, where she told me how much she hates me and wants them to take her from me or she wants me dead.

Everyone says it’s normal kid stuff, I am overreacting, but kicking in a wall, saying such horrid things to her mother, and being so out of control, even if is periodical and related to me saying no to her whims…Something is wrong with my child. I don’t care if she need meds or therapy or yoga or gluten free cardboard tasting rice cakes…SHE NEEDS HELP. She keeps playing the “I have anger issues” card because I tossed it out once to R as a joke. While it may have some ring of truth…she makes her choices. They say no to her all the time at school and she doesn’t get in trouble or even get notes sent home.

I think my rude awakening was yesterday when one of her friends knocked during her tantrum and I went to tell S that Spook would not be playing any more that night…and my daughter came raging out of her room, in hysterical tears, screaming, and she shoved me and pushed me right in front of her friend.

Normally I am a badass who won’t tolerate being mistreated to that degree. Thanks to Snowflake Society and The Pathological lying snowflake brigade…I can’t even reach for her arm to guide her inside because she will yank free hard enough that a mark is left and I turn out to be the bad guy simply for setting boundaries.

This child is kicking my ass. Every part of me prays to pegacorns, spaghetti monsters, and whatever deity gets you through the day..let this violent behavior be a phase, let it be something that a lot of therapy (if ass trash donor’s insurance will even pay) can help, or even meds, again, IF his ass trash insurance will cover it.

But the ass trashiest donor (oh, sure, there are way more awful sperm donors aka dads but Spook’s deserves a special reward for being so emotionally immature and oh will it bite him on the ass come court time for posting proposal pics with his old gf on line while still married to me only for them to split up and him move on to another woman and they too split…) Least amidst my psych damage I am still able to form attachments to my child, my pets, my friends, my possessions…

He may hold a job and convince people with his fakeness but he is far more broken than I will ever be.

Another thing that really brought me down today, something that never really hit me before which makes me think maybe policies have changed but…my kill the bugs fundraiser..Three good friends saw fit to donate a total of $170. After gofundme and wepay take out their fees and percentages, it amounted to $130. Not that I am without gratitude, I was able to get an estimate (three bedrooms, two baths, and cracked walls and crevices, it’s gonna exceed the $500 I thought was aiming too high) and I did order a big batch of the pricey but very effective stuff I used last time to weed out the ickies…Just irks me that fundraising sites would deduct THAT much, like I am robbing those who were kind enough to donate and because of the fees I still have to keep begging and pleading so I can swing the professional year long contract that is the ONLY way to slay all the roaches.

I am so grateful to those who donated and I pray with all the noodley goodness of the flying spaghetti monster and sparkly rainbow farting magic of the sacred pegacorn me and Spook can get a few more DONATIONS.

And ya know, if you find the on line “scampaign” thing daunting…we’re more than happy to just have the bug killer sent to us via on line purchase or even a prepaid gift or visa/mastercard. We’re not looking for a spa day and endless skiball at Chuck E Cheese. Opening the cabinet without it raining cockroaches…YEAH, that is what we want.

THIS IS A NOT ANOTHER SCAMPAIGN.

And so now that the life has been sucked out of me and even my own child makes me feel unworthy of drawing breath and nothing I do is ever good enough yet I am so exhausted a little part of me could use a couple of days resting at the Rubber Ramada cos damnit, adulting is hard, and it sucks even more when you’ve got chemical imbalances in your brain…

Hopefully tonight I can sleep. No demand to be at the shop tomorrow morning. Maybe I can breathe. Or maybe I can stop being convinced I have bugs in my hair cos I’ve been checked and checked and no one sees anything even if scumbag brain says otherwise…(Kinda like after I got doped on depo provera and was convinced for a year I was preggo even with periods and dozens of negative preggo tests.) Pregnancy and childbirth and single motherhood have really turned my brain to mush and paranoia, and it was bad enough due to brain damage long before that….But the idgets around me fail to see just how difficult it has become, how bad it gets…

Cos by midwest mindset, one you have a kid, you cease to be capable or entitled to anxiety or depression. So says my classy as fuck family.

The final insult…The weather here is changing, getting cooler, even tree leaves are starting to change colors in spite of almost 6 weeks til the fall season change…Both my knees are killing me and that only happens when using steep staircases daily or…change of weather. I like being in pain, it’s awesome. Oh, no, wait, it isn’t. My brain is frigging burnt toast.

So my kid is more erratic than me and violent at age 8. My death trap bucket of bolts car has another problem I can’t afford to fix. The cockroach problems worsens and the “ever so helpful” fundraisers and pay out places rob you of much needed money so kindly donated by such amazing, caring people…R is asking more of me than I have to give and it might get me a bag of cat good or a pack of smokes, but he’s driving a shiny 2005 Mustang while criticizing my ’93 rusted Buick so even if he does keep his word on getting me a better car…

Will my sanity be in tact enough for it to matter?

Don’t get me started on all the political related horrors that pop into my email inbox.

Even without bipolar and its soup de jour byproducts..I think this day and age is as appropriate a time as ever to feel horrified, scared, and ashamed to be an American.

And that is my truth, not my disorder or their distortions. A country that strips away your rights, spits on everything our founding fathers valued, and our leader is being considered a mentally unstable ‘nuke war starter’ by his own people all because he WON’T STAY OFF OF TWITTER…

Feels like I am living a cross between the movies Strange Days and Gattaca. And badass as I may be, I am petrified. Brown eyes,dark hair, too many extra pounds, little proper education, no job AND mentally defective…

Question isn’t why I am so deflated and defeated and scared.

The REAL question is WHY DON’T THE MASSES REALIZE THEY ARE ON THE CHOPPING BLOCK TOO AND FEEL TERRIFIED?

Mental distortions due to psych disorders and psychological damage don’t always mean we those eschew it should wear tin foil hats.

Honestly, we only do that on Wednesdays when we get THE INCOMING MESSAGE FROM THE BIG GIANT HEAD and put on our foil hats, but that’s subterfuge to cover our spaghetti tentacles as we are busy paying homage to his noodliness.

Life is really shitty but as long as you can find humor like that…Guess life has robbed you of everything just yet. And if it doesn’t make you smile, smirk, or become incensed to hear me be so sarcastic about it all…

I gotta try harder and be a better writer. That’s all that has ever mattered to me.

The typos alone should tell you that much. Love me, love my writing, love my typos. Unless you want to work for free and proofread. In which case you are like OCD and we’re not gonna get along so….

LONG LIVE THE TYPOS AND THE TIN FOIL COVERED TENTACLES.

Pardon me now, I am gonna slither off to bed and hope for a few hours I can dream about anything but my current mental state and reality. Even nightmares are better because they do end when you wake.

No, not being Debbie Downer. This is just where I am right now. In my dreams…my bills are paid, there are no roaches, my car runs properly, and my kid adores me. Who wouldn’t prefer that to a reality that is the opposite.

NO MORE BUGS, HELP!!!!

Why I am trying to Raise Money

Posted in gofundme campaign, mental health with tags , , , , , , on August 10, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

For those unfamiliar with my plight, I am going to repost my original post frommy Go Fund Me page.

SINGLE MOM BEING BUGGED

I am a single mom trying to get by on limited income. I rent and my landlord won’t pay to exterminae the place. I have used EVERY product known to man, at my own cost, and still the roaches and assorted other ickies return. Two years ago, I had finally gotten it under control then my neighbors moved out because they couldn’t handle the bugs they had. I begged the landlord to at least spray a line between our homes to keep their bugs from moving in with me and my child. He did not do it and here I am again.
With school starting, summer power bills, treating the cats for fleas, food costs…I just don’t have the money for extermination as local companies require you sign a 12 month contract and that adds up to more each month than I can afford without my kid going hungry. I am asking for help because I am embarrassed for anyone to visit lest a roach come creeping out. Not all people who get roaches are unkempt slobs. These bugs were here from the moment we moved in and nothing I do helps because the landlord has high turnover and any time someone moves out, their bugs come to my home.

I could probably suffer til I manage to save up, but I am terrified my lack of money could result in someone saying I am an unfit parent and my kid lives in an unfit home. My daughter is my life and she deserves to be able to get a cup out of the cabinet with a bug jumping on her. Even if you can spare five dollars, it adds up. Please help if you can’t or at least spread the word on social media. This is humiliating and I am using what over the counter products I can but none of them eliminate the nest and….

We simply need help.

So that is our story. We don’t want the money for superfluous reasons. We need it to improve our home’s liveability. I have tried to do my best as a single, disabled mother with limited resources, I never asking for assistance that wasn’t absolutely necessary for my child or keeping a roof overhead. It pains me to ask for help even now but the problem is just getting worse so even if you can only spare five bucks.. Your help is appreciated.

Here’s the link again.

Even a repost or social media share can make a difference if you’re in the same boat as me financially. Thanks for reading this.

Why It’s Not So Easy To “Get A Haircut And Get A Real Job”

Posted in bipolar disorder with tags , , , , , on August 9, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

After being hunted down last night by R because my prepaid droid and his contract iphone apparently don’t get along and I got his texts but he didn’t get my replies…He is apparently back to the old ‘real’ job thus today I am trapped at the shop. The first four hours I made Spook suffer with me, then I arranged for my sister to fetch her so at least part of the day wouldn’t be blowing-out-my-brain stressful.

Not a single call. Not a single person coming in. Not even a to-do list from R. Just sit here and watch shit on my computer and try not to lose my mind from boredom.

What’s the worst part is…The Brain Bugs Are Back. Being in the dish, in a place where people could call and come in…My entire body feels like bugs are crawling all over me even though they are obviously not.

This irrational anxiety has plagued me throughout my life, from school to dating to working to marriage to raising my kid. It is crippling. My every instinct wants to lock that door and drive home fast as I can because likely the brain bugs will subside or at least stop putting on heavy metal concert with my central nervous system as the mosh pit.

And this is why I am on disability and have been for some time. Because employers need reliable logical employees who aren’t convinced bugs are crawling all over them simply because their central nervous system and brain chemicals have gone haywire. They don’t want to hear about your months long depressions where you consider one shower a week your major success story, let alone being able to get out of bed, think coherently, and be productive to their schedule and standards. They don’t care that some days your memory fails, aphasia sets in (using the wrong words, kinda like when I said get the frogs off my skin and meant to say bugs), your hands shake so you can’t do anything that requires dexterity with your hands. Forget your stomach churning and all the trips to the bathroom, that’s an inconvenience and makes you more trouble than you could ever be a value as an employee.

Perhaps for some considered to be slackers, it really is as simple as getting a haircut and getting a real job.

For those of us with the mosh pit of battling brain chemicals inside our skulls…

It’s not that simple. It’s not a matter of sucking it up or getting over ourselves. We are not lazy. We take no pride in our inability to be high functioning. We are embarrassed, filled with shame, we have low self esteem to begin with and the world robs of us what tiny bit remains because we can’t meet their standards of the norm.

I used to think it was okay because for thirty years I’ve had all these mental health professionals aligned with me, saying, yes, your disorders are crippling and making you unstable to hold a job, you NEED disability checks.

THEN I got and read shit like this:

How would an immigrant Donald Trump fare under the neo-Nazi-approved “legal” immigration plan he endorsed last week? He’d probably be targeted by his own deportation force.

Columnist Catherine Rampbell writes that the “economy-crippling bill”—which opponents have noted is really an effort to cut down on non-white immigration and make America white—“change[s] how ‘skills’ and ‘merit’ are defined, replacing our current employer-centered system with a points-based one” that awards points for “age, education, and extraordinary achievement.”

Original link to that is HERE

Yeah, Yeah, Morgue, you’re an American, what’s the big deal? The big deal is it sounds like financial eugenics. And first on the chopping block are gonna be those of us who by society’s standards ‘don’t make any contributions’. Paranoid? Yeah, so were those who saw the holocaust coming. How’d that turn out?

Perhaps I am proving my own point here of just how whacked out the brain bugs have made me.

And let’s not forget the real bugs that reside with me and Spook. In the two minutes it took me to put ice in my cup and pour water, a roach had crawled inside. No one should have to live that way simply because their priority is feeding their child and keeping a roof overhead. So…The CAMPAIGN continues. Thanks to those who have donated, and please do if you can and spread the word if you can’t, maybe there’s some kind person out there or maybe even two who don’t know me but get…Living with bugs is not a choice and unfortunately the goverment won’t allow me to sell a kidney to pay the Orkin guy.

And just remember…having a disability is not synonymous with laziness or not putting forth effort. Luck of the draw and we with legit disabilities got screwed. But then I guess the masses can’t understand it. But if it happens to them at some point…they will. And they will find out what a cruel place the world really is.

Grossed Out By Roaches? Ours don’t even pay rent!

Posted in bipolar disorder with tags , , , , , on August 9, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

YEP. I am doing the FUNDRAISER THING because our landlord won’t pay for an exterminator and my limited budget has maxed out on OTC bug killer. So before you judge me as as being skanky or dirty or whatever…

Visit my campaign, read my story, and KNOW I AM ONLY ASKING FOR HELP BECAUSE MY 8 YEAR OLD DESERVES NOT TO LIVE IN A ROACH MOTEL.

That link again is

Single mom, on disability because of brain damage, minimal child support slumlord neighobor and we..simply need help, $5, a repost, share, spread the word on social media…we are an 1/8th of the way donation wise to being able to get a pro bug slaying company to kill off these unwanted pests.

On the bipolar/anxiety front…I did dishes, swept, srubbed, cleaned the bathroom, scrubbed freezer and fridge (amazing how stone cold fury motivates, my kid has a knack for startind drama amongst her trailer park friends and I have the audio files of her kicking, screaming, name calling, and punching walls to prove how awful she is when told the word “no” and all the older girl did was come tell me Spook had lied to me where she was going to be and was in an area where she could get hurt, but in Spookland, that;s being a traitor, thus I guess I have myself a Trumpling.)

Very atressful day. Then my new phone was working ‘right’ while R hunted me down cos he’s getting his real job back and wants me at the shop tomorrow so I got bitched out by him even though I WAS replying to his texts but turns out…smart phone requires you dial 1 plus area code plus number, which I didn’t know and pegacorn knows how much of my prepaid time was wasted on that crap…

I agreed to appear tomorrow, though not with a huge chip on my shoulder. I have to take the spawn with me and it’s…more stress than I need but whoaa, he gave me a car stereo and installed it thus I apparently owe him shop tending AND a kidney…

Rubber Ramada ain’t looking so bad as it would keep these toxic beings away from me….

I am toughing it out cos I have witnesed the loyalty of my handful of friends who even if they can’t donate, share the link to my campaign. I don’t want to lose you guys, love you all to smithereens.

Soooooooooooooooooooo…IF you can spare five or ten in my effort to evict and eradicate the roaches so no one calls me a bad mom for being broke….Please please please. If you can just repost, share, or pass it on on social media….Please. If not for me, but for my kid because I damn well know 99.8% of people cringe if visiting and they see a single bug. WE didn’t choose this but if I can’t spring $500 for the Orkin man, I sure as hell can’t afford first month and deposit and moving fees and utility trasnfer fees to get a better address/home.

And now…melatonin/Xanax combo is telling me it’s beddy bye as I have to be up at the crack of ass to go to the shop and repay his highness for the car stereo and his labor installing it.

Some people make us with mental issues think Rubber Ramadas seem pretty damned appealing.

YEP.