Archive for health

Bad Medicine- Minimized

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , , , on May 23, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

So the video of me spazzing after my nightmare nurse practitioner tag team assault yesterday can be found here on my youtube channel for those who like to watch as they drive by car wrecks and can’t look away.

I went in, feeling ok. Not up, not down, just a bit ashamed I hadn’t worked up the energy to properly bathe and my hair was still greasy cos I am too damn broke to afford shampoo that actually lathers and cleans…Then I was hit with a student accompanying my already iffy practitioner and she was my age, and my nurse…sort of deferred the entire appointment to the student. The two of them talked more to each other than to me, like I was not even in the room. I felt off balance, cornered, and when they decided next month they’re taking me off my anti depressant, I went BALLISTIC. I said I’d be doing much better if they’d STOP SCREWING WITH MY MEDS WHEN I FINALLY GET SOMETHING THAT WORKS. They’re talking taking away xanax, wellbutrin, buspar and just leaving me with Lamicatal (cos it helps with depression and anxiety, according to them, and newsflash IT ABSOLUTELY DOES NOT FOR ME), Abilify and some antihistamine for anxiety.

I felt like a terrified cornered animal snarling and baring my fangs. I walked out of that office feeling so minimized, so infuriated and frightened and ignored. It was awful. I went right to the desk girl and demanded to know how long til the tele psych thing will be functional. It’s gonna be months and my NP is my only option. I raised more hell and she said it wasn’t my NP’s fault she couldn’t prescribe higher xanax and it’s like ARE ANY OF YOU EVEN LISTENING TO MY WORDS? sHE’S TALKING ABOUT TAKING SOMEONE WITH BIPOLAR TWO AND SEASONAL DEPRESSION OFF THE ONLY ANTI DEPRESSANT KEEPING ME AFLOAt!!!!!! This has to be stopped, this cannot happen, because I will go down the rabbit hole again. My God, one measly month of feeling better on the Abilify and all these nurses can focus on now is getting me on fewer meds. Not giving me time to adjust and max out and come to the decision myself. Just handing down blind edicts without regard to me as a person or individual.

So the desk girl says I have to see my NP next month but two weeks after that in July I get a one and done audience with the benzo nazi. Oh, me and her are gonna have a talk. Hopefully by then I won’t be menstrual and she won’t make me feel like a cornered feral animal. I still can’t believe how they talked to each other like I wasn’t even there. And my NP kept her back to me, AGAIN, to clack on the computer. She looked at the student nurse to address her, though. This is NOT acceptable but I know how it plays out. I am the psych patient, I am hooked on pills, I won’t do therapy, I am to blame for the Lindburg kidnapping. I;ve told them to waive their counselors fees and I will gladly see one of them. Nope. I asked for Lunesta or Ambien for sleep. Nope. That student even had the audacity to suggest Remeron- the stuff that made me sleep 15 hours a day to the point my first husband and his father moved our entire house while I was in my pill induced coma. HELL NO. And I said exactly that.

It is unfathomable how low this NP makes me feel about myself and my progress. One month is not an accurate gauge, especially when increasing to the max dose, to go yanking out all the other meds, even if the high dose Wellbutrin is causing me more anxiety. That should be my choice, IF I feel secure enough to go without a net. And I don’t. She wants to try a different antidepressant that doesn;t heighten anxiety, I can roll with that. But to completely remove bipolar two patients from singular anti depressant therapy is borderline malpractice. I feel doomed having to see this woman. I am ready to just throw in the towel, do without meds, and let my manic flag fly even if it lands me in jail.

It’s not worth it to go in every month and walk out feeling minimized and mute.

So I couldn’t write when I got home, I was too pissed off, terrified, motified, just…she really did a number on my head and with the student there, it felt like a tag team full on assault.

I took 2mg Xanax and slowly my mind calmed. I did dishes, I did some laundry. I change cat boxes. I checked the fluids in my car. I mowed another third of the lawn. I cooked a decent meal for our supper. Anything to keep from having to think about how awful that nurse and student had made me feel. They make me want to go back to drinking because I may as well be a slobbering drunk for all the input I am allowed in my care. For all the lack of encouragement I receive. Her bedside manner sets off every panic and self protective sense I have. You can;t progress properly when you have to face this adversarial non supportive situation each month.

But as I don’t have a choice right now…at least I have 4 weeks before I have to endure her again.

It’s not nearly enough time to recover from what they made me feel like yesterday.

I wish I could sue them just for the emotional suffering. It takes a LOT to turn me into the cornered animal that way, especially when I am in a decent mind frame. But talking all those changes when I haven’t even fully stabilized for a month or two…They are in the wrong here and maybe I handled it less than perfectly but I will not lie down for this. I will advocate for myself. And if talking to the benzo nazi doesn’t help and they still don’t have the tele psych going…I foresee myself going off my meds, taking up CBD oil or weed and booze, and just slamming the door on the whole thing. Because shabby mental healthcare is more depressing and stressful than depression and anxiety disorder.


BAD MEDICINE: Witness To The Cornered Animal Melting Down

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , on May 22, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I still haven’t figured out how to write about the horrid psych nurse experience this morning. If you’re curious, go check it out on my youtube channel. It is called Bad Medicine.

Hate vlogs? I will write later, when I am less feral animal and more calm writer.

Spoons, Sporks, Forks, Done, Queen Cobra

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

I am finally sitting still after running all morning. My spoon/spork allotment is zilch, I used them all getting my kid to the doctor, rushing her 15 miles to Armpitopia school, rushing back to town 15 miles to make my job interview with like two minutes to spare…Stick a fork in me, I am done.

The interview was relaxed and I think it went well, though I can never seem to shake the underlying “I am a fraud, I am not fit to work when I can’t even keep my laundry folded.” I hate being forced into this position, I truly wanted to return to work ‘the right way’. One year on stable med cocktail through the winter depression, that is my litmus test. I don’t have the luxury.

Anyway, the lady that interviewed me said they have multiple interviews through tomorrow for only 3 open spots but I could always apply for their thrift store. Cos being a numerically dyslexic cashier sounds like a great idea that could not possibly result in me giving someone their own twenty dollar bill back because numbers so easily confuse me and mix me up.

More bad news, even though I only have $835 a month income, it would still cost me $85 minimum per month, plus $8 gas times 5 days a week for nine weeks, to get Spook into the summer camp there. I simply don’t have it. I might be able to eek gas money, or eek out the camp fee, but I can’t do both. Stupid fucking donor screws up everything for that kid. She’d be so much better off with that program all summer. They take them swimming and to game playplaces and they feed them two meals and a snack…Plus she’d make new friends and get out of the house. But unless I stumble across $240 by June 11th, she won’t be able to go. And even with that paid, I’d still need gas money. I can’t even get a fast food interview, apparently submitting a resume for those jobs automatically excludes you as being ‘too fancy’. Ffs.

On top of this, the new pediatrician thinks Spook may have a ‘slight’ curvature of the spine which is why she is so uncomfortable and unable to touch her toes and is so clumsy. So now she has to get an X-ray. It terrifies me either way because one, she gets that backbrace the kids will torture her about, or two, she needs surgery, and I just don’t see how she’s been that impaired by not being able to touch her toes. Leave it to me to pick the one competent doctor in town who is willing to challenge insurance and get these tests paid for. I have her also set up for some ADHD test, as well as a child psych, and a referral for a psychiatric eval. Shit’s getting real now and it makes me wonder if I have overdramatized things. I know I haven’t though. I still don’t think there’s anything too wrong with her spine. She’s 4 foot nine, 100.8 pounds and perfectly healthy and sometimes happy. I mean, she begged me to take her back to school today as opposed to going to grandma’s or staying home, so apparently her depression and low self esteem only apply to school days when a classmate is having a birthday party with treats.

I am wiped. I fed myself and got back into warm slobby jammies. I went back to sleep around 5 a.m. but I bolted up at 7:30, thinking it was later and I’d missed her appointment. Starting the day in a panic after a night of start and stop sleep and bizarre dreams is not to my liking. One thing, though, I should sleep well tonight. I thought for sure I’d get home and be able to nap but scumbag brain rebels again. Now I have 6 hours at least before I can tune out and try to rebuild the spoon/spork supply and face another day.

This cold damp weathwr ain’t helping at all, for some reason, my housekeeping giddy up requires it to be summy and relatively warm. That is unlikely cos though the temps are going back up to 80’s then 70’s, we have 7 straight days calling for 50% plus rain chances. Fuck’s sake, I can’t escape seasonal depression even during fucking spring because fucking Illinois and fucking Mother Nature can’t stop forcefeeding me the cold and bringing the seasonal symptoms back in spades.

Yes, I needed to say fucking all those times, it was necessary. Cathartic even. Because I feel fucking exhausted and fucking hopeless and fucking pissy. My brother has the IQ and maturity of a bath sponge but he can get a job and I can’t. And I hate my toxic father being in my head, pointing that out to me every single day by mentioning ‘your brother is working today’, like that helps at all. And I fucking wish the donor would just fucking die already since he’s done nothing to help his kid and everything to hurt her.

Maybe if I ever get 7 solid hours of sleep, I will be less venomous and hateful. For now…call me Queen Cobra.

Restless Mind Syndrome And Pink Cacti

Posted in anxiety disorders, bipolar disorder, depression with tags , , , , , , on May 15, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I haven’t accomplished fuck all today aside from making some youtube video clips and refilling ice cube trays. My motivation is on the side of a milk carton back in the ’80’s. I went into the kitchen to do one thing, got distracted by two other things, then the beeping microwave reminded me why I had come in there in the first place. Damn lucky Jen gave us the microwave with a working timer, had I gone blank distracted like that with the old one, the house could have caught on fire.

My mind keeps spinning and churning so fast and so much, I’ve decided to call it Restless Mind Syndrome. I had the Restless Leg thing when I was preggo and it was disconcerting as hell, like your legs moving without input from your brain. It was quite terrifying at first and thank pegacorn it went away once she was formally evicted from my uterus….But now it’s my mind that is restless and it’s not connected to my limbs which is why I can’t seem to accomplish anything. Start, stop, forget. Oh, the forgetting, I am so sick of them blaming the depression. I have brain damage from that interaction years ago which is why I forget things literally 3 seconds later, that is organic, not some branch of my disorders or meds. I am DAMAGED IN THE BRAIN. I’m the only one who seems to accept this as a fact. What I want and what is are two different things, though. And while those Shriner kids are adorable and I am so happy for them for banishing the word ‘disability’ and doing amazing things in spite of it…That isn’t me. My brain is my CPU and OS and it ain’t running right and it is no longer supported for updates. I am compromised. I hate it, I wish I could deny it, but…it is what it is.

I got some bad news. My mom had a mammogram yesterday and they told her that the results were bad. She had a benign fatty lump removed 2 years ago and now it’s back, bigger and more suspicious looking than before so the doctor is worried. Not worried enough to get her in before June 6th, though, ffs. That gives it 3 weeks to spread if it’s malignant, wtf, the healthcare here is a fucking joke and they are fucking malpractice mavens. My mom is 70 and while I know the reality of losing your parents is coming my way…I hope not too soon, my daughter isn’t ready to lose her grandparents even if I wish I could take them to Six Flags and lose them in the crowds. Ha ha ha ha. That happened to me and my cousin when I was 8, we went there so mom could see Eddie Rabbitt and we got split up and it was dark and closing time before they finally used the PA system to tell us where to find our adults.

I think today is just gonna be a wash. My night fucked up my day again since I woke up and then couldn’t get back to sleep. And scumbag brain is busy dabbing and not giving me a properly ordered list of what I should be doing right now in which order.

Curious about the pink cacti? Make your way to the bottom of the page.

Pink cacti, my ‘put on fast shoes to run outside’ shoes. Hideous but functional and only a buck.

Wish me luck, I am going to call that place about the job interview possibility later on today to follow up my email. I will either seem overly aggressive or sincerely interested. I’ll roll the dice, I really want this gig.

Manic Monday, Chapter Two

Posted in bipolar disorder, depression, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on May 13, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms


Bedtime at 11 ish. Up at 1 a.m. Awake til 4:45 a.m. Up with alarm before 7 a.m. This has become my new despised normal but this week…it’s not grueling and I am not exhausted because…hypomania. My dad called first thing, then came over to gripe about my yard needing this and that done to it, and I didn’t even get panicked when he decided to come inside and use my bathroom then insult my housekeeping.

I think this is a point most people don’t touch on much. Bipolar people have pretty strong psyches. It’s not like we’re shrinking violets who submit because someone says we have to and we don’t want to displease them. Half the time we are in such a fragile state, we will do whatever it takes to avoid the paranoia and panic attacks that make us feel more vulnerable and weak. But when we are ‘up’, everything changes, right down to, yes, perception of things that usually make us fall apart so fast emotional shrapnel flies. Today I feel strong and solid mentally and so I cope better. I know this is part of the manic depression cycle so it will come and go but I do love when it visits.

It also kept me from throttling him when he started in on my about getting a job at McDonald’s. No, not a job, but  THE SAME SHIFT AND SAME DAYS MY BROTHER WORKS SO THEY DON’T HAVE TO DRIVE HIM AND HE CAN RIDE WITH ME. I told him I want overnights. They only run drive thru after 11 and I think two nights from 8 to 10 pm ish I could deal and Spook would only need a sitter for when she was sleeping. I don’t worry about when I will sleep. I haven’t been working the last 2 and a half years and I still don’t get decent sleep so catnaps work for me. What I do NOT want is working 5,6 days a week for 3 hours a day. With my anxiety, it is best if I go in and get the work week over with so I can breathe and regain equilibrium. I am just so fucking sick of him telling me what to do when I am damn near 50 years old. But I am also feeling pretty shitty cos half the people I know who got jobs ended up getting fired or quitting, and already even with a bad current reference, they are getting hired for new jobs within a couple of weeks and I am getting nothing.

Thing is, even if they hired me tomorrow, it won’t help me right now. The cats are running low on supplies, the water bill is due, the car needs gas…Not like my dad will help me on any of that even if I paint their shed or whatever to earn it. That’s why I post our paypal link, in hopes some kind soul will help out with five or ten buckets to help keep us afloat. I know it annoys people and it makes me look like a money grubber scam artist but I am pretty much an open book. I mean, 9 years of blog archives so my story is consistent. Facts always are. I post my disconnect notices, my account numbers (I was hoping since I did that someone would have helped with Spook;s school pics since they could have just ordered them and not need to give a penny in cash). I am transparent as I can be. (And I also accept directly sent stuff, so I’d suck as a scammer unless cat litter was currency.)

I did this video last night because muggles have asked me what mania is like. Now this was hypomania, not full blown, but same idea. Ten feet tall and bulletproof except with hypomania you’re too scattered to remember where you put your Kevlar so eventually you’ll take a hit and it will likely be mortal to your hypomanic good mood.

And no, I am not giving up, I am gonna keep supporting my kid’s dreams of a vacation and all I beg of you is, just share it on social media. Help this kid get something she wants out of a life.

Mania is wearing off, I am gonna be one tired little ghoul here soon. But the ride was good while it lasted. Think it means my Abilify needs increased, though, dual mood stabilizers usually murder the hypomania if they’re working right.

Have a great Monday. Play me off… (And for the love of pegacorn, could someone do a METAL version of this song THAT DOES NOT SUCK?)

Snuggies, Lemons, And Springter

Posted in depression, seasonal depression, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on May 12, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

If you are new to my blog you are likely unaware of how I frequently create hybrid words. Well, today, I have a new one. Springter. Because it’s 45 in May and we are freezing, warming our socks in the dryer, using a space heater, and searching for the winter clothes and snuggies we just packed away BECAUSE WE THOUGHT IT WAS SPRING. The calendar lies. Mother Nature is a lying deceitful bitch. For people like me whose depressive cycles coincide frequently with bad weather, this is like  a  death knoll. I can’t think straight because I am so bloody cold. And NO, turning on the furnace in May is NOT gonna happen. Cranking it on every shiver is what put me on the bad side of a $900 three month bill, I need the break for summer to catch up by not using the furnace and gas. Least we do have this little space heater but unless you’re on top of it, it doesn’t do much to warm your hands. I think I still have hands, they’re numb from being so cold. SPRINGTER.

Yesterday was a low day, and sure, the cold and rain is part of it, but it was also a normal mood low that comes with the ebb and flow of bipolar depression. I got focused on is it bedtime yet, and that’s all I could think about. I was cold, I was depressed, I felt anxious, and darkness and bedtime are my only real safe spaces in Armpit. If it’s still light out, then there’s every likelihood my dad and his crew are gonna be calling and showing up unannounced and getting me all stressed out with no one to choke (legally.) It truly was just a fight to survive yesterday because of my mental space. The mental health Gods gave me lemons and I was too crippled by my illnesses to make lemonade.

I still have those lemons today, in the form of being cold, uncomfortable, pissy, and all around irate. The added bonus today, though, is that my brain is in hyperdrive, like ADHD hell with the bouncing thoughts and inability to accomplish a single thing because I CANNOT FOCUS. I take the lemons to make lemonade, forget about it, then I think, ooh, I can cook a good Mother’s Day meal, maybe I use some lemon zest, or hey, lemon water could help me lose weight and…STOP. But scumbag brain doesn’t stop, just keeps going.

My daughter brought me some cool gifties home from church that she made me. Then she ran off to her grandfather’s house. I feel loved. We were supposed to have a meal in town at my mom’s but they are all sick there so much as I didn’t want to drive or socialize, I really did want meatloaf and mashed potatoes. My cupboard is down to hot dogs, corn dogs, chicken nuggets and ramen. A good filling meal sounded really nice…But I understand, no one who feels ill enjoys a good meal so we will just postpone it.

It’s Mother’s Day otherwise known as ‘my uterus performed its function, I am sooo special’ day. If you missed the comic I posted,  Click if you want a funny. I have zero motivation so I am just gonna try to keep my brain from bursting out of my skull with its ping pong ball thoughts bouncing about.

Maybe later I will think to take the lemons life gave me and make some lemonade and be all happy to be alive and yada yada. It could happen. Satan could also order air conditioning for Hell.

Spooky Sockhands- it is that cold inside.

boopy sockhands.jpg

Spoons, Sporks, And Monsoons

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression, health, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , on May 11, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I’ve already had my dose of fresh hell this morning that took pretty much ALL my spoons for the day. We needed a bag of cheap litter, a bottle of melatonin, and a jar of pizza sauce so I can make cheese pizza later. I asked my dad if they had any work I could to do to earn $3-$5. This resulted in being told all about their own troubles (they’re getting haircuts today, just paid property taxes in cash, and are eating out for the third day in a row, oh boo fucking hoo for them, and she doesn’t even have to work,ffs.) He guilted me. Told me to go to Mickey D’s open interviews ( cos I didn’t do that six months ago only to not hear a fucking word!) and since they hired my brother, they’ll hire me too then I can carpool and take him to work with me and they will take care of my kid and have her pushing gas mowers all summer…

There. went. all. my spoons.

The man just cannot get it through his head that IF THEY WON’T HIRE YOU, IT DOESN’T MATTER HOW MANY TIMES YOU KEEP TRYING. And I have a sneaking suspicion of why I was deemed unhireable by that place but it makes me sound like a paranoid assclown. Only thing is, I worked management and this sort of thing happens constantly. Someone applies for a job, they come in to talk to management, and then another employee says oh, I know them, they’re weird, don’t hire them…and often it really IS that simple and I only believe it because being inside the management circle, I saw it happen. He’s had the same job 43 years, he has no fucking clue. And I would rather starve and move to live on my mom’s sofa than let them ‘babysit’ and put my kid to slave labor. She’s not even ten yet and barely has the strength to push an old reel mower, let alone a gas one.

This will make me very hated by you, I am sure, but the truth is what it is and lately, I’ve been counting down til my dad is dead and I am finally fucking FREE of him, of his woman, of their man child.

But let’s play devil’s advocate here so I don’t look so overreative and mental. My kid and I have an eye doctor appointment Tuesday at 11 a.m. Open interviews are that day at 1:30. So do I take her along  cos I sure as hell don’t have enough gas to bring her back to Armpitopia school district then go back to town then come back home, that’s like 80 miles and I will be lucky if the gas in the car now gets me through all of our appointments this month. He made no offer to help me with the gas thing, and had no answer as to me taking her along with me except it probably wouldn’t look good to not have adequate child care…The week after this, my kid has a well kid check up in the morning. I am already calling her off for the day because even if the appointment is over by ten thirty, I’d still have to make that 80 plus mile trip to take her to district school then  back to town for open interviews. (Oh, and for the record, the McDonald’s job listings have been listed as filled on all my on line site notifications, indeed, snag, ziprecruiter,etc).

I’m just so fed up with that man in my fucking space. And it was my own doing cos we need litter and melatonin, and yes, for $3 even on a cold rainy ass day I am willing to work for it  cos I buy from the dollar store, LITERALLY, so three items, three bucks. I can’t do it til Tuesday since I am low on gas in the car but I am trying to do right by offering to do work and earn what I need. It’s not like I said give it to me cos I am your kid and I am fucking marvelous! Such a cold hearted dickbag, my dad. And my mom is back in nasty mode, too, telling me how awful I am for punishing my kid for breaking her THIRD tablet. “We’ll just buy her another one, get off your high horse!” That is a problem, that is why she breaks everything, cos gramma and auntie will just buy more stuff.

Never a good sign when I need a Xanax before 11 am.

But we’re on dog duty for the day and it’s bloody miserable and then I gotta towel dry the dogs after each time and then they need cuddle comforted cos the rain upsets them…God, dogs are a lot of fucking work and neediness. Spook can do the comfort thing. I’m too pissed off and defeated.

At this point I’d wipe up a nasty ass peep show booth if it meant not having my dad in my business and telling me what to do, because I have done it his way and it still isn’t working cos THEY DO NOT WANT TO HIRE ME, GODDAMN IT MOTHERFUCKER SON OF A BITCH ASSHOLE SHITFACE DICKBAG.

No, it was not necessary for me to swear that much, but it was cathartic for me.

swear a lot

Mostly, I just needed to vent. And another thing, working the same job as family members never goes well, I tried that with where my mom and my sis worked and there’s just this expectation that if they are great at something, you must be as well, and if not, then you’re a lazy loser and they are told about it…NOPE.

Ya know what I’d LOVE to do just for the sheer sleaziness that would embarrass my parents if they had to repeat my job? PORN SITE OPERATOR. It would make me giddy if they had to explain,”Oh, our daughter’s in internet porn…”

Muha ha ha ha. Whatever it takes to motivate me, and honestly, with overly critical heartless parents, sometimes your only victory is in embarrassing them. So if anyone knows of any ways to get into like foot fetish porn on line, I have a can of creamed corn, a camera, and big feet to slosh around in it. Yeah, I don’t know how anyone finds that a turn on.

As long as their credit card info is accurate, does it matter? A ghoul can dream…