Archive for insomnia

404:Will To Live Not Found

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , on June 24, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I’m up and dressed, what more do you want?

I was a raging bitch beast to my kid this morning because she keeps doing the same stupid things I tell her not to, ya know, being a fucking kid, and instead of being irritated, I felt white hot anger. It wasn’t til a half hour later I realized the anger was not proportional, entirely, to the crime. I am hormonal. PMS on stereoids, courtesy of my body’s own fucked up hormonal rages. I apologized to her more than once, profusely, and tried to explain but she had already moved on by then. Mommy being upset took a back seat to babbling about friends and toys. Thankfully, I guess. Though I know my grudge holding spawn, it will eventually come back to bite me on the ass, no matter how effusive the apologies.

I was wakened briefly after six by an incoming text. Instant panic. But it was a good text, telling me we are now getting child support. The amount is greatly reduced but so are his hours and wages, something is better than nothing. At least he has been held accountable financially. About all she is ever going to get out of him, it seems. Maybe she’s better off. Someone who goes through a job, gf, and home every year or two is less stable than me. He likes nomadic life. Enjoyed being homeless. Definitely not the better parent here. I made sure she has a home even to my own detriment. My needs come in dead last. He wouldn’t know what it’s like putting someone else that far ahead of himself. Even his seemingly selflessness has an agenda. I lived it. He was all about love if he was in like with me, but if not…I was one of the window lickers. Class AF, the donor.

To my credit, I just thought he was a denial laden emotionally broken man child from the word go. I never wavered when we were together or apart. It’s either a gift or a curse, seeing people for what they are in spite of how I want them to be. That includes myself. Whereas others view me as this mouthy badass bitchbeast, I know deep down, that fierceness is only a rebellious streak. I’m pretty docile and avoid confrontation. Like going to my favorite store now that he is working there. I just…can’t. I went there three times and he was only working the one time, for all I know he quit or got fired again. He isn’t ever going to change, though the fact he can get fired over and over and still get management positions with bad references in such a small town, that attests to how good a liar and how gifted he is with the fake sincerity. Good for my kid, I guess, he’s supporting her half ass. Wish my responsibility ended at $55 a week.

No, actually, I don’t. The reward is in watching her grow up, evolve, become more mature, and living vicariously through her zest for life. That’s worth a lot more than money. But the responsibility is crushing at times, any parent who says otherwise is in deep deep denial. Being so responsible for another person’s existence when you can barely manage your own rudimentary existence…that is terrifying and it takes one hella strong person to do it.

I’m still not feeling this life thing. I ran a couple of errands and cleaned my laundry room/cat box area, but beyond that, I haven’t done much. I got one of agonizing stress stomach aches and had to lay flat for the better part of a half hour. Hate that shit, but thankfully it only happens once or twice a month, to that extent. You just learn to live with the gut goblins after awhile. It doesn’t add to the quality of life, that’s for sure. It’s just survival.

The biggest joy in my life these days are the days I don’t take Abilify and when we watch Rob Gavagan’s videos on youtube. He has strange stuff, crime stuff, plus some humor, he’s just funny as hell. He has the personality and charisma I wish I had but simply do not. I don’t agree with everything he says but he never says anything in a way I can’t push it aside and still like him. That’s rare. He makes me and Spook both laugh with his ‘why would you put that on the internet’ series. Making fun of social media fucktards is hysterical. These people either know how ridiculous they are or they are blissfully clueless. I simply cannot fathom anyone being that stupid or unaware, even someone with a detriment so severe they have to wear a helmet. And I would never make fun of the legitimately mentally disabled. But chicks showing pictures of what came out in their pee or people talking about how seeking attention on social media is idiotic, then asking for attention….

Those people make me feel pretty damn good about myself.

Which in the current depressive mental hellscape is no small feat.

If you do check him out, be warned. He swears a lot in some videos, like me, so avoid if that gets your panties in a bunch. We wouldn’t want to hurt anyone’s fucking fragile feelings. Or would we…That’s the thing with Rob, even when he’s being offensive, you don’t exactly feel offended, just amused.

Yeah, 404 is about right today. But as long as I can find some Rob Gavagan videos, all is not lost. There is always someone out there more pathetic than my depressed ass and they don’t even have mental illness to explain it.


Tomorrow is The Blessed Hellride Known as My Psych Nurse Appointment

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , on June 18, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

If you’ve read any of today’s posts then you know I am struggling, big time. Depression, panic attacks, anxiety, insomnia. I thought I had a week of grace prior to my next appointment with the hellish psych nurse. They called today to remind me I see her at 10 tomorrow morning. So whatever hopes I had of tomorrow being better than today mental health wise are shot. I’d like to be positive and give the benefit of the doubt but how many times does the same thing have to happen before you ‘get it’, this is how it is, it ain’t getting any better.

I never did nap today. I took my Abilify today and immediately the squirming and twitching started up. No Abilify, none of that crap. But I doubt she will go for rempving it from the mix. Her agenda has been made clear. Get me stable on as few meds as possible and shuttle me off. Talking to her back has gotten old. But I hanging in there because next month I get my one and done audience with the directing psych doc and I really would like an opportunity to address my concerns with her since she is the NP’s overseer. I don’t hold out too much hope it would change anything, but I’d like the chance to try. Cockeyed optimism.

I am still stewing from free floating anxiety. I heard a lawnmower earlier and all I could feel was my gut clenching, praying it was NOT my dad’s crew coming to save the neighorhood from my ugly lawn with their OCD lawnmowing fetish. It made me so jittery I was afraid to get up and leave my room lest it be them and they spot me through a window then drag me out to get dragged under by their well meaning but toxic nehativity. Well intentioned people are the bane of my existence. You can’t really hate ’em for trying to be kind even if they fail miserably, but you can’t just be their welcome mat and let them poison you over and over. It’d be so much easier if they were just ill will toting jerks.

It’s 6 p.m. Couple more hours and I will mercifully be able to take cover of darkness and fort blankie and hopefully sleep the sleep of the dead for most of the night. If it works, then I am going to start pondering 22 hour days more often. Worth the suffering if it results in restorative rest.

I am ready to shut off my brain for awhile. It’s battered and bloodied and needs a break. Days ike today put it through the effing shredder.

Day,Night,Morning, Whatever, Too Tired To Care

Posted in anxiety, insomnia with tags , , , , on June 18, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I would like very much to solidify some sort ‘sleep pattern’, as in go to bed at a certain time every night, get up at the same time every day. But you know that is damn near impossible when insomnia has you so twisted that you take sleep whenever it comes, schedule be damned. Except now I feel damned because I zonked at 7:30 last night after Spook did, and I slept until 1 a.m.

I have been up since then and it’s now 5:35 a.m.

It’s still dark out but the birds are chirping. Day? Night? Dawn? Dusk? I don’t know anymore.

I do know that I am just plain exhausted.

I thought some of the financial stress alleviating would equal instant insomnia cure. I mean, that is what the shrinks and counselors all say. You can’t sleep because you’re stressing about money. Now I’m not stressing (as much) but sleep is still giving me the middle finger.

I have to get Spook up in two hours and drag my ass to town to drop her at daycamp. I need to get groceries. That was supposed to be on Monday but since she wasn’t feel well enough to go to camp, I didn’t go to town.Last night before impromptu crash, I thought I’d get a bath, get a good night’s sleep, and be ready to tackle the supermarket after I dropped her off.

The thought of battling lines and people and budgets and getting everything we need so I don’t need to make extra trips…It’s stressing me out. And I don’t have the energy for it.

So much for my mental health issues being cured by a little influx of cash. That was an epic bucket of fail.

Like trying to type with a cat walking across the keyboard, grrr. Why do they and the spawn always want my attention ONLY when I am on the computer? I can sit here for hours not touching the computer, staring off into space, and nothing. Pick up the laptop, oh, now suddenly they need my individed attention and will stomp the keyboard to get it.

This irritability is artifact of the fucked up sleep cycle. Had I gotten five and a half straight hours during the actual night, I’d probably be ok. But waking at 1 a.m. and not being able to go back to sleep…I’m sludge for the day. Best I can hope for might be to come back home and sleep but then I get day sleep guilt. Long story, but let’s just say it ties back to my first husband working 12 hour graveyard shifts and his mother riding my ass because I got to sleep at night and he didn’t. He had that job before he met me, ffs. That woman did a number on my head even 25 years later.

Why do I let people get under my skin like that? Probably because I am too damn tired to swat them away like the insect-y pests they are. And I am tired of being tired. Tired of talking about it but it plays a huge role in what tone my posts take so it’s not without relevance.

Back to youtube and a documentary on witchcraft. I’m desperate enough to turn to witchcraft if it’d help my mental issues but sadly, it’d just make me look lock down crazy as opposed to desperate for sleep.

I hate days that are shit right out of the gate based only on not getting proper rest. Instead of witch craft, maybe I should just become a pothead. All the cool kids are doing it. My state is even try to pass recreational use right now.

Not sure I am willing to lose 50 IQ points just to get some sleep, though.

I wonder if CBD oil would help…Shit is expensive, though.

Grr, back to witch craft. Burning at the stake is much more pleasant than dealing with mental health issues at this hour.


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

My 4 hour nap yesterday evening equaled being awake, tossing and turning, agitated by spinning thoughts, until almost 5 a.m. I slept an hour here, got up, nodded off for an hour there, then another hour. Three hours sleep, tops, but in interrupted segments it may as well have been no sleep. Another gloomy day has my mood in the gutter and the lack of real rest has me feeling shaky. I don’t know how to explain it except mounting panxiety. Over what? A trip to town to fetch my kid and maybe a stop at one or two stores for batteries and laundry soap.

It baffles me how random anxiety is. This is something I do once a week at least usually, go to town for supplies, yet today it feels like this ominous throbbing event of doom. I loaded up on anti anxiety sane makers but they are not really helping alter the mind frame. It feels…ominous. I wish to god I could explain why. The doctors and counselors always want to know WHY so they can shove mindfulness down your throat. Well, newsflash. Real anxiety disorders don’t have a why. It is random and grueling. It makes you feel unsettled, rattled, and weak. When feeling this way, the last thing you want to do is go face the petri dish of humanity and traffic because you already feel like the soft underbelly is on display for predators to attack.

It sounds nuts, I know. It is sadly my reality.

Hopefully the naggies will let up, the anxiety will die down, and I can just go get done what I need to get done and get home without incident. I’ve had the bad juju thoughts before. Sometimes warranted, other times asinine. I never know what it’s going to be until I venture out and face the gauntlet.

It would be so much less self loathing if I ever read other blogs that discuss such free floating anxiety and paranoia and mounting panic. But I don’t. I don’t think people even in mental health section care to discuss mental health, which turns in into a early 2000’s yahoo chat room. Very disheartening. I just want to know it’s not only me, that these thoughts aren’t exclusive to me. It is starting to look like they are, though, which means my brand of fucked up just metastasized and I feel more alone than ever. Especially with an unsupportive and apathetic NP who just wants to get me medicated and out from under her feet, using as few meds as possible, never mind how I am really doing.

Mental health issues are the cruelest cut of all because it’s not enough to just feel these whacked out terrifying thoughts…you have to do it alone, all on your own, without any support system or commiseration.

That makes life lonely even for a loner who finds socialization too stressful and challening. I just want to know that I am not alone on this one.


Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , on June 15, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Well, I need to give myself a time out because I just had a screaming mimi. On the cats. In my world, there is only one aspect in which the cats are forbidden and that is when they start fucking with my computer equipment. When they managed to miraculously hit the power strip and shut it off, I started screaming GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT and banned them then sat and seethed, feeling like a monster. Obviously my 4 hour nap this evening while Spook is sleeping over at her grandma’s did not do much to improve my mental state. But I was awake four times during the night so it’s not like I was well rested to begin with and these wet gray days drag me under the surface.

My sister called and I keep my cell phone volume down so I missed the calls. My kid told her I was probably sleeping. That made me feel shitty and I don’t even know why. If you don’t sleep well at night, does it not make perfect sense to nap and sleep when you can? Especially when you are kid free? But no, I felt like dirt because while not zonked at that time, I was heading that way. I made the mistake of taking a relaxing bath and it just made me chill. So she was forced to call my home phone and then asked me an asinine question. Is it okay if they take Spook to the store where the donor is working?

I can’t fathom why it wouldn’t be okay. I never banned her from his old public job my sister went to for her ecig supplies. People must think we are fragile or something. I proved right out of the gate when I faced the devil the other morning that not even Donor D Dumbfuck is gonna rob me of my favorite store. Not to mention we like shopping there, not just cos it’s cheap. I guess I should give my sis points for asking, just in case I did have some effed up mood swing and didn’t want my kid going there.

Now I am awake but feeling half dead. It’s humid as hell. I tried listening to music but I got two songs in and it just made me anxious. Man, that’s been going on for 4 years now and NONE of these doctors can do shit to help me. I try to immersion therapy but it does more harm than good. Two songs and I had to return to video because much as I love music, my barely there xanax dose does not assist with the anxiety it causes.

I am having problems with this day/night interrupted sleep cycle. I got confused today when dad fetched Spook to take her to town to my mom’s and thought it was time for my brother to go to work instead of time for them to pick up so they had to tell me, hey, he’s not in the car. Yeah, well, if you didn’t have tinted windows, you hillbilly gangsters, I’d have been able to see that. My brain is becoming mush. The swiss cheese is melting into a pile of gooey mush. If I can’t even get my times of day straight, I’d say my cognitive abilities are severely hampered by this shit sleep cycle. If it can be called a cycle. It’s more like ninety minute cat naps three times a night and I see more of the night than I care to. Because I used to be able to enjoy music and write but now it just causes me anxiety. GRRRRR

Not to pile on the negative but I am also in reflux agony and I took fucking Pepcid.

I know it’s not as bad as all that, the cats just pissed me off by fucking with my most precious possessions and I get paranoid they will fry my equipment. I’d kind of like to keep what I have even if most of it is older and outdated. Think living so long at the trailer with all of its outlets blowing from the shit wiring has left me scarred and terrified one hard shut down is going to fry my only outlet in the bedroom.

Now I am going to go apologize to the cats. Man, I hate when my anger gets the better of me and I have tantrums. At least Spook wasn’t here to see it. That grudge holding cutie pie is brutal. She can have ten tantrums daily but if I get fed up once a month, well, bad mommy.

Maybe mommy just went too long without a good rant and needed to vent anyway. That and the cats are little furry monsters of destruction.

Ready for the Sandman to Enter

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

Yeah, I had to go with that title as Metallica’s “Enter Sandman” was the last song playing on the car before we got home. It is fitting right now. I can’t remember the last time I was up past midnight, honestly. Not without having slept an hour or so before. I figured I’d drop like lead after a high anxiety day. No such luck. I doubled my melatonin and nothing. My brain is terrified. Frozen in fear while racing at the same time. Just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Because inevitably it always does. This is how unaccustomed I am to having good things happen. That when they do happen, I am petrified of what comes next because my experiences have not been positive.

Oh, well, what’s a little more insomnia if it means I won’t be up at 6 a.m. simply because the light pierced my retinas.

I managed a bath, and it was overdue, if only for the fact my hair was like a greasy mop. I don’t get it. I have used hair dye since I was 12, my hair should be fried and dry, not greasy after two days. My body keeps rewriting history and going against logic. I never used to have such oily hair but I guess much like unwanted body hair I didn’t used to have to contend with, now in my older age, I get all these junk dna age related gifties from hell.

Spook went to sleep before 10. Turns out if I just let her run herself down she will declare it bedtime and go on her own. Though she doesn’t usually put up too much of a fight. Once it gets dark, she seems to get sleepy and it makes bedtime easier. The mornings, though, oh, wow, we had war this morning and it’s not even school year. She is just an evil little wench in the mornings no matter how much sleep she gets. I relate, I am not a morning person, either. Usually. I have always been nocturnal but since spawning, I am just tapped out by 8 p.m. and I need the reboot, so I feel most recharged first thing in the mornings-after I get my caffeine level up. This is totally rewriting history on my body’s part. I find it annoying.

Saturday is going to be a combo housekeeping/vegetation day. I know she gets bored being home every weekend but I made 6 trips to town this week and I am trafficked out. I cannot deal with the road morons, I need a respite. Maybe we will go for free ferris wheel rides Sunday or something. Unless my family decides they have plans for her and I get outvoted. Not that alone time is ever a bad thing but I do get tired of everyone else doing all the fun stuff with her and I am stuck being the bad guy, telling her to eat a fruit, clean her room, take a bath. Argh. It’s part of the mom gig but it would be a nice balance if occasionally I got to do fun stuff with her.

She is, I am finding, good for my self esteem. I had this effed up dream last year that I was aboard the Titanic and it sank to the bottom of the ocean and I swam back to the surface and…the only other survivor was my dad. She wants me retell it over and over and she just laughs and tells me how awesome my voice is and how funny I am and she wants me to tell it again, again. I’m getting something right with my kid, alert the presses.

Though it was one of the sleep paralysis dreams so I truly felt like I was drowning so her joy at making me relive it repeatedly is curious.

I had another one of those paralysis dreams last night, it just seemed so real. I was getting sick in my dream and when I finally managed to escape it, I came to all but barfing on my pillow. Gross, yes, but it’s reality. A dream so real you wake up choking and drooling as you were when still asleep…Freaky stuff.

Okay, I guess I need to parent myself and shut off the screens. Or one of them, anyway. I don’t sleep well with silence. pfft, I don’t sleep well period, but I am optimistic that this could change. Now since I am delusional, I am gonna go feed my pegacorn and shine its hooves.

It’s Okay To Be Depressed and Do Nothing

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , on June 13, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

After a bumpy night of sleep and wake and sleep and wake…I was not feeling rested or motivated. I did not see myself accomplishing much today. I felt guilty and crappy about it but I just decided to take the advice a former counselor gave me…set two small goals then give yourself permission to feel depressed.

By doing this and setting the small goal of cleaning cat boxes and cleaning up the bathroom…somewhere the energy and motivation to do dishes and fold 5 baskets of laundry and put it away appeared. Now I feel accomplished, and I don’t feel guilty for ‘doing nothing’.

That, by the way, is a falsehood. Every day we survive life with depression, we are successful. Every time we get out of our pajamas and put on clean clothes, that is a positive step. Any time we get our bills paid and go out to run errands and get groceries or whatever…success. We are not ‘doing nothing’. We are tending to our psychic wounds and listening to when our bodies and minds tell us we have hit a wall.

Beating your head against that wall isn’t ‘pulling yourself up by the bootstraps’. It is not ‘making an effort’.It is self defeating and adds to depression and anxiety.

So if you find yourself in a depressed mind space and feel overwhelmed by what needs done…give yourself permission to feel that way. If you manage to brush your teeth by days’ end, call it a win. And don’t let naysayers, doubters, and well meaning but ignorant people tell you that you’re letting the depression win. You’re letting your mind and body guide you to doing what is within your capabilities at that time. Some days, it’s the biggest success we can have. Surviving.

Anyone who says otherwise is ignorant and negative to your mental health.