Archive for lack of energy

Morgue, The T-Rex Puppet, and Fright Night

Posted in depression with tags , , , , , , , on May 25, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

After a humid wake-sleep-wake night, I finally got back to sleep at 4:30 a.m. ish. Only for my child to wake me at 6:40 a.m. Inwardly, I groaned and thought, well, fuck, so much for sleeping in for summer break…I couldn’t return to sleep because my brain came out of the gate, still stressed from a phone interaction with my father last night. He is turning the screws on me to get my old AC swapped out with the smaller but newer one and I tried to explain that the middle room is a mess, there’s no path to get to it, and the longer I wait, the lower my power bill. He got snotty and said he didn’t see the big deal and that I had better get it done while they, the important people, have the time to do it. Cos they are the ONLY ones special enough to yank an old unit and put in a new one. Odd how I made it the better part of 6 years at the trailer without their input or pressure.

I am still smarting from my psych nurse appointment and feeling so demoralized I want to quit my meds. If she is hell bemt on taking away the anti anxiety drugs and the anti depressant, there’s really no point. I have a lamictal and lithium stash that could last a year or two. If she takes me off the other meds, I will go down the rabbit hole. It happens EVERY time some well meaning but ignorant psych professional decided fewer meds are better. Of course, fewer meds is ideal. But I don’t have standard bipolar one so ideal is unlikely to ever occur in my lifetime. The lack of being treated as an individual with multiple diagnoses and a peculiar body processing chemistry of meds really gets me down. I know logically she’s my only option right now and blowing it off and dropping out only makes me look flaky, it does nothing to improve her shitty bedside manner. But she’s not hearing me so going in seems fucking pointless.

Between my dad, her, and the cats being out of food, I have been pretty low this morning. So low, I had to try to drag myself upward by acting goofy with the kittens and a dinosaur puppet. It made me laugh. Then of course I have to wonder, am I manic? am I losing it? Because God forbid anyone should simply be a kid at heart and be quirky. It’s gotta be a disorder or lack of medication. Society demands it.

That puppet came out of the trash after a neighbor moved, I just washed it up and used it to motivate Spook and her little friends to eat healthy snacks. It made them laugh so they must be mentally disordered.

I took a couple of pics yesterday of me not looking like a hag as a reminder that while depression of every kind is kicking my ass, I’m still a vibrant not hideous person.

And this is me with our kitten Fright Night.

Now the tough part that brings shame and yet…It is not technically for me and my own father won’t help so maybe a kind friend or reader might. It’s for our cats. They really are out of crunchy food and I really don’t have enough gas to get to town to buy my last $2 in food for them since no place in Armpit sells it. If someone would be so kind as to donate ten dollars via paypal it would get me a gallon of gas to get to town and money to buy enough cat food til Friday, or next Monday, never know when my check will come in. Obviously I would not be asking if it weren’t dire. I’d be willing to earn it if I lived close by to you and could walk dogs or clean house or whatever.
Me and Spook’s account is here,

Plus side, I tore into the middle room and shoved everything to the other side so now they can at least get to the window to swap out the AC.

I wonder how many guilt trips that ‘act of kindness’is going to bring upon me.

I may need more T-Rex puppet time.

They also have my daughter advising me where to work, as if I can just declare an interest and demand to be hired.

I am gonna need a whole puppet show.