Archive for mental health stigma

The Brambling Blues

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , , , on May 3, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I woke every hour on the hour. At 3:30 I said fuck it, got up, and then my sinus drainage started drowning me and choking me so I’ve been awake since. The Atarax doesn’t seem to be helping but that’s because it has to be taken every single day to function properly for my allergy and sinus problems. Psych nurse took me off of it because adding it to Xanax and Buspar would be ‘too sedating’. Bullshit. I just took 100 mg Atarax and 0.5 Xanax and I’m still bloody awake at 5:38 a.m. I wish it was too sedating, then I might actually get 5 solid hours of sleep at some point. Oh, uninterrupted sleep, my purple pegacorn…

I am starving but I don’t wanna feed myself. It really is too much effort to nuke some scrambled eggs.

I think that’s artifact of the last week with all the day and night dissonance. I am exhausted. My body is sore and aching and tired and I can’t recharge my battery so I just keep running on empty. And people are wondering why I am short tempered, easily irritated, and pissed off for seemingly no reason. I’m hormonal, I’m bipolar, and I am not getting restful sleep so hello, I am just plain worn out.

I will probably get the spawn off to school then check out a couple of addresses on the ‘city wide’ yard sale flyer. I have some coins so who knows, I might just find that quirky little item for a quarter that makes it all worthwhile. That is how I felt when I stopped at a yard sale back in 2017 and found my stuffed Freddy Krueger doll. You just never know.

maybe after that I can sleep. Oh, unlikely, my dad will be knocking on the door about dragging all the junk out of the shed to haul to the dumpster for city clean up. Most of the shit in here there was there when we moved in, the landlord should have hauled it all off. He never remembered to put a lock on the door, though, so I am back to trailer park living where I do my best to fix shit for myself cos it’s just easier.
Except our trailer is now a cute little house on a bucolic corner of Armpitopia.
Spook and I miss our trailer. You can take mom and spawn out of the trailer park but you can’t take the trailer park out of us. Awful as it could be there, it was our jam.Probably a good thing we were forced to move and get a house. I was apparently too complacent living in a shithole.
——
Well trained in shame…

I am really tired of being put on the spot constntly at every turn by people asking, “Where are you working?” or “Don’t you need to go to work?”
Part of it is my own poor self esteem because yes, I want to be well enough to work reliably and knowing I’m not there yet stings.
It’s also social stigma, though. People butting in when it’s none of their business even if they are well meaning.
This is why I think-pegacorn-al delusion it may be- I would prosper if I could work from home on the computer. This is my safe sane space and this is where I excel when not crippled with depression and anxiety. Getting my self esteem back by working from home would go a long way toward helping me heal and regain stability.
So you’re gonna have to forgive me if I keep carrying that work from home oegacorn torch. It’s kinda like finding Mr./Ms. Right: I cannot ever give up hope, hope is the only thing that keeps you going in this shit show called life.
—–
I had a stone cold panic attack awhiel ago…

I was trying to navigate a street which was packed with yard sale seeking cars and I had so little space to pass between a truck and car that I held my breath and closed one eye while my head began to spin in a dizzying fashion. It was semi shut down and all I could think was, is my insurance paid current?
Terrifying to lose control over your senses that way behind the wheel of a car. Insulting that people don’t think panic attacks are serious and damaging.
—–
I am sooo tired…

3 a.m. start makes for a very long morning. I’d like to get warm under blankies and take a nap but my dad has me on red alert for when he decides he wants to haul all that stuff from my shed…It’s like I can’t breathe because I am under his thumb. I am 46 year old woman who did not get enough rest, I should be entitled to a fucking nap without taking shit from him.
Reality isn’t that way, though.
—–
Playing nice with others…

Not my strong suit. I mean, I can do basic civility, hello, goodbye, please, thank you…But there’s this high school girl my kid knows and if I set foot outside in the morning while they are waiting for the bus, next thing I know she is in my yard, and talking to me. Not to my kid, to me. And I smile and play nice and occasionally I even get cocky and think, hey, I am rocking this forced socialization thing…
Mainly it makes me uneasy and want to stay inside, I have so little control over the rude family members constantly forcing their presence in my safe space. I need to be able to shy away and be my skittish self and not have it be some mortal rudeness wound to others.
Socializing is what keeps some people going. For me, it’s one more stressor that is my undoing.
——
Fugly fact…
my feet are so cold today that I am doing the unthinkable…
getting out my hideous thick green ugly socks. They are just so damn warm.
May 3 and I still can’t get warm, geesh, midwest, fuck you too.
======
I wanna be an orphan…

I had hot rollers in my hair and my dad called, said we’re moving the stuff from the shed, so I had less than 5 mins to get the curlers out and start dragging stuff from the shed. The whole time he was bitching at me for not going through the middle room and getting rid of everything (clothes, fine, but the glassware is fine and I wanna keep it), he just kept nagging and bitching and…Meanwhile, I dragged out 4 full size mattresses-4 box springs, and a queen mattress all by myself, then helped hoist them on the pick up and …he just kept griping. Not a ‘wow, you kicked some ass doing all that alone’. God forbid he ever give me an ounce of positive reinforcement.
And fuck me for even needing the positive reinforcement. Pathetic.
=—–
Armpit-ish?

Sooo rethinking my nicknaming of this place…which had nothing to do with this guy, I just…have an attitude toward small towns cos they have always had an attitude toward me.
“If you live in the Midwest, where else do you want to live besides Chicago? You don’t want to live in Cincinnati or Cleveland or, you know, these armpits of America.” So declared Stephen Moore, the man Donald Trump wants to install on the Federal Reserve’s Board of Governors, during a 2014 event held at a think tank called, yes, the Heartland Institute.
If I can’t call it Armpitopia anymore without linking myself to that douche…I am gonna need to put some thought into renaming it.
———
Spook…

has 5 appointments in town before my next check so to my chagrin, we’re still needing paypal donations to keep gas in the car and food in the fridge. Five or ten bucks may not seem significant to you, but for us, it can be the difference between having a good meal and making an appointment or going hungry and missing appointments.

paypal.me/MorgueAndSpook

—–
Yes…

I am tired of mentioning it as you are tired of hearing it.
Shame it’s not legal to threaten potential employers with weapons until they hire you for a job and you’re just at their mercy in spite of your best efforts. My latest rejection was for fast good biscuit maker on the rooster shift.
My self esteem needs crutches it is so hobbled.
—–
Apparently…

My neediness is wearing thing on everyone. I called a local church and emailed them about their personal needs pantry for toilet paper and such and they never replied. I think that’s their way of saying ‘get a job’. That’s not paranoia or persecution. There was an article in the newspaper last year where the church leaders were bragging proudly that 99% of people who used their pantry only needed to use it once.
Hitting it once every two years when the donor screws me on child support is apparently abusing the privilege. Holy hypocrisy, Batman, we’re only here if your needs are one time only.
—–
I am dreading…

the bridal shower for my nephew’s fiance Sunday. A day with the woo girls playing asinine games involving toilet paper wedding dresses sounds as appealing as a root canal without novacaine. I will go, I will smile, I will suck it up, but man , I really suck at this being a girl thing cos I’d rather go to a bachelor party at a strip club.
—–
If you don’t know what woo girls are…

you need to watch mor TV. Mainly, How I Met Your Mother.
—–
Craptastic…

mother’s day is coming up. I can’t afford to cook my mom her favorite meal and I no longer have a rose bush to pick flowers for her since Spook murdered my new one when we moved here…Frick. Best find some glitter glue and popsicle sticks and have the spawn get artistic for grandma’s gift.
Oh and there’s Memorial day, flowers for the depearted, then next month father’s day, then July 4th, then my kid’s birthday in August and school starting back up…Oh, dear, I am hyperventilating thinking about the neverending expense. I thought things might be looking up cos the Abilify stopped making me sick and has me feeling slightly less oppressed thus depressed…
Glitter glue for everyone’s gifts, damn it. Oh, wait, Spook took all my glitter glue…
—–
Ninja nap…

Exhaustion won out and I nodded off from 2:30 p.m. til 3:10. My kid is on rapidfire speech and my head hurts and I just want to get some decent sleep for a change so maybe I won’t be so…grumpus.
I also want a work from home job, a pet pegacorn, a kid who minds me, and a leprechaun. My grasp on reality grows more tenuous by the day though I prefer to think of it as having hope and dreaming big.
That’s my story and I am sticking to it.

paypal.me/MorgueAndSpook

Ya know, in case a leprechaun riding a pegacorn uses paypal…

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Topsy fricking Turvy

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , , , on April 30, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I just talked to my dad on the phone. I made a comment about how that animal kennel job is still posted but I haven’t even gotten a nibble. Then he pointed out that by the time I paid for gas (it’s 35 miles one way) and racked up miles on the car, it wouldn’t be profitable. I was still despaired to not even get a call or something. He actually validated me FOR THE FIRST TIME IN LIKE, EVER, and said, “You’ll find something eventually, you’ve just been out of the employment market for so long, it will take time.”

I thought I was gonna faint. Then I pondered if stepmonster was feeding him animal tranqs.

It was a nice change, don’t get me wrong, but it’s akin to Satan offering to install AC in Hell. It just doesn’t happen so when it does, it blows your mind.

I did not sleep well last night again but at least I slept some and got up this morning. More cold and gloom so my motivation is nil.

The Abilify gave me another skull crushing headache last night, the kind where even slivers of light make it throb worse, so I was laying in bed at 7:30 p.m with a thick blanket over me eyes. My daughter came in and told me I looked scary but, it wasn’t yet dark and even with my crypt-y dark room the hint of sunlight was causing me great agony. I hope this side effect goes away. It sucks.

I just realized I made a dentist appointment for Spook tomorrow after school since i missed her six month check up- and my check won’t come til Thursday so…I am gonna have to reach out.

Anyone spare $20 for gas and some cat food?

paypal.me/MorgueAndSpook

That is our paypal direct deposit.

I offered to take my brother to work and walk the dogs to earn the money from my dad but he said they don’t need help and they don’t ‘have the money’, told me to cancel the appointment and reschedule. Without 24 hour notice, insurance gets billed then I catch hell from them…

So, um, yeah…We would be super grateful. Anything leftover I’d use to buy stamps, there are some job openings with her school for next school year but you have to submit an actual letter of interest through the mail. I think I could be a lunch lady or bus monitor. Though as usual, that damn misdemeanor on my record will likely bite me on the ass. I can still try and hope, though.

To everyone who has been so kind to us, thank you a million times. I truly am sorry that I keep asking to raise funds for stuff that is my own baggage. My dad is constantly making comments about ‘at least I don’t go expecting handouts’. A friend once told me the fundraisers weren’t asking for a handout, they were asking friends to help you in a tough situation where your best efforts have failed to let you help yourself.

I’m gonna go with what she said.

I am still looking to work from home. So desperate I signed up for ‘take surveys from home to earn money’ and now it’s fucking Spam city.

Next month is mental health awareness month so prepare to hear all about it and also, the end stigma commercials for those who don’t grasp mental illness. Let’s all mention that as much as possible during the month of May in an effort to educate and spread the word. Maybe if there wasn’t such stimga I’d already have been hired for a job by now. Mentally disordered doesn’t mean useless or dangerous. Let’s work together to drive that point home and become warriors in this battle.

Ya know, if everyone can stop watching and talking about Game Of Thrones long enough;)

I only said that cos my sister texted me at 9 last night and told me she needed a Xanax cos GOT was too fucking good and she was getting too hopped up and yelling at the TV.

I don’t get it but to each their own. I’m pretty sure I’ve gone bonkers for several shows that way. I just can’t remember right now with the gloom goggles on.

paypal.me/MorgueAndSpook

Mental Illness:Telling People What They Want To Hear

Posted in bipolar disorder, depression, mental illness, Uncategorized with tags , , , , on April 10, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Seems daily I am asked, ‘How are you?’ I know *most* are merely being polite. But the stigma of mental health issues makes the innocuous,polite question seem like a landmine to me. Especially with family and friends who refuse to grasp the gravity of depression,bipolar,anxiety,etc. I find myself selling the ‘I’m fine’ line 24-7. Experience has taught me to bottle it up because empathy won’t be forthcoming.

How sad a statement about the human race is it that those with mental health issues have to LIVE A LIE so those around them don’t have to feel uneasy?

Even this blog often forces me to stuff down my true feelings (you didn’t know I was holding back,didja?). I hate having to think if my writing is gonna ‘trigger’ someone to self harm or not. Hate having to label something as a potential trigger,much as I understand why it’s not just polite but necessary. Guess I lack the self confidence to believe my lowly words could inspire people for good or bad. But words do have consequences.

That being said…

TRIGGER WARNING.

Yesterday had me seriously close to that precarious edge. Everything with the state insurance is all fucked up so all that anxiety on my kid and the cost of gas into town only to find out even dental has changed and her doctor isn’t covered….was a waste.

Dejected would be a mild term for how I felt.

Still I faked it through a playdate for Spook and got her to bed,then curled up in Fort Blankie myself. I was further crushed by the expected call back from the shrink’s office,saying to increase the Effexor by 37.5 mg for another week cos insurance won’t pay for another med til I max out on this one.

Are you fucking kidding me?

I didn’t have the nards to tell her I upped my dose that much last week and instead of feeling better or at least the same…I feel worse. I did mention feeling worse,just not my self prescribed increase. But zero fucks are given. The insurance company is now part of the hindrance of me getting adequate mental healthcare.

Meanwhile, I sink down the rabbit hole more and more and feel life slipping away.

Which leads to SPLAT and feelings of worthlessness and yes..wanting to end it all.

It was suicidal ideation I fell asleep with last night. Because I can’t deal with all the insurance problems and more expenses than income while not in my right mind but some insurance company says I’m on hold til I max out on a med that’s not helped an iota in 5 weeks…

It feels futile.

At least the blackened mood lifted to dark charcoal gray today. I still feel like I am nearing the end of my frayed rope,but unlike last night,I’m not as scared I will act on those feelings.

Still…when you have to postpone venting your feelings out of fear they could trigger someone…

It feels like my entire identity and voice are being censored and muted by every faction of my life.

I guess it’s karma for every time I tell people what they want to hear and say I am fine.

If you have a voice and don’t use it,you lose it.