Archive for mental health

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.


I’ve got nothing…again

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

I keep ‘rebooting’ my brain, thinking tomorrow has got to be different, that I have GOT to snap into action and get some shit done.

Nope. I got nothing. Again.

Just feeding myself a TV dinner was an undetaking but I am glad I did it, I was starting to feel nauseated and headachey, which happens when I go too long without eating a proper meal. Least now I don’t have a grumbling belly and I don’t feel wonky-sickly.

I do feel crampy and achey, though, the wind up of my monthly PMDD. For those unfamiliar with this term, think PMS on stereoids and meth with an anger management issue that lasts 2 weeks a month, including physical pain.

Deep down I know I’d feel better if I got shit done.

Surface says, zero fucks given.

This is depression. My meds are so fucked up, courtesy of an inexperienced, inept nurse practitioner. I should have pitched a fit to simply go off the Abilify. I should have fought for myself.

The woman does not bring out the best in me. It’s my bad.

Trying to write with the mom mom mom monster on high speed is not working for me.

Maybe tomorrow will be better. Fighting these blah states is futile. I am just going to ride it out. Like I have the choice of opting out. That is reserved for those around me who aren’t strong enough to handle bits and pieces of what I live 24-7. I feel justified in being disdainful toward them, considering the crap they throw my way simply because they can’t bring themselves to accept that mental illness is a real disability.

Two wrongs don’t make a right, but it keeps me from smacking ’em with shovels.


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

NOT a typo. I am flustered and frustrated thus FLUSTRATED. I am big on hybrid words like panxiety. Sometimes a single word doesn’t do it justice and I need an extra.

Frustrated because in my mind I can see myself doing all the stuff that needs done. I WANT to get it done,I do. But my body feels aching and bruised and moving around just feels…unsafe. Plus I go to do something and forget where I was in the process so I just get mad and say screw it.

Flustered because I had a kid free night last night and ya know what I did? Nothing. I can’t even say I got drunk and passed out. I watched Dateline and 20/20 and ate frozen lasagna and zonked before ten p.m. Thrill a minute, I am. I thought I might get a second wind or something, write, clean, et al. Nope, that did not happen.

So again I wake up to biohazard level 5 (maybe a 4, but if you’re against clutter and dust, it’s a 5 to you neatniks) and again, I have no energy, no clarity.

Yesterday we had a tornado warning. My kid was in town at camp and they were supposed to be on the road in the bus at the time so I was less in a panic to get myself and the cats to shelter than worrying that hopefully they kept the kids there and didn’t set off in the storm…I normally don’t freak during these things. But not having my kid with me, that got to me.

The sad thing is at one point I was almost hoping for an F5, rip off the roof, trash everything, so we can just start fresh. How terrible is that? But I am so clusterfucked in the brain, I don’t feel like I am ever gonna dig myself out from under the winter depressive avalanche of shit left undone, and continuing into summer.

That NP fucked me by not changing me to a different drug. She took my back down on Abilify even though the side effects remain at that dose and I make zero progress for the next six weeks. She fucked me. I grow to loathe her more with each appointment. I grow to loathe the center each appointment for hiring her and keeping her. Just the way she refills shit willy nilly so I get too much of discontinued meds or not enough of needed stuff, that should be enough incompetence to at least make her be supervised more closely. But no, they need help so bad, she could have salt and pepper, a fork, and a newborn eating it in the lobby and they wouldn’t want to speak up. That’s sad. They’ve fucked me, too.

I am just pity party Patti today, ain’t I.

Well, feeling frustrated and flustered will lead to that sort of thing. Not feeling like any direction you move results in accomplishment of any sort, feeling like movement will bring on bad juju, all this distortion and darkness and lack of functionality…it puts you in a dark place. And if your professional is more concerned with herding you in and out quickly like chattle, what can you do? Keep looking for someone who takes primary and secondary coverage but it’s not as easy as you think. The wait list alone-before you find out they don’t take your primary or secondary, let alone both, is mind boggling. Man, mental illness is the new pandemic.

The economy is strong, though, so fuck the fact that people suddenly all want to off themselves because they are so depressed by what the country has become.

I don’t even need to mention the dreaded ‘p’ word. Because it isn’t abpout dem or republican or any of that.

The poor get poorer, the rich get richer, nothing has fucking changed, and if you’re mentally ill to boot, you can’t even get proper treatment with insurance. What isn’t depressing there.


I’m going to go back to cursing myself for having dust bunnies, focusing on bigger issues just makes me want to gargle razor blades.

Another Blessed Hell Ride On The Hellscape In The Hellmouth

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , on June 19, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

The NP spent 5 minutes with me. I asked to lower the Abilify to five mg, she said, no ten. I asked to have my wellbutrin raised back up, she said no, let’s do one thing at a time, see you in 6 weeks. Last month her and the student nurse jacked up my Lamictal, lowered my Wellbutrin, and raised my Abilify so that was 3 changes at once.

What the actual fuck, lady?

The akathisia is driving me bonkers but I went ahead and took the Abilify today, the 15 mg, because I wanted them to see just how bad it was. I don’t think she cares. Not that I ever had any delusions about that anyway. Maybe next month when I get my audience with the benzo nazi director of nursing/docs, she will hear me out more adequately. Though if she’s a ‘toss the baby out with the bathwater’ type like she is with the benzos, she may be worse than the NP. At least she tries to be polite. Not exactly pleasant but that could just be her personality. And the RN’s and receptionists are wonderful so again, it’s baby and the bathwater. If I can hang on til they set up telepsych…But that’s been six months and no sign of it coming to fruition so…

I hate ‘interviewing’ for psych doctors. It’s such bullshit. You have openings, you take insurance, what is the fucking problem? They run a credit check even if every cent is covered by insurance? That call your former docs for references and decide your case is too difficult or you’re just a malingerer?

At least the support staff knows me well and is supportive. Though that should be the nurse’s job. I just wanted away from her. Polite but cold does not work for me in bedside manner. And her back was to me the whole time, again, while she clacked on the computer. Every other doctor will take notes or wait til the final five minutes to enter notes. Not these nurses, they clack the whole time you’re there because god knows in ten minutes they will forget what you’ve just told them. I am disgusted by the situation and yet, I am loyal to the center. They helped me when no one else did and I don’t think two bad apple NPs should rob me of that.

What can I say, I am stubborn.

I am going to work on a bath today, it’s been 4 days. I vaccuumed and put a load of laundry in. I am mostly just relieved I don’t have to see that nurse for 6 weeks. But I am NOT gonna make it on 10mg so maybe I will try the pill cutter and do 5mg, as a mythbuster. If it helps, then I will be calling them and telling them NOPE, I cannot do this.

And while the last couple of posts have been themed with the word ‘hell’…truth is, after the Taylor Swift bubblegummy song, I really needed to work some metal in and The Blessed Hellride is Black Label Society so…metal as fuck. But still….people do need to calm down and stop being homoohobes and bigots so…I’m gonna give Taylor Swift music a shot. Though “Me” is just too squeaky for me. I prefer “Delicate.”

I also prefer Wednesday 13’s “I want you dead.” I’m a ghoul scout.


Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , on June 17, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

My kid and I have been rocking this all day.

We are absolutely pro LGTBQ and all other lifestyles, choice or born or whatever idiots say is the reason for being part of the LGBTQ community. Personally, I don’t recall choosing to be bicurious but mostly straight. It just IS.

People who are not on board are ignorant, cruel, and not wanted in our space.

That ain’t the depression or anxiety talking. Taylor Swift’s music ain’t on this metal chick’s menu but….the woman has some loyalty and class and I RESPECT THE HELL OUT OF THAT.

I was supported the community in the 90’s here in Podunk, because I believe you can love who you are driven to love.

Join in the tolerance and positivity or get out. Nuff said.


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.