Archive for mental illness


Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , on July 21, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Psych professionals make mention frequently of compartmentalization. They, of course, utilize this concept in a healthy, proper way, as opposed to the compartmentalization, say, a sociopath would utilize. It’s sort of like this society driven division, not of personality, but of behaviors that are acceptable in certain situations. Of course, at work, you are going to be professional and work hard and whatever else your position requires of you. At church, you might genuinely believe or be a hypocrite and fake being pious and a believer. At a party, you might drink too much, or get too loud with the dirty jokes or bubbly personality. With your kids, you will be firm, loving, and consistent.

This is a healthy, normal thing, as long as it is all well balanced.

With the level of mental illness I am currently experiencing, it has ceased to be healthy compartmentalization and become a splintered psyche of insecurity, fear, paranoia, sadness, frustration, and a complete upheaval of every solid personality trait of positivity I’ve ever possessed.

I feel fractured on a daily basis. I never know if I am going to feel up and strong, or determined and energetic, or if I am going to be in that meek, terrified paranoid space where everything is perceived as threat and I can’t make sense of the alphabet even though I know it by heart but…I’m unable to organize my thoughts and recall it correctly.

This is compartementalization, exploded. I no longer have the luxury of solid little behavioral blocks, knowing how to behave in X situation versus Y situation. I no longer have the clarity to know right from wrong because it’s become so subjective, so fluid, and prey to my varying levels of mental illness. Parts of me have even started to reject traditional ideas 0of right and wrong, which isn’t exactly new for me, I’ve always rebelled against ‘the norm’ but I am in this place where “is it wrong to steal a loaf of bread” has become a confused multi part question of, “Is it to feed your kids? Because stealing is wrong but if you did it because your kid was starving, well, that’s different motivation than doing it for a thrill.” And I believe whole heartedly that like felony charges, intent should count toward misdemeanors. And it doesn’t matter if I am right or wrong or if polite society and the law agree, this is my mental space. I CANNOT DISCERN RIGHT FROM WRONG PROPERLY WITHOUT IT LEADING TO CONFUSION.

Killing someone? Wrong. But hey, were they trying to kill you first? Were you in fear for your life? Did they threaten you and you got tired of looking over your shoulder and just panicked to end the fear?


One day I am extroverted and make an effort to interact.

The next day I feel everyone is out to get me and like a threatened, cornered animal, I am on red alert, ready to slash out with words or claws or an inflatable orca.

And these mental states are so damn real, so convincing, that even when I am trying to convince myself it’s all irrational and distortion and mental illness…I’m not buying into the self pep talks anymore. I want to because deep down I know it’s logical. My current level of illness does not care about logic.

One thing I had going for me my whole life was that I could to an extent compartmentalize enough to ‘fake it’ for jobs, for social events, for family get togethers, for basic polite society.

Now I am so disturbed that it’s a perpetual struggle trying to put all the splintered pieces of myself back together enough to regain ‘me’.

I am not insane.

But I am battling a very severe bout with my disorders right now and my judgment is severely impaired, my logic MIA. Beyond the bare minimum to care for my child and keep the bills covered…I got nothing. No thoughts for the future, no hopes, no joy. Anhedonia has become the only constant in my life. That and paranoid paralyzing panic.

I feel like a shattered mirror and no super glue can put the shards back together to give anything but a splintered reflection.

May this be a temporary situation. If this is the new norm, I’m not gonna make it out alive.


The Motherlode Of Problems

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

My daughter made a new male friend here in town, close to her age. He has some learning/developmental delays and does not have many friends. He isn’t entirely unpleasant. He is, however, spoiled rotten on a materialistic level, fussy, and demanding. Qualities that are a trigger for me. I let her go play at his house last night since his mom was nice enough to drop by and ask her over. When they returned her, however, there was talk of his birthday party-the same weekend we have planned Spook’s party. Then he really crossed a line with me and said, “What are you getting me? Is it electronics? Video games? It better not be books or something cheap.” And his mom just stood there, not saying a word, not even looking horrified. Spook tried to explain that we don’t have much money but for a kid with 3 ipads, a $100 Minecraft Fathead wall mural, a 50 inch TV, every gaming system, et al…Our money problems mean nothing to him. And I noted when Spook said her birthday was right around that time, he didn’t offer her any fancy gifts. And again, this seemingly relaxed nice well off mom just stood there, allowing him to be so demanding, rude, and disrespectful.

I am triggered. I spent 2 hours seething last night because I can’t compete with this family’s financial means. Nor will I compete with their materialistic ‘buy the kid all the stuff’ mentality. He got an Alexa, now my kid wants one. I am not keen on artificial intelligence invading my network, it’s too easily hacked, it stores too much personal info on the user, and she’s just not mature enough for this device. I pondered one for myself until I saw all the security risks, the danger of kids giving away too much info inadvertently and it being collected, and I was just like…NOPE. Now this kid has her wanting one and she’s manipulating me saying, “You say I ask too many questions, I could just ask Alexa.” Then she would give out her personal info, when we are home or gone, all the possessions we own, and it could lead to burglary and…

I sound like a nutter, don’t I? I guess when you’ve had one break in where TVs and computers were stolen, you become a little paranoid and wary. We never got our stuff back. The cops barely cared to take a report. It was 6 years ago and I still have issues trusting the house to be unlocked even with us here. In Podunk. I’d say the burglary burned new neural pathways for me and made me even more untrusting. But I hear horror stories about people posting or submitting too much info to these AI devices and it leads to bad things, so am I so wrong wanting to keep that out of our home and protect my child and peace of mind?

The scorching heat is not helping my mental state. I took one melatonin last night and after the stress of her ‘gimme gimme’ friend and her litany of all the expensive stuff he has so his parents must REALLY love him…I was tapped out and I slept, hard. With nightmares and anxiety cos this kid is always asking to come into our house but the first time I allowed him to, he did nothing but complain and touch my stuff without permission and he fussed and…ARGHHH. I know I can’t pick her friends for her, but damn it, do I have to tolerate someone who triggers the very mental disorders leading to all my distorted thoughts? Can’t I just hold him at bay until my mental state is better? And this is not just him, I’ve been weird about people being in the house for months now because they took my Xanax and my meds are so effed up. And if I say no, my kid will hate me, and she wants to know why I don’t like this kid, and I have tried to explain that he has no boundaries and all he does is make her feel bad for not having all the stuff he has…Which makes me feel like bad. And here I was thinking, wow, for a poor kid, this child has tablets, computers, smart TV’s, she’s not exactly living in deprived squalor.

It only takes one person to make you realize how subpar you are but I refuse to stoop to that level. No kid needs 3 ipads. No kid should EVER tell you what you better buy him and not buy him for his birthday. He may have issues but rudeness is a choice and that his mom was okay with it…I don’t see things improving.

In addition to this stress, one of the day camp counselors pulled me aside yesterday at pick up and told me how moody and easily upset Spook is and he wanted to know if there are things going on at home, et al. I told him we’re not sure if it’s hormonal or ADHD or mood disorder but she does have an appointment this month. Plus, moving to Armpit has been tough on her. And she does have mega issues getting along with more than one or two friends at a time, which is a battle I’ve faced myself. The minute I got her home, she calmed, she was happier. The counselor said she takes things so hard she acts like a 40 year old. I am constantly telling her she acts like a 2 year old because she has fits over food, over being told to brush her hair and teeth, over being told no, you can;t lay out in the middle of the road…

All of this on top of my own struggles with personal situational stress, mental health issues, money, et al.

I’m tough but all of it is wearing me down fast. And my support system is um…non existent. “Take a nerve pill.” “Get over it, you have a kid, you don’t get to be depressed.”

That I am not a serial killer is a fucking miracle. Life has pushed me to the breaking point and them some.

So while I know it does no good trying to get y’all to interact with me…Any advice? Anyone? (Crickets.) I could really use some encouragement and support and coping mechanisms. Because I know part of it isn’t this friend of hers, it’s my own inferiority complex. But how do I stick to my guns not wanting to spoil my ungrateful non chore doing kid just so she can keep up with the mini Joneses?

Help? Anyone?

Just Another Day In Bad Mental Space

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

It does not feel like I am ever going to ‘get out’ of this current mind space. It’s just a dimmed place where the negative stuff is magnified and what little good stuff needs to be put under a microscope. I don’t like this. I have tried to ‘bring myself out’ of it in various ways. Eat some fruit, get some exercise, do something different than your routine…Nothing is working. Which just feeds the feelings of self loathing and self hatred and defeat.

I did manage to bathe today. First time in 5 days. I was gonna do it Sunday but settled for a simple hair wash instead then felt guilty for that.

I fetched my kid from day camp and she started in on me in an instant. She was hungry, their food was bad, she was starving and needed to be taken out to eat RIGHT NOW and she had a headache and the kids are mean and…

She has not shown an iota of appreciation for the lengths I have gone to to ensure her a decent summer. The sacrifices I have made to buy gas to get her there and back. The anxiety it brings because I live in terror of the car breaking down. None of it means anything to her. She just expects it. I look back and think, wow, me and my sister were like this, too, must be a kid thing.

Except this isn’t, this is a metastatic spoiling of a child from outside influences so I can’t discipline or deny her things and teach her a damn bit of gratitude or respect or obedience. I knew letting my mother into her life was gonna be a huge mistake. My mom, who was more fellow kid than an adult to me and my sis and our friends. To this day all she cares about is spending the most and saying yes the most and being liked the most. And I am reaping what she has sewn in the form of an entitled kid with no gratitude.

I can’t wait for school to start, regain some semblance of routine. At least then I know THEY are responsible for her safe transportation and I can CHOOSE whether to go to town or if I can afford the gas. I thought doing this summer camp thing would somehow bring us closer and she’d see how much I am willing to give up to make her happy but if anything, she is less grateful than ever. And before any well meaning person points out she’s a child and this is normal…it is NOT normal to this extent.She thinks everything is disposable. Break it, so and so will buy another one for you. Make mom cry, oh, well, make her feel bad for crying in front of you. Apologize for things that aren’t your fault, then completely blow off apologies when you know you’ve done wrong.

Wow, I sound like a bit of a monster but damn, I have sweat blood and tears for this kid and not so much as a thank you, just give me more, more, more, and oh it’s not good enough and this is wrong and that is wrong…

No, love, try living in a mind where even when NOTHING is wrong you still feel utterly sad and hopeless. THAT IS WRONG.

And I don’t see any change coming soon since I can’t get away from the psych nurse from hell. Guess I should have just been blatantly non compliant and refused to see her again but then, that would put me on the every 4 month list and…I can’t live in this mental space 4 more months. Something’s gotta give.

Do you know how truly torturesome it is to try and find out WHAT is so terrible that you’d feel this bad yet come up with NOTHING to explain it? Well, chances are, if you’re reading this blog, you’ve dealt with the lack of logic of depression so most of you probably do know.

I’m not taking her to day camp tomorrow or Thursday, her karma for acting like a whiny spoiled brat. Maybe by Friday she will have gained some appreciation and I will be in a different mind space. At least one where I can find a reason to keep living because today…I got nothing.

Meth Gators, 15 Pound Rodents, And My Mental Health Manifesto

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

Some days, there are such warped headlines lurking in your inbox, it’s like, you HAVE to click them just to see if it’s click bait or satire. Apparently, these are real stories involving, yes, meth gators, and 15 pound rodents. So yeah, Mississippi, stop flushing your drugs so we don’t have a mutant army of meth gators and hey, get these rodents on birth control so they stop mutating.

I took my kid to day camp today cos it is skating day and fried chicken leg day and she swooore she would die if I didn’t take her. The litmus test was if she was willing to give up two other activity days just to make this one and she was. So I took her. Then had to buy gas, grab a can of sauce to do our Sloppy Joe’s tonight. All the while my paranoid brain goes 100mph because my fear of my car breaking down is haunting me even in my dreams so it MUST be a bad sign, right? I try to talk myself out of this negative ridiculous mindspace but it is a bucket of fail.

That may be the biggest cross to bear with mental illness. NO ONE, even those with mental illness themselves, can ever quite grasp how real the distortions are. You WANT to snap out of it, shake it off, get over it. But you can’t pull it off because YOUR BRAIN ISN’T WORKING PROPERLY. It’s not just a mood or neuroses, it’s an entire mental state that colors every aspect of your existance, and it colors it negatively no matter how good your intentions are. Worse thing, you never know when it’s going to go dark that way and all you can do is roll with the punches and try to keep your head above water.

I guess my wins for the day were making my kid happy by taking her to camp so she could go skating and getting my beloved Orange Vanilla Coke.

That and a fellow blogger who IS AWESOME posted something that resonated on so many levels for me. Please read it, it’s not long but it is succinct and sincere in a way my rambling bumbling hot mess self expressive manner ever could be. I am seeking my tribe, have been for years. For awhile, I even found it, then it fell apart. But I am still looking. I still seek out those who can say ‘me too’ when it comes to these mental distortions and metastasized anxieties. Just. Read. It.

And for the love of pegacorn, stop flushing your drugs to stave off the meth gators and chip in to buy those rodents some freaking birth control!

Honestly, oddball as it is, it still beats the hell out of the actual headlines I woke up to about racism, white nationalism, and all around…politics. Possibly the filthiest word in any language. I’d rather battle the meth gators and mutant rodents. They tend to be non partisan and they…don’t…fucking…Tweet.


Posted in anxiety, depression, disability with tags , , , , , , , on July 7, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

One of kittens got under my car today and died. I didn’t know he was under there, I usually honk to spook them away. Today I didn’t because I swore I did a headcount and they were all on the step. I buried Tyketto and have spent an hour crying and grieving. I am just…shattered. It was an accident but this does not assauge my guilt. I feel like the most vile person on the planet right now and the day is young.

All I need is my dad calling me over and over and bitching at me. And they’re supposed to mow my lawn which means I mow, stepmonster sits on a rider, and they both scream at me how I am doing it wrong and it doesn’t look pretty. They mow their neighbor’s yard and never yell at her or guilt her.

My hatred for them grows by the day. My dream is to move Spook far away from this toxicity called my family. My mom babies her, my dad treats her like she’s a grown up and shouldn’t have tantrums and should be mowing lawns.

This day sucks. I just want to feel nothing and silently grieve for my cat and flog myself with guilt.

And I know what my dad will say. “No use crying, it’s done and you have too many cats anyway.” Yes, he has said that many times when we’ve lost a cat.

He’s a monster. And his woman is the bride of the fucking monster, minus the legal status.

Just let me grieve.

But so I can’t be accused of not trying, I did fill out an application on line for sandwich artist. Those personality tests are a bitch because I can’t say people don’t get offended by the things I say because they do. But it’s not like I’d do it in a paid work position, ffs. If I want to call my dad a fucking asshole, well, that’s our family dynamic.I should lie, I know. Personality tests are bullshit anyway. If they wanted to truly know you, they’d give you situations and ask you to write a paragraph explaining how you would handle it within the company rules and respect and satisfaction for the customer.

Okay, the tears are coming again. I don’t want to drip on the laptop.

Hive Mind

Posted in anxiety, depression, working with disabilities with tags , , , , , , on July 7, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

It’s nearing 6 a.m. I have been up since 3:20. The whole thing with my dad on my ass about working at fast food hell has me breaking out in hives. I am 46 years old and my dad can still nag me to hives and keep me from sleeping. Pathetic. But he calls FOUR times a day to rag on me and even when I say fuck off, he keeps doing it, after he screams at me that I am lazy and useless.I have tried being mature and civilized and pointing out, he doesn’t pay any of my bills and I am not asking for anything, so WHY is it any of his business? And god knows I can’t dare mention the fact that I am disabled, that starts him on another tear about deadbeats on the dole.

Any ideas on how to handle this impossible cretin of a man?

Any thoughts on how to earn money from home on the computer?

I don’t care if it’s $12 a week for emailing spam, just anything to get him off my fucking back. It would really frost his balls if I could find something to do on line, he is so hell bent on how my failure to get employment is because I insist on applying on line and won’t go talk to the people. And blah blah blah, that’s not how they do it at his job which he’s had 42 years blah blah blah. I just want to earn some money or hell, even gift cards to buy household and pet supplies. ANYTHING to get him off my back. I am not lazy, I am disabled. If anyone would ever bother to work with me and around my limitations, they might find I am a hard worker, I want to work, but yeah, I have some stuff going on that makes conventional jobs near impossible for me.

Anyone want to help me spite a bigoted racist redneck who has one set of rules for himself, his woman, and their son and another set for his daughters? Anyone want to help me battle misogyny?

Probably not but I am going to keep trying.

Out there somewhere is a way for me to earn a living without it sending me to the Rubber Ramada. I just gotta find it.

It’s light out now. I will never get back to sleep. It’s gonna make for a long day. I am thinking about unplugging the house phone and calling it a whoospie, forgot to plug it back in after running the hell machine vaccuum. It’s happened before, legit. Then he’d just call my cell and waste my minutes on it, but thankfully, I keep the volume low to avoid panic attacks so it’s easily not heard. Then he will come to my door, start barking orders about mowing my lawn properly, and make my life a living hell as he seems to do 7 days a week since we moved to Armpit.

If it wasn’t for him and his crew, I might adapt to this place.

Advice on how to handle the situation would be appreciated. Surely someone knows how to deal with a personality like his. I’ve never figured it out because he simply can’t see any side but his own and he is immovable on certain topics.

Thoughts, anyone? Before I need to drag around and IV pole with a Benadryl drip to control my itchy hives.


Posted in disability, employment, work from home with tags , , on July 6, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

My dad is on my ass like a diaper again about working. I don’t know why he thinks it is his business, I am not asking him for anything. I am not stable enough to risk my disability by working in an environment that time after time has reduced me to a nervous breakdown. I have told him to mind his own damn business, he lets it go for a day after screaming bloody murder at me, then starts in again.

The village lot lizard and meth whore got hired at fast food hell so now he thinks I MUST go work there. Just eating there with all the noise about does me in. He won’t listen, he doesn’t care. It’s his way or he chews my ass into submission.

If anyone knows of anything I can do from home via computer and internet, God knows, I am a hard worker, but I have limitations. I know I have been singing this same old tune for months and most home gigs are scams, but I really need some ideas here to get him off my back. I can’t risk our insurance coverage by earning too much, I can’t risk my disability by going to work and they decide I am cured when clearly, I am a bit of a trainwreck after the Abilify side effect debacle. Not to mention I can barely drive in town since they cut my Xanax.

If anyone reads this and has any ideas-I don’t even care if it’s balloon porn at this point- speak up. This man is edging me toward self harm because he calls FOUR times a day every day to chew on this topic. If you can’t help me with the job aspect, can you come kick his redneck ass? JOKE.

I really need some ideas, guys.