Archive for mood disorder


Posted in depression with tags , , , , , on April 28, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Give my Spook-a-boo a like and subscribe, please. Like it twice, cos our kitten Axl is so adorbs.

Today has been a letdown, compared to yesterday. Yesterday ended on a positive mental note, I got the lawn mowed and felt accomplished…I even made a lawn ranger video, I’m fucking Hank Hill now, sans propane and propane accessories. Seriously, though, skim that clip, just to get an idea of how huge our lawn really is. And I do it by myself with a single pushmower, so fuck anyone who thinks me lazy.

Today was 30 degrees cooler, gray, and wet so as usual, the weather impacts my mental state and…I’ve been circling the drain today.

Dad asked me to take their man child to his job so we went to town and Spook got to spend her Easter gift cards. We ate at KFC, then endured 20 minutes in line at Dollar Tree due to a broken cash register. Previously freezing, I began overheating and to feel like the humidity was smothering me.

My former neighbor now has a full time job and a part time cash paying job, and I still have no job. Which everyone is pointing out left and right, cos I’m not fucking aware enough or feeling shitty enough.

My self esteem is slush, liquified and lacking stability.

It makes me feel low, full of self loathing, feelings of failure, and this adds to the anxiety that we need the money NOW to keep paying the rent and power, I don’t have time for employers to decide they like me or go through 6 levels of hell and red tape for the state to declare me fit to work in home health care, which aside from fast good, is about the only job market here. And I’ve already been rejected even for McDonald’s where my brother got hired-and he’s so mentally impaired, he can’t even be trusted to drive himself to and from work daily despite being 23.

Yeah, I am…not feeling good about myself today.

Hoping it’s pms dysphoria combined with coming off Lexapro and switching to Abilify but when your family daily gives you negative input so you never ever feel worthy and your self esteem never rises out of the damn cess pool…

It’s not self pity. It is these people who allegedly love me being dicks who discourage me and damage me more than they build me up and help me.

I don’t blame my depression and anxiety on them, but they sure as hell do make it escalate and that is on them.

I’m ready for bed.

Fuck depression, fuck anxiety, and fuck asshole family members who can only show love by pretty much destroying your self esteem and mental well being.


The Ugliest Truths I Hide…No More

Posted in depression with tags , , , , , , on March 24, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

***Possible trigger warning***

I have been doing this blog for going on 8 years and while I pride myself on being painfully honest here (I mean, who admits willingly to going out in public smelling like cat pee?) but because mental health issues can be so triggering for some…I have for the most part kept the blackest of my mental states to myself or summed it up indirectly. I don’t want to keep doing that. If the internet needs protected from the ugliness of life, it isn’t my job to protect them. Just don’t read it.

I am, of course, referring to suicidal thoughts. I have lost friends and family to suicide attempts/suicide and I don’t consider it something to joke about or take lightly. In this day and age of social media and net trolls, it just seems risky to flay your fragile mental state open to that degree. There are those out there who enjoy encouraging depressed individuals to kill themselves. They relish increasing the pain and torment, it makes them feel good. Those are the people I want to avoid at all costs when I am feeling vulnerable and hope has abandoned me.

I don’t honestly know why today I suddenly feel completely…devoid of the will to live, devoid of hope. Earlier I was just feeling lost and stuck and frustrated by all the mixed messages that have been thrown my direction. Over the last couple of hours, though, it has morphed into a sudden mood crash. What I call SPLAT. Maybe because I can’t get warm. Maybe because my kid is at her grandpa’s again and much as I need breaks, I can’t help but feel she’s rejecting me for them because they aren’t all high strung and depressed. The day started out gloomy but now the sun is peeking out and this sends a confusing message to mind and body, as well. Because if the sun is out then I should be warm and my mood should be up but since it’s not…something isn’t kosher.

Nothing happened aside from this abyssmal midwestern early spring where it’s half warm sunny days and half cold gray wet days. Until I get a several day stretch of warm, sunny, solid weather, my seasonal disorder wrecks me and my perceptions. I also have to contend with my age (!!!) and the fact that I am closer to fifty now so all my usual hormonal issues are about to get even worse and likely not be limited to 15 days a month. I am overwhelmed by all the housework that I keep doing but then it needs done again and I can’t keep up and I have no one to turn to for help. I tried reaching out to my sister yesterday cos I felt I needed to talk but she was, as usual, busy with her partying weed head/drinking buddies. I thought about reaching out to a newish friend I made via this blog but I don’t want our first phone conversation to be me falling to pieces and bawling about how life isn’t worthwhile.

I just don’t want to live. I don’t want to wake up again. And I have no idea why.

I see the NP in a few days and there is zero hope there, either, because no doubt she will tell me to stay on the current combo 6 weeks and I don’t feel like I have six weeks to dangle in this mental space, it’s not safe…

When I was younger, I knew I could always ‘run away’ from home to get a respite and reboot, so to speak. Now that I have the kid and cats and not even a penny to put gas in the car to go anywhere…I can’t run away. I am trapped. In my own mind, in this place I don’t feel comfortable in, in this house I never wanted…I guess that was another trauma never really explored, being told we were getting that nice affordable trailer only for the senile landlord to go rent it out to someone else and us being left with no choice but this monstrosity outside my budget and housekeeping abilities. Had the man been decent he’d have just put our rent here at the rate it would have been at the trailer, since it was his fuck up. We haven’t been able to catch a break at all this last year.

And my self loathing is at fever pitch because I’ve noticed some of my usual followers and like button clickers are now absent and I think even they are fed up with my same old song every day. But I am being honest in how I feel, I have no answers, no clarity, no motivation. If I didn’t have my kid and the social stigma against hospitalization for parents, I’d probably have already admitted I need more help than outpatient can give and signed myself into a psych ward. It would only be a day or two under my insurance but that might be a day or two where I could get some much needed rest and maybe formulate a plan of attack with a professional.

Except that is at odds with my badass “I’ve got this on my own” mentality where I need to be in absolute control.

It’s like a war raging inside my own mind and body and there aren’t gonna be any winners if I can’t get out of this negative mental space. The good thing about rapid cycling, though, is that by this time tomorrow, I may be in rage mode or blissed out following a refreshing nap. I never know what’s coming my way no matter how tightly I try to stay in control over every tiny thing that could impact my mood.

So, I have no intention of harming myself, but the desire to just stop being…is here right now. I hate it. I will rage against it. What I won’t do anymore is bottle it up and ‘protect’ those who are triggered by ugly truths.

Yes, I am a bitchy badass who probably seems unapproachable and may be deserving of my misery for being so unlikeable or whatever.

I am also a frightened single mom with a crippling disability who cannot figure a way out of this dark space and if talking about the darkness helps me pass the time until I am in different head space…

I don’t wish to trigger anyone or put a positive spin on suicidal thoughts. I do however want to exorcise my darkest demons here and I can’t apologize for the truth being ugly or a bummer.

Part of the mental health stigma that haunts so many of us is that we do try to censor even our feelings and thoughts to avoid bringing more stigma on ourselves.

No more self censorship here.

It All Just Sucks

Posted in anxiety disorders, bipolar disorder, depression with tags , , , , , , on July 14, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Honestly this is not some boo hoo woe-is-me post, I just couldn’t come up with a better title at the moment. I was too lazy to eat when I woke up so I thought, I’ll do the mood stabilizers later after I do eat but what can it hurt to take the Cymbalta now while I am thinking about it…Well, the hurt is in my gut which is now burning like a mofo, something that was never a side effect when I took the same in the past but now suddenly it is a random thing. As if my burning stress stomach aches and lowering myself to take Pepcid isn’t enough, then playing the “will the pills make me puke or not today’ lottery…Just what I bloody needed. GRRR.

You can spew all your sunshine and wave your pompoms in my face and tell me what works well for you and it’s all about a positive attitude but you know what? It doesn’t change the fact that MEDICATION SIDE EFFECTS EVERY DAY OF YOUR LIFE JUST PLAIN SUCKS.

In a surprise twist the other day after being assaulted by some well meaning but ’caused traumatic flashbacks’ pompom waving…I felt like a loser for a couple of hours and then I realized no one has my permission to make me feel inferior no matter my failings and hey, that includes ME. I was busy beating up on myself because I’ve not found my magic cocktail of unicorn farts, medication, and meditating on clouds made of cotton candy I forgot the most important things of all: we are all different. And I really need to get the stick out of my ass because I suck at being given advice, I take it way too personally and in doing so, I close my mind to some positives I could take away from it. I totes want my uicorn fart magical cocktail but until that happens…I’m gonna keep doing me.

And I surprised me because after the loserpalooza mental state kicked my ass long enough, I started moving around the house. Not because I wanted to but because I was pissed off, because I was sick of beating myself up, because damn it, I am fighting as hard as I can and the pegacorns aren’t barfing rainbows on me so I may as well do something. I folded 7 baskets of laundry and attempted to find a place for it all thus making the middle room look less biohazard-y. (It is very challenging to store things when YOUR IDIOTIC HOUSE HAS NO CLOSETS,FFS, whoever designed this place was a fucking moron.) I cleaned cat boxes, tried to clean floors (epic fail without a working vacuum and fans blowing dust everywhere you just swept or dusted, grrrrr.) The humidity that day was so high I had sweat running down my back, indoors, with the AC. 93 outside, 89 inside, what a joyous life. But I got shit done and it felt good. Hypomania always does, though I sure do miss my full blown mania and oh those delicious but lethal diet pills that kept me looking pretty and so energized I could run 56 hours straight but that’s a story for another (never) time.

I zonked around midnight, only to be wakened three times by the rioting cats who don’t do diurnal…I had a nightmare I jolted from at 4a.m. and could not get back to sleep. So I tried boring myself to it by watching, oh dear god, Martha Stewart glazing a ham. (The horror!) Fail. By 6 a.m. I was doing dishes, counting time til I had to take my kid to my mom’s for her sleepover and outing. Which meant by the time I got my ‘me day’ I spent most of it sleeping because I hit the hypomania wall and when I did wake up, I was up til after 2 a.m. and too tired to do anything I had planned because when planning it, I had assumed I’d be well rested instead of my cycles all fucked up.

Today I am edgy and grumpy. My kid is off to St. Louis with her cousin and his girlfriend for her first ever trip to the zoo. And selfishly, I feel pissed off about it. I want her to be happy, but I feel pissed off that my nephew doesn’t work, doesn’t pay a single bill, his girlfriend just had to resign from her job before they fired her, and still they have all this money to drive so far away and go to the zoo and feed my kid (after they took her out of town shopping last night!) and it’s just not fucking fair that I do all the sacrifice and hard work and I can’t even be included in the fun stuff she gets to do. Me, me, me, I know, but is it so wrong for a parent to want to be with their kid doing the fun stuff? It should be a memory for mom and daughter but no, I’ve got every cent tied up keeping a roof overhead so…

So I am feeling left out and petty and at this point…I’d just be happy if I could afford a damn pizza from Marco’s. Everyone takes Spook out to eat, to swim, to shop, and I am always stuck home, can’t even spring for a damn McDouble. Boo hoo, right? Well, newsflash:parents are people,too, and while we are willing to sacrifice whatever is necessary for our kids to be happy…

Some of us selfish bastards would still like $13 to get a damn delicious pizza.

But knowing my mental state and how the meds are wrecking my body daily..I am glad she has others who financially able to give her what I can’t. Honestly, some of my fondest memories of childhood aren’t of amusement parks or zoos, they’re just the mundane daily things, like playing with a dog, or running through a sprinkler and having ice cream after. Of course, I’m not vapid and my kid kind of is, so her memories will involve everyone but me cos they all have money to do the fun stuff. I won’t begrudge her that. I’d probably have a mental breakdown if I was even sitting in a car in St. Louis traffic (sure would love to see the snakes though, such beautiful creatures.) I still think it’s bullshit that my cousin and his girlfriend don’t have to pay for food or a single expense by living off my mom and my sister. But then isn’t that how everyone views me, living off disability…Difference being, my money isn’t going toward happy fun ball stuff. I prioritize and my kid comes first so if her having food means no trip to the zoo and I’m a downer…so be it.

Really makes me think of everything my parents sacrificed for me and my sister when we were kids. How little they got out of life other than working to pay bills and keep us clothed and fed. Not to mention they hated each other and stayed together for our sake (not a favor) so that had to suck a lot, too. At least I am not stuck with an albatross in my home thus ours is a happier home than what I grew up in.

I still want my Marco’s pizza, though. If I can’t have pegacorn barf and unicorn farts…I just want a damned pizza. I’m shallow and demanding like that.

Do Not Ever Think A Mental Health Disorder Diagnosis Makes You Crazy

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , , , , on April 15, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

I’ve been brewing and stewing this post for a loooong time but a tv show episode just kind of nudged me to bring it to fruition.

NONE of us like labels, NONE of us want to be called disordered, dysfunctional, imbalanced, ie; crazy.

Fact is..mental illness (whether you like the term or not, it is what it is) does not care who you are. It does not care how smart, educated, or socially economically privileged you are. The brightest minds can fall victim to personality disorders, mood disorders, thought disorders. If you think no genetic link or an abundance of smarts and education and productivity protect you…

You are wrong.

Fact is, cruelly so, most of us with a chink in our mental health armor, are actually intelligent, creative, strong, stubborn, and not at all malleable.

So do NOT ever be like the mindless masses and assume mental illness/disorder is a synonym for “crazy”.

Our thoughts fire randomly. Perhaps we don’t make sense at times. Maybe our logic is askew and we make poor choices. Maybe we fail those who count on us and it is unintentional and after the fact, we loathe ourselves.

It is NOT the same as being a sociopath or psychopath. Most with a legit diganosis still feel guilt, we have a conscience, we hate ourselves and regret our behavior even when it is spilled milk. THAT is what separates us from those who are chemically balanced yet socially bankrupt. We actually do feel bad when our behavior is detrimental to ourselves and hurts others.

So…No matter your failures or shortcomings…You are not crazy.

Thinking that is just ignorant social programming and ignorance may be bliss for the sheeple…

But most of us have had enough counseling to know ignorance isn’t blissful and denial isn’t a good coping mechanism.

It’s okay to feel bad for poor behavior, to feel guilty for those you feel you have wronged because your neurons were misfiring…

It does not make us “crazy”. Nor does it make is beyond help, or beyond redemption. Like any physical illness, mental health issues should have some leeway. I’ve long said no one would expect you to place first in a long distances marathon with a broken leg…

So why are we held to the same standards as people without a brain chemistry issue working against us?

Maybe we all feel crazy at one time or another, or hell, in my case, at many times.

I never stop feeling bad for it. I may let myself move on, but it is never without a great weight over my head for I feel terrible when I hurt people, intentional or not.

We are not crazy, nor evil, nor beyond help.

The only ones advocating for us are ourselves and the mental health community who knows how we feel.

Never fall prey to a cruel society who lacks the intelligence to ever truly know what mental illness is like.

Be strong, be a survivor, kick ass when you can, retreat when you must…BUT DO NOT EVER ALLOW YOURSELF TO BE GUILTED INTO FEELING THE WAY THE IGNORANT SHEEPLE THINK YOU SHOULD FEEL.

We are stronger than that. We tangle daily with our own minds and still, we are not out killing people like the so called “sane”.

Rather than self hatred and exile…maybe we all deserve a spork of fortitude.

No. Not maybe.

We all DEFINITELY deserve a spork of fortitude.

The Strength of Mental Illness

Posted in biolar disorder, mental health with tags , , , on January 20, 2015 by morgueticiaatoms

It is so easy, as one with mental illnesses, to wander through life buying into society’s blanket “mental illness is weakness of character” party line.
It isn’t until the chips are down and you find yourself still battling that you realize, “Wow, those people are full of shit, I am toughing out stuff that has caused others to break.”
Mental illness makes you have weaknesses, no doubt.
But it also gives you a strength, and a resolve, and every time you think you’ve hit the wall of “this is it, I can’t do this anymore”…You keep doing it.

The last five days have been like a kick in the head for me, physically. I have the whole allergy thing in which my nose thinks it’s a faucet. Then I lucked out with bronchitis, the kind that makes you double over hacking up both lungs, a pancreas, and a spleen. Oh and I got hit with that agonizing shark week. At some point, I stumbled and landed in a doorway, thinking my boob took the brunt of it.
Surprise, I have a severely bruised rib. I am fine as long as I don’t move, breathe, sneeze, cough, or have to participate in life.
Which means I am pretty fucking miserable.
After three days, I think it’s getting less excruitating, though finding a comfortable sleep position is challenging. As was trying to bathe my kid last night. Ever played Twister with a bruised rib? And the thing that makes it more fun are the spontaneous coughing fits that make it feel like a steel toe boot is kicking me right in that spot.
Still, amidst my random cries in pain…
I am here, I am managing. I am definitely not bringing my A game. It’s more like a z game. I need to shower but it’s going to hurt to wash my hair, so…delay. I need to take my meds…They’re up high and that’s gonna hurt. delay…
(And funny thing is, when I miss taking them by several hours, all my wonky brain chemicals start rapid misfiring and I become an anxiety riddled paranoia mess like yesterday.)
I need a helper monkey.
I should train the cats to be helper monkeys.

Oh, well. Guess my point is, you don’t know what you are capable of til put to the test. Yesterday I wanted nothing more than to lay at home yet in spite of it all, I went to the shop. he wants me there again today. I promised Nancy I’d changed her wifi encryption at her house. I have to go to the dmv to renew my license.
I don’t want to do this stuff. And for once, I have physical agony as an explanation.
This isn’t a bad mental health day for people to mock.
So instead of caving in to my own need to allow myself to be a victim and take advantage of being out of the game to an extent..
I am going to keep pushing myself. My Z game will have to suffice for now.
Least I’ve got game.

Sometimes it’s a bitch

Posted in biolar disorder, mental health with tags , , , , , on January 16, 2015 by morgueticiaatoms

Like that Stevie Nicks song.
Sometimes, life is a bitch. It just is.
This week I have been hit with wretched allergy attacks (as had as my kid.) Then I get slammed with the most excrutiating shark week pains I can remember having in months. I am talking cramps, bloating, back pain akin to being in labor…
I have been impatient, irritable, downright hostile. I don’t want to be touched by kid cats or even air. I don’t want to talk or smile. I want to assume the fetal position and nurse my sneezing and coughing and my aching body that feels bruised from head to toe.
I power through the flu, colds, hell I was doing high kicks twenty minutes after giving birth.
This shark week stuff…takes me down hard.
And trying to explain it to people is futile. They just think you’re being a dramatic wuss and milking the female pms experience.
I felt so lousy yesterday I couldn’t even chainsmoke. I ended up with half a pack of smokes left this morning. That is soooo not me.
Not to mention I lured my kid to bed at 7 pm just so I could sleep. I was good for nothing, not watching shows, not chatting, nothing. Just this pain encompassed husk of agitation.

Throw in drowning in sinus drainage and the inability to breathe without coughing to the point of snapping a rib…
Yesterday was shit.

The phone rang several times last night. I quashed the ringer and went right back to sleep. I thought it would be better today.

I was sooo wrong. So very wrong. It’s not even 7 am and I have already filled myself with Tylenol and allergy pills.
And I gotta give my kid flonase and claritin before i take her to school cos she is wheezing.

Sometimes’ it’s bitch.

To make it worse, R wants me to come to the shop (or he did yesterday, after I went in and the shop computer died so nothing got done).
Oh, and his wife sent me a text wanting to do the margeritas at the restaurant thing again tonight.
I can’t keep up with these people. I need serious vegetation time.
I’ve already lined a playdate/sleepover up for my kid Sunday night with Grandma so I can have a little break. And feel like a bad mommy for needing one.

Now I’m in pain and I am pissy and even my horrorscope says I should withdraw today because I am in a state where I’m like to say or do something catastrophic to my relationships. (No, I don’t buy into that astrology stuff,but it confirms what I am feeling in my gut.)
Avoid, retreat, regroup.

Mrs R will understand I am sure. (And she probably only asked cos her other friend is busy again this week.)
R, on the other hand, has all the empathy and compassion of Hitler.

I just…I am in so much pain I am half tempted to go the hospital outpatient and ask for prescription strength pain killer. That ibuprofen derivative they gave me after I had my kid was wonderful. No loopiness, just hardcore pain relief. I need that. I need an IV drip of that.
And if they have something for this “Do not look at me or I will stab your eyes out with a spork” irritated thing…
I’ll take a keg of that.

I have enough issues being stable without getting blindsided every month with this shit. Usually if I can survive the precursor and first day I am ok.
Today is just not looking good.
Hell, even my knees hurt and they haven’t hurt in a long time. It’s like my pain receptors have gone haywire.
It makes me feel weak and wussified and I do not like it.

I also don’t like the guilt that comes with admitting, I don’t feel well enough to be what these people/er friends, around me need me to be. Which is them. Work work work and go out and do it all over weekly.
The brakes need to be applied.

I am so pathetic I can’t even handle going out once a week for “fun”.

But hey, sometimes its a bitch and so am I.

Cyclothymic Eclipse

Posted in cyclothymia with tags , , , , , on January 7, 2015 by morgueticiaatoms

With cyclothymic bipolar, the only consistent is inconsistency. It truly takes a momentous event, like an eclipse, for a cyclothymic to experience a “good day”. The stars, sun, and mood must all align perfectly.

Today was that day for me. I’m not saying I am mirthfullly bouncing off walls or I won the lottery…But the mood help most of the day and even as evening beckons…My mood has not crashed. Impressive, amazing, mind boggling…More than welcome.
I want some more of this.

I saw the shrink. He was pleasant and willing to work with me by raising the anti depressant. He’s still stuck on the anxiety being the cause of the inability to focus but he says in a month or so if it’s still so bad, he will consider giving me another anti anxiety agent to take *as needed*.
I can live with that.
They didn’t weigh me for once, that was wonderful.

Now being at the shop three hours banging my head against a wall over a laptop with a lost password…Not so wonderful. I brought it home with me and spent two more hours messing with it…And I nearly did the cha cha and the tango because dammit, I kicked its ass. I feel like I actually accomplished something.

I also did something this week to tempt the fates of catastrophe. I let the dishes pile up for THREE days. Ya know what? The world did not end, babies were not incinerated in a flaming ball of fire from the sun. The vacuum nazis (clean freaks) of the world should be aware of this. Nothing bad happened. I did them all up today and got a further sense of accomplishment.

My kid has been fairly tolerable the last two days.

So what if, it’s been so cold out even the eskimos on vacation here ran back to Alaska…

Today was my cyclothymic eclipse. May not happen for another hundred years. Sucks, because when you get a taste of “not feeling shitty”, you’d like some more.
Unfortunately, it does not work that way.
Today was a win.
I’ll take it.