Archive for mood swings

I Wish I Could Impeach My Misfiring Brain

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 20, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Oh, what’s in a title…Apparently, a lot. Buzz words, tag words, trending topics. It all gets more views, more likes. And what is the country talking about this week? Oh, yes, the impeachment farce. Sorry, demoncrats, think you overplayed your hand on this one. The Cheeto Hued Dumpster Fire has too many republiskanks who would let him shoot someone on the street and say nothing. He’s boasted about that, too. If that is your leader, I am glad I am not a follower. Not that our other options are little more than gun, knife, noose, death all around…So, I am off to a rousing start,daring to bring up politics.

Let’s face it, though. Going into the weekend before the Christmas holiday even my two die hard readers will be too busy to read let alone be made uncomfortable by mention of politics or get offended.

So my title. call into question the integrity or validity of (a practice.

I question my brain all the bloody time. The very definition of bipolar and depression and anxiety amounts to the brain sending the wrong messages and distorting your perception and thoughts. So, I’d like to impeach it as its validity and integrity are borderline treasonous to me. When disorders can alter the entire landscape of your long etched personality and beliefs and make you filled with self doubt…IMPEACH SCUMBAG BRAIN. Not that it’d do a damn bit of good cos faulty firing syapses are majority rule. Can’t Z Whack and mercy it. Can’t spray it with machine gun fire. Can’t stab it, set it on fire, remove it from office…But sometimes I sure want to do all of the above because I MISS ME. Who I am when not in a depression or under the seasonal depression or riddled with the bouncy ball attention deficit incoherent thoughts. I don’t like the constant, often untriggered, fight or flight responses of panic attacks. feeling like a cornered animal with little or no reason.

But I guess it’s a good with the bad situation. Part of what makes me, well me, is my brain, no matter how screwed up it may be. To be rid of the bad, I’d also have to part with the good stuff about myself I actually like.

So big shocker…I did not get to sleep easily last night and I woke very two hours or so. It was flustering. When I wake then can nod back off real easily, I don’t get so bent. But when I wake and scumbag brain decides it isn’t sleepy anymore..And time is ticking til you have to get up with the alarm so you get more stressed out and it becomes harder to sleep. Night after night. It wears you down. Hell, I’m a fucking miracle considering how vicious some people get when they don’t get 8 or 9 hours of sleep every night. By all accounts of sleep deprivation, I reckon I should be out at Walmart, gone berzerk and Z Whacking anyone who is wearing their pajamas in public. Or just out in public.

Waking was a bitch, too. I was gonna go for a 4th snooze button but my kid was up and I just had to power through. She gets out early today and then it is 16 days straight of me and her together, each of us giving the other whiplash with our mood swings. Happy fucking holidays. I can already hear the hours of chanting MOm, I’m bored…

As lazy and ungrateful as she is, I should make her do some chores but that just starts a fight. And last time I let her do dishes, she broke the faucet so…

The dishes remain unwashed. Laundry remains wet, waiting for me to hang dry it. The carpet has more fur than the cats do. And still…no motivation, no energy, no give a damn. I mention it because I am SUPPOSED to give a damn, like normal people. I mean, I will never be an OCD clean freak like my sister, but I could ‘take some pride’ in how our home looks. Then again, after it got so bad over my six month summer depression, it is downright sparkly now.

Therapists say PUSH yourself past all the negative feelings and inertia and once you start ‘doing something’, you will feel better. That works maybe 25% of the time. Right now I am forcing myself to keep watching he Walking Dead. Just days ago, I was all in. Now I am like, ugh, this has gotten redundant and boring. But has it? Or has my attention span just wandered so drastically and my mental state so altered that it’s not allowing me to enjoy it?

There is one thing that not even depression has robbed me of. The ability to briefly feel the warm fuzzies.

I saw a Baby Yoda doll on line yesterday and just went to moosh. My kid thinks it’s ugly. I am more a Trekkie person than Star Wars but man…BABY FREAKING YODA!!! Awwww.

And I guess my attention has wandered elsewhere yet again because I was all fired up to rant even longer but now I forgot what it was I wanted to say. Sometimes it amazes me that I’ve kept a kid alive for ten years, considering how non functional I get and how my focus is all over the map.

Yet she’s never had a single stitch or overnight hospital stay so I must be doing something right. Unless she grows up to be Jeffrina Dahmer in which case I either bore a psychopath or created one.

There I go spewing maternal sunshine again. I rock that way.

So Often There Is No Why When It Comes To Depression and Anxiety

Posted in anxiety, depression, mental health with tags , , , , , , on July 5, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

One of the most frustrating aspect of mental illnesses for me is the way the professionals have always insisted there has to be a ‘why’ for feeling anxious or depressed. Proof one can go to school, get a degree, practice psychiatric care, and still be utterly clueless as to how the illness truly works. I don’t dispute that often there are indeed precursors, triggers, and logical explanations to mood swings and negative mental space. If your beloved pet dies, it is reasonable to feel grief, to cry, to cycle through the emotions and moods involved with loss. Your car breaks down and you can’t afford to fix it. This is a bummer and impacts your life in a major negative fashion, so frustration, anger, and depression make sense.

THEN there is bipolar depression and free floating anxiety disorder. If the doctors are flustered by me not having a ‘why’ to explain to them, they should ponder how frustrating it is for me living in this never ending cycle without explanation. If I can explain it, I can try to fix it, change it. If I can’t identify the why because there is no why, I am left just treading water, waiting for the mental space to shift.

I find myself in this place today. Nothing traumatic happened. I actually got two decent nights’ sleep since I stopped the Abilify. But I just feel low. I have no motivation. I don’t want to get up and go. I have physical issues going on that are definitely making an impact on functionality, but nothing I don’t deal with regularly enough to know it will soon pass. Hormones and allergies are pretty miserable so they are contributing factors, for sure. But to wake up, fully rested, and still feel tired and overwhelmed, for no apparent reason, is maddening.

Today is gonna be a long day for me. My kid skipped day camp because I told her no more packing her lunch, I trusted her the other day and the counselors had a conniption over her lack of healthy food. She was ‘scared’ of them making her eat gross food to the extent she opted not to go even though it’s a swimming day. Personally, I think she’s being a drama llama, but then, I often cringe at the thought of eating other people’s cooking, so she comes by it naturally. I will get a respite tonight as she is staying the night with my mom. I still have to cart my catterwallig brother to his job, then wait in town in 90 degree heat with nothing to do for 3 hours til he gets off and bring him home. I don’t think it’s ever occurred to my dad what an imposition this arrangement can be for me. He calls it a ‘job’ but job usually implies payment or barter of some sort. I am getting nothing out of this deal except a fiver tossed in for gas on occasion. 4 more weeks then camp ends and I will have a legit reason for not toting him around. Not that it will likely change their ‘we have plans, can you take him to work.’ Because if I say no, I have plans (even if I generally don’t) this will bring on the lecture about how I don’t work and I am lazy and…sometimes standing up for myself just comes with too many adverse side effects.

I look forward to coming home, getting comfy, and enjoying my quiet time. Maybe get cocky enough to hope for a third night of decent sleep, all the while fearful that it was a fluke from coming off the med. They say live in the now, don’t fret what *may or may not& happen but one thing about trauma is that if it’s happened over and over, you lose your luxury of thinking optimistically. Or at least I do. Optimism has proven to be a nasty Rottweiller chewing on my butt cheek too many times. Better to be prepared, just in case. As long as I don’t let the pessimism completely take over.

But yeah. Sometimes there is no why.

Does anyone else experience this? Let me know, because between the inept doctors and counselors and my critical family, I am starting to feel like some sort of mutant. If there is indeed a why, I could use some ideas on how to ID the why and how to proceed in a way that is beneficial instead of self defeating.

I remain convinced, though, that the very nature of the mood disorders is that 90% of the time…there simply is no why. It is called a disorder for a reason. Logic is absent from disorders and trying to make sense where there is none is the very definition of self defeating behavior. That doctors and counselors perpetuate this only adds to my doubts and trauma. Accept there is no why and focus on riding out the storm. That’s what I do, that is my only advice to others. Stop looking for a why and start looking for coping mechanisms. THAT is the kind of advice I wish my psych professionals would give me. I wish they would but alas…they do not. And I guess that is one more thing where there is no why, they’re just incompetent.

Interrupted Consciousness, Bridezillas, and SPLAT!

Posted in anxiety disorders, bipolar depression, depression with tags , , , , , , on May 16, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I am just burning up the DSM today coming up with new disorders. Restless mind syndrome, now as opposed to interrupted sleep, I have decided sleep is my normal default so technically, it’s the waking up over and over that is the disorder.

Splat started earlier after I learned of my mom’s bad mammogram and the waiting period they stuck her with. I thought my own father might be able to work up an iota of empathy as he was married to her 28 years and no one deserves cancer even if they were a bankrupting spouse. Nope. Then his gf got involved and said oh, three weeks isn’t time for it to spread to the lymph nodes, she has plenty of time, she will be okay…Now lets talk about my low iron and how I have to get an upper GI series and a colonoscopy…SERIOUSLY? You want to put that up against potential breast cancer in a 70 year old woman whose entire family died from cancer?????? How narcissistic can one woman be?

So splat imploded then exploded and now I am back to feeling truly demoralized, defeated, depleted, and wait, because it’s only 10 p.m.

I got Bridezilla texting me and saying I gotta get my kid white or purple dress shoes by Saturday for HER wedding. I told her I have NO money. None. Zero. I just got hit with another power bill that was 45% of my income and my rent was the other 50% so now my water is gonna get turned off. So yeah, shoe money, sure, let me pull that out of my ass. I will be so glad when this fucking wedding is over. I knew it would end up being my financial problem, that was only ever the reason I didn’t want Spook involved in the fiasco. “But they’re just twenty dollars at Wal-Mart” says the 20 something with no kids of her own whose rent is only $80 a month. Twenty bucks is a LOT for me. I need cat food, I will need even more gas now since I have to make 3 trips to town over this stupid wedding, then next week Spook has a doc appointment, then I have to go back for a job interview.

I feel like my brain is trying to claw its way out of my head.

Anyone want to buy a 16 disc collection of the best of Forensic Files? Right now, it’s about the only thing I have worth around $40 on ebay. Discs are in great shape, bought new, barely used, cos I switched to digital files.

But I am too tired and my stomach is rioting from stress and my back is hurting from sitting up to write for so long. Scumbag brain is on hyperdrive, and not in a good way. This is a perfect storm brewing and I am terrified someone is going to say the wrong thing come wedding day and I am gonna burn a dozen bridges when I snap.

This is SPLAT. This is what follows a brief hypomanic bout. Irritation, anger, defeat, zero motivation, hopelessness, and right back down the rabbit hole. We’re all mad here, said the cat.

It’s a ‘I wanna drink bleach’ kind of night and I don’t even have any bleach.

Ass Trash.

Manic Monday, Chapter Two

Posted in bipolar disorder, depression, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on May 13, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms


Bedtime at 11 ish. Up at 1 a.m. Awake til 4:45 a.m. Up with alarm before 7 a.m. This has become my new despised normal but this week…it’s not grueling and I am not exhausted because…hypomania. My dad called first thing, then came over to gripe about my yard needing this and that done to it, and I didn’t even get panicked when he decided to come inside and use my bathroom then insult my housekeeping.

I think this is a point most people don’t touch on much. Bipolar people have pretty strong psyches. It’s not like we’re shrinking violets who submit because someone says we have to and we don’t want to displease them. Half the time we are in such a fragile state, we will do whatever it takes to avoid the paranoia and panic attacks that make us feel more vulnerable and weak. But when we are ‘up’, everything changes, right down to, yes, perception of things that usually make us fall apart so fast emotional shrapnel flies. Today I feel strong and solid mentally and so I cope better. I know this is part of the manic depression cycle so it will come and go but I do love when it visits.

It also kept me from throttling him when he started in on my about getting a job at McDonald’s. No, not a job, but  THE SAME SHIFT AND SAME DAYS MY BROTHER WORKS SO THEY DON’T HAVE TO DRIVE HIM AND HE CAN RIDE WITH ME. I told him I want overnights. They only run drive thru after 11 and I think two nights from 8 to 10 pm ish I could deal and Spook would only need a sitter for when she was sleeping. I don’t worry about when I will sleep. I haven’t been working the last 2 and a half years and I still don’t get decent sleep so catnaps work for me. What I do NOT want is working 5,6 days a week for 3 hours a day. With my anxiety, it is best if I go in and get the work week over with so I can breathe and regain equilibrium. I am just so fucking sick of him telling me what to do when I am damn near 50 years old. But I am also feeling pretty shitty cos half the people I know who got jobs ended up getting fired or quitting, and already even with a bad current reference, they are getting hired for new jobs within a couple of weeks and I am getting nothing.

Thing is, even if they hired me tomorrow, it won’t help me right now. The cats are running low on supplies, the water bill is due, the car needs gas…Not like my dad will help me on any of that even if I paint their shed or whatever to earn it. That’s why I post our paypal link, in hopes some kind soul will help out with five or ten buckets to help keep us afloat. I know it annoys people and it makes me look like a money grubber scam artist but I am pretty much an open book. I mean, 9 years of blog archives so my story is consistent. Facts always are. I post my disconnect notices, my account numbers (I was hoping since I did that someone would have helped with Spook;s school pics since they could have just ordered them and not need to give a penny in cash). I am transparent as I can be. (And I also accept directly sent stuff, so I’d suck as a scammer unless cat litter was currency.)

I did this video last night because muggles have asked me what mania is like. Now this was hypomania, not full blown, but same idea. Ten feet tall and bulletproof except with hypomania you’re too scattered to remember where you put your Kevlar so eventually you’ll take a hit and it will likely be mortal to your hypomanic good mood.

And no, I am not giving up, I am gonna keep supporting my kid’s dreams of a vacation and all I beg of you is, just share it on social media. Help this kid get something she wants out of a life.

Mania is wearing off, I am gonna be one tired little ghoul here soon. But the ride was good while it lasted. Think it means my Abilify needs increased, though, dual mood stabilizers usually murder the hypomania if they’re working right.

Have a great Monday. Play me off… (And for the love of pegacorn, could someone do a METAL version of this song THAT DOES NOT SUCK?)

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.

Playing The Slots

Posted in bipolar disorder with tags , , , , on May 13, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Update to our story.

When we moved, I had to leave behind a previous Mother’s Day Gift dad and stepmonster got me from Spook. All I wanted for our new home was another rose bush-yellow. And yesterday they bought it and planted it for me. I named it Persophone, daughter of the goddess of Harvest, in hopes she will grow as tall as my old rose bush. It reached 7 feet tall and 5 feet wide and I called it Monster. Seems silly to wave gardening pompoms but I killed a cactus once, so Monster was one of my pride and joys. Persephone is my new hope.

Slots. Mother’s Day. I have sinus drainage drowning me, cramps, and pre-splat is heading downward fast. I am cooking chicken noodles as a gift for my mom (someone else bought the stuff for it cos I chose to pay bills but everyone wanted my noodles so they bought the stuff). My kid is at church for another 30 minutes so I have a moment of peace. If you discount the fact the cats are going bonkers and keep jumping up and clawing me cos they’re running round like ferals. Best I can guess is all the changes in the weather has them acting like squirrels on meth and coke.

Mood disorders are like playing slots. Only my wonky chemicals are the house and odds are always in favor of the house. I keep pulling up losers. Two weeks ago when I proposed a mother’s day dinner for our mom, I just wanted to do something nice. Then all the other stuff happened (losing income is a huge thing when expenses have tripled, so yes, it affects mental state negatively) and now…fuck nice. What about me? I’m a mom, and today, crampy drain-y moody mom just wants Fort Blankie, minus blankets, cos well, it’s warmed up. I will keep my word, though, cos in spite of our dysfunctional family dynamic, I love my mom and my daughter loves her grandma and aunt. I will ignore the fact that my sister’s interloping non family friends will be there. I try to be civilized and even like them, but the fact they invite themselves to EVERY family event we have annoys the hell out of me. If I wanted to hang out with a bunch of stoners, I’d become one and surround myself with the same kind.

But that could be hormones and mood talking. IDK.

I just know I pulled the arm on the slot machine and today’s a bust. Faking it gets so old. And the game of slots makes it impossible to make plans because as I said, two weeks ago I was okay with this thing. Then I found out the interlopers invited themselves, I lost income, PMDD hit, hypomania crashed downward…I do everything I can in an effort to keep my spirits up and splat still happens.

I’ve had a preview of my summer since the weather warmed up the last couple of weeks. Every day with a kid who is bored within five minutes of every activity, whiney, mouthy, and on the rare occasion I feel generous and offer to watch her little friend while his parents run errands ‘for an hour’…it’s gonna be two, three, four hours, and after hour one, they start bickering and my nerves are going to fray and split and break. But I guess it’s better than three months of six trailer park kids in my yard, eating our food, and causing trouble and destruction. Maybe my coping mechanisms will improve as time passes. It’s been a tough year, makes sense I am frazzled easily.

I do not want to go today.

I will go and I will pretend I want to be there and I will fake nice and cheerful.

Or I will try. When dad showed up yesterday with the rose bush, he growled, “What the hell are you scowling at us for?” And honestly, I had NO idea I was scowling. Anxiety shows on your face whether you intend it to or not, and I guess I wear mine unconsciously and very visibly. I wasn’t pissed off. And I don’t spend time in front of the mirror gauging my expressions then consciously trying to make them more pleasant for others.

I guess this inadvertent scowling may be why people find me unapproachable or unpleasant. I try to be friendly and most of the time, even when faking it, I pull it off. But if I stop trying to fake it at all times..well, scowl happens and I get my case jumped. Mood slots is exhausting to play 365 days a year. I hate gambling. The house is always gonna win, even if I manage to cash in on a few coins occasionally.

Anyway…Happy Mother’s Day to all it applies to, even petmoms. As well as single dads who are doing the job of both parents. It ain’t an easy gig being mom and dad both.

Read our story.

Situational Mood Swings Versus Bipolar Depression Mood Swings

Posted in depression with tags , , , on May 4, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Today SHOULD have had me dancing on ceilings. It took scrimping and sacrificing (my daughter still won’t forgive me for single ply toilet paper, no money to order from book fair, and no money ($8 each) to get into some school family function…but we have internet. Well, DSL is wanna-be broadband, but hey, in Armpit, this is my option and I jumped on it and humped its leg. Instead of it being oh-happy-day…

It was 4 hours of anxiety because I know I told the company I wanted set up between 8a.m. and 12 p.m. I paced, my stomach churned, my anxiety climbed…Finally managed to get a live person on the phone and was told no, my set up was for between 1 p.m. and 5 p.m. I went with it, the guy showed, we have service blah blah blah. I had to get a bundle with phone service to avoid installation fees on top of my ‘bad credit deposit’ and I hate phones and don’t even own one outside my cell phone but…whatever. We have service and for high speed…I couldn’t access my browser on my phone while Spook streamed on her tablet so…Single ply toilet paper is in good company with other shitty things. (ha ha ha, sorry, gross humor.)

It took an hour of my kid fidgeting and not focusing to do her homework. Then we were fine, I fed her, started cooking my supper..And my dad and his woman show up unannounced. I HATE that shit. My panic disorder demands a head’s up and they refuse. I guess since they’re still hauling off my trash I should shut up, but I have one bag of trash a week and I can’t start service for less than $170 up front. If I had that kind of cash laying around, we’d be using Charmin, ffs.

Dad immediately started in on people who don’t work, people on food stamps and how he’s supporting us all with tax dollars he pays…He has to mention this EVERY SINGLE TIME he sees me. If it’s supposed to shame me, mission accomplished. My self esteem is already in the crapper and maybe that’s why he so easily guilts me, shames me, and makes me feel so damned depressed in his presence. Because while I don’t share his extremist views on people working 18 hour days until they keel over at 90…I have never felt good about being on disability or getting food assistance. I have fought with everything I’ve got trying to get stabilized and make it stick and get back to work. I guess with my own frustration at my own instability on top of his constant harranging (never directed at me personally, but it’s not veiled, either), it makes sense my mood would crash. That and them showing up without a ten second phone warning ALL THE DAMNED TIME.

Their visit lowered my mood so much I barely enjoyed my frozen lasagna and I am barely using the internet we waited two months to get. And I guess that’s on me, allowing them to get under my skin. I need to toughen up. It never used to bother beyond the nagging factor. Meds and age and counseling have created a big bucket of conscience, guilt, seeing things from the other person’s side, and self doubt galore. Maybe unmedicated uncounseled dysfunction was what made me so badass strong emotionally. Though I don’t entirely buy that because frankly, I was an immature, self centered, cruel bitch, even if a large percentage was symptomatic of my bipolar and I was quite wondermous when…sorta sane.

I just hate how self awareness has turned into self doubt and weakness.

While the sudden mood dip today was situational, I also know that going off a med I’ve been on for 16 months, and starting a new one, there’s gonna be some ebb and flow and ups and downs that aren’t my fault. Determining what is situational, chemical imbalance, or a bit of both…that is the tough part and that is more art than science.

Spook is staying at my mom’s tomorrow night so I will have a ‘me’ night. And within 2 hours I will miss my kid like crazy and freak cos she’s 20 miles away from me and she bailed on an outing with her uncle which I am sure my dad will lecture me about cos ya know, he’s lately on a kick totally against Spook spending any time with my mom. He seems to think they own my kid every weekend and it really pisses me off. But selfishly, if I surrender her on occasion…they stay away from me and it’s better for my mental health. And other than being racist, bigoted loud rednecks…they really do adore Spook and aren’t mean to her (mostly, stepmonster’s yell could shrivel a gang banger’s testicles) and she enjoys spending time with them so…it’s not entirely selfish. And I don’t like the term selfish, it’s more self preservation. You don’t eat foods that upset your tummy and make you physically ill, makes sense to avoid people who have that effect on your mind.

Day 3 of Cymbalta. Had some grogginess during the day but at night, in spite of Xanax and a triple dose of melatonin…it’s taking 3, 4 hours to fall asleep. That is maddening. But it’s a process stopping a med and starting one, I will give it time.

I just wish I could kick myself in the ass and stop letting these doom and gloomers get to me. You think I am judgey and negative and gripe a lot? I am a fraction of the extreme that my family has always occupied.

Maybe medication that works will help. IF this works. I figure if it doesn’t kick in by my next, last appt, with Dr. H and I get bounced back to nurse doc…I’m doomed.

And there you have the difference between being depressed clincally and situationally. Except in my case, it’s a catch 22 cos my depression is very real and my treatment options cause situational depression. Lose, lose.

Was supposed to be a happy day but instead…splat.

I’d really like to take a Z-whacker to splat. Then toss splat in a tree chipper.

Mood swings are so cruel, especially when you feel them so deeply and they feel so real at the time…only to often turn out later on to seem asinine.

Except with dad down the street always darkening my doorstep and my psych center unable to keep doctors…my situational depression isn’t going away any time soon so pray to the sacred pegacorn for me that Cymbalta kicks ass for me.