Archive for parenting

Ko-fi post: Redefining the word poor

Posted in disability, Ko-Fi, Mental Health Disability, poverty with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 20, 2020 by morgueticiaatoms

Please check it out and become a follower. I am trying to write more coherently and be more topic-centric on Ko-fi. The rants will keep coming here on wordpress, fear not 🙂

Like My Writing? Buy Me A Cup Of Coffee

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , , , on January 15, 2020 by morgueticiaatoms

(FYI, I loathe coffee and Dr. Pepper is way cheaper than the hoity toity coffee spots, anyway.)

A long time reader/friend suggested I use this Buy Me A Cup Of Coffee site as it is a way for people who appreciate your content enough to donate a buck or two or ten, whatever. I will, of course, add more content there as time passes, but right now, my laptop is dying, my kid needs her saxophone fixed, and I’d rather people donate out of appreciation for my writing than out of pity. I don’t think I have enough of a regular following for it to amount to anything but my friend reassured me my writing is good and I am funny and lots of people might be willing to toss in a dollar here and there. She has been in contact with me for several years so I am gonna trust her over my insecurity issues and go for it.

Please check out my pages. If nothing else, it has cute cat pics and poetry.


Groggy Grumpy Not So Happy Tree Friend

Posted in anxiety, depression, insomnia with tags , , , , , , , , , , on January 15, 2020 by morgueticiaatoms

I’ve had that shirt for ten years, though mine is faded and has holes in it. Some days it just says what I am feeling.

Loaded up on Restoril last night, fat lotta good it did. Think in total I got four hours of sleep. Which when divided by how many times I woke and couldn’t get back to sleep amounts to close to no sleep at all. Least I was able to get up this morning. Even woke before the alarm. I was gonna just lay in bed but my bladder dictated otherwise and by then I was awake and it was too close to alarm time to even lay back down and zone out. Can’t risk oversleeping and my kid being late for school. That shit costs me gas money since I have to drive her all the way to Dopia school 20 mile round trip. Sirius XM helped wake me up but then I hit a wall when all my fave stations were playing garbage simultaneously. I live for when they’ll play like ten songs in a row that don’t suck.

And I really need to stop saying ‘like’ all the time, it makes it look like I am reverting to 12 year old valley girl wanna be Morgue. EWWW.

Spook is off to school and we didn’t even have a scene. Now I am gonna try to slow my mind and get some more sleep.

Bringing me to the nap paradox where I definitely need more sleep but then when I wake up, I feel worse rather than better. On a gloomy day lik this, the last thing I need is my mood to be lowered even more by that whole thing.

The forecast is calling for some iffy weather this weekend and the cats are letting me know by running riot around the house. They broke my favorite skull wax melt burner that was a gift and it was shattered, Humpty Dumpty style. Little brattleaxes. Like my bad knee hasn’t been acting up and telling me we’re in for a weather change.

I can’t wait til next week when I get my birthday money so I can replenish my Benadryl and melatonin supply. It just works better than these prescription meds, Idk why. Need some Tylenol for the cramps and backache, too. Cripes, I take so many pills I feel like a junkie. Or an elderly person. Egad, I am rushing toward my 47th birthday just so I can get my money and afford my sleepy time cocktail, that is not normal. I thought a 90 count bottle of melatonin and a 48 count bottle of benadryl I bought at the first of the month would suffice but apparently I need to buy it in bulk at Costco. And we don’t have a Costco.

I had half a pork chop for breakfast to stave off the nausea that comes from time to time when I take my meds on an empty stomach. I cooked for myself last night, pork chops and honey glazed baby carrots. So lunch or supper will be whatever is left of that. What I really want is a Marco’s pizza but they closed our Marco’s in town, the bastards. And they keep showing commercials on TV for it and the nearest one is a 50 mile round trip so it is cruel and unusual punishment.

One thing about the last week and being so exhausted. My anxiety has been overshadowed by my living dead girl state.

I need to take my Christmas tree down, vacuum, sweep, mop, start the mountain of laundry.


I’m Your Superbeast

Posted in anxiety, bipolar depression, depression with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 12, 2020 by morgueticiaatoms

Yep, I HAD to work a Rob Zombie song title into the post. Accurate description of me as of late.

I loaded up on melatonin and half a benadryl and slept til 3 a.m. I was agitated so I took 100 mg of Trazadone. I kept waking up but I could not force myself out of bed. Finally managed it at 10:30 when my kid told me the dude’s dog was here and I needed to call and let him know to come get him. That dog must really like my kid, this is the 4th time Mac has come right to our house and he lives 2 miles out of town on a farm so that was not a brief trip.

I was half stoned, half hungover from the Trazadone. And by stoned, I mean my brain was operating on 2 out of 8 cylinders and just foggy. My body felt leaden. And I still have cramps and a backache from hell so I was cranky AF. My kid was surprisingly cleaning her room though I got irked that she promised to do it three days ago and was just now doing it. Improperly medicated, Trazadone wrecked, and hormonal, I told her if she doesn’t start doing what I tell her when I tell her to do it, I am gonna take away her beloved tablet.

From there it just became a whole ordeal, I should have kept my mouth shut but I am so damned frustrated with the way she ignores me. Only me. She does fine following directions in a timely order at school so her problem is with me and I don’t know why, beyond moving us to Armpit and her just being defiant and stubborn. The cats inside and out had no food or water, which is one of the things I have been preaching 7 years. She wants her own cat, she wants a dog, but she won’t feed them or water them daily, she won’t litter train cats and if she isn’t in the mood, she won’t walk dogs…I am just trying to teach her a little responsibility. She calls it screaming and abuse. I have made a concentrated effort to keep my voice soft but firm, using sentences and “I feel” statements rather than fighting and attacking. Makes no difference to her, she is just on the defensive 24-7.

So she had a meltdown and I started tearing up and it’s just like, thank pegacorn I can go get my meds tomorrow cos I really need them. (I had to bum ten bucks from R for the copay, turns out my dad isn’t giving me cash for my birthday so..change of plans.) Eventually things calmed and we talked and all is good now.

I did a load of her laundry and have it hang drying. I made lemonade and tea, since we’ve had to give up soda cos we are broke. I emptied the litter boxes and refilled them.I called my mom to ask how she enjoyed her birthday night out with a friend who took her out to eat and to see an Elvis impersonator and it was nice to hear she had fun. (Anyone wanna take me out to eat at Marco’s pizza and to a Motionless In White concert? LOL.) I asked her for cash for my birthday since my dad gives zero fucks what we need and she said it would be after my birthday when her check came but she’d try to give me ten. That’d at least be gas money and enough to get melatonin and benadryl. I am really kicking my ass now for buying myself those boots as a self birthday gift, but after 9 years…I deserve a decent pair of boots that I truly love so I am gonna stop feeling shitty about it. I honestly though birthday money would make up for it but…more changes of plans, life goes on.

I just feel a little off today. Not as depressed as the last couple of days but certainly not a whirlwind getting stuff done. Least I have been up and functioning and just watching tiny bits of TV and mostly listening to Octane or Turbo. Yesterday was so black in my head not even heavy metal was cheering me up. That is sad. Sadder still is my mom was out til 1 a.m. having fun at age 70 and my ass was in bed at 9:30. Wow, I am a wild woman.

These cold gloomy winter days really drain me. It’s only 4:17 p.m. and I already feel like it should be ten p.m. I am just hanging onto the thread of factual hope that in about 10 weeks spring will be here and hopefully with it, a change in my mental state. Because if the seasonal depresion starts lasting during spring and summer, I am bloody well doomed.

A couple of funnies just to say, hey, I am not entirely a downer.

I’m Ready To Get Fired From This Life Gig

Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , , on January 11, 2020 by morgueticiaatoms

NO, I am not talking about the eternal dirt nap.

But today I am just feeling so depleted on every front. My kid has become so mouthy and disrespectful I can barely stand being around her sometimes. NOTHING is ever her fault. Me asking her to do something as simple as brushing her hair or take a bath is me ‘screaming and nagging’ but she is the one who yells everything and constantly goes on the defensive. Then the next minute she is hugging me but she does not apologize because she does not ever take responsibility for her wrong behavior. And no one is gonna sell me on ‘she’s just a kid’. Ten is more than old enough to be called on rude behavior and KNOW you better apologize.

Honestly, we spent 2 weeks together over holiday break and…She wasn’t like this for the most part.

One week back at Dopia school and she is right back to making me want to run away from home. I teared up earlier cos it just hurts so much to try so hard and still be told you’re not getting it right.

Of course, between being out of Cymbalta, being hormonal and all these physical irritations…I’m pretty off kilter, I can’t blame it all on her. I teared up at an episode of Unsolved Mysteries, ffs. And tearing up really isn’t my norm outside if hormonal issues, the Lamictal really does help keep me level. Wish it worked on the anger as well.

The weather is an issue, too. Down from the fifties to 31 with freezing rain. I haven’t been out of Armpit in nearly a week so even my petri dish phobic ass is probably starting to get a little cabin fever. Not that I feel well enough to be functional out there, which is another reason I’ve put it off til Monday. Hoping my skin will thicken a bit and my body will stop deciding to have all these annoying little issues all at once.

But my kid really is bringing me down and it’s the rudeness, honestly. She gets her feelings hurt if I call her knock knock jokes lame, yet she can tell me I am fat, I am not pretty, I need a job, I’m weird- and I am never supposed to speak up. “Spook, when you say mean things like that, it is very rude and hurtful. You don’t like it when you are treated that way at school.” That is not me being a wimp, that is me pointing out a fact and trying to teach her better. But hell, earlier, I said, ‘hairbrushing hurts sometimes, that is a fact” and she told me to stop saying facts cos she doesn’t like it. Well, sorry, little girl, my job is to give you the facts and correct bad behavior so deal with it.

Were I in a better mental space, it’d slide off me for the most part. She is puberty bait so it’s gonna be a bumpy ride for the next, oh, 8 years.

Today I am just feeling fragile. Which is why I much prefer my Z Whacking rage mental states. People don’t put you down for being pissed off. They don’t call you whiny when you’re cussing and expressing anger. But if you tear up or say something is offensive or hurtful, well you’re just being a wimp. So I’ve basically trained myself to turn hurt into fury and keep myself cloaked in armadillo skin so no one can ever get to the soft underbelly.

I was feeling so lost earlier, I went Googling for mental health support and they promoted this one chat room and I went in…Couple of people said hello. I tried to explain, hey, depression, having problems, wanting to chat. I sat there for 15 minutes with ten people talking to each other and I TRIED to politely get involved and…It was like I wasn’t even there. Not one person even attempted to reply to anything I said. That was frustrating. And a reminder just how cruel life can be. it also filled me with self loathing to be so weak as to venture into such an atmosphere where I’d be left feeling even worse. Toughen up, Niki, damn it. You’re not a wimp, you’ve been doing this alone for your whole life…

Still feels like a thorn in my paw.

I am just gonna have to give up on finding peer support and go back to professional counseling, I guess. Which since I only have one option of counseling center and they are useless and I find it pretty pointless driving to town to see someone for 40 minutes twice a month. As if that’s gonna do fuck all. I’d rather just talk to others going through this mental drudgery. I get more out of talking to people who know what it is like, not just read about it and worked with people talking about it. But those days of support seem to be gone. I even tried a wordpress chat room a few years back but I think maybe 8 people popped in once, then it was like occasionally 2 or 3 people. And of course, I started writing at the time and just tuned out so even they went away as I basically abandoned the very idea that meant so much to me.

Bottom line is, I can’t do it alone. I am used to being part of a group, a supportive group of friends who run a chat support together. I was a moderator, I was the ‘on call’ person on IM for those in need. I miss that. As much as I may have helped anyone then, they helped me, as well. Because if I can’t comfort myself, talking to someone else and maybe comforting them a little helps me feel less useless. And we had a quirky little room called depression fun room, cos much as we did discuss serious issues, we were also a little goofy and had some fun, as well, in our own ways. It was 20 years ago, time to move on, I know, but the way people text these days, it’s basically a one on one chat room on your damn phone or tablet. Shame I don’t have any knowledge of creating an app that could fulfill the need. I’ve looked for apps and it seems the only ones not haunted by trolls and ads and garbage are the ones that cost money. Like, the professional counseling apps that cost like $40-$85.

I’m out.

And I am feeling pretty fucking jujune right now for feeling so damn needy and not just being able to let go of the past. But it worked, it gave me a purpose, a reason to keep fighting, it showed me people cared. I need that. WordPress used to do that for me, but people click like and move on, few people bother to interact and while I have no intention of giving up this blog…It’s no longer enough during these really black times when my mental state is eclipsing my inner badass and making me feel like life is just a pointless gig of being tortured 24-7.

Bitch of it is, a week from now, I will probably be back in my own little world, giving zero fucks about ‘support’ beyond the few friends I do have here. I am having a needy bitch day and with all that’s bringing me down, is it any wonder? I always swore to be transparent and truthful on this blog so that means I have to include my not so finest moments that even I find cringe worthy. But it’s okay to be vulnerable. People who bottle everything up are emotional IQ midgets or powder kegs so at least I am not letting it build up and turn me into a ticking time bomb.

Still…I really like the idea of some sort of mental health support chat or app or whatever. Informal, not uptight, little light hearted at times. Never rude, never troll-y, never so uptight you can’t go in and say ‘fuck life’ without being booted for being offensive. I want…reality, not fakeness. Big difference between telling people to fuck off and saying fuck life, though the uptight people do not agree. Sorry to offend your sensibilities, now go remove the stick from your asses.

Oh, there’s a little piss and vingear left in me. Not much. Not even Sirius music is bringing my mood up today. I’m not even relishing bedtime because…I still have to return to my own headspace so what escape is that especially when it’s perpetually interrupted?

This is just a very bad mental health day for me.

I will comfort myaelf with the thought that when I do go to sleep, chance are I will have a warm purring kitty cat next to me and when I do wake in the middle of the night and roll over…they will be right there beside, asleep and purring happily. Purring cats make me happy.

Maybe I need to print out Baby Yoda pictures, he makes me happy too. Oh, right, I can’t afford printer ink cos it comes from golden hand milked squids.

Today I am a little simper-y and pathetic.

I will be back with my rant-y Z Whack-y self soon enough.

Pray to the sacred pegacorn posse.

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.

Mom Fail A Million And Counting

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

I managed to get to town today to fetch my kid’s gift from the summer camp people…

And only on the way back about 4 miles…

did it occur to me…


And between buying her Christmas, trying to keep the heat on, my ass trash bank hitting me with 3 months’ ‘service fees’ at once and gas in the car…I have 22 cents in the bank.

There I thought I was doing so well.

Someone pointed out I could use newspaper. Um, I can’t afford the subscription so I have no newspaper.

I asked my family if they had any to spare or could lend me ten bucks…

No go.

So I guess come Christmas morning, she will have gifts but they won’t be wrapped. 😦

I am agitated with myself, getting so caught up in all the stress and drama and good intentions, which frankly, mean fuck all when your brain is ten thousand leagues under the sea of depression.

I know I pondered buying wrapping paper a few times, then thought, nah, I have time.

What I did not see coming was the delay on my heat assistance grant and all those bank fees. I mean, I leave $20 in the account for ‘just in case’ then my bank basically drains the account for ‘service fees’ for three months. WTF? Not even a head’s up about it.I go to check my balance and woohoo, 22 cents.

I am thoroughly disgusted with myself.

I suppose it’s a snotty ‘first world problem’ and I should count all the blessings we have but Spook specifically asked this year that her gifts be wrapped and not all just piled into a couple of giftbags. (What can I say, I suck at wrapping and I phone it in, I suck.)

Since she has been so harsh on me lately with her behavior and cruel words, the thought of failing her again has me very stressed.

How could I forget something so basic?

My brain really could use cruise control, like cars have. So it’d run a constant rate of speed instead of being all over the damn place resulting in me doing things or not doing them all willy nilly.

Hope Spook forgives me. Doubtful. She still brings up me not walking her to the bus stop on ice when she was 5.

Kid is a master at holding grudges. Which means I am gonna be on a perpetual guilt trip between her, my dad, and my mom.

I want a new travel agent.