Archive for seasonal affective disorder

Spazzing Out

Posted in anxiety, anxiety disorders with tags , , , , , , , , , , on November 26, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Not an hour ago I posted about an episode of sudden, unexplained anxiety bordering on panic.

Well, I waited wayyyy too long to take Xanax. I am now in panxiety territory-where panic and anxiety meet and explode.

What if your heating assistance grant isn’t approved?

You haven’t gotten notice about an increase in food benefits since losing child support, what if there is some issue and you’ve been denied? It never takes 2 weeks for a decision…except that time it took a month but this MUST mean something went awry and now I can’t fucking feed my kid!!!!

Your kid came home spouting off about ‘bad juju feelings’, what the hell have you done to this child with all your psycobabble talk and superstition based ‘bad juju feelings’????

The weather is supposed to be changing, what if you can’t get to town to buy Thanksgiving food or the car breaks down and is fucked up for good?

What kind of mother lets the home run out of toilet paper so you have to swipe a roll from family and you’re still running out with a week to go before the check comes?

Oh, fuck, what if the check doesn’t come for some reason and you’ve got no grant to cover heat or food or Christmas or to buy toilet paper, the sky is falling, you’re a complete fuck up and failure as a mother, worthless!!!

My mood turned from bleak to black. I can’t even enjoy the show I was previously sort of getting into. The panxiety has stormed the castle and panic ninjas are coming at me from all sides with their paranoia laced throwing stars and panic enhanced swords…


I’m scared, I am really, really scared.

And what the hell kind of loving family can’t spring a buck to buy us a pack of toilet paper, for fuck’s sake???? Considering I took half my day to help them out last week when stepmonster needed a ride and accompaniment to her medical procedures…

Oh, and what about that so called good friend R who can’t even be bothered to drop ten bucks into my paypal account to help out til I can pay back when my check comes?

Oh, and what kind of loser ends up in this shitty position?

Oh, right. The deadbeat flaked on child support for the 4th time in 3 years and I can’t do a fucking thing about it because no one knows where he went (or he swore them to secrecy) and he doesn’t even update his address for court records, as he is supposed to do under law, being ya know, foreign….

My bad for relying on child support to support my child. What an irresponsible flake I am.

Oh, man, to be 20 years young, a hundred pounds thinner, and I’d so be doing internet webcam porn for a living. I don’t have pride when it comes to caring for Spook.

I also don’t have a computer with a working mic or webcam so even if I could find a fetish niche for fluffy nearing-50 ickiness, I couldn’t pull it off.


Society wants the disabled to get off the dole and be contributing members but when it comes to mental health disability, they do nothing to make it more accessable for us to use our skills without worsening our conditons…

Oh, wow, I just went off the fucking reservation…Total panic. Oh, and now I am kicking myself for the reservation comment as it is culterally insensitive…

Bloody fucking hell!!!!!

I REALLY wish this goddamn hell hole of the midwest had axe throwing or Rage rooms. I need some REAL fucking therapy that involves breaking shit and relieving pent up aggression and fear and paranoia.

I miss my voodoo doll (bawling emoji here) He was lost in the move. How it healed my spirits to stab him with knitting needles or bashing his head against things. It only sounds fucked up, I swear. It’s a bloody mass marketed doll, not specific to anyone. Just…shitty things life throws at me. I want another voodoo/dammit doll.

Of course, right now, I’d settle for $20 to refill my meds and buy some toilet paper and put gas in the car.

Okay, the Xanax is finally kicking in…Sanity is peeking in, waving at me shyly, seeing if it’s okay to return, I suppose. Not even the crazy wants to live my super crazy.

Though from my sci-fi show Lost Girl, they called a sucubus crazy and she pointed out, “The proper term is mentally unstable.”

I myself am fond of ‘sanity challenged’.

But it all leads back to society’s perception of crazy.

Fuck society and its collective ignorance when it comes to mental illness. Oh, behavioral health.

That term needs to die in a fucking fire.

Black Sunshine

Posted in depression with tags , , , , , , , on March 10, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Oh wondermous day! It’s actually not raining, not freezing, and the sun has come out to play. Mind you I am not out basking in it but I have a light sensitivity so I do tend to limit my direct exposure to sun. Now I am not going to debate how much sunshine helps with winter depression. BUT, with today proving MY INDIVIDUAL CASE, it isn’t simply lack of light. It is feeling cold constantly. Today I am only wearing one wear of clothing, I have done dishes, and don’t feel like gargling razor blades.

One of the weirdest things the ‘professionals’ have touched on with me is that I tend to dye my hair bright colors or go jet black and 99.9% of my clothing is all black. Me wearing color is kind of like finding a pegacorn. It is not a factor in my depression, I just like black, it’s slimming and since I’m a klutz it prevents multiple changes of clothing during the day if I slop food or beverage on myself. It also, contrary to what this tiny rural area thinks, does not make me a goth or emo. Frankly, I’m not all that familiar with either of those groups but it sounds like a big bummer to have to color inside the lines and live up to a label 34-7. I just find it amusing that otherwise intelligent, well educated psychiatrists and counselors actually believe that wearing black is a manifestation of depression. I like being black sunshine. (Awesome White Zombie song.) It really fucks with people’s bias and preconceived notions when they are expecting you to be all monotone and sad and unfriendly based on your wardrobe…and instead you turn out to be quite friendly, full of (fake) cheer, and occasionally on the peppy side.

I was a net troll before there was such a thing as net trolls, I just do it in real life.

No plans today. Spook is off doing some redneck-y thing with dad and his woman so I am home alone doing…ugh, housework. The place smells musty and damp, as it does after every heavy rain. I am using my generic scentsy things (one is a skull with a green bulb, so cool, was a gift!) trying to counter that wet dog smell (we don’t even have a dog). Also, sometimes I find scent therapy to be helpful. This started back in the 90’s when I got big time into scented candles from Sally Beauty Supply. Which closed, then reopened here years later, but discontinued the mint and pear candles that so elevated my mood and soothed me. I’ve always been a bit of a pyro with the candles (we used to use the tall jar religious candles when we were kids and burn paper to see all the different color flames, I did not have great adult supervision) but collecting belly button lint would just be silly. So candles and candle holders it is.

I was thinking how utterly mundane everything about this entire state is. All we have to lay claim to fame on is Lincoln and Chicago. Lincold was a seeminly decent man who did good things, and Chicago, well, quickly becoming a murder capitol…But it’s so dullll. I wanna be from a state where there claim to fame is a giant pink donut or the biggest ball of twine. Frankly, I just want to be anywhere but here. If we could afford to move to a less severe warmer climate I might just see my depression become manageable and only need a stabilizer and something for anxiety. I know that seems simplistic and a little delusional but I am truly that convinced the inability to feel warm for months is what makes me more depressed than less sunlight. Sure, a string of gloomy sunless days is often a bummer but it’s only 2 degrees warmer today than yesterday yet the sun warms the house so…

But yea, psych people, let’s make it about my wardrobe choices, the slasher flicks I love, and the aggressive metal I listen to. Guess it saves you from actually having to do your damn jobs.

OOOh, I love it when I get my piss and vinegar mental state back. It may be why I survived a 45 minute call from my dad this morning during which he went on another tirade about how the hell did I get on disability, nothing’s wrong with my brain, blah blah blah. Agree to disagree cos I can’t have a battle of wits with an unarmed person. Usually he makes me feel shitty about myself, like I am doing something wrong when I am simply working within what the system offers for my situation. Today…it rolled off of me. Mental state is a huge deal. Not just moods, but your entire place where thoughts and perception are processed.

Side note, I was awake at 2 a.m. and did not get back to sleep til 5 a.m. So 6, with the spring forward on the clocks. There was nothing on TV to even bore me properly so I opened the laptop and let a playlist of Unsolved Mysteries (Robert Stack version) roll…I didn’t need a melatonin or a Xanax, I drifted back to sleep and got up easily enough. So maybe this ‘blue light’ from screens thing isn’t my problem. And when I had a less ancient desktop and could run a playlist all night with the monitor off I really wasn’t exposed to blue screen to keep me awake. Maybe some of my sleep dysfunction stems from my old desktop dying right as we moved here and so I can’t run my favorite soothing shows in the background. (Hey, right narrator, even ‘vicious, violent attack against a van of nuns’ sounds soothing). I don’t dare run the laptop very hard, it hasn’t had the fans cleaned in 2 years so overheating is a likelihood.

So now I just gotta come up with about $1500 to pay my entire heat bill, license my car, insure said car, buy my kid’s Easter, get cat litter so the house doesn’t reek, and replace a desktop tower.

Bleak sunshine is more like it if I think of that.

So I won’t think about it today. I’ve served enough time in depressive purgatory, today I am on parole from my prison sentence.

Ugh, damn, now I gotta feed myself. Still lobbying for meal in a pill cos this choosing what to cook then cooking it then having dirty dishes…and then I get to hear about my weight being too high…Yep, give me one more pill to shovel with my usual rainhow if I can’t have pizza, burgers, and pasta. Cooked by someone else.

I’m not lazy, I’m just not domesticated in Goddess form.

I Need A Light Out Of This Darkness

Posted in depression with tags , , , , , on March 7, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Another day freezing my butt off even inside with the furnace cranked. More snow. Another unplanned nap. It’s becoming too common and I find this deviation from my norm disturbing. Surely for someone’s behavior to alter so drastically and abruptly it must be a sign you’re dying or something. Or it’s the soul crushing body draining thing called depression.

I don’t know I have ever felt this trapped in my life. Trapped by money problems, trapped by the donor not paying support, trapped by a useless lawyer who has dragged this out 3 years and multiple appearances, always geared toward being fair to the deadbeat. Trapped by a barely competent and utterly apathetic psych nurse with no hope in sight of finding someone more of a fit to me with more experience treating medication resistant cases. I feel trapped living in this tiny town yet it is feeding into my old agoraphobic tendencies to the point I can’t stand being gone more than hour. I hate it here for no other reason than it’s my dad’s redneck bigoted haven where they CANCEL SCHOOL SO PEOPLE CAN ATTEND A BASKETBALLE PLAYOFF GAME. I hate that I can’t even get a call back from McDonald’s for a 10 hour a week job sweeping and mopping. I know I will crash and burn, because I am so fragile at this time, but I am damn sure willing to try.

It goes back to a prior post when I pointed out the flaw in this old addage of ‘give a man a fish, he eats for a day, teach a man to fish, he can eat for life.” And if you got no fishing gear and no seed money for bait and no one willing to teach you and you are like a deer in the headlights, unable to move forward or backward…That addage is well intentioned but realistic these days, it is not. Once upon a time a willingness to simply try and do your best was enough to get hired for work. These days, in this rural area, you have 90 people competing for two housekeeping positions at a motel. Spoiler, the mentally fucked chick with bad references for flake outs and meltdowns doesn’t get the job.

I feel utterly trapped further because the ONE resource I used to have was that the local counseling center was a beacon in the night. I knew they were there for me to vent to, to help me sort through what is bipolar and seasonal depression and anxiety, what is clinical versus situational. Since they got gobbled up by the big hospital and changed to a ‘behavioral center’, it has become nothing but a place to get slapped with more arbitrary labels that don’t take into consideration any psychiatric imbalance. That is not going to be of use to me, nor is the possibility that the person I know, well, personally, who is a psychologist there, would have access to my files and she is a known breaker of confidentiality. I tried to report her once but without proof, they couldn’t do a damn thing. I tried giving them a bad review on line and it, too, vanished. But some guy posted ‘worst counseling ever’ and that they published. How can I not feel trapped?

I feel like this seasonal depression is going to devour me if I have to endure another six month winter depression here. Yet because things aren’t settled with the donor as far as Spook goes, I don’t feel I will ever be free to make plans to pull up stakes and get the hell out of here for both our sanity. I do believe he is vindictive enough to not see her for 8 years, avoid even filling out court ordered visitation papers, then haul ass to court to have me arrested if I left the state with her. I’d give up all future support rights if he’d just sign off his parental rights since he’s not doing her a damn bit of good in any way. The longer he is out of her life and the more she matures, he has missed his window to forge a meaningful bond with her so while this idget judge I landed doesn’t agree, I think the donor’s rights should be totally stripped. The man isn’t even present in my life and he still makes me feel imprisoned and crazy.

I failed today at the productivity thing. Not like it was a shocker, when it is cold and gray and snowing, my body just kind of shuts down and I take to fort blankie. Some days I am able to do small accomplishments, some days, I kick ass and take names then forget the names. And other days it is just a wash because if I managed to care for my child and not be driven to commit hari kari, well, for me, that is as good as some days get, sadly. I made chili today using this ground beef stepmonster gave me and it was clearly labeled and looked normal enough but man, it has the texture of deer meat and that grosses me out. Yes, I remember the time my friend’s mom served us chili and only told us it was deer meat afterward. I KNEW something wasn’t normal about it then. Now I just wonder if all the meds are fucking up my tastebuds and distorting things. Oh and one new thing that is totally out of character for me is I bought this gallon container of vanilla ice cream and I’ve been hand mixing myself milk shakes. Me craving sweets,aside from soda or sweet tea, is not at all normal for me.

I swear I just get worse by the day instead of making any progress. And the pressure being placed on me by those around me is crushing my spirit. My poor kid, she has no idea how her neverending list of “can you buy me this when you go into town’ is breaking my heart. Because, no, I can’t buy it. My car insurance and registration are about to expire because I can’t come up with $180 by March 31. And I think what irks me even more is that last year dad deemed it necessary to buy me this car and they knew the move cost me big time so they paid to license it yet this year I’m down over $300 a month income to no fault of my own and…nothing. Yet their 23 year old man child gets everything handed to him and whatever money he might make helping neighbors, he gets to keep to spend on video games. They don’t charge him rent or food or anything. When I was sixteen the fuck told me to get a job or get out. My big sin is not having a penis. Maybe that is why I do have a huge problem with misogyny, because it’s been forcefed to me from within my own family, basically teaching me I am only capable of being a workhorse cos I am a large woman or a secretary fetching coffee and getting her ass grabbed by the boss.

Nothing would make me happier, or feel more proud of myself, would be to find a way to make money on line and support my kid, all on my own. (A legit way to make money on line isn’t as easy as one might thing, those positions seem to be as rare as pegacorns and leprechauns). Working from home, however, is the only thing I feel pretty confident that I could do, even during the depressions. If left to my own devices and pace, I can be productive, I just need breaks here and there. Sometimes to regroup, sometimes to go freak out and ride out a panic attack. None of which is feasible in the potential local jobs which consist of fast food places. I even flinchingly tried to go through a temp service to return to work at the factory I once served time in and it turns out, they have blacklisted me and NONE of the temp agencies will hire me based on their ‘reference’. Yeah, I didn’t think it was legal to blacklist people, I figured it was some old world Hollywood scandal type thing but as it turns out…not so much. And if you can’t get hired at these places without first going through a temp agency and they won’t take you on…

Do I really need to reiterate I feel trapped?

Maybe in a few weeks the gloom and cold will subside and the Lexopro will start doing something positive and that seasonal misery will lift. I don’t think the professionals have a bloody clue how crippling depression during winter is for those of us who don’t respond to their only solution of light lamps. Also kind of annoying to be told to get another one when the last one caused you to have the worst headaches of your life. Oh, and I don’t have any money, for fuck’s sake. Do these doctors and nurses and counselor’s even have functional hearing? Because no one is hearing me.

I’m just gonna hunker down and brave the next few days of gloom. They are predicting 40’s during the day but without sunshine, it still makes the inside of the house feel like it’s 10 degrees outside. I don’t see what else I can do, there is no light in this tunnel and I’m not gonna step into blackness.

I guess that’s where I lack true faith. Faith is being willing to take that first step without knowing if there is a staircase below. Very beautiful sentiment. But I am not risking broken bones to display faith in anything. Call it a character flaw.

Read my short fiction here.

End rant. Spork of fortitude for anyone who made it to the end.

I’m Okay…Well, I’m Not Okay, but I Am Not A Danger To Myself

Posted in depression with tags , , , , , on March 5, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

A friend texted and noted I had a password protected post and this has never been something I’ve done so I guess it set off alarm bells. Then my sister read the story, then read it to mom, and I guess they all got to ruminating if I am in self harm mode. The answer is definitely not. I want to share my writing and the joy of being able to write, even if in small increments, yet I also want to be true to my own convictions in keeping this blog mental health based. So any future writings will be posted on Verse From The Crypt and I will give those interested a heads up and the link. Thanks to those who cared enough to worry. Fuck you to those who could not care less.And kudos to those who took the word fiction for what it is. The emotions in that story are very real but not my personal story.

The monthly oompa loompa pre cursor continues. (You get a little off the normal schedule at my ancient dinosaur walking age, no drama, just irregular cycles.) Irregular or not, they are kicking my ass. I napped again today and that is so not my norm aside from hormone rampage time. My mood has been very dark, very hopeless. My thinking patterns are still locked on to this debacle with the psych nurse. I think she tried to kill me this time. She had to send in the script and there was no refill on the Trazadone yet she refilled it and if I were to take that on top of Wellbutrin and Lexapro, I could easily get that damn serotonin syndrome she’s been harping on from the word go. She failed to refill my Xanax and I had to wait two days for them to get back to the pharmacy and wait til I need to make a trip to town to multitask and save gas money…I really think this woman either has it out for me or is simply incompetent. Not the first time the pharmacy has caught her making mistakes, either. i think if she were more engaged and less standoffish I might be inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt cos she’s too young to have much practical experience. We’re all new to something at some point and make mistakes… Yet had it not been for an alert phamacist and my own knowledge of these interactions, this woman could easily have landed me in the hospital. And it doesn’t bode too well for the clinic director who allegedly oversees all the nurse practitioner’s cases.

I am ready for sleep. It’s staying light out longer and longer whivh for me is grueling. Depression doesn’t like daylight, it wants only the calm of darkness when phones stop ringing, no knocks on the door are imminent…It’s about to get worse cos we move the clocks forward Saturday night. I am hoping this helps with my gutter mood but if the temps don’t get out of single digits and stay that way, no amount of sunlight is going to help me. I don’t know why the professionals refuse to believe that someone might be different than what their stupid Douchebaggery Simpleton Manual says.

I am a couple days in on 10 mg Lexapro and I am remembering why I said ‘hell no’ the first time around. It makes me so damn itchy I swear I have bugs in my hair and on my skin. Maddening. But this was my idea and her attitude tells me if I don’t at least give this one a couple of months, she is going to ‘chastise’ me again. Cos it is totally my fault the meds don’t work, I must want it that way and will it so with my psychic abilities. NOT. She never did raise my Atarax back up after discontinuing the Trazadone so now I have to choose whether to take them during the day to combat the Lexopro bugs or save them for night for my slow sleep cocktail. Damn it I do, damned if I don’t.

Oh, I feel I must include something that really does not reflect well on my sanity and yet it has repeatedly become a problem. My kid attends an after school program on Tuesdays at the church. Usually her uncle brings her home (cos nothing creepy bout a 23 year old man hanging at a kid’s afterschool program every week) but today he could not. So I had to fetch her, no biggie except for my spleen getting icicles. But for the second time, I GOT FUCKING LOST. In a town of 400 people. How is that even possible? I drove around and around tring to remember the street and crossroad, looking for a tall steeple looking building. I’d been there once before and got lost then too. I simply cannot retain information anymore, it’s like my intellect is rotting. Has been rotting since the Nardil incident of 2000. But honestly, everyone is on my ass to get a job but if I am so altered and impaired I get lost in Armpit…I’d have to lie my ass off to get even McDonald’s to hire me. And one of the things they ask is, are you a fast learner and can you keep up with the pace. My honesty in saying no, those are not my strong suits, may well be why they never got back to me. My brother, however, the mental redneck midget, is trying to get on there and no doubt they will hire him. Though if they do they must be blind cos I swear he has moss growing on his teeth and the mental age of a kid younger than my 9 year old. I am not being mean, either, it’s the truth. But I am sick of being told I don’t try and being told I am wrong to be honest about being up front about my strengths and weaknesses and limitations. Your parents spend your whole childhood telling you to always tell the truth, then when you’re an adult they are the people telling you to lie your ass off just to get in the door.

So yea, I’m not really okay but I’m not a danger to myself. With the hormonal rage, however, I cannot say I’m not at least a verbal banshee type threat to those around me who look at me the wrong way.

Weekly Bath-Check

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

Yep, I bathed, I feel victorious. Sort of. And to my credit, it was my second bath in 7 days. I forced myself to bathe when I was sick because two days of sweating through clothing leaves you looking and feeling like a member in a 90’s grunge band. I wish I could be more on top of the basic hygiene 101 thing, I really do. I just don’t see it happening, not with a sucky bath tub. As if depression isn’t bad enough, being forced to take baths adds insult to injury. I think the whole time we lived at the trailer I had maybe 2 baths. I much prefer showers. Unfortunately, the likelihood of this place ever having even a make shift shower in unlikely. It’s not tiled or sealed up enough, even with a curtain, water would go everywhere and the floor is already caving in. I can’t seem to escape the cycle of busted floors and wonky furnaces. Not by choice, that is for sure.

Now that I have properly bored everyone with my rambling…

I felt so good Friday because I accomplished a lot. Since then, I’ve done very little and I can honestly think of no better excuse than my body feels like a lead weight. It’s like moving a big rig through sludgey mud. At some point, more damage is done than progress is made so unless you wanna strip the gears and trash the engine, it’s wisest to just sit idle for awhile. I know, the professionals say this is wrong and yet, it was one of the most useful things a therapist ever taught me. Of course, that was the in the 90’s before therapy became behavioral health and this ‘tough love’ stance became commonplace.Allowing myself to just feel depressed has become quite useful. If I stop pressuring myself and guilting myself, occasionally the productivity will simply happen. It’s not looking good today but I am still being chewed up and spit out by seasonal affective disorder so it makes sense. This warmer colder extreme is mopping the floor with me. People think S.A.D is this mopey “I’ve got the blues” thing and it’s really a metastatic disorder that few people can conquer, til the seasons shift and change. Cold weather saps my strength.

Also proving to be a hindrance is the bright sunlight triggering my anxiety. I took a hydroxyz ‘for the anxiety’ but it does not do a damn thing for anxiety. It doesn’t make me sleepy. It stops my general all over itchiness, that is about it. But I have to be very careful with what little Xanax they’ve left me with. I’ve got this sick feeling come Thursday, it will be cut again. I am going to riot. Vilifying a legit medication infuriates me. Also infuriating is that by being outraged, I am basically feeding into their wrong impression of someone hooked on Xanax and acting out because it’s being removed from my cocktail. What I have to ask myself is,would I have this strong a reaction if removed from a non benzo medication that works as well. I would be infuriated. If something works, you don’t rock the boat. This isn’t about being hooked on Xanax, it is about how effective it is whereas no other med ever has been. If licking a hallucinogenic toad was effective and they suddenly banned toad licking, I’d feel the same way. I just want what works, I don;t much care what brand or class of drug it is. Only the psych profession could make you feel bad for having very pure and legit emotions for a highly effective med.

I am still feeling unamused with all this mental health stuff. I look back and there were times I was in a worse situation or worse mental state yet found some joy in life and actually liked myself and had some fun…Now anhedonia is my default state and the nurse doesn’t seem to care. That is my perception, which I won’t go so far as to say I’m always right, but also, I’m not always wrong. Much like a patient can dislike a doctor or nurse, they,too, can dislike a patient. I get that vibe from her. And I feel so foolish having declared that I liked her after one appointment with my awesome doctor sitting in. She really put on a show that day and I despise people who do that. I judged her based on 10 minutes and her wardrobe and the fact she was very pretty and young and I was thinking, sweet, new blood, she might have new ideas! Now it looks like I am fickle but I swear she pretended to care at the very first appointment. Like it’s uncommon for people to put on a show for a supervisor or superior then revert to a less stellar position. I just feel so much self loathing and embassment that I made such a quick snap to judgement based on someone’s appearance. That isn’t like me at all, I am actually pretty bored with fashion and beauty. The pretty people are so often very hideous inside. Man, I feel like an idget.Just gotta keep telling myself there is nothing wrong with wanting to see the best in someone and no shame in being wrong about them.

Though it does lend credibility to my whole ‘trust no one, like no one’ policy. If you expect the worst, there’s nowhere to go but up. If you expect the best and it turns into a shit show…You’re kind of screwed.

Twisted Up Inside

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , , , , , on December 24, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

T minus 7 hours and counting til we’re due at my mom/sister faction for the holiday spectacle. Spook is super excited cos, hey, kid, gifts, sweets. I am uber nervous and filled with dread. Thanksgiving saw everyone sniping at each other and my mom going off on me about how I am an ogre for insisting my kid eat a meal before a whole pie…

Who knows what tonight will bring. Topping it off are my sinus pressure fucking with my ears and I have cramps and the whole pms shebang. I don’t know what to expect except feeling like shit because they got to be the cool people who bought all the gifts. Though last I heard they needed someone to buy food so we could have a meal tonight which is indicative of their priorities. I made sure my kid has food, the cats are taken care of (our fosters finally went to their new home with an old farmer and his wife), the heat bill is paid in full, car insurance is current, we have laundry, bath, toilet paper, dish soap, all those little things that add up but you kind of need. Car has plenty of gas. So I’m not hulking out on the santa thing, not that I ever really do. Not since mom and sis make it a competition no one else can win. Mainly because the one thing I have in common with my dad’s faction is that we take care of the necessities first, frivolity second, thus we’re ‘assholes’ to the other faction.

I just want it over with and not simply to be humbug or whatever. I really don’t feel well and I really don’t feel like I have a grip over my emotions which is not a good state to engage with family during. So my insides twist and contort and time passes so slowly when I just want it over with so I can have some semblance of sanity back. I’ve felt like everything has been put on hold, waiting for this nightmare to end, and not even bullying myself into ‘just get it done and you will feel much better’ has accomplished nothing. I just gotta ride out this holiday depression and be grateful for what we have and not focus on what we don’t have. (But if I don’t get the speakers I wanted, THE SAME ONES, I will forever know my family does not listen to me nor give a shit about how I feel…so much was lost and changed this year, I just need this ONE old familiar thing back to make me feel less of a sense of loss, insane as it sounds.)

Knowing them, though, they either got a different brand cos it was cheaper or they talked to the ‘gamers’ in the family who insisted I need some ridiculously overpriced set up that I will loathe. It’s supposed to be the thought that counts but when your family still can’t give you the right kind of chocolate after 40 years, it becomes clear you’re not who they are thinking of, they’re just saying ‘this is who we think you are’.

I sound like a selfish bratty bitch. Yeah, well, the ovary oompa loompas aren’t playing nice and I am in pain, not to mention feeling like an emotional powder keg about to blow. Only one thing to do.

THIS song cheers me up every damn time I play it-and I play it, and sing it, a lot, even during non holiday months. Corey Taylor’s fucking awesome.

And yes, my kid knows the words to this song, cos I am also fucking awesome. 🙂

The Morgueticia Project

Posted in depression, seasonal affect disorder with tags , , , , , , , on September 25, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

So in a bizarre twist for me since I’m not big on sitcoms, I recently started watching “The Mindy Project”. Thus…this post’s title. It means I am a work in progress but I am trying to become better, I suppose. As for the mild shame I feel watching a cutesy popular bubblegum show…It’s like soda. Zero nutritional value, lots of pointless calories, and definitely too much can give you a bloated aching tummy and make your tastebuds reject vapidity and sugar…But I LIKE IT. I don’t always like Mindy, she’s way too self absorbed and confident and annoying for my tastes yet I can’t deny the flawed character is still charming and the ensemble support cast makes it worth my while. Though like soda at some point enough is enough, I gotta walk away from bingeing and do some drama or something. But I’ll always return to soda pop even if it feels shameful. (WHY OH WHY CAN’T ANYONE LOVE ME AND ALL MY FLAWS AND IRRITATING QUIRKS THE WAY EVERYONE SEEMS TO LOVE HER???ooops, meant to just think that, not write it…Bygones.)

In a biarre space because I ran out of my normal non drowsy allergy pills so I had to get some off stepmonster and Benadryl just makes me feel uber spaced out and wonky. But I am breaking out in hives due to stress as well as flea bites and such and I was in dire straits to turn to family for a favor. A few days from now I am sure I will hear through the backstabbing family grapevine that dad and stepmonster are irked at me asking for allergy pills and I should manage money better and get a job and…ugh, family, so much bloody drama and none of it the good kind. And we’re not even funny like the families on Roseanne or The Middle or Young Sheldon. Just…ugh. I am trying to roll with it but I am the only person who ever changes and sometimes it honestly feels not like I am better than them but that I have simply…outgrown them. I don’t want to trash each other and have it be a big gossip mill but it’s…never…gonna…change. And all I can do is practice polite avoidance lest I be sucked into it all so everyone assumes I am stuck up and look down on them but I have just been through way too much therapy, way too much agonizing self awareness, to remain in the stagnated family cycle of nastiness. Anyway…I will be glad to get some loratadine cos this Benadryl haze makes me feel drunk and high but doesn’t put me to sleep and barely helps with itchiness so…

The season changed. Our temps dropped from mid nineties down to lower 50’s. For seasonal affective disorder these extremes are pretty tough. I was so bored when I visited California because it was always the same, sunny and warm, day after day, and it rained twice in 6 weeks and I just thought, ugh, I miss the change of seasons…Yet I know how negative the extreme weather changes are for my mental health so were an opportunity to relocated to more stable weather to arise…I’d be vapor. I have become that convinced that the weather and seasons are part of why I struggle with my disorders and med resistance.

Had a couple of days I didn’t feel too bad, after a week of ‘marathon’ days. That was when it was so hot out and was still 90 in the house in spite of open windows and fans and all I enjoyed was going to sleep and ‘riding it out’. And that’s how life feels to me as of late. A marathon. If I can just survive the next two days, if I can make it the next week, or if I can just fake my way through the next few hours til bedtime…It’s exhausting to view things that way but I don’t know how to shut it off. I’m just thankful I got the two semi decent mental days, I was able to get my lawn mowed before entering into Benadryl loopyville.

I have a doctor appt Wednesday, I guess that could explain why my moderate anxiety has morphed into breaking out into hives level. It’s pretty disgusting to realize I am, at 45, still the same nervous Nellie I was at 13 about doctor appointments. Oh, well, I go in and tell her the truth. I quit the lithium because that abnormal liver function test terrified me and I’ve been asking to get off of it 2 years and no one will listen to me so..executive decision. I still have Lamictal and I’m not manic or hypo and physically, I feel like I lost 20 pounds. Just more energy, less lethargy, the ability to feel things has returned…Not seeing a downside here but if it came to that, I’d go back on the garbage. And i hate calling it garbage cos lithium works soooo well for bipolar. But the fact my mental state has improved since stopping it indicates they might have been overmedicating me on that front yet undermedicating on other fronts.

My sleep is fucked up as ever. We ran out of melatonin. Restoril does zilch for me, benadryl doesn’t make me sleepy, and I quit drinking for the most part so it’s just toss and turn and get up and down and wake over and over every night. Sat/Sun I woke at 2 a.m. and was so itchy I couldn’t get back to sleep. Wasn’t til after I crawled to stepmonster for Benadryl and Spook stayed at their place that I came home and could finally fall back to sleep. Only to be wakened when she returned and I gotta say, I felt worse than if I’d just stayed up the whole time. And all I could look forward to was sleep because man, if you run on empty all the damned time…it kicks your ass.

So even though it’s not yet 8:30 p.m. I am gonna kill the light, watch some Frasier, and wait to get sleepy. Maybe I’ll nod off by midnight and get a couple of solid hours before I wake again. I hope. Plus side, with the season change and getting dark earlier soon it will get cold and my body will convince me bedtime is at 7 p.m. simply so I can get under the warm blankies and perhaps even my brain will be fooled into thinking it’s sleepy time.

Though I am starting to think I have a better chance at a real live pet pegacorn than getting 7 solid hours of sleep.