Archive for Seroquel


Posted in depression with tags , , , , , , on December 1, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

I had a kid free night as Spook went to spend the night at my mom and sister’s. Figured it’d be a good night to catch up on some sleep and maybe wake up around midnight and kick ass around the house with cleaning and organizing. Instead I took 25 mg Seroquel with 3mg melatonin and…accomplished the closest to a waking coma as one can do. I kept waking up, thinking I should check on my kid, then remembering she wasn’t here…I needed to go to the bathroom but my body felt leaden and I just stopped moving around to put my discomfort on the backburner. I had no clue what time it was, but if it was light out I didn’t want to risk being awake at 6 a.m. The cats needed food and are used to being fed at 7 a.m. so they were rioting, knocking stuff over, biting me on the face, chewing my hair…and still…I couldn’t seem to get up.

Then I drifted back off for what seemed like a split second and I swear I heard so clearly my kid calling, “Oh, mom…” And I say bolt upright, disoriented and panicked, and said, “Yeah, babe?” But she’s not here.

It was a little after 8 a.m. by then and the bladder was done being put on ignore and the cats had knocked over the trash and I needed some water or whatnot to drink as my mouth had been bone dry for hours and I had been too comatosed to move. The alarm was set for 8:30 anyway so I dragged myself out of bed, and it was made easier because the sound of my kid calling for me was so real, my heart was pounding as if I’d run a race. I tended to the bladder, the cats, got my beverage, and the phone rang but I ignored it, figuring it was probably my dad calling to criticize me for the day, as usual. It was a number I don’t recognize, the telemarketers are becoming rabid, I told one yesterday I didn’t have a warranty on my ’01 car so I didn’t need his services and hung up on him and he called back 5 times after that. I didn’t answer. It’s pretty fucking close to legalized stalking. And assault because NO MEANS NO, fuck off.

I don’t like Seroquel, at all.I’ve only taken it a few times in the last month and one night my kid described coming to me with a tummy ache and she said I started talking about pillow fights and wouldn’t get out of bed and she said is scared her. What scares me is I have NO memory of it, period. And that was always a huge part of my high dose Seroquel, it would obliterate my lucidity, keep me down 14 hours, and occasionally, I’d even drive over my to my mom’s, in my pajamas, and visit with them-only to have no memory of having done so the next day.

My friend wrote how she still loves her Seroquel.

I am happy that it works for her in a way that is more positive than terrifying but this drug simply isn’t for me. Not even when my kid is gone. Any other time I’d have gotten up and fed the cats before they wrecked the place instead of being leaden and deadened. I could have dehydrated cos I was too blitzed to even get up for water (I popped a mint mid sleep cos they were on the night stand and my mouth was sooo dry, but I had to chomp it down fast lest I nod off and choke to death on it.)

I’m kind of tired of being made to feel like me and meds are a ‘princess and the pea’ situation. I simply want meds that allow me to be functional even at hours normally aren’t functional hours. I’m a single mom with pets and I can’t deal with a med that leaves me with no memory of shit like my kid waking me to be comforted only to find a pillow fight babbling coma patient with memory blackout. Unacceptable. Instead, it is viewed as me not wanting to get well very badly or non compliant. I think admitting this med causes weird shit to happen to me that could endanger not just my kid, but myself as well, so it’s just a bad fit and it’s very mature and responsible for me to recognize the dangers it presents.

Now I’m going to try to shake off the headache that they leave me with while my sinus pressure makes my head feel like it may implode. Joy, joy, joy.


Seroquel, Vegetative Days, And Guilt Trips

Posted in depression with tags , , , , on November 1, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

I did not take a Seroquel for two nights and was functional during the day, or as limited functioning as I am. Last night, after the hassle and joy and disappointment of Halloween (3 trick or treaters on Halloween night, am I on some psychiatric ‘don’t let her near your kids’ site?) My sister lost a second cat to cancer in less than 3 months after spending hundreds on treatment for them. She now hates Halloween and I can’t say I blame her. Anyway, I took Seroquel last night and I went down for the count. Sheet came off the bed during the night so I guess I tossed and turned a lot, but I don’t remember much but bad dreams. Like Spook bringing home head lice, or her little friend living with us full time with all the chatter and fighting, or the familiar old one where I am still a 13 year old stuck riding in the big rig with my overly critical father…The prosazin or whatever is not doing much for the bad dreams and she upped the dose.

Anyway, normally I’d already be in town, paying bills and fetching necessities. After the sixth time of hitting snooze and still having to pry myself out of bed and shamble about to get my kid off to school, I realized…it ain’t happening. I’ve had to interact with petri dish dwellers more than I like and it’s taken a toll. On top of the Seroquel ‘hangover’. And yes, I tried to halve the 50 mg pills to 25 mg but they are small chubby round pills and when I use a crusher, it disintegrates the pill entirely. So much easier when you have bifurcated pills that split in half easily but nothing in my life ever goes easily.

Today I am just vegetating. And running bets on if I’ll get a bath today or make it til tomorrow for another 7 day stretch. I wouldn’t put money on myself. I’ve mastered the wet wipe/Irish Spring art of being presentable and not reeking of so if I can’t shake off this grog from Seroquel…I’ll consider it a win just to get the ice cube trays refilled by bedtime. Never ceases to amaze me how easily the doctors are satisfied that you’re ‘functional’ because you showed up for your appointment wearing pants and making polite chitchat. I don’t know hospitalization would be of any use and I rail against it even with insurance cos it seems a silly way to run up bills but I am getting threadbare, mentally. It could come to that though I will fight it tooth and nail. I spent time in a psych ward when one of my meds caused a near fatal interaction and spent 6 days in a catatonic state with no memory of that time. Once I was ‘back’ in my ‘right’ mind, I couldn’t wait to get out of there and back to living my quiet little life. Having an audience didn’t really help me with my depression and group therapy is just ugh,not my thing. It’s funny the silly things I do remember once I came out of the catatonia. Like being pissy that they would not let me have Mountain Dew, only caffeine free Sierra Mist. I nearly died, I suffered brain damage, and my end game was caffeine and citrus flavor. How do others not find such quirks adorkable? Oh, right, midwest. “Different’ is bad, must.assimilate. Not.

So not hospital but I am not doing what I would call well. A self imposed vegetative day is in order.Not like I’m short on self guilt tripping, anyway.

I made an effort to reach out to the donor so he will at least sign off on the paperwork to get things settled and in finding his email addy I dug out one of our old emails. And not sixty seconds in, I was feeling pissed off because he really believes it was ALL me and that our child is loved less than he hates me. And so the guilt tripping began, where I went back over all the shitty things I said and did, and now it all seems so clear but at the time it wasn’t. And he likes saying I blame all my shitty behavior on my mental disorders and I view it more as ‘extenuating circumstances’ that contributed to whatever fucked up thing I said or did at that time. But here I am, all these years later, and he can still make me doubt myself and feel like a monster from a years old email. Problem is, while I certainly do fall prey to outside influences and I try fix the problems in my actions.. I’m not malleaable so it’s like a hangnail.Annoying, nagging, but not fatal. Unless you have a very very fragile psyche in which case going up against a strong willed moody woman like me probably does feel fatal to a male ego.

I noted some things about my own poor behavior, oddly, while watching My Name Is Earl. I always thought Joy was awful, so rude and mouthy and insulting and downright abusive. And oblivious to the fact that carried herself that way and it even resulted in her kids being excluded from playdates cos none of the parents wanted to deal with her. I’ve never gone out of my way to be offensive so I can only assume they take issue with me wearing all black and having Halloween decor year round. And yeah, the midwest small town really can be that shallow.Like I said, different is bad here but I never stopped being who I am to make it easier on myself. On the other hand, there were things Joy and I had in common, like thinking our sarcastic humor is funny when in fact it is hurtful sometimes. She called everyone ‘dummy’, I have a tendency to tack ‘dumbass’ or ‘jackass’ to the end of sentences. Meant as humor but I see why it can come off as plain mean. Which is weird cos for me, the only true insult I wield happily is when I called animal abusers or pedophiles ‘cockweasels’. Everything else is just…,my effed up brand of humor.

It’s a flaw, I am working on it.

Now I am going to go back to my ‘happy place’ cos it has been a depressing hateful and violent week in the news and midterm elections are gonna keep it that way so…My happy place is binge watching Dexter. Yeah,yeah, serial killers, awful beings, but…he only kills scum of the Earth who beat the system so it’s more like trash clean up than ya know,a felony. And best of all it’s an old show before the country went to hell in a handbasket so no politics, no ego wars, no fake news or libtard or immigration hatred…

Yes. Much happier head space, watching a serial killer trying to have a conscience.

I’ll leave the real bloodbaths to politicians.

This Just In…

Posted in mental health blog with tags , , , , , , , on October 30, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

After 3 dismal days of barely functioning…I had a good mental health day today. I tackled the chore of dishes, mowed a patch of lawn, and straightened up the Halloween decor for trick or treaters.(As if the local yokels will allow their precious redneck snowflakes to come here, it’s been 7 months and they only let their kids play with mine if she is at my dad’s house…never mind how many times I’ve tried to get the moms to contact me about playdates.)

All in all, though. I wasn’t up or down or in the middle. I was just living my life. Kicking myself for not accomplishing more yet trying to pat myself on the back for what I did get done. My kid changed her mind a 4th time on her Halloween costume, though it’s going to be raining both days and nights so I don’t suppose it matters.

I am crossing my fingers that my check deposits early so I can get her shoes to wear to the daddy/daughter dance where I will be serving as dad Friday night. Otherwise, she has nothing but tennis shoes and hideous cowgirl boots to wear the beautiful (used) black satin and velvet dress I got for her to wear. What I’ve learned the last couple of months is that ‘receieve your direct deposit up to two days early’ really isn’t written in stone. More like asking a Magic 8 ball. So since I need it desperately to try and find her some decent used shoes at a thrift store…chances are I won’t get it til after the dance. Which will mean fashion hell for her so she’ll hate me for going in boots and getting laughed at or she will be mad at that we didn’t go…

I can’t win, tired of trying. I’m just gonna do my best and hope it’s enough to not traumatize her too much.

I am gonna try to skip Seroquel (scary-quel) tonight, see if maybe I have less trouble getting up in the morning. We’ll see how long the melatonin lasts, if it even kicks in. Money has me so stressed, and Halloween which is supposed to be my happy time yet just becomes even more stress…Grrr. But for three days I felt so lethargic and leaden the morning after Seroquel, I just can’t see myself living in that kind of stupor. And it’s so easy to get attached to sleepers as a crutch, a way to hasten sleep to escape a reality that isn’t pleasant…I did that for a couple of years before my kid was born and I swore I’d never go back to it.

Maybe I will just ‘date’ Seroquel on weekends when I don’t need to be up at the crack of ass and functional immediately.

None of my problems were solved. I didn’t accomplish as much as I’d wanted. But…it was a good mental health day and those come rarely so raise the metaphoric glass. You celebrate the tiny things when they are in fact huge things for you. Only tiny to people with normally ordered brains.Disordered minds…good mental health days are to be celebrated and embraced.

The Murder Bunny

Posted in depression with tags , , , , on October 27, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

If wondering wtf is with the post title…stick around and find out.

I did not get solid sleep last night even with Seroquel. It took 2 hours to kick in and I was awake every 2 or hours but then when my kid got up at 7:15…I couldn’t get out of bed. I was awake but my body may as well have been leaden. I guess if it’d been a school day I might have risked the pinball side to side bruising the Seroquel shuffle causes but…it wasn’t a school day so I did the same as yesterday and just lay in bed awake,waiting for the fog to clear enough so I might get to the bathroom without injuring myself.

I don’t like this shit. I mean, what sleep I did get feels different than prior to Seroquel, like even segmented it’s a deeper, more restful sleep…Down side, however, is that I hit 2 p.m and now I just feel sleepy, sluggish, heavy, leaden, and I can’t nod off but I can’t seem to ‘wake up’ enough to do anything. My kid is with my dad’s faction for the rural football and bonfire festivities til 9 p.m. so I could totally get in some sleep but it ain’t coming naturally. The sun is a trigger for anxiety and prevents sleep even with darker curtains and my mind is shuffling about with all the feelings of shame and feelings of self worthlessness. I want to get stuff done. I want to feel better. I want to create, to accomplish, to break out and branch out.

Times like this are when I so miss the old school internet chatrooms. They were a great support for me for so many years but now it’s all shallow social media and texting and…It’s too much damned work. I liked chat rooms for a reason. If it’s labeled ‘depression’, good chance I won’t be wasting my time with some wanna-be sexter. There’s no escape from the wading pool that is human vapidity. I’m not saying I’m all deep or special but I know once the chat rooms faded away…

I lost a large part of myself. And I even tried to restart a chat room and like everything else in my life, it was of little interest to others and even I ended up down the rabbit hole, abandoning what I had created. This isn’t as simple as missing old school ways. There was a mentality to certain chat rooms, supportive, humorous in spite of misery overload, there was a sense of community and feeling like you could wander on line at any hour and find at least one person lurking who’d hear you out on whatever had you reeling. Now it’s all tablets and cell phones and apps and 160 characters and…it makes me more depressed, not less. I have tried to let go of the past and ‘get with the times’ but…

Turns out, I am just one of those stubborn people who get pissed off when things that worked perfectly fine are ‘fixed’ ‘updated’ ‘improved’ ‘phased out’, etc. Chat fromat was wonderful for a lot of us and it just sucks that it ‘went out of style’. That’s like saying getting your driver’s license and a car as a teenager is not longer in style. WTF? Some things are timeless, even when progress carries us forward.

So yeah, I am sad sacking about days of old, I am beating up on myself because I can’t even sleep right, even with the aid of pills, and now that I’ve had a break from my kid, I miss the hell out of her babbling cos at least it drowned out my own brain’s dysfunction.

Now…One of the coolest decorations of the Halloween season I’ve found…I present…

The Murder Bunny.

Looks to me like he might just wanna get some vengeance for his brethren and boil Glenn Close.

Just say no

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , on June 30, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

To Seroquel. I even had an energy shot in hopes of being revived, but I am still the walking dead. Yet now that I have my kid down for a nap, my brain keeps telling me I am sleepy but I can’t sleep.

I am all crampy and my dad has decided today is a good day to bring me a new kitchen table, which will require rearranging stuff when all I want to do is stare off into space and embrace my misery.

And I am miserable. My mood is so low right now, I could easily just curl up and die.

I know new meds screw with you and take time to kick in, but the last time I felt this absolutely shitty was back in the 90’s when they put me on Serzone and I had this mega bad reaction.

I cannot believe on 25 mg dose of Seroquel has managed to drag me down so far. I’d been doing okay. I know the hormonal thing doesn’t help but this is ridiculous.

I’ve forced myself to get up and do some housework but it’s like my entire body is coated with Novacaine. I could walk into a wall and not feel it. I sent the neighbor kids home this morning, I had just had all I could take. The walls are closing in on me, I can’t keep up with the housework and the cats and the finances and my kid is becoming an unholy terror that I am almost scared of at times…

My brain is coming undone.

I know it will pass, happens every month, but I never really get used to it.

Twenty minutes after I sent Damiana home with the admonition “We’re not having any more c0mpany today”, she came knocking on the door and asked if she could come in.


Then my kid grabs a kitten by the throat and I correct her and she starts blubbering, “You scared me, you scared me, are you sorry you scared me?” Never mind the cat she just choked. Never mind how many times she has been corrected and KNOWS she is doing wrong. The manipulation never ends. And even R has started to see it. The child is a budding sociopath. Which all kids are,but because of my issues, I am starting to feel like I’ve already damaged her horribly or maybe it’s just junk dna between her father and I. It’s like I can’t even tell her no because even if I whisper it, I get the same fit, like I smacked her or something. That is pure manipulation and I don’t like it because it not only scares me, it makes me not like my kid very much. I love her, but when she acts like that, it’s hard to like her. I keep telling myself she is a normal kid, I am doing fine as a mom…

But at least at this time, I don’t believe it. I feel like I did something, maybe just the act of existing, to screw her up in the head. And while kids have imaginations, she has started telling wild stories about how her daddy works at a bank (gas station) and has black hair (long blond hair) and wears glasses (no glasses) and takes her all these places and buys her things and oh, the most asinine of all, he loves cats. None of which is true and I am trying to roll with the punches and not freak out, let the kid have her fantasy world, it’s my fault for choosing an unworthy sperm donor…

I just bite my tongue but I want to cry, because I am the one busting my ass and mind every day trying to juggle everything while he has no responsibility but here she is giving him all this credit. Yes, it’s her imagination, and yes, I know I am being ludicrous. Doesn’t make the emotional distortion go away.

On the bright side, I did one good deed for the day. One of the stray cats has kittens under my trailer and Damiana’s brother brought me one that was ice cold and nearly dead…I warmed it up, spoon fed it milk, kept it inside, and it revived and went back outside with its litter mates. I don’t know if it will make it but it was walking on its own volition so I will take that as a good sign. If it does live, I am going to call it Lazurus. Because it truly was knocking on death’s door.

Now…I am going to get back to dreading my existence and the upcoming visit from my dad (Nothing personal, just off my nut at the moment). I am NOT taking any more Seroquel. Like, ever again.

I’d rather gargle razor blades with a bleach chaser.

The vortex of suck that is the aftermath of Seroquel

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on June 30, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

My kid had Damiana stay over last night, and it coincided with the start of shark week. I thought, what can it hurt to start the 25 mg Seroquel at bedtime?

Ha ha ha ha ha ha.

One 25 mg pill has given me ten hours of lethargy, narcolepsy, gauze brain, Novacaine fingers, grouchiness…

I had a shrink who used to give me 25’s for panic attacks and I remember it doing nothing for me at such a low dose, not even sleepiness. Not to mention it does fuck all for panic anyway.

Now one little low dose pill and I am basically the walking dead. I am grinding my teeth to stay awake as I write this, having to stop every other word because my fat numb fingers aren’t hitting the right keys.

I have cramps. Damiana is on my last nerve. One of the “magnets”, as I call him, came around last night sniffing about. (As in, I am a LOSER magnet, ya know, 40 year old guy, no job, stoned 24-7…Not a bad person just not my cup of tea.) I dropped hints as subtle as anvils to make him go away. Of course when you live in such a perpetually stoned state, I guess everything seems like a joke. Because “I am PMS-ing and in a really bad mood” is of course very vague.

Loser. Magnet. That is me.

I had hopes for Serqouel and this shark week disorder. But I absolutely cannot do this walking dead thing. My kid woke up three times during the night and it was all I could do to pry myself up and amble about like a zombie in search of brains. I felt so disconnected and the overwhelming need to sleep was staggering. How can anyone function like that? I guess everyone responds differently. But this tells me Seroquel ain’t gonna work for me, I cannot spend a week a month zonked on this shit.And it’s hard to build a tolerance to side effects if I am only going to take them 7 days a month. It will virtually mean repeating this somnolence bit every single month.




I tried being positive, keeping an open mind.

Which is why I feel like I am covered in bubble wrap and gauze stumbling into doorways and unable t0 type properly because my fingers don’t feel connected to my brain.

Fuck positive.

I’m gonna embrace my negativity and hump its leg.

As soon as I manage to stop drooling and thinking about warm mooshy brains while shambling about.

Seroquel= instant zombie