Archive for sleep disturbance


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.



Posted in depression with tags , , , , , on November 15, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Ok, so it was more like 3 inches of snow, but it was enough that I got a 5 a.m. call saying school was canceled. I was a bit relieved because I’d been anxious for hours, looking out to see if it had started to snow yet. I was still wide awake 4 hours after I took the dreaded Seroquel and I could take it no more so I addded 75 mg Benadryl and eventually, nodded off. Only to wake at 2 a.m. and feel head achey and hungover yet I could not get back to sleep. I halved one of the few melatonin left and tossed and turned some more. I had just nodded off again when I got the call canceling school. Once that was resolved, I took another 25mg Seroquel (bottle says 1-2 tablets as needed so no overdosage), thinking I could sleep til 9 or 10 at least. Only to be wakened again at 7 a.m. by my dad wanting to know if there was school, which is kind of stupid since they don’t have small kids and it has no impact on them, but I then again, it’s long been a way midwesterners check road conditions. If school gets cancelled, it isn’t good. Pfft, I went back to sleep again…

Spook woke me after 9 and asked if it was time for school. I told her school was off, go play in the snow, I’d be up in a few…She woke me again at 10 to let me know I needed to get up and she’d already had a chat with our neighbor about how I was still in bed and I better not sleep til noon…I told her to make herself some hot cocoa and a cinnamon roll and I’d be up shortly…And I had every intention of getting up, I had no desire to sleep til noon. And yet..That’s what happened. She finally came in to berate me that it was noon and I HAD to get up. And thus begins another day of self loathing, and why? Because I can’t sleep and the meds they give me to help fix this fuck me up this much.

So I got up with a throbbing headache and felt dazed and confused (Seroquel has always made me feel out there, like I missed a day or something, off the planet) and while she continued to berate and nag me, I realized she’d been up the entire time without even watering or feeding the cats so I had to do that while trying to swim into consciousness. She was more self sufficient as a 4 year old than she is now and is grosses me out, honestly. I already have a 23 year old brother who operates at emotional level of 10 and most of it is learned because dad and stepmonster decided he was a simpleton and they’ve kept him that way. I want my child to blossum, to become independent, to become self sufficient and help out more because honestly, at her age I was ten times more mentally mature and responsible so maybe I am too tough on her for that reason but…At the same time I don’t think it’s cool that she stressed me out less when she was only 2 and totally dependent on me for pretty much everything.

I am coming out of the haze, but my sinuses are still fucked up so the pain remains in that area and my body feels achey and bruised, which means I apparently got too much sleep even if it was in 90 minute increments. I guess I’d be better off if I could just 4 solid hours. Idk. I just know I’ve been a single mom for 7 years and no matter how many depressive cycles, I’ve never felt like such an utter failure as a mother as I do when I take Seroquel and I can’t fight its sedating properties or pry myself out of its grip. I think I’d feel less guilty if I was hungover from a booze binge, because then I’d have brought it on myself by choosing to drink. To feel this shitty by simply taking a prescribed medication-one,mind you, that millions of other people take daily without incident, this is unfuckingcool. My disorders may interfere with me being a happy fun ball mom but it’s never kept me from getting up to feed my kid. The ‘treatments’ for the disorders do though.

I just want a new bottle of melatonin, I can’t handle the Seroquel hangovers on a daily basis. As I recall it was that and the oversleeping that made me go off the crap in the first place. While I would love to stay asleep as much as possible cos even my nightmares are more positive than my reality, I cannot be on a med that even low dose makes me unable to be a parent. That to me makes perfect sense yet to the medical professionals it is considered non compliance. Because hey why should you expect to remain lucid on meds, you should absolutely need a babysitter on call for when rendered useless.

I know I am negative nelly these days and I don’t like it, either, but the one thing I swore I’d never do in this blog is put up a front. This is me in my true ugly depressive form.The ‘how can anyone have this much bad luck,for real’ chick. 2018 has been a non blessed hellride with no signs of looking up. It boggles me that six weeks ago, I was actually in a decent place. Not perfect, but not a medded out zombie, not a ‘not bathed in over a week’ lump. The depressions that come with season change are like ninjas attacking from all angles. The only up side is that my anxiety is lower so I don’t need as much Xanax. Again, one of those catch 22 treatment things. If you take the full allowed dose per day, you’re abusing it or using it as a crutch. If you don’t take max dose, then you’re hindering your own improvement…

Something’s got to give, soon. The house smells like a big litter box because I’ve scooped as much as I can but I was lead to believe I’d be getting money for babysitting except their job fell through so mine did, too. We’re all in suckageville, I guess. I don’t feel rested, at all, if anything, I feel more tired than I did when I woke at 2 a.m. So if sleep isn’t the answer, trying your best gets you nowhere, and praying to every deity available for some clarity as to how to help yourself fails…

The old me would me have probably obliterated reality with any pills inducing sleep because, well, I could and had no reason not to. Now I have a kid counting on me and even if she’s being a butt munch, I owe it to her not to fall to pieces or become an overly medicated drumpf. I’m going to keep hanging in there, and do some more praying. There’s got to be a way to survive this outside of hospitalization.

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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.

992 Followers, 5 Likes, and No Patridges In A Pear Tree

Posted in depression, Mental Health Disability, seasonal affect disorder with tags , , , , , , on October 23, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

I normally try not to focus on the cobwebs gathering on this blog because, hey, that’s my decor style anyway and I have a strong dislike for all things popular but…


I am in for the fight of my life with the onslaught of current seasonal affective disorder.It’s a battle to get through each hour, let alone each day. I’m still sleeping in spurts. My kid is still channeling Satan. We still have kittens who are dying because even formula and me being up every 2 hours with them isn’t saving them. I’m ready for bed at 6:30 p.m. when the sun goes down, I am sweating but cold and still having monthly cycles and dysphoria so not sure if that is menstrual-pause or what. Everyone keeps asking “Why don’t you just get a job to make up for the child support (not being paid)?”

IF I WERE STABLE ENOUGH TO WORK THE DOCTOR WOULD SIGN OFF ON IT AGAINST MY WILL AND I’D BE CUT OFF AND PUT TO WORK! Or as is common theme even for the able minded here, the search for work cos everything is dying off again. (THey just closed my fave pizza place, Marco’s, which I kept telling everyone was gonna happen but nooo, no one will listen to me, I am just paranoid and pessimistic except, hey twonks, during a brief stable period before my brain damage, I worked as an assistant manager and I can tell when too little business means buh-bye!!!!)

Never ceases to amaze me the disparity between how society holds a father responsible for his children and what is expected of the mothers. (Reverse, as well, lots of good single dads out there.) They get to be flakes and keep their homes and cars and have date nights with their s/o and give zero thought to if their child has what they need for a day, let alone the whole time they’re not paying a cent. The law is supposed to be there for the children, but truth be told…it’s there for deadbeat parents.

There was a time the donor heard I was calling him a deadbeat and he railed against the term but even if I shut out the child he and I have together….He failed to pay for a daughter up North and a son out west, so it ceases to be an issue with me or my child. It’s about him being a selfish ogre. Okay, not ogre, that sounds insulting to Shrek and that dude is cool. Pattern of behavior. And considering that his child support amount, by state law, maxes out at 20% of his after tax income…This is a pattern of monstrous behavior on his part, not greed on baby mama parts.

Somewhere this post went haywire but my brain is too chaotic to figure it out. The empty place across the road is being wired for Dish or something and the van in the drive is blasting radio gunk so loud I feel like I should endorse WKRP in Armpit-inciatti. I was so determined to be dignified and coherent on this post but… bucket of fail.

I guess I’m just feeling a lil whiny cos even though I have my big girl panties on and I am trying-to my own detriment-to be mom and dad to a 9 year old- it’s overwhelming. And she makes sure I never get underwhelmed with all her demands and blaming everyone but herself for her tantrums. Suppose it’s karma cos before I knew I was bipolar, I blamed my mood swings on other people upsetting me. But it’s no excuse. You gotta own how you are feeling, even when others are complicit in making you feel that way. SO I OWN MY OWN WEAKNESS OF CHARACTER AND BULLSHIT AND WHININESS.

It does not, however, diminish my devotion to my daughter. Maybe who reads this blog doesn’t like the writer, but maybe,too, they have a heart for little kids who didn’t ask for a disabled parent and a shitty one. Not saying it’s anyone else’s responsibility but I am saying..we all come to a juncture where we can be greedy or we can pay it forward in some way…which is why I’ve been babysitting the neighbor kid even though they don’t even offer me a dollar. Because I want to be good, to do good, and I want it to come back on Spook and me in a good way.

We’re the least abled to be doing things for free or giving away for free but…I feel good doing it and if it means Spook and I have a bit of luck and good will come our way…Yayness. But I really do like just being nice. It’s only when people take advantage that I get venomous.

Now I have to steel myself for a shrink appt tomorrow plus a parent teacher conference and the riddle of how to get money to buy cat litter and food til next Friday. All the while this cockweasel van person is across the street blaring their radio and hammering on shit to distract me.

This is one of those days where I feel like maybe,just maybe, shock treatment might help me.

But then I think of our fearless leader Blahpolar who subjected herself to it and she still lost her battle to bipolar depression. They claim by her own hand but I will always blame the mental disorder. Ulla was a beautiful person who should have lived another 40 years to share her positive (without being nauseating) thoughts with so many of us running this gauntlet.

992 ALLEGED FOLLOWERS for this blog and barely 3 likes a day. Is it neediness? Is it a popularity contest? Or am I just disappointed that the world has devolved into a place where a pancake vaguely resembling Mother Theresa can get 700.000 likes?

No patridge in a pear tree here. Just pegacorns.Lots and lots of pegacorns.

Under Siege by Consciousness

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , , , , , on October 8, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

2:46 a.m. I am awake for the third time since I first zonked out between the last episode of Munsters, so it was before 9 p.m. but I was up again at 10:30, then midnight, and again at 1:30. Since I did not do my entire cocktail I am not finding it easy to get back to, and stay, asleep, but my kid is off school today so I can’t really risk over sedation and being unable to wake up. But as this is annoying, I just took another 6mg melatonin, 50 mg Atrax, and 1mg Xanax. Because I spent all of Sunday, spent and watching the clock til bedtime, and I am pissed off that I can’t just stay asleep and wake up rested.

I have another Matchbox 20 song stuck in my head, which is pretty common when I am awake at this hour, nearing 3 a.m. “It’s 3 a.m., I must be lonely.”

Except I’m not lonely. I have cats galore grooming me with face licking and Freddy Krueger facial claw massages. Those are the calm ones not knocking shit over as they pillage and plunder. They are all feeling the change in season and weather and acting like psychos to a degree. I bet the vet would take a line out of my shrinks’ book and advise I spend a hundred bucks on a sun light to aid the cats with their seasonal issues. Pfft.

I endured a little NCIS: New Orleans but I couldn’t determine what were simply bad accents, bad acting, or my ignorance of New Orleans culture so I didn’t enjoy it, it just annoyed me. Then came the realization that there is nothing on free TV channels this late so I put an old Favorite in the VCR. Under Siege. It’s really the only Seagal movie I like but I credit a lot of that to Tommy Lee Jones, one my fave ever actors, he’s awesome in everything even as bad guys. Hopefully I can drift back to sleep with the movie as my soundtrack, I find comfort in bombarding myself at bedtime with stuff I’ve watched ad nauseum, so it becomes soothing as opposed to stimulating.

In trying not to end up over sedated and skipping that Atrax earlier, I am paying for it as my histamines are in an uproar and my skin itches in a thousand spots, which is maddening.

This goes back to the happy medium dream that I can never seem to acchieve and it is not lack of desire or lack of trying.

We’re alternating between warm and cold, dry, rainy, sunny, and gloomy weather now and it’s messing with my head, big time. I want gloom and get sunlight scorching my retinas. I need sunlight to boost my mood and get blackened day skies with torrential downpours and cold.

And now I have become preoccupied with my future plans but am finding my desire hampered by frustration that I cannot, alone, bring that dream to fruition. But it is what I want to do. And I’d be damn good at it. My stepmonster took me to our Armpit ‘antique/indoor sale’ the other day and bought me a few things in an effort to cheer my up since everyone buys so much for Spook but I do without even though I love yard sales cos I put my kid first. And it was a walk down memory lane, as my grandmother owned a similar consignment shop up til I was 11 or so. Some of my happiest memories were wandering that old shop and piling on old costume jewelry and bright scarves and letting my imagination run wild with fantasies of being a famous actress or whatever. (My dad called me Gypsy Rose Lee, which I later came to realize isn’t all that appropriate a nickname for a 9,10 year old.) But I commented aloud, “I wish I could own a place like this and do this for the rest of my life.” One of the owners pointed out that the building was for sale and my stepmonster said, “If I had that kind of money, I’d buy it in a heartbeat and put Niki in charge.”

My family believes in me, sort of, they just aren’t well off enough to help. Still, them recognizing that I’d be good at acquiring goods and could run a successful business…it counts for something.

Short of being a roadie for Motionless In White (with my kid and cats in tow), I think the resell gig would be my dream job. Though I;d be content with working from home via computer doing whatever pays the bills and keeps my kid in what she needs. Unfortunately, no one is knocking down doors offering opportunities to do such work.

3:04 a.m. Sorry, Rob Thomas, and Matchbox 20. I’m still not lonely. Hungry, yes, but far too lazy to bother to feed myself. I will just watch Seagal kick some terrorist ass and wait for the combo to kick in and let me sleep a little longer. Oh, and is it arrested development or just staunch fashion taste that makes me still totally want that studded leather jacket bad guy Tommy Lee Jones wore in this movie?

Fashion taste. Leather and studs are timeless. WANT. That. Jacket.

Hopefully when I do go back to sleep I won’t be plagued with more vivid dreams. Such bizarre dreams that feel so real. Like driving a big rig (I can’t even drive a stick shift car) but my eyes won’t open, as if glued shut, and I can’t see the road and…BREATHE. Man, nightmares are bad, but sometimes it’s the dreams that are realistic that get you worst. I doubt I will sink to the bottom in a Titanic-esque boat but not being able to see while driving…that could totally happen.

Think I like the drowning scenario better. Least Titanic went down with lots of interesting scenery in tact.

Yeah, I know. My brain ain’t right. But you gotta love its quirkiness. It’s like one of those water rides underground where you don’t know what’s coming up in the darkness. Could be killer clowns, could be an adorable animatronic tiger cub…

Welcome to my nightmare. (Yep, had to throw in Alice Cooper lest I get saddled with a light rock label just cos I like some Matchbox 20.)

That’d be awful, like being labeled Republican or Democrat or, egad, a Juggalo.

Sludgebrain Jammypants

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , , on October 7, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

I have appointed this gray and drizzly day ‘pajama pant day.” I ran myself ragged all week over the money situation, the yard sale, getting bills paid and getting household supplies…I did whatever little chores tossed my way for extra cash, including housework for my stepmom and mileage reports for my dad. I allowed my brain to be assaulted by excess noise, I faced my fear of strange people meandering near my safe space (having yard sales use to be ok, but now, it’s like terrifying). The failing fundraiser, especially now that I actually have a plan for what I would like to do for the future toward making a living…And of course, guilt because a friend in a not much better spot was kind enough to donate $5 and we are so grateful but I ended up feeling bad for taking from her…

Last night I loaded up on 6mg melatonin, 1mg Xanax, 50mg Atrax…and I slept HARD. Not to say it was without the annoying sleep/wake cycle as it was, but…come alarm time to get my kid off to church…Snooze and I carried on our affair and I simply could not leave Fort Blankie until 10 minutes before she was picked up. So I am staying in my jammy pants with my sludgebrain today. I ran, ran, ran. Today I vegetate. Which has meant e hours of NCIS:Los Angeles, a show I didn’t give the time of day until we moved and had no net and just digital antennas thus making our viewing choices limited in Armpit…I’m cool with being introduced to new shows I never otherwise would have watched (like Bluebloods). I overdosed on reality, not I get to retreat into some good fiction TV for awhile. My reward for trying so damn hard even though it nearly broke me mentally.

While trying to avoid politics in this blog…I must admit I was pretty wrapped up in the Kavanugh hearings. And I am DISGUSTED that he now gets a lifetime appointment to the highest court in the land to mess with our legal rights. He was outed, even if people didn’t believe the ‘alleged’ sexual assaults were legit, but a long history of excess drinking and never ending ‘frat boy mentality’ added onto his hostile, belligerent testimony…I can’t help but feel let down by the very people who are supposed to support the rights of Americans.

The past is the past…but it haunts. I can’t get work in certain fields due to a mistake I made almost 20 years ago, far less controversial than sexual assault and uncontrollable blackout drunks…Yet this man gets to sit on the Supreme Court, all because one side of the fence has an agenda.

I suggest a new political party: The Human Race party. Where we vote our conscience, no matter what side of the fence they fall on. If I am still suspect 20 years later in the job market for a midsdemeanor, then the stench of scandal should have taken Judge Kavanaugh out of the running. He should have stepped aside out of decency. i would have. But that;s part of that whole human race political movement. Where you have a conscience, do what is right, and don’t behave like a petulant boy-man while claiming innocence and indignation.

No doubt these statements will bite me on the ass at some point but in Fort Blankie in jammy pants…we’re giving zero fucks about rocking the political boat and offended others. My conscience says appointing the man to the supreme court is akin to letting a pedophile work in a daycare. Makes me proud not to identify with R or D parties where the agenda topples decency.

Moving on…

I doubled up on the anti nightmare pills but still had such vivid dreams they were haunting. And in them, the theme remained the same. I was given way more than any person should handle while the ‘supposed good citizens’ skated away without taking responsibility and no amount of self help and selfless deeds I did mattered. Everyone held past mistakes against me and told me how horrible I was as a person. Because, honestly, that’s how reality is for some of us. SOME OF US.

Kinda like that whole ‘work hard and you can do anything you want and be successful.” My dad’s 71 and spent 43 years working 6, 7 day weeks, 14 hours a day, and often more, and he still brings home less money than the idget at Home Depot who manages a department simply because he’s a good ass kissing fake. Yes, we should all try hard, do our best, and hope for success but to set people up as if this is a given as long as you put in the effort and work hard…It’s bullshit.

Hopefully jammypants day will help recharge my overtaxed mind and body. Maybe help me gain some insight on everything that’s trampling my psyche, my personal stuff, as well as world events. Right now I have no clarity, just exhaustion and indignation and anger. Personally, I am not one to drink the poison and wait for the other guy to die. So by zoning out perhaps I can avoid this trap. Drinking poison will be my choice, not born of spite towards others.

That’d make me part of that whole R v D political mud wrestling ring and I’ve decided I’d rather be part of the decent human race, unpopular as it is. We all know the popular vote counts for shit, anyway. 🙂

Where the F%#* is My Happy Medium?

Posted in bipolar depression, mental health blog with tags , , , , , , , on October 1, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

Yeah, yeah, I’m like The Princess and The Pea and Goldilocks rolled into one mentally fucked up package. Nothing is ever ‘just right’. But is it so awful to want a happy mental medium space?

Much as I enjoy the sleep-and needed it, even though last night was another stop, toss, turn, wake, repeat in spite of the cocktail (pills)…I do not like the morning after grog. I hit snooze six times. I snapped at my kid and didn’t pack her lunch cos she pissed me off and I was just sooo groggy…My check didn’t deposit. I’m groggy, did I mention that? And I don’t like trying to function from within the grog. This was supposed to be my happy day to start decorating outside for Halloween. Instead I am binge watching the first season of Last Man Standing and trying not to lay down cos I am just soo weighted down with The Grog.

On top of the grog is the whirlwhind of crap coming at me this week. I opened my stupid mouth that I might have a yard sale for “city wide” this weekend (420 people is a city, really???) and my dad hijacked it, so I have to get everything ready then haul it to their house and motherfucker, I don’t even have anything that will amount to more than some quarters so it will be more hassle and work than it’s worth. Except for the fact he’s got some stuff to sell and he offered to let me and my brother split whatever sales and I got a kid to feed so…But I can’t do shit until my check comes so I can buy a dollar roll of masking tape to price stuff so I am stuck on hold. I’m always up in arms when my check is late cos I like when it comes on the last day of the month and I can actually say I paid bills ahead of time. Every other month it deposits the 30th31rst,or 1rst. Here it is the first and I got nothing. Which means more effort trying to convince my self it will come in, the sky is not falling…

I guess since I flew a little high mood and energy wise over the weekend this is my ‘splat’. Focused on the bad, unable to pick out the good things, drained, feeling hungover from the sleep cocktail when in fact it was likely the anxiety causing the sleep and wake interruptions that has me so tired…

A happy medium is just what I want. No extremes (which between bipolar disorder and a moody 9 year old, ha ha, who am I kidding). But…this is my reality.And the high could be all the medication changes and withdrawals cos I couldn’t get refills and it could be a precursor to seasonal affective depression kicking my ass…I have no balance, no equilibrium, no clarity. It’s maddening. But I am gonna try to stay positive.If I can keep my eyes open and stop being pissed off that sleepy as I am, I can’t seem to nod off again. My brain sucks.

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