Daily Archives: April 24, 2014

No Feelings


True Blood Season 7 Teaser

I got the above video in my email while sitting here in my usual spot on the couch of gloom and doom. My jasmine tea and water are sitting here, and I'm kicking myself for forgetting to buy saltines at the store yesterday eve. Oh, yes, I remembered the sweet fucking cinnamon graham crackers, but forgot the saltines. I remembered the peanut butter and the canned peaches, but forgot the fucking saltines.

Fuck, I am so nauseous that I had to take my sports bra off because it was putting some pressure on me near my stomach. Then I turned my workout pants into some low riding hipsters. I look like one of those deflated teenagers on the couch in those PSAs about talking to your kids about pot. Funny, now you got to talk to your kids and tell them why you're smoking pot. 


Smoking Pot Is Really Stupid / Anti-Marijuana PSA Video


For the life of me, I can't decide which med it is that is making me feel sick and ruining my scheduled treadmill/"Supernatural" morning time. Fuck, I made it out to starschmucks without meds this morning, and the sun had almost come up already. I didn't have a freakout, but I did have my sunglasses, etc. I didn't feel sick there, or jones-ing for clonopin just yet... I just felt kinda spaced out, I guess like I "normally" would as I was walking down the street back home. Living in my head, almost getting hit by cars, you know, that kind of "normal" shit. 

Maybe there's something EVIL growing in my stomach. There's pain now. Maybe I accidentally swallowed an alien while in a feeding frenzy. Maybe I don't ever want to see a Dr except for meds. Last time I went for some dumb pain, they eventually took my gall bladder. What's next? Maybe they planted something in there while yanking out the gall bladder. Something alien. Something evil. Maybe an alien/human hybrid. Maybe I should go and have an ultrasound! 

Maybe I should just finish my tea, curl up in a ball, and think about the reminder of the end of "True Blood", and say fuck it. There's a "Supernatural" marathon on again on TNT tomorrow. I'm sure I'll be fine by... oh... 3 or 4 today. Maybe I can force myself to get on the treadmill then. I have the DVDs, so no excuse if I feel ok.



 At least I got out this morning without freaking out.

Oh, by the way, I'm not having any feelings or moods at all. I'm just existing. Does that make me a zombie? Be sure to aim for the head.


Sex Pistols - No Feelings

Living in Acceptance: Seek Balance

The Problem Having bipolar disorder means life is a balancing act. Trying not to go too far on the manic side and not fall too far on the depressive side. It’s fitting that I’m a Libra. The symbol for Libras is balance. The scales. Life, for me, is constant turmoil trying to stay in that […]

The post Living in Acceptance: Seek Balance appeared first on Depression and Bipolar Disorder:.

Still Practicing

I finished up DBT (dialectical behavior therapy) last August, but I still use my DBT skills all the time. There …

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Still Practicing

I finished up DBT (dialectical behavior therapy) last August, but I still use my DBT skills all the time. There …

Continue reading

Carry On Wayward Grand Daughter



I made it to my last visit with the therapist shrink today. Funny when I got home, "Carry On Wayward Son" was playing in the bathroom! I had to laugh and smile. Only the Supernatural Junkies are going to get that reference. Anyway, getting ready... That means - TMI - I took a whore's bath, put on a little eye makeup, even though I was asking myself why when I was wearing sunglasses anyway, and pulled on some semi-clean clothes. Next, it was the short engineer style boots.

I was a bit anxious, I have to admit, but I started the seroquel early, because the fucking anxiety was starting early on me, the fucker. So now I end up taking 200mg during the day, and more if I can find some extras around here somewhere. 

Oh, yeah, I took the walk of shame to the bus stop (unable to drive PTSD), and froze with some other people. I put my hood up and saw my bus across the street. It looked like he was taking a break, but I'll bet he went into the building he parked next to to take a big long dump, because it took him a longass time to get back, and pick up us loser bus riders.

I used my "cripple" card and I guess the ride there was ok. As we passed the cemetery, I wrote down the street number to pull the stop bell at to get off if you want to go there. I want to check it out one day, as a therapeutic outing of sorts. Maybe I'll take some flowers to look like I belong there.

After I got dumped off on the main road where the bus stops, I had to walk through loads of people down the small sidewalks. For some idiot unknown reason, I had the urge to go to starfucks and get a coffee, even though I have some at home. Maybe I was just challenging myself. I wasn't really thinking. It was if I was on autopilot. Zombie? Nah, my brain was definitely resting, like in a chair in my head. Not a cushy one, more like a fold-up. Temporary. I knew it would be packed, and would have a huge line. I did it anyway, and when I finished the 1st cup, I got a second one to go, which meant long line again. Nice how sunglasses fuck with your peripheral vision, I didn't see/feel as crowded as I should have felt. I did wonder what the fuck I was doing there. Was I fitting in? Did I look "normal"? Was I fitting in with society?

I wondered why I was the only person wearing sunglasses everywhere I went while I was out. Very odd. Sure, it was supposed to rain, but there were people out there in shorts and short sleeves. Nuts. I froze while waiting to get to the therapist.

Speaking of the devil, I don't think he totally believed me, or was a bit worried about losing a customer or something. He doesn't actually care about me. He's not paid to. He was weird about me telling him that I had to get my finances straight, and deal with moving, and that I couldn't afford to be coming in each week at this point. I even refused his tea! Oh my!  He says he has a pretty open schedule, changes a lot due to the type of work that other patients do, so if/when I decide to come back, he should have no problem fitting me in. Fitting me in... I wonder when I'll receive his final bill.

I don't know what made me cry. I was so fucking pissed at myself for it. I was explaining the financial situation, and that I wanted/needed to help my daughter out. I explained that my old man never helped me, only my sister. I guess I was overwhelmed by the whole getting outside in the daylight shit too.

Because of my stupid brain, I missed out on a package that was to be delivered here by FedEx. I can't read the writing on the sticker they left. It looks like "CAN DEAD INSIDE". Reminded me of The Walking Dead. Zombie wasn't home yet. Ok... can't get inside. It says they'll try again. When? Tomorrow? 

Only thing going on is an interview by phone with a woman that is doing research or is writing a book (I forget) about suicide experiences, ER stuff. I don't know if I could handle a phone call. I think I'd fuck up, sound stupid, "lose my words", etc. Fuck. I'm not sure what to do. Call her first? I hate calling strangers. Cold calling. It's very cold.

Even though I'm home, alone with the radio, my eyes are burning, and I only cried a little, I still feel emotionally exhausted. Why?. My time alone is running out. There's some instant anxiety right there, as well as the fact that we have to go to the store, otherwise I'll just be eating tortillas for a while. Shit, I don't really care. It's food. I love my tortillas! How could I not? 
I need some of this too!

Flash of a memory of trying to make tortillas with my grandma when I was little... :)

++ Imagine a little gray-haired grandma that spoke Spanglish or Spanish to the grand kids. She got up early and made tortillas every day. When I was staying with her I tried to help sometimes. I loved watching her. She had mad tortilla making skills. I wondered if I could ever be as good as her. She was a perfectionist, of course, so I was always getting corrected, but gently enough. I loved her kitchen, to watch her cook, and sneak cigarettes. Her kitchen was always full of yummy smells, and a patient, warm, loving ol' lady. She made it feel like the heart and soul of that house.++



Fuck... I can't believe I was even outside alone and went to the shrink! This is how fucked up my brain is, or how the seroquel can affect it. It's pretty much worn off.

Later...

My ass is going to bed early, getting up early, and out in the dark, even if it rains again. This time I won't wear see-through leggings!!!

Lithium no more

Miracle of miracles, the shrink heard me out and agreed I can quit taking the lithium. The Paxil is being increased and hopefully the Lamictal will stabilize the moods. She claims Paxil will help with the uber anxiety but it’s been a month and I’ve not noticed any lessening. If anything my anxiety has skyrocketed, which is always does during warm months when people are out and about. People make me nervous. Kids make me more nervous when they come in swarms.

My kid did not go to school today. I took her to the doctor. She has a dual ear infection. Again. This time, the doctor says it’s due to allergies. Now my kid has to take daily meds for that. Because I don’t have enough trouble keeping track of my own meds. Though I have vicious allergies myself so she inherited my junk dna.

Mom babysat while I went to the doctor. She informed me I need to get my shit together, make more money, and move because this is no life for my kid. It irked me because it’s not like her and dad did much better for us growing up. Hell, they moved us ten times in the same town before I was ten because they kept running out of money and needed a cheaper place. The house they finally bought was roach infested with bare plywood floors that caved in when you walked. Funny how she forgets that stuff. Given trailer park life isn’t optimal but I’m not the one who has  a problem with it. Seems to be everyone else who can’t deal with my address not being fancy enough. I figure we have what we need, we don’t do without food or power or clean clothes. Plus this place allows pets and that counts for me. So my mom needs to piss off.

Of course dad says the same thing and is turning the screws for me to move to his tiny hick town because it’s “better for kids.” Whatever. A resentful mom who hates where she lives would not be good for a kid. I know because I had one. When he moved us to that armpit of 144 people, my mom was so unhappy she became a miserable nasty bitch. Doing what is best for someone else to your own detriment just breeds resentment. Anyone who thinks that’s better for my kid is an idiot.

The counselor says my problem with my kid, aside from mom undermining me, is lack of confidence. Ha ha ha. Well you spend ten of your most formative years being insulted daily, it doth tend to give one an inferiority complex. Plus she’s my first and only kid and I am terrified of screwing her up. I don’t care if I make her mad. She doesn’t like the word no. Well, if it’s between her liking me or getting electrocuted from sticking a form in a socket…I welcome the hate. I think my big thing is…my mental issues taint everything including discipline. I worry that inconsistency, no matter how unintentional, is going to mess her up in the head.It does lend to insecurity. If confidence were something easily attainable, none of us would be going to therapy, we’d be out at Wal-mart buying kegs of self esteem. Duh.

R wants me to come to the shop tomorrow. I already feel like I can’t breathe. So oppressive. But my car is running like shit and he’s the mechanic so I will suck it up. Funny how it ran fine for four months until I started going around him again. Maybe he’s a car hex.

Or I bought a lemon is more likely. Which he recommended.

That’s what going out into the petri dish gets me. Crashed into and forced to buy a piece of crap I was told was in perfect working order by a so called friend.

I prefer my kittens, Juju and Voodoo. They can’t lie.