Daily Archives: July 3, 2015

Doctors Know Fuck All

Now that my Cymbalta is one dose in the morning…I am right back to the evening crash. I slept last night and yet now I am as tired as hell. My mood, not so bad earlier, is becoming depressive. And the anxiety has been off the charts following the trip into the dish and my chatterbox returning. I picked her up at 12:30 and she hadn’t even had breakfast or lunch. Mom was shoveling Little Debbie cakes down her gullet which means she has been wound for fucking sound. Between the doctor’s brilliant “one dose” decision and my noisy wound up kid…FAIL. (Even bigger fail is this doctor says there’s no need for split doses on anti depressants because the level will be the same no matter when you take them, so take the one dose at the one time. I am screwed.)

On the plus side…I drove by a yard sale today. And actually stopped. Which was awesome. I got Spook four really pretty shirts for fall and winter. Found myself a denim jacket, which I’ve been looking for forever so I can slap patches and pins on it like I used to do in high school. I’ve even been looking for a big body powder puff and I found one today. Whole unopened container of perfumed powder with it. Oh, and because my lovely spawn got mad and banged on her wall so hard the other day she broke my wall clock (shattered it)…I got a “new” one for $2.00 It’s a bright red apple, really not me, but I was going nuts without a wall clock. So…That was a good choice to stop. I got three bags for less than six bucks. That’s a high drugs or booze can’t even touch, I’m a frigging bargain junkie.

I never did do the shower thing. I am determined to toss me and the spawn into the shower before bedtime tonight. If I weren’t so sweaty, I probably wouldn’t even bother. It’s pathetic and gross but I forced myself this morning to bring a razor and cup of water and shave my legs in the living room. Otherwise…I’d probably have skipped that a few more days.

Got a headache within a half hour of my kid coming home. She just won’t stop talking. Ever. Mom let her stay up til 2 in the morning (yeah, cos my mom has no concept that the adult is in charge, not the kid) and I’d hoped she’d be tired today and nap or be listless…Ha ha ha. Hope is for losers. She’s hammered at my brain for six solid hours with mindless chatter. And most of it is mindless because I answer her question, she asks it ten seconds later again, I tell her again, then she asks another time and…Like a million bbq skewers in my brain. And she has zero concept of indoor voice so when she talks…It’s like she’s inside my brain with a jackhammer.

Oddly when I was at the store yesterday the cashier commented, “You’re childless! You’re never without her in tow!” And it’s true. She’s basically my siamese twin. Or conjoined twin, as the politically correct police will insist upon. Seven weeks to go before school starts. Yay. Though I signed her up for the bus this year, at her insistence, and that concerns me. Yeah, saving gas money is great and the bus only means leaving twenty minutes earlier (which for me, the not morning person, IS huge) but…taking her to school was kind of my way of making sure I got out of the house, even on days when I didn’t have anything to do in the dish. I’m worried without the routine of taking her and picking her up, I could become a total hermit. Especially with the seasonal affect disorder. Oh, well. STOP. Stop Thinking Of Problem. Start Thinking Of Possibilities.

Ugh, optimism, I think I just threw up a little.

Shower and bedtime. I am simply not feeling any more ambitious than that right now. Two days in the dish…I’ve earned a zone out. And I am hoping tomorrow will be a complete zone out. Screw hellidays. Cookouts just ensure I get bitten by every bug known to man so I actually pray to the sacred squid that no one invites us to one.

It’s funny how so many people are “trying” to get social lives and “live amongst society” because they’ve been brainwashed into thinking it’s a universal necessity or you’re somehow abnormal. I seek out company when it suits me. Mostly…I like being home in my bubble enjoying my solo interests. If that makes me anti social…I ain’t fixing it, ‘cos it ain’t broken.

Some are social butterflies.

I am more like a social turtle. Occasionally I pop my head out but mostly…I like it inside my shell. We have blacklights and felt posters and a disco ball in here!



it is what it is

I’m all over the freaking place at the moment. This is me trying to work stuff out again. People say things out of true kindness, because they want to help. They want us to feel better, they really do.


The answer to, “you can still lead a full and productive life,” is that I wasn’t doing that anyway and the prognosis ain’t good.
The answer to, “but everyone has mood swings,” is that the measure of a psychiatric diagnosis is suffering. The answer to, “but everyone ages and develops memory issues,” is that bipolar causes brain damage and speeds up dementia.
The answer to, “it’s probably the meds that are messing you up anyway,” is that you’d have to know exactly what life was like before them to make that judgment.
The answer to, “basically we’re all alone,” is that your body would be found a whole lot faster than mine.
The answer to, “it gets better,” is a hollow laugh.

By that logic, we could tell someone with gangrene that everyone rots eventually.

This isn’t pessimism, it’s realistic. Bipolar is a chronic and progressive disease. It’s understandable that people think it’s just some kind of wobbly mind thing or something, it’s understandable that people question the neurobiological cause theory – they’re natural assumptions. Knowledge is power and me, I feel better knowing what I’m dealing with; I can’t deal with it otherwise. Here’s some solid stuff to read if you want or need to educate yourself. Here’s a thing I wrote about how to help.

Side effects of medication.  
Physical effects of bipolar disorder.
Cognitive deficits in bipolar disorder.


It’s hard for anyone (even us sometimes) to believe that time and meds and positive thinking won’t fix it. It’s hard for people who haven’t lived it, to know the depths and the claws of serious depression and the harm in manic episodes. It’s hard for all of us to hear that stable episodes probably won’t last. Sometimes people know somebody with mild bipolar, or unipolar and they don’t understand the serious stuff. Here are some misconceptions (and some good news) about bipolar disorder.

The thing is, bipolar is a cluster of symptoms and no two cases are the same. It is possible to get stable, it’s possible to have a damn good life. There’s no guarantee, but it’s possible. There’s no recovery, there’s no cure. It’s known as the cancer of psychiatric disorders and remission is possible. Support from loved ones is a major plus in the journey towards remission; educated support is even better. We really do need support; it can be hell and the suicide stats are off the chart.

Fuck, it’s all segued into a damn lecture. I live alone, I have a lot of love, but fuckall practical support. I’m grieving it. Pfffft. Reboot.

I’m having sudden and serious issues with words – finding them, using them and reading them. It’s a big deal for me. My memory has become ridiculous; I’m not just forgetting the usual things, I’m even forgetting people. I’m waiting to schedule a ct scan to check it out. It’ll be okay either way, I’m not frightened, only lonely.

It is what it is.


DId get to the funeral on time yesterday but wasn’t able to spend the time with my family I wished I could.  Bob’s allergies were bothering him so we left almost immediately after the service.  I was able to say hello and goodbye to some people I hadn’t seen in a while but wasn’t able to get in the time to talk I really wanted.  I wish we could have left earlier but that’s just the way things turned out.

So tired.  I don’t know if it was the trip yesterday or what but I seem to be particularly tired today.  I could just go back to bed.  I don’t have time to because my middle child came home from church camp last night and I need to get her laundry done so we’re all ready to go to dance competition this weekend. Bob’s coming home early from work because of the American Fourth of July holiday so I can’t be in bed when he gets here.  Luckily my oldest is on tap to cook tonight so I don’t have that to worry about.

I got in all my books for my class this fall.  I’ll take them on the trip and read them traveling and waiting for the girls to get out of classes.  A bunch of small poetry collections are in this batch–it certainly doesn’t LOOK like $130 worth of books.  But hopefully they will be enjoyable and If not,  I can donate them to the library and let someone else see if they enjoy them.

Hope everyone enjoys their Independency Day holiday weekend!

How to get side-tracked on a sunny day!

It’s a beautiful warm sunny day here and I am out my back garden, dividing my time between staring at all the plants I have and staring at the screen of my laptop. I feel a sense of pride in … Continue reading

How to get side-tracked on a sunny day!

It’s a beautiful warm sunny day here and I am out my back garden, dividing my time between staring at all the plants I have and staring at the screen of my laptop. I feel a sense of pride in … Continue reading

Bad Morgue

I SLEPT SEVEN SOLID HOURS! My secret, aside from my kid staying at Grandma’s…Orange cream pop flavored Svedka vodka. Yep. Bad bad Morgue. But you get tired enough, you’ll allow yourself any little advantage. And it worked. I slept. I woke this morning to Absinthe curled up on my pillow, purring and I lolled in bed with the cats climbing me (their version of FEED ME SEYMOURE) and didn’t have to feel guilty about being a lazy mom.

Last night…After the Latuda and Trileptal and dead inside weeks…I watched the episode of Grey’s Anatomy where Derek died…And I bawled and sobbed like a baby. It was FANTASTIC. Now, some may be rolling their eyes or snickering, but after so much apathy and numbness…It was good to FEEL again. It doesn’t matter if it was over a fictional show. I was relating to human emotions like loss, grief, sadness, and springing back from it all. All I can think is, oh please please please, sacred pegacorn, let this current cocktail keep working because I am half ass stable yet I can still feel emotion…(Not a general thing with mood stabilizers.)

Now to the bitching part of the post. Stupid doctor’s office changed my meds. Instead of getting Cymbalta in 30 mg capsules so I could do the split dose thing, which has been warding off the evening crashes, they gave me 60 mg so I can only take it once a day. Demmit. Don’t fix what ain’t broken, that split dose thing was working even if was placebo effect. In addition to that, once again, they had filled meds I wasn’t even on again because the nurse didn’t cancel them when she called it in. I called the office to tell her so they could get their ducks in a row and she had to dig out my chart because the doctor failed to tell her he had taken me off Trileptal and lowered my Lamictal. WTF? The professionals are just as FUBAR as the patients.

I haven’t showered in three days. Gross, huh? I just can’t work up the motivation to give a damn. Plus the weather’s been so mild instead of scorching, I can get by with deodorant and skin so soft after a baby wipe wash down. Hell, yesterday I forgot to brush my teeth and went out with moss on my fangs and chunks of human soul still stuck in there. (Slight dramatization). I still haven’t dyed my hair. I keep buying make up (thank you, dollar stores) yet rarely wear any. I’m glad to be functioning and feeling stuff and all but when the fuck is my hygiene give a damn gonna return? It’s not like I am a slob (except when it comes to housework, but meh, love me, love my sabertooth dust bunnies.). This isn’t like me at all. Maybe during winter when I have to wear sixteen layers indoors to stay warm I am frumpy, but usually during spring and summer and even fall I like to have fun with hair and make up and clothes. It’s like some gremlin snuck in and robbed me of my girly gene. I may as well be a guy for all the give a damn I have now.

I need to shower. I need to go fetch my kid. Need cat food and litter. I was gonna see if I could find some cheap sparklers and smoke bombs, maybe let those off tomorrow for Spook. I’m not big on the July 4th thing. Fireworks mean noise, noise means anxiety. Pass. Still, I don’t want to rob my kid of enjoying it. Frankly, any holiday that isn’t Halloween just bores me. (And even that ends up tainted because the seasonal affect depression kicks in toward October so I never know how I am gonna feel on Halloween, and it sucks because I LOVE to dress up. I mean, how much more of a disability could this mental shit be when it robs me of the ONE joyful day of the year for me???)

Also sucking is that there are only like five yard sales this weekend. Stupid helliday. I have a little cash, gas in the car, and I was gonna FORCE myself to go do something fun even if it killed me. Now that’s fucked because I’m not wasting gas driving all over town to get to those five measly yard sales. That was the primary reason I went to Salvation Army yesterday, to get my used treasure fix. (Did I mention I bought a sheet for my bed that is burgundy satin and it only cost $1.99????TREASURE. Oh, and I got a different purse, cute little black thing with straps and buckles, $2.99. WIN)

That sixty mg Cymbalta has definitely made me hypomanic. Fuck. The split dose at least made it lesser. I know I didn’t go to school and get the education and training to know as much as the doctors but I know something they don’t. I know ME. And this shit does not work for me, I need to be allowed to tweak to fit my needs. (Oh and on another tangent, I looked at my pharmacy thing and generic Cymbalta for 30 pills still runs $70!!! It’s generic, not made of unicorn horns! Never mind insurance covers it, it’s still obscene.)

And now I shall watch another episode of Rizzoli and Isles then contemplate the shower and dish thing. Oh, and food. Stomach is growling and I am too lazy to fry some bacon. Pathetic. All these fucking cats and not a one of them can clean or cook. If they weren’t so damned cute I’d evict them. Except for Abby-Sin. I took the bitch of the litter and turned her into my cuddle bug. MY kitteh. No matter what Spook says.

Return to Work

My surgery was 2 weeks ago today, and yesterday morning I went for a follow-up with the surgeon.  She said that my gallbladder was “gross” and she called me “easy”.  Not that the latter was an insult – she meant in terms of not having any complaints.  I got a return-to-work slip dated for that […]

3 Days, 3 Quotes Challenge, Day Two


I have this one in a picture frame in my living room just like  the Marilyn Monroe quote. To remind me that I didn’t forgive the ones who hurt me to absolve them…I did it so I could stop hurting.

Too Hot To Think

It is currently 101 degrees outside, and probably about 98 here in the house with no air-conditioning. It is literally too hot to think, as I sit here at the computer in front of a fan turned up on Power Ranger and a bottle of water on the desk. I’ve got it positioned where it won’t drown ALL my electronics, but as clumsy as I am I have to take extra care not to open it until I’ve backed my chair away and have put the laptop on the desk. To make double sure I’m safe, I then turn to the side where the only objects I can douse are the floor and the dogs, who are lying under my chair where they think the coolest air is.

I love summer. I love warmth and sun and breezes. I DON’T love this, however, and what’s worse is there’s no real relief in sight for another several days. It’s supposed to be the same tomorrow and then we get a gradual cool-down into the lower 90s by the middle of next week; after that, temps are expected to be in the low to mid-80s like it’s supposed to be at this time of year. To say the least, I can hardly wait…I’m not a big fan of hot nights and choppy sleep.

Speaking of sleep, mine has gotten pretty wonky over the past few weeks, and I think it has something to do with the reduction in Geodon. I’m not worried about it yet—I have absolutely NO signs of mania or depression—it’s just unpleasant when I can’t get to sleep before 1 in the morning or wake up before 9. I also have trouble staying asleep, waking up multiple times a night. The heat, of course, does nothing to enhance slumber, but this has been going on for quite a while. I see Dr. Awesomesauce next week and will report this development, but I don’t think we’ll change anything because I’m still really stable and there is no need to fix what’s not broken.

In the meantime, I’m just going to keep sitting in front of the fan, drinking water and dreaming of the move to my son’s house next month, where they have AC in the summer and heat in the winter and I don’t have to pay for it. Good times!

Back In Black, Thinking Pink, and KITTENS

Where I went today:

1-pay rent

2- gas up ca

3- ATM for cash

4- pay internet bill…which has gone up to $80 a month when the package started out at $35

5- Dollar Tree

6- Return R’s card to shop

7- Pharmacy

8- Family Dollar

All the while my kid NEVER stops talking and traffic is thick for the holidays and it’s all I can do not to spazz out.

We came home, I unpacked bags, she continued to have the Grand Prix of chatter. I called mom, just to see if they had recovered from their stomach bug. Put it on speaker phone for Spook and my mom asks if she wants to spend the night there…UGH. Backed into a corner, yet needing the space…I had to say yes.

Got treated to a lecture how mom and sis and nephew have basically been living on bread cos they have no other food…Then they announce they bough Spook new shoes ‘c0s  they were on sale.” Mind you, my kid burns through shoes like crazy so it’s not ingratitude. But she had two new pairs in June and two wearable pairs left over,so if you’re willing to go hungry to buy shoes that aren’t necessity…Not feeling sympathy. Still…I took over a leftover pan of spaghetti I had even though I know Mom won’t eat it. It’s that marshmallow center thing, dagnabbit. In me, not the sghetti.

After I dropped her off at mom’s…I forced myself to go to Salvation Army store, in an effort to cheer myself up since I’ve missed most of the yard sale season. I didn’t have hopes of finding much. Ended up with two very nice black sweaters for winter, a cobalt dish, a hot pink flower bowl, a pink soap pump, and a 3.5 inch digital picture frame that had never even been opened (yet works beautifully!) for $15. And no, you are not reading wrong and I am not high or drunk. I did buy PINK. I like splash of color around the house, just not on my pear sized body. And when I bought the pink stuff…I thought of Sass and her love for all things pink!

My beautiful picture

My beautiful picture

Cobalt blue is my favorite, but I have a thing for colored glass, period. Maybe because I am fond of black clothes and neutral or jewel tone colors…I like splashes of brightness here and there. I am NOT declaring a love for pink, mind you. But hot pink amidst all the darker tones…It’s quite pretty.



My beautiful picture

My beautiful picture

Brimmy (Brimstone) in a dish

My beautiful picture

My beautiful picture

Pannyterror-AKA Pantera



My beautiful picture

My beautiful picture


JujJu’s newborns, yet unnamed…First one to open eyes…

My beautiful picture

My beautiful picture

Two of Five Jujubabes, one eye open, a yellow tabby with a bobtail:

My beautiful picture

My beautiful picture

And Juju’s six day old furpile”

My beautiful picture

My beautiful picture

Brimmy in the remote control holder, which they all tale a turn in:

My beautiful picture

My beautiful picture

Spook and my rose bush

My beautiful picture

My beautiful picture

My narcissistic “take my picture at all times” babe:

My beautiful picture

My beautiful picture

And again:

My beautiful picture

My beautiful picture

(A leprechaun stole her pants too!!!!)

I had pics of Juju and Voodoo and Willow and Nightshade but they are on the other camera’s memory card and I can’t be arsed right now.

We had to wait ten minutes to pay the internet bill again today. Irks me they have so few employees it takes that long to make  a friggin payment.

I told the landlord verbatim today, “Since those neighbors moved out, I am getting bugs again and I am NOT happy!”

To which he said, “Well, you need to get happy!”

Makes me wanna mail some cockroaches to his posh address, see him and his prissy wife get happy.

In yet another example of self torture…I am rewatching the last season on Grey’s Anatomy. First time I watched it, I bawled when April and Jackson’s baby died. This time, I was sad and empathetic but ok.

The Test is gonna be seeing McDreamy aka Derek die again…If I can survive that without tears, I am officially dead inside and a zombie.

For now…It is what it is.