Daily Archives: August 19, 2015


I don’t know how best to describe how I am feeling right now. Other than to say, like a fake. Here I am pasting on these smiles and sleepwalking through social exchanges and people think I am perfectly fine because I have been bullied and programmed to show nothing else. To show the soft underbelly, to expose the ugly reality of mental illness, is unsavory and taxing on others. So I must put on a good show and tell them, as well as myself, that all is well. I WANT people stopping by for surprise visits. Nope, doesn’t bother me at all.

Except, I don’t and it does. I don’t want it to bother me but it does, damn it.

What bothers me more is being in this position of feeling fraudulent by feigning that I am okay. I’m doing it for the comfort of others, sure as hell isn’t for myself. I’ve come to grips with feeling depressed, worthless, anxious, hopeless. Some days with mental illness simply ARE like that and it’s not fatal to admit it, accept it, and just hope it gets better the next day. But nooo. “For my own good” I am expected to deny, deny, deny, suck it up, snap out of it, deal with it.

What the fuck am I doing but dealing with it? Every time I paste on that happy functional face and venture out into the place that triggers me most…I am dealing. When I interact with others, especially those who catch me off guard, and don’t throttle them…I am dealing. With each handful of pills I shovel “for my own good” I AM FUCKING DEALING. So if I’m doing all this ‘faking it’ shit that is supposed to bolster me and make me all better…WHY AM I NOT BETTER? And okay, I’m running on 3-4 cylinders which IS an improvement over the last few months. But I’m an EIGHT cylinder motor so half functionality isn’t impressive or acceptable.

Tomorrow I get to go meet this nice elderly lady and jump through hoops to impress upon her how awesome I am, how functional I am, how my super human strength of character can help her fraility with her chore. Because big ass baby morgue can’t handle a trip to Wal-Mart without losing her mind so she needs a buddy and yet…I can barely count on myself and I’m gonna go tell this lady what a great person I am? Seriously? What the fuck is that?

“Tell the truth, lying is wrong.”

“No, you’re fine, just say it enough, it will be true…Oh, wait, you screwed me over,you lied when you said you were functional!”


I want fall and winter and I fucking want it now. Depression I can deal with but depression, anxiety, and hypomanic racing thoughts that confuse and frustrate and anger my daily…This is circuitry overload. And in this particular case, if I offend my “buddy” it will get back to my dad, who set this thing up, and he will launch into a tirade for my every misdeed or failure about how it reflects badly on him.


Crude, but it makes an adequate point. I am feeling the strain and the pressure which brings out my even fouler than normal language because damn it, I am being crushed under it all and no matter how I try or give or do…It’s never enough.

Why aren’t you getting well, Niki?


Seriously…If I had a broken bone, what would be expected of my while I healed? Some mild p.t. and exercises but mostly…rest, and heal. With mental shit, it just keeps coming at you. There is NO rest short of signing yourself into a psych ward. Which is a fucking joke because few people who go there actually get better. Most lie and claim to be okay to escape. So, no, there is no healing period for mental illness. Which is why I just keep running through this neverending loop of “get better, get worse, succeed, fail.”  I can’t focus on getting well when I am so busy transferring everyone else’s expectations and their pressure onto myself. I need to rest, to heal, to mend, to let the meds work without being hammered 24-7 with the very triggers that make me worse instead of better.

Now that I have vented my venom…I think it is crypt time. I need to drop out awhile, not think of this shit. It can be very cathartic to encase yourself in a dim room with a glitter lite and your favorite shows as a soundtrack while you just zone out and let your mind wander and your body un-knot.


That means, fuck the world with a barb wire dildo, by the way. Maybe I’ll spew some unicorn dust tomorrow. Magic Hate ball hasn’t let me know yet. About as reliable a way of determining my moods as bipolar is.


Happy Birthday to Me

Today is my 52nd birthday! To celebrate, here’s a flashback to my first birthday in San Francisco circa 1964. The first birthday is never complete without chocolate cake smeared all over baby’s face. Dancing with my dad made it a truly special day. I’m all dressed up, too!

Filed under: About Mental Health, Family Tagged: birthday, flashback, throwback thursday

Adding to my arsenal

not this time

The insidious black fog
begins to roll back in.
She can see it from a distance.
She can feel its presence.

As it moves closer,
she stands taller.
And with a look of determination
etched on her face,
she picks up her weapons
and strides in to battle.

It will not defeat me,
Not this time.

For twelve weeks, starting in September, I’ll be learning how to use Dialectical Behavior Therapy to aid in my battle against mental illness. After a lifetime of fighting for my life, I refuse to give up now.

My arsenal is holistic, with weapons that are both traditional psychiatric treatments as well as alternative modalities. My army is made up of my friends and family. My determination is strong.

Tagged: alternative medicine, DBT, dialectical behavior therapy, holistic medicine, poetry, strength, therapy

Domain Songtothesirens.com Is Currently Defunct

The domain name songtothesirens.com is currently down due to a lack of funding for the premium upgrade. You can find this blog at https://galaxybounce02rabbithole.wordpress.com for the time being. Hopefully, the domain songtothesirens will be back up in a week or so. Sorry for any confusion.Filed under: Uncategorized

Retail Therapy

I keep a restricted journal elsewhere on the internet, where I post the contents of my paper journal. A couple of days ago, I posted one that mentioned having done something bad (no further elaboration taking place here), and promptly got a comment about it from someone who I wasn’t even aware was actively reading […]

At Hom e

So I have a sick child at home today; she’s sleeping on the couch and trying to watch movies inbetwen naps.  It’s the middle one, the one I took to the doctor last week. We are hoping a day on some strong cough medicine will get her back up to speed and she won’t have to miss any more school.  So that is the hope.

I’m getting information about the classes I begin tomorrow slowly but surely.  So I am not quite sure what will happen tomorrow.  I will sign into the website and see.  He muttered something about getting assignments this week, so I guess we will jump in with both feet.  I am starting to get a little scared in that I just don’t know how intense this will be and how much writing I will be doing for this particular class. Hopefully there will be a syllabus up tomorrow and I can go ahead and see what  we will be doing.

I wrote a bit for the blog I guest at and need to figure out the photo editor and how to send one to her. I HATE PHOTOS AND IMAGES.  I don’t know how to work with them. But I suppose I will learn soon.  Tha’ts going to be part of this new media class so I will hopefully get to be a pro at it before I’m done.

well,. it’s lunchtime and I will see what I can get together for me and the girl.  Hope everyone had a good rest of the week.

Triggers and Respite

I did fuck all yesterday and it was lovely. Because I needed every last vestige of chutzpah to pick my kid up from that madhouse called school. Twenty parking spaces for two hundreds adults and kids, buses everywhere, traffic going in all directions and even with crossing guards it’s a clusterfuck. I parked way across the street and it occurs to me, I ain’t parking that far away and waiting in the cold this winter, something needs to change. Least yesterday I got there before the main flood of parents mobbed up to wait for their spawnage. Showing up to a high number crowd you can’t elbow through is a mega trigger for me. I was okay when  it was a handful of parents lingering. Then came the mobbage, then all the moppets were let loose, and I felt like the walls were closing in on me. Like a bag over my head and still being expected to breathe normally rather than claw and gasp for air. And the school has this charming thing where they let first grade out last, so I am there being circled by the vulturage of the dish, waiting for my kid to appear. She’s always, of course, the piddle poking last one. And the longer it takes for me to find her, the more panicked I become, since last year, they lost her. GRRRR.

I wonder if el shrinko would be willing to write me a note to take to the principal explaining I need to pick my kid up five minutes before dismissal to avoid becoming a basketcase. Probably not. My old awesome shrink lady would have done it in a heartbeat. These newer ones….Idgets, all of them. All of this could have been avoided anyway were it not for that stupid 1.5 mile bus rule. That still makes me seethe. And I swear I saw one of the devil girls get off the bus with her dad in tow, but I am sure i’m wrong. That’d make zero sense unless he’s had her classified as special and the district has allowed an exception to him riding the bus with her. (And having flunked first grade, the girl may well be special.) Nah, I’m half blind at my best, let alone at 7:50 a.m half asleep, it wasn’t them.

IDK. I am starting to feel like a bucket of  “crazier than I’ve ever been”. As far as self awareness, maturity, and impulse control, I’ve made amazing strides. Since having my spawn…The imbalance of bipolar/anxiety/paranoia has metastasized. And the doctors won’t even hear of it, it’s nutsy kookoo to think that whole pregnancy/labor/delivery/post partum thing might have fucked up my wiring even more. I just know I’m not the same. I used to have reasons for my panic, anxiety, and all around paranoia. Like having a cat in a building that stated no cats. I had every reason to fear surprise inspections and such. Now…I’m hiding nothing because I don’t have to. I have zero reason to be this paranoid and anxious, yet there it is. It’s not merely being a single mom and the responsibilities. This is insidious, unpredictable, and definitely hormonal/chemical/ a giant tumor with hair and teeth and a horn growing on my spleen, IDFK. By the time they take me seriously I’ll done by dead.

That has been the bane of my existence, physical illness versus the mental factors. I had stomach aches, panic attacks, nausea as a teen, and my mom did her due diligence dragging me to doctors, getting the proper tests done…And they all said, “You internalize your stress and it results in physical symptoms.” And the solution? “Don’t get so stressed out.” FUCKING BRILLIANT. And the lifelong gem, “You need to lose weight.” Newsflash- I didn’t fit your stupid ideal weight chart when I was ten because my dad is tall thus I am tall and have a larger frame than a petite person. Sure, I weigh more than I should, but I’ve had few physical problems so it’s very insulting to have EVERY doctor I see boil it down to my inability to properly process stress and oh, you’re fat. Helpful. NOT. And my sister, who weights less than me by almost a seventy pounds and wears a size 7, gets told by her doctor she’s too heavy based on some unrealistic chart that doesn’t factor in wild cards like frame size, genetics, etc. THAT is why I avoid doctors for the most part.

One saving grace with my shrinks- none of them have ever said a word about my weight. Ever. Because they know with mood swings, anxieties, and medications, weight can fluctuate drastically. And a ten pound weight gain if a med works is the lesser evil to them even if the general docs scream in horror. I knew the “ideal weight” shit was a racket with the doctors getting cutbacks for bullying people into that square when my kid was 4 MONTHS old and the doctor said she was growing too fast and her calories might have to be cut. WTF?

Okay, that’s the off topic trigger rant. Now for the brief respite part.

We had this awesome thunderstorm/downpour yesterday afternoon and evening. I love storms. My kid, courtesy of my sister’s influence, was running around like chicken little screaming “tornado!” rather than the sky is falling. I was perfectly calm and soothed. It got darker, it cooled off, and suddenly, I felt a serenity I’ve not felt in a long, long time. I fixed our supper, we both got showers, I read her a book, put her to bed…And though it took a little time…I slept without even taking my bedtime meds. I didn’t sleep through but I never do. I did sleep, med free, naturally, on my own, and it was wondermous. No morning coma aside from the normal “I’m a nightowl, daywalking sucks!” thing. I got her to school, on time. Now I am home and breathing even though a mountain of ass suck housework mocks me and the cats all need flea baths and Willow has gone missing after taking the screen window out while I was gone yesterday so I need to call animal control to see if they picked up any strays over here in the last day or so. Not that I have any money to bail her out if she did get busted. Dammit all.

I am trying an experiment, oddly brought about by my dad. He knows this sixtyish woman with no license or car and she needs a ride to pay bills and fetch groceries and such. She’s willing to pay for gas. I can barely go to stores anymore because of my anxiety. He was thinking maybe her and I could be “buddies” for such things, both of us having our needs met, her with a way around, me with someone for support when I am in the dish spazzing out. I’m gonna meet her tomorrow at her place, see if we hit it off. From a twenty minute phone conversation, I think we will. I’m not fond of conceding defeat and admitting maybe I need a buddy for support when in the dish but I’m not gonna dismiss it, either. My big thing is, am I reliable enough? I am at THIS moment but I can never foresee hours, days, weeks, months ahead. That’s always been the problem. My issues end up in me letting people down thus I earn their disdain. It’s never intentional, there is never a point where I decide to give up. It just happens, I hit the wall. I gotta try, though. A support system who also hates to go to Wal-mart but will take a bullet with me could be a good thing.

I’ve noticed one big difference between my blog and others lately. I don’t stay on topic well. I never have. Thinking the Focalin would fix that was my own naivete. This is either a damaged brain or my personality. I could try to change it but to what end? I see asinine blogs everywhere with little content, little depth, little interest, but that’s just to me. They have ten times the followers I do so I must be the boring one. I don’t agree with that cos I think I have a wicked sense of humor in spite of all the mental darkness and I have written some damned GREAT posts. Suppose it’s partially my own fault. Everyone knows if you want attention to your writing, even if it’s first grade level, you have to link with social media. Where the flotam and jetsem of humanity posts every detail of their existence, including bowel movements and pictures of their ass crack as they bend over to tend to their organic fruit garden cos they are sooo awesome…

Okay, little bitchy, but not without some truth. I see blogs out there where the writers may get the punctuation and all dead on but they have way less writing talent than I do, yet people flock to them like they’re sages. Arrogant of me? Perhaps. But writing is all I’ve ever been excellent at doing. Maybe I don’t proof read to the nth, I have errors, I ramble on…But I’m real, I have my own voice, and I’m not spewing what the masses want. I’m being me and telling my story. Truth isn’t appreciated as much as trashy entertainment or banal “I ate a salad for lunch” shit.

Meh, it’s too early to be deep or even venomous. My brain won’t wake up til 2 pm or so. Proof that I am half braindead in the morning is that I am rewatching this episode of CSI with Rascal Flatts…And I actually liked that song at the opening. I hate country. WTF? Could it be they are actually talented to spite their genre and popularity? UGHHH. It may not suck but I don’t think I’m gonna be trading in my Black Veil Brides “Coffin” ringtone for their song any time soon.

On the plus side, I am wearing pants. On the bad side, they’re pastel blue, baggy, and I slept in them. I need to change before I fetch the spawn. I need to clean catboxes, do dishes, blah blah blah…I want to sit here, watch CSI mindlessly and do fuck all. This school pick up thing has really worn me down, asinine as it sounds. I’m just doing what a million other parents do everyday, I’m not special and it’s only a big deal in my own mind. I know this.

Scumbag brain gives zero fucks.

What is the upside to the meds “sorta working” if all that functionality you “manage” results in days of being too drained to do much of anything? And don’t tell me to fight it, cos I already am. I am shaking my fists and stabbing it with sporks. It’s not doing any good.

And that’s all she wrote cos I have nothing witty to end with. I suck that way.



Disruption of Communication Between Two Regions of the Brain Contributes to Symptoms of Psychiatric Illnesses

Basically, when the synaptic transmission between the hippocampus and the prefrontal cortex is disrupted, symptoms of mental illnesses such as schizophrenia are seen. This has been known for a long time. What wasn’t known was how is this communication between the hippocampus and prefrontal cortex disrupted? That is, what are the mechanisms responsible for the disruption of communication between these two regions of the brain? Well, in this paper below, they show over activation of the D2-like Dopamine receptors leads to a decrease in another type of receptor called the NMDA receptor. This leads to a marked disruption of synaptic transmission between the two brain regions. This newly discovered relationship between the Dopamine and NMDA receptors may lead to treatment options for people with mental illnesses like schizophrenia.

“Synaptic transmission between the hippocampus and prefrontal cortex is required for many executive cognitive functions. It is believed that disruption of this communication contributes to symptoms observed in psychiatric disorders including schizophrenia. Hyperdopaminergic tone and hypofunction of NMDA receptor-mediated glutamate transmission are distinctive elements of schizophrenia. Here we demonstrate that activation of low-affinity D2-like dopamine receptors leads to a lasting depression of NMDA receptors at the hippocampal– prefrontal projection of juvenile rats, leading to a marked disruption of synaptic transmission. These data demonstrate a link between dopamine and hypofunction of NMDA receptormediated transmission with potential implications for psychiatric disease.”


“New research has identified the mechanisms that trigger disruption in the brain’s communication channels linked to symptoms in psychiatric disorders including schizophrenia. The University of Bristol study, published in the Proceedings of National Academy of Sciences, could have important implications for treating symptoms of brain disorders.

Many of our everyday cognitive functions such as learning and memory rely on normal communication between the two regions of the brain – the hippocampus and prefrontal cortex. While previous studies have identified disruption to communication channels in these two areas of the brain contribute to symptoms in psychiatric disorders, the mechanisms that lead to these disturbances have been largely unknown, until now.

In this study, led by Professor Zafar Bashir from Bristol’s School of Physiology and Pharmacology, the researchers studied the neurotransmitters glutamate and dopamine, which work together in controlling normal transmission between these brain regions by communicating chemical information throughout our brain and are disrupted in schizophrenics.

The team found that subtle changes in the interplay of these transmitters completely altered the flow of information from the hippocampus to prefrontal cortex. Over-activation of the D2 class of dopamine receptors led to suppression of the function of NMDA receptors, which are activated by the neurotransmitter glutamate, at the synaptic connection between hippocampus and prefrontal cortex. This in turn leads to a marked disruption of communication between these brain regions.

Dr Paul Banks, one of the researchers, said: “Our findings demonstrate a mechanism for how dopamine neurotransmission can influence NMDA receptor function at a connection in the brain needed for complex mental tasks which are disrupted in schizophrenic patients. It has been known for some time that dopamine and NMDA receptor function are altered in schizophrenic patients – our data mirror the direction of these changes and therefore might give insight into how these changes come about mechanistically.”