This is a mental health/mental illness blog dealing with daily life with words that are real and raw, video, pics, and music chosen by one fucked-up kitty. I am diagnosed Bipolar, with (crippling) Anxiety Disorder, and seriously horrific PTSD.
Sometimes it's a real treat of Freedom of Speech and Crazy to let it out, and scream something out in public when you just lose it, and let the stress out of your sails in one quick go, unlike the "unlucky" majority. Nope. Can't say everything is bad 100% of the time. Now take your meds and get ready...

This blog is permanently under construction/destruction.

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

No New Antipsychotic Is Good News?

Won't you have a piece of the pie too?

Found this in "images" and it looks like it could be for a couple different antipsychotics, eventual side effects if a lot of weight is gained from them, and no action is being taken.

The date that I quit the generic seroquel was May 18, and I still haven't had an anxiety attack. I still haven't gone out on a whim and jumped on a bus anywhere either. Disappointing, but not totally. I did not cause myself to develop agoraphobia to the extent that it has affected me, and I have to remind myself of that, and stop mentally punishing myself for that.

One thing I do need to do though, is make more of an effort to literally take steps out the door. Have a smoke on the balcony or on the bench near the door outside where you're not supposed to, due to stupid smoking laws. There, on the bench, I can sit and count the red roses that are trying to grow and bloom in spite of an overgrown bush of some sort trying to steal their sunlight.

Then there is the starschmucks on the corner that I was going to on occasion, which I'm really getting tired of. All of their seats are uncomfortable cheap pieces of shit, and it doesn't help my back, that's been acting up since I went off the seroquel.

I only realized today why I was a little instantly teary/instantly not - pms! I had an appointment with my Dr shrinker today and 4 weeks ago, so this would be the time! No wonder I was feeling a little weird and kind of down the other day. I haven't had mood swings though. It's pretty damn amazing. He - my Dr - told me today that the topomax actually does work for some people to manage the mood swings, but he's used to using more successful meds, and since I'm in that "spectrum" of disorders (bipolar), that it's eventually going to come back. I agreed. It's always been a pattern, no matter what the med cocktail.

We talked about what med to add, and I told him that I'd been doing some research. It turned out that we had been thinking of the same things. Abilify or generic Geodon (ziprasidone). I had been doing research over the weekend and making myself paranoid over what I'd end up with (or refusing to take). I found a shitload of terrible side effects for women for abilify, lots of possible side effects for all drugs in that damn class. So I had thought I'd try the ziprasidone again since it had gone generic, checked my Medicare Part D insurance, saw it was $80 a month. Ouch, but way less than abilify. 

I'd had the brand name ziprasidone before, Geodon, given to me for free, as the clinic I went to had a ton of free samples they were getting all the time. It was ok the last time I took it, but I can't remember what was going on at the time that I switched to something else. I'm sure I was on a few different things. What's new. 

I'm just glad I left the office without a single tear shed, and without a new Rx for an antipsychotic. I especially didn't want one because I woke up this morning all off balance, and have been all afternoon. I got up and nearly fell over on my way to the bathroom. After that, I was having to be careful not to hit the walls, etc. I was wearing my sunglasses at the Dr's office, and don't remember being so off balance there. Maybe I was faking it. They didn't try to make me get weighed in public, but asked how much I weighed for the record. I'd lost 10lbs of seroquel weight already. My word was good enough! :) I don't know, but the second I walked out the last set of doors into the daylight, when I was done with it all, I was all off balance again, even with sunglasses. 

Lucky I got a ride from the spouse. He didn't care about going to work anyway today. He's on "light duty" for 2 weeks due to injury at work, and filing an L&I claim. The owner of the co. is such a dick that he actually said in a meeting (I was told) with all workers present, that workers will be paying more because of L&I claims (referring to the spouse). Blame? Threatening? Both? I'd want to punch the fucker's face in. I can see why he wants to get the fuck out of there. Bad, bad scene and fuck-ups running the jobs, he says, doing things wrong. 

He said the other day that his life is weird, but he wouldn't really explain what he meant. He said "... living here, this place, us..." Then a bit later I said "your 'broken down wife'", as he once referred to me, thinking it was not an insult. Well it was a long time ago, and it stuck. He didn't really want to talk any more about it. I couldn't get him to talk much this morning either apart from what a dick the owner of his co. is. 

What will become of us? We need to talk, and he just can't seem to get into it...

Thursday, June 19, 2014

I Gotta Get Outta This Place!

I'm gonna go Billith if I don't get out alone tomorrow!

I'm over my cold, and ready to go out. Tomorrow is the perfect morning. I don't care if the spouse is going to work or not, I'm getting the hell out of here for my own sanity! Sanity?
D'oh! Whatever! He'll have to make his own damn coffee. He's fine, going back to work soon, so not my problem.

I'm going to have to venture out past starschmuckfucks one day very soon too. I'm sick of that shithole, even it I can drag my computer down there, and use up their electricity.

Off to bed early, up early, coffee early, smoke early, then exercise. :D It will be ok...

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Happy International Sushi Day/Night

What a bratty little cat I have! Waking me up around 3:30am, crawling around on the top of my hair and pillow, licking it, and purring. I managed to push her off a few times, but she came back, and did it again about 45 minutes later. That time, I thought I had her settled sitting next to me and purring. Wrong! Once again, she was in my hair, and had got on my last nerve. I had to get out of bed and look for her. She disappeared in the bedroom. So I went to the other room and called to her. She doesn't always come, but this time she did. Sucker! I threw off the damn hoodies that were hanging on the top of the bedroom door, and shut it. Message delivered.

I had another one of those "end of the world" dreams that I have a habit of doing, but this time was really different. I was lost for a while, walking down the street, which I knew was one of few of "the rich". I was headed toward some shelter of sorts that had been made by me and two other strangers: 1 dude, 1 chick. That was our little home, a squat.

There were no street signs, and the houses looked like the typical houses in a better neighborhood near here. From a distance though, you could see great chunks of streets risen, as if hit by a serious earthquake, smoke, fires, homes and buildings destroyed.

We, the remaining 3, I thought, were supposed to go out alone and gather supplies and bring them back to share. So we all snuck out and went our separate ways.

I ended up sneaking into a house that had what I thought were some surviving kittens, and no people. I was wrong. I was "caught" with the kitten while picking up cat toys by a young Japanese woman.

She said "Oh you must be the cleaning lady." I put the cat down and agreed, continuing to pick up whatever I could find that was on the floor. She told me that I didn't speak Japanese, of course, and that I was doing a good job. Then she said "Ok, when you're finished, I will pay you." Her parents came home at that time and she spoke to them and pointed at me. The three of them looked at me and walked away.

I thought WTF? of course, and realized I was in what was left of what was Japan, of all places.

I did a half-assed cleaning job, and snuck into the kitchen, but couldn't read any of the labels on the food. So I looked in the fridge and grabbed what looked edible. I had a black canvas bag on me for this purpose, and I started to leave.

"Hey, wait!" the young woman yelled at me. I froze. "I have to pay you. Here," she said, and handed me $22 american dollars. I bowed and said "Ok, thank you," and slipped out the front door.

I walked quickly down the street, but things didn't look quite the same. It seemed like I was walking forever, zig-zagging here and there, then finally admitting to myself that I'm lost. I sat down on the ground, next to a building. Fuck knows what kind of business it was. I couldn't read the sign. I pulled the money out of my black trench coat pocket and stared at it, thinking WTF am I going to do with $22? I'm fucking lost!

Bizarre. Never had a dream about being in a country that I haven't been to, but maybe this is just another new "end of the world" dream scenario that I'll end up repeating, like the others. Hopefully I won't be living it as the fucking cleaning lady!

Well, I'm back on my feet aka the treadmill since being sick, and like the idea of going easy today. While I was on the treadmill watching Supernatural, an alert came up on the tv for the game for Spain v Chile. I had to wonder when that was set, because I didn't see the spouse fucking around with the remote this morning.

I was up at 6, because I forgot to turn my alarm on, so I thought I better hurry with the coffee, so I made it, in spite of not feeling 100% (thanks cold and cat!). My spouse got a call from his boss asking about him. He said he texted him around 3am and said he wasn't coming in (due to his back and his leg). He told me his boss said, "Oh, that was you?" Sounds like the stupid fuck he described to me.

Well, tomorrow I should be feeling "normal"ish and ready to see what life feels like without that poison in my system, and without that terrible cold. Interesting... I'm going to try to make an attempt to go outside, but am probably already jinxing myself by making a plan, however loose. We'll see.

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Yet Another Reason I Don't Call Myself A Feminist

I came across this article the other day and it made me feel kind of sick. They never posted my comment because I didn't agree that it was "brilliant", I guess: 

FRIDAY, JUN 13, 2014 09:46 AM PDT 
Don’t want to give that guy your phone number? Let him talk to bell hooks instead!
A new app lets the feminist icon drop some wisdom to dudes who don't know how to take "no" for an answer
Katie McDonough

"I love it when brilliant and tech savvy feminists do something brilliant and tech savvy.

This "feminist phone intervention" is kind of perfect. If you're at a bar, in the supermarket, walking down the street or anywhere, really (street harassment and unwanted sexual advances are not location specific) and someone asks for your number and won't take no for an answer, you can now give that person icon bell hooks' number. Well, not exactly bell hooks' number but a generic number that will serve up an automated quote from the writer and activist through text or voicemail...

The makers of the hotline explain their inspiration like this:

protect your privacy while dropping some feminist knowledge when your unwanted "suitor" calls or texts.

because we're raised to know it's safer to give a fake phone number than to directly reject an aggressive guy.

because women are still threatened and punished for rejecting advances.

because (669) UGH-ASIF, WTF-DUDE, and MAJR-SHADE were taken.

because why give any old fake number, when you can gave bell hooks screen your calls?

so next time, just give out this number: (669) 221-6251 tech to protect."

This is what they'll get:

“If any female feels she need anything beyond herself to legitimate and validate her existence, she is already giving away her power to be self-defining, her agency.”

Reality is, if you give a guy a number, he can check it right then and there, and find out it's fake, that you lied to him, and get more than twice as pissed off at you for lying to his face. That may have made things much worse. Why not just say no. If that doesn't work, say it in the meanest, nastiest, equally threatening way you have to, if you need to, or call 911, or have the common sense to get the fuck out of there! 

What is it about lying about a stupid phone number that makes this particular fake-phone- number-giving-thingie the "feminist" thing to do? Protecting your privacy "while dropping some feminist knowledge" when your unwanted "suitor" calls or texts."? Do they honestly think they're going to listen to more than 2 seconds to realize it's not your number? Do you really think they're going to listen to this "feminist knowledge" you "dropped" on them? Do you really think it's a good idea when you're "in a bar or supermarket"? You're still there. Smart. Real smart. Brilliant. 

I wonder if this woman ever really walked the streets at night alone, walked in "no-go" areas alone? Walked anywhere alone? Dealt with physical abuse? I seriously doubt it.

I think this shitty article really rubbed me wrong because it involved a person talking about "feminism" and lying. I'm not really fond of the article because it involves lying, something that has become one of my most hated things in the world:  being told a lie, or having to even think of attempting to lie. I don't feel the need to lie. I find it horribly insulting to be lied to. Pretty fucking low, as in way down there low. Life or death situation is going to change things, if it has to. If lying is accepted and promoted as "feminism", I take no part in it. It gives people another reason to dislike or hate women (or men) that refer to themselves as "feminists". No more fuel needed for that fire!

I'm not sticking up for dicks who won't take "no" for an answer. In the end, you just have to be aware of your surroundings and people, and not completely tune out with your phones or whatever. Be prepared to stand up for yourself, and make an escape plan that you can live with. If you lie, better you than me.

Sad thing is that there's just too much hatred between people. I don't want to live like that. I don't want to be kept inside because of fear or anxiety, and it's not fear that keeps me inside. I'm still dealing with the agoraphobia, unfortunately. It's sad that people in general no longer use their manners, and that irritates me more when I'm already anxious and irritable out in public. Another thing that can set off some uglyass public angerfest. Embarrassing.


It's all in my head. It's all in my head. It's all in my head.

Monday, June 16, 2014

So Where Are We Now?

Holy shit, it's been a long time since I've been able to sit down, concentrate, and actually write. It's been one month since I went cold turkey off the 600mg generic seroquel, and what happens after that? I go and get a terrible cold from out of nowhere, like I can't remember ever having! I mean, criikey! I never fucking get out! I've only been out a couple of times to the store, to grab a coffee maybe once, maybe up to Post Office just to drop mail, the drugstore, and my spouse isn't even sick! WTF?! Just as I was starting to get used to feeling "normal" agoraphobia, bipolar, anxiety,  and PTSD on the current meds: all generic - 450mgs wellbutrin, 4mg clonopin, 40mg prozac, 150mg topomax, I have to go and get fucking sick and miserable. 

Well, not miserable, but a little irritable about the non-stop runny nose - like a fountain, partially taken care of by antihistamines for allergies, dry cough calmed by finally having a bit of phlegm coating, and my body's not feeling so much like I've been run over by a truck, and backed up on today. Too weak to even think about the treadmill. Lame. I feel so fucking LAME!! I NEVER GET SICK! I'm offending myself with this lameness and not being able to overcome it and just pretend all is "normal". Fuck fuck fuck fuck! If only I could get this pissed off about my anxiety... Hmmm... Maybe I will.

I have an appointment with my meds shrink on tuesday of next week, which is ok, I guess. I should be fine by then, maybe able to even catch the buses there, but I don't know yet. I don't want to push myself when I'm still feeling shitty. I don't even really want to think about it. I'm not even quite sure how I feel in the head besides the head cold going on. Damn thing's been giving me headaches, too. 

Before the cold, I was suffering quite a bit from lower back pain, so I've probably burned a nice hole in my stomach by now, but I refuse to take anything else but aspirin. Somehow the thermometer got lost during the move to this place, so I couldn't tell for sure whether I had a temperature or not, but I did feel feverish a couple of times. Then hot/cold. Kind of annoying. 

I'm so glad I have no shrink appointments this week, and I definitely am glad that I will be formally firing the last one after I receive the bills from her. I'm so grateful that I have no place that I have to force myself to go to this week, because I sure as shit feel like shit. No more dreading mondays. No more fucked up sunday nights because of it.

At least I'm able to sit up today and type this. I don't have enough energy to do much else. That could be from lack of enough coffee. I'm afraid to look at my main email account and deal with that.

My spouse injured himself at work, and went to a Dr. So he took the week off, said he was going to do an L&I claim, waits until the last minute and then asks me to basically fucking do this shit, and phone calling for him because he needed the help, and didn't know what he was doing. I didn't know either. He gets pissed and freaked out, directs it toward me, and I vow to myself to never help him again. I actually cried a few tears. On seroquel, I would have had a very different and way less emotional reaction. As in NOT ONE FUCKING TEAR. Of course I didn't let him see me cry. Later on he comes out and says he's not bothering with the physical therapy he's supposed to have made appointments for - this week, and went back to work today. I just shook my head and said, "there goes your claim." 

I don't know, but it's as if he wants to get hurt and not work or something. He says he hates his boss, who really sounds like a little dick and a 1/2, so I can't blame him. He claims he's thinking about joining a union  and getting work that way. He says that some of his former workmates have done it and made big bucks, especially working out of town, or state, something he claimed he didn't want to do when he was in England: paying for a place, working, and not living there. That was #1 on his hate list. And then there's me... ? Well, all the fucking bills are in my name, of course, I don't know where his head is at other than I think he hates working, and he thinks he should be able to retire at 50ish.

The other kids in his family have bought their own houses, or "married well". He never saved his money, all that he made, that he could have. Me, I never wanted the responsibility of a house that I couldn't afford, a giant debt hanging over my head like a noose for the rest of my life. I'd rather have the real noose. Unless I had a partner whom I could trust, that had my back, that had his shit together. I couldn't see that happening for me. I trust no one anymore, even if I am married now. 

The spouse seems too comfortable being unemployed, when it would freak the fuck out of me, if I could work. Must be a UK thing. I didn't give a fuck with it when I was there when I wasn't working, for the most part. I know where I was, but where are we now? It's not all B&W.

Frank Miller's Sin City: A Dame to Kill For - Trailer 2 

Frank Miller as a co-director working with Robert Rodriguez 

Monday, June 2, 2014

Kill 'em With Kindness

Yes... I do like this pic. Fractal art speaks to the crazy in me that seeks patterns without looking.

So what do I do this morning after bad behavior and bad communication/lack thereof last night? Get up noticing I must have fallen back to sleep after my 5am alarm! I jumped up, peeked around in my underwear and there was no one around. I couldn't even smell coffee. I figured my husband just left and went to grab coffee somewhere else. 

I threw on my usual black "workout" clothes and hoodie, and the husband came in from outside. Surprise! And he made enough coffee for both of us, even though he shut the door after he got up so that I might sleep in (for once). I got my coffee and meds, and was the first to say "good morning". Someone had to do it. He made his little efforts in his own strange ways. 

I decided today would be "Kill 'em with kindness"/fuck it...What are bad vibes going to do for me all day? Nada! So we were civilized and he even kissed me goodbye, though he was obviously nervous. I told him to have a good day and meant it. I just wish he could hear his own words and see his own behavior for once.

After that, I sucked down my coffee, and grabbed an empty starschmucks bag, keys, cigarette, and sunglasses, ipod... and ventured out the door, the hall, and the front door. It was a mild morning. I lit up, tuned in, and tried to walk slowly so I wouldn't be seen hanging around outside the shop. Didn't work, so I stood to the side. No one was out.

I mentally "thanked" ("fuck you"'d) the guy just before me who could have held the door; the timing was just right but when he looked down at my tattoos or whatever, he let the door go. No matter. I went in and stood right behind his ancient ass in line. 

Something weird was going on there. It looked like the manager/sup/whatever was re-training everybody by hand that worked there, even the most experienced, and he was standing at the register. The one asshole that treated me like a criminal over a 50-cent cup of coffee, that I had complained to starschmucks about online. 

He put on a fake mask with smile, and couldn't or wouldn't even look me in the eye, as I did him. His voice went higher and stranger than it did when he spoke to/at me last. I wanted to laugh. It looks like my complaints at least forced a mandatory re-training of everybody! Useless to me, but I'm sure it pissed them all off. They can thank their manager/sup/whatever for that.

It also looks like my online complaint ended up in a health inspection of the place too. I received email about it. There is now hot water in the bathrooms to wash your hands with, as there should have been in the first place, disgusting fucks!

Big happy smirk on my face now for that shit treatment... They suffer now and everybody else gets hot water! Even the homeless that come in there to wash, whether those fuckwads like it or not! Suck on that! They do NOT like the homeless. Fuck 'em. I'll still keep an eye out for their treatment of people, too. They need to learn to behave right. THEY are being watched!

Sunday, June 1, 2014

This Is Not What I Want

Ah... just when I thought things were going fine around here today and were going to last through the night... My husband had to get all pissy and demand the blinds be open in half the room, turning this place into an oven. All I could do was turn on my fan and ask myself why he's being such a dick. Why ask why? To make me miserable, of course. He knew I'd hate the sun and the heat. Then maybe a few minutes later, he asks me what I'm doing, all nice sounding, then quickly slips in the question of whether I have any cigarettes. Of course I had to open my trap and ask why he had to be so snippy about the shades. His answer, which made no sense, of course was,"well, if you wanted them shut, you could have done it yourself." I was already up and looking for a cigarette in my purse when he said, "just forget it. I don't want it anymore." He mumbled something else, and I asked him to speak up, and he told me not to ask him for anything anymore, and that I'm no joy (or something to that effect) to be around. Thanks. Mature. Supportive. Well-chosen words! You should have used my good kitchen knife, I just sharpened it the other day. Or maybe I should use it on you? 

Now you see why I had sickening anxiety asking him for a ride to the shrink or drug store? He always throws that dagger straight at me, fucking with my head and heart the most. After I gave his sorry ass a bunch of quarters for laundry first thing this morning, because he's too irresponsible to get them himself. He has time during the day and on a Saturday. 

He knows what I'm going through, that I'm going through pms on top of it, yet he stabs away. Well, I didn't bleed, and for some odd reason, I didn't weep. Not a tear fell. This coming from someone who's been weepy at the drop of a hat for the past few days! Anger instead, but not the same kind of anger that was ranging on the seroquel scale running from stabby, to slashy, to murderous. It was just... what a thoughtless selfish dick he's been! Pulling this "asking him for anything" shit, which is alluding to "asking for a ride", rendering me immobile, a prisoner, to suffer again. 

He went out in a huff, got his cigarettes, thew a few bucks on my lap for the quarters I gave him for his damn laundry today. Rude. He had his smoke, came back in and realized Game of Thrones is on. After that, bed. 

Sleep. Won't have to deal with his rudeness. Just sleep and turn my back on it all, and be alone tomorrow. Maybe I'll attempt to go out. We'll see tomorrow. I'll try and get up and out early, though I know he has to leave super early tomorrow. I look forward to tomorrow, and hope it's better than this evening, which I'm sure it will be. I'm looking forward to sleep and dreams. It's no wonder I find myself in different dreamworlds where I am safe with someone else.