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.

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Beware Of Flying Boot

"You'll come running back to me..."

Things got a little ugly around here from the stress, I actually lost it, and finally went off like a naughty person. Ugly words were exchanged, but I made no apologies for my outburst that was building and coming for a long fucking time. I've been holding a lot of shit in to keep the peace, but had to let it out for FFS - finally - because I have my limits too. There was a moment as to which direction the heavy boots was holding, and that I was going to put on, were going to fly: in the direction of someone's head, or toward the area of a door. They pretty much hit the door, lucky for the spouse.

I can't remember throwing something that potentially painful, if you were on the receiving end, for a longass fucking time, so you can only imagine how many months to a year or so I've been letting things sort of slide. Partly letting them take their toll on a part of me, causing me depression, but at the same time, building up some fucking red hot motherfuckin' ugly, potentially violent, unpredictable. I say "potentially violent" meaning that the well-deserving provoking person's (i.e. the spouse) head could very likely or would become the target of some crazy object one can quickly grab and hurl without thinking.

Fortunately, for the "target", I am not only blind in one eye, and therefore have no depth perception, I'm nearsighted as fuck in the other, so it's unlikely anybody would get harmed except for me out of sheer embarrassment for missing by a long shot, and letting something stupid let me lose my composure. Well, at least I got an apology for ugly words that were exchanged without feeling guilty in the least. I felt I was in the right, so I was pleased and accepting of a fucking well-deserved apology for once in my fucking life.

After that incident, I learned later that the spouse really did show up for his doctor appointment, even though it was only a GP, but he'd made an appointment and later went to a counseling session. I'm guessing to talk more about me and my "issues" instead of manning up to his, but it's a start. I'll give him that. I was glad he went. It gave him a reason to talk about the shitty atmosphere around here lately. Since then, the heavy atmosphere of unneeded stress and worry has been lifted considerably.

My agoraphobia is really not agoraphobia anymore, I've decided. It's just anxiety. I managed to handle being in a crowd indoors at a Dias de los Muertos celebration earlier in the month, which was cool. Now I'm just dealing with this going out by myself a bit differently in my head. The feelings and sensations aren't as heavy and all-consuming that I have to totally over-medicate to push through. It's somewhat different, but impossible to explain. Still fighting the anxiety though, it's changed a bit. The ugly game has changed, and is not as ugly and gut-wrenching. But fuckin' A, I still keep my meds on hand just in case. :D I'm still crazy, not stupid!

Saturday, November 8, 2014

Couch Carbohydrates

 "True Blood" marathon for the couch potato within
It's been a "True Blood" marathon on the ol' TV - what they used to call 'the idiot box', but which is no longer a box. Those were the old, old days. Imagine growing up in a world where there were no PCs, cellphones, and flat screen TVs. Yep, that world existed. No wonder people went crazy for coke and disco. I was too young for the coke. Not my cup of tea anyway. I can only imagine the terrorizing agony of anxiety it would cause. I'd fucking explode or die of a heart attack! Personally, I miss the old days when things didn't seem so shitty. Season 6 already. Almost done with the whole show. Shame. There were some funny characters, the least being the leads.

Mood is steady, under control, heat is on, but I'm still finding it hard to believe it's fall. Without the the perphenezine, and seroquel, it feels like my medications are more effective at times, or have more "side effects". Not bad ones, but I'm getting tired of the tiring one that happens too often. Maybe I'm taking the topiramate at the wrong time of the day? I'm too lazy to look it up. Could be the effect of being tired and slow, could be depression. Yes, mood can "seem" to feel steady, but the depression can still be there as another kind of thought. No drug can stamp out all emotion but painkillers, I would imagine. So why don't the shrinks prescribe those kind of "happy pills" when nothing else works anyway? It would also be convenient to have specific chunks of memory numbed out completely. Zap! But permanently.

The brain... What a bitch. A bitch that's too fucking active, and that will never shut the fuck up!

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

Day Of The Living

God damn, broads are tuff, despite their hormones, any MH issues... Yeah, me, today, right now.

One day you can feel, literally feel like slashing your own throat in front of a mirror with a brand new straight razor so you get it right, hit the right spot, see the start of the  blood gush out, see it clearly in your mind (among other suicidal visions), then bleed like you may need to go to the ER the next morning, realizing also that your head is clear of the deadly, noxious fog of stupid, useless emotions that you really have no control over due to hormones and "mood disorders" -- those "emotions" or thoughts that drag you to visions of suicide and/or creation of a "plan of action".
Madness? Self-kindness. Self-mercy. Self-care. Whatever can get your mind through that bit of time needed.

I gave up... well, quit is a better word, 16mg of perphenazine at night that I suggested/decided to take to both humor a couple family members and shut the spouse up. He thought I was "paranoid", acting "paranoid", and for some stupid reason decided to share that with an OCD and PTSD diagnosed relative (unmedicated, in denial), and the fact that I have a (legally purchased) pistol (with a license to carry a concealed pistol in effect). This is ALL (xcept for buying the gun, of course) due to the continued phone/computer douchebaggery/destruction/fuckery/childish games, now violating civil rights and constitutional rights with 'threats' of blackmail. What can you do with that? We shall see. Well,  the fact that he doesn't believe any of it, when he, himself has been affected by it.

Why the fuck would he do that? This relative does not know me, though they are close family. They are not friendly. They are pretty fucking antisocial themselves. Why he didn't call a friend who actually DOES know me is a complete fucking mystery, not to mention completely fucking stupid. He called the most hysterical, worst possible person he could call. So, eventually he had to tell me that he made this stupid phone call, and if topiramate didn't exist, he may or may not have kneecaps after that fucking stupidass violation of privacy and motherfucking stupid move. Nah.. I can get ugly, but only physically if someone attacks me first.

I had to talk to the whacked-out relative over the phone and convince them that the spouse is completely overreacting, and that the gun is not a big deal. It's for protection, as in self-protection, if I ever get outside alone. I mentioned one of the local drug dealer's death threats that I got, and she is just terrified and completely ignorant about guns to the point of NUTS. "Oh we don't want guns in the house"... I don't give a fuck what you want in YOUR fucking "safe" suburban haven, where no one can hear you scream... I never had plans on shooting myself. It's not my style, and not why I bought the gun in the first place well over a year ago, which I already mentioned. Now I've got to worry about if anything my daughter may know about is worrying or worried her.

The spouse also offended me by saying, "You're acting like (I think...) you're one step away from a tin foil hat.' one day. It was then that I wanted to punch him in the face, but the topiramate just sort of eased over those thoughts in almost an instant, replacing them with... almost "mellow" ones, surprisingly, but still irritated in a strange, calm, rational, controllable weird way rather than all-out furious about opening his trap to my family in the first place. And for being a dick. He should be kneeling down and worshipping the topiramate, and maybe asking me to up my dose a bit, offering to pay for every cent of it. All due to the fact that he's "tired of hearing about things not working on the computer or phone", and that he thinks I'm acting "overly paranoid". He just won't open up his fucking eyes, and refuses to see the proof that is available in b/w and//or color, right in front of him.

Fucking stressful as fuck having to live with someone that completely doubts you, writes you off, and thinks you know absolutely nothing that has anything to do with computers, just because he can add memory to his computer, buy loosening a screw or two, and snapping it into place, like any other monkey can do. He can't even make a guess at HTML and/or Java, logs, script in general, fucking names of programs loaded on ones computer? Or suss out a fake web page? After two OS destroyed on 2 sep computers, phone OS destroyed, fake bills, fucked up bills, now trying to violate my civil rights to get/sign up for Medicare Part D, etc. And yet he still refuses to examine or learn more about evidence presented! JFC! He cannot bear the thought that I might know something that he doesn't that has something even vaguely to do with computers or "smartphones". He cant bear to think that he is less knowledgeable about ANYTHING, or could be, than me.

I am on my 3rd (I think) try-out computer at the moment, trying to pick out one that feels right and has a DVD player, CD/DVD RW, and good sound. I think I want a little portable entertainment center and maybe some games (new to me). I have plenty of DVDs to watch, and CDs to play, if I have to dig those up. I was crazed at packing time and tossed the cases to make more room in boxes.

Since then, I've managed to get out more alone. "Armed", yes. It hasn't been a lot of times, but it has been when "necessary". I have dealt with people when I've had to. I still hate talking over the phone (due to the continued fuckery also - always did), but have dealt with that too when I've had to. Unfortunately, I never get to speak to a real worker from the company or bank, or other that I'm trying to reach. It's exhausting, but not for my foot to tap on the button that hangs up the phone, nor for my mouth to spew obscenities and shit. Bad acting and a limited amount of voices make people recognizable. The computer and phone are really nothing more than a convenience than a necessity.

I haven't yet made it all the way to the suburbs on the buses yet, which is a goal I've set, as I have a friend that is stuck out there, unable to drive, and in the disabled way of physical pain, so it's hard for her to get around. I'd like to visit, make it all the way out there, somehow. I know I'll make it. I have to admit, I do feel more safe having a gun in my purse, not carrying a wallet, and the least amount of valuables possible when out in public. Now if I could only use cheap purses, but I can't. I have to have good quality leather or some other stylish, well-made fancy fabric. Picky, picky, picky.

Here's to a happy late Dias de los Muertos

Day of the Dead is what I had been looking forward to in a way, trying to make myself less and less anxious as it came about finally. I bought makeup and a top hat to wear to the public celebration. I became less an less sad and anxious, and was good to go when the event came around. It wasn't that bad as far as the crowd of people part - there were a lot of Mexicans, lots to look at, lots of entertainment and a badass tamale stand with horchata. My daughter and her friend showed up as well as a friend and her daughter. I was all made-up, and dressed up. I had trouble sitting "like a lady", I noticed. Not used to wearing a dress! I did stuff myself in the end with Day of the Dead pan dulce too. Oops! My ancestor were honored, offerings given up, invitations to come back secretly sent out. It was a good night. Lots of people took my pic due to my make up and getup. I didn't mind at all. Hopefully one will email a copy to me! Didn't get a whole lot of pics. It didn't feel or seem appropriate except for the set-ups of the altars and "graveyard". Seeing kids with their faces painted was cool. It made me wonder what the non-Mexican or non-Day of the Dead were telling their children as they dragged them around. It seemed very bizarre to me. What could you say to a kid that wouldn't confuse them?

Now I have to stay alive in order to stay at a friend's house later this month. That ridiculous "holiday", "thanksgiving" has been cancelled. I have to remind myself that I have something to look forward to besides Dr Eye Candy, the shrink for now, halfway decent sleep last night and maybe more due to active hormones, and maybe some snow! Peace and quiet, hanging out with an old friend, getting away from here, and possibly playing with a dog in the snow. And wearing my ridiculous furry hat! I have reasons to go on kicking and screaming, if necessary. No restraints, just shoot me up with Haldol. I don't care if I drool.

I'll be just fine when this shit blows over, I'm physically "normal" again, and all is groovy. Well, groovy-ish. Back on more on even ground with the emotional crap and not falling asleep all over the place. Today is such a huge difference from yesterday's moods/thoughts/feelings/depressive shit. Hell, I might even make it outside again soon.