Knocked Over By A Feather


Mr. Bean is My Hero

Social Security is reviewing my disability. They do this every three years for a case like mine. I got the overwhelming (for me) paperwork yesterday.

I want to do this someday.

I fucking love Mr. Bean, he’s my hero.

Anyways, so what does genius me do? I take too many Klonopin and knock my ass out for 16 hours.

Um, yes. Stupid decision. I’ve never taken more than 2 at a time. My shrink had told me that taking 2 was okay. I honestly wasn’t trying to hurt myself, I just wanted to go numb for a spell.

It looks like my anxiety and panic attacks are still a highly prominent issue in my life. You throw a wrench into the works and watch as Mer loses her shit!!!

I wrote a poem about it. Wanna read it? Here it go!

I am standing straight and tall

But then, a bad thing comes

Just like the Kool-Aid man

Crashing through your wall


The idea of losing my disability was the catalyst, the reason for taking that crazy dose of anxiety medication. If I had been thinking with a calm mind, I would have just taken the usual 2 pills and Googled the topic. It is a standard policy and nothing to be frightened about.

I wish that I was miraculously cured of my ailments. I would give anything to be able to go back to work and follow my dream of being a topless dancer.

No, I’m kidding. The only person who wants to see my boobs is my husband, bless him.

Seriously though, I wake up to use the restroom at like 5 in the morning and still get a bit of a hitch in my breath. Oh shit, I’m late for work!

When I realize that I no longer have a job, I scratch my ass and go back to my bed, still warm from my body heat.

I will fill out these forms, sign a release so that they can retrieve my medical records and then have my mom sign as a witness. If they decide to send me to their doctors again, I will do so.

And wait for their decision. And wait…..

Passing the Torch

Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don’t.

I’m not talking about candy. Although I love candy. Like, really love it. Especially the chocolate covered kind.

But I digress.

The thing about mental illness, it is always evolving.

One day, I am feeling pretty great, cracking jokes and wanting to work on my novel or chat with my friends.

The next day, I can feel like nothing much matters, everything sucks and that I am doomed to failure. I want to be left alone to stew in my darkness.

But at least those feelings eventually pass now instead of sticking to my body like a skunk sprayed me.

Excuse me Mer, but have you ever smelled yourself after not taking a shower for four days? A rosebud you are not.

Shut up, Mr. Skunk. Go eat some stink-weed or something.

My daughter also has clinical depression, OCD and anxiety, just like me, good old mom. I have passed the torch onto her. I had feared this for a long time.

I’ve┬átalked to a couple of good friends about this and I feel better about it. It was rather inevitable, I suppose. Genetics are a bitch.

At least she didn’t inherit her fathers ass-holism.

The doctor put her on Paxil. My baby girl wanted me there with her, so I was able to put my two cents in. I will be watching her like a hawk. She says that today she feels a little dizzy, but that should pass within a few days. We are hopeful that this med will do the trick and that she will start feeling better soon. If not, there are so many antidepressants that something is bound to help eventually.

She also has some non-addicting anxiety medication that could knock out an elephant.

Sumatran elephant, Riau, Indonesia
A warm glass of milk usually does the trick.

My daughter also acquired my sense of humor. That will get her far, as long as she can manage to never allow it to go missing for too long.

Like one of my friends said, there is always hope.

We’re going to be okay, somehow. Together.


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