So it's almost Mother's Day, and I just keep getting angrier
and angrier at my mom. It feels a lot like what I felt towards her all through
high school, and I guess until I was pregnant with my oldest son. My mom went
with me to the doctor's office for my first appointment, and we heard the
baby's heartbeat, and it was just a really beautiful moment, and I held on to
it, making her mind-fucking a bit less glaring throughout the following years.
My birthday is on Mother's Day this year, and the day is a
very difficult anniversary of something my dad did. On my eighth birthday (also
Mother's Day), he set up this whole scenario, and after Mother's Day/My
Birthday dinner, whisked me off to one of the single most traumatic experiences
of my life. He said it was a birthday present.
This is all SO. FUCKED, and it's ME. Sometimes it still just
baffles me when I put that into perspective. It's just fucking crazy, and not
something anyone should have to experience. But I did. I am. I'm out of
loopholes on the insanity front - I'm left with my sanity and what is real.
Jesus fucking christ.
It is SSOOOOOO much! It presses down on me all the time; it
hurts every fucking day that I am awake; it is exhausting keeping it from
smothering me. I have been fantasizing about when I get old (like 80 or so),
and I will finally be able to die, and not have to deal with all of this shit
anymore. It will just be so peaceful and quiet.
Don't get alarmed about the yearning-for-death thing; there
is no way in hell I am leaving this earth without experiencing the good shit I have
coming to me. I still don't know what that good shit will be, but I strongly
suspect it will involve weekly spa visits and someone to regularly clean my
house.
I wouldn't leave my husband and kids, either. How shitty
would THAT be? Suicide hurts people so, so, so deeply. You can't hurt the people
you love more than by taking your life away from them.
I've very recently been on the outskirts of that kind of
despair and depression with someone very close to me, and whom I love very
much. This person is doing much better now, and is getting the help they need, which
is not far off from the kind of help I needed five years ago, so not only are
we all still alive, we can empathize with each other, too, so, you know: win/win.
Blargh. I ran out of decaf and used all regular coffee this
morning, and now I am all shaky and nauseous. I made that coffee know it would
make me feel bad, and I drank it knowing it would make me feel bad, and it took
2 1/2 cups, along with feeling bad, to finally stop drinking it.
My therapist was talking about those tiny little birds that
flit around on the ground in no logical or recognizable pattern. She said
that's what it was like talking to me right then. I knew it, and I know I am
doing the same thing right now, but it just starts to feel like too much after
a certain amount of talking or thinking about difficult things, and I bail. Abruptly.
That hopping around only intensifies with stress.
So between the caffeine and the stress, I guess this going
to be one hell of a flitty blog post.
I've gotten so much better at not shaming myself when all of
my neurological functions are making it difficult for me to communicate
anything, or even to process words. I used to feel like I was stupid, or that
other people saw me as stupid - the same thing with the dissociating, coming
back into my mind in a group of people not knowing what just happened, and
trying to re-start where everyone else is, and then saying something irrelevant
or ludicrous or mean.
Now it's just like, "look what you've been through, for
chrissake. You're really doing great, even if intelligent things come out much
more slowly (or not at all), and it could be a whole entire hell of a lot
worse."
And then I'm like, "you're so right. I'm just going to
lower my shoulders from up by my ears and try to relax about being perceived as
anything at all."
(successful Cognitive Behavioral Therapy right before your
very eyes!)
Well I can't remember what I started out talking about, but I
feel much less wound up now. That was an emotional writing session. I cried and
everything.
Cheers! (I'm watching the British version of
"Shameless," and brittishy things keep popping up. Like "cheers".)
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