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Baby Steps to Big Things I've been afraid, every time I try to lose this excess 100 pounds around my stomach, of failing. Afraid to start something that (again) I won't have the strength to finish. But in the last few weeks, there's been a resolve in my spirit that hasn't been there before; a toughness I haven't seen in myself in... years. I dare say perhaps a decade or more. Perhaps I am suddenly just resigned to the fact that this is how it is; that it's going to be hard. It's going to take sacrifce. It's going to suck at times. But I can do it. I'm not good at believing in myself. I never have been. But I've been taking little steps. Making healthy eating choices. Going outside and walking even when I don't feel like it. Staying away from the pastries at work. The little steps are adding up to me feeling better about myself. Tonight I went out for a 50 minute walk, and when I came home I was hot and sweaty and hungry, but also... happy. I felt like a glowed a little. And that's unusual for me. So, I'm moving forward, literally, one step at a time. One foot in front of the other, until I get there. Until I hit 150 pounds, or something around there that feels good. I think I might actually have a chance this time. The Warmest Love It's been a rough few days. Crying bouts off and on, self hatred at an all-time high, self-mutilation scenarios and images running through my head, general exhuastion. It all came to a head last night, as I spent over an hour in the arms of my husband, crying and talking, and confessing (I'd been secretly starving myself for the last 6+ weeks in a failed attempt to lose weight).
Everytime I go through one of these meltdowns my anxiety soars and the frightened little girls in me shrieks "This is it! This is going to be the last straw for him! He's going to leave your ass for sure, now!".... but it never happens. If anything, (and Lord knows I don't know how he does it) he gets MORE loving, MORE accepting, MORE gentle and kind with each breakdown, and holds me longer, talks less, listens better, shows greaters empathy. He amazes me.
This morning I woke up and all I could think about were those strong, warm, tender arms, and the way the Love of God radiates out of my husband and into me when he holds me. It's the safest place in the world. I didn't want to go to work. I didn't want to go out into the big bad world all alone. I just wanted to curl up into those soft, loving arms and know that I was safe. Not only am I safe from the bad guys, but I'm also safe from rejection. He knows my secrets. He loves me anyway. And THAT... wow.... that blows my mind. Even now, 24 hours later, I can still feel the warmth of his embrace. I crave it more than I've ever craved any sweet thing to eat or any material possession, because it represents something I've waited my whole life to have; a Home. A Safe Place.
He worries that there's nothing he can do for me in these bouts of deep depression but pray for me. But what he doesn't know is that his Love, the Love of God that he allows to flow through him, into me, does so much already. It gives me a foundation. Something to stand on. Something to lean on; something I know is there to hold me up. Most importantly, a reason to keep going, to not give into the thoughts, images and ideas screaming through my head.... a reason not to hurt myself. Because I need to keep myself whole for this Love. This precious gift from God. At a time in my life when I feel mostly deserted from God, and am fighting not to be angry about everything going on in my head, it's the Love that He's given me in my life that reminds me that He is there, and He must love me, to give me such a beautiful gift.... Thank you, Jesus, for my husband; my soulmate, my bestfriend, my lover, my Safe Place, my Home. Summer Vacation It was the last day of school. I was talking to her teacher when I felt her body hit me at warp speed, small little arms wrapping around my waist tightly, her beautiful face buried in my shirt.
"I love you, Mother," she murmered into me before letting go and running over to a friend to say goodbye. I could tell by the voluntary public affection that the reality of this being the last day of Grade 2 had hit her a little between the eyes, and she needed her Mommy, but just didn't know how to say it. I gathered her friend's phone numbers so we could make playdates during the summer, and we piled up all the papers, school work and her report card and made our way to the car.
I had prepared myself to have to drag out a crying, upset little girl, and instead she was singing her way to the car. Confusing me.
"You seem happier than I thought you'd be today." I said, swinging her hand, loving the contact with her, marvelling at how pretty she looked with her new Fuschia Funk (pink) hair.
"Keegan sad." she said in that silly baby voice that drives me crazy, and grabbed my arm even tighter, and I realized my little girl was probably just putting on a brave face. Okay then, we're going on with The Plan. Off to the coffee shop we went.
I took her to the local coffee shop down the road where they serve her favourite Green Tea drinks... of course, being who she is, she wanted to try something completely different, and that was fine with me. We each got a milkshakey-type-thingy and she picked us a nice table under a lamp and we sat down and talked about her Last Day and some plans for the summer.
We laughed. I tucked Fuschia hair behind her ears. She was determined to finish her drink before me, while simultaneously trying to convince me it "wasn't a race" (she won the race). I stared at her. She curled up on my lap and asked me to wrap my arms around her and she said I was nice and warm. I think I was safe. In an uncertain time, when you don't know what to do, or where to go, a Mother's arms are a safe haven. I felt unbelieveably blessed to still be that safe place for her; to hold her and be so very proud of her and all she's accomplished in the last five months... how much she's matured, grown, learned about herself... to see all that and know that I am a little part of it. Wow. It was one of the most amazing hours of my life. I looked into her eyes and saw a beautiful young woman staring back at me. Not beautiful because of the big brown eyes, or the pretty pink and auburn hair, or the little freckles, or the button nose... those are all things that make her outside beautiful. But if something happened and I went blind, she would still be the most beautiful person in the world to me because of her giggle, the way she holds my hand, her kindness to others, her gentleness, her sense of humour, her uniqueness, her keen intelligence... everything that makes her... Keegan. My baby. My miracle. My princess. Now, my PUNK Princess. *lol*
Summer vacation has never filled me with so much joy. Yes, we will have to figure out babysitting and schedules. This will be one of the first summers I will be working, and that presents a series of challenges. But when I get home, everyday, I will have a special little person waiting for me with open arms, and I can't wait to spend the next two months playing cards, Scattergories, having snuggle-reading times on the couch, watching movies, going for nature walks, and just doing all the things we haven't had time to do together.
Thank you, Jesus, again, for my little girl. :) Moving Onward I visited my pyschiatrist today, and we agreed that I will keep my medications as they are for now; the pros outweigh the cons at this point. While I am numb and wish I could feel a little more upbeat towards life in general, I am maintaining a fulltime job, a marraige, and a household relatively well, and there's something to be said for that. Of course, there is a voice inside of me I am trying to quiet that wants to jump up and down in protest and scream "It's not fair! I shouldn't have to sacrifice my personal happiness for a job or home stability! I should be allowed to be ME!!!" .... but that voice is also the voice that tries to hurt me when I listen to it, so... I'm telling it to shut up at the moment, and trying to move forward in dignity and not despair.
In other news, I am currently experiencing my fourth bladder/kidney infection in about 2 years. I have a sneaky feeling the medication the doctor at the Walk-In gave me on Sunday didn't do the trick (took the last one tonight) and it's still hanging around. So tonight I'm gagging down cranberry cocktail (YUCK!) and praying I won't have to go on the stronger course of antibiotics, which make me very ill. I'm also not drinking any yummy drinks at work, because I've heard infections love sugar, so I'm trying not to give it anything to feed off of. Besides, it'll be good for my wasteline.
Tomorrow I'm going to attempt to get up a bit earlier than usual and start my day off with a devotional for the first time in .... forever. It's life's little idea of a joke that I should feel the need to do this at a time in my life when I get up at 3:30am already ... now I guess we're going to make it 3:15am. Good grief. I'm going to attempt it, anyway. If I just can't get out of bed, I just had the idea that I could do it on my first coffee break at 7am, since it's 15 minutes long, and I'm never doing anything but sitting there, anyway. I can just pack the book along with me and do it in the big comfy chairs. I really do need to find my small Bible, though, too, so I could pack that along.
I remember how peaceful and joyful I used to be when I started every day out talking to God, or reading my Bible, or singing, or just hanging out in His presence. I really miss that. And I could sure use it right now. It takes an effort, on my part. Sometimes it feels like I've got nothing left to give; no more in me to give to one more thing, but if it wasn't for Him, I wouldn't even be here, and, as Father's Day reminded me, I do have some pretty awesome presents from him ..... a beautiful daughter, a loving husband, good friends, and many other things. So 15 minutes a day to say "Thanks!" shouldn't really be that big of a deal.
:)
Yeah, that's what I figure, anyway. That's the plan.
The Pros and Cons of Numbness Thank you, my friends, for taking the time to read, comment, and care. The common theme seems to be taking time and doing something for myself. I can tell you in the rare spare time I do get to myself, I have recently been catching up on my Laurell K Hamilton books, thanks to the public library. I am now all caught up in both the Anita Blake Series (except for the very newest book which the library doesn't have yet) and the Meredith Grey Series, and I am both happy and saddened about that. Happy that I was wisked away into her make-believe worlds of vampires, lycans, faeries, ogres, and the like, but also sad that I now have to sit around and wait for her to write more books in both the series. But anyway, I have been doing some reading in my spare time, and escaping to imaginary worlds, and coming out calmer, and ... wishing I was a werejaguar. *grin*....... *purrrrrr* ...... That's what I've been doing for me.
Now onto today's post. I have been thinking alot the last week about the numbness I'm experiencing. With every medication I take, after awhile, there comes a time when it seems to build up in my brain, or something, and I just get outrageously numb. Bad things can happen around me and I won't react to them much. Good things can happen around me, and I won't react much. Of course, this is the point of the medication; to make me less reactive to outside stimuli, so I can function on a daily level, but when too much of the numbness creeps in I begin to feel emotionless altogether, and I don't like that. I didn't sign up for having all joy removed from my life. Or pain, for that matter. A little bit of happiness and sorrow is expected and normal in everyone's life. The medicine is just suppose to keep me from feeling like everything is either the end of the world, or that I'm going to spin out of control with weirdness/hyperness.
Well, it's working! A little too well. And originally, when I knew I was going to be seeing my psychiatrist next week I thought I better talk to him about this and possibly change meds (a very physically and emotionally draining task), or change my dose, or do something about this... but then I started to reflect on my work situation and my home life and what this medication (and the resulting numbness) is actually doing for me, and now I don't know what to do. So I decided to take a look at the Pros and Cons of the Numbness with you all, and see what you think. As always, your comments are welcome, and appreciated, as I will be seeing my doctor in 4 days.
Pros of Numbness ~ I am working at a high-paced, demanding job. Starbucks is crazy busy. I'm serving hundreds of people a day, sometimes more than 30 people in a half an hour through the drive thru. I need to be in control of my emotions, and not react to people snapping orders at me, customers complaining, or me making mistakes, all of which happen regularily, and all of which, without a certain amount of numbness, I would have a hard time not crying, or getting angry. Now, it just rolls off my back, I say "Okay", or "I'm sorry", and just keep on going, with hardly a ripple in my spirit... no more soul-wrenching sadness or sense of doom.
I am working 38 hours a week at Starbucks and anywhere from 8 to 16+ hours at Addition Elle, and besides my back being sore, and being a little tired, I'm fine. Last year, before the Topomax, I couldn't work more than 20 hours a week without completely falling apart, and every little confrontation or speculation on my part tortured me. Now, do I wish I had more time with my daughter? Of course. Do I wish I had more time with my husband? More of the housework done? More time to read? Of course I do. But that's not what the issue is. What I'm talking about is, the work itself isn't killing me. Part of it is the company of Starbucks; getting a break every two hours, their policy of having respect and dignity for their employees... and part of it is that I have great people to work with, and I have fun, and I laugh, and I can act a little goofy, and be... a little... "me". I feel like it's relatively safe to be most of who I am there. And that makes it easier. And that's part of the Pros of the numbness, too; the removal of fear. Usually I would be terrified of rejection. Now I don't care as much. That's huge for me.
All of the benefits I've described for work, also translate into my home life, and particularily into my marraige. My marraige is a much more peaceful thing since I have just stopped fighting the little things that don't really matter, but have started standing up for the things that do. Our working realtionship in the business is running smoother, our co-parenting is running smoother, everything is calmer, because I'm not a control freak anymore. The numbness has taken the urgency that THIS MUST BE DONE MY WAY!! mostly out of me, and now I just think before I speak "Will it matter in a year? No? Then who cares..." and I just let it go. Anyone who has been around my husband and I for any length of time will know this is a MOMENTOUS change in me which could not have been made without medical intervention!!! *lol* Now I can concentrate on loving my husband, and all the things that are great about him, instead of nit-picking about the things that drive me crazy. Because now they don't.
The same can be said of my daughter. I don't get upset over trivial things, and I think I'm a better mother for that. It helps me enjoy her company more. I'm just more relaxed.
Cons of Numbness ~ I think the number one Con has got to be that it's hard to summon up emotion for things. My emotions are very flat-lined, and so I don't feel a lot of excitement, joy, things like that. It makes it hard to want to make plans with people, get on the phone and talk to people, because what do you say? They ask how are you and I say "Fine." They ask what have you been doing? "Working, and sleeping." ... I just don't really want to talk to anyone or spend any time with anyone, and while part of me really misses some of my friends, mostly I'm so numb it feels like it just doesn't matter. But of course it does... once I come out of this medical stupor, if I ever do, if I'm friendless, I'll be devestated.
The emotionlessness doesn't just effect my friendships, it's broad-sweeping. I sometimes wonder if I love my husband, but of course I do. I sometimes wonder if my daughter would miss me if I wasn't here, but of course she would. It creeps into my work ethic and I sometimes don't do my 100% best, but then I catch myself and put a stop to that, because I've always prided myself on having an excellent work ethic. The only Pro to be emotionless is that it's harder to get really depressed, but in a way, it already feels like I'm there. It feels like this is a low-grade depression I'm just kind of stewing in, and once in a while, someone stirs the pot, and I get hit with a chunk of Happy, or a splash of Goofy or a sliver of Sadness.
Of course, all this leads to the thing that bothers me the most about being numb: the loss of self. All my life, I've been the "over-emotional one". While I don't like that title, it does describe me well. I cry at commercials, I am extremely empathetic, I get angry at morons easily, I can be moody and be prone to heavy, long depressions. I know all this about me. Without medication, I'm a wreck. So, I take a little bit of medication to tone myself down a bit, so I'm a little less DRAMATIC, but still myself.
But right now, I don't feel like myself. And that bothers me. What bothers me MORE, though, is the knowledge, that "myself" can't hold down two jobs, and "myself" can't keep a peaceful home life going for long, so.... we come full circle. See the dilemna??
This has always been an open forum, Faithful Readers. Please Comment and give your two cents about the Pros and Cons... Thank you so much for your love and support over the years. Much love.... ~~Shiray~~ Less Than I Ought To Be It has been a seriously long time. No doubt my faithful readers have moved on, no longer patient with the drought in my writing. I am sorry. I am especially sorry for leaving my last post in such a sad state. I am not regretting posting it, for it was my true feelings at the time, I only wish I had the fortitude in the last two months to update you all and not leave you wondering, since the tone of the last post was so... dreadful.
Several things have been responsible for me not writing. For one, there was a major computer virus, and the hard drive was wiped clean several times and my computer time was limited. For another, one of the job interviews worked out, and I started working fulltime for Starbucks... I now get up at 3:30am to be at work at 5am so therefore I am in bed by 7:30pm, again, limiting my computer time. Also, I have hit the (what seems to be for me) inevidable numbness-wall with my medication. It seems every time I am on a mood stabilizer for longer than six months or so I start to even out on it so much that I get to the point when I don't really care about anything. Everything becomes.... *shrug*.... not so important. Which is partially what leads us to today's post, of being less than I ought to be.
I have a picture in my head of who I'm "supposed" to be. And this is not it. I'm SUPPOSED to be a Bible-reading, peaceful Christian woman. I'm SUPPOSED to be able to hold down a full time job without becoming completely emotionally and physically exhausted. I'm SUPPOSED to be "connecting" with my husband more and making him feel more understood and more validated instead of just tolerated (I of all people should know how belittling that feeling is). I'm SUPPOSED to help my daughter grow into a confident young woman. I'm SUPPOSED to show my step-sons what a kind woman looks like. I'm SUPPOSED to be a good friend, call, go out for coffee, send a card. I'm SUPPOSED to be a good daughter, sister, granddaughter, family member, and remember to book off important dates from work and show up for graduations and dinners and call more often. I am SUPPOSED to be in control of my eating habits, get enough exercise, and take care of myself. Be assertive. Be kind. Be strong. Be loving. Give a shit.
The only problem is, I'm.... less. I'm spent, I'm cranky, I want to be left alone, I don't want to call anyone or go anywhere, or be nice. I Just. Don't. Care. I can't seem to wrap my head around stuff. I can't seem to remember. I can't seem to do enough. I just don't have it in me.
And it's not that I don't care. Cuz really, I do. Anybody that knows me, even a little bit, knows that's true. I just don't know what's wrong with me. And this inner turmoil, this inner struggle, the tiredness of getting up, getting it done, washing another dish, making another latte, fixing another sibling rivalry, making another pot of spaghetti, listening to another story, trying to get along, trying not to cry... the tiredness of it all, and the knowledge inside myself that it's just TOO MUCH, that I'm going to SNAP at any moment...
... It makes me hate. It makes me hate in a way I never thought possible. The thought of another failure, another person being wounded by me, by my sickness... I hate. I hate who I am. I hate that I am LESS. Less than I am supposed to be. And not just a little bit. If I was failing in one, two, maybe even three areas, I might be able to feel some hope that I could fix them, forgive myself, and move forward. But I fail in everything. Because that is what I do. Because it's who I am.
"So change! Fix it!" you might say. Dear Lord, if it was that easy, I would. I try. I try every single day. Every day I wake up and think I'll just take a baby step and maybe today I won't mess up my kid. Maybe today I won't hurt my husband. Maybe today I won't disappoint a friend, or my Mom. But it never happens.
I'm not looking for perfection. I know it may sound like I am, but I'm really not. I just want to stop hurting others, and start being who they need me to be. Cuz right now I don't know who I need me to be... maybe someone else can give me a little guidance, and if I'm who other people need me to be, and I don't hurt them so much, I won't be so angry at myself, and I won't want to hurt myself so badly.
Last night I had a dream. I dreamt I was in a car with my husband and he was asleep, and I was driving down a road, very fast. I started to turn a corner, and the car wasn't going to make it. At the side of the road was a big brick wall. Everything slowed down. In slow motion, I shoke my husband and said, "Wake up, we're going to crash!" but he kept sleeping.
I've had car-crash dreams before, and usually they're terrifying, and I wake up screaming "NO!" or I scream "Jesus! Save me!"... Last night, I saw the wall coming for us, and I knew I was going to die, and I raised my hands in the air and screamed
"Jesus! Yes, take me home!"
I'm so ready. I am so done. Lord, help. Insanity Puzzle Insanity seems to be a puzzle my mind wants me to construct, for it keeps adding pieces, regardless of my feelings about it. These days of chaos, of resume writing and interviews, of appointments and cancelled work shifts, of Spring Break for the kids, and extra work hours for the husband, these days are full of numb, empty, searing, jarring pain for me. Physically, emotionally, spiritually, I am weeping, aching, continually.
I'm unsure if it's the change in the medication, the fact that I was without my Luvox for nearly a week, the stress of looking for work and all the insecurities that brings out in me, or a combination of all of the above. All I know is, I am terrified. Tomorrow I go for two more job interviews and I barely feel capable of dressing myself today. Then the next three days my husband will be working all day... and I do mean, ALL DAY... I will be alone for 13 hours a day, for 3 days. I want to scream. On the one hand I am glad we had planned this weekend for my Mom to take my daughter for a special Grandma-time. On the other hand, that means I will truely be alone.
My mind is spinning. Gone are the dozens of crazy-making thoughts. Now when they come, there are only a few. And usually, they're so loud, I can't help but listen. I binge, but nothing tastes good. I make love to my husband, but the pleasure is over in seconds and the emptiness swarms in again like a flood. I literally felt it last night. While he was inside me, for a few moments, I was doing alright... not great, but alright, then as soon as we were laying beside eachother, breathless, the wave came over me, and darkness hit me like a wall of black ink and I was stained by it once again.
Tonight I lay in the bathtub, steaming hot lilac-scented water trying to distract me from my racing thoughts. I tried to will the water to soak my sorrow into it, but it didn't work. I want to hurt myself. I'm way beyond the thoughts of merely wanting to cut or burn myself now. The images coming to my mind were of pulling my hair out at the roots, gauging my skin with my nails and grabbing chunks, handfuls of skin and flesh from my arms and legs and throwing it away from me. Is the self-loathing that strong, that I would want to do this to myself?
What is wrong with me? I fear the pieces of the puzzle are coming together faster than I can seperate them. I don't know what to do with myself, besides write it out. Keep busy. Talk to someone. Anyone. Online. On the phone. Stop myself from being alone. So very alone. Ch-ch-Changes Clarity is a rare thing for me, and when it comes, it comes in small doses. I lap it up like a grateful little kitty getting a treat of sweet cream after plain old water for months, and I use it to sustain me for the months of plain old water ahead. My job has been scaled back to one 4 hour shift a week and I am left with no choice but to buckle down and look for work; my second least favourite thing to do in life (right after scraping used gum off the bottom of tables with my teeth). My least favourite thing to do in life is start a new job, which will come shortly, but for once, I am managing to not freak out about that early, and just concentrate on the first thing, first. Resumes, looking, applications, baby steps, deep breaths, grieving the dream that was the job that I had and all the hopes that I had for it and the dashing of those against the Shoreline of Doom. Oh, look. There's some gum under the desk. Goody. Bang Head Here The poster at work hangs innocently on the wall, advertising a free space to bang my head if need be, in the name of "Stress Relief". I don't know very many people who find relief in a migraine, but I do know a few people, including myself who would be tempted to bash our heads into that circle until we see blood. Alot of blood.
I don't think that's what the boss had in mind. Pity, really. Cuz all this silence inside my head is deafening me. I once thought the voices would drive me crazy. Now I think the quiet it eating away my soul. Can't there be a happy medium? Lordy love a duck, I just can't seem to ever find a balance. At the beginning of February I finally caved in and went back on Risperdal. I couldn't take the constant nattering going on in my head anymore. I had put on 16 pounds I was binging so heavily, and I was fighting it every second of every day and I was losing bitterly. I wanted to hurt myself in unimaginable ways and I couldn't take it anymore. So I saw my psychiatrist and he suggested we try the Risperdal again, even though it caused severe weight gain in me about 4 years ago, and pair it with Topomax, which was originally made as a seizure med, but has been found to stablize moods, and help with appetite suppression.
By the thirteenth I was feeling great! The voices were gone, I was sleeping through the night, I hadn't binged once, I had lost 4 pounds, and I was calmer. I noticed I was still a bit irritable, though, and I was dizzy and slightly confused thoughout the day if I didn't get at least 8 to 9 hours of sleep the night before. I told the psychiatrist I would try it for 6 more weeks, and give him my final decision then.
In the last 5 days it seems like my world has slowly started to unravel before my eyes. I've been sick with a cold since the 10th, and it keeps getting worse. I have the sneaky suspicion I'm now lingering into pneumonia territory and that terrifies me. For all my talk of sometimes wanting to die, it's the chemicals in my brain talking. And if I DO go, I want to control it. As stupid as that is, I don't want to drown on fluid in my lungs in my sleep. I'm having trouble breathing. I ache all over. I just want to curl up with my fuzzy blanket and my purple teddy and have someone rub my sore back and make me soup and bring me tea with extra honey. Instead, I have to feed my daughter, and do laundry, and go to work, and all those other things I always have to do to keep this place going that no one really sees or appreciates. Some of the voices are starting to creep back in, and wouldn't you know it, it's the nasty ones. I sit here, huddled in my blanket, dreading going upstairs and being attacked by my daughter with "What's for supper? What are we doing now? I'm bored! When's Daddy coming home? Can I have a candy? Look at this! Watch me! LOOK!" ......*Shiray screams into purple teddy* I just want to retire to a desert island and die in peace. Either someone come take care of me, or everyone leave me the hell alone. Cuz it's taking all my energy right now to fight off this thing in my lungs, a possible urinary tract infection, a sore knee, a bad back, withdraws from cutting down on my pills so I don't run out before we get paid, emotional stress from being broke, self-doubt, the urge to cry pretty much 24/7, and the sneaky, diabolical little voices that have snuck back into my head in the last 3 or 4 days gently whispering, like drops of blood dripping down a "BANG HEAD HERE" sign...
Look at him with her... he's never going to stay with you. There are plently of beautiful, capable women out there without all your hang-ups that would gladly have him and love him much better than you ever could.
He doesn't even talk to you anymore. He'd be happier with them. You should just go.
She needs someone more stable. It's not her job to be caring for you. Leave her with her father and just go.
You're never going to find another job you can do. You're a fucking joke. You can't even type out your resume. What good are you?
They're trying to get rid of you. No one wants you. No one even wants to talk to you. Look at all the people you called this weekend. No one even called you back! You're pathetic. Everyone knows it. You wear it like a fucking badge. Like a cloak. You can't get it off. You're stuck like this.
You thought you could get rid of us with a pill? Nice try, sister. Nice try.
The argument that these voices are NOT demonic seems to be getting weaker to me the more I hear them. Then again... what do I know? I tried to whole exorcism thing before, and here I sit... still. *sigh* This is normally where I would go looking for some chocolate or something, but I don't do that anymore. Plus, there's no chocolate in the house, and we're beyond broke. I would call a friend, but it seems like every time I do that, they don't return my calls lately, so... I think I had better call the Crisis Line after I put my daughter to bed. I have got to get her to bed... I can't take all the caregiving right now. She's so loving lately, though. Bless her... so many hugs. She's such a sweetheart, even if she is tiring. That's what kids' jobs are. To be cute, and exhausting. I just wish I had someone to help me with her. Someone to help me with anything. I feel so alone. Panic is setting in, I think I have to stop writing. Goodnight everyone.
~S~
Absence Makes The Heart Grow Faint Life has been slamming along at an alarming rate. Before I really knew what was happening, I was in the new house, staring at rooms full of boxes, and pacing. Visions of Brownie Batter Blizzards and Chocolate Cake and Turtles Chocolate Bars were dancing... no, MOSHING, through my head, and I was following them on the train to Crazytown. I was manic. I was in a panic. I then crashed.
Some unpacking, a psychiatric appointment and several med changes later, I am feeling calmer. The house is mostly organized, there is very little left to open up and find, we have a washer and dryer set up and they're working, and everyone is enjoying the new house much better than the last one. My daughter has found neighborhood friends and is looking forward to starting over in a new school. I like living near parks and orchards and things that grow rather than concrete. My husband likes the space, especially half a basement for his home office where no one can bug him. When my step-sons arrive here next week I'm sure they will enjoy the "Boy Zone" we have created for them downstairs, complete with Star Wars posters and XBox games.
Are there problems here? Sure. Our car completely dying, coupled with my hours at work being severely cut back means we are hurting financially. Not to mention we live farther from the city without a working car which is a giant pain in the ass. One of my friends is going to Canadian Idol, and while I am SO VERY happy for her, I am also insanely jealous, since I would love to have that oppurtunity, but am considered too old by industry standards (which I think is totally ridiculous). Another friend is pregnant, unplanned and seperated.... again, insanely jealous(of the pregnancy, not the other stuff!), since as many as you know, my only child is a total MIRACLE, and I would give anything to have another child... well, another daughter, anyway. *smile and sad sigh* And yet...
Hope springs eternal. I feel better. I feel more... sane. Stable. Capable. In control. Loving. I feel like I can do this. Like life isn't going to kick my ass today. It may leave a bruise, but I'm fighting back! For My LovePain
Confusion
I cling to you
I push you away
I want to run
I want to stay
Crying
Screaming
My heart is cold
My chest is on fire
I want to get out
I want to climb higher
Scissors
Blood
I hate myself
I feel my head drop
I want to hurt
I want it to stop
Caged
Inside
Freedom is death
Or so it seems today
I want to love
I want not to betray
Touch
Words
You are gentle
You kiss my tears
I want your heart
I want to stay with you for years. Sunrise on Disappointment I have been feeling quite puffy lately, so I decided to get up VERY early this morning, go to the gym and visit my old nemisis, the scale. Well, that was a shocker. A year and a half ago I started out weighing nearly 270 pounds. I managed to get myself down to 241 with alot of restraint and exercise. It slowly started creeping up on me again about 4 months ago, and last I checked, I was hovering at 248; up, but still below the dreaded 250. Today I was 257. FRIK, FRIK, FRIK!!!! I worked out and tried not to let it get me down too much. Usually I would spiral into a huge depression and probably binge my face off... hmmm.... not too smart.
But when I got out of the gym, there to greet me was one of the most beautiful sunrises I have seen in a long time. It was breathtaking. It reminded me that I was not alone, and there was still hope. I've lost the weight before; surely I can lose it again. It reminded me that today is a new day. Today is a day full of happy family time; a trip to my Mother's house and time with my old but adorable Grandma. Time to take a breath, and relax. Time to escape the daily grind of cooking and cleaning and caring for 5 people. Time to just.... BREATHE. Everyone once in awhile, I need that. And hopefully some of the disappointment I feel in myself will disolve away like the pink lining on the sunrise-kissed clouds. Christmas Miracles Several things have happened in the last few days that I consider miracles. With only one of them, I might have over-looked them, but with a few in a row, I'm starting to take notice that maybe the Big Guy Upstairs is trying to tell me something. Last week at church we saw a short movie that had the voice of God the Father saying "Just let Me love you, because I am here; Emmanuel." It made me weep. Let Him love me? I'm so used to running... what would that look like? Well, what it's looked like this week is ....
~ extra hours at work, which means a bigger pay cheque in a few weeks.
~ the Food Bank accepting our application for a full family without the proper papers and providing us with a huge hamper of food, including 3 bags of cereal (choosen at random by the people there); Reese Puffs (my favourite), Shredded Wheat (my husband's favourite), and Lucky Charms (my daughter's favourite). Coincidence? I think not.
~ a beautiful friend and her family making us a Christmas Hamper, complete with HUGE turkey, 5 loaves of bread, cans of food, pastas, baking supplies, an extra $25 gift certificate for more groceries, and lots more. AMAZING. I'm very grateful.
~ my husband won a $50 gift certificate for a great restaurant in town, and we will be childless Boxing Day, which means we can go on a date for the first time in months.
~ a beautiful couple just slapped $80 in my hand today and told me to do something fun with the family for Christmas, when I mentioned we didn't have any toys or gifts this year.
~ my daughter wants to be a singer, and is getting her first chance to perform at the Christmas Eve service at church. She will be singing Away in a Manger, complete with a full band. I am excited for her, and also terrified. She's been calmer lately, but she's still so sensitive, if she screws up, I'm afraid she will give up. We're praying she will do well, though. Her practice with the worship leader went well today, and she will go through it with the band in the morning. She will be singing for about 600 people. Not bad for a 7 year old!
~ our cell phone company agreed not to cut off our phone over the holidays, as planned, and will wait one more week for their payment.
~ new landlord agreed to hold the house for us until February 1st with only $100 as a deposit. Wow.
~ my husband's work FINALLY paid us back the money for his glasses that had to be replaced two months ago; that was $425 we couldn't afford to spend, and it will be good to have it back.
~ and last, but CERTAINLY not least, perhaps one of the biggest Christmas Miracles of all, my husband voluntarily did some dishes this week. I nearly fainted. Thanks, Baby. You de shiznit.
With all these wonderful blessings, you would think I would be a happy, well-adjusted person lately. I feel even more broken, however, because it seems that negative things effect me severely (driving me to huge depths of depression and cycles of self-abuse), but positive things effect me only slightly (in terms of raising my moods). This frightens me because I am always fighting the fear that I am one inch from Crazyville, and when I am unable to experience happiness on a normal level, I feel muted and it leads to frustration and further self-hate. I am trying to remain positive, and just take one day at a time, and be thankful for all the good things going on lately, but it is an effort. I am willing to fight for my sanity, though. I mean, what's the alternative?? Bladder/Kidney Infection #2, Husbands When You're Sick, and a New House Earlier this year (I think it was January or February) I had a bladder and kidney infection that landed me in the hospital for 4 days, taking antibiotics and Morphine through an IV, cuz the oral pills they were giving me wouldn't stay down. Now I have it again, and am trying my best to keep those bloody pills in my stomach, though all I want to do for about 2 hours after taking them is puke my brains out. This is where being bulimic for so many years has come back to bite me in the ass... one of the times, anyway... my gag reflex as been used so often that I can spontaneously make myself throw up... sadly, that also means when I feel the least bit nauseated, it's all I can do not to ralph. And, wouldn't you know it? With this med, you can't take antacids, so... here I sit, with two large knives in my kidneys, slowly rotating, sick to my stomach, tired, sore all over, having panic attacks and trying to cope with appoinments, therapy, and just every day life, when all I want to do is curl up into a little ball, chew about 28 Tylenol, hug my teddy and zonk out until this whole thing if over. But that's not an option, because....
Do any of you wives have this problem? You're sick, you're wanting to just curl up and die, but you have kids to feed, errands to run, bills to pay, things to do... and your husband doesn't really want to help? I mean, he does the basics, drives the kids to school so you don't have to, but he does it begrudgingly, all the while complaining about how it's HIS day off, and he doesn't have any time for HIM, and why does HE have to do it all, etc, etc? It seems nearly every time I get sick, it's just too bad for me. If I have a Mental Health Crisis, he's right there, holding my hand, telling me I"ll be okay, that we'll work through this together, we're a team, etc. But if my back goes out, or I get sick some other way? Forget it. I don't know what the hell the differance is, but I am becoming VERY upset about it, and it is causing me severe anxiety. I walk a very thin line between black and white thinking. I try to fight it as best I can, but my whole life, my thought process towards others has been.... I love you, I love you, I love you... until you hurt me, then I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, and I'm OUTTA HERE!... until I don't want to be alone, then I love you again. I hate it about me, and I used to think it was a HUGE defect in my character, until I started reading books on BPD, and realized nearly all Borderlines struggle with those thought patterns.
So, right now, in the midst of being sick, and having major stress about moving, and my daughter... when my husband is crabby with me, and can't be bothered to wash a dish when I'm literally withering in pain in my bed... I start to think... and it's not good stuff. I'm fighting it, but right now I want to run away and never look back. Either that, or hit him over the head with something large and hard. Either works for me.
We get possession of a new place to live on February 1st. It's a three floor townhouse that will accomodate our blended family. We will have an extra large room in the basement for my step-son's bedroom, so they will finally have their own space, and my daughter will have a room to herself again. It's a decent price, and in a nice area of town. The only down-side is that it's built by the same company that built the low-income housing I lived in for years, and where most of the crap I went through that lead to a breakdown, happened. Walking into that house was like some severe deja vu, and not in a good way. My husband keep telling me we will make it our own, and I understand his point, but on the other hand, I can't help the way I feel... and I'm worried that once we get a dining room table in there, all I will be able to see is my attacker and handcuffs.... FRIK. The carpet is the same, the cupboards are the same, the layout is the same... everything. I'm trying to be positive about it, but it's hard. I can't worry about it now, though. Right now, I just have to concentrate on getting better, both physically and mentally. One day at a time. Severe Anxiety My anxiety has reached a breaking point. Panic attacks are happening not only daily, but nearly hourly. The line between reality and not is being majorly blurred. I'm rocking back and forth almost continuely, making small moaning noises, blanking out while I drive... I constantly feel as though I am losing my mind, or will at any moment.
My pyschiatrist is unavilable until the second week in January. I saw my family doctor today, and for the first time, felt as though he was laughing at me. "Everyone feels stressed when they're going through the kinds of things you're going through..." comments like that are not helpful. He prescribed some Ativan to help calm me, but I am unable to afford it because I've been basically unable to work more than 4 or 5 hours a week (even that causes major anxiety). My brother has offered to pay for the meds for me, and that embarresses me.
Yesterday my daughter was suspended from school again, and has been knocked back to only mornings at school, making me responsible for picking her up at 11:10am every day. This now makes it impossible for me to work, because no one will take care of her after school, unless my husband is not working. I fear I will lose my job over this. I am also worried about my DBT therapy, as I specifically picked the group that met while my daughter was in school, and now that is no longer the case. Both the DBT therapists were sick this week, so it's been post-poned until next week. Hopefully I will be able to figure something out by then.
I want to run away. I feel like I am a burden others shouldn't have to carry, and that I am just unable to carry the burdens of others, as well. I feel very lost and hopeless. My heart has been thumping in my chest since I got home from the doctor's office. I want to binge, but there is nothing here. I purged for the first time in months last night. I feel like crap... Overwhelmed My thoughts circulate like a shake in a blender. Whiiir.... whiiiiir... I can't seem to stop them. I've lost the off button. I either don't want to eat, or never want to stop. My stomach hurts. My head is pounding. My heart is bleeding. Quickly, these are some of the things circulating.
~ My daughter is getting worse. She is now on medication and not only is it not working, but it seems to be making her even more violent. I'm losing my baby.
~ My husband is on his last rope, and there's nothing I can do to help. I try to hold him, and keep my anguish to myself as much as possible. He's got so much on his plate. I just want to run away so he has one less thing to worry about.
~ I'm still worried I will not be able to handle the DBT starting in a little over a week.
~ I've been planning a Girl's Night Out at my house in six days, and I have no idea how many women are coming. It seems everyone is busy, and I've put alot of work into this night. I'm trying not to take it personally, but I think it's ultra rude when people don't return phone calls and let you know if they're coming to your party.
~ My work has taken me down to one shift a week, and I'm making no money to help with the millions of bills we have.
~ I don't know if we have enough food to make it through the week.
~ I'm having nightmares every night and I'm totally exhausted.
~ A good friend is moving 8 hours away, and I am very sad about that.
For those of you out there with BPD, or a loved one with it, there is a new site I've found that has really helped me feel a bit less alone.
I am, of course, the Princess Shiray listed there. Feel free to stop by.
*new addition, later that day* ~ We've now recieved our two month eviction notice. I have put my heart and soul into this house, and now I have until February 1st to find a new home for us. I hate renting and being at the mercy of the landlords and their whims. He sold the house; we're out. And there's nearly a foot of snow on the ground, -15 degrees outside. Not nice house-hunting weather. I want to curl up in a little ball and cry and cry and cry. How much more can I handle? My chest is aching... the panic is coming. I don't want to move!!! I love my house. My daughter doesn't respond well to moves, either. This is the last thing we need right now as a family. Did I mention that since we've moved here, the prices for rentals has nearly doubled?! How are we supposed to afford another house? Good heavens... I can't believe this is happening. I just can't beleve it... BPD Diagnosis, Therapy, Work and Other Stuff Last Tuesday I was formally diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder by my psychiatrist, and my Luvox was increased from 100mg to 150mg. I have had a migraine ever since, sadly. I am sort of relieved to have a diagnosis, so that I can recieve some help, and for the simple peace of knowing what is wrong. I've felt all my life that there was something fundamentally wrong with me, and now I know why. For that reason, I am grateful for the label. On the other hand, I don't WANT to have BPD. No one WANTS to have a mental illness, never mind such a serious one. This is way beyond simple depression. Way beyond an eating disorder. Way beyond anger management. It's everything. And frankly, I'm terrified of it. I'm terrified of trying to beat it. But I need to. Which brings us to therapy.
Dialectical Behavioural Therapy ~ "The techniques used in DBT are extensive and varied, addressing essentially every aspect of therapy and they are underpinned by a dialectical philosophy that recommends a balanced, flexible and systemic approach to the work of therapy. Techniques for achieving change are balanced by techniques of acceptance, problem solving is surrounded by validation, confrontation is balanced by understanding. The patient is helped to understand her problem behaviours and then deal with situations more effectively. She is taught the necessary skills to enable her to do so and helped to deal with any problems that she may have in applying them in her natural environment. The method is supported by empirical evidence which suggests that it is successful in reducing self-injury and time spent in psychiatric in-patient treatment."
I will be doing... Core mindfulness skills. Interpersonal effectiveness skills. Emotion modulation skills. Distress tolerance skills.
STAGE 1 focuses on suicidal behaviours, therapy interfering behaviours and behaviours that interfere with the quality of life, together with developing the necessary skills to resolve these problems.
STAGE 2 deals with post-traumatic stress related problems (PTSD)
STAGE 3 focuses on self-esteem and individual treatment goals.
I start December 6th at a treatment facility in town. I go once a week for 3 hours, in a group therapy envirnoment. Again, I am relieved to finally be learning these skills, and also terrified. Basically, I'm terrified I will fail miserably, or I won't have the strength to do it, and there is just no hope for me. But I'm going to go, and I'm going to try my hardest. I have also ordered a book my psychiatrist suggested: Borderline Personality Disorder Demystified. I should get it next week, and I will start that as well.
Work is getting increasingly difficult. One of my co-worker's husband had a heart attack, so she was unable to work this week, which left me doing her shifts, and back up to 16 hours this week, doubling my hours. 16 hours may not seem like much, and indeed I used to be working 30+ hours a few months ago, but right now it's all I can do to get out of bed. In fact, this morning I went to work without brushing my hair... I didn't mean to, I just forgot. My hatred of the mirror and my reflection is being amplified by having to see myself dozens of times a day in the mirrors at work. I seem to be getting uglier by the day, and hate seeing myself. I am glad to be off of the selling floor and stuck in the back room unpacking the new stock tomorrow. No mirrors, and no sales target. Just me, the clothes, and hangers. My kind of day.
The increase in medication has caused a constant headache and drowsiness. It has calmed the suicidal thoughts down a bit, but I am still finding it hard to focus and deal with daily life. Just getting out of bed in the morning, getting my daughter's lunch ready, helping her get dressed, making her breakfast, sometimes driving my husband to work along with my daughter to school, and getting back home or to work is exhausting. Some days I could come back home and sleep the day away, if given the chance. I just feel... worn out. On edge. I've been letting my husband take the car to work when I can and staying home. No coffee with friends, no walks. Just work, and therapy. Oh, and dance practice, which is getting very hard to go to. With the amount of panic attacks I'm having, my chest cavity feels tight, and it's difficult to breathe. I am also getting more out of shape, seeing as all I want to do is lay around, so practicing new dances is tiring and confusing. I just don't feel like I have the mental focus to remember the steps, and the increase in meds makes me dizzy when I do turns. But I am battling through it, and will attend the performance we have this weekend, though I don't "FEEL" like doing it.
But that's the problem, isn't it? My feelings. Not being able to regulate them. Living ruled by them. There's a section of a paper I wanted to share, where I got the information about the therapy I will be doing in a few weeks which describes where this comes from in a woman with BPD, which I thought sounded eerily familiar. If you know me, you will recognize these thoughts, patterns and behaviours. I hope to change that soon. I have been told that if I stick to the therapy and it's practices, I will see relief from my symptoms in six months to two years.
If you wish to see the research paper in it's entirety, it is located at www.priory.com/dbt.htm Again, as before, I have bolded the areas that I particularily identify with.
"The child's personal communications are not accepted as an accurate indication of her true feelings and it is implied that, if they were accurate, then such feelings would not be a valid response to circumstances. Furthermore, an Invalidating Environment is characterised by a tendency to place a high value on self-control and self-reliance. Possible difficulties in these areas are not acknowledged and it is implied that problem solving should be easy given proper motivation. Any failure on the part of the child to perform to the expected standard is therefore ascribed to lack of motivation or some other negative characteristic of her character.
She will neither have the opportunity accurately to label and understand her feelings nor will she learn to trust her own responses to events. Neither is she helped to cope with situations that she may find difficult or stressful, since such problems are not acknowledged. It may be expected then that she will look to other people for indications of how she should be feeling and to solve her problems for her. However, it is in the nature of such an environment that the demands that she is allowed to make on others will tend to be severely restricted. The child's behaviour may then oscillate between opposite poles of emotional inhibition in an attempt to gain acceptance and extreme displays of emotion in order to have her feelings acknowledged. Erratic response to this pattern of behaviour by those in the environment may then create a situation of intermittent reinforcement resulting in the behaviour pattern becoming persistent.
Linehan groups the features of BPD in a particular way, describing the patients as showing dysregulation in the sphere of emotions, relationships, behaviour, cognition and the sense of self. She suggests that, as a consequence of the situation that has been described, they show six typical patterns of behaviour, the term 'behaviour' referring to emotional, cognitive and autonomic activity as well as external behaviour in the narrow sense.
Firstly, they show evidence of 'emotional vulnerability' as already described. They are aware of their difficulty coping with stress and may blame others for having unrealistic expectations and making unreasonable demands.
On the other hand they have internalised the characteristics of the Invalidating Environment and tend to show 'self-invalidation'. They invalidate their own responses and have unrealistic goals and expectations, feeling ashamed and angry with themselves when they experience difficulty or fail to achieve their goals.
These two features constitute the first pair of so-called 'dialectical dilemmas', the patient's position tending to swing between the opposing poles since each extreme is experienced as being distressing.
Next, they tend to experience frequent traumatic environmental events, in part related to their own dysfunctional lifestyle and exacerbated by their extreme emotional reactions with delayed return to baseline. This results in what Linehan refers to as a pattern of 'unrelenting crisis', one crisis following another before the previous one has been resolved. On the other hand, because of their difficulties with emotion modulation, they are unable to face, and therefore tend to inhibit, negative affect and particularly feelings associated with loss or grief. This 'inhibited grieving' and the 'unrelenting crisis' constitute the second 'dialectical dilemma'.
The opposite poles of the final dilemma are referred to as 'active passivity' and 'apparent competence'. Patients with BPD are active in finding other people who will solve their problems for them but are passive in relation to solving their own problems. On the other hand, they have learned to give the impression of being competent in response to the Invalidating Environment. In some situations they may indeed be competent but their skills do not generalise across different situations and are dependent on the mood state of the moment. This extreme mood dependency is seen as being a typical feature of patients with BPD.
A pattern of self-mutilation tends to develop as a means of coping with the intense and painful feelings experienced by these patients and suicide attempts may be seen as an expression of the fact that life is at times simply does not seem worth living. These behaviours in particular tend to result in frequent episodes of admission to psychiatric hospitals. Dialectical Behaviour Therapy, which will now be described, focuses specifically on this pattern of problem behaviours and in particular, the parasuicidal behaviour."
That's it for now, folks. I'm still here, still fighting. Glad to know what's wrong, and determined to kick the crap out of it. As always, your comments are welcome. Thanks for being there. ~S~
Halloween, Unjust Words, and Baby Lotion Happy Halloween, everyone. I made it through in one piece. So did the kidlet. She was a beautiful tiger, and she roared/purred at every house and was pricelessly adorable. I wanted to smother her in kisses but I would have rubbed off the makeup. Of course, I will post a pic as soon as it's dowloaded and editted, as always.
She was much more hyper this year, and much harder to focus. I had to tell her several times not to touch different things like people's decorations or cars, etc. It occured to me tonight that she's started touching alot more things lately, even things she knows she's not supposed to, and it's almost like she's in a trance when she does it. I've heard of some people with OCD having to knock on every piece of wood they see three times, or having to touch every door frame they go under, things like that. I'm becoming worried that something like this is happening to my baby girl, and another ritual is being piled on to her already busy mind.
It was a fun night, but after all the "Sit stills!" while I did her face makeup, and the "Don't touch that!"s, and the "Be careful! Stop running!"s... I'm glad, it's another year before I have to do that again!
There is a sweet little girl at my daughter's school, every day after school, and before. She is the little sister of a girl who used to be in my daughter's classroom last year. She used to brighten my day with her hugs and smiles and funny conversations that only a 3 or 4 year old can have with you. She was a joy.
I noticed last week that she wasn't talking to me as much... in fact, I wasn't getting any hugs, or even a smile out of her. Finally this afternoon, I found out why, and it's REALLY pissed me off. She was playing with a ball around me, and I asked her if she wanted to play pass, and this is how it went...
Her: "No, I will go find someone else to play with."
Me: "Why? Why can't you play with me?"
Her: "Because Keegan is bad." (my daughter)
Me: "Why is she bad?"
Her: "I don't know, that's just what my Mommy said, so I'm not allowed to talk to her, or you. Bye!"
And away she went.
Now, if this little girl and her older sister, who was purposely put in another classroom than my daughter because of both of their bad behaviours, were some kind of saints or something, and my kid was a bad influence on them, I might understand this. But this kid in the other class, I'll call her "Sally", was so horrendous in school that she had to be seperated from all the other "difficult" children so my daughter's teacher wouldn't be overwhelmed. (There is my daughter and a boy with ADHD in her class.) "Sally" has a disgusting potty mouth, screams at the top of her lungs almost continually, and likes to show off her privacy parts! I had her over to our house once last year for a play date and I told Keegan she was never coming over again! She was a complete troll! Now her mother has the ordacity to call MY kid "bad"??! Don't get me wrong, I don't care if my daughter doesn't get to play with "Sally", in fact, I would prefer she didn't, but what does this have to do with me playing ball with "Sally"'s little sister, who is actually sweet and gentle? Several times I wanted to walk over to her mother and ask her what the heck was going on, but I chickened out... one, because I was very angry and was afraid I might say or do something stupid, and two, because I hate getting into arguments with people and avoid it at all costs.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to stomp. I wanted my daughter to be different, or the world to be more understanding. I wanted... justice. I don't know what I wanted. Just... something more. Something different. *I* wanted to be different, too. Maybe if I was different, she would be, too. And we would both be happier. My poor angel.
After we got the makeup washed off, it was into the bath to soak away the cold weather. Minus one degree celsius.... craziness. After the bubbles were gone and the toys were put away, and she was dry, I noticed her skin was looking dry and bumpy again, so I pulled out the lotion. It's the same lotion I used when she was born. It's almost empty. It's probably the third bottle of it.... at least, I hope it's not literally the same bottle as when she was born, since that was 7 and 1/2 years ago, but... the smell.... wow. As I rubbed it on her back I was whisked away to simpler times, when all she did was eat, sleep, and poop. When she wanted to sleep on my stomach. When she smiled at me with no haunting sadness in her eyes. I smelt the scent of pure, innocent love between a mother and her child and it made me weep. My darling, precious, beautiful Miracle. How I love you. xoxoxo ~Mommy~ Memory Lane and Unknown People Today was a walk down memory lane, in a good and a bad sense. First, my daughter went out for a few hours with her father (my exhusband), and I had to coach her on how to talk to him, and assert her boundaries, because she wanted time with just the two of them. It reminded me of being a little girl and being in the psychiatrist's office, at 6 years old, practicing with him on a plastic Fisher Price phone, trying to get up the nerve to tell him I didn't want to come visit him. I wish I could remember why I felt that way. I don't remember very much from my childhood before the age of 13, but I remember that red phone very well. It was one of the hardest things I did as a child, and seeing my baby go through it this morning was heart breaking. Thankfully, we prayed together, and Jesus heard and answered her prayer; the talk went well, and they had a good time.
On good memory lane, seeing as how it's almost Haloween, the cartoons reflected the season this morning, and I got to sit and watch the old classics I watched as a kid and a teenager, like Ghostbusters and Beetlejuice (my personal fave).
Tonight I've been invited to a party in the basement suite downstairs, where I will only know one person (the tenant) and I don't know her very well. I was able to invite a friend, but no one can come. So I am having to brave it alone. I used to be able to go to places where I didn't know anyone, but lately it has started causing panic attacks. I'm trying to remain calm and go with a positive attitude. One of the things I'm woried about is that there will be food there (since it's a Watkins party), and I have a tendancy to binge when I'm nervous, which I hate doing infront of anyone, but especially strangers. Hopefully if I eat before I go, I'll be able to control myself. But as the scale has been showing, I haven't been doing so well in that area lately.
I used to be an extrovert. I used to love parties, and meeting new people. Now I hate it. I wish I could take my husband with me, but he's at work, and it's supposed to be a girl's night out. *groan* I should have told her I couldn't find a babysitter or something. Oh well... what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?? RIGHT??!?
(help!) Sweet Slumber Sleep. All I want to do today is sleep. Oh, and eat. Yes, we can't forget that. I haven't eaten much in the last four days, due to an annoying flu bug that won't leave my stomach alone, but what I have managed to eat hasn't been very healthy. And I don't particularily care. I'm having one of those sad, lazy, the-world-hates-me-so-I-think-I'll-eat-a-pint-of-icecream-but-I-don't-have-icecream-so-I'll-eat-anything-in-sight days. I hate these kind of days, but no matter how hard I try, I can never seem to break free of them. Maybe if it wasn't raining outside and freezing cold, I would consider going for a walk to clear my head. But not today. No way. Too wet. Too cold. Too tired.
I feel completely mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted. A friend recently said, when asked why she didn't do something to change a maddening circumstance in her life... "It's like you're dying, like literally DYING, and people are saying 'Run a marathon! You can do it!'... NO, actually, I can't!" .... *sigh* I feel that way. SO MUCH. I love my husband, and I love my kid, and I like my job and I love my family and my friends, but some days I just feel like I'm dying... slowly, crippling, internally dying and I hear the voices..."Take care of your daughter! Love your husband! Clean the house! Faster! Unpack those last boxes! Make dinner! Visit your old Grandma! Go to work! Work harder! Ignore the pain! Smile, and LIKE IT!"
Maybe it's my own voice I hear. I don't know. I just know I want it to shut the hell up. I can't do it all. I don't want to do it all. It's not fair that I have to do it all. Just.... shut..... up....
And how do we shut it up? Sleep. And pray we don't dream. So, here, at 7:15pm, I am going to sleep. To shut up the voices... and maybe, get some freaking peace. |
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