I have been taking this medicine for about two months now. I no longer cry uncontrollably, I can usually drag myself out of bed most days, and sometimes I even have a smile on my face. I am still dirt tired because the sleep aide medicine hasn't reached a dose that works yet. But here is the most beautiful thing... I got a schedule change at work!
I have been bidding on a different schedule for about a year and a half. I really wanted to have the weekends off but child care meant I couldn't work the late shift. So this month around I just bid on anything and everything. Toby is at the school at my work so I could take on any shift. I was so burnt out that it was either give me a new schedule or I'd be taking a leave of absence (in a cute white coat!)
So while I was out for Toby's surgery (and some much needed mental break time), I finally got a new schedule. Sure it means working 10 hour days for Monday-Wednesday (and this is the AWE-SOME! part) but I get off EVERY Thursday and Friday. I have to work every Saturday but in ONE WEEK of having this schedule, I feel sooooo much better! I can still take Toby to school on my days off so I can actually vacuum the floors or wash my sheets. And if I want to do nothing at all but take a nap, well I can!
So there is my little burst of energy... my little splash of relief. Let's see if it keeps getting better!
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
family ties
There has been something stuck in my craw as of late. Normally on a subject such as this I would keep my mouth shut, suck it up, let it fester... whatever... this is my space for my thoughts and I guess if you don't like it, don't read it.
Family is strange. Different families function so differently and I have a hard time often understanding exactly how it is that mine works. For years I have spent time thinking that all the flaws in my world were my fault. And while I still don't know if that is true or not, I am beginning to see a little error in my thought process.
I see families every day. There are some that are not mine that I have been blessed and priviledged to be a part of for many years. And there are some that once I spend time in their presence, I walk away and shake my head and just be thankful for what I've got. M- has a family that spends their holidays, weekends, birthdays, and vacations together. When I was part of this family I felt like I knew what was missing from my world. A- has a family that you feel like you HAVE TO attend things. Thay have no problem laying on a thick layer of guilt and actually will call you out in front of people for not going to the annual teeth scraping of their great aunt Melba if they feel you should.
Then there is my family. My mom is in my world daily. Sometimes I wish that was less but then I look at what I would have if I changed that equation and it actually scares me. One of my brothers comes to visit once a year. It is like an annual visit to have a colon cleanse. In other words, if it came down to being infected with malaria or making this visit, he might actually lean on the side of the malaria. My other brother is married with 3 kids. He comes down every once in a while and every blue moon I have a safe enough vehicle and money in the bank to visit them.
But then I look at his family on his wife's side. They are there in good times, bad times, you have a birthday and they show up in mass... driving across states (as in MULTIPLE!) to get to you. You have a child and you have a guaranteed helper for at least a week. I mean these people genuinely LOVE each other. They share vacations and live near each other and don't ever have to worry if someone has got their back because every day they are told how much they are loved.
And I catch myself wondering, where did I get the end of the stick that means I go through three surgeries with my son, two years of being a single parent, a divorce, a major bout of depression and I feel like if I ever call to talk that I am either just going to get voice mail or a bunch of grunts. And when I get more encouragement from my brother's mother in law than most of my actual family, I really wonder wheer I went all wrong.
Family is strange. Different families function so differently and I have a hard time often understanding exactly how it is that mine works. For years I have spent time thinking that all the flaws in my world were my fault. And while I still don't know if that is true or not, I am beginning to see a little error in my thought process.
I see families every day. There are some that are not mine that I have been blessed and priviledged to be a part of for many years. And there are some that once I spend time in their presence, I walk away and shake my head and just be thankful for what I've got. M- has a family that spends their holidays, weekends, birthdays, and vacations together. When I was part of this family I felt like I knew what was missing from my world. A- has a family that you feel like you HAVE TO attend things. Thay have no problem laying on a thick layer of guilt and actually will call you out in front of people for not going to the annual teeth scraping of their great aunt Melba if they feel you should.
Then there is my family. My mom is in my world daily. Sometimes I wish that was less but then I look at what I would have if I changed that equation and it actually scares me. One of my brothers comes to visit once a year. It is like an annual visit to have a colon cleanse. In other words, if it came down to being infected with malaria or making this visit, he might actually lean on the side of the malaria. My other brother is married with 3 kids. He comes down every once in a while and every blue moon I have a safe enough vehicle and money in the bank to visit them.
But then I look at his family on his wife's side. They are there in good times, bad times, you have a birthday and they show up in mass... driving across states (as in MULTIPLE!) to get to you. You have a child and you have a guaranteed helper for at least a week. I mean these people genuinely LOVE each other. They share vacations and live near each other and don't ever have to worry if someone has got their back because every day they are told how much they are loved.
And I catch myself wondering, where did I get the end of the stick that means I go through three surgeries with my son, two years of being a single parent, a divorce, a major bout of depression and I feel like if I ever call to talk that I am either just going to get voice mail or a bunch of grunts. And when I get more encouragement from my brother's mother in law than most of my actual family, I really wonder wheer I went all wrong.
Monday, March 8, 2010
happy birthday... i guess
It was my 34th birthday today. I spent the day feeling a whole lot under the weather... mostly physically but emotionally as well. My son made me cry with his incredible need to be the only person in the room you talk to so when I was finally unloading some of my work anxiety and he was talking louder and louder and louder, all I could do was start crying. Unfortunately two hours later I am still crying. FYI - if you are seriously congested, crying is an incredibly bad idea!
Don't get me wrong. My birthday was great. Very cool and unique presents. Tons of well wishers on Facebook. It's just sometimes the aloneness is crushing. I love Toby beyond measure but lately he has been getting on my very last frayed and ragged nerve. He runs around talking in some psycho language like those damn blue people in Avatar, ignores every single command I give him, acts like he is deaf and blatantly ignores me telling him to do things. So after almost 3 years of being his mommy, I am at a total loss other than going back to spanking all the time - which I had let up on some. Spare the rod, get yourself a migraine headache!
Depression is a nasty friend. It is like that one girl that you so desperately wanted to be friends with in middle or high school. She was the cool kid and everyone was her friend. But looking back now 15 years after the fact, she was just a really mean bitch! She danced around you finding your weak spots and poking her fake nails into them, just enough to hurt, maybe draw a little blood. She criticized you just enough that you really thought she wanted to be your friend if only you would or could have bigger boobs or skinnier jeans or curlier hair. She laughed at you behind your back, maybe had some stupid things she would see if she could get you to do in your desperation to be part of the inner circle.
Now I'm not saying I want to be friends with depression. I'm saying that it is hard to walk away from. For every up in life, there are 20 crushing downs. For every small victory over one of your struggles, there are hundreds of things hidden in that locked box just waiting to come out. The other day I went to a MOPS meeting at FBCTT. I've been invited to this every month for about 2 years by a friend of mine. This month something crawled into me and I was determined to go. Every month Toby gets sick or I get a migraine or I am just so bone tired. This month Toby was already sick, I was already coming down with something and nothing was stopping me.
So I go to this meeting and an old friend of mine was going to be the speaker. And I was in no way prepared for the words that came out of her mouth. She told a story of sexual abuse that she had repressed for years, that came to the surface almost 10 years ago and she has been seeking healing from ever since. I am not an idiot and I know that this message was meant for me. While there was no sexual abuse that I have repressed (at least I hope not cause boy this would suck way worse when it's done if there was), there are years of emotional, physical and mental abuse. Some have been locked away behind little doors in my box and others I allow to sit on the surface to remind me not to go that path again. Maybe that meeting unlocked something but I have been hit with that bone crushing sadness again ever since. I am using this week to screw my head on straight. I will be using some unpaid time in the wake of Toby's surgery to try to find just a little bit of peace, enough to get back into the saddle and try again next week.
Don't get me wrong. My birthday was great. Very cool and unique presents. Tons of well wishers on Facebook. It's just sometimes the aloneness is crushing. I love Toby beyond measure but lately he has been getting on my very last frayed and ragged nerve. He runs around talking in some psycho language like those damn blue people in Avatar, ignores every single command I give him, acts like he is deaf and blatantly ignores me telling him to do things. So after almost 3 years of being his mommy, I am at a total loss other than going back to spanking all the time - which I had let up on some. Spare the rod, get yourself a migraine headache!
Depression is a nasty friend. It is like that one girl that you so desperately wanted to be friends with in middle or high school. She was the cool kid and everyone was her friend. But looking back now 15 years after the fact, she was just a really mean bitch! She danced around you finding your weak spots and poking her fake nails into them, just enough to hurt, maybe draw a little blood. She criticized you just enough that you really thought she wanted to be your friend if only you would or could have bigger boobs or skinnier jeans or curlier hair. She laughed at you behind your back, maybe had some stupid things she would see if she could get you to do in your desperation to be part of the inner circle.
Now I'm not saying I want to be friends with depression. I'm saying that it is hard to walk away from. For every up in life, there are 20 crushing downs. For every small victory over one of your struggles, there are hundreds of things hidden in that locked box just waiting to come out. The other day I went to a MOPS meeting at FBCTT. I've been invited to this every month for about 2 years by a friend of mine. This month something crawled into me and I was determined to go. Every month Toby gets sick or I get a migraine or I am just so bone tired. This month Toby was already sick, I was already coming down with something and nothing was stopping me.
So I go to this meeting and an old friend of mine was going to be the speaker. And I was in no way prepared for the words that came out of her mouth. She told a story of sexual abuse that she had repressed for years, that came to the surface almost 10 years ago and she has been seeking healing from ever since. I am not an idiot and I know that this message was meant for me. While there was no sexual abuse that I have repressed (at least I hope not cause boy this would suck way worse when it's done if there was), there are years of emotional, physical and mental abuse. Some have been locked away behind little doors in my box and others I allow to sit on the surface to remind me not to go that path again. Maybe that meeting unlocked something but I have been hit with that bone crushing sadness again ever since. I am using this week to screw my head on straight. I will be using some unpaid time in the wake of Toby's surgery to try to find just a little bit of peace, enough to get back into the saddle and try again next week.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
so that's what it feels like
Today I sucked it up and went to the psychiatrist... mostly because I couldn't find a legit way to get my meds and only partially because I am interested in feeling better. I'd say it's a 98/2 split in favor of no jail time or exorbitant black market prices. So, Dr B. is a pretty friendly and sort of portly person. Trust me, when you are laying your soul bare, you so don't want to do it to some model type person. She went over some of my history with depression and my family tendancies to be addicted to pretty much anything and everything under the sun.
Then comes the gritty part. I told my mom it's like keeping all of your crap in a box with a nice tight lid and then all of the sudden someone comes along and makes you open the box and show them what is inside. So we looked at the alcohol and drug abuse, the harming thoughts I had toward my child toward the end of my pregnancy, the abuse of my marriage, DCF, how lucky I am to not have Toby taken away from me at birth... oh, the list goes on and on. And I just sat there and pulled the ugliest things out of my box, one right after another. And surprisingly enough, I didn't cry. Maybe after so my garbage piles up you find a numbness of sorts. All I know is that apparently I should have sought counselling like 482 times before in the past.
Dr B seems a little uncertain of how to diagnose me... or maybe she just wants me back there to really hear the good stuff. She feels that I might have a form of bipolar which isn't bipolar at all but it is kind of like seasonal allergies... the depression gets way worse in the fall/winter. She also thinks I have PTSD. Something I have always reserved for men and women who have gone to war and been shot at for days and months on end has now been attached to me. Yeah, she's probably right but it's a little hard to wrap my mind around right now.
The lack of sleeping, the panic attacks in my sleep, the total and complete exhaustion I feel... all going to be treated with a little dose of Trazadone. I laughed a little at this one, mostly cause when they Baker Acted Mike, they gave him a dose of this so strong it would fell a horse. That was the week that I got slammed into walls, my thumb disconnected, spit on, shoved into a door and had my foot almost run over by the car. Pardon me for being a little leary of that one... I took it to CVS. Let's see how long it takes me to suck it up and pick it up. I know that it was probably just the devil in him and that it won't have that effect on me because I am not that person... but still....
All I know is I am glad to have some days off next week. I might totally be bucking the system, but I think I need the break!!!
Then comes the gritty part. I told my mom it's like keeping all of your crap in a box with a nice tight lid and then all of the sudden someone comes along and makes you open the box and show them what is inside. So we looked at the alcohol and drug abuse, the harming thoughts I had toward my child toward the end of my pregnancy, the abuse of my marriage, DCF, how lucky I am to not have Toby taken away from me at birth... oh, the list goes on and on. And I just sat there and pulled the ugliest things out of my box, one right after another. And surprisingly enough, I didn't cry. Maybe after so my garbage piles up you find a numbness of sorts. All I know is that apparently I should have sought counselling like 482 times before in the past.
Dr B seems a little uncertain of how to diagnose me... or maybe she just wants me back there to really hear the good stuff. She feels that I might have a form of bipolar which isn't bipolar at all but it is kind of like seasonal allergies... the depression gets way worse in the fall/winter. She also thinks I have PTSD. Something I have always reserved for men and women who have gone to war and been shot at for days and months on end has now been attached to me. Yeah, she's probably right but it's a little hard to wrap my mind around right now.
The lack of sleeping, the panic attacks in my sleep, the total and complete exhaustion I feel... all going to be treated with a little dose of Trazadone. I laughed a little at this one, mostly cause when they Baker Acted Mike, they gave him a dose of this so strong it would fell a horse. That was the week that I got slammed into walls, my thumb disconnected, spit on, shoved into a door and had my foot almost run over by the car. Pardon me for being a little leary of that one... I took it to CVS. Let's see how long it takes me to suck it up and pick it up. I know that it was probably just the devil in him and that it won't have that effect on me because I am not that person... but still....
All I know is I am glad to have some days off next week. I might totally be bucking the system, but I think I need the break!!!
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Here lies George...
Yesterday would have been my daddy's 81st birthday. On that same token, Tuesday marks the 11 year anniversary of his death. Kind of sureal... celebrating your birthday one day and then three days later mourning your passing. And everytime I think about it, I realize, my family history is almost gone. I don't have any living grandparents and only one parent. My son will spend most of his life walking in those same shoes. He has both parents and sets of grandparents but only one half of the equation is functional.
Usually I don't think a lot about my dad. A lot of times when I do think of him it's because Toby has done something that so reminds me of his weird sense of humor, or when I marvel at how much my dad would have liked him and how very much Toby would have loved and adored him. But then every year these two days roll along. And those days I think about when he was dead and I was staring at him lying on the bed with the 911 operator in my ear telling me to do CPR and my refusal to do it... because he was so obviously gone... but also because his dentures weren't in and I knew you have to get a good seal to do it successfully. Then right after that I remember my aunt and I planning a great way to cash in on the accidental death clause that had changed on his 70th birthday, just three days before... throw him down the steps and then it looks like he fell down when he had the heart attack. And I remember my mom calling us sick and morbid.
Then I remember all those years later when I was living in Melvin's grandma's house and I had just gotten home and I had a breakdown in my car in the driveway, just crying and keening for over an hour. I never had taken the time to cry before then. All I know was I heard this Reba song and the next thing I knew, the tears were just flowing. If anyone had ever seen me that night they probably would have thought I had gone totally insane.
I remember the silly things like the stinky stained pillow he laid his head on every night while he watched the news, loudly. The way he sat in the chair staring down between his feet, the vericose veins on his legs and his hammer toes. The government pens and the ugly VA plastic glasses. But I mostly just remember that he was my daddy and he's gone. And I miss him... a whole lot today
Usually I don't think a lot about my dad. A lot of times when I do think of him it's because Toby has done something that so reminds me of his weird sense of humor, or when I marvel at how much my dad would have liked him and how very much Toby would have loved and adored him. But then every year these two days roll along. And those days I think about when he was dead and I was staring at him lying on the bed with the 911 operator in my ear telling me to do CPR and my refusal to do it... because he was so obviously gone... but also because his dentures weren't in and I knew you have to get a good seal to do it successfully. Then right after that I remember my aunt and I planning a great way to cash in on the accidental death clause that had changed on his 70th birthday, just three days before... throw him down the steps and then it looks like he fell down when he had the heart attack. And I remember my mom calling us sick and morbid.
Then I remember all those years later when I was living in Melvin's grandma's house and I had just gotten home and I had a breakdown in my car in the driveway, just crying and keening for over an hour. I never had taken the time to cry before then. All I know was I heard this Reba song and the next thing I knew, the tears were just flowing. If anyone had ever seen me that night they probably would have thought I had gone totally insane.
I remember the silly things like the stinky stained pillow he laid his head on every night while he watched the news, loudly. The way he sat in the chair staring down between his feet, the vericose veins on his legs and his hammer toes. The government pens and the ugly VA plastic glasses. But I mostly just remember that he was my daddy and he's gone. And I miss him... a whole lot today
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
hmmmm
Well, I've been on my new medicine for about 3 weeks. Apparently this is one of those that leaves you with that numbish feeling. Don't get me wrong, I am totally stoked that I am not crying at the drop of a hat or wanting to jump of a bridge (and not just for a pleasant wintery swim) but I don't enjoy that part of the medicines that makes you feel numb. I don't like feeling like I have to force laughter, that I have to not cry even if I want to. Every night I look in on my boy and I want to cry. He's so big and grown up and handsome and every day I get this lump in my throat. But the tears don't come.
Toby's father has started emailing me. It's funny cause I feel nothing. Well, to be totally honest I feel like sending him an email back that says "$15000! Then we'll talk" He accuses me of being angry and I laugh. Son, the last thing I am is angry. I have zero caring. I don't care. You are a worm who took a few years of my life but left me with an awesome gift. So thanks for your sperm, have a nice life.
Toby has to have surgery again. Tubes times two. Well, there goes my fantastic birthday vacation I've been planning for months. The doc only does surgery on Wednesdays which means it falls plop center in the middle of my 9 days off. Well damn it, I can still do something fun. I'm going to take the punk to Dinosaur World. Might be lame-o but he's two... he still thinks sticks and leaves are awesome good fun. Then post surgery, I'm going to Tally. We'll play tourist. I found a great deal on a hotel so I will still feel like it's a vacation - minus the flattening of the air mattress slowly as I sleep. Bonus will be if I get a room with two beds so I don't have to have a size 12 (yes that's right... his newly bought 11's are too small) foot in my ribcage all night. And I get to see the cousins and David and Heather and maybe if I ply someone with a steak, they'll watch my kid and let me go out for an hour. It's the little things in life that make me happy.
Oh look, my break time is over. Woo hoo. Back to insanity
Toby's father has started emailing me. It's funny cause I feel nothing. Well, to be totally honest I feel like sending him an email back that says "$15000! Then we'll talk" He accuses me of being angry and I laugh. Son, the last thing I am is angry. I have zero caring. I don't care. You are a worm who took a few years of my life but left me with an awesome gift. So thanks for your sperm, have a nice life.
Toby has to have surgery again. Tubes times two. Well, there goes my fantastic birthday vacation I've been planning for months. The doc only does surgery on Wednesdays which means it falls plop center in the middle of my 9 days off. Well damn it, I can still do something fun. I'm going to take the punk to Dinosaur World. Might be lame-o but he's two... he still thinks sticks and leaves are awesome good fun. Then post surgery, I'm going to Tally. We'll play tourist. I found a great deal on a hotel so I will still feel like it's a vacation - minus the flattening of the air mattress slowly as I sleep. Bonus will be if I get a room with two beds so I don't have to have a size 12 (yes that's right... his newly bought 11's are too small) foot in my ribcage all night. And I get to see the cousins and David and Heather and maybe if I ply someone with a steak, they'll watch my kid and let me go out for an hour. It's the little things in life that make me happy.
Oh look, my break time is over. Woo hoo. Back to insanity
Monday, February 1, 2010
Really? Can it ever just be about me?
The title of my post is because something has been bugging me. There are very few people I have any contact with anymore and the ones that I do have a very annoying habit of turning any and every comment into a story about how their life currently sucks. Yeah, I get it. You have problems and issues. But if you would pull your head out of dumping all your issues on me, you might see that I am drowning. Actually, I was drowning PRIOR to you dumping your load on me... your load just made it worse!
When I was getting into my relationship with Mike, I had a couple of very close friends, people who knew all my secrets. Unfortunately what most people don't realize is that abusive relationships have a key linking factor - the abuser HAS to separate his victim from their friends and family. If this requirement is not met, the abusers hold over the victim never reaches that tragic level of complete control. So, I watched my friendships fade... Amy, Cathy, Jen, Greg, Melvin. The people who always had my back got tired of the drama, of me calling them crying about the latest offense. Actually, they were gone before the REAL abuse began.
So once I walked out of my private hell, I was left with only my family. And my family has never been the real listening type. David really tries. He however has three kids, a wife, and a demanding life. Chris has no advice for anyone. And Mom... well, she tends to have the Pollyanna view on life... pretending the problem doesn't exist makes it not exist. So I think I talk to myself which really doesn't help. I need to find an actual counselor to talk to... someone who can help me feel less out of wack. But then I run into the issue of what I do with Toby while I do this.
Life just can't stop throwing curve balls at my head.
When I was getting into my relationship with Mike, I had a couple of very close friends, people who knew all my secrets. Unfortunately what most people don't realize is that abusive relationships have a key linking factor - the abuser HAS to separate his victim from their friends and family. If this requirement is not met, the abusers hold over the victim never reaches that tragic level of complete control. So, I watched my friendships fade... Amy, Cathy, Jen, Greg, Melvin. The people who always had my back got tired of the drama, of me calling them crying about the latest offense. Actually, they were gone before the REAL abuse began.
So once I walked out of my private hell, I was left with only my family. And my family has never been the real listening type. David really tries. He however has three kids, a wife, and a demanding life. Chris has no advice for anyone. And Mom... well, she tends to have the Pollyanna view on life... pretending the problem doesn't exist makes it not exist. So I think I talk to myself which really doesn't help. I need to find an actual counselor to talk to... someone who can help me feel less out of wack. But then I run into the issue of what I do with Toby while I do this.
Life just can't stop throwing curve balls at my head.
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