Ok. Upon reading my blog so far, it really focuses on all the pain and strife I've experienced in the past year or so. And that's kind of the purpose of this site. To work through these things on the bumpy ol' road to healing (or better health, or whatever it is down the road).
But I dont think I'd be able to deal with all of this stuff without humour. Sometimes at the blackest times and on the blackest subjects I've had the most bizarre and funny thoughts. Most times I dont say what's on my mind, but with the right company, I feel free to say it. The weird, black humour is a trait I've inherited from both my parents I think. They both have/had the ability to be a bit weird and creative in their view of the world. They did make a great team in that regard. Its horrendously sad to see that team broken up by death. These same types of thoughts seem to come from nowhere inside of me and come spilling forth. One example last Thursday:
I was at my mom's house and I saw a letter addressed to my deceased father (it sounds weird to call that house my mom's house when it used to be "my parents' house" and before that "home"). It was a letter stating that he was being called for jury duty. I looked at the letter and said to my mom "don't you think they need to get their records updated? It *is* the provincial government that issues birth and death notices, right?".
We weren't sure, so we proceeded to look through the letter, and noted there were several scenarios that could get one out of jury duty. One of them was having a "medical condition". Another one was a "severe disability". My mom and I got this dumb smirk on our faces and said "oh, Dad would LOOOOOVE this one.. we should TOTALLY toy with this...". I then went on to say "in his memory, I DARE you to call them and say:
"Bah.. Mr. Story is just not going to come. You don't really want him to attend".
.....Wait for a bureaucratic reaction......
Typical reaction expected (snotty tone bureaucrat): "Um.... Um... I"m sorry, this is a mandatory request and he must be there. There are serious penalties for not adhering to this request."
Our response back: "Oh, I dont think they'd be that serious".
Expected reaction: "Yes they are very serious. Mr. Story could be charged with an offence".
Our response: "ok then, there really is a very serious reason that he can't be there".
Expected bureaucratic response: "The situations in which someone is exempt from jury duty are duly outlined in the letter that is attached to to the summons. Please have Mr. Story read this and be aware of these situations".
Our response: "Well we noted that two of these situations include a serious medical condition, or a serious disability, right?"
Expected bureaucratic response (typically getting more angry and condescending as the conversation progresses) "yes, do either one of these situations apply to Mr. Story???"
Our response: "um, Yes. He's got a very bad disability/medical condition. He's been dead since November 2005".
Bureaucratic response: "umm...."
We HOWLED with laughter over that scenario. If you'd known my dad when he was alive, you'd know why that's funny. He loved toying with "rules and protocol" - always trying to look at things outside the box, pulling apart and analyzing incoherent and illogical rigid arguments. I loved that part of him, and its something that I've inherited as well. When posed with something that really doesn't make sense, instead of grumbling or feeling trapped or oppressed, Our minds would spin.... WHY do we have to do this? Can this be changed? Why are we adhering to this rule when its really stupid? Who made this up? What's the history, the context, the rationale? Can't we do something about it? Can't we make this world a better place?
Another thing thats funny about that scenario - those of us who are grieving see weird sides of people and society when it comes to death. Especially the major discomfort that people have when discussing it. People are quick to give you a hug or a word of support in the early days, when someone has just died, but over the long term, they just seem to stop talking about the death, and move on. And they are LOATHE to actually use the term "dead". Its almost shocking to say it out loud, but those of us who are grieving have been encouraged to use it, rather than some of the fluffier euphemisms such as "passed away" or "passed on". We're told that using the real word, DEAD, helps us accept the reality and not pave over the hard cold reality that someone's gone forever. So my mom, brother and I make a point of actually using the real word, no matter the discomfort of others.
We are the ones who have to accept his death the most. We bear the daily pain of missing him, of seeing his empty chair at the table, of seeing his shoes in the closet, of wondering what to do with his books and papers, of putting to rest his lifetime of hopes, dreams, love, pain, failures and successes, and integrating it into our lives so we can move forward without him.
On that note, Dad, thanks for your gifts of humour and idealism. They serve me well every single day. I love you, and I miss you like crazy.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Its definitely fall now...
Ok, not officially, but in this northern land of ours, fall comes early. The high temperatures struggle to reach over 25'c and the nights are downright chilly. I even saw some red tinged maple leaves on the drive home from my annual girls summer cottage weekend.
I'm feeling a lot of weird, strong feelings right now. And for the most part, they're not very pleasant. A lot of significant things have happened in September. In September 1988, I moved out of my parents house - a naiive, anxious 18 year old ready to take on the world (ok that was an exaggeration - I didnt adapt well to living on my own for a long time - now part of me misses it like crazy!!!).
On Sept 11 (2001 no less), my husband and I had our first date. On September 6, 2004, we got engaged. On September 25, 2004, we got married. In September 2005, my postpartum depression hit critical mass and I was almost hospitalized. I also started to distance myself from my father, because our volatile relationship was very emotionally threatening to me at the time. Unfortunately, he died suddenly very shortly thereafter. That's a horrible pain that still haunts me. I think about how I was feeling last year at this time, mired in pain, but had no idea things were going to go from bad to worse (to even worse).
How blind I was to the pain that was right around the corner, to the loss of my father, to the illnesses and pain and surgery I was about to experience, and to the relationship turmoil that was about to get much, much worse as my husband confronted a major demon and prosecuted someone who hurt him very badly.
Returning to work after a year off has also resulted in a lot of changes on that front. I'd love to say things are wonderful and my work environment is as supportive and stimulating as it was several years ago, but I don't like to lie. Its very hard to be a working mother, to have to hold up two major roles in life, when one of them, although rewarding, is very draining by its nature (motherhood) and the other one, leaves a lot to be desired in terms of support.
I can't be drained like this in two major aspects of my life at the same time. I've spent a lot of time and a huge amount of effort digging me out of mental illness after the birth of my daughter and the death of my father, and I'm terrified of going back there. I feel this drain on my soul, my spirit and my energy every day I'm here.
One of my inspirations to start this blog (other than my H and my desire to heal from my current emotional pain) is a new friend of mine, part of a wacky group of girlfriends that I've met in recent years. I think they're a major part of why I have stayed sane during all the pain and upheaval in my life. She's been through a lot of crap the past few years and she's still going.... if she's still going, then so can I. She's got a very inspirational blog that really lit a fire under me to write my own.
Awhile back, on her blog "write soon" she posted:
"I don’t believe that a person can ever lose all hope. They may not realize that they still have the ability within and sometimes, they give up before finding it. But I think we all have within us the ability to hope and the need to trust in it. Sometimes, it takes our loved ones to find it for us.... and sometimes, it takes a whole heck of a lot of messy, terrible, bad things in our lives before we can get quiet enough to hear that ever-glowing whisper within us. But that tiny whisper can build mountains. All we have to do is have faith in it. It will do the rest."
I'm hoping you're right Kimmy, because I'm really, really scared right now.
I'm feeling a lot of weird, strong feelings right now. And for the most part, they're not very pleasant. A lot of significant things have happened in September. In September 1988, I moved out of my parents house - a naiive, anxious 18 year old ready to take on the world (ok that was an exaggeration - I didnt adapt well to living on my own for a long time - now part of me misses it like crazy!!!).
On Sept 11 (2001 no less), my husband and I had our first date. On September 6, 2004, we got engaged. On September 25, 2004, we got married. In September 2005, my postpartum depression hit critical mass and I was almost hospitalized. I also started to distance myself from my father, because our volatile relationship was very emotionally threatening to me at the time. Unfortunately, he died suddenly very shortly thereafter. That's a horrible pain that still haunts me. I think about how I was feeling last year at this time, mired in pain, but had no idea things were going to go from bad to worse (to even worse).
How blind I was to the pain that was right around the corner, to the loss of my father, to the illnesses and pain and surgery I was about to experience, and to the relationship turmoil that was about to get much, much worse as my husband confronted a major demon and prosecuted someone who hurt him very badly.
Returning to work after a year off has also resulted in a lot of changes on that front. I'd love to say things are wonderful and my work environment is as supportive and stimulating as it was several years ago, but I don't like to lie. Its very hard to be a working mother, to have to hold up two major roles in life, when one of them, although rewarding, is very draining by its nature (motherhood) and the other one, leaves a lot to be desired in terms of support.
I can't be drained like this in two major aspects of my life at the same time. I've spent a lot of time and a huge amount of effort digging me out of mental illness after the birth of my daughter and the death of my father, and I'm terrified of going back there. I feel this drain on my soul, my spirit and my energy every day I'm here.
One of my inspirations to start this blog (other than my H and my desire to heal from my current emotional pain) is a new friend of mine, part of a wacky group of girlfriends that I've met in recent years. I think they're a major part of why I have stayed sane during all the pain and upheaval in my life. She's been through a lot of crap the past few years and she's still going.... if she's still going, then so can I. She's got a very inspirational blog that really lit a fire under me to write my own.
Awhile back, on her blog "write soon" she posted:
"I don’t believe that a person can ever lose all hope. They may not realize that they still have the ability within and sometimes, they give up before finding it. But I think we all have within us the ability to hope and the need to trust in it. Sometimes, it takes our loved ones to find it for us.... and sometimes, it takes a whole heck of a lot of messy, terrible, bad things in our lives before we can get quiet enough to hear that ever-glowing whisper within us. But that tiny whisper can build mountains. All we have to do is have faith in it. It will do the rest."
I'm hoping you're right Kimmy, because I'm really, really scared right now.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Feels like fall, and my heart's breaking
This week its gotten quite chilly in comparison to the weather we've had since May. Its been outrageously hot and humid for months and all of a sudden its dry and chilly. Hot in the day indeed but it cools off overnight and the mornings are downright chilly. Sweater weather until noon some days!With the change in the weather, its definitely starting to feel like fall. I usually love fall with all the same intensity of a giddy schoolgirl, but this year, I'm not looking forward to it.
Last year at this time I was entering the hardest period of my life. And I've had hard times before. But this year was a doozy.
Hard times gone by include those years when my dad was really ill, or in a really bad addiction phase, or even the year I broke up with my first boyfriend and moved back in with my parents, was an unemployed university graduate and suffered my first depressive episode. But this year marks the 1 year anniversary of two really difficult experiences.
First - I had a baby girl last summer. She's now the love and joy of my life, but last year marked such a difficult transition to motherhood. I had a very very difficult and traumatic birth experience, one that left me exhausted and freaked out with PTSD. It was so hard to get up and care for the baby with all the pain and exhaustion and anxiety I was feeling. I pushed myself so far over the limits of what I or any human could probably handle, and suffered a serious breakdown as a result. Breastfeeding wasn't going well, so I decided to pump and bottle feed, which was like feedign twins (I had to wake myself up when the baby was sleeping to pump). That, combined with the stress and strain of being a new parent, and the extreme sleep deprivation, I suffered with depression, anxiety, obsessive thinking, serious delusions and extreme insomnia for months. I had to come to terms with a lot of pain that I'd brought with me from my past, major insecurities and blows to my confidence. It took a lot of work to get through that. I also had some major health issues that weren't helping much. I had a very resistant kidney infection, strep throat, many colds, three cases of the stomach 'flu, and even a series of extremely painful gallstone attacks that required surgery in January 2006.
Just as I was starting to think that maybe things would be okay psychologically, I got the terrible news of my dad's death. That experience just knocked me back, further back than I think I had been even before the baby.
Now that the weather is turning a bit colder, I'm starting to remember the pain of late last summer and early fall. I do feel much happier this year, much more healthy, much more healed, but I know this fall is going to be painful. I had an anxiety attack in the middle of my soccer game yesterday thinking about it. Remembering all the difficult times last fall, how depressed I was (I really thought about suicide a lot) and the fact that my dad is still gone and how much has happened that he's not been a part of over the past year.
I'm not sure how to manage it, if I should just go with the feeilngs, let them come and hit me wherever and whenever, or if I should try to talk myself through it - to tell myself that these are just anniversary anxieties, and to tell myself to look at how far I've come and that I should feel proud of myself for all that I've accomplished.
I'm not sure the best approach. I have to feel these feelings, not stuff them inside, otherwise the repressed anxiety will no doubt do funny things to me. But I am not looking forward to the feelings of helplessness that come when something totally unexpected and really painful happens to you.
Its funny - as humans we are creatures that have highly developed brains and emotions. We think we have developed some "mastery" over our environment and our world. We have developed highly complex systems and institutions that help to keep us sane and develop a feeling of safety. Yet despite all of our trappings, we still live in a world where we still cannot control major life altering experiences and painful changes. Its like we delude ourselves into a false sense of security that's really not there at all.
Are we really doing ourselves a favour by pretending we have some control over all of this, when really we have no control over much at all?
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Missing Pieces and Midnight Visits
My brother and mom are in the air right now, flying back from a trip out west. I wish I could have gone with them, but I'm here, with "responsibilities" (a daughter). I hope my mom found the trip helpful and healing, as its the first time she's travelled out there since my dad died in November 2005. I lost my dad nine months ago, and I'm so afraid of losing my mom now. I guess its normal to be that way after you suddenly, shockingly lose one parent in the prime of their life (late prime, but still prime nonetheless).
I wonder what my mom's going to do with her life now, almost at retirement, no kids at home and no husband... what will she spend her time doing? What will she find rewarding to fill that hole that my dad left in her life, in all of our lives? How will all of our lives change after his passing?
Me, well I'm still shaking. Literally. I'm like a child taking her first steps, or someone teetering on a balance beam for the first time. I feel so lost, and wobbly. My dad had such a huge presence, a loud booming voice, he was anything but subtle and quiet. I feel like the edges of the hole he left in our lives is softening just a bit, the pain is not all consuming and raw all the time, but the giant hole is still there, and the pain is still very much just under the surface.
I had a dream about my dad the other night. My mom and brother were staying in my house, and they had just had a "run in" with my dad. See, my dad was a good guy at heart, but he had a lot of hangups - issues with addictions, anxiety, depression that were never treated well. A lot of it was the product of his times - there wasn't much for depressed men to do in the 1970's except self-medicate with alcohol, so thats what he did. He lost his parents young, and I'm sure that left a giant hole in his heart. I now know what it feels like to be a young person grieving a parent.
My dad had a difficult relationship with his father and his siblings that he never really seemed to resolve. He didnt have any higher education, in fact, I think he was a high school dropout, and he just had to get along by the seat of his pants. Which was difficult for him, but he did quite well actually. He was truly the smartest person I know - intelligence anyhow, sometimes he was not so smart when it came to relating to others, and to himself.
I really believe my dad and I had some kind of psychic connection. Something deep and dark and ancient and Celtic. I always knew when something was wrong with him, even before someone told me. The night he died I was up all night, feeling really cold, and I even went to sit in Abby's room and just sit there. I was sitting up at 3 am, shivering, feeling all kinds of weird rushes in my body and soul. I feel like he was just an extension of my soul, the other side of a coin. I stubbed my toe and his foot hurt, he had a headache and I took an aspirin, that kind of thing. We had the same silly rashes and allergies, the same sort of itchy feet and funny skin. We also are the only ones in the family to share dark dark hair and dark dark eyes. Even my own daughter is a caramel-blonde blue-eyed girl. When my dad was self-destructing six years ago, I instinctively knew something was wrong just from the fact that he didnt call me back one night. He always called me back. The next day I didnt hear from him and I hopped in my car and drove an hour to see if he was okay, only to have to take him to the hospital. He wasn't all right, and I knew it.
Anyhow in my dream, my dad was going through one of his self destructive episodes, where he was ranting and raving and freaking out and taking all kinds of substances. My mom and brother were really freaked, saying they didnt want him back alive bad enough for him to put them through that stuff again.
I panicked, and I ran out of my house and went to my parents place (in my dream of course) and picked him up in my car, and we drove to this forested, happy looking place. There were small, moving organisms running around us, in a playground type setting. I'm pretty sure it symbolized playing with Abby at a playground, but all the kids were these funny kinds of cartoon blocks, but they were playing and running just like kids. My dad was getting a kick out of all the action. He watched Abby slide down a slide and he was so impressed.
I've had similar dreams before when people I know have died. They generally follow a pattern - first the person is in the dream, they're back and we're talking together. Then they start to "cut out" - they're here and then they disappear, then they're back and gone again. The next series of dreams they are further away from me, walking far away, on the horizon, across a field, just out of contact. Then the dreams shift to those of us left behind, we're sitting and talking about the deceased person, but the person's no longer there.
My first dreams about my dad when he first passed away was him sitting with us, looking really sheepish and apologizing all over the place for dying and putting us through such pain. He's looking down at the table and feeling really bad. The next series of dreams, he's walking among us, but I'm saying to him "you know you're dead, right" and he says "Oh, yeah thats right" and then he disappears. Or we're spending time in a usual, family way (hanging out, watching TV, driving somewhere) and he's there, then he's not and he "cuts in and out" like an intermittent tv signal. I've not had any dreams at all lately though, this is the first one I've had in a long time. And this is the first one where I really feel like I'm communicating with him still.
I know that some people will say that this is just my subconscious, working out the loss. Maybe it is. But I'm grateful for the dreams that I have, because I really believe that its him, talking to me from the next life, travelling to see me on our spiritual, psychic connection. When I wake up from a dream like this, I really feel good and I really feel like I've actually seen him and spent time with him.
I hope he and I we can spend some time together some night soon. Come over sometime Doots, I miss you. I've got so much to tell you and so much to ask you.
I wonder what my mom's going to do with her life now, almost at retirement, no kids at home and no husband... what will she spend her time doing? What will she find rewarding to fill that hole that my dad left in her life, in all of our lives? How will all of our lives change after his passing?
Me, well I'm still shaking. Literally. I'm like a child taking her first steps, or someone teetering on a balance beam for the first time. I feel so lost, and wobbly. My dad had such a huge presence, a loud booming voice, he was anything but subtle and quiet. I feel like the edges of the hole he left in our lives is softening just a bit, the pain is not all consuming and raw all the time, but the giant hole is still there, and the pain is still very much just under the surface.
I had a dream about my dad the other night. My mom and brother were staying in my house, and they had just had a "run in" with my dad. See, my dad was a good guy at heart, but he had a lot of hangups - issues with addictions, anxiety, depression that were never treated well. A lot of it was the product of his times - there wasn't much for depressed men to do in the 1970's except self-medicate with alcohol, so thats what he did. He lost his parents young, and I'm sure that left a giant hole in his heart. I now know what it feels like to be a young person grieving a parent.
My dad had a difficult relationship with his father and his siblings that he never really seemed to resolve. He didnt have any higher education, in fact, I think he was a high school dropout, and he just had to get along by the seat of his pants. Which was difficult for him, but he did quite well actually. He was truly the smartest person I know - intelligence anyhow, sometimes he was not so smart when it came to relating to others, and to himself.
I really believe my dad and I had some kind of psychic connection. Something deep and dark and ancient and Celtic. I always knew when something was wrong with him, even before someone told me. The night he died I was up all night, feeling really cold, and I even went to sit in Abby's room and just sit there. I was sitting up at 3 am, shivering, feeling all kinds of weird rushes in my body and soul. I feel like he was just an extension of my soul, the other side of a coin. I stubbed my toe and his foot hurt, he had a headache and I took an aspirin, that kind of thing. We had the same silly rashes and allergies, the same sort of itchy feet and funny skin. We also are the only ones in the family to share dark dark hair and dark dark eyes. Even my own daughter is a caramel-blonde blue-eyed girl. When my dad was self-destructing six years ago, I instinctively knew something was wrong just from the fact that he didnt call me back one night. He always called me back. The next day I didnt hear from him and I hopped in my car and drove an hour to see if he was okay, only to have to take him to the hospital. He wasn't all right, and I knew it.
Anyhow in my dream, my dad was going through one of his self destructive episodes, where he was ranting and raving and freaking out and taking all kinds of substances. My mom and brother were really freaked, saying they didnt want him back alive bad enough for him to put them through that stuff again.
I panicked, and I ran out of my house and went to my parents place (in my dream of course) and picked him up in my car, and we drove to this forested, happy looking place. There were small, moving organisms running around us, in a playground type setting. I'm pretty sure it symbolized playing with Abby at a playground, but all the kids were these funny kinds of cartoon blocks, but they were playing and running just like kids. My dad was getting a kick out of all the action. He watched Abby slide down a slide and he was so impressed.
I've had similar dreams before when people I know have died. They generally follow a pattern - first the person is in the dream, they're back and we're talking together. Then they start to "cut out" - they're here and then they disappear, then they're back and gone again. The next series of dreams they are further away from me, walking far away, on the horizon, across a field, just out of contact. Then the dreams shift to those of us left behind, we're sitting and talking about the deceased person, but the person's no longer there.
My first dreams about my dad when he first passed away was him sitting with us, looking really sheepish and apologizing all over the place for dying and putting us through such pain. He's looking down at the table and feeling really bad. The next series of dreams, he's walking among us, but I'm saying to him "you know you're dead, right" and he says "Oh, yeah thats right" and then he disappears. Or we're spending time in a usual, family way (hanging out, watching TV, driving somewhere) and he's there, then he's not and he "cuts in and out" like an intermittent tv signal. I've not had any dreams at all lately though, this is the first one I've had in a long time. And this is the first one where I really feel like I'm communicating with him still.
I know that some people will say that this is just my subconscious, working out the loss. Maybe it is. But I'm grateful for the dreams that I have, because I really believe that its him, talking to me from the next life, travelling to see me on our spiritual, psychic connection. When I wake up from a dream like this, I really feel good and I really feel like I've actually seen him and spent time with him.
I hope he and I we can spend some time together some night soon. Come over sometime Doots, I miss you. I've got so much to tell you and so much to ask you.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Best intentions
My mind and my family exists to spite me. I'm sure. I've not caught up on my sleep since last Friday, and I've been trying to go to bed earlier, only to toss and turn and wake up exhausted. I even played soccer last night against my better judgement (heel pain still bad) so I could really exhaust myself, and wound up with a migraine instead that kept me up until at least 2am. How's that for justice?
So I was tossing and turning until 2am, and I got up and sent an email into my office to say I'd not be in today. I also left three notes for my husband to NOT wake me up (I was sleeping in the spare room downstairs) and he goes down and wakes me up at 6am anyhow. Didnt even check the notes. Now I can't get back to sleep - its not being helped by him yelling at me from upstairs over what to get for lunch, or where the car keys are.
I'm home becuase I"m not feeling well. I need to sleep. But I can't. Either someone wakes me up or keeps me awake (hence my frequent sleeping in the spare room), or my mind is racing about all the things in my life that are uncertain. The sleeplessness twists and contorts things so that I"m even more anxious, and we're off - the house seems worse than I've ever seen it, my relationship with my husband is as bad as I've ever seen it, and my job is the worst thing in the world. Thats what sleep deprivation does to me. Makes everything look so much worse.
Its been such a joy to have had some sleep lately, over a long period of time, but this past 7 days its been a chore to get sleep. Even with the medication, its just not happening.
I may be getting into a tolerance-withdrawal type situation with my medication, I'm not sure. But I'm not going to take any more, and in fact, I'm trying to cut down. I saw what addiction to these drugs did to my dad six years ago, and I'm not going there. Even now I'm not sure how I'm going to get off them without some kind of medically supported (even hospitalized) approach.
And none of this is helping my self confidence any. I didnt ask for the events of the past year (or years) to come along, and I'm really doing the best I can. I'm a good person, a nice person, a smart person, a dedicated, excellent employee, a great wife and mother, but I think that all of this personal crap is making me look really bad. I think I've paid a great personal price, primarily in the confidence and optimism department for all these things that have always been out of my control.
Work is bothering me a great deal at the moment. I think my professional image started to tank when I was pregnant as I didnt have a very good pregnancy. It didnt help that two others in my office were also pregnant at the same time and seemed to manage the demands of pregnancy and the demands of work with flying colours. I wasn't so lucky. I was so tired, and so stressed about previous pains and abuses and losses in my life and it was culminating in a really strained relationship with my parents and husband at that time, that everything became too much. I also had a lot of pregnancy complications, was very tired, and gained a lot of weight, which didnt help me in the mobility department. I was in a lot of pain a lot of the time. So, as a result, I dont think I portrayed a very professional image, and for that I'm very sad, becuase anyone who knew me prior to the pregnancy who could vouch for my skills and commitment and experience has moved on to another position elsewhere, and I have no idea where the group is headed at the current time. Most people there share the same sentiment about feeling lost and excluded, and the enviroment feels more the proverbial "rats deserting a sinking ship" than the collegial, supportive, invigorating environment that it was when I joined the group in 2002. I think I'm going to have to make a change in that part of my life.
None of what happened to me - to us even (my husband and I that is) - that has made our life difficult was our fault. He didnt ask to be victimized as a child, I didn't ask to be born into an abusive, mental-illness-addiction-ridden household. I didnt ask for my dad to be suicidal, I didnt ask for him to be an addict, I didnt ask for him to have a severe anger problem that he took out on his wife and kids, and I certainly didnt ask for my mom to find him suddenly dead on the couch one morning last November.
But here we are. And it happened. And we're doing the best we can. But most of the time, I think all of us stuck in this spiral of pain - my mom, my brother and my husband, we think that we're not good enough, because we compare ourselves to others who seem to be just able to handle so much more. Others I know seem to manage a family of wonderful children, magnificent careers, a giant house thats always being renovated or decorated in the latest styles, two or three beautiful vehicles (always clean of course), going on fantastic vacations, so many things, when we feel we can barely get through the day most days. Even those in my life who are having troubles of their own seem to be shining in one area of their life - doing well on the career front, or taking time off to care for their child or children full time. Right now I feel like a major incompetent overweight nobody who can't do anything well at all.
So I compare myself, and find yet another thing to feel bad about - this time self-imposed. Or maybe my survival instincts that push me to do that. I think I learned not to expect much from myself and my environment in order to just put up with long-term difficult situations. A kind of "learned helplessness" so to speak. Its a shame that survivors learn to survive by putting ourselves down, when in reality, we all deserve a hero-medal just for being here.
And I wonder why I can't sleep at night.
So I was tossing and turning until 2am, and I got up and sent an email into my office to say I'd not be in today. I also left three notes for my husband to NOT wake me up (I was sleeping in the spare room downstairs) and he goes down and wakes me up at 6am anyhow. Didnt even check the notes. Now I can't get back to sleep - its not being helped by him yelling at me from upstairs over what to get for lunch, or where the car keys are.
I'm home becuase I"m not feeling well. I need to sleep. But I can't. Either someone wakes me up or keeps me awake (hence my frequent sleeping in the spare room), or my mind is racing about all the things in my life that are uncertain. The sleeplessness twists and contorts things so that I"m even more anxious, and we're off - the house seems worse than I've ever seen it, my relationship with my husband is as bad as I've ever seen it, and my job is the worst thing in the world. Thats what sleep deprivation does to me. Makes everything look so much worse.
Its been such a joy to have had some sleep lately, over a long period of time, but this past 7 days its been a chore to get sleep. Even with the medication, its just not happening.
I may be getting into a tolerance-withdrawal type situation with my medication, I'm not sure. But I'm not going to take any more, and in fact, I'm trying to cut down. I saw what addiction to these drugs did to my dad six years ago, and I'm not going there. Even now I'm not sure how I'm going to get off them without some kind of medically supported (even hospitalized) approach.
And none of this is helping my self confidence any. I didnt ask for the events of the past year (or years) to come along, and I'm really doing the best I can. I'm a good person, a nice person, a smart person, a dedicated, excellent employee, a great wife and mother, but I think that all of this personal crap is making me look really bad. I think I've paid a great personal price, primarily in the confidence and optimism department for all these things that have always been out of my control.
Work is bothering me a great deal at the moment. I think my professional image started to tank when I was pregnant as I didnt have a very good pregnancy. It didnt help that two others in my office were also pregnant at the same time and seemed to manage the demands of pregnancy and the demands of work with flying colours. I wasn't so lucky. I was so tired, and so stressed about previous pains and abuses and losses in my life and it was culminating in a really strained relationship with my parents and husband at that time, that everything became too much. I also had a lot of pregnancy complications, was very tired, and gained a lot of weight, which didnt help me in the mobility department. I was in a lot of pain a lot of the time. So, as a result, I dont think I portrayed a very professional image, and for that I'm very sad, becuase anyone who knew me prior to the pregnancy who could vouch for my skills and commitment and experience has moved on to another position elsewhere, and I have no idea where the group is headed at the current time. Most people there share the same sentiment about feeling lost and excluded, and the enviroment feels more the proverbial "rats deserting a sinking ship" than the collegial, supportive, invigorating environment that it was when I joined the group in 2002. I think I'm going to have to make a change in that part of my life.
None of what happened to me - to us even (my husband and I that is) - that has made our life difficult was our fault. He didnt ask to be victimized as a child, I didn't ask to be born into an abusive, mental-illness-addiction-ridden household. I didnt ask for my dad to be suicidal, I didnt ask for him to be an addict, I didnt ask for him to have a severe anger problem that he took out on his wife and kids, and I certainly didnt ask for my mom to find him suddenly dead on the couch one morning last November.
But here we are. And it happened. And we're doing the best we can. But most of the time, I think all of us stuck in this spiral of pain - my mom, my brother and my husband, we think that we're not good enough, because we compare ourselves to others who seem to be just able to handle so much more. Others I know seem to manage a family of wonderful children, magnificent careers, a giant house thats always being renovated or decorated in the latest styles, two or three beautiful vehicles (always clean of course), going on fantastic vacations, so many things, when we feel we can barely get through the day most days. Even those in my life who are having troubles of their own seem to be shining in one area of their life - doing well on the career front, or taking time off to care for their child or children full time. Right now I feel like a major incompetent overweight nobody who can't do anything well at all.
So I compare myself, and find yet another thing to feel bad about - this time self-imposed. Or maybe my survival instincts that push me to do that. I think I learned not to expect much from myself and my environment in order to just put up with long-term difficult situations. A kind of "learned helplessness" so to speak. Its a shame that survivors learn to survive by putting ourselves down, when in reality, we all deserve a hero-medal just for being here.
And I wonder why I can't sleep at night.
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