Thursday 9/14/23 Therapy

 I had therapy this morning. In fact, I just got home from it. It was a good and productive session, but damn was I emotional. Anger and sadness. Sadness and anger. Lots of both. I don't necessarily know if I want to get into deep details here . . . I guess we'll just see what I write.

I'm still angry at work. I still don't want to go to work. And my anger is getting to the point where I'm going to break something or break down crying. Or both. And it's exhausting. I'm trying so hard to be a happy, positive, functioning adult yet I'm overwhelmed by this anger. I'm so tired of it. Something has to give. I don't know how to process or handle my anger. It's such an uncomfortable feeling and every time I think I'm getting the hang of it I go to work and it resurfaces. What kind of bullshit is that? My anger is directly stemming from work. From people I care for and love leaving, from all the changes going on, from being super busy and understaffed all the time, and from feeling trapped and stagnant in my position. I could apply for the charge nurse position, that would be something different. But then I'd just have a ton more stress and responsibility for a whopping $1 more an hour. Is that what I really want? I can look for a job somewhere else, but it will probably just be same shit, different location (and I'd be starting over). At least where I'm at I know the shit and the people I work with. But I do feel stagnant. Stuck. Bored sometimes with the work I do. Like I need something different and challenging. But what? I've toyed with the idea of going back to school for years, but it scares me. I've always thought I wanted to be a psychiatric nurse practitioner, that this was my calling. But school really scares me. What if I fail? What if I invest tons of time and money and fail? Or, worse, what if I succeed and hate it? Then what do I do?

I have all these thoughts and feelings and more coursing through me right now and I can't seem to figure anything out. I have tunnel vision. I'm confused as to what to do and clouded by my anger. I have homework to do - to talk with Jeremy about all of this and get his opinion on it. Which I will, tonight. Hopefully it will add some clarity. Because right now I'm lost. And it sucks.

In other news, a few nights ago my mom got really drunk and fell. Broke 6 ribs. She was in the hospital for 2 days. I'm supposed to call her today but I really don't feel like it. I don't want to hear the lie she comes up with as to why she fell. It sucks that she fell and is in a ton of pain. I feel awful for that. I feel bad for her. But at the same time I don't. She's never going to learn that it's her alcoholism causing this. That she fell because she was piss drunk. That she's fallen because of it before (4 or 5 times) and that she'll continue to fall and deteriorate because of it. She just doesn't see that and it's frustrating. It's like dealing with a toddler. I don't want to see her hurt but it's kind of like, what is it going to take for her to admit that she has a problem? I don't see how her husband can be okay with this. I don't know. The whole situation is fucked.

Anyway, that's all I feel like writing today. I feel emotionally drained, my dog is gassy and farting up a storm, and I'm tired.

 

Wednesday 8/17/22 Mom

 So I just got off the phone with my mom and to say she annoys me is a huge understatement. She really. Fucking. Annoys me. See, my mom is an alcoholic. Has been one since before I was born. No matter what happens to her, no matter what me or my brother say, she won't stop drinking and denies that she drinks at all (she could be drinking vodka from the bottle and tell you that she doesn't drink and she would believe that lie). I hate talking to her. Especially when she's been drinking. If I do talk to her, I try to do it before 10am because there's a little less chance that she's been drinking yet (yeah - she drinks all day and night). 

I've grown up around this so you'd think I'd be used to it by now, right? Wrong. It's a chronic, insidious type of trauma, one that compounds. Most of the time I'm angry/distraught/annoyed/saddened for awhile and it passes. Sometimes it takes longer. And sometimes I spiral, remembering my childhood. At any rate, it sucks. Big time. So I really try not to talk to her. And, unfortunately, she has no friends. No one she can talk to. Her and her husband fight all the time. Her own mother is succumbing to dementia. So what does that make me? Her therapist and friend. Her confidant. A role I DON'T FUCKING WANT. And a role that it's not fair to put me in. I'm not her fucking therapist but she treats me like one. I told her today that she should go to marriage counseling, that I couldn't help her sort out her marriage. She kept venting to me. And this is while she was sober - you can't even begin to imagine what it's like when she's been drinking. I just don't answer the phone anymore. 

I'm sick of listening to her and dealing with her. I really am. I want to cut her out of my life but I can't. She's my mom and I feel horribly guilty for feeling the way I do. Cutting her out would make me feel even worse. As much as I dislike her, she's still my mom. Even though she's toxic as fuck. So I space out when she talks to me, don't fully listen, turn my attention elsewhere. Because I just can't deal. Every time we talk it's all about her anyway. She rarely asks how I'm doing or how my hubby and son - her grandson - are doing. All she talks about is how horrible her life is and how much her and her husband argue. I don't fucking care. 

And I can't bring up her alcoholism because in her mind she doesn't drink and therefore denies it and gets all offended that I would say such a thing. I can't win. I can't fucking win.

In other news, I'm still horribly depressed. My Lexapro seems to be doing nothing. I wasn't terribly hopeful that it would do anything, but still, come on. Some days I have a hard time pushing through and I end up napping. When I'm asleep at least I don't have to deal with what I'm feeling. It's my only escape. I have no motivation for anything. I have things I need to do, things that I would like to do . . . but no motivation to get anything done. I mindlessly scroll social media or I sleep. That's what I do. And it sucks. 

I have therapy next week with Mike again, and see Dr. Marciniak in 2 weeks. We'll see what's next I guess. 

Tuesday 2/2/21 Bummer, man

 So I am quite bummed out right now. I was supposed to have my magpie tattoo finished today, but alas, it's been pushed back to next week. My tattoo artist said it wasn't quite healed enough for him to finish it today. And that if he tried, it could scar up. Well, I really don't want scarring to ruin my tattoo, so I guess I'm waiting another week. Next Wednesday. In the meantime he said to loofa the shit out of it and apply copious amounts of lotion (I've been doing lotion but not scrubbing it). So yeah, no finished tattoo for me. 

On the bright side, it's 60 degrees here in Colorado today! It's gorgeous out! It's making me long for Spring time, warmer weather, and sun. I may have to sit outside and read a bit. 

And on the darker side, I just got off the phone with my mom, who says she thinks she's going to die soon. Of heart failure. Because her chest hurts where her ribs were broken. One thing that you have to keep in mind is that my mom is an alcoholic. Has been one since before I was born. She denies it to this day, but it's obvious when she's been drinking. Anyway, I talked to her this morning and she was fine. Hadn't been drinking, we had a nice conversation for an hour. But then she calls me up, just a few minutes ago, crying and going on about how she thinks she's going to die and that she's going to get her will in order. Has she heard anything from a doctor? Has she even gone to a doctor? No. Her chest hurts where her  ribs were broken so logically she must be dying. You have to understand that when my mom has been drinking every little thing is the end of the world. The drama never stops. She's dying, she's going to leave her husband, and on and on. It's so frustrating to deal with. And because everything is the "worst pain" or "worst experience" of her life, I don't know what's real or what's the alcohol anymore. Everything is drama. Oy. I don't know what to do. Her alcoholism is the elephant in the room that no one dares talk about. I mean, her husband has to know, right? It's a Jeckle and Hyde type of transformation - I don't know how he couldn't know. Does he just deal with it? Is he truly oblivious? I've never asked him. And my mom would deny it anyway. She could be drinking vodka from the bottle and tell you she doesn't drink. And she believes it, that's the sad part. Denial is a strong and strange thing. 

Well, it was good to get that out. I'll chat with hubs about it when he gets home. I texted my brother about it as well. He said he talked to her earlier today and she seemed okay at first but then started getting all weird and feeling sorry for herself. I don't know. Let's move on.

Last week I shared the pigeon painting I did for a commission. I included this little gem for her too:

Because who doesn't love a fat little pigeon?! This little painting measures 4in X 4in. It's small. And cute. And I hope she likes it. 

Thursday 7/23/20 Therapy and stuff

Hello my little weirdos! How is everyone doing today? I hope you all are doing well :)

It's been about a week and a half since I last wrote and not too much has changed. I'm still feeling pretty dang good. More than good some days (like today). I feel like myself again! Which is AMAZING! I attribute this partly to being on Wellbutrin and mostly Ty Hicks' Mental and Emotional Mastery program that I've been working. This program has opened my eyes to my own toxic habits and is helping me change them permanently. It's the bomb diggity! So yeah, feeling better.

Anyway, I had therapy today and I had a good session. M and I talked about a myriad of topics including my continued good mood, how work is going (great), and, of course, my mom. Ugh. I hate talking about her, but considering I continue to have issues with my relationship with her, I need to continue to talk about her (my mom is an alcoholic, btw, has been since before I was born). I did drop a bomb on M too - I decreased my lithium dose without consulting my psychiatrist. 

Yep. 

I decreased my own medication without talking to my doc first. Might be a stupid move, we'll find out. I've been on my lower dose for 9 days and I don't feel a difference (yet). Why did I do this? Because my tremor (a side effect of lithium) has been getting progressively worse. I didn't want to decrease my dose at the same time I was starting Wellbutrin as two med changes at the same time can be dangerous. And I didn't decrease by much. I usually take 3 tablets a day, I decreased it to 2 (the tablets are 450mg each). We'll see how this plays out. I see Dr. M in September. I'm guessing he won't be pleased. Oh well. 

That's about it. Not much this week. I'm thinking about posting some of my artwork here . . . we'll see.  

4/10/19

So yeah. Sitting here on the couch listening to Guster, who happens to be my favorite band. Trying to lift my mood. I've been down the past several days. Just this overwhelming sense of melancholy. The darkness is calling, whispering in my ear, and I'm trying my best to ignore it. But damn if it's not persistent.

I believe I know the trigger. On of Ayden's rats died. And that was sad in and of itself, but it shattered Ayden. And seeing him so sad, so utterly devastated, broke my heart. I wish I could have taken the pain away from him. I can't, of course. So instead I created my own. This mild depression that won't leave.

And then my mom. I don't really need to say more than that. But, for those who don't know, my mom is an alcoholic, has been one since before I was born, and I have lots of issues with her and my childhood. Well, she decided to try and go behind my back and have me taken off all of my meds. Why? Because her dose of Prilosec was halved by her doctor. So apparently all meds are bad now. Especially mine. All I can do is shake my head and silently mouth "you fucking bitch how dare you."

I've been dealing with a lot the past 5-6 days. No wonder my mood has taken a turn for the worse. I can only hope that with some time it will pick back up. I can't let this become a downward spiral.

Repeat: I can't let this become a downward spiral.

I have therapy next week. Tuesday. I'm hoping I'm doing better by then. Praying I'm doing better by then. Because this little bit of mild depression? No. I can't do it. I can't. And I sure as hell can't get worse.

I'll be better. I will.

2/13/19

Would you look at that, the day before Valentine's day. Isn't that special?

No, not really. It's really not. I never really got Valentine's day, other than it being a commercial holiday. Hubs and I don't celebrate it. Seems a waste of money.

Anyway, my low mood seems to be continuing. It's not bad, it's just . . . noticeable. I'm a little off, a little down, a little empty, a little bit not me. So there's that. And then I spoke to my mom this week. Or should I say I listened to her ramble on about nothing. She had been drinking already (it was 12:30pm when she called) and she was past tipsy but not quite drunk yet. It made me realize something. It made me realize how little I want to have anything to do with her. It made me realize how truly stressed out I get when she even texts me. It made me realize how angry and anxious hearing her voice makes me. It made me realize how futile it is trying to have a relationship with her.

And see, I've been trying to have a relationship with her. But it's just . . . it's not working. I'm really at the point where I can't stand the woman. She embarrasses me, she makes me angry and anxious and uncomfortable. And she's in such strong denial about her drinking that she could be pouring vodka into a glass and drinking it and still deny that she drinks alcohol. To say it's frustrating is a vast understatement.

I've been working on all this in therapy, have read the ACOA books (Adult Children of Alcoholics), been to ACOA meetings . . . I've talked with hubs and my friends about it and gotten advice from them. I don't know what else to do. I'm really at the point where I want to cut off all communication.

I can't, of course, do that because we have a loan through her. So there has to be some form of communication. Which, let's face it, I dread.

I guess this will be the topic of discussion in therapy next week. Joy.

11/5/18

I'm not sure, but maybe, just maybe, this current bout of depression is winding down. I'm hoping this is the case. I'm praying this is the case. Because that would be so amazing. So amazing to feel like myself again. So amazing to not be suicidal all the time. So amazing to have energy and some motivation. So amazing to not feel like crap.

But wait - is it all that amazing?

Surprisingly, the answer is yes and no. No? But . . . that doesn't make sense. How would feeling better not be good? Seriously.

Well, that's not an easy question to answer. And, honestly, I'm not sure the answer is going to make sense.

Let's start with this: I've been ruled by depression and mania (to a much lesser extent) for over 9 years. For over 9 years my life has been complete and total chaos. Severe emotional turmoil is what I know. So being stable, ie not being depressed, is something foreign to me. I don't know how to act. I don't know what to say or do. I don't know who the real me is. This is scary. And there is a sense of loss - loss of the familiar.

Next, there's the attention. I get more attention when I'm in an episode. Which, let's face it, feels good. Especially since when I'm not in an episode I seem to just fade into the background. I'm more or less just there. So having more people check up on me, ask how I'm doing, offer help, and pay attention to me feels nice and I miss that when I'm stable.

If we want to get technical and scientific, we can look at my upbringing. I grew up in an alcoholic home. Life was chaotic and unpredictable. I was always striving to be perfect, always looking for reassurance and praise from wherever I could get it. What does this translate to? I'm intimately familiar with chaos and therefor may subconsciously seek it out - even if I don't want it. Being "normal" is not something I know, and am therefor uncomfortable with it. It's almost as if I want to be depressed or manic, even if I really don't. And seeking out praise and reassurance? That equates to the attention I'm getting from people while in an episode.

Let's look at some recent history. I was depressed from last February through June. I started feeling better the end of June, into July. While I was grateful I was finally feeling better, there was that sense of confusion and loss. I didn't know how to act or what to do with myself. I was just starting to get the hang of it in September when depression starting setting in again. And you know what? There was almost this feeling of relief when I felt those first pangs of darkness. Because I know depression. I know who I am when I'm depressed. And I get to have attention again.

Now lets get real here - how fucked up is that?? Seriously now! How freaking fucked up is all of that? I'm writing this and I just don't get it. Not to mention that I'm ashamed of it. Because it is fucked up. I can't beat myself up over this though, that won't do any good. I need to examine it, accept it, and move on. That's going to be my goal.

Wish me luck.

10/11/18

I was supposed to work today but I was put on call this morning. Or, more accurately, I was put on delayed start. Which I was fine with, honestly, I've been exhausted all week. I took Ayden to school, drank my coffee, and started his sheets in the wash. Then?

Nap time.

I slept for a good hour and a half and woke up groggy. And still extremely irritable. I've been irritable all day. I literally woke up like that. And to make matters worse, my mom wanted to talk. Usually if I could catch her before 4 or 5 I was alright. But now . . . now I need to catch her before 11. Why?

My mom is an alcoholic.

So of course at 12:30 she's been drinking. And not just starting off, either. No, she's at the slurring her words, repeating herself several times level.  And do you know what that does? It intensifies my anger. I tried to stay calm and collected, just listened as she rambled, but underneath I was fuming.  Thankfully, my coworker called me to release me from call so I was able to use that as an excuse to get off the phone with my mom.

Seriously, thank the baby DeJesus because I can't stand that woman when she's been drinking.

So anyway, I had ECT on Monday, and Jer said on Tuesday I seemed to be in my post-ECT high. He says that always happens after I get ECT. Then I level out. I seem to be leveling out now. I feel flat and I have my ridiculous irritability. Which is super annoying.

I had therapy yesterday and my therapist agrees with Jer's assessment. So we'll just have to wait and see what my mood does over the next few days. Did ECT help? Or was it a quick band aid? I have a feeling that it was a quick band aid. I think it helps keep the mania at bay, I think it lessens the depth of my depressions, but if I'm in one, it has yet to make it go away.

I decided to try 6 weeks between ECT appointments again, see how I do. I don't think this current depression was brought on by going 6 weeks - I think the timing is coincidental. But we'll see. Dr. M wasn't too pleased with my choice but he's not the one getting zapped. If I could get treatment out to every 8 weeks, that would be phenomenal. *Fingers crossed* 

1/10/18

Well, I just talked to my mom on the phone and it's like the whole Christmas fiasco never happened. Not that I'm surprised by this. My whole life it's always been cover it up, ignore it, nothing to see here . . .

It was 11:30am and it sounds like she had been drinking. Repeating herself over and over . . . yeah. She had been drinking. And for her wanting to know how I'm doing she sure as hell couldn't shut up about herself. On and on about herself, the same thing over and over. It's frustrating. I have shit I could talk about. Like the coloring book Jeremy and I made that we published ourselves. Like interesting stories about work. Like how I'm really doing. Like how Ayden and Jeremy are doing.

But no. She'd rather talk about herself.

I'm never going to change this. I shouldn't let it bother me but it has completely ruined my focus for the day. I'm trying to get it back.

Deep breaths, in and out.

.

.

.

.

So annoying.

12/28/17

It's 6pm and I'm sitting here wanting to write but not knowing what to write. I'm feeling pretty low right now. I have been the past few days. I know it has to do with the complete disaster that was Christmas.

We celebrated on Christmas eve. Jeremy, Ayden and I, my brother, his wife and son, and my mother in law all went over to my mom's house for brunch and presents. My mom makes this amazing breakfast casserole that we all look forward to every year.

My mom is also an alcoholic.

So, going over to her house you never know if you're going to get drunk mom or sober mom.

We got drunk mom. It was only 11am.

I did my best to ignore her behavior and tried to enjoy myself. We ate, we opened presents, I was anxious and angry but kept it in check. I went upstairs with Jeremy, Ayden, and my brother, Ken. My mom was upstairs too and was acting even more tipsy than before.

"You know what?" my mom asked. "I'm thinking of leaving Bill (her husband)." She crossed her arms and started to get emotional. Ken and I looked at each other. Not again. Not this again. When my mom drinks she gets extremely emotional and does whatever she can to create drama and make herself the victim and center of attention.

"You're not doing this mom, not on Christmas. We don't want to hear it," Ken said. Ken looked at me. "I'm going to the garage to smoke. You wanna come with me?" I don't smoke, but we needed to talk. "Yes. Let's go." We went into the garage and Ken lit up. Moments later our mom came into the garage. So much for us talking in private. My mom lit a cigarette of her own and looked at us. "I'm interrupting something, aren't I?" she asked. Ken and I looked at each other. "Yes," we said. "You are."

"It's just that," my mom sniffled, "I'm thinking of leaving Bill."

"No. We're not doing this not today. You've been drinking and you're emotional and not thinking straight," Ken said.

"I haven't been drinking!" my mom hissed.

"Yes you have," I said. "It's obvious. Ken and I can both tell. Jeremy can tell. You're drunk."

My mom denied it.

We argued back and forth for at least 20 minutes, my brother and I pointing out how we knew she was drunk, pointing out how she had been drinking for as long as we can both remember, pointing out how she's an adult and she can drink if she wants but she has to realize that that means she's going to have a strained and limited relationship with us.

She started crying and said, "You know what? I've been drinking. I drink"

Ken and I were shocked. Never did I think we would get admittance out of her. She apologized and then referred to herself as a horrible mom. Ken and I told her we loved her and she wasn't a bad mom. She's always been there for us, she always helps us out, she's a good mom. We all hugged and she said she wanted to get help, she wanted to see a therapist. Ken and I told her we'd be there for her and would support her.

After a few more minutes we all composed ourselves and went back inside. Shortly after we all went home and things seemed good.

They weren't.

Here are the texts from my mom the next day, Christmas:

"Merry Christmas. Thank you for the wonderful gifts. And . . . for a memory, I am so deeply hurt. I told Bill about the discussion. I told him about my past. Why do you target me? Why? Billy was there for me, just because. Our hope was to give you some way ahead. And you turned on me. Ya know, I have cried nonstop. I told Billy everything. I don't know if you know this, he was with me all morning, helping. He was by my freaking side the entire day. He was so shocked by these allegations, he told me just to walk away. I can't do that. I have to have treatment for extreme low blood sugar. Yeah baby, health not good. It is not from drinking. And ya know what? I don't want to care anymore. I am so hurt, so hurt. And great, gotta call grandma and grandpa. Not to worry. I am so very hurt. But I will always love you. Merry Christmas. Here you go. No alcohol, no weed, no mental drugs. Gonna call Bryan and then my folks. You two are so fast to condemn. Think about it. As hurt as I am I will always love you. And you can talk to Bill. I am always with him. My crushed feelings will pass. There is no greater love than a mother's love for her child."

Yeah. Merry Christmas.She's blatantly taking a stab at Ken and I. No weed (Ken smokes weed to manage his depression and anxiety) and no mental drugs (I'm on 3 medications to manage my bipolar disorder). This was a shock. I was at work and I talked with Ken on the phone for an hour, going over this and our interaction with her the day before. We were both confused and angry.

I'm still confused and angry. I can't stop thinking about it. I'm dreaming about it. I can't sleep because of it. Jeremy is telling me to just ignore it - and I'm trying to - but I can't. I don't know how I should respond. I'm worried. My mom is the one who picks me up from ECT - what if she won't now because of this? What about interactions with her? They're going to be highly awkward and uncomfortable. What about interactions with Bill? He's going to think Ken and I are horrible people. I just don't know what to do.

On top of all of this I'm still having suicidal thoughts. The night before last I had an extremely vivid dream about slitting my wrists (I'm not going into detail here). It completely ruined my mood yesterday. I'm trying to be okay. I'm working out, I'm eating better, I'm painting happy pictures, and I still feel like I'm just barely keeping my head above water. It's like I'm drowning and everyone around me is breathing.

But there's a smile on my face for everyone. It's just another day.