Not as Sane as I Should be

A year and a bit ago when I left my husband I stopped taking all my pills. I felt wonderful. Free. I was on the right path for me.

Today as I laid on the couch writhing with fear, my anxiety breaching the walls that I have erected to keep it out, I wondered if that was a sensible thing to do.

When last I saw my doctor about my depression he warned me that I might need to be on pills forever. I was devastated. Really? Pills forever? I just could not fathom that. Nor did I want to. Depression is a stigma all by itself, depression and medication and everyone who knows covertly looks at you, they take your heartbeat. They listen to how you speak and wonder if you are not a little coo-coo. Been there. Done that. Don’t want to go back. But today, today was the day that I wondered, that I thought about it.

I was off for a total of three days. Three days that I was not in contact with my store. And this morning, I huddled on my couch in fear. I must have fucked up something so huge that when I got to work today I was done. I texted my second begging for reassurance. I received it like .50 minutes before I had to go to work.

I am monitoring my blood pressure. It is high before and after work. Right on the ball at night. I am every where, the reason why I think that I need to start retaking medication is so I can calm down. Thankfully my second totally lives the same life as me. She lives with depression and anxiety. She gets me when I text and say what did I fuck up, did you fix it and is it okay to come into work today?

I know this is all over the place, I know what I have to do. First, I need to restart taking my meds. This will help with my anxiety. If there is a second and third I am not aware of it. Disjointed writing disjointed needs. I must make a dr appt

The Face Depression Wears

So today is Let’s talk about Mental Illness day.

While I appreciate the notion every day is a day to discuss Mental Illness.

I have been diagnosed with depression, anxiety, major depression, ptsd, bi-polar 2 and holy fuck I am just cray cray.

I struggle sometimes daily but I can go months without feeling anything but good.

Than come those days where I sob into my pillow because everyone hates me and despite my talent I am not writing. I struggle with feeling like I am the world’s worst mother. That I am not a good friend, a good girl friend, a good daughter or sister. I writhe with disgust at my inability to not cope without having a drink. I look in the mirror and cannot stand the image that looks back at me. I have my ups and by god I have my downs. I cry and I bitch and I huddle beneath the blankets because there I find comfort. There I find security.

This is the face that depression wears in my life.

How does that make you feel?

So, the week after my car died (cancelled 1-more to follow on that thread) I had my son. It was the coldest week of the season thus far. I had no car. Had to rely on my best friend (forever after known as BFF) to drive both myself and my son to and from work and school. My sitter (also a wicked ass friend will be known as Sitter lol) also drove me to work and son to school. The fact we had to rely on others did not go unnoticed by my son.

Finally get car back when son goes back to his father. No problem. I do require a fuse, bolt on inline battery fuse.  Still waiting for him to either a) order it for me or b) drop off to me so I can go in and order. I do not have radio or clock. My wipers also did not work but that was a fuse issue. (Cancelled 2)

Sooooooooooo……..I pick my son up from the sitter’s on Wednesday December 28th. We are now going to spend the next five days together and I am pumped. Driving along talking about our day when my son drops this bombshell on me: “Mom dad totally didn’t want to fix your car. That is why it took so long.”

Wow. Okay my son is 8. He is trying to instigate. Not even going to answer this.

Deep breath. Deep deep breath.

“Okay. So why are you telling me this? Are you trying to start a fight between your dad and me? Cause it just isn’t worth it dude. Not worth my time, not worth my anger, not worth anything I have.”

“But mom does this not make you angry?”

“I have a question for you. So we had to rely on our friends for a week to get to and from school and work.”

“Yeah we did.”

“And I got sick. Had to have BFF take me to the walk in. You had to wait at school to get picked up.”

“Yeah, so why are you not mad?”

“How do you feel about this? How do you feel about the fact that we had to rely on friends to get us around this week? How do you feel that mom ended up getting sick (totally unrelated but related) and had to stay home?”

“I was kinda mad mom. When I have a shop I will always fix your car first.”

“Baby…..one day you will look back at this and you will understand. You will understand why I left your dad, why I could no longer be there.”

“Mom?”

“Yes baby?”

“Dad’s girlfriend is 21.”

And there was nothing more to say.

This is why I don’t like going back and forth

So despite my writing yesterday that I do my best to not let my son know about my depression, tears, etc when he leaves, I failed. Huge. Melt down about the pants situation. All the sweats (he does not like to wear jeans but his dad persists in buying them) I have purchased since moving out on my own have disappeared. Told my son I was sick and tired of purchasing items and having them disappear into the abyss.

Told him that if he came back next week without his sweats I was done and he would be wearing shorts to school. We have like 4′ of snow on the ground. Our average temperature is -10 to -15 Celsius before the windchill. We will probably drop to like -25 or lower. I am not a perfect mom.

So after I hollered at him, he is in his room with his best friend and I hear him say “This is why I don’t like going back and forth between my mom and my dad.” And my heart dropped.

He has no choices. He is 8. His father and me decide his week to week moves. But clothes, clothes he does have a choice on. He can decide his tee shirts or the style of pants he will wear. And I realize he is stealing his sweats because that is something he has control over. He can choose whether to wear sweats or jeans. And his choice is sweats.

So damn it really it is all my fault. This actually started out as a pity me…..can you believe that he is doing this…..to an epiphany. My son likes his comfort clothes, just like his mom. Really there is no reason for me to get upset.

I know that it is a bitch for him to have to go back and forth. And there are different rules at mom’s house as to the rules at dad’s house. Sooooooo I will let him steal the sweats that he has stolen and I will buy a few to replace them. In larger sizes and than hide them. He is 8. I am lucky if he showers twice a week and changes his clothes every other day. Just going to deal.

 

Hello everyone

So I have to admit that I am not entirely sure what I am doing here. I have a really good friend who is also a writer and she suggested strongly I start a blog. I do not even know what to write about.

I am a simple woman with simple wants and needs. I want to teach my son how to be a strong independent living man. The opposite of my ex.

I work 40+ hours in retail grocery and my god customers are fodder for a lot of my stories. Because who would actually believe that another human  could act like that.

I have a crew of girls at work who I laugh with and who hug me when I cry. They are the ones who help me to keep sane during my daily trials.

My BFF is my next door neighbor and her son is my son’s best friend as well. She is planning to move to the city at the end of June. I refuse to acknowledge this new reality until I absolutely have to. She and me take bathroom breaks at work solely so we can text one another.

And than the is the BF. He has no idea that I am planning on writing a blog. He is sweet and caring. Likes my son and is a dutiful son himself. He is going back home for New Year’s as well which has made me sad.

Oh yeah and there will  discussions about all things adult and immature. Poop, farts, the weirdness of life and the amazing world of sex.

Welcome to my weird little world I hope you will enjoy  read.