Afraid to Fall

As I was showering this morning I began to have a small anxiety attack. As I am right now. I am thinking about returning to work. I need to figure out how not to start this. I am fretting. I should not be because I have worked really hard to imbue the thought of ‘Do not worry about what you cannot control. Do not think that you can perdict what others are going to say or do. Stop worrying Jay-lyn.’ And I try. I am hoping that writing this out is going to help me.
The same thing happened yesterday. I began thinking, predicting what was going to happen when I return to work. And when I was driving T to M’s for a weekend sleep over. I am not sure really which one caused me more anxiety. Work or the cloverleafs on and off the perimeter.  I do know that I need to stop doing this. I will be fine when I return. I will be able to impose my new reality on the world at large. Maybe that is what it is. I am fearing that I am not going to be strong enough.
Lately there has been a lot of little nudges in the brain about buying wine. I have been able to shut them down. But I fear that when I am out working and dealing with the public that I will fail. That I will end up listening to that voice, rather than the one that says to me:
Jay you are a beautiful strong woman who has her shit together. You no longer need to hide behind alcohol and drugs. You have faced a larger fear than returning to work will be. You have faced what asshole has done to you. You accept that your brain is protecting you and with the withdrawal of the self-medicating it is letting the good memories back. You have come a long way. You wrote a letter and sent it. Content just to have sent it. Nothing more. That was a huge fear. You submitted one of your poems. You are writing again. Jay you do not need to be afraid to return to work. Calm. Breathe. It is okay to accept that there is fear. Your job has really been about 40% of yourself and you are pushing it down to 10%. You will continue to do a good job at whatever job they have you doing. T. Mom. Bro and Family. Your girlfriends. Those are the important things. Being present in your life. Not willing it away. Stop aging T and enjoy him as he is. You are a wonderful woman Jay-lyn Anne and you do not have to be afraid alone any longer.’
I just made myself cry. I am going to print that out and tape it to my bathroom mirror so that I see that every day. That is the voice that is reasonable. That makes sense.  The one that I have to learn is the one who protects me and guides me in the right direction. The scared one, the fear monger is the one that is being ousted. I imagine that if this were a fantasy novel this is the one last stab made by evil to triumph. But good will come to being and grow into the paladins required.
I have saved myself. I need to remember that. And every once in awhile I need to give myself a small pep talk. To reopen my eyes to the woman I am becoming. Not the one who is being sloughed off like the skin of a snake. And that is kinda like the evil concept. Old me, the one who hid rather than face her problems is fading. Leaving behind a raw new me. Who is afraid that she still yet may fall.

Not his Responsibility

I was sitting here late yesterday afternoon when I received a text from the Ex. Not that this is unusual, he has been checking in on me every couple of days. Asking if I am okay, how my week went. Giving me the encouragement that I need to make it through. I don’t deserve him doing this, I was so brutal to him when we first split up, but that is a story for another day. Back to yesterday, this was actually the second text I received from him. The first was to ask if I would take T for nights during his week while he and K3 (I may need to write myself a K list) are working. So wohoooo extra time for me.  The second text was to tell me that T wanted to come home early. (We have switched from Sunday to Sunday to Monday to Monday so the Ex  has an extra full day with T.
I was a little shocked and asked if everything was alright? I was thinking they had had an  argument or fight. Wanting to have a handle of what I was going to be walking into. The Ex reassured me that everything was alright. And than, he said those words that cut me to my very soul. T wants to come home and cheer you up. I immediately fired back that I was okay and T could stay with his dad for the night. No, he was coming home. T was worried about me.
I text the Ex back and tell him that I have told T that he is not responsible for making me happy. That my depression makes me sad sometimes, but I will always come out at the other end of the tunnel. I probably should have said ‘could you please reiterate to T that he is not responsible for making me happy’ but I assumed that the Ex would know my shorthand solely because he is the Ex. Completely unrealistic as he never got my short handed way of speaking when we were married, why would I think that he would get it now? This is not a him fault, but a me fault. I do it to everyone.
When T got home, he introduced me to Mr. Tuna and the Granola Brothers. He drew faces on the tin and the packaging. I laughed. He sat here and talked and talked to me. His friend had phoned Saturday evening, so T called him back to see what was up. His friend, C, wanted him to come over for a bit and hang out. This does not happen often as usually C is not home on weekends. T comes out of his room, it has begun already, hands me my phone and begins to talk again. I asked what was what ? Oh C had wanted him to come over and hang out but T had felt that it was better to stay home with me. He wanted to be home with me.
As much as I reassured him that I was fine and he could go, T was adamant that he was not going anywhere. He was staying glued to my side.
I again stated to him that it was not up to him to make me happy. That that was my responsibility. His was to be my son and have fun with his friends. While I molded him into a decent human being. He completely ignored me and said, ‘Of course it is mom, who else is going to make you happy.’
Is this what I have done to him? I work so hard not to have him feel this way. Even when I am crying I talk to him and explain that there is nothing that he has done. There is nothing that anyone has done. That I have to let the tears work their way through my system. But I guess he notices those small cues that I cannot hide. The ones that give away that I am not 100% myself.
I am feeling guilt. I want T to be a child for as long as possible. To have that innocence (not the same innocence a child of the ’70’s had but the version that exists now) and not be burdened with the cares of adulthood and the outside world. Yes, things are very different and kids grow up unbelievable fast in today’s world, but one thing remains the same, we do not want to thrust our children into adult situations. And yet, it appears that I am doing so.
I have written before how I make a concentrated effort when T is here. Doing the dishes, tidying up (I am still putting off cleaning apartment with the ‘well V isn’t here until tomorrow it is okay to do it tomorrow morning.’ excuse is the one I am using.) I make sure they are done. Bed being made. Little things as we both settle into our weekly routine. He is smarter than the average bear is T, and he catches the small things most would not even spot.
Today, he is not his bouncing self. Not feeling well, tummy hurts and he has a headache, covering the top of his head. I asked him if he was hungry? No definitely not that, he does not want to eat. I asked if he was saying he was sick so that he could stay home with me? No, he really does not feel well. So as I write this, I am debating whether or not to send him to school. Am I caving into and reaffirming to him that I need him if I allow him to stay home, or is he truly not feeling well and I am making a mountain out of a mole hill?
I have until 8:30 a.m. to make my decision. At the moment T is laying on the couch wrapped in his blanket, Thomas draped across his lap. He has no fever but is clammy despite having taken his shower already.
I will debate the pros and cons of keeping him home from school today. And I am going to figure out a way to ensure that my 9 year old son does not feel that he is responsible for my emotional well being.

Worry who me?

I worry a lot……I worry about work I worry about paying bills and most of all I worry about T. I worry I do not do enough I worry that I am not there enough I worry that I am not showing him enough love or time. I worry non-stop that I am failing him as a mom. Will there ever come a time when I can look at my child and say I have given him my all or will I always worry that I could give him so much more. He is my sun and my moon. He is why I get up in the morning and laugh. He is a dream come true and I am lucky to have him……But I shall always worry that I am failing him.

Written by me Oct. 13/16

The above popped up on my FB memories Friday. As I read over it, my heart ached for how vulnerable and scared I was. How as I began to walk the twisted path of my depression, I could not see where I was headed. But this tells me. However, that is not what this blog is about.

I no longer worry that I am going to fail T. I do worry that I let him spend too much time on the computer either watching Youtube or playing his Scrap Mechanic or Minecraft. I worry that I don’t make him read enough but on the other hand I do not want to make him hate reading. I do worry that I don’t talk to him enough although he reassures me all the time that I talk more than enough for both of us.

As a mom, my main job besides loving T is to turn him into a semblance of a productive member of society. Which means laying down some ground rules. Teaching him responsibility. Disabusing him of the notion that he and he alone matters in the world. I try to open his eyes to the differences around him so that he sees people and lives, nothing else.

I have taught him a fair share of my bad habits as well. He is sarcastic. He always has to have the final word. He likes to procrastinate. Whether he realizes it or not, he likes words which is a bonus in my book.  (By the way, the word thing not a bad habit)

Overall, as I look at the young man T is growing into, I am fairly confident that he is going to turn into that productive member of society that I want him to be. There are still going to be some struggles ahead (I mean c’mon, he is a boy about to go into puberty and yeah, how do I handle that one?) so you may want to check back with me in a year or so to see if I am still writing and singing his praises.

 

 

How did I make you cry?

So your friend, your mother, your sister, your brother etc are depressed. And you call them with the best intentions. You are calling to give them support, offer your love and devotion, tell them that they are not alone. And yet at the end of the call when they are sobbing and assuring you it is not your fault, you are stuck wondering what the fuck you did.

You were nice. You said the right words, your mouthed the right platitudes, but in the end, you just do not get it.

Depression is not easily understood. You cannot talk to someone else about it. You cannot ask them for their experience. Because what they have gone through I have not! My loathing and disgust has no bearing on someone else’s. I am angry and no,  I will not benefit from talking to someone because at 44 years old, I already know all the shit that is wrong with me. I know my triggers and I know that my dad was an asshole but that is another story.

I have spoken to therapists and counsellors.  I have gorged my pain and reiterated the loathing. That is no longer the issue here. The issue is my seratonin levels are fucked up. There is something wrong with my brain chemistry. And I am okay with that. What I need to do is suck it up and accept it.

But this post is not really about me. It is for those who are confused because they reached out, they were supportive, they wanted to understand and yet you sobbed, you stammered, you made no sense. And the whole reason behind that is that they were nice to you. It is the niceness that is the killer. For my sake……this might not be for all who live with depression so sound it out first…..do not be nice to me.