so he did it. even though i was trying to heal, trying to get better, promising i loved him, that i would be better soon. i've been on antidepressants for 5 weeks, and he left last week.
he got work in a town 2 hours from where the daughter and i live. and then told me not to come, and that he wanted her to come live with him. i fought it, because i actually do feel better. the meds have helped lift that crushing weight of black and sad, and my doc and i decided to up the dose from my initial one to help lift the grey. so what i'm feeling now is angry. angry with him. the daughter and i are doing so well - there's no stress, although i still get tired. but not with the need to hide and sleep... but the tired that comes from being a working single mom who gets up at 6 every morning, and goes to bed at midnight every night. i live for sleep in saturdays.
i'm angry that he bailed on us just as soon as he got a job. i'm so angry that i will have to beg him for money, to somehow justify my expenses. he opened his own checking account, and won't be able to deposit more than a hundred at a time. gee thanks. because our gas bills are about that every week. so i'm on my own.
we're seeing a counselor, separately, and eventually together. although i don't know. on my angry days, i just want to start over on my own, without him, without the pain of him, without trying to fix us. just getting away from him. because i'm so hurt, and so pissed. which i guess is better than sad and bewildered.
sunday, i felt okay about the separation. but today, thursday? fuck him. he talks to my friends about me, has a lot of shit to say, and then bails. and says i've hurt him too bad, and that he can't do it anymore. i'm not sure what comes next. i'm at my wit's end. gotta find a place to live, a car to drive, a better job, make sure i keep medicaid and food stamps, make sure i get a break on my student loans, buy furniture, and somehow keep a happy face on for the little girl who still adores the man who left me. not her. just me.
fuck. i'm so mad at him, i think it's time i brought this to a close. because it's ratcheting up my stress, and i don't need that today. i've lost 10 pounds this month, and i'm meeting with my personal trainer today to get month two's goals. gotta keep the stress down, because i'm gonna sweat it all out today. feel the burn i guess.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Monday, September 17, 2012
all or nothing
whether or not it's a genuine crisis of faith or not, i've certainly been wrestling with what it means to be a christian struggling with these dark places in my soul.
so i've been having days where it feels like there is no light. nothing to lead me out of thls place. last night we went to a friend's house, dear friends who we have known for a decade. i usually walk through their home, wishing my life looked a little more like theirs. last night i noticed the water stains on their ceiling from a roof leak, the cabinets in the kitchen that their 4 dogs have chewed, and the basement that has flooded twice. in what felt like a major breakthrough, i finally saw their life for what it was. just another life.
and then, course, the bottom dropped out on the way home. i ended up crying the whole hour drive home, wishing we weren't homeless, wishing we weren't falling apart, wishing I wasn't so broken. and in my fear and pain, somewhere, it became an issue of God not seeing or not caring, or maybe just focused on the little things, rather than this issue of being homeless that most daysi feel breaking me. it grinds on my heart, stone against stone, and i am the rock being destroyed in process.i've seen God be faithful in little things. things that seem so inconsequential as to be almost meaningless. and now, as my life is actively, completely falling apart around me, there is nothing. no response, only a tireless press through the dead bodies of my dreams and hopes as they fall like victims of poisoned gas in the trenches of my life. yeah. maybe a little histrionic, but it's where i am.
so getting back to the faith thing. this morning, i felt like i was hit with a two by four in worship today. i felt Him ask 'can I believed? do I care everything or nothing? because there's no middle place. no place where I care for part of you, but not all of you.' needless to say, i was pretty weepy this morning. i can't feel the light on my face, i can't see the breaking of the sun into this well, but somewhere, i am being asked to believe, there is a light.
the worship team mentioned that they had felt there was someone in the congregation struggling with despair and hopelessness, and if that person was here, to please come get prayer. yeah, i was there, and i needed so much prayer. after going down front, a woman - who i know very well, but never knew she was sexually and physically abused as a kid, came down to pray for me, to pray with me. and all i did was cry. she knew the places in my heart that were so broken - the little girl who knows no one will come to rescue her. that her mother is too busy picking up the broken parts of her heart and body, that her father is too busy hurting her little brother, that her little sister is too weak, and too sick to understand. over and over, she said "He is coming to rescue you. you can't see Him yet, but He's coming to rescue you. to heal you." am i to believe it? i don't know. it seems too good to be true.
of course, the day ended with a spectacular fight, and the spouse in tears, and me being bewildered because i don't know what to do. sometimes the numbness is so painful, because i can't respond. i'm stuck. we'll see what tomorrow brings - most of the time, these terrible conversations become background noise in a day or two, and then meaningless in a week, and forgotten in two. and he can't stop remembering.
so i've been having days where it feels like there is no light. nothing to lead me out of thls place. last night we went to a friend's house, dear friends who we have known for a decade. i usually walk through their home, wishing my life looked a little more like theirs. last night i noticed the water stains on their ceiling from a roof leak, the cabinets in the kitchen that their 4 dogs have chewed, and the basement that has flooded twice. in what felt like a major breakthrough, i finally saw their life for what it was. just another life.
and then, course, the bottom dropped out on the way home. i ended up crying the whole hour drive home, wishing we weren't homeless, wishing we weren't falling apart, wishing I wasn't so broken. and in my fear and pain, somewhere, it became an issue of God not seeing or not caring, or maybe just focused on the little things, rather than this issue of being homeless that most daysi feel breaking me. it grinds on my heart, stone against stone, and i am the rock being destroyed in process.i've seen God be faithful in little things. things that seem so inconsequential as to be almost meaningless. and now, as my life is actively, completely falling apart around me, there is nothing. no response, only a tireless press through the dead bodies of my dreams and hopes as they fall like victims of poisoned gas in the trenches of my life. yeah. maybe a little histrionic, but it's where i am.
so getting back to the faith thing. this morning, i felt like i was hit with a two by four in worship today. i felt Him ask 'can I believed? do I care everything or nothing? because there's no middle place. no place where I care for part of you, but not all of you.' needless to say, i was pretty weepy this morning. i can't feel the light on my face, i can't see the breaking of the sun into this well, but somewhere, i am being asked to believe, there is a light.
the worship team mentioned that they had felt there was someone in the congregation struggling with despair and hopelessness, and if that person was here, to please come get prayer. yeah, i was there, and i needed so much prayer. after going down front, a woman - who i know very well, but never knew she was sexually and physically abused as a kid, came down to pray for me, to pray with me. and all i did was cry. she knew the places in my heart that were so broken - the little girl who knows no one will come to rescue her. that her mother is too busy picking up the broken parts of her heart and body, that her father is too busy hurting her little brother, that her little sister is too weak, and too sick to understand. over and over, she said "He is coming to rescue you. you can't see Him yet, but He's coming to rescue you. to heal you." am i to believe it? i don't know. it seems too good to be true.
of course, the day ended with a spectacular fight, and the spouse in tears, and me being bewildered because i don't know what to do. sometimes the numbness is so painful, because i can't respond. i'm stuck. we'll see what tomorrow brings - most of the time, these terrible conversations become background noise in a day or two, and then meaningless in a week, and forgotten in two. and he can't stop remembering.
Friday, September 7, 2012
opening some windows
i went to see an intake counselor at our county's behavioral health clinic... and i really am depressed. i don't know what it says about me that i needed outside confirmation of something i knew to be true, but there it is.
long term, untreated, major depression. she felt like it had been going on for a very long time, based on what we talked about. which by turns made me feel very sad, and relieved. i don't know who i am outside of the shadow of depression - the greatest struggle in my internal life has always been being true to who i am. and i certainly have not been. because the person i am, has been sad, and withdrawn and pretty isolated for years.
i was talking to a friend yesterday about the diagnosis, and she mentioned that she can only think of one event where i was obviously, overtly happy. this was after explaining my fears of being bipolar, given my family's history of it. but i never have been manic - more prone to sinking into sleep or despair, with no bursts of activity or emotion to mar the placid surface of my darkness. it was sad hearing that, but it has all subsided into numbness. yes, i have a diagnosis. and yes, we have a game plan in place. but right now, nothing is different other than my awareness of how wrong i am.
not a good place, actually. that feeling of being so screwed up, and unable to cope with life. or maybe that's the self-doubt talking, the voice that i always hear, whispering of my failure. i will be going to two group sessions for depression therapy, education and support, as well as starting medication and individual counseling fairly soon (my primary care dr. will have to prescribe or refer me to a psychiatrist and a counselor), and i have an appt. next week with her. i'm hoping that somehow, we turn a corner on this thing, this overwhelming feeling of sad, hate, black, numb. grey.
i posted my diagnosis on facebook yesterday. it was such a foolish moment, because i have never been one to share the deep dark stuff with anyone. it's been much easier to hide all of it, much easier to pretend i'm okay. and i'm so not okay. in an event that surprised me, i got nothing but an outpouring of love and support. and i felt so much less alone, reading messages from my friends who also struggle. also have the little black thundercloud that follows them around. a.a. milne described it perfectly, for all my dislike of modern winnie the pooh.
but i think this cloud might only be on the inside... which is why posting it in public felt like opening a window into my depression. here's to sunny days with strong winds, that blow the darkness out, rearrange the pictures of myself that hang on the walls of my psyche, and bring that tiny, almost unquantifiable, minute feeling of hope. so small, a whisper could blow it away. so strong, nothing could move it.
here's to hope. and windows into darkness. and being unafraid to open them.
long term, untreated, major depression. she felt like it had been going on for a very long time, based on what we talked about. which by turns made me feel very sad, and relieved. i don't know who i am outside of the shadow of depression - the greatest struggle in my internal life has always been being true to who i am. and i certainly have not been. because the person i am, has been sad, and withdrawn and pretty isolated for years.
i was talking to a friend yesterday about the diagnosis, and she mentioned that she can only think of one event where i was obviously, overtly happy. this was after explaining my fears of being bipolar, given my family's history of it. but i never have been manic - more prone to sinking into sleep or despair, with no bursts of activity or emotion to mar the placid surface of my darkness. it was sad hearing that, but it has all subsided into numbness. yes, i have a diagnosis. and yes, we have a game plan in place. but right now, nothing is different other than my awareness of how wrong i am.
not a good place, actually. that feeling of being so screwed up, and unable to cope with life. or maybe that's the self-doubt talking, the voice that i always hear, whispering of my failure. i will be going to two group sessions for depression therapy, education and support, as well as starting medication and individual counseling fairly soon (my primary care dr. will have to prescribe or refer me to a psychiatrist and a counselor), and i have an appt. next week with her. i'm hoping that somehow, we turn a corner on this thing, this overwhelming feeling of sad, hate, black, numb. grey.
i posted my diagnosis on facebook yesterday. it was such a foolish moment, because i have never been one to share the deep dark stuff with anyone. it's been much easier to hide all of it, much easier to pretend i'm okay. and i'm so not okay. in an event that surprised me, i got nothing but an outpouring of love and support. and i felt so much less alone, reading messages from my friends who also struggle. also have the little black thundercloud that follows them around. a.a. milne described it perfectly, for all my dislike of modern winnie the pooh.
but i think this cloud might only be on the inside... which is why posting it in public felt like opening a window into my depression. here's to sunny days with strong winds, that blow the darkness out, rearrange the pictures of myself that hang on the walls of my psyche, and bring that tiny, almost unquantifiable, minute feeling of hope. so small, a whisper could blow it away. so strong, nothing could move it.
here's to hope. and windows into darkness. and being unafraid to open them.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
sitting on a cold tile floor
not the best place to think. but he wanted to get some sleep, and i can't. it's the old cycle again - things get tough, and i stay awake through the night. so i'm sitting on the bathroom rug, listening to sad songs, and reading terrible things on the internet. these days, the internet is full of nothing but terrible things.
being here has been in turns, difficult and a blessing. my sister is dying. slowly, painfully, and yet not unmercifully. cystic fibrosis is one fucked up disease, and while she is coping admirably with everything the disease robs her of, i have a hard time being around her. because i'm a coward. she hurts, and i hide. it hurts me to see her once vibrant body robbed of movement, her voice robbed of power, her time tied to machines that pound her lungs, the lungs that close, and bleed and close some more. i know it makes her feel rejected. and i don't know how to stop. because i hurt for her, and i can't even face her.
and of course, it's just another place i feel like a failure. a failure as a sister, a wife, a mother, a person, a woman. pcos leaves me shaped like a beer drinking forty year old man, with the acne and wispy beard of pubescent boy, and i gross myself out when i look in the mirror. we haven't had sex in months, because i am so disgusted with my body. and then our friends, who never stop having child after child, wonder why we're not having anymore. well, i guess there's a few reasons. he tells me it's because i can't take care of the one i have. although when i tell him that hurts me, he tells me it's the truth.
the truth is, it all hurts right now. maybe i'll have some better coping mechanisms later on, but i'm a week into being homeless for the third time, a week into finding out i'm about to be single again if i can't fix this, a week into realizing that hating yourself and having a black hole in your chest and wanting to sleep your life away isn't normal. that other people don't forget half their life. that other people didn't have their fathers shove his hands down their throats because they couldn't swallow a pill fast enough. that other people didn't watch their brothers and their mothers being beaten, holes punched in walls, food thrown in bowls at the faces of their mothers. that their mother doesn't still insist that God wanted her to remain married to their father, regardless of the abuse. i still have a hard time stomaching that. i'm pretty sure that we would have been a lot better off if she had left years ago. i wouldn't think it was normal to have memories of waiting to call 911, hiding in my basement bedroom.
it all hurts. so i'm sitting on the bathroom floor, and wishing i could sleep. or that this would all go away.
being here has been in turns, difficult and a blessing. my sister is dying. slowly, painfully, and yet not unmercifully. cystic fibrosis is one fucked up disease, and while she is coping admirably with everything the disease robs her of, i have a hard time being around her. because i'm a coward. she hurts, and i hide. it hurts me to see her once vibrant body robbed of movement, her voice robbed of power, her time tied to machines that pound her lungs, the lungs that close, and bleed and close some more. i know it makes her feel rejected. and i don't know how to stop. because i hurt for her, and i can't even face her.
and of course, it's just another place i feel like a failure. a failure as a sister, a wife, a mother, a person, a woman. pcos leaves me shaped like a beer drinking forty year old man, with the acne and wispy beard of pubescent boy, and i gross myself out when i look in the mirror. we haven't had sex in months, because i am so disgusted with my body. and then our friends, who never stop having child after child, wonder why we're not having anymore. well, i guess there's a few reasons. he tells me it's because i can't take care of the one i have. although when i tell him that hurts me, he tells me it's the truth.
the truth is, it all hurts right now. maybe i'll have some better coping mechanisms later on, but i'm a week into being homeless for the third time, a week into finding out i'm about to be single again if i can't fix this, a week into realizing that hating yourself and having a black hole in your chest and wanting to sleep your life away isn't normal. that other people don't forget half their life. that other people didn't have their fathers shove his hands down their throats because they couldn't swallow a pill fast enough. that other people didn't watch their brothers and their mothers being beaten, holes punched in walls, food thrown in bowls at the faces of their mothers. that their mother doesn't still insist that God wanted her to remain married to their father, regardless of the abuse. i still have a hard time stomaching that. i'm pretty sure that we would have been a lot better off if she had left years ago. i wouldn't think it was normal to have memories of waiting to call 911, hiding in my basement bedroom.
it all hurts. so i'm sitting on the bathroom floor, and wishing i could sleep. or that this would all go away.
doomsday prep. or how i'm convinced my world is about to end.
he's so burnt out, i don't know if we're going to make it until the end of the year. i'm already looking for room shares that would allow me to fit two twin beds inside, one for me, and one for my daughter.
since he may not be able to work again, i'm looking for full-time work. he is now seeing specialists for his blood disorder, the same disorder that allowed him to nearly bleed to death the day i graduated college. no one can figure out why he isn't clotting, is severely anemic and has white blood cell counts just under what triggers tests for leukemia. the closest research hospital can't see him for several weeks, which is just one more layer of stress. layers i'm drowning in. he wants me fixed. and i keep telling him i don't know how fast i'm going to get better, going to quit hiding on the internet because our life is too painful to deal with, going to stop treating food like medicine - to be indulged in often and heartily.
and on that, can i admit that i hate myself? i wish i could have an eating disorder that wasn't depression related binge eating. i've gained 25 pounds in a month, and i don't even know how. it's not like i'm really tasting it anymore. the last couple of times this happened were during major depressive episodes - the first 6 months of our marriage, the first 6 months after losing our house the first time, the summer we lost our house the second time, and oh yeah. now, now that we've lost our house for the third time.
he talks about having to cover up for my sleeping and my depression, and my disinterestedness in our family, but it's embarrassing to continue supporting someone who can't keep a job, and whose instability helps plunge me into episodes. we're a pair, we are. and it's tough to know how much of his job instability was due to emotional distress at taking care of someone falling apart in front of him, as well as being mom and dad to our daughter for years, and having to drop out of college so i could finish. i'm just at my end.
i don't want to be preemptive, but i'm looking for a way to take care of myself. and if he's bailing on me like i'm sure he is, i want to be ready. so back to craigslist i go. if i was room sharing, i'm close to being able to pay rent and gas on my part time university wages. even if somehow i slung coffee for the other couple of days i have off, maybe i could make it. it wouldn't be pretty. but maybe. maybe we'd be okay.
i just want to make it to my first appointment with a psychologist, because today has been a proverbial rollercoaster, and i'm not sure how much lower i can feel these days. if he leaves, i guess i'll find out.
since he may not be able to work again, i'm looking for full-time work. he is now seeing specialists for his blood disorder, the same disorder that allowed him to nearly bleed to death the day i graduated college. no one can figure out why he isn't clotting, is severely anemic and has white blood cell counts just under what triggers tests for leukemia. the closest research hospital can't see him for several weeks, which is just one more layer of stress. layers i'm drowning in. he wants me fixed. and i keep telling him i don't know how fast i'm going to get better, going to quit hiding on the internet because our life is too painful to deal with, going to stop treating food like medicine - to be indulged in often and heartily.
and on that, can i admit that i hate myself? i wish i could have an eating disorder that wasn't depression related binge eating. i've gained 25 pounds in a month, and i don't even know how. it's not like i'm really tasting it anymore. the last couple of times this happened were during major depressive episodes - the first 6 months of our marriage, the first 6 months after losing our house the first time, the summer we lost our house the second time, and oh yeah. now, now that we've lost our house for the third time.
he talks about having to cover up for my sleeping and my depression, and my disinterestedness in our family, but it's embarrassing to continue supporting someone who can't keep a job, and whose instability helps plunge me into episodes. we're a pair, we are. and it's tough to know how much of his job instability was due to emotional distress at taking care of someone falling apart in front of him, as well as being mom and dad to our daughter for years, and having to drop out of college so i could finish. i'm just at my end.
i don't want to be preemptive, but i'm looking for a way to take care of myself. and if he's bailing on me like i'm sure he is, i want to be ready. so back to craigslist i go. if i was room sharing, i'm close to being able to pay rent and gas on my part time university wages. even if somehow i slung coffee for the other couple of days i have off, maybe i could make it. it wouldn't be pretty. but maybe. maybe we'd be okay.
i just want to make it to my first appointment with a psychologist, because today has been a proverbial rollercoaster, and i'm not sure how much lower i can feel these days. if he leaves, i guess i'll find out.
a bad day... of sorts
it rained today. while normally it doesn't affect me, there was something about the combination of rain, having to put on a happy face and listening to people who just have their lives together that made me shut down.
we're at my mom's house, and as much as i love them, and need their support to make it anymore, it was too much. i want a quiet room, and silence, and no one "encouraging" me to use positive reinforcement to discipline my kid. i have none of those things, since we're now homeless. as to positive reinforcement's uses, i already knew it in theory, but when you are having a hard time getting out of bed in the morning, positive reinforcement becomes the least of your concerns. not that we beat her. i'm just always saying "no" or taking away privileges. because most of the time, i think i could curl up in a ball, and cry alice's tears, and float away.
it wasn't all bad today. we went to church, and i saw old friends who i love very much. they're working with the homeless, and recently opened up their home to a homeless single mother and her two kids. and i know there would be no judgement if i admitted that some days i don't even want to wake up. but it doesn't stop me from feeling so overwhelmed at the end of 4 hours of happy-facing that i want to sleep.
in the car, he started talking about how we're incredibly co-dependent, and that he's at the end of his ability to carry me. so of course what i hear is "you're a failure. you've broken me. you've ruined our marriage." doesn't make it true, but that's the place i'm in these days. he told me how our daughter was playing dress-up with her three bears, and that when asked who they were she told my mom "one is me, one is daddy, and the other is my friend." when asked where mommy was, she responded "mommy's not here anymore." why he thought that was a great way to make a point to me, i don't know. he then followed that with explaining how some of his friends from church feel that a mutually decided upon separation is biblical, and that no one would judge us for choosing it. i don't know how to tell him how unhelpful that is, without screaming, or crying, or vomiting - i feel like there is a darkness in me that swirls and eddies around my feet - it never leaves.
we got back to mom's house, where lunch started well, and then mom and my sister started in on the parenting advice. i was already feeling raw from the conversation in the car, and seeing old friends who don't seem to struggle to get up in the morning and all the feelings of failure associated with that. so once i sat through the well meaning lecture from one person who has never struggled with depression and the length of her marriage to my abusive, messed up dad forms the bulk of my current issues, and the other has battled depression but never had a kid and depression, let alone at the same time, i was done. well, i was done once they pulled the "i don't know if you realized it, but your husband is battling a life threatening illness" card. and i said it. though i felt like screaming it. of course i know. i know the fear of sitting in the hospital, and wondering if my daughter would have a father at the end of the day, and how i was going to make it by myself.
so now, in my quiet basement guest room, i have to get over all of this, and leave for another event with my mom and daughter. i'm just done. i could sleep a hundred years, waking up where this is all gone, and i'm not entirely sure anything would be better. it would just be gone. it's a bad day, though it didn't start that way. i'm not ready for it to continue though.
we're at my mom's house, and as much as i love them, and need their support to make it anymore, it was too much. i want a quiet room, and silence, and no one "encouraging" me to use positive reinforcement to discipline my kid. i have none of those things, since we're now homeless. as to positive reinforcement's uses, i already knew it in theory, but when you are having a hard time getting out of bed in the morning, positive reinforcement becomes the least of your concerns. not that we beat her. i'm just always saying "no" or taking away privileges. because most of the time, i think i could curl up in a ball, and cry alice's tears, and float away.
it wasn't all bad today. we went to church, and i saw old friends who i love very much. they're working with the homeless, and recently opened up their home to a homeless single mother and her two kids. and i know there would be no judgement if i admitted that some days i don't even want to wake up. but it doesn't stop me from feeling so overwhelmed at the end of 4 hours of happy-facing that i want to sleep.
in the car, he started talking about how we're incredibly co-dependent, and that he's at the end of his ability to carry me. so of course what i hear is "you're a failure. you've broken me. you've ruined our marriage." doesn't make it true, but that's the place i'm in these days. he told me how our daughter was playing dress-up with her three bears, and that when asked who they were she told my mom "one is me, one is daddy, and the other is my friend." when asked where mommy was, she responded "mommy's not here anymore." why he thought that was a great way to make a point to me, i don't know. he then followed that with explaining how some of his friends from church feel that a mutually decided upon separation is biblical, and that no one would judge us for choosing it. i don't know how to tell him how unhelpful that is, without screaming, or crying, or vomiting - i feel like there is a darkness in me that swirls and eddies around my feet - it never leaves.
we got back to mom's house, where lunch started well, and then mom and my sister started in on the parenting advice. i was already feeling raw from the conversation in the car, and seeing old friends who don't seem to struggle to get up in the morning and all the feelings of failure associated with that. so once i sat through the well meaning lecture from one person who has never struggled with depression and the length of her marriage to my abusive, messed up dad forms the bulk of my current issues, and the other has battled depression but never had a kid and depression, let alone at the same time, i was done. well, i was done once they pulled the "i don't know if you realized it, but your husband is battling a life threatening illness" card. and i said it. though i felt like screaming it. of course i know. i know the fear of sitting in the hospital, and wondering if my daughter would have a father at the end of the day, and how i was going to make it by myself.
so now, in my quiet basement guest room, i have to get over all of this, and leave for another event with my mom and daughter. i'm just done. i could sleep a hundred years, waking up where this is all gone, and i'm not entirely sure anything would be better. it would just be gone. it's a bad day, though it didn't start that way. i'm not ready for it to continue though.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)