Do you ever pour your heart out into a post and never post it? Just save it to a draft and stuff the feelings down? I do.
Well, where HAVE I been? Trudging along; one baby step in front of the next.
I have more on my plate than I can possibly handle and it’s rearing it’s ugly head in my life in ways that increase my symptoms. I fly off the handle, constantly, at those who I love most. I’m tired. My feelings toward myself are the lowest they’ve been in a while.
I lose my patience with everyone- especially my children. And then I hate myself. I try so hard, do so well then become unraveled at bedtime and become a tyrant.
So many days I want to just pack up and leave. I’ve thought a lot about that in the past week. I suck at taking care of people, and it doesn’t seem to be getting better
I just went back and read the last post I wrote, and I’m stuck there. I’m still thinking about “shining” every.single.day. And the closer we get to the anniversary of my “breakdown” the more edgy I get.
There have been some issues with little one at school and I find myself in the middle of a battle with the School AGAIN. And that brings my PTSD screaming back like a maniac which puts me in fight or flight with the very people I’m trying to help.
I’m useless. I say hurtful things. That’s the hardest part. That’s the part that makes me just want to lay in the road and die. I’m just a failure- just like my family believes- they’ve always been right about me- I should just accept it.
Please, don’t judge, there is really no structure to this poem, but it’s not a story, or a “post”. But tonight was a really bad night, and I let my pen just scrawl along.
I feel the familiar “whoosh, whoosh, whoosh” of the blood in my ears.
My heart is racing, pulse is 120.
There’s a buzzing in my body.
I’m sweating, everywhere, even my legs.
My brain is going to dark, dark, places.
I want to see the red blood coming out of my arms.
I want to see the raised skin of the scratch.
I want to feel the sting and burn of the cuts.
I want my brain to stop.
FAT, UGLY, HIDEOUS, GROSS.
Bad mom, yeller, ineffective.
Bad wife, “makes” hubby do all the cooking and clean
up from meals, undermines his discipline.
LOSER, CAN’T FINISH ANYTHING, STUPID
Will never change.
Always a victim.
Don’t SHINE, am a disappointment.
Not good enough, NEVER enough.
Undermines my own dreams.
I sit, tears brimming, threatening to spill over.
I sit at my desk all the things I used to use to cut at my disposal.
But I can’t cut, no matter how much I want to, I’m on blood thinners. I don’t want to ruin my kids’ life any more than I already have.
So I push it down, down, down. The whooshing, shaking, and sweating gets worse. My head pounds too.
How long can I do this? How long will I have to do this?
No one is going to save me, or the little girl inside. Together we will drown and choke on our labels; the labels of rejection and the labels we give ourselves. Never truly happy; never truly whole—
I’m currently hiding in my bedroom with my dogs… I left my brewing tea downstairs… my son has a friend from school over. Someone I’ve never met. I’m so not cool with it.
Hubby is irritated with me because I’m “hiding”… but I see it as a form of self preservation. My OCD is at an all time high today. During church I had to use a antibacterial wipe on my shirt because the kid behind me touched my shirt. I had to shower because we went to church. I have changed 3 times since coming home because of different contaminants.
It seems like lately I have been in hand washing loops as I call them. I’ll wash my hands, get 5 paper towels, dry my hands shut off the water with said towels, open the door with the towels, shut off the light with the towels, throw the towels away- then have to start over and over again. Sometimes it happens right during DBT. There’s a sink in the room and I will just wash over and over and over.
I hate getting stuck in these loops. It’s irritating to my rational brain, and it makes me feel like a lunatic.
So yeah. I’m hiding in my bedroom. I can’t meet anyone new today.
Nothing has changed in 23 years. Back then I was the disruption to my husband’s family. I was the one ruining it. I was told time and time again. At one point fairly early into our relationship, sometime after we were engaged but nowhere near our wedding, I tried to end it. If I was ruining his life I wanted to fix it… In the parking lot of a grocery store, I tried to end things and give him back the ring. I’ve never seen him more sad, and more hurt. He made me promise to never do that again. He assured me I wasn’t ruining their family.
If you looked at highlight reels from 1995 to 2018 you would see all the times I was a disruption, not good enough, not good enough wife, not good enough hostess, not a good enough mother to stop autism, ADHD, anxiety, bipolar in my kids…. the list goes on. But tonight my husband was told “mental illness is a ‘disruption'” specifically my mental illness. And I should be better now.
What? Like it’s that easy? I snap my fingers and I’m cured! But I don’t, so I must like being like this. Like not wanting to ever leave the house, like sleeping all day, like being stuck in OCD loops and feeling out of control. I must like being so sick of germs I’m afraid to hug my kids, or let them sit with me in my chair. Yes I enjoy it all… could you all feel the sarcasm dripping there?
It’s always been about this person, it will always be about this person and I will never measure up. This person has always known just where to sucker punch me.
First of all, been a while since I posted. I haven’t been doing much lately. I haven’t been drawing, or writing, or looking on Pinterest. I go the appointments I have to go to, I go to baseball and lacrosse games when I have to, and I scroll facebook mindlessly for longer than I care to admit. I just have no desire/motivation to do anything anymore. It sucks. It just seems like nothing has been going right, and so I just feel BLAH.
As for keeping it together, we have 2 checkbooks and I can’t keep them balanced and with money in them not overdraft. We are doing 2 different systems, cash like Dave Ramsay and debit cards. It’s not working – we need to do one or the other. So tomorrow morning I have to go to both our banks and put some of our cash in so that everything thats floating in the ether will clear.
Ha e you ever noticed when you are having a rough day/week that it seems like more and more and more crap piles on top making it and even worse week?
Tonight it was an argument with hubby about the fact I felt we are egging too much (what?). And an article on Facebook talking about how when our kids are infants and toddlers we think we will never be this tired again…. and then they become teenagers and the physical exhaustion we felt as moms of young kids is nothing compared to the mental exhaustion of having preteens and teenagers.
I have already been feeling the tug of Father Time on my family. The days of snuggles, and making them giggle with a silly face, them falling asleep in my arms, being their whole world, knowing everything (in their eyes)….all of it vanishes too soon.
Time is not fair. Our babies are little for such a short period of time- but the cruelest part? We don’t realize how short until one day they aren’t little anymore. And there’s no redo button. That time is gone in the blink of an eye. Soon they are sullen, eye rolling teenagers and school-aged no longer need you as much children.
This is just reason number 1000000000000 that I’ve cried today. I hate weeks like this- it’s like your brain searches for reasons to torture you….