Tomorrow we start with the first of our Christmas celebrations. We are going to my mother’s house. My sister will be there with her husband and son, and hubby, big one and little one will be coming of course.
I always approach these days at mom’s with some trepidation and angst. We are the black sheep. My step-father likes to remind us of that every chance he gets. He likes to bring up topics that he knows are going to irritate me. They judge us, and our decisions. We always have to do weird things- like this year we have to make a dish that is part of a Christmas song or story. I am making sugar plums. Part of me never wants to go- but the part of me that’s still a little girl and craves her mother can’t wait. My mother suffers from crippling anxiety but pretends she doesn’t. She gets me going and by the end of the night I am feeling like I have ran a marathon.
But I am going to do my best to not let them drag me in to the hot topics. I am going to lay down the ball and not toss it back. I am not mentally strong enough to volley with them.
I don’t know if I mentioned that I started a new antidepressant this week, my doctor told my husband to keep the bottle away from me because taken in too large of a dose it is fatal. I suppose it doesn’t help that I told her that if I ever took my own life it would be with pills. Everything else seems so messy, or painful. I don’t like pain. I really think she wants me to have a crisis eval, but honestly I do ok most days, it’s the days that big one is being particularly abusive, or days when my anxiety is out of control.
Going back to my earlier post about guilt- I feel guilty that I don’t call my father enough- even though he is the way he is. I feel guilty I have depression/anxiety/OCD/PTSD and possibly a personality disorder- I have a living husband and two beautiful children (though they often drive me insane- which also makes me feel guilty). It never ends.