I lie to my kids….

My oldest, a son, like me suffers from comparison syndrome.  You know you probably have it too, the disease we suffer whereby we compare our looks, our checkbook balances, our talents, our children’s achievements to those around us – and social media makes it oh so easy.  So easy for the “I suck and they have it all together” to seep in.  So during and after lunch today I gave him this pep-talk of how comparison is the thief of joy. Of how he shouldn’t be comparing himself to anyone but himself. How wonderful he is. How he needs to not listen to that little loud voice in his head that tells him otherwise.

But I’m a liar. Or maybe worse a hypocrite. Comparison isn’t the thief of joy, life is. Or at least the choices that you make in your life is. Or at least… For me it is. My doctor recently told me the neuron pathways that get exercise the most are the ones that are the strongest. Mine are the negative self talk, the “I wish”, the “should have, could have, would have”, the self pity.  

If you asked me to name 10 things I like about myself I would struggle, and probably just name the things I think you expect me to say.  How I really and truly feel about myself would probably make you shake your head in disappointment (see even in my own head in my own imaginary senarios I’m a disappointment to everyone).  

The one good thing I can say about myself today is that I am intelligent enough to know the right things to say to my son… it’s too bad I can’t model it for him though- because “do as I say not as I do” has very little power in this world. And even knowing this, even the insight and intelligence I have isn’t enough.  Nothing is ever enough. I.WILL.NEVER.BE.ENOUGH. 

Nothing to say

I feel like I need to write something, I have all these “feelings” inside, but I don’t know how to express them, how to let them out, I just feel stuffed full with sadness.  I want to say something witty, or something cathartic to myself, or something that will help me let loose some of what I am feeling and thinking.

But I just have nothing.  I can’t say anything. I have no words. I want to cry but I can’t.  I want to scream but I can’t. The only thing I CAN say is what I said to Big One’s worker this morning “I don’t know how much longer I can do this” as I motioned around the environment. Did I mean how much longer I can adult? How much longer I can run the house? How much longer I can just survive? Even I can’t answer that question, all I know is that I just feel done.

Nothing is easy.  Nothing brings answers.  Hubby saw the Ortho about his back and the answer was to try another pill. A pill that will make him sleepy, and he works with power tools and heavy machinery… yeah that sounds like a good idea.

I feel like we are on the roller coaster that they are working on when you get on with trepidation and the ride operator assures all will be fine.  As you strap in you realize that there is a huge piece of track missing, and again you look at the ride operator with pleading in your eyes and again he says don’t worry we’ll fix it before you get there… I want off.  I want off this roller coaster. I want to ride on the merry-go-round for a while.  I want to just live a simple life, without so much worry and anxiety.

I want to spend $10 at Amazon on a book I want and not worry that it’s going to break the budget for the month.  Every year, as each holiday passes I think to myself, next year things will be better, I will be able to get my husband something nice for Valentine’s day, or we will finally be able to afford a weekend away for our anniversary, or next year my birthday won’t suck.  And every year, we are worse off than we were the year before.  Life will never get better.  We have no retirement.  Before my husband’s back injury I had no doubt in my mind that his business would be able to get to the point that it would support our entire family, as well as build us a nice retirement nest egg.  And now, I have serious doubts that he will even be able to support us for the next year let alone for the rest of our lives.

I guess I had more to say than I thought but it still doesn’t scratch the surface of how I am feeling.  I feel like there are thoughts swirling around in my head, but I can’t separate them from the vortex that’s going on inside my brain. Maybe tomorrow….

For now I’ve put my pajamas back on, a hoodie with the hood up and my body back in bed. I need to be alone in my sadness.  

I’m starting to share

Last night I finally had the courage to share these posts with my husband.  We sat at the dining room table and I read each and every one out loud to him. Pausing only to cry for myself.  At the end of it all he said how sad he is for me.  How sad he feels that I feel this.  He also said that I should know beyond a shadow of a doubt his life would NOT be better without me.  My response is, of course not, you need someone to do laundry, cook, take care of all of this as I motioned to the house.  He told me it wasn’t any of that, it was that I’m his only, and best friend.  And I cried harder.  All I could think was that he deserves so much better of a wife and friend than I can be.  And I told him “I’m not a very good friend right now”.  His response solidified to me that I’m right – he deserves more- he said “maybe not right now, but I can wait”.  I don’t deserve him. 

And that’s what it all boils down to.  When you peel away what I do in a day, what I look like, when you get to the very heart of me- I truly believe Satan’s biggest lie- “I’m not worthy”. I believe that when I look in a mirror I see someone less than, someone undeserving, someone no one should love. I’m damaged, I’m broken, I’m a burden, I’m high maintenance (emotionally). 

I’m not worthy. Despite Jesus’ soft whispers into my heart I just can’t believe in my own worth.  My deepest prayer right now is “Lord, help me in my unbelief.  Help me see your love.  Help me see me, like you see me”. Amen

Default Emotion Change

My default emotion for so long has been anger.  Any disruption to how my anxiety wanted things to go would be met with anger/irritation/resentment.  This has gone on for years.  I know those around me viewed me as tough on my kids, controlling, grouchy.  But anxiety ruled my life.  And anxiety wanted order.  Wanted everything in my control and anyone who is a parent knows we control next to nothing.   Anyone who is a Christian knows we control nothing at all.  But my facade of control did well to mask the panic behind my eyes and in my heart.  However, after valium made the anxiety monster go away (for bursts of periods of time) a new emotion surfaced. An emotion I haven’t allowed myself to feel for a very long time.  Sadness.  

With sadness comes tears.  With sadness comes heartache (did you know that you heart can literally ACHE?  Because I’ve learned that all too well in the past couple of months.  Sadness makes me feel weak.  It makes me feel vulnerable.  Feelings that a former victim of child abuse avoids like the plague.  I feel the sad, unwanted, rejected little girl inside me, and it hurts. So much.  There is so much sadness and pain.  I don’t want this pain.  I pray to God to take it from me.  I know He will, in His timing, He will use all this for His glory and He’s working all things in Heaven for my good.  It gives some comfort but the pain in my body is real, is relentless and is exhausting.  

My body is exhausted.  My brain doesn’t function like it used to, and my metabolism decided to move at the speed of a sloth on sleeping pills causing me to gain weight at the rate of about a pound a week.  

My new default emotion is sadness.  And as they say the eyes don’t lie. Everytime I accidentally look in the mirror I see the never ending sadness behind my eyes.  My children are being exposed to a mother who is sad and cries daily.  I worry how this will effect them- but even that isn’t enough to shake off this despair. Let’s hope the new meds can do it soon. 

Crisis? Am I in Crisis?

Webster’s Dictionary defines crisis as:

 

  • a :  the turning point for better or worse in an acute disease or feverb :  a paroxysmal attack of pain, distress, or disordered functionc :  an emotionally significant event or radical change of status in a person’s life a midlife crisis

  • 2 :  the decisive moment (as in a literary plot) The crisis of the play occurs in Act 3.

  • 3a :  an unstable or crucial time or state of affairs in which a decisive change is impending; especially :  one with the distinct possibility of a highly undesirable outcome a financial crisis the nation’s energy crisisb :  a situation that has reached a critical phase the environmental crisis the unemployment crisis

I guess maybe I am in a crisis.  I had a med appointment yesterday.  She increased my anti depressant. Left my anti-anxiety meds alone- for now.  But the crux of the appointment is that I am not getting better. Each time I go into her office I cry. I talk about how useless I feel.  How inferior I am. I gave her what I wrote here yesterday.  She read it without emotion (that I could tell anyway) put it on her desk and looked at me thoughtfully. I don’t remember what happened next in the conversation, the old me would, the me that was not medicated to mask the anxiety.  That girl would remember every minute detail of the conversation, every nuance, every raised eyebrow or change in voice inflection. But this me doesn’t.  This me is still hypervigilent but the thoughts are different, the way my brain holds information is different.

Not long after that she mentioned that she wanted to open up a dialogue about a crisis stabilization unit.  She says we aren’t there yet, but she wanted to start the talk.  Because I’m not getting better. If I am honest I am sadder and sadder by the day.

At first all I could think was “I really am crazy enough for the loony bin”… but then it didn’t sound so bad, 3-4 days without little people needing me, without anyone asking anything of me, a place to hide, a place to be alone and sleep, and cry and just be alone….

Today I am nostalgic.  Thinking about things, and people from my childhood- mostly my sister.  Until my husband came along and rescued me, she held me together.  She thinks that I was the one that shaped her, but she doesn’t know that she kept me going.  I had to be there, to protect her, to teach her, to love her in the absence of parents capable of giving us those things.

Im sad because I feel like a burden, to those around me.  To my friends who offer to bring me meals, or words of encouragement, or love. To my husband who has to watch his wife, who used to be strong, in control, kept the house running, fall apart into a shell of who she used to be.

I don’t know if I am truly in “crisis”.  I think most days I am safe, I can’t hurt myself too badly, because my kids need me, my husband needs me, my sister says her life doesn’t work without me. But sometimes….. in the darkness inside…. I wonder if they all wouldn’t really be better off…..

 

 

 

What are you looking for?

Im often asked what my goal is, what I want…. Here’s what I want

I want to stop feeling. (Period, I could end there, but I won’t)….

Feeling sad

Feeling mad

Feeling bitter

Feeling resentful

Feeling  sorrow-filled

I want to stop feeling pity for myself

Feeling irritable

Feeling aggravated

Feeling slothlike

I want to stop FEELING.

I don’t want to feel happy because in order to feel the sweetness of happy, you have to feel the bitter sting of sad/mad etc.

Sometimes I miss the “old me”.  The me that was so anxious she was always busy, she got shit done, and baked a cake too.  Sure, she was irritable and demanding, wanted everything perfect on her time table, but she didn’t have time to “feel” anything real.

I want to be numb.  I don’t want to be sad. I don’t want to be down.  I want to feel nothing at all.  I am tired of worrying about my husband’s health.  I am tired of worrying about my kids’ schoolwork, my kids’ future, how much I am screwing them up.  Tired of worrying I will be like my mother – emotionally distant.  Or like my father bitter, angry, using my children for emotional support, emotionally abusive.

I am tired of being poor.

I am tired of being fat.

I am tired of everything hurting- especially my hip.

I am tired of my hands being so numb I can’t drive or knit, or hold a book for very long.

I want to just go to sleep…. And sleep until it all goes away…..

I just want to have a good cry sometimes, but I am afraid if I start to cry I will never stop. I look in the mirror (when I have to) and I don’t see the masterpiece that God made me, I see a sad, scared little girl.  Unloved, unwanted, ugly, fat and pitiful.

Written 2/28/1

 

 

 

Sadness that overwhelms

Some days you are just sad. Sometimes you can pinpoint what is causing you to feel sadness.  Sometimes you cant.

Today, I am sad.  So sad that my heart actually hurts. Some of the sadness I know comes from circumstances that are going on in my life. My husband is sick.  With what we still aren’t sure, it’s been going on for three years. He’s not the man I married, with energy, zest for life, positivity leaking from his every pore.  He’s tired, he’s sore, he’s angry and bitter. And now he has a severe herniated disk. We aren’t sure what this means for his job- he’s a small business owner and only employee as a mechanic. We aren’t sure what this means for his future.

Today my dad gets the 2nd part of his leg amputation.  An amputation that could have been avoided with better choices over the past 18 years.  He could have managed his diabetes better, he could have avoided diabetes in the first place. But he didn’t.

I am less than 2 months from the age he was when he was diagnosed.  I am overweight– no obese–. 4 years ago, I lost close to 100 pounds.  I was 35, I saw 39 coming and I wasn’t going to let history repeat itself for the 3rd generation. But here I am 46 days from turning 39, and 218 pounds. My fasting glucose this morning was 114. I am prediabetic. And only I can stop it. Diet and exercise.  But last year I hurt my hip, and though an MRI shows a tear in the cartilidge of my hip, and 2 doctors concur it needs fixing the surgeon who would be the one to fix it thinks the MRI was overread. I can’t work out it hurts to exist let alone pivot, lift and flex.  My hands and arms are constantly numb.  Not just when I write, type or knit, but while I eat my breakfast, while I drive, while I exist.

As a Christian I am supposed to remember all this is a refining, the process of sanctification.  That all things are working together for my good.  But I am a bad Christian.  I want this pain gone.  I want to drown the pain with food, with my medications.  I want to feel NOTHING.  I want to sleep.  Sometimes I want to go to sleep and never wake up.

I still think about hurting myself.  I still wonder if those around me would be better off without my crazy in their life. Would I be better off if my father hadn’t been in my life? If he had walked away and not let his scars from childhood scar me? Sometimes I really think that yes, I would have. Maybe I wouldn’t hate myself so much.  Maybe I would have more self worth.  Maybe I would understand God’s love for me. Maybe I would understand that it’s unconditional not dependent on a set of things that I have to do, or not do. I want to feel that peace of Him in my heart.  I want to know that it’ll all work out, that I am free.   That I am no longer a prisoner to myself, because of Him. But I don’t know how to find that. How do I let go? How do I let Him pick me up, carry me, and take my burden and pain? How?…..