So, maybe is a good time to write or maybe it isn’t. Took two of my anxiety pills that make me sleepy. Maybe it will get the words flowing.
Having a hard time not letting my mom’s mental illness take me down. I feel the anxiety in my shoulders, always tense and even attempting to consciously trying to relax doesn’t work.
If it’s this hard for me to deal with this now, what’s it going to be like in the future? Will my therapy be able to keep up with her downfall? Or will it run right over me and pick me up like a snowball rolling down a hill. I’ll become a part of the mess; I’ll be indistinguishable from the illness that surrounds my mom. There’s not much left of my mom, her sanity is leaving and replaced by an alternate reality that only she sees. Our rules don’t work her in world, no one sees life the way she does.
It’s horribly depressing.
I have a high level of anxiety due to the fact that I never learned how to make myself feel ok. I look for other people to tell me that it will be ok, unable to believe myself. I’ll let you get close to me, if you tell me I’m doing good to prop me up.
It’s neither better to lose a parent through death nor mental illness. Both suck. Too watch a parent die or fade away, it sucks. Life is so trivial in the big scheme. My life in terms of all life- trivial. Life is too fucking short to be bogged down by shit. This is my only life, I want to be happy. Ok, so maybe rainbows and unicorns are too much to ask for, but how about smiles and kisses.
Missing Fisher. If it all works out, I’ll visit him in two weeks. He’ll be incredibly busy with rehearsal and no doubt grumpy when he comes home, but hopefully when we’re together it will be good.
The love a have for him is so intertwined with who I am. “You and I have memories, Longer than the road that stretches out ahead” ~Beatles.
What an effin’ job to figure out how to manage anxiety that’s been accumulating for roughly 36 years. 36 years of needing my parents to tell me whatever I needed to hear. And now I’m out of luck. Dad’s dead, Mom has lost her marbles.
So, I get to head down this road myself. Finding out how to make myself happy by myself. Just me. No validation from the peanut gallery. No boyfriend to beg for love. How about I just stay in bed?
Going forward with therapy I want to know what I’m going through. I thought I had dependency issues. Nope, I have built up anxiety. My dad ran away after the divorce, well my mom kinda chased him away. I was freaked out that I would lose her too. That she would drop me off with my grandma or an aunt and I was afraid that she'd never come back. She worked full time and took care of three girls. A teenager, a tween and me, the baby. I was potty training when my parents separated. I have vague memories of my little toilet sitting next to the big toilet in bathroom. Thank god I have no memory of shitting my diaper.
What I do remember is that my sisters were rock solid for me. They dug in their heels and did their best to protect me. Sure, L* and I fought like it was WW3, but she was right there with me eating american cheese singles in the closet while our parents fought in the kitchen. I was angry, I took it on L*. Not even angry, more like confused and unsure.