Admittedly, I took a nap earlier. I was just exhausted. Which leads me to waking up and regretting it… around now. I bring Darrian and a friend of ours – Al’s kid Dave for school in the morning. So, I leave at 6:39 a.m. to pick Dave up, usually (yea, not always reliable on that time thing – but at least by 6:45a.m.). It’s 1 a.m. now, and I’m putting dishes in the sink to soak and I’m crying over the loss of my prior therapist, Jayne. Reason being? She had admitted that she had compassion for me. I have very few people in my life that communicate with me daily that have compassion for me. And there’s a reason for that. I’m terrified of letting anyone in. (Gah! Why is my cat eating a paper wrapper on the floor? Is she dumb?)
The last few days have been tough. I had lost my oxycodone for about 4 days. (Behind the stand that holds my cpap machine). So I have been heavily relying on tylenol to soothe my back pain. My husband has been between migraines and his bipolar mood swings. Plus, I’m sure the fact that we’re flat ass broke doesn’t help matters either. I think he worries a lot more than he tells me. A LOT more. And that makes me feel bad. He inherited me, which comes with a lot of bat crap crazy!
Monday afternoon, Eric and I were at his parents house doing laundry. I stayed in the basement the whole time, isolating myself the way I always do. Eric and his dad were upstairs setting up their netflix with their new blue ray player, watching some tv, and chatting. Meanwhile, I’m waiting for the neverending 1 minute cycle on the washing machine! I’m carrying, switching loads, getting up, sitting down, and I got bored – so I vacuumed their basement rugs and swept in the laundry room. The last time I walked upstairs to go to the bathroom I was a wreck! I tried to hold it in until I got downstairs. I was just about ready to switch over the last load into the dryer when Eric came downstairs. I was in so much pain, I can’t describe. But I wouldn’t let myself relax. I couldn’t let myself relax. I have seen Eric go downhill for months. And I know he won’t go back for ECT. Hell, I don’t blame him. His experience was 1 out of 10,000 people! His tolerance level for medications and other things is beyond anyone I’ve ever met. Granted, he’s a big guy – but still! His ECT experiences were traumatic, and if it were me – I wouldn’t want to go back! You couldn’t pay me enough! So, in addition to his bipolar episodes and two types of migraines – he’s having panic/anxiety attacks. He can’t take NSAIDS – it’ll kill him if he takes too much. He’s limited on bipolar medications because they too could kill him… and he’s allergic to quite a few too. So, let’s just call him – fucked. That’s the only way I can explain it.
So, here I am – standing in the basement with Eric, crying my eyes out. He asks if I’m in pain, which I respond yes – I am. It hurts to even type what I was saying at the time because it’s still so fresh in my mind. As I cried, yet again, I told him that I felt awful for not being able to contribute as much as I used to. That I am trying, really hard to get things done. And I hate, HATE being in pain. (As if anyone does really relish it) So, fortunately, he takes over. And I get to relax for a while.
Yesterday afternoon, Darrian came home with a swollen right cheek. At first it was swollen and the blue crescent moon shape on her cheek looked like makeup. Darrian had been crying earlier that evening because her friend is still in the hospital. So, I thought maybe it was just makeup running down her face. Yesterday morning, when she woke up her face was awful! I can’t begin to explain it. And I’m sure she won’t let me take pictures either. So, she goes off to school and of course has the barrage of questioning from everyone. Teachers, students, etc. The whole nine yards. Can’t blame them. I would too in their position.
School called while Eric and I were at the pantry trying to get groceries for the house. So we couldn’t exactly return the call. By the time we were done, I was able to get in touch with them. They asked that Darrian be seen at the dr’s, just to be on the safe side. And honestly, I had thought about it on Tuesday night when I saw it that way. Eric said it would be fine, just to ice it. The swelling would go down. And I just moved on.
I took Darrian to the doctor yesterday afternoon. Fortunately we were able to see a doctor at 3:15 p.m. The doctor was very nice and respectful. Advised us that according to his examination – Darrian had a minor concussion and a black eye, so to speak. That the swelling would go down in time. Nothing was broken and there was no bleeding in the ears or eyes. So, his recommendation – two days of rest and no computer, no phones, no tv time, and no school. Also, although she will return to school on Friday this week – she will have no gym participation until March 10th. (No skin off her back, I’m sure. She’s always saying she’s blacking out and getting dizzy while she participates anyway. I’m not exactly sure if her blood pressure meds are not high enough and not doing the trick, or if this is just her being paranoid since she was hospitalized a few years ago. Darrian is the type for dramatics.)
In addition, I haven’t heard from Ashleigh since last Thursday. As much as it’s nice to have some time off from conversations – because we run out of things to say, it makes me nervous. Yesterday, I did get a text from foster mom saying that Ashleigh was again excused from school. She was swearing and throwing fits. And if you read my last post, you know how I feel about her not being suspended during those key moments. And according to foster mom, while she was in respite last weekend – she was throwing a fit then too! So I have a sneaky suspicion that this weekend, we won’t have any visitation either. (We didn’t last weekend because of her hysterics. And this last weekend and yesterday were the exact same types of behaviors that prevented her from coming before)
I’m tired too, I really am. I want to just fall apart more sometimes. I see Eric the way he is and I feel like I have to pull it together. He’d do the same for me. And then other times, I just want to throw it in his face and tell him how I feel about it. Even though I KNOW damn well that wouldn’t do anything but make things worse for the both of us. I want to feel okay for a change, and taken care of. I know it’s more difficult than it sounds given the circumstances. I just am tired of waiting around to feel like I matter. It’s hard being mentally ill on both of our parts to acknowledge one or another. Anyone with mental illness can understand that – especially if you’re in a relationship. I honestly don’t blame him. I blame the mental illness for where our disconnect is. I also blame our socioeconomic and emotional stresses for where we are right now.
For now, I have to say goodnight. I’m going to try to make some coffee, french toast, and play a few games on the computer to keep my mind occupied. I think I need that. Plus, my doggie seems to want some attention from me as well. I could use some cuddle time with my Calla anyway!
I have to say thank you to anyone who reads this and follows along. I know sometimes it can be hard to follow my train of thought. This blog is very much like my therapy sessions. I go from topic to topic relatively quickly. I have so many things I need to work through that I have to. And my brain and mouth (and in this case, hands) keep tossing stuff out. The fact that I have supporters and readers (whether you comment or not) is amazing. So, thank you from the bottom of my heart!