I didn't write this but unfortunately I could have.. and no, you couldn't hate me any more than I already hate myself.

 

The Gift That Keeps on Giving

 
"Mama"

This is a song that speaks about how the things the mother taught her son will always be with him. He tells her that loving her is like food to his soul. He assures her she will always be the girl in his life. She taught him that he could face anything that comes into his world. When his sky was grey and when he was down she was always there to comfort him.

My baby boy is 32 now. Typing that number beside those words haunts me. It haunts me because I don’t know the man who is my son. I think about him so much and I dream about him at least once a week. In my dreams things are as they should be; as they used to be. The dreams are the worst. I awaken and as soon as my eyes open I realize it was just that…a dream.

My baby was a very loving child. He was intuitive about people’s moods. He could tell when someone was sad even when they were not showing outward signs. He was so open with his love too. He wouldn’t hesitate to throw those chubby arms around your neck – he didn’t care who was around to see.

When I finally got pregnant with this child, we had been tying for four years. My doctor has already told us that short of a miracle, (or fertility meds), it just wasn’t going to happen again. We had begun telling family members who asked that we weren’t planning on having another baby. The day I went to the doctor because I had been sick all day every day for a few weeks, they did a test when I arrived. It was positive!!!  I would not allow myself to be happy until the doctor examined me and said that, “Yes. You are pregnant.” I don’t know how in the world I drove home that day but peeking out between the tears I made it safely home.

For 24 years I was a wife and mother my children, to that boy and his beautiful & bright big sister. I did motherly things at their schools. I went on field trips. I sent goodies to the classroom. I played hide and seek. I taught them to love books and animals. I fought tooth and nail when needed to protect them. One night I jumped out of my car at a convenience store in my nightgown to confront a grown ass man who tried to start something with my 15 year old son because he accidentally bumped him with the door on his way out of the store. And finally, I am sure I made some mistakes along the way. My biggest mistake was letting his daddy force me out of the home while my son, who was 18 and a senior, was still in it.

Fast forward to that day 18 years later when I knew my marriage was done and circumstances forced me to leave the family home 6 months before I wanted to. That is the day my life ended.

The hate my husband had for me was so pure and ugly and spiteful that in addition to telling anyone who would listen that he was going to kill me, he turned my son against me. He told him some truths and a whole lot of lies, none of which should have ever been shared with a child about his mother. Throughout the years I had done everything in my power to keep the bad parts of their dad from them. There were things they never knew until years after I left. When I realized that my son had truly turned his heart away from me, it was only then that I tried to explain to my son in a letter that our marriage was not always what it appeared to be and gave him examples.

My son watched his daddy start drinking and carrying on foolishly in his mad, angry life. He watched him get behind the wheel of his truck and drive off completely wasted. He watched him start missing work, something he had never done before. He was there for my husband to cry on his shoulder. He saw what my leaving did to him. After I left and my baby stopped speaking to me I started writing letters to him to try and explain why I was gone. Those first 3-4 years I must have written at least one letter a week; long letters; 2-3 pages long. I tried to call but he would not answer the phone. That is the year I began to die.

I starting going to a shrink. Every week for a long, long time. I would sit in her office and cry and cry like my heart was going to just break in half. She assured me every week that he would not always hate me so. She said it was just a matter of time before he would soften and allow me back into his life. I believed her but I just could not get my heart to stop beating that extra beat it has when you feel panicked. I could not stop crying even though my job required me to meet with clients and go on lunch meetings where I had to strain just to get through paying the bill so I could hurry back to my car where I could let go. I eventually gave that job up for one where I didn’t have to face the public so much. The tears – the depression – just would not stop.

My son who is now a man, has babies of his own. His wife practically grew up in my house. They began dating when they were in 10^th grade and she was at our house a lot. She used to talk to me and hug me when they would leave the house. I loved her like she was one of mine. They married the week after they graduated. Seven days later he took her to the emergency room because all of a sudden she began having horrible pain in her leg. She had bone cancer! Three weeks later they find out she was pregnant as well.

Because of the chemo and the surgeries she endured, and her refusal to abort their son, he was born blind and severely brain damaged. He is 13 now. He walks. He has some language. He is in school. He knows how to respond to questions – in his way – in the way they have taught him. He also has a little sister just 13 months younger. The doctors had told them she wouldn’t be able to get pregnant again for years because of the chemo but I guess no one told little sister that.

So my son went through this horrible nightmare of hospitals and doctors and fear and surgeries while trying to work and provide for his little family. How much help and comfort and peace did he miss out on because he didn’t have his mother? In raising this little boy with his issues and special needs how much peace could they have known had I been around. I’m not saying other people didn’t help them, they did, I’m saying look how much more support he could have had. Instead, I have two grandbabies who don’t know me and whom I don’t know. I have a man-child I don’t know.

When I see pictures of me over the last 14 years, I am astounded at the difference in my countenance from then until now. Although I have aged 14 years chronologically, I look twice that. That is what heartbreak and mental anguish does to a person. I used to be strong and fearless and happy.

My ex no longer hates me like he did back then but the damage he did is still there. He asked me not too long ago why am I still so angry with him for something that happened "so long ago". I told him this, "It is very simple...I awaken every single morning remembering that I don't have the love and relationship of my son. When you turned him against me, you gave the gift that 'keeps on giving'." 

Our son still has no mother and I still have no son. It has been 14 years since my son was turned against me. Fourteen of the longest years of my life. Fourteen years of my dying. Fourteen years of gradually coming to hope that the dying would hurry and be complete.

This article was written by a judge to divorcing parents. He says it all. Don't do it folks...just. don't. do. it.

Hurry up Santa

Santa please hurry. I'm not sure how much more of the merriment I can take.

I'm sitting here when I should be in bed but I know when I get in bed my mind will really start to ramble. What's bad is if I can hang on till the holidays are over, then I'll have a whole new fresh year to dread. In this box with no way out and no where to go if I got out.

A hundred years ago I used to do volunteer work with a local suicide prevention group. I was young, maybe 22 when I started. Was even volunteer of the year once for this office through the United Way. Looking back, I HAD NO CLUE.

I know now EXACTLY what those people would mean when they would say, "What's the use?", and what my trite, empty, canned slogans must have sounded like.

Holidays and People in My Boat

Well, it certainly didn't take long for me to come to the conclusion that I am unable to function once the medication is out of my system. I suppose getting the house cleaned was a positive from my little experiment.

Maybe now that it is clean I can keep it that way easier because all the energy I had flew out the window when I went back on the Seroquel. (I am not on as much as before but have a bad feeling that what I am on is not going to be enough.) I was cleaning and cleaning and thinking, "Wow. That Seroquel was really causing me a lot of fatigue." I guess what was really happening was it was keeping the bipolar under control.

Another holiday season is here. Over the past 14 years of mine and my son's estrangement that happened when I left his father, I most of the time have gotten better about the holidays as the years have passed but this year for whatever reason it is hitting me worse than in a while.

Yeah, this is definitely a "worse" year. I can't get my son off my mind. I miss him like I imagine a recent amputee misses a limb. I miss seeing his babies, my grandbabies, who I am no allowed to see. Now my daughter for whatever reason is unable to visit or have me visit because she "needs to feel safe". I haven't a clue what that means. My own father is now upset with me because I am not pushing my daughter about our Christmas get-together we normally have. If she doesn't feel well enough to have me over for visits I'm betting she doesn't feel like the big Christmas thing either.

I know there are so many other people like me out there. People who for whatever reason cannot tolerate the holiday season. Or at least not tolerate it well. Then there are people like me who can put on their mask and even convince themselves that everything is fine. I used to be able to do that.

I hurt for all of you! I cry for all of us who for whatever reason are getting older and missing our children. I'm sad for all of us who can never please our aging, elderly parents and fear that their acceptance will never come to fruition before it is too late. I'll lift you all up in prayer and you lift me up or send me warm fuzzies or whatever it is that you do...Merry Christmas

Three months ago I decided I needed to get off my psyche meds. I felt like I no longer knew who "I" was. I had no energy and between that and the constant pain, I had to do something or make some kind of change. I was on Seroquel (300mg), Prozac (20mg) and Nortriptyline (50mg).
(I had recently been on 400 mg Seroquel but we had dropped it to 300mg a few months ago.)

We started with the tapering of Seroquel. I was on 300 mg so my doc had me taper to 200 mg for one month, then 100 mg for one month, and this week is my first week off all of it completely. (In the midst of tapering the Seroquel, I realized one day I had not taken the Prozac for about 10 days. I had run out and forgot all about it since there were still other pills in my little pillbox. So I just never took it again. The doc is not going to like that since we were specifically wanting to do one at a time so we could catch changes and know to which drug to attribute it to. It was an accident however.)

When I dropped the Seroquel to 200, I couldn't tell any difference at all. None. When I dropped to 100 mg, I FELT IT! I have more energy than I have had in years. (So now I actually WANT to clean my house and yard but my pain level hasn't changed, lol ...thankful but frustrating to have the energy and the 'want to' but having to stop every few minutes to ease the pain makes it slow going.)

I love the energy. I love the "want to" that I have now. I have even started back thinking about writing again. I am cooking more complete, better balanced meals. There are a couple of negatives however...ANGER being one. I get so angry at the drop of a hat. The least little thing sets me off. The least little thing makes me want to scream at someone (I wouldn't). Driving has once again become a fighting sport (only verbally & from inside the car with my windows rolled up). I have apologized to my poor husband a million times in the last month. Things I had taught myself years ago not to fuss about all of a sudden get on my VERY LAST NERVE! And where he had become accustomed to not having to put things away when he was done with them, now all of a sudden in our clean house he better NOT lay something down and walk off.

Aside from the anger the only other negative (so far) is I CANNOT SLEEP!!! I was afraid of the depression bounding back. I never even considered something like anger coming back. (Is that the bipolar?)

On the one hand my house is cleaner than it has been in years. I'm talking closets; cabinets; drawers and bookshelves! I'm talking THROWING STUFF OUT!!!  On the other hand I am so mad I can't stand myself sometimes. Conundrum...Conundrum...Conundrum...

I believe I can learn to control the anger and lessen it somehow. I suppose I can work with the sleep problem and maybe stay up later and get up earlier rather than lay there trying to sleep when I can't. I'd rather deal with those two than go back to feeling like I did 2 months ago. I assume at some point I will need to attempt to deal with some depression (?). I mean I have been on medication for depression since 1992 and still had problems every 1.5 - 2 years requiring some adjustment or addition to the meds. I just know I HAD to try. I have to see who I am without the meds. I just have to.

Some days, no matter how hard you try, you just can't empty your brain of the bad stuff.

A Visit to the Shrink

I see my shrink on a semi-regular basis. It is good for the cause – cause I need to stay on my meds or I get a little “off”.

Each time I see the doc, I am supposed to be seen by the nurse as well because two of the meds I am on cause weigh gain and can cause diabetes. Each visit, the nurse checks my weight and my blood sugar.

Last week during my visit, when the doc was finished with me, I reminded him I was supposed to see the nurse as well. He was surprised I had not seen her yet. I suppose the nurse is supposed to see you before the doctor, (which makes sense – in case a med needs to be changed or further tests run depending on the results of the test results).

At the end of each visit, the doc walks you to the front desk and tells the secretary when to set up the next appointment. This time, he also told her I would need to see the nurse before I left.

After she made my next appointment, the secretary looks up at me and says, “So you didn’t see the nurse before you saw Dr. Shrink?”

“No ma’am” I replied.

“Are you sure?” she asked me, looking me square in the eye.

“I think I’d remember…” I said.

Phew.

Folks, just because I’m crazy, doesn’t mean I’M CRAZY!!!

 

(For the politically correct folks that may be passing through – if there are any of those on my “friends” list – I can say the word “crazy”. I have put in my dues for 19 years now and I have learned to laugh about it otherwise all that is left are tears.) J

(If the idea of my using very vulgar language bothers you, please go away and read something on another day. Today, for me, is just about hanging on. On days like this the vulgarity that some days seems to match my life just has to come out.)

 

I am so tired of feeling this way. I am tired of reminding myself of reasons I need to just hang on and hope it goes away. I am tired of the guilt. I am tired of the shame. I am tired of all of the shit that goes on and on and round and fucking around in my head.

I am tired of being lonely. I am fucking tired of needing to feel someone’s body against mine and feel their arms around me. I was not made to go without the physical aspect of who we are as human beings. I am tired of being faithful when it would be so easy to find someone, anyone, to hold me and make love to me for a few minutes.

I am tired to DEATH of seeing people on TV joke about how their man wants sex all the time. I am tired  of trying to talk to him and him acting ignorant and pretending he doesn’t “understand”. WHAT THE FUCK IS THERE TO UNDERSTAND??????????? Lie beside me in the fucking bed and touch me. Kiss me. Fuck me.

I am so tired of this earth. I wish so badly that I could just go on to Heaven without it hurting anyone. If I could make that happen I’d go today. RIGHT FUCKING NOW I’d go! This shit just isn’t worth it. I lost everything. I gave up everything. I lost a child. I gave up financial security. I gave up a paid for home. I lost my parents respect just a bit. I lost friends; or what I thought were friends. I even feel like I lost my self. When you’ve lost a part of yourself, there is no fucking reason for anyone else to give a shit. And all this for what? For a husband who hasn't touched me in years.

I am tired of the fucking pills. I am tired of the fakery. I am tired of wearing the mask. I am sick and tired of being here when all I really would like to do is to lay down and go to sleep and never wake. I hurt when he is here and I hurt when he is gone. How do you explain that? I feel like shit. I feel like he wishes I had never entered his life. I know he wishes he could go back and stay where he was and that makes me feel like some pile of shit he stepped in. Fuck this all. I mean fuck it all.

Just So You Know...

I love you with a passion you will never comprehend. I loved you before your presence was known to even me, much less the world.

I would lay down my life for you. I would have kept you safe no matter what that safety could have required of me. I believe I showed you that at least twice in the short time I had with you.

I loved the way your head smelled when I would hold you. I loved the touch of your skin against mine. I loved feeling your heart beat against mine when I held you close.

All these years I kept thinking, "It can't last forever". Well, I'm not sure how much more there is left until "forever" gets here, but if something doesn't change soon, my thinking was horribly wrong. It could last forever - and damn near has.

I'll leave this world loving you my son...just so you know. I'll hold no grudges; no bitterness and no anger, and I pray that one day, even if it is after I'm gone, you will find it in your heart to forgive me. I never meant to hurt you. I would have taken it back at any point were that possible, but it's not. It's just not. 

Just so you know.

Sunday, April 21, 2013

Oh God please tell me it isn’t back. Please tell me this is just “that time of the month” or something else hormonal. Please God don’t let this be my medication petering out.

The first thing I recognized was waking up in the morning and being disappointed about it. I know how ungrateful that sounds to most people, but until you have lived inside my head, PLEASE DON'T JUDGE.

 

The next thing I am noticing is severe forgetfulness and a really difficult time finding my words and concentrating. I even mentioned the forgetfulness to my family doc during my physical last month but he wasn't concerned. Oh, and another thing, I'm crying a lot. Right now it is only during a sad part in a movie or a song that really touches me, but damn it that is how it usually begins.

 

I don't know how many more of these lapses in life, because of the medication no longer being effective, that I can survive. It is like walking through water. Or mud maybe. Like some dreams I have had where I was running to get away from something but realized I was running in the lake and not getting any where.

The timing is right though. For the past 10 or so years, the meds work for 15-24 months then they stop. It has been 16 months since I was put on the cocktail I am taking now. I have always been grateful that I never had to be admitted for this. The last time though, I came very close. I can't imagine what it is like and from what I have read really don't want to.

Please, please, please don't come back.

Lately I have been thinking about James. This month will be the 13th anniversary of the day I left his daddy. I miss him so much, James, not his daddy.


I don’t know if it is the holiday season or just by chance that I can’t get him off my mind. When I get this way, I wind up dreaming about him at least once. I guess I dream about him 2-3 times a month. It is always a dream where we’re getting together for something or the other and it is as if we have not went 13 years not speaking. I awaken with the most depressed heart & spirit. To dream it is over yet to awaken to the fact it was only a dream. It hurts so much.

I used to write James 3-4 letters a WEEK! That first couple of years I did. I would also call his number but he would never talk to me nor did he ever respond to any letters or emails. I would try to explain why I did what I did. Explaining how it is not how I wanted to do things but his daddy forced my hand. Describing what it felt like to not have him (James) in my life.

I would write and remind him how close we once were; how whenever he was in trouble it was me he came to, not his daddy. I would tell him again about the four years it took me to become pregnant with him and how the doctor had already given up on it happening.

I eventually began telling him about things I had kept hidden from him and his sister all those years. The abuse; the spying on me; how his daddy would mark my tires in the driveway to see if I went off during the day while he was at work. Showing up on my job at midnight to see if I went straight to my car or if I stopped and talked to anyone. At this point in our lives, I had never, ever, given him any reason to not trust me, none!

I no longer know my son. I don’t know what he likes to eat. I don’t know what his thoughts are politically. I don’t know how he feels about everyday happenings in the world. I don’t know how he deals with his children, or his wife. I don’t know what he does for a living; or for fun.

Oh God how I love him; how my heart yearns for him.

Not Angry Any Longer (or Now That I’m Old I Understand)

I was angry with my mother for a long, long time. All manner of understanding and consideration of her circumstances never helped me to “get it”. Now, at 52, I get it.

When my mother was 35, she walked out on my daddy, and of course that meant me as well. I was 6. She ran away with a man she had begun seeing from work. After a few weeks, from what I have been told, she was left there in the motel room they had been living in when the guy decided to go back to his wife and kids. I am told he called my father and told him where she was and that she was talking about suicide. Daddy immediately went after her.

Life went on as usual. The only thing that changed was mother had to leave her job and go to work somewhere else so that she would not be around this man any longer. That was daddy’s only requirement to her coming back home. Otherwise nothing changed. No one talked. The only speaking that was done in our home was reminding someone to pick up some milk or telling someone to be sure and sweep the porch before night. It was years before I understood that in some families’ people actually talked to each other; even when they didn’t “need anything”. Some parents hugged and even kissed their kids. Why some parents hugged each other! Wow!!

Six years later, she was 41 and I was 12, she left again. This time it was with a different man. Someone at her new job. I was warned that eventually I would have to g to court and tell a judge which parent I wanted to live with. I was also told which parent to choose; this by my only sibling, a sister. She is 10 years older than me and she eloped at 15 so she was already gone by time mother left the first time.

I understand now. I spent a lot of years being mad at her. She doesn’t know that, but I did. Was what she had done wrong? Of course it was. Very wrong. Was she human? You bet she was! I understand now.

The one who caused the pain hurts just as much if not more. >They would never ask for pity - they don't want nor expect pity. They just want you to know. This song says it all.

Happy Birthday to me ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Gosh. Another one. Funny how they sneak up on you after so many. I wonder how many more. I wonder if they will all be as dreaded as this one and the past few. Sometimes it would just be easier not to have any more, to..uh..celebrate. Shouldn't be listening,but...

Mothers Day 2011

I hope the mothers out there had a peaceful day. I know the cards all say, "Happy" Mothers Day, but I believe peaceful is just as good. As mothers, some of us carry around extreme loads of guilt. Guilt for either things we did or failed to do, or guilt for ways in which we perceive we failed our children.

I have plenty of guilt myself. I was never"mothered" as a child so the mothering I did I learned on my own. Some of it was good, some of it was not. I was young, and chances are I was bipolar as well.

I have learned this about guilt; number one, ask your Heavenly Father to forgive you. He will. Next, ask forgiveness from those you have wronged. They either grant you that forgiveness or not but if you ask in earnest that is all you can do. Then, FORGIVE YOURSELF.

That last part is the hardest part. You may have to do it several times over several years. Keep doing it until it "takes", lol. "Fake it till you make it" as the old saying goes.

I forgive myself, again today. On this Mothers Day, 2011, I forgive myself for not being perfect.