Monthly Archives: January 2017

Never good enough

Once you are wrong, you’ll always be wrong and can never do anything right.  And if you’re right in his eyes, you can never do anything wrong.

I’m in the first category.  Ever since I was little, everything I did was wrong.  There was exasperated sighs, hands thrown up in the air, yelling, shouting, pointing.  Always, whatever I did, whatever I tried, I was wrong.

I didn’t put my shoes where they were supposed to be.
I left smudges on the mirror.
I threw a wet sock down the clothes chute and it got all the other clothes wet and what was I thinking?  Do I even think?  Ever?

I left the light on.  I shut the door too hard.  I couldn’t remember the difference between a phillips head and a flat head.  I didn’t push in my chair.  I move too fast.

I took too long.  I put us behind.  I didn’t pay attention.  My head was filled with nonsense and always somewhere else instead of where it should be.

So now, here I am again, feeling totally inept in my adult life.  I just got a job, proud of myself, and immediately, it’s:  ‘well, that’s good, that will give you time to look for a real job.’  Lights out on any shred of self-esteem I might still have had.

And now the big stuff is coming out.  For a while, there was a lull.  But now the ish has really hit the fan, so to speak.  He broke.  He called us out on all of our flaws, all of our problems, hollered and shouted and pointed and said, ‘you, you, you.’  Should have.  Don’t you think?  I’m at the end of my rope.  Lost cause.  What do you expect?

Part of me feels ashamed.  All of me feels guilty.  And responsible.  I listen to every word as though it is absolute truth.  He is absolutely right and I am absolutely wrong.  About all of it.  I’m wrong.  Wrong, wrong, wrong.  Wrong for not working harder.  Wrong for not listening.  Wrong for making bad decisions.  Wrong for not figuring it out.  Not working hard enough.  Not caring enough.  Not doing enough.  Not moving fast enough.  Wrong at every move.

I’ll never be right.  I’ll never, ever get it right.  No matter what I do or how hard I try, I will always, inevitably, be wrong.

 

Dull Fuzzy Fog

I got the job.  They called me the same day.

All the stuff I was alluding to last night (in my last post) is right up at the forefront now.  There’s not denying it.  Here’s the basics:  marriage in shambles, finances in disarray, family breaking apart, personal mental health going down the tubes quickly.

I should be thrilled that I got hired.  But I feel nothing.  I’m in a dense, heavy fog, like I’ve been sedated.  It’s not just tiredness.  When I’m so exhausted and sleepy that I can barely walk to my bed, as soon as I lay down I’m wide awake with thoughts.

They don’t go away.  None of this is going away until it is dealt with.

Sigh.

I don’t have the answers.  I quite honestly don’t know what to do.  And I’m so godawful tired that I can’t think clearly whatsoever.  Any ideas?

Avoidance

So I’m in this place.

I intend to get right down to it and prepare for this interview tomorrow.  But instead, I sent a few texts.  Then I talked on the phone.  For an hour.  And a half.  Then I made my kids a snack.  And put them to bed.  And read them a book.

All of this with a meaty intention of getting down to it, getting right down to it and preparing, researching, reading, investigating, searching all about this place I had applied to that happened to call me back and say, ‘hey, we’d like to meet with you’ and here I am and the day is finally almost here and I’m going to be spit-shiny ready with knowledge of all things knowable about the job and who I am and what I have to offer and everything nice and tight and perfect.

And then I spent some time searching for my son’s library book.  Because his need for it was urgent and he said if he didn’t give it back tomorrow that we’d have to pay for it.   And I’m not paying for some rinky-dinky book he picked up that’s been looked at and chewed on and probably touched 10,000 times over the course of 15 years that it’s been in his school’s library.

And I couldn’t find it.

So then I toasted a bagel and put cream cheese on it and ate it.  And then I picked up the book I’d been reading and smoked some cigarettes out in the garage while reading the book.  And the book is about the author writing about writing.  And so here I am, really ready to get right down to it, buckle down and lean into it and really get focused on this preparing.

But when you read a book about a writer writing about writing, it’s kind of a tricky thing.  Because writing is not something I find myself doing much of these days.  Maybe it’s cause I’m avoiding.  Not just this interview preparation, but alot of things.  Alot-alot-alot of things.  Things I’m avoiding right now as I write because I’m only referring to them as “alot-alot-alot” of things to emphasize the point that they are really big things and there are many of them but still I resist specifying what those really big, many numbered things are.

Because if I put them on paper (so to speak), then I have to move to the dealing phase.  The recognizing, acknowledging, then handling these many numbered big important things.  And as much as I’m ready to buckle down and handle this interview tomorrow, I’m not even remotely in the realm of pretending or fooling myself into believing that I might just be even the tiniest bit interested in diving into all THAT.

Therefore, to avoid the avoiding, I’ll focus on getting ready for tomorrow.  Wish me luck on my great, big interview.  I’m sure I’ll write about it.

Struggle

I’ve got to make it through this.  I’ve got to be able to carry this and keep going.

Right now I’m using every tool in my toolbox.  Im scrounging around in the very bottom of it, searching for what’s left.  I’ve used up all the ink in my pen, my voice is harsh and strained from all the talking and crying and my mind is drained.  I have very little left.

I’m angry and hurt and I’ve lost the ability to express myself in every way imaginable.  I have no map for this awful terrain.

I’m on my knees begging for help.

I’m going to lay down now and hope that my thoughts dont follow me to my pillow.  Music, tv, any distraction – just please work so I can have one peaceful moment outside this reality.

I have work in the morning, in just a very few hours.  Please just let me sleep and when I wake up, please make this nightmare disappear.

Wrong Way On a One-Way Track

Related image

FYI:  This is not actually me.

I feel like I’m headed toward a breakdown.  Like a runner who’s running a bit too fast and starting to lose traction but can’t slow down soon enough.  This is the exact scenario I work so hard to avoid, and yet – here I am.

Starting to flail my arms and trying to maintain my balance, but who am I kidding?  We all know I’m about to fall.  And I’m going to smack the ground.  Hard.

I could write about how hard it is as a mom with bipolar disorder.  I could write about how my husband tries to support me but we’re having marital problems.  I could write about how I’m terrified that my oldest son will develop bipolar disorder and my worst fear is that one day he will commit suicide.

I know my coping skills.  I am to:

Image result for running and almost falling

This is just a pretty picture that reminded me of a place I used to go to on my dad’s farm.  It was an old train track in a wooded area behind the acres he farmed.  When Mom got sick and there was no one to take care of me, I’d ride with him in the tractor.  If I got bored he’d let me out at one end of the field and I’d wander down the grassed-up tracks till he came back around to pick me back up again.

– write
– take walks
– utilize my support system
– stick to a routine of regular sleep
– eat healthy
– SEE MY THERAPIST.

I haven’t seen her since…October?  That is when I realized that my insurance isn’t paying for my visits (and won’t until February).  This is what stirred up problems for me last time, too – I wasn’t seeing a psych nor a therapist for months leading up to my breakdown.

Tomorrow I’ll call the office.  I’ll make an appointment.  I’ll find a way to pay for it later.  I have to see someone.