I knew that would give you a laugh. Go insane Dorothy, but aren’t you already there? Yes, yes, I know….been there and back again many times but I am losing my mind listening to my father talk tonight. Normally I would have a drink and I would feel fine. I am not a drink till I’m drop dead drunk during the week type of person because I’m responsible for my Dad. It got to be that lately I would feel really stressed and then I would have one or two drinks and that’s it. But this went on throughout January and now into February. First it was maybe on a Friday night or a Saturday, then it got to be Friday and Saturday, and then it got to be almost daily.
Yesterday I went to my therapist but the one that prescribes the pills only. He refused to help me until I stop drinking and when I told him I couldn’t then he said I should go to the hospital. But if I go then no one can take care of my father. So, I am up shit creek without the paddle. Just listening to my Dad talking is giving me a headache too. He has advanced dementia and rambles on nonsensically. Talking in non sentences about nothing because none of it makes sense. It goes on and on and on and on and on and on. When it ends I’m not even sure it’s ended because I expect it to start again. I am trying so hard to just not drink and I don’t feel depressed I feel manic but not manic…..I don’t know what this is!! You know that feeling when you want to run screaming from your house and run away? That’s the feeling….but there’s nowhere to go. I’m going to keep trying…..I only have another hour until he goes to bed, if he cooperates. Then I have to get through the rest of my night alone. I’ll take my pills early if I have to or go for a walk while one of the kids watches over things. I tried walking earlier and it didn’t help and I was shocked at how quickly I became winded. I used to go hiking every weekend and didn’t feel like this….now something has changed and then I poisoned it all with the alcohol.
So, I have nowhere to turn except myself right now. I have to look at it in tiny pieces or I’ll be overwhelmed. Self destruction looms large too….I’ll be glad when this day ends.
I had a bad weekend. It started with Saturday night. I was watching a movie with my older daughter and having a good time but then my younger daughter came into the room. She has a way of changing things quickly. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing all things will stop for her and the spot light must then be upon her. And she can’t seem to speak in a normal volume it always has to be amplified. Surely this comes from having earplugs jammed into her ears with the music blasting for years but what do I know…I’m only a stupid mother? So, since she asked for the spot light, she got it. I can’t remember how the conversation turned to the subject but just two days before my daughter had shaved the hair off of the side of her head, so I proceeded to speak with her about where she felt this was going to lead. What was going to come next? She had mentioned before about having her ears stretched or something, piercings, tattoos, etc….etc…. Now, to let you know…I have a tattoo and I dye my hair on occasion so I can’t say anything about that. I don’t really care about piercings though I wish she wouldn’t and I even looked at the head shaving business from the point of view of a stranger and just accepted it because hair can grow back. I am trying to be as open-minded as possible. I do think I would totally freak if she stretched her ears though. But I can’t do nothing, she’s 18 and it’s legal for her to do anything she wants. I’m not giving her the money though. So, I discussed this with her because I am paying for her community college and I was saying that society does judge you on appearances which is why I wanted to know where this was going. Unfortunately she decided not to have a discussion and to tell me to get my head out of my ass. Sorry honey there goes your free ride to the train station in the morning. You can get your ASS up early and hop the bus to the train station yourself Miss “I’m an adult and can do what ever I want”……she then proceeded to slam her door in my face whereupon I told her father would have been very upset with her shaving her head. Maybe I shouldn’t have spoken the truth but my husband would have been pissed at her. He didn’t go for that. This caused her to come flying out of her room with her fists flying all over the place, punching me left and right. I didn’t know what was happening, she was so crazy. I understand I’m an easy target for her, this wasn’t the first time she’s ever hit me but this was certainly different because it went on. She was going to try to lock herself in the bathroom then and play the old…I’m going to kill myself routine….sorry, not gonna happen. I got my big foot in the door and put myself in there with her and told her, Go ahead, in front of the mirror, adult, want to hit me more, watch yourself doing it….I can call the police now. This proceeded to be another discussion with her telling me she wished I was dead (like I’ve never heard that before….please…..do me the favor) and then that she would kill me…..like I said, do me the favor. Her and I are too much alike. I can stand there and say go ahead. I’m too stubborn and she’s too stubborn. I’m crazy and she’s God knows what. When she said she was going to leave that was when I decided I was going to leave. I was sick of being her bitch. I tried to leave and that’s when she grabbed me by my hoodie which was zipped up to my neck. I turned and she grabbed me by my arm and that’s when I finally swung back at her and told her to get her hands off of me and said I was calling the police. She’s taller and stronger than me and I just had it, you know. I’ve never retaliated before and I’m not happy I did this time either. I just wanted her to let go and I’m glad she did. She heard my other daughter yell to leave me alone. I ran downstairs and grabbed my coat and left. The whole time I was gone all I think of doing was hurting myself. While driving I thought about driving into a tree. But I could see my other daughter and I thought about who would take care of my Dad. I really hate life right now. I was depressed before but now I feel even smaller. It seems like no matter what I do in life it’s wrong. I don’t understand my younger daughter either. I’ve never done anything bad to that child, never hit her. I hit her sister when she was younger but even that I stopped because I didn’t like that kind of discipline. My husband and I never fought and we barely ever argued about anything. I wish she’d get some counseling for her anger but since she’s 18 I can’t make her do anything. Right now I won’t even talk to her. I’ll see my therapist tomorrow but I don’t expect anything positive out of the visit. I’ll just be lectured for the dangerous amount of alcohol I’ve been consuming. Hey, I’m the type that is self-destructive. I haven’t cut myself yet (not in years) but what’s the difference. The whole weekend made me exhausted and not want to get out of bed again but Mon-Fri. is my Dad so I behave for that. Now he’s in bed, so I am listening to music and trying to cope. Hope everyone has a good night.
Does anyone else feel stigmatized by this illness? I wasn’t officially diagnosed until I was 30 even though I exhibited classic behavior in my teen years, I was simply labeled depressed. Since being labeled bipolar I have kept it hidden from people most of my life. I never filed for disability always struggling through retail or other jobs that earned minimum wage. At one point I became a commercial cleaner. This was the best job I ever had because I could work by myself after all of the others went home and listen to music on my headphones and sing and just not worry about interacting with others. Since I was fanatical about doing a good job and a perfectionist, the job was always done efficiently and done well. I went on to starting my own company in which I ran for ten years. During those years I married and had two daughters which took precedence. Eventually I gave up the cleaning to be a stay at home mom which I also greatly love. Throughout those years I only mentioned to my daughters pediatrician the fact I was bipolar because it can be hereditary and it did turn out that my oldest daughter did get it. In hindsight I could be a bitch as a wife, put my husband through many different factors of my personality, ranging from psychotic mania to deep, deep depression. I would call him at work and tell him to come home and then go to a hotel because I couldn’t take it anymore. This was before I was on medication. My husband was a saint with me. He never complained. I miss him so much, even if I could just talk to him. The only thing that gives me some comfort is that he deserves the rest and love that God offers and that he is young again and never has to work another day of his life.
I had a dream with him in it last night. We were riding in our car together I always used to drive and he was in the passenger seat. We were in a rough part of town and I kept expecting him to steer me out of there to direct me the right way. Instead he kept leading me down one ways that ended in dead ends….they were like people’s driveways and I had to back out. I kept asking him why he was taking me to these dead ends but he couldn’t talk. Even in the dream I knew he was dead but I was asking him because I hoped he would answer me. When I woke up I started to cry because I knew he was only accompanying me for the ride and I was the one driving into all of the dead ends. That exactly what it felt like when I woke up. All week long I have been running into these dead ends and I am asking myself why am I hurting myself so much? I didn’t do anything wrong…depression is killing me, so why help it?
I will try to write more later I need to go for a walk or something because I feel upset and at least on saturday I can leave my house. During the week I take care of my father and can’t leave, so I am going to breathe some fresh air and see if that helps.
Many years ago in my mother’s family tree there is Native American blood from the Mi’kmaq Indian tribe. It has reached me in a distilled and diluted form mixed with my father’s Norwegian blood. Two seafaring and war-faring tribes mixed with farmers, revolutionaries, rebels, Tories, and other rebels…..I love the history of my blood. But somewhere along the way bipolar disorder found its way into the mix. The earliest mention I know of it, and this is only an educated guess, comes with my grandmother on my mother’s side. I believe this comes from my mother’s side of the family . My grandmother was hospitalized many times I have been told. When she would get out she would have another baby and then some time later be hospitalized again. Supposedly it was a sanitarium for rest. Rest for what? No one would discuss those things back then in 1922 when my mother was born. She would have two more children until 1926 and then died in 1927 from tuberculosis . I believe she had been hospitalized for her mental illness and in the process did catch TB which caused her untimely death. So many answers lie with the dead. My mother, born in 1922, suffered from a mysterious illness that would cause her to scream on occasion and slam things down according to my father. I saw her do this on occasion when I was young….I just thought my mother was really pissed and I better run…lol. My mother was a hoarder, and very frustrated by life, but I never thought it was strange because she was always like that so it was just my mother. I never thought it was strange. My father and mother would have occasional arguments about the mess…I hated that and wondered if they would divorce but it’s not like the stuff you see on TV on shows like ‘Hoarders’. She could fill a room though and then have to climb over the piles of stuff…lol. It wasn’t until she had Alzheimer’s when she was old and I was caring for her that I realized she had bipolar. I had to give her medication to help her…stuff like Ativan to calm her down or Benadryl to help her sleep. It never worked , did just the opposite. The Benadryl jacked her up like she was on speed and the Ativan made her like she was going to kill me. . Every drug did the opposite…..I realized after she died that this was what these drugs did to me….and suddenly the puzzle pieces fell into place. My mother had been living with the disease too all of her life………….it explained all the weird little quirks that made my mother Ma. WOW…….What a fucked up world. And you know what….I passed it on to my oldest daughter too. Funny how the family tree keeps spreading it’s roots out like a parasite. I love my daughter and her and I live with bipolar. She is wonderful, creative, sometimes she suffers and life doesn’t get us at all. I wish the world would understand that most of the inventions and masterpieces and things that people find amazing were made by people with ‘mental illness’. This is a word that should be used for the ‘normal ‘ people. Look around, read the newspaper….who’s the crazy people? Just asking.
So, since I am on medication I am not supposed to drink but I am. I don’t always nor have I drank for a long time. Not that I need to justify myself to anyone. I’m sick of that. Always having to say I’m doing this or that for some reason. I drink because I like to feel drunk. Admit it, you do it for that reason to. All people get high on their substances for that reason. It’s not because they like to feel relaxed or they like to sleep or some other BS it’s because they like to feel high. My doctor said it adds to my depression. excuse me, I started drinking again because I felt depressed and I was sick of living and I wanted to escape and fuck this world anyway. I’m tired of life and I’m tired of the day-to-day shit. I don’t sleep anymore and I want to escape from all of this. Even in the middle of the day when I look at something like my back yard fence I see it, but it doesn’t look real, it looks like a dream land. So, what difference does anything matter anymore, real? fantasy? WHAT THE FUCK IS IT???????? I DON’T KNOW ANYMORE!! Pills!!! Take more Q!!!!! take more…until they screw you so much you don’t know whether you’re alive or dead or breathing or not…. what does it matter anyway, you don’t even know if you’re real or not…..Here…Have another VODKA ND KAHLUA and feel NOTHING!!!!!!!!!!! fall on the floor and sink into it, feel the coldness on your back………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….