Rock Bottom, Hit

Have you ever been so sad that you can’t move?  Feeling so depressed and rejected that even moving your face to cry is impossible?  Tears just roll down your cheeks? Chest unable to heave?

The feeling of unimportance finally proven to be true?  That all along fighting the thoughts of being unlovable were in vain?

All of those coping skills learned, all of the meds, all of the triumphs to succeed in life against incredible odds fail?

The betrayal so overwhelming and complete that your broken heart can’t move you?

The only way to tell these feelings is in a blog, because telling anyone else just makes you look more pathetic than you already feel?

This is the place I usually insert the last line of hope or whit not to worry anyone that I might finally crack.

This morning sitting comatose on my couch for the first time in my life might just be a step closer.

 

 

 

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Is this rock bottom? Nope, not yet.

Time for some honesty.  My life has been hell for the last two years.  It wasn’t that great before divorce, but never like this.

My oldest daughter and I used to be so close, but since the divorce, it has changed.  She doesn’t text back, return phone calls or emails.  There are plenty of ideas going around that have nothing to do with me, but the evidence is irrefutable, it’s me.

My youngest daughter, who came out to me last summer, is transgender.  I’ve been coping, adjusting and trying to understand.  He’s moved in with his dad (and woman he was cheating on me with) last month and has cut off all contact with me.  If you will remember, his dad is a raging narcissist and still will not stop tormenting me.  I suspect Caleb is a border line.  Might as well throw that in to my family; border line, bipolar, narcissist….I’m surprised any of my children are functioning.

I have also be cut off by my beloved sister.  I guess mental illness and the drama of my marriage, divorce, transgender child was just too much for her.  I’ve sucked her dry.

My therapist is actually just trying to keep the boat afloat.  Trying to give me ways to cope, because facts are facts, all this shit is happening and I can barely come up for air before some other event occurs.

I had to call 911 on Caleb before he moved into his Dad’s because he threw a tantrum and was destroying my bedroom and bathroom.  Glass was everywhere and due to his mental health I was afraid for him.  No one from my family has asked me, what happened and how I am.  I am totally shut out.

What the hell is going on?  I am alone.  I’m supposed to be depending on my friends according to my therapist, but I’m not there yet.  It’s not the same.  I’ve never lived alone.  As with most mothers, my family has been a huge part of who I am and now they are all gone.

I’m sure it looks bad for me.  I must have done something.  I must be something to drive everyone away.  The only thing I am is … well the only thing I think I am is unimportant and not worth the effort.

I feel like shit right now.  I feel like shit everyday.  I’ll make it though and eventually get to enjoy my life.  I’ve been telling myself that for 52 years.

 

What would you do for sugar?

When you really need sugar and by accident find these under your bed! They weren’t all chewy sweet tarts though.

Can you find the ibuprofen hidden in the chewy sweet tarts?

Crystal Lynn enters, stage left

I said in my last post, first one in a long time, that things were getting better because I’m learning and putting into practice ways to cope.

There is still so much drama in my life it is unbearable at times, like last weekend.  I can’t even write about it because the anxiety still bubbles up and fills me.  I was so depressed it wasn’t looking good for me.  My medicine is working, I know the difference between meds screwing up my mood and other depression caused by rejection, fear, feeling, lonely, confusion and stress.  My narcissist ex-husband the cause of all of it. It was bad.

I was doing that pathetic crying again., Where you don’t make a sound or move and the tears role down your cheeks.  I tried not to give in to it.  I knew I should try all the “tricks”, but I couldn’t even do that.

Sunday morning around 11am it was either this or me.  Dead serious.

So I got into bed, watched reruns of “The Big Bang Theory” and waited.

I’m not sure how long it took or why it started to happen, but I started to come around a little bit.  Nothing like a phoenix rising from the ashes, but clawing out from under the earth and reaching the surface.  Very dramatic, but that is how it was feeling.

Just that little breath of air from the surface began to clear my head.  I meditated for 5 minutes, crying.  I read a little book I have about 50 mindful ways to calm.  And then I remembered, Crystal Lynn.

Crystal Lynn is my alter ego that I developed to stop being so, well, being me.  She doesn’t have a job, sits on her porch all day surrounded by cars on cinder blocks, smokes and does what she wants.

I needed her because she says things like “Who cares?” and “Fuck you!” and “Fuck that”. If she says it enough it feels real, I stop caring and I can breathe a little more. When she’s thinking for me I reach that calmness.  It’s amazing how she can practically soften blood pounding in my head, pain when I breath in and my pounding heart.

In my already delicate mental state, a teen age transgender daughter/son (I’ll tell that story sometime) working two jobs, narcissist ex-husband that despises me…I’ve got to stop writing about it again, my chest is beginning to constrict.

On top of all that…I made my self-crazy with anxiety, because trying to be the best at everything and usually failing I fell into that vicious cycle.

Crystal Lynn doesn’t handle the bigger situations as well, but I cause almost the same symptoms with the little things as well as big things.

Example of a little thing that I made into a big thing:

My son’s college graduation. I knew my ex-husband would be there and then I found out the night before that my ex-in-laws were coming as well. I started trying on outfits, using it as a way to redirect my anxiety (didn’t realize that was what I was doing).  I tried on all my clothes and shoes. Nothing fit because I’ve lost so much weight, but still lumpy in places.  Worrying about where I was going to sit, what time should I arrive, where were they sitting, what if I saw them, what if they were there for pictures…. spinning out of control as usual.

Enter Crystal Lynn,. She said, “Just wear something you will be comfortable in, John knows what you look like and there isn’t anyone else that you have to impress or even cares what you are wearing.”  Now anyone could have already said that before, but it’s a magical feeling to feel it and do it with absolutely no second thoughts, almost as if I came up with it myself!

I think people with anxiety and/or PTSD reactions will totally understand how a small thing, or in my case, all small things connected to John start to get on that endless circle only picking up speed with each pass.

I wore my comfortable outfit that fit. White jeans and black cardigan. At the last minute my dad said he was going with me.  I fought the physical reactions, took half a clonazepam, parking no problem.

We sat with my son’s wife’s family, didn’t look around and I don’t think I was spotted. Took pictures with Tristan.  In laws and John showed up.  I was aloof and took the high road (hate that road).

Thanks, Crystal Lynn, please come again.

Dog Tag Team

I believe the dogs conspired against me.

I made two chicken strips and 5 or 6 mozzarella sticks (which I never have) and sat down on the couch to eat.

Henry went out the dog door and started barking. I had to get up and coax him back in through the dog door with half a mozzarella stick. I turned around to go back to my supper and Addie had eaten all but the other half cheese stick I’d had to give to Henry!

I know Henry was the ring leader (miniature poodle)! There’s no way Addie (golden doodle) could have come up with that by herself!

The evidence….Addie has black fur.

It’s a new day, it’s a new life….

I began writing my blog from a need to accept my newly diagnosed self with Bipolar II.  At that time, except for my marriage, that seemed to be my biggest struggle.

I wrote mostly about everyday things with a little humor.  Those were good times.

My posts changed with my mother dying.  The trauma of those two weeks coupled with my broken marriage wreaked havoc with my delicate emotional balance.

The next years became fraught with major life changes.  My youngest daughter’s seizures, my narcissistic ex husband’s affair and the divorce.

I was thinking back to the last year and a half (which I try very hard not to do).  My relationships with my children were falling apart. I was emotionally falling apart.  During this turmoil I was still able to work full time and part time on the weekends, put on a happy face to the world.  I had some bad moments where I was responsible.  I had terrible moments that I was not.  I was out of my abusive co-dependent marriage, but having withdrawals from the tiny crumbs of love that was all I had received for the last 27 years. I was 25 pounds overweight. My medicine was causing trouble and I was drinking a bottle of wine every night.  To add to this pile of misery was my constant drive for perfection in everything from work, family and even the speed of my recovery.  I was a mess.

Now to the present. I am 25 pounds lighter, no more drinking wine every night, medicine stable and relationships repaired.

I’ve still got a ton to fix, but I’m finally coming out the other end and I can tell my stories with humor again.  I can write how I fixed and am fixing so many things.

The most important indication of my new found hope was changing all my passwords to happy words with exclamation marks!

I’ll Take It

Yesterday, I had a student guess my age at 35. Granted, it came from a 13 year old boy, but at 51, I let my self enjoy it for a minute!