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.

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My Men

I’ve come to the conclusion that the men I choose in my life suck.

The first man to suck was the father of my oldest daughter.  I was just 20. He abandoned us when I gave birth.

The second man, the main man, was John my husband of 28 years.  He is a narcissist.

Unbelievably, I fell in love with the third man just this last July, Rick.  We had known each other since we were teenagers.  He popped up into my life and manipulated me to such a degree even the likes of John and the other guy had never seen.

When the lies were revealed to me I deleted all his texts, photos, etc.  He has only tried to reach me once the next morning and haven’t heard from him since.  There is so much more to this story than the few sentences I have written.  I am so upset by his betrayal that I’m not even able to write about it fully.

My therapist warned me to go slowly.  I honestly tried.  At first I thought I was.  I think my perception of slow is different from other people’s.  It must have something to do with a lifetime of running my four-day ultra-rapid cycling pattern.

I was going slow for me.

In addition to the hate for Rick,  and all the lies he told, I feel used.  I feel violated. I know that word it tossed around and has made us all insensitive to it, but I was in every sense of the word.  The situation this man caused was so horrible it made me miss John.  The night that the bottom fell out of this short relationship I stacked up my pillows in bed and tried to hug them like they were John.  That is so sad I’m tearing up remembering it.

For all the trash I talk about John, I miss him.  He always protected me.  Half the time he was what I needed protection from, but that’s how I felt even though it might not have been true.  It’s normal to still miss him.  I have a crazy unrealistic healing time schedule in my mind.

The advice I’ve been given is to feel what I’m feeling.  It doesn’t mean I want him back. I’ve cried on and off since last Monday.  I don’t even seem to be able to hold tears back even when I want to.  I cry because I miss John, I cry because Rick broke my heart.  I cry because I’m lonely.  I miss my oldest daughter and my son.  I’m crying now.  I’m just so sad.

I’ve got a long road.  I thought I could make it shorter, but it doesn’t work that way.

 

 

Another One of Those First World Problems

I feel complaining about insignificant things and labeling them “FWP” exonerates me from being a whiny spoiled person living in the best place in the world.  I’m also a jaded ex-catholic, so there is already a layer of guilt underneath everything I say and do.  

I want to post this for another reason.  With the hell I’ve been going through for the past year from medication side effects, divorce, being ostracized by my children and doing all of this in a delicate mental condition, I welcome superficial trivial problems. 

Here is one now:

Well, so far this is a very good day! I colored my hair this week from an online hair color boasting it is just like the professional color. I don’t know why I bother. The brown of my hair turned out beautifully but the white came out a light brownish reddish. Anyway……I used the last of my root concealer two days ago (forgot all about covering my roots on Tuesday and was out doing errands for four hours). Luckily I wasn’t aware so had all of the confidence of a good looking person. Back to my roots (pardon the pun) I was even debating wearing one of Allison’s hats to hit the Walgreens early before too many people were there to get a new can of concealer. In the bathroom I took one more last ditch effort, fingers crossed, to look in the bathroom closet.  There it was buried under cold medicine…..half a can!!!  Halejuha!

Dear Life:  please keep bringing on those kind of problems.  I really need a break.  xoxo

Necessity is the mother of invention.

I was cleaning out the bathroom drawers.  I have been accused in the past of throwing out things I shouldn’t have.  I can usually counter that accusation by finding the item in question.  I am the record holder of “Supreme Finder” title in our family.  I can find things without even looking or getting up.

As I said, I was cleaning the drawers in the bathroom vanity.  I pulled everything out first, cleaned the drawer and then put everything back in.   Well, almost everything. There were the loose tooth floss toothpick things, hair ties, stray, Q –tips, old toothbrushes, etc. Those I threw away.

The real danger came when I approached John’s drawer.  I pulled the drawer open and felt my blood run cool for just a moment.  Okay, that may have been my imagination, but you get the gist of the apprehension I was feeling.

In his drawer were razors, empty toothpaste tubes, used stray toothpick floss things, an old handle for the blinds, combs and a few pens.  Pretty straight forward I thought.  A no-brainer.  Ah, no.  Nothing is ever simple with John.   It is my fault.  I should’ve realized it.  I should have tried to get into his brain while I analyzed every piece of bathroom paraphernalia in his drawer.   Hindsight is 20/20.

The next day John casually asked me if I had seen a white pole when I was cleaning out the drawers.  I didn’t remember until a few minutes of thinking about it.

“Oh, yeah, I threw it away, ” I don’t know why I felt so confident in myself at that moment. It didn’t last long.

“I had made it into a handle for my razor so I could shave my back”, he said quite calmly.

“Oh no! I thought it was just an old pole!”, I cried (it was just an old pole).

He was very calm, unlike him calm and said, “It was the handle from a blind and the end was broken in just the right way so the razor handle fit.” I thought this was a little strange to invent something when he could have bought one.

My first response to a problem, especially when caused by me is to begin to solve it.   I took a handle from the blinds in the bedroom, no dice.  I took one from Allison’s room, no.  My last one was from the kitchen and it didn’t work.

I felt terrible, probably worse than the situation warranted (as is also my way), but I kept trying to fix what I had caused.  I think I was also trying to save face.  I had always heralded the fact that whatever I was accused of throwing away I had always found it and felt quite smug about it too.

My first line of defense was Amazon.  I looked for something to replace “the rod”.  I found two things, so I screen shot them and sent them to John.  He texted back saying “I will figure something else out”. Always the martyr.

I had an idea of going to ACE Hardware with the razor and getting a piece of pvc that it would fit into.   I could also get some plastic tubing.  I meant to go there twice, but I always ran out of time.  Yesterday I went to the bank, the post office, grocery store, etc. and I thought I could fit it in.  I was in the process of trying to convince myself to go when I had an epiphany.

I had found a replacement “razor pole” and he said thank you, but no.  My part was done. I can move on with the other 15- 29 things on my to do list.

Who was I trying to kid? Of course, I didn’t move on!  I went to ACE today and told the guy what I needed and what I needed it for.  I asked for pvc pipe and plastic tubing.  I got it home and after much filing, shoving and twisting etc., I got it to work!

Pheww, that was close!  I almost wasn’t able to move on with my life.


I’ve included the blueprint to the “razor pole”  below in case anyone is in need of such a high quality gadget.

IMG_1668

High quality blueprint

To be above all in levels of coolness, toughness, and swagger.

Allison has been in kind of a funk lately.  It’s her age, summer is too long, etc., etc.  I have (as is my way) been trying to fix the situation.  I get criticism from Allison that this is a “fault” of mine and sometimes she just wants to talk.  Point taken and so I usually stay silent.  Staying silent in the moment is one thing I can handle, but not trying to come up with a fix as soon as we stop having the conversation is another thing.

I have so many ideas and projects I want to do the list is ridiculously long.  I would have to hire an assistant to complete all of the fun things I want to do.  So in looking for something for Allison to pass the time, one thing I came upon was a great app called Stylebook.  It’s where you take photos of all your clothes and make your outfits for a whole week!  She was not interested.  I showed her how she can change photographs to really anything with Photoshop. Not interested.  I told her about a new Nintendo game app  where you have to find the Pokeman in real time, kind of like a treasure hunt.  Not interested.

Enter Tristan, my 20 year old son. I mentioned to him I had told Allison about the Nintendo app, but she was not interested.  I said it must have been the way I had explained it.  A few minutes later Tristan left and went into the living room where Allison was and this is what I heard:

“Hey, Allison, this game is superdope……”

I guess it is all in the delivery.

Going Underground

I have been underground again. I didn’t feel I had anything relevant to say for the last few months. I have a certain criteria* of the things I will post.

My post must be:

  1. interesting.
  2. have my unique point of view (I’ve finally put it to some good use).
  3. have an “END” or a clever phrase to wrap it up (wink).
  4. true.
  5. Anonymous. It cannot contain any details that would lead someone to figure out my real self. Literally my name, etc. I know I am either extremely egotistical or completely paranoid that anyone really cares, but nevertheless it is an issue.  I have remained incognito my entire life.  I think it is one of my “things” that no one except my immediate family knows the real me.  The crazy me.  The unbalanced me.  The totally fucking exhausted keeping up appearances me.

* There has been a flash flood of stories that meet my stringent criteria.  Tune in.

One Year Anniversary

An anniversary is coming up. It’s been almost a year since I filed for divorce from John. In some type of modern day miracle he met all of my demands to not go through with it.

I asked him to see a counselor. He did. I wanted a bank card with my name on it instead of always having to ask him for money. It was humiliating. He got one for me. I gave him a pretty lengthy list of behaviors he must change. He has. That’s the miracle!

I also wanted him to go to my therapist with me so she could explain my condition and what I needed from him. He came with me the next appointment. She explained the disorder and how it effects me.

So the question I have left for myself is…. was I wrong? Was he just acting like a narcissist, but not really one? That’s the best answer I have come up with. My mother was one. Maybe I am just extra sensitive. I think it also has a lot to do with age. John had treated me badly pretty much of our whole marriage. I don’t think the same approach would’ve worked with him 10 years ago.

Of course, there are problems. I am still in the habit of withdrawing. When I realize I’m doing that it takes all of my willpower and energy to make sure I reconnect with him. I do love him, I always have. At least now he is making it much easier.

One horrible thought keeps seeping in.  What has he been through living with me for 20 years, a mental case? Oh yeah, I am medicated now, but it has taken at least five years to even out my mood.  And even then I just suffered two major depressions in less than three months.  He has always hung in there.  Hanging in there emotionally abusing me, but none the less, stayed. I don’t have an answer.