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I’ve been asleep.

Literally.

Since Thursday until yesterday (Sunday)

I was awake for a good portion of yesterday and actually managed to get one or two things done.  Nothing major, but still.

So I slept from Wednesday night till Sunday morning.  I woke up to pee and that was it.  No food, no drink.

Depression, how I hate thee.

We found out yesterday that J doesn’t want to talk to his father without the counsellor being present.  That counselling session is this Friday and we are leaving Thursday to drive the 650 miles to get there.  We don’t know what is going on.  It’s stuff like this that drives me to my bed.  I can’t stand not knowing something that pertains to me.  Although, by the same token, I know first hand how it is to be in a psych ward and not wanting to talk to my parents without that counselor present.  That buffer who won’t allow things to get out of hand.

The only thing that we can think of is that he is angry with me for finding the place he’s in and he’s angry with his father for putting him there (although he had to self-commit).  The statement that he’s mad at me for giving him money and asking him not to tell his father is crap.  I know it, hubby knows it, and I’m sure J knows it, too.  Something else is going on.

This amount of sleep though is completely unprecedented for me.  Three nights and two days.  About 56 hours total.  I really think that this is my body’s way of taking control and forcing a recuperation.  And I didn’t take my klonopin or my ambien.  This was straight up unassisted sleep.

Thank God I don’t have young children  that need to be taken care of.  I don’t know how people do it.  Morgue – I’m looking at you.

Anyway, we leave Thursday.  Since, I have been asked not to attend the therapy session on Friday, I will go see my grandmother (97 next month…wow).

This situation with J is dominating my thoughts.  I don’t seem able to push it aside.  I’m heartsick, I’m afraid, and I have no idea how we are going to make him see that a halfway house/transitional sober living are in his best interest.  Moving in with us, with three people always telling him what to do is not going to be useful.  We’ve pretty much accepted that.  We think a transitional home where he is responsible for himself, with oversight, is a better option.

Meanwhile, I’m fighting exhaustion, depression and anger.  I’m considering changing my therapy from twice a week back to three times a week.  There is just so much going on inside my brain as well as outside of my brain.  Thankfully, last week I just popped into my pdoc’s office and she happened to have a cancellation.  After hearing everything that is going on, she was more than happy to increase my klonopin.

I got hubby to help me finish putting the greenhouse together yesterday. It’s this nifty little thing we got at Home Depot.  It kept our minds temporarily out of thinking about J and it accomplished something out of the house.  We can’t do anything IN the house as we don’t know how things may have to be changed if we have no option other than to take J in.

Today, I’d like to get the shelves put together and then I will have somewhere to go hide when shit is too much for me.  Plus, I will have the added plus of growing some of our food.   Growing a beautiful bountiful garden was my initial desire, but I swear I’m looking more and more for somewhere to hide.

Maybe I could move Fort Blankie out there.

 

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