Aftermath

Tags

anger, anxiety, bipolar, coping skills, depression, Mental Health, Mental Illness, narcissism, Parents, self esteem, therapist, therapy, triggers

If you haven’t read I’m so stupid, or Standing on the edge you should before you read this.  I don’t have the stomach to repeat it right now, but you will need to know that before you read this.  Don’t worry, it’s short!  : )

I had a conversation with my therapist this morning about how does one exactly go about getting diagnosed with a narcissistic disorder.  I mean, they’re not about to come running to a shrink and say “I have mental problems!!!!!”  Although apparently every so often that does happen and the narc will try to outmaneuver the shrink to prove how smart they are. She kind of left it there because she (obviously) wanted to hear what was going on with my parents and my brother and me.

So I told her of the ill-fated phone call, the phone call that was guaranteed to fail from the outset.  Because these type of calls ALWAYS fail with my parents.  They are no more likely to take responsibility then I am to grow wings.  I told her of my mother’s lies, and I told her of my father’s blasé attitude towards my anger over him telling my brother he should have just committed suicide.

I told her about the story my brother and SIL had heard from a close family friend of the time my parents went to the friend’s house.  I was in a crib upstairs screaming bloody murder and my mother refused to check on me.  I told her about that friends opinion that my parents should never have been allowed to have children.

And my therapist said that she now understood why I have a hard time seeing my worth.

I came home and a few hours later the email I knew would come, came. A loooong email.  I caught her in 3 lies and at first when I was responding to her I addressed those three glaring problems.  But, then I realized that none of that mattered.  The only thing that mattered was that my father told my brother that he should have killed himself.

I responded thusly:

 Often when someone is suicidal they need to be forced to get help.  They need an action plan.  And they need people around them who won’t think that they are twisted and evil.  A year and a half ago when I was hospitalized it was because I wanted to kill myself, because I felt that Hubby would be better off without the mentally ill wife.  I was planning on driving my car into a tree and try to make it look like an accident so he would get the large life insurance policy he has on me through work.  This way he wouldn’t have to deal with the illness and would have the money to pay off the house and not worry about bills.  My therapist forced me to go to treatment. And when I was released Hubby wouldn’t let me drive myself anywhere for quite awhile.  

 

The time I was hospitalized before that I also wanted to kill myself.  I told BFF and she called Hubby and they took me to the hospital.  

 

When someone tells you the want to kill themselves and even have a plan you  DO NOT IGNORE IT and you absolutely DON’T TELL THEM TO GO AHEAD AND DO IT.  

He has brain damage and he absolutely suffers from depression and anxiety if not something more.  So if you can’t do better then tell him to go ahead and kill himself, then you should step out of his way.  Because it really doesn’t matter what you do for him, if you can’t help him WANT to live or at least get him to someone who can than you are NOT helping.

I know that there are more than one side to every story, but the part I’m worried about right now is the part where my brother wants to kill himself.  Because the story that you tell and the story that Brother tells are vastly different.  Vastly.  So I can’t concern myself with any part of the story except the part that I know is true, and the part, that quite frankly, makes me sick.  I’m not trying to upset you but I’m BEYOND furious right now.  

She wrote back, straight up telling me that since they aren’t his wife, there’s nothing they can do.

And I refuse to write her back.   I said my peace and I’m not getting sucked into this anymore than I have to.  It always ends badly so it may as well end now.

I’m talking with SIL and Brother and trying to make sure that things there are ok, because that is the part that matters.

Of course, my Bipolar and Anxiety are all OVER the freaking place.  But, at least I can console myself with the fact that a majority is triggered and will subside once the triggers do.

I did get to work on my garden today and that was very therapeutic.  I will soon be eating peas straight from the garden!  I can’t wait!

Picard is so smart

Tags

anti-depressant, image, suicide

I am so stupid

Tags

bipolar, depression, hypomania, Parents, stupid, suicide

I called my parents.

If you read my post earlier where I was feeling manic you can disregard that.  I feel like shit.  All I want to do is cry

The story my parents told could not have been more different than the one my brother told me.  The only thing that everyone agrees on is that my father told my brother that he should have killed himself.

Awesome.

And my father said that he apologized (I saw the apology…it was a text…and it was lame) and since you can’t take it back that should be the end of it.

So I guess that’s the end of it.

I was kind to my mother.  I asked if she was ok.  I wasn’t mean or bitchy or accusatory. But, according to my father “thanks for bringing it up because now she’s crying again”.

Fantastic.

I told my father that I have spent years wanting to kill myself (on and off) and that I’ve been hospitalized twice because the urge was too strong to resist.  “What do you want me to say?  I apologized” he said.

Told him it was the cruelest thing I could ever think of that someone could say to another person and he asked if I had anything else I wanted to talk about.

So I’m an idiot.  And I can’t stop crying, and I’m going to go lay down and watch reruns of the Walking Dead.

Fuck this shit.

Rapid Cycling!

Tags

bipolar, hypomania, rapid cycling

I’m up!  I’m down.  I’m up!  I’m down.

Today I’m up up up.  Hello Mania.  Again.  So soon!  I’m talking fast, I’m bossy, I’m animated, and I have energy to spare.  Hopefully this will get me a lot of work done today.

Of course, this cycling will get old fast.  It always does.  At least right now I seem to be switching day by day instead of multiple times PER day.  That is awful when it happens.

Today I’m just moving and moving and talking and talking and this will probably be a very short post because it it taking a lot of willpower to sit still.

I hope this doesn’t mean I have a HUGE splat coming!

 

 

Standing on the edge

Tags

anxiety, anxious, bipolar, Bipolar Depression, depression, furious, insomnia, sadness, suicial ideation

I don’t feel real today.

I’ve heard things over the last 24 hours that can’t be real.  It’s not possible that my father told my brother he should have just killed himself.

That can’t be real.

I only slept for 2 hours last night so it must be skewing my memory.

Hubby is bent out of shape that the bipolar has shifted into depressed gear.  He doesn’t understand why my mood should change on a dime for no reason whatsoever.  I’m with him on that.

Now he’s more bent out of shape because my parents are starting up again.

Except that according to my brother, they have been on him for awhile.  I’ve been in a state of reprieve that I mistook for growth and acceptance.  How do I keep messing that up?

I’m depressed.

I’m unbelievably sad.

I’m anxious that my parents will call and I will need to talk to them about this.

I’m furious that I’ve been fooled.  Again.

I’m exhausted.  Partly from lack of sleep, partly from depression.

I want to cry.

I hope I don’t cry because I may never stop.

The suicidal ideation always creeps in during these times and I don’t know how to stop it.

I’m safe.

But I’m so very very very low today.

Problem Child?

Tags

anger, anxiety, anxious, depression, Emotional Abuse, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Parents, suicidal ideation, suicidal thoughts, suicide

I don’t know how coherent this is going to be so please forgive me in advance.

Our parents gave us every advantage in life. And they worked their asses off to do it.  Both of them grew up poor.  Mother’s family was just straight up poor and Father’s father was a minister and while the church gave them a place to live, salary was sometimes paid in the form of chickens in the early years.  Plus, Poppop squirreled away cash when he got it.  They lived poor partially on purpose.  Which is a good thing because Mommom is now 97 and has money to live on.

But, my parents didn’t want to live poor, so they worked their asses off.  Father was a pharmacist and in the mid 70’s he was able to buy a drug store in a city an hour away from where we lived.  In the 80’s he bought out his partner.  Every day a 2 hour round trip, and when snow threatened he got a room in a hotel close to the store so he could open even in bad weather.  When I graduated from high school, they moved closer to the store and the house they built rivaled Tara from Gone with the Wind.

Brother and I had things growing up.  We got the gaming systems as they came out and we must have had 30 games for our Atari.  We got a computer in the 80’s.  We had piles of clothes, we went to a great school, I got a car when I turned 16.

But, underneath, we felt like nuisances.  Growing up was difficult for me and Brother.   The picture of the perfect family was complete and as long as you didn’t scratch the surface too hard, it held.  But dig just a little deeper and the dysfunction was blinding.

My mother is a masterful con artist.  She can take the words you say, twist them and hand them back to you and you will wonder why you were so horrible to say what you didn’t say. She also has the most amazing selective memory that I have ever encountered.

We were generally not spanked as children, although when we were Brother always got the belt.  Mother will tell you that we were never ever ever hit as children.  Ever.  However, I remember quite vividly cowering in a corner as she hit me over and over with the first thing her hands touched, which happened to be one of those heavy duty plastic brushes with the really stiff bristles.  My crime?  I wanted to explain myself.

I became a prolific liar.  We were never allowed to just talk to our parents.  We obey. Period.  End of story.  The word “why” would get you grounded for a month.  Trying to explain why you asked “why” would get you another month.  God forbid I was in a play during this time of grounding.  Days before the performances I would be told that I couldn’t perform.  I would say that I had some minor breakdowns back then.  I would always end up being able to go onstage but the stress I experienced waiting for permission was nearly more than I could handle.

I went to college.  I didn’t want to, but it wasn’t up to me.  I was the first person ever on my mother’s side of the family to have the opportunity, but I didn’t want it.  I had no idea what I wanted to do and I didn’t see the point on spending money on something that I didn’t want.  I joined a sorority because Mother wanted me to.  And I got tired of being lectured about it, so I joined one that was having a spring rush, so I didn’t have to go through all the craziness of full blown sorority rush season.  However, once I got there Mother didn’t want to pay the fees.  She did, but she bitched and moaned for months after she wrote the check.

Midway through the spring semester of my junior year, I quit school.  I didn’t tell my parents I was quitting, but I stopped going to classes and used my dorm room as a temporary place to stay until the semester ended.  I was burned out, and the latest disagreement between my parents and me ended with the following dictate.  “You will live at home during the summer and work.  You will follow the rules of our house.  And you will transfer to a local college and pay your own way”.  I figured if I was going to pay my own way, I may as well do it making myself happy.

I attempted suicide when I was a teenager.  I just took about 20 pills from my parents medicine cabinet.  I fell asleep, but I think most of them were probably vitamins or something else innocuous.  I didn’t tell them till I was much older.

My brother turned to drugs and was emancipated at 16.  To my parents credit, they did try to help him, but since they were a big part of the problem, that didn’t work so well.

I have managed to build my boundaries.  She still has the ability to send me from a room crying if she chooses to, but I keep rebuilding my boundaries (thank God for therapists) and they’ve been holding for a very long time.

But Brother called last night and everything came crashing down.  He has had a lot of legal problems recently.  He had gotten help from someone with his business and then this unscrupulous person sued my brother, saying that my brother was stealing and took him to court.  Legal fees ran high but the case was thrown out this week with prejudice (so this person cannot sue again).  Mother and Father said “oh..cool” when told about this victory. Brother had received a check from some job he had done and used it to pay a variety of bills he was behind with.  He went to my parent’s house last night to help them with something and he asked my father for advice.  Apparently assuming that Brother had blown his paycheck on crap, Father told Brother that he “didn’t know, maybe you should have just killed yourself.”

…..

…..

…..

Brother called me immediately to let me know what happened from his point of view. Because he wanted me to know the truth.  I don’t know what mangled version of this I’m going to receive from parents, but I’m devastated.  How dare ANYONE say that to another human being.  And to say it to your child????  I don’t even know what to do or to think. And I know that the conversation I end up having with my parents is going to be this completely messed up version of the events making my brother out to be a crazy lunatic.

And I don’t know if I’m strong enough to have the conversation in the first place.  I’m already in the depression slump of bipolar, but I only slept about 2 hours last night and I’ve got some kind of manic energy behind the tears right now.  It’s like I’m getting everything straightened up around the house so that when I’m forced to my bed, everything is done.  I’ve never experienced the nesting urge that pregnant women get, but I’d bet it feels something like this.

So, if you are still reading, I thank you.  I don’t think I’ve ever done a post this long.  And there is so much more to say.  The floodgates are open and I don’t know where this flood is going to carry me.

How low will it go?

Tags

bipolar, depression, hypomania, mania, Mental Health, Mental Illness

ugh

Happy Easter first off….I hope each and every one of you has a lovely day whether it’s your holiday or not.

So my mood is doing the limbo and the question currently is “How low will she go?”.  This crash is accompanied by general crabbiness, sadness and a serious desire to go back to bed and let someone else cook the ham.  I’m in no mood.  I have hopes though, that my mood won’t go super low because my hypo didn’t go super high.

I have noticed that when I’m hypomanic it’s easier to deal with.  I am figuring out ways to use the energy.  I’ve done some great baking and made a lot of progress with my garden.  And, if all else fails, I can take.5mg of klonopin to take the edge off.

But, the depression is so awful.  Some days are better than others, but this first day is sucking hard.  I want to cry, I want to go back to bed and I want to stay in bed.  A is calling us on Skype a little later with grandson and I don’t even care.  I wish I did, but I don’t.

I think that the frustration for me with the depression is that there is no rescue remedy.  If you are really anxious or really hypo or manic….there are rescue meds that you can take so things don’t get too far out of hand.  But, if you’re depressed…that’s it…you’re depressed. Whether there is truth in Big Pharma not wanting to cure diseases because it’s more profitable to treat than cure…I don’t know.  But, damn, can’t you make up something to pull us out of this horrible hole?  Like a fast-acting depression rescue med?

Well, tonight is Walking Dead and Talking Dead so at least there is good TV in my future.

Maybe I’ll spend tomorrow in bed.

Unless I feel better…which would be awesome.

Radical Acceptance

Tags

bipolar, depression, hypomania, mania, radical acceptance

One of the things that my therapist, Karen, and I have been working on recently is the concept of radical acceptance.  Actually, she’s been working on burning the concept into my brain and I’ve been working on trying not to forget.

If you are not familiar with the concept (I wasn’t), she explains that just because we accept something, doesn’t mean we have to like it.  We all do it all the time, but we don’t always do it consciously.  For instance, I am Mentally Ill.  I hate it.  I do not want to have Bipolar Disorder.  But no matter how much hate I throw at the situation it is what it is, and while I hate it, I accept it.  There is no other choice.  It is what it is.   Whether I am happy about it or not.

Depression comes after hypomania or mania for me.  I don’t have periods of stability.  I’m hypo or I’m depressed.  It is the way my bipolar works.  I’m working on radical acceptance for this and I’ve been working on it hard for awhile.  The fact is, the depression scares me, but I’m working at accepting it even though I hate it.  I’ll get better at it.  I have to.  The new med seems to be keeping my highs and lows less drastic and hopefully that is something that sticks, as it will make acceptance easier.  But, it is a radical acceptance.  I hate everything about it.

 

I Don’t Need To Respect Your Beliefs

This piece pretty much sums up what I think but have been unable to find clarity of thought to write. Thank you for this beautiful post!

Drifting Through

Right now everyone’s talking about beliefs. Beliefs that prompted the infamous Religious Freedom Act in Indiana last year, and last week’s Georgia’s Religious Freedom Bill and most recently North Carolina’s wide reaching and shocking HB 2, along with other similar initiatives that are peppering the country. Laws and bills aimed at limiting or taking away rights.

It’s supposedly all about beliefs. A conversation that has echoes of the not too distant past. Beliefs that are being recycled but not repurposed. A hand me down with historical context.

Beliefs are being held up and declared all while clutched in sweaty, angry fists. Beliefs are being trotted out like a prize pig at a State Fair.

So much talk of beliefs. And we all know that talk is the cheapest currency.

All of this talk is treading on some sacred ground. Beliefs (especially the religious kind) are for most of us a…

View original post 1,289 more words

A Tale Of A Few Kitties And A Car

Please please please if you can give even $5 it will be extremely appreciated

Take a Ride on My Mood Swing

I have revamped my fundraising campaign and I am just keeping it up until forced to take it down. This time…It’s for the cats. If that makes a difference, I will pay automotive stuff…Which means I am gonna need help with cat care.

Once winter is over,child support is sorted and regular, I don’t anticipate having this much trouble. Of course, I also didn’t expect this car to have more problems than a bunch of pregnant nuns. Probably looking at a grand easy in parts and labor, not to mention servitude to R.

So…Pass this one on. PLEASE, for the love of pegacorn.  Click that share button. Reblog. Write a big post about what a bitch I am whining for money. Because no press is bad press and it’s for the kitties.

Maybe I should just give it up but…Nah. If people can raise five grand so some girl…

View original post 39 more words