Vomit
I have been neglecting writing my blog because when I sit down to write about what is going on in my life; I realize that NOTHING is happening to me. Everything in my life, all of my stress and frustrations and stories are about other people. I accept this and I tend to hold back from writing because, what is the point?
Mom had a TIA attack this weekend. They call it several things, but it all boils down to being a ‘mini-stroke.’ It is the same experience of a stroke, but without the lasting effects. There are all kinds of numbers and facts that basically say that a stroke is imminent. Maybe it won’t be this month, or next month, or even this year, but 20% of people who have a TIA will experience a full-on stroke within two years. My mom is 52 years old.
There are times, with my mom’s health, where it can feel like a grab-bag of “What the Fuck Will Kill Her.” I hate that thought. I hate that I can spend my time staring at her as though she is an activated bomb and I just don’t know when the time will run out. I want to enjoy the time that we have, now, but she is as she has always been and sometimes getting her to relax and enjoy life is hard. There is so much time and energy wasted on what she doesn’t have that there is little joy within her and I tend to follow suit. It is stupid.
I want my daughter to know my mother, but I know that there is a good chance that Mazzy won’t have long with Mom. I just wish that Mom would put more of herself in her relationship with Mazzy.
I feel rather alone in all of this right now. I am unable, of course, to rely on my brother for emotional support and I really need it right now. Not that I would appreciate it. I all broken and hurt inside and I just want that ache to go away. I feel like I am failing.
Watching my daughter is a blessing. I don’t like that phrase. I don’t like that immersed short-sidedness that comes with being a parent, but I acknowledge that I suffer the same fate as most people who idolize their children. My daughter is perfect. I don’t mean to say that she never misbehaves, or is a genius, but she is definitely exactly what I need in a daughter. She is exactly what my husband needs in a daughter. We are so very lucky to have this experience. I know that, for me, it is as though she was always here. She meshes so well with our lives and our temperaments that I truly couldn’t see another child in the mix. Ridiculous, right?
The last few weeks my house has been quiet during the day. My sister-in-law moved in with her mom and took the kids with her. The change was hard, at first, because I have had too much time inside my head. I don’t know what sorts of conversations you have with yourself, but mine are always bleak and hopeless with a heavy emphasis on failure and pointlessness. I am fully aware that I make myself obligated to people and situations because I need to feel useful. I don’t have enough self-worth to believe myself good without constantly doing something for other people.
I don’t even think I have the energy to resent it anymore. At this point in my depression, I would be lost if I didn’t have people who relied on me. I stopped dreaming a while ago. I don’t know how or when it happened, but I don’t have a future. I have things that must be done in the future, but they aren’t dreams. I don’t have any idea what color I would paint the house. Or how I want my hair cut. I don’t know what sort of ‘look’ I want to give Mazzy or how I would like to influence her. I don’t know what I am going to prepare for the holidays or what clothes I want to buy. I don’t know when I want to pick a movie for Mazzy or when I would like her to have a play date. I don’t care. I don’t care what my future is because when I have dreams, my obligations overwhelm them and plans change anyway. Isn’t it better to find peace with the life that you have? I am not so angry. I am not constantly hurt because I can’t achieve my grandiose ideas of who I should be. I am a mother. A wife. Anything else is merely PR, right?
No, I don’t want to get out of bed. No, I don’t want to answer the phone. I don’t care to bathe or brush my teeth or laugh or watch TV. I know that these things are expected of me, so I do them. I make dinner and send flirty text messages to Adam. I fold laundry while singing to Mazzy silly songs that I make up because I don’t know the words to anything. I return phone calls and I listen to my friends and loved ones and I know that I am not fooling anyone. What is there to worry about? I am too driven by guilt and being reliable to other people that I will still do what needs to be done, so what does any of it matter?
I go to work tonight. I am relieved to have a job because the few hours that I put in at the coffee mines pay for groceries for my family. It has a point. Besides, I wasn’t doing anything with the time anyway. I contribute. I am useful.
Mom had a TIA attack this weekend. They call it several things, but it all boils down to being a ‘mini-stroke.’ It is the same experience of a stroke, but without the lasting effects. There are all kinds of numbers and facts that basically say that a stroke is imminent. Maybe it won’t be this month, or next month, or even this year, but 20% of people who have a TIA will experience a full-on stroke within two years. My mom is 52 years old.
There are times, with my mom’s health, where it can feel like a grab-bag of “What the Fuck Will Kill Her.” I hate that thought. I hate that I can spend my time staring at her as though she is an activated bomb and I just don’t know when the time will run out. I want to enjoy the time that we have, now, but she is as she has always been and sometimes getting her to relax and enjoy life is hard. There is so much time and energy wasted on what she doesn’t have that there is little joy within her and I tend to follow suit. It is stupid.
I want my daughter to know my mother, but I know that there is a good chance that Mazzy won’t have long with Mom. I just wish that Mom would put more of herself in her relationship with Mazzy.
I feel rather alone in all of this right now. I am unable, of course, to rely on my brother for emotional support and I really need it right now. Not that I would appreciate it. I all broken and hurt inside and I just want that ache to go away. I feel like I am failing.
Watching my daughter is a blessing. I don’t like that phrase. I don’t like that immersed short-sidedness that comes with being a parent, but I acknowledge that I suffer the same fate as most people who idolize their children. My daughter is perfect. I don’t mean to say that she never misbehaves, or is a genius, but she is definitely exactly what I need in a daughter. She is exactly what my husband needs in a daughter. We are so very lucky to have this experience. I know that, for me, it is as though she was always here. She meshes so well with our lives and our temperaments that I truly couldn’t see another child in the mix. Ridiculous, right?
The last few weeks my house has been quiet during the day. My sister-in-law moved in with her mom and took the kids with her. The change was hard, at first, because I have had too much time inside my head. I don’t know what sorts of conversations you have with yourself, but mine are always bleak and hopeless with a heavy emphasis on failure and pointlessness. I am fully aware that I make myself obligated to people and situations because I need to feel useful. I don’t have enough self-worth to believe myself good without constantly doing something for other people.
I don’t even think I have the energy to resent it anymore. At this point in my depression, I would be lost if I didn’t have people who relied on me. I stopped dreaming a while ago. I don’t know how or when it happened, but I don’t have a future. I have things that must be done in the future, but they aren’t dreams. I don’t have any idea what color I would paint the house. Or how I want my hair cut. I don’t know what sort of ‘look’ I want to give Mazzy or how I would like to influence her. I don’t know what I am going to prepare for the holidays or what clothes I want to buy. I don’t know when I want to pick a movie for Mazzy or when I would like her to have a play date. I don’t care. I don’t care what my future is because when I have dreams, my obligations overwhelm them and plans change anyway. Isn’t it better to find peace with the life that you have? I am not so angry. I am not constantly hurt because I can’t achieve my grandiose ideas of who I should be. I am a mother. A wife. Anything else is merely PR, right?
No, I don’t want to get out of bed. No, I don’t want to answer the phone. I don’t care to bathe or brush my teeth or laugh or watch TV. I know that these things are expected of me, so I do them. I make dinner and send flirty text messages to Adam. I fold laundry while singing to Mazzy silly songs that I make up because I don’t know the words to anything. I return phone calls and I listen to my friends and loved ones and I know that I am not fooling anyone. What is there to worry about? I am too driven by guilt and being reliable to other people that I will still do what needs to be done, so what does any of it matter?
I go to work tonight. I am relieved to have a job because the few hours that I put in at the coffee mines pay for groceries for my family. It has a point. Besides, I wasn’t doing anything with the time anyway. I contribute. I am useful.
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