I’m Depressed

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I’m depressed. There. I said it. I’m depressed.

Frankly, it worries me as I have never allowed myself to go there. With so many people depending on me and a sister who spent time in a mental hospital; I have never before let myself plumb the depths of the despair I am feeling. However, now I am trying to give myself permission. Permission to explore what is on the other side of two years of marriage chaos and confusion. Permission to grieve for dreams that have been pushed aside by reality and for children who struggle due to the challenges of autism. Permission to just feel what I need to feel, even if it hurts. And permission to feel those deep rooted emotions and to not intellectualize my feelings as all the intellectualizing I do just makes me hurt worse.

I will confess this intense feeling of sadness scares me to my core. Not because I am afraid to feel those lows but because when you have had a family member who has experienced hospitalization due to her mental health issues and you have spent years dealing with hers…well, I just don’t want to put my family into that vat of pain and helplessness you can’t help but feel when surrounded with all of that. Yet, my therapist said to me that I have the skill set to survive if not thrive while looking at those things that make me uncomfortable and sad. And after reading Thomas Moore’s The Dark Night Of The Soul I know that there is plenty to be gained by going there for a brief respite. But still, I hesitate, my feet in cement for fear of going in too far or deep. For fear of becoming like my sister. Of letting people down.  Of not “performing” the requirements that are expected in this one act play that I am living.

I know I need to take a look at what is coming up from the depths of my soul. I know that I need to allow myself to feel these intense feelings. I suspect that it is similar to drilling for oil while trying to contain the amount that surfaces at one time. And its also acknowledging  that what comes up will have to be refined in different ways depending on how it will be used. And I acknowledge that any spills that occur will give me new skills to better contain the overflow the next time.

If I had my way I would stay in bed for a week and pull the covers over my head. I would play every sad song I have ever heard and have a Bailey’s on the rocks sitting on my bed stand sipping it over several hours. Oh hell, maybe I would guzzle it instead. That is what I wanted to do today. BUT…I had to make breakfast and lunch for everyone, take them to school, take a kid to the doctor and another to get her allergy shots. I had to wait for the dryer repairman, do the dishes, and mop the floor. I had to pay bills, get the oil changed and attend a meeting. Tomorrow it is more of the same.

So, here I sit, one toe half in and half out of this deep sadness. This depression. Perhaps if I am brave enough I will step on in and let it take me where I need to go.  To places I have never visited but probably should. Only afterwards will I understand that there are things to be gained from examining things below the surface. And who knows…I may just strike the motherlode while I am exploring with the sheets making the perfect tent in which to hide away from the world.

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Thoughts on “Maybe” Divorce

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“As you become more attached to yourself you will become less attached to the outcome,” my therapist says with a smile.

Sometimes I wonder about this statement. Although it seems true enough as I continue this journey of the “maybe divorce” sometimes I wonder if this attaching to yourself, this honoring your self and your desires, really means at some point that you just dial back the caring…maybe you just begin to not care anymore because the fight for keeping your marriage has cost you too much personally. Your anxiety has increased to the point that everyday you wake up wondering “if this is the day.” And while once I believed that this thought might kill me, now, sometimes, I just wonder if it would be a relief for it is difficult to live with a man who no longer loves you the way he wants to and the sadness plays out like recessed shadows etched deep into his face.

I know when this began two years ago I felt like the world was coming to an end. It seemed as though my heart was being ripped out of my chest and I couldn’t sleep at night. After all this time my anxiety about divorce and what it would do to my children has decreased but is it because I am working really hard on integrating all aspects of myself and discovering more about who I am or is it because I am shutting down? Perhaps I see the train wreck in the distance, so I move away, because I don’t want to witness the carnage firsthand. I also don’t want to deal with the repercussions that it might have on two boys with autism and one with mental health issues much less the fact that four of my children are adopted and have already suffered so much loss in their young lives.

And so I continue to work on myself. To find corners of sunlight and to open the shutters wide to let the sunshine flood into my life. I work to make myself more aware of what I am doing and why I am reacting in the ways that I do. I am practicing ways of building up my resilience and incorporating peaceful ways of thinking as a habit that I can rely on to keep me centered. And I am trying to learn not to allow negative self-talk rule my head and my heart even though it still wants to.

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So if this work, if all this trying to find better ways of attaching to myself, is going to make me wiser, happier and more peaceful; I am all for it. For I am becoming a better me and I am finally doing all of this psychological work for greater self understanding of what makes me tick.  And if the “maybe” divorce comes to pass I think I will be in a much better position to retain my own dignity and grace during the process. And for me, that is what is important.

So be it.

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Chiggers

 

My therapist tells me that I need to “just sit with it.”

Don’t make any decisions and don’t go planning out your entire life

In a moment of fear or concern

Just sit with it…listen to it

But how does one do that with this sort of news?

Because as I sit in the silence

Trying to meditate myself out of the place I am in

I hear the incessant buzzing of an annoying insect

Trying to tell me something

That I don’t want to hear

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Just sit with it…feel it

But instead I feel the sharp bites of chiggers

Trying to get my attention

Biting around my ankles

So I will get up and move

From this place that is suppose to be a refuge

Away from what is suppose to be a peaceful spot in my mind

While agreeing with myself that sitting with “it”

Is much too hard

I know I over think… over analyze

I have enough 20-year freeze dried food

In my pantry I feed us for a year

In case of a holocaust

I am prepared for every disaster, every emergency

Except this….not this

B says, “I don’t want to think about the future

I just want to live in today”

Smart man

I wish I were that way

Able to block out what I do not want to deal with

Or compartmentalize things in lockers so deep

You die with them stuffed deep inside

Locks rusty and worn but secure

Taking them with you

To God knows where

Maybe that is hell

Having to look at those items over and over again

The things you refused to see

When you were alive

The things you could change  but chose not to

Or maybe hell is that place

Where you go over your plans a million times

Trying to change the outcome

But are unable so you remain in that

State of anxiety for eternity

Neither sounds appealing

So I will go and get the bug spray

In an attempt to remove these distractions

And sit with “it”

In the silence

Alone

 

 

So Paul’s Therapist Says…

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So Paul’s therapist said to me yesterday, “I know you are not going to like this much, less want to do it, but you will have to do this so it gets through to Paul. If he attacks any member of the family you must (without telling him) call the police and have them take him to the hospital on a 5150. He is getting too big and he needs a reality check that if he hurts someone there are dire consequences. If you do not do this now at this age while he still has a chance as he ages he will be incorporating this behavior more and more into his life. You have got to try and stop it now.”

Hearing those words cut me. Deeply. Call the police on your own child. You must. You have to. It is your obligation. Failure to protect your other children charges could be brought against you if you don’t. He has to learn.

And so I “get” the logic I must ask … if he was rational I would agree. BUT if someone  is undergoing and episode of psychosis/mental illness how can they just stop themselves? Is it as easy as all that? I think not.

One of the things that scares me is that police will come to our door. What if Paul were to run, resist being taken or because he cannot stand being touched in certain ways..hits an officer? We all know what happens to minorities in these times of situations. Often they are seriously injured or they die. How do you risk this happening because a 14-year-old is in a rage?

Yes, I know it is what must be done but what unintended consequences might result? Could I live with these if something horrific happened because I picked up the phone? Could I live with these if something horrific happened because I didn’t pick up the phone?

How do you wrap your head around all of this without it destroying your soul? Without it destroying…you, relationships, your child and your heart?

Nothing makes this possibility better. Nothing. All it looks like is a long scary road which I do not want to take but will in order to try and save my son.