Daily Archives: October 16, 2016
Feminine Collective published Good Enough Mothering, a poem of mine about mothering a migraineur. Check it out.Filed under: Caregiving, Motherhood, Parenting, Self care Tagged: codependence, exhaustion, migraine, migraineur
While I’m waiting for this case of flu to blow over, I may as well write something.
I had a dreadful experience in the Land of Cleve, which I will write about as soon as I get un-triggered enough to be capable of writing more than ba-ba-baaaa-baba-baaaaa…see what I mean?
And the root of it all is shame.
Shame that after surviving a childhood of violence, confusion, loneliness, and fear, surviving rape, prostitution, homelessness, and fear, pulling it together and getting successful in art, music, and medicine, shame that after all those shooting star successful years, I’m still broken, more broken even than before.
Shame that at the age of 63 I am homeless.
Don’t think for a moment that my fancy camper van and my (to quote my dear mother) “fat disability check” means I am not homeless.
“Don’t say homeless, say house-free,” sage advice from just another such as me.
Don’t believe it.
I know what it’s like to have a home. I’ve had them, from time to time. They just don’t stick.
I can’t stay anywhere, because she will find me. She will drag me out from under the bed where I am hiding…so I have to move. I have to run.
I can’t stay anywhere, because he will hit on me, he will sell me to his friends while I am knocked out on Angel Dust that he put in my joint…I can’t stay here, because the cops will find me. You don’t have to be pretty for the cops to like to play with you but it helps, sometimes in a good way and sometimes not…
Such a shame, she’s got all these degrees and doesn’t use them, just sits on her ass all day….
Shame can drive you to despair, makes you want to disappear, but where?
If I were well, I’d go back to work
Publish my books
Find some friends
Get a life
If I were well, there’s a lot I could do.
Now it has to be good enough just to deal with the stares.
Yes, it’s that bad. I try to fix myself up so I don’t look so crazy as all that, but lately (I think it’s the limp now, from the sciatica, it’s killing me) I’m noticing…maybe I should buy some new clothes. I hate throwing out perfectly good clothes. OK, they have holes, and when you live outside, you’re bound to get dirty.
Maybe I should cut my hair. Even when I braid it, it ends up all wispy and wild.
Maybe I should….
I hope this doesn’t last too much longer.
In the classical Five Stages of Grieving, depression is the fourth, right before acceptance. For me, in the Five (or however many) stages of depression, the first stage is (duh) depression. I guess the next four would be immobility, numbness, despair, and Total Meltdown.
Right now I would have to say that I am somewhere between depression and immobility. I got out of bed for a few hours today, and I am writing this. I managed to get a big project done before this bout of depression hit, which was a Good Thing. I also now have a good supply of meds on hand, which is, I think, an Even Better Thing.
The Best Thing is that I have Dan, my husband. He just made sure I got a hot meal and is now giving me space and alone time, which is what I need more than attempts at engagement. And a cat just licked my face, which would be comforting if he hadn’t just been licking his butt.
As Jenny Lawson says, depression lies. Right now it’s telling me I’m useless, helpless, guilty, and ashamed. I hope that at least some of these are lies, though at the moment they’re what my brain is telling me is true. Then add in a large helping of catastrophizing, which at the moment is more likely to happen than not. I can’t see a way out.
Since I’ve been through this process before, I know the things that will help (at least a little) and those that won’t. I’ll try to keep my brain engaged enough to continue writing, and I’ll try to intersperse the doom and gloom with some ideas I made notes on before all this hit. I feel a responsibility to this blog and its readers to keep the thing going as best I can.
Based on my estimate, this episode is likely to last a minimum of two months. Maybe this time I can stop the slide before Total Meltdown. Wish me luck.
Filed under: Mental Health Tagged: anxiety, being overwhelmed, bipolar disorder, blogging, depression, husband, mental illness, my experiences, psychological pain, psychotropic drugs, support systems, writing
The pot definitely stops me from writing the way I should. I didn’t even post yesterday and it didn’t even bother me until right now.
My husband is sick. I hope he doesn’t give it to me.
See I got nothing to write.