I am not the world’s greatest daughter, as evidenced by these posts and my crazy brain. My family is dealing with a tremendous amount of weight, as we try to get the care my mother needs while keeping my father as far away from her as possible, as he only sees her disease as an impediment in his life. Same old story, new day.
I received a voice mail from them last night. It was all static. I had no idea what was said and I was terrified to call back because: I did not know who I would be talking to; I did not know if my mother had died; I did not know if my father was playing his games and looking for allies or trying to bully me into moving back home to take care of them. I know nothing anymore, and for someone with my disease, this is not a good thing…
All I know is today my oldest sister and he have an appointment with a doctor that is doubling her schedule with them in order to have yet another “come to jesus” discussion with my father and to try and make him understand that his life has to change. Good luck on that one. Or he could get banned from seeing his wife by Adult Protective Services. That is how bad it has gotten. And the not knowing is the worst.
Or perhaps the worst is I feel as if I am being banished or at least pushed out of “the loop” of information my siblings are sharing with one another. I feel like a pariah in their world. The “oh yeah, she’s still around. Do we have to tell her anything? What is the point? Does she even care?” Maybe none of them are thinking this, but this is what my brain does to me and I don’t know how to make it stop spinning the loop of this tape and feel like I still matter, in some infinitesimal way, to them. On one hand, I have spent my life running away from all of them – their insanity, my own feelings of feeling as if I never fit in, my own demons that over the years have beaten me down and made me feel less of who I could be, or at least thought I would one day become.
I just saw a post from the Law of Attraction that says, “Beautiful things happen when you distance yourself from negativity”…Maybe that’s what I am trying to do here. Build a hard shell or wall around myself so I don’t have to deal with all the crazymakers who are out there, fucking with my world – whether that be my immediate surroundings or the greater arena. All I know is that I cannot handle what is happening and being alone, with few people who will update me, just to let me know what the fuck is happening, is causing the eddy to start to form. My feet are in the water and I can feel its torrent trying to bring me down into its depths.
But once again, as with so many times in my life, I am not allowed to show “emotion”. I am not allowed to by anything but perfect as I go throughout the hellish 8-hour work day, before I can hole up in my safe place again and can shut the world out. It’s only Monday. I made it through the weekend by burying my head in the sand, and am going to great lengths to focus on what I “should” be doing at work. But ultimately, I no longer give a fuck. This industry is not what I wanted when I entered it, and although I have been trying for what seems like years, I cannot find a comfortable roost in it, nor a creative outlet to let myself shine. I believed, foolishly, that this place would be different. That I was wanted here. That I would be happy and enjoy waking up every morning. That has been anything but the case. So, Sunday nights roll around, and I find myself taking more benzos than I have been prescribed as my daily dose, just to keep the panic and the sense of impending doom away.
I hate living this way. I hate the unknown. Ironically, if you put me on a plane with a backpack and I landed in some foreign country, I would feel less alone than I do now. I would be able to be anonymous, free from my past, and absorb a new world, a new life. And I would be fine with that unknown. This is something my soul is desperately crying out for…It is simply dealing with the day-to-day struggles of a boring routine and pressures from those who I am tethered to, whether by blood or emotionally, that I cannot take right now.
And so I sit alone, again, in my office. Pounding on the keys of my computer as my brain stagnates from a profession I no longer care for. Or at least, I do not like what it has become. I do not like what my life has become, but even though I try my damnedest, I cannot escape this maze of racing thoughts, unknowns, and expectations. I am stuck and I don’t know what to do.
The waiting is the hardest part. There’s no doubting that. And if you are unfortunate enough to have a brain as twisted as mine, where neurotransmitters do not fire correctly, even when you take the goddamn medicine you’ve been taking for 20 years, it is a life of agony. Stress only makes it worse and increases all the symptoms – whether you are depressed or manic.
I just want some goddamn answers. I want to know I am not a pariah. Is that TOO much to ask?
© Sorrow & Kindness