In a few short hours, we are headed over the river and through the woods to grandparents' houses we a-go-go. We are leaving here today to go to my father and his current wife's house for lunch with the four of us and the two of them. Considering that my dad and I have not been in a social situation together with our spouses since we started therapy makes this prospect very tenuous. This is a high wired act, but the wire has been replaced by razor blades.
The past time my father and I were in therapy together about two months ago, I was forced to reveal an ugly secret about his wife that I swore I would take to my grave. After all, I hate the bitch, but she makes him happy. I am not going to pull any "Days of our Lives" crap and force him into a divorce. However, his wife has made it very clear that he either pick his kids or her. What a ho bag. She comes and breaks up our family and then screams bloody murder when we don't recognize her as the matriarch of our lives. Sorry, gal. We know you have a time limit and the clock is running. They have both been fixed and are in their 60's so she cannot produce a blood heir to come and take our place. But, she does have the "perfect" daughter. He has used her by lavishing trips all over the world and spending holidays with her in place of the two kids that he has.
Now let me be straight with you. We are no picnic. My brother is unemployed, bipolar, and lives off my dad in Cali. I make him go to therapy in order to attempt to have someone mediate our disagreements and beat some sense into him. My plan is not working. This means that I have to face the wicked witch of east Cobb county to try to get a toehold with my dad. I am not looking forward to it. It literally makes me puke with anxiety. This woman sets off more red flags to me than the Indy 500. I just don't know how much strength I have to fight a losing battle. You may ask, "Why is it a losing battle?" Linda drinks and does drugs the extent of which I do not know. She is a vicious and mean drunk at times and this brings up all kids of bad luggage from my childhood. I feel like my dad married my mom all over again. With whom, I have not spoken in years.
While my father was never much of a strong physical presence in my life, he is an indomnitable force of my conscious. This is a man who a B was never good enough for him. only the best worked for him. So, I married a great guy and my dad thinks he is off the hook in the parenting department. he proceeds to ruin his marriage and his business all for the whims of this woman. I hesitate to claim her as a member of my gender because I find women like her a total and complete discredit to my gender. I do not discount her suffering and that she earns a gold star for getting my dad through chemo. The truth of the matter is that she is a yellow bellied sap sucker, to use the words of Mark Twain. She feeds my father lie after lie concerning me and the girls and being pussy flavored, he eats it up. It hurts to debase my father like this, but it is the truth.
My father's calling card is money. It is his lifeline to those he loves. I hesitated as to whether or not I was going to skip the quoyes on that last part. I am feeling generous.
I have fought for the right to to see my father at a major holiday. When this came up, I could not ignore it or pass it up. If my father is going to get to know my children it is one wat and one way alone, through constant contact, He has not seen my girls in a year. My ever astute 2 year old knows it, too. She stopped asking about the man in the picture and why he did not visit her. Tonight, she said, "Mommy, I don't want to see Poppa, he talks mean to my moomy and makes her sad." Wow, out of the mouths of babes...
The therapist my father and I saw said that she could not understand why I don't just ditch him. My response? "He's my father." I don't have a mother, or even a strong maternal figure currently with the exception of Nancy. The irony being that he brow beat me into accepting Nancy as the maternal figure in my life. He got his wish. But then he wanted me to cast her out in favor of wife number 3. So, my daddy's it. We will save the brother drama for another post.
I keep hoping this guy is going to wake up and see the value my children add to anyone's lives. For as much as i have been a screw up in my life, I am most proud of my kids. They have their moments like all toddlers. But they are good girls. I gear the most for Katie's relationship with him because she so seeks love and approval of those in her life who are authority figures. He needs to see that especially at this age, it is about more tha in buying them shit.
I will alwats wait for him. Hand outstretched, invitaation made, finding his spot on the ppath that brings him along comfortable.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Been Awhile!
So, here it goes, my mental diarrhea that comes with insomnia, facing what I have been up to mentally the last month, and oh yeah, Thanksgiving with my doubly divorced and remarried parents/ nonparents for tomorrow.
I'll start with me. I have been in a bad place with depression and its fun twin anxiety. I had never really known this happy-go-lucky playmate, anxiety, before these past few weeks. I can think of exceptions to that being performance anxiety before opening night of a show, if I was any good in the thing. I had anxiety the night before my second kid was to be born. (The first one, I was wrapped up in contractions and willing her to stay inside for another few hours.) I had anxiety when I had to face up to consequences for something bad I had done and I had been made to think about it and ponder my fate. But, overall, this guy was not someone i had ever hung with to say that i knew him like I know depression- buds since kindergarten.
I have been seeing a therapist for the last couple of months. I am being nice and sharing him with my husband in the attempts we make at marital harmony. He has been trying to convince me since day one in his office that meds are a good idea. I have been HIGHLY resistant up until now for the following reasons:
Then the disconnect happened.
I had felt it coming on for about 10 days and had tried and tried to warn Will that it was coming and to get to higher ground. Do something, whatever you can, but there is no stopping it. It happened though. He bore the brunt of it as he always does. He gets his shit, the kids' shit, my friends' shit, and my family's shit all rolled into one thrown at him at a high velocity and I keep telling him to move away from the fan instead of in its path. For me, the disconnect was not only a physical and emotional thing, but highly visual. I could see my mind cutting the mooring ropes to my heart and casting off. They had separated and ceased communication. That meant that any of the tender gestures or apologies that would be made, would be processed by my sensory organs, who then translates those signals via the brain. Ain't no connection to the heart anywhere in there.
So, I kept on with life and trying to go to marriage counseling. Then, last week, I had my first panic attack in my life and I am sure that I am having a heart attack. I had been dead asleep next to my eldest child when I suddenly awoke with what felt like a gorilla sitting on my chest, I could not breath, my blood pressure was through the roof, and my heart was pounding like mad. I was covered in sweat. It had been a pretty hectic time at out house but thought I was handling it OK. The attack proved it was not being handled well by my vessel at all. I have now started having daily anxiety attacks that can be as minor as a stomach ache and knots in my shoulders to hallucinations, migraines, and chronic shaking.
I now do not have a choice. I had to had the intervention of medication so that I can be a functioning human being and a decent parent. I try to tell myself that i may not have to do this forever. The truth of the matter is that I probably will. I need to accept it and be ok with it.
Speaking of meds, I have taken the last sleeping pill in my presence and yet I am awake blogging. I still have to get through the cathartic post about my dad before tomorrow.
I am going to get dressed and go in search of lung cancer. I will then start out on the elektra complex post from Hell.
I have chosen to stay sober throughout this ordeal. Mainly because I have this nasty family history. It will also prepare me well for taking meds that do not mix well. Besides the nasty orange label on the side of the bottle telling me not to mix these drugs with alcohol, I cannot find any real info on the web for social drinking and how it impacts the medications. once again, I am putting the cart before the horse.
I'll start with me. I have been in a bad place with depression and its fun twin anxiety. I had never really known this happy-go-lucky playmate, anxiety, before these past few weeks. I can think of exceptions to that being performance anxiety before opening night of a show, if I was any good in the thing. I had anxiety the night before my second kid was to be born. (The first one, I was wrapped up in contractions and willing her to stay inside for another few hours.) I had anxiety when I had to face up to consequences for something bad I had done and I had been made to think about it and ponder my fate. But, overall, this guy was not someone i had ever hung with to say that i knew him like I know depression- buds since kindergarten.
I have been seeing a therapist for the last couple of months. I am being nice and sharing him with my husband in the attempts we make at marital harmony. He has been trying to convince me since day one in his office that meds are a good idea. I have been HIGHLY resistant up until now for the following reasons:
- I have taken them in the past with negative outcomes that are a minor annoyance i.e. lack of sex drive, weight issue, sleep issues
- I have taken them in the past with major fucking side effects i.e. made me go from depressed to psychotic and suicidal
- I don't think that there needs to be a pill that makes you happy. We are so lazy as a society that we have a market that the drug companies happily fill with happy pill. Over half of America takes this stuff. Who says that slightly moody, annoying, and occasionally disgruntled doesn't suit others besides Donald Trump, Andy Rooney, and Oscar the Grouch? Come on! I know people who have made it their lives' works to make sure and earn the curmudgeon of the year award.
- I think that this is the way God made us. To paraphrase C.S. Lewis, God uses pain to mold and shape us into the human beings we are today. Pain is God's megaphone for rousing a deaf world. So, there is my religious ground.
- I do not really do anything with the creative talents God has given me, but for whatever little bit of voice that is inside of me, I know the drugs will shut her up. There will not be anymore writing for anything other than basic journaling noting the weather and a new recipe the lady at the meat counter gave me.
Then the disconnect happened.
I had felt it coming on for about 10 days and had tried and tried to warn Will that it was coming and to get to higher ground. Do something, whatever you can, but there is no stopping it. It happened though. He bore the brunt of it as he always does. He gets his shit, the kids' shit, my friends' shit, and my family's shit all rolled into one thrown at him at a high velocity and I keep telling him to move away from the fan instead of in its path. For me, the disconnect was not only a physical and emotional thing, but highly visual. I could see my mind cutting the mooring ropes to my heart and casting off. They had separated and ceased communication. That meant that any of the tender gestures or apologies that would be made, would be processed by my sensory organs, who then translates those signals via the brain. Ain't no connection to the heart anywhere in there.
So, I kept on with life and trying to go to marriage counseling. Then, last week, I had my first panic attack in my life and I am sure that I am having a heart attack. I had been dead asleep next to my eldest child when I suddenly awoke with what felt like a gorilla sitting on my chest, I could not breath, my blood pressure was through the roof, and my heart was pounding like mad. I was covered in sweat. It had been a pretty hectic time at out house but thought I was handling it OK. The attack proved it was not being handled well by my vessel at all. I have now started having daily anxiety attacks that can be as minor as a stomach ache and knots in my shoulders to hallucinations, migraines, and chronic shaking.
I now do not have a choice. I had to had the intervention of medication so that I can be a functioning human being and a decent parent. I try to tell myself that i may not have to do this forever. The truth of the matter is that I probably will. I need to accept it and be ok with it.
Speaking of meds, I have taken the last sleeping pill in my presence and yet I am awake blogging. I still have to get through the cathartic post about my dad before tomorrow.
I am going to get dressed and go in search of lung cancer. I will then start out on the elektra complex post from Hell.
I have chosen to stay sober throughout this ordeal. Mainly because I have this nasty family history. It will also prepare me well for taking meds that do not mix well. Besides the nasty orange label on the side of the bottle telling me not to mix these drugs with alcohol, I cannot find any real info on the web for social drinking and how it impacts the medications. once again, I am putting the cart before the horse.
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