Please let’s not talk about the weather

This is an all over the place kind of post.

I suppose, first off, my mom is okay as far as I know– she was discharged from the hospital after an overnight with some treatment, but I haven’t talked to her.  My brother’s in touch with her.  I don’t think I’m going to be, anytime soon.  I have been pushing her to get this problem dealt with for a really long time and she hasn’t, and I’m just furious– despite the fact that I know that she’s crazy, that she’s literally so nuts she can’t hear anything outside the stories she needs to write for herself in her own head– that she can’t trust or listen to me.  (Even if she lies and says that she does because she knows I am angry at her and that makes her uncomfortable because it doesn’t fit into the story she tells herself about us.)  I had a talk with my new awesome therapist about it and clearly, still lots of work to slog through, but right now when he asks me the question– what do I want from her?  The answer is nothing, because I won’t get the things that I want.  I won’t get an apology.  I won’t get someone respectful of boundaries or attentive to my interests and issues, much less aware that I am a distinct intellectual entity.  So, sadly, what I want from her is, precisely, nothing for as long as that can be maintained, because her refusal to trust, to listen, to acknowledge the adult competencies she herself thrust upon me by her infantilizing, victimizing behavior and her need to nevertheless whine to me because she somehow things that we’re friends or I’m her mother?  It’s too much to bear.  The only resolution is no.  I feel bad my brother gets to deal with her, but then again, I do get my dad, and he does infuriate my brother in a way I mostly ignore or poke right back on.  Even trade?

I will help with any legal or medical matters, either at hospitalization, institutionalization, or death, but I can’t bring myself at this point to bear more.  I can only turn off my furiousness at her when I have to put on my I WILL FIX EVERYTHING HAT, the one she forced me to wear as a child, and then I will high tail it out of there to get fucking drunk off my ass– one of those rare times.

I have been debating if my creeping anguish and apathy and everything everything everything has been SAD, too much work, too much stress from my dad, some institutional problems at work that need active rooting out and more support than I’ve had but some of which may change soon– not enough therapy, or all of those things.  It’s just been getting worse, though, and while there are lights in the darkness I am starting to dread going into work, getting snarly, putting off yucky projects, and feeling generally hateful of everyone and everything.  I talked to my personal boss (rather than my store boss) about it and that I wasn’t sure what I needed quite yet but that I was feeling messy and I might need a little time off– she was supportive and when I offered with my heart in my mouth that I felt like I generally knew what I was doing, she agreed– but it’s going to be weeks before the institutional stuff at work is fixed and I’m in no place to have the patience to explain myself without starting to cry or just be a horrible beast.  (Which I can’t be, because I am the one who’s supposed to be the source of counsel.)

I have been dealing with being crazy for a while now.  I suppose this is “easier,” in that I haven’t messed anything up yet, I asked a boss for help and she said “whatever you want,” and while my plans to leave early when completely to shit because of said institutional problems, a few more perceptive coworkers saw I was in a really bad mood/didn’t look right and slowed their roll long enough to ask if I was okay.  I even was honest with a few of then and said “No, but thanks for asking.”  But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m so depressed and feeling isolated and lonely that I feel incapable and in need of a goddamned parade and a hug from everyone in the store and I KNOW I am overreacting to stuff– and I am afraid if I take time off, I won’t come back.  I need this job, this one in particular, plus the money is good, because even if I am getting fed up with the store, I like the company and I have plans for regional and eventually global domination.  And I don’t want to start over again, much less be angry and sad all the time.

Almost as a one-off, my new therapist asked me if maybe my meds needed tweaking once we ran through the was I eating & more or less sleeping routine, and OF FUCKING COURSE.  Lots of carb cravings, increased appetite (when they work, my meds make me very unhungry and anorexic in the clinical “lack of appetite” sense), mixed anger and sadness, no sense of humor, no time for any small talk or bullshit (and rage at any waste of my time) apathy, procrastination, anxiety, increased sleeplessness & anxiety dreams– and I’m so used to my old therapist being all MEDS AREN’T THE ANSWER that I haven’t been thinking that way.  (Maybe I should report her to the board of licensing, bullshit billing crap to the side.)  It’s been 5 years on this regimen, wellbutrin plus an antiepilectic and klonopin– it stands to measure that the SSRI has ceased to be effective, in the way that they do for bipolars, and that I need to wean myself off the wellbutrin and try something else.  (Yay, rapid cycling mixed states, kept under moderate control?)

Soooooo… do I work during that time?  In a fit of wisdom, I signed up for short term disability at annual enrollment, and I am sure that my therapist would write me a note, and that I could wrangle my shrink into writing something as well, though I don’t see her as much except for refills.  (And I should call her this weekend to set up a check in appointment for sooner/this week.)  I am worried the place would burn to the ground in my absence, but at the same time one of my institutional problems is people both taking me for granted and not paying attention, so maybe it would serve the damned bastards right.  I am concerned, though, about stigma when I return, and yet– if I can’t take the time off to get my shit together at a place like my current employer, then there’s no hope for anyone, anywhere, ever.

It’ll be spring sooner or later.  I’m just worried it won’t be soon enough, and after 5 years on this regimen, I have lots of worries about starting new meds and seeing how they will work.

Change is good– it has been.  I fucking hate it anyway.

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