Yesterday was tough, but J made it through. I lay in bed and snuggled with her at the end of the day. Sometimes I just hold her, because I have nothing more to offer. I feel so incompetent. I’m the mother, you know? The one who can leap tall buildings, wipe the tears, kiss the boo-boo, and make everything better; all while cooking dinner and folding a load of clothes, of course. But this- this is something I cannot fix. So I hold her, murmur soft, meaningless words, and WILL her to feel better.
She finally fell asleep. This morning, she was still shaky, but decided to go to work. She sent me a text two hours later saying that she was feeling better.
Just like that: crisis diverted. Or delayed. Because it will happen; it will be back. But for now, I will enjoy this moment. She is smiling, not too much, not too little, but just right.
Notifications January 30, 2013
Okay, WordPress…WTH??? I am getting notification messages when I reply to the comments ON MY OWN POSTS!! I thought I suddenly got popular with all of those new comments, but it was only ME!!! What a let-down!
It’s back. Out of the blue, for no reason, it’s back. What is “it”?, you ask? The bipolar demon my daughter fights every day.
We had a good run. It has been a nice couple of weeks. J attempted suicide right before Christmas and struggled her way through the holidays. She began intensive therapy in January, and that seemed to help some. From the second week of January until about a week ago, things were as even and normal as we have around here. I began to notice some mania last week…nothing over the top, but clear indicators. We talked about it, she agreed and saw the signs. She even began making really good choice to counteract the mania, such as going to bed on time, eating better, exercising, and of course, taking her meds. None of it was enough.
When I found out J got her nose pierced after telling me she was going out for coffee, I knew. Deep in my heart, the way a mother knows, I knew.
She refilled the Xanax prescription, but gave it to me. I keep the bottle hidden but give them to her when she needs help with her high levels of anxiety. She started having panic attacks yesterday. No reason, you know, that’s how those sneaky little devils are…they come out of nowhere and bite you in the ass. Today was even worse; she was at work and had multiple panic attacks, a severe migraine, a crying jag that she couldn’t shake, and an inability to maintain. I called hubs and had him bring her some Xanax to get her through the day. Coming home was not an option for her today, so she stuck it out.
She is now asleep. I’m pretty sure that bitch Depression has her in its nasty grip. We are back on the roller coaster ride again.
Truth is, I Resent Being the Impulse Police January 27, 2013
Okay, time for a little soul-searching. My daughter, J, told me she was going for coffee, then went out and got her nose pierced. What was my reaction? I was pissed. Let me explain.
J, age 25, lives with me because she cannot live on her own. She cannot handle her money, her actions, etc. due to her bipolar, eating disorder, and other assorted problems. She’s tried, many times, but she just is not ready. Money is still an issue even though she lives with me. We’ve tried all different ways, from me holding her money to her getting an allowance, but money is an issue for both of us and it causes great conflict between us. So when she runs off and spends money she doesn’t really have, it pisses me off.
It’s not the piercing. And before that, it wasn’t the tattoo(s). I have nothing against either one. I just get so damn angry when she does impulsive things, especially if it costs much money. She doesn’t think things through, she just does it.
Why am I so mad? I’m trying to be totally honest here. I think I am mad because….I see me. I see me doing impulsive things that I regret. I want more than that for her. I know that other people in my life have prevented me from doing some things I impulsively wanted to do; I try so hard to be that buffer for her. Someone has to be the voice of reason, the sanity that keeps her from doing some things. ( I once gave away most of my belongings because I wanted to hitchhike across the country. I even bought a sleeping bag. I still dream of that trip…)
I am also tired of being that voice of reason for her. I can barely be the voice of reason in my own head, and it is draining to constantly do it for her. I resent it. I resent being the “Impulse Police”. I can normally let the little things, like piercings, roll off of me. After all, what’s a little hole in her nose compared to, say, taking 1/2 bottle of pills? But sometimes, I find it hard to turn off the “Impulse Police”. And when I do, sometimes the results can be devastating.
Also, I think I am a little jealous. She is at an age where she can get away with doing a few impulsive, sometimes even reckless things. Me? I’m supposed to know better, so when I behave recklessly I just feel…stupid.
I actually like tats and piercings. So why do I react like some 90 year-old stuck-in-the-past grandmother when she gets them done? I don’t like that side of me because it is not reflective of how I really feel about it. That is something I need to work on.
Passion of Winter and Earth January 26, 2013
Winter slowly rakes his frozen nails
down Earth’s brown, sloping back
Earth trembles at his soft touch
afraid, yet excited, at what is yet to come
Winter gently blows his cool breath
against Earth’s lovely breasts
creating frost at each summit
Earth holds her breath, tingling, anticipating…
Snow drifts form
where their bodies join together
winds whip and whirl around them
an intense blizzard rages
as their passion builds and grows
Winter throws back his head and moans
as Earth bucks once more beneath him
the storm is over
only a few soft snowflakes left to fall
as the passion
between Winter and Earth