Rainey Daze and Crazy Nights

Poetry, Paintings, and Ponderings: Through My Eyes

Sunday Morning Update on the Family May 26, 2013

Happy Sunday morning! It is early morning here as I sit on the porch and drink my second cup of coffee. It’s a “linger and take small sips” kinda morning. The sun is shining but there is a cool crispness in the air. I hear the crow of the neighborhood rooster in the distance. He seems to insist for you to get up and start the day. A morning dove calls her lonely song out and other birds chirp “good mornings”.

I love that it is never quiet in the early morning hours. The sounds of nature put me at ease.

I haven’t done an update on my life in a while, so….

I’ve dealt with much anxiety in the past month, mostly over things of my own doing. <Heavy sigh.> Will I ever be able to stop making my own life hard? On a better note, school is out in 2 weeks and I will be home for a little while. I’m excited to have time to get a few things done for me. I’m no longer waiting for Hubs to do things, because it never happens. So, I will do it myself.

I’m not a church goer, so I will spend my day doing all those things that don’t get done during the workweek. Also, I don’t think I shared some wonderful news: my daughter S and her partner E just bought a house! It’s a cute old  house in the historic section of town. We are busy helping them move this weekend. It fills my heart with joy to see her so happy taking this step. To think she is only 24! She is so traditional in everything she does (except of course she happens to be gay.) I hope the wanderlust that plagues me never gets into her heart.

I also have exciting news about J (my daughter who has an eating disorder, bipolar, and anxiety issues). SHE STARTED BACK TO COLLAGE! She took the steps she needed to do to get financial aid and sign up for the courses she needs. The classes are online and she started this week. She has made an “A” on every assignment so far! I am so proud of her for doing this. She’s dealt with some strong anxiety in the process, but she did it.

My heart is full of pride and happiness for both of my girls.

 

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THIS is What I Wanted to be When I Grew Up? May 7, 2013

Life is crazy. And weird. And never, ever what you expect it to be.

When I was 10 if you asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would say a vet. I wanted to help all the animals in the world. Never mind that I couldn’t stand the thought of putting one down, or the realities of surgery. I just wanted to love and help them all, in some vague way. Oh, and get paid for it, so I could afford the ‘farm’ I would have. Never mind the real hard work that goes into such a farm; I just liked the idea of it.

When I was 13 if you asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would say a rock star. I idolized those who could rock out: playing a guitar and singing their way across all the countries of the world. I wanted it all: the fame, the fortune, and the fans. It was just a minor problem that I had no singing talent at all, nor could I play any instrument. Unless you counted a play electric organ. I could beat out Silent Night like nobody’s business.

It’s strange, looking back. I had this idea of who I would be and what my life would be like. In some ways, parts of it came true. I always wanted to get married and raise a family, and I have done this. I wanted to stay home with my children and raise them like my mom did with me, and I did. I stayed home with my girls until they started school. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I eventually decided to be a teacher, and (other than the lack of money) I never regretted that decision. Although I still sing in the shower, to keep the vocal chords warmed up, just in case…

My life did not turn out to be exactly as I thought; life has a way of shaping  you and changing your beliefs and values. Things that I once thought to be important are now of no consequence to me.

Funny, as I was growing up, not once did I ever think to myself, “When I grow up, I want to be a semi-crazy mom who raises one drug-addicted,  bipolar daughter with life issues, and one daughter who has strict, traditional values. Except for being gay, of course. Oh, and I want a husband who is old-fashioned and out of touch, so I can carry the weight of our problems by myself. Throw in a dog I love, but who has unexplained seizures, and THAT’S the life I want!”

No, none of us really get what we think we want. But you know what? I’ve made a life. I have a sense of humor that saves me most days. I have a family I love who loves me back. I have an interesting job that is great most days. This is my life, and I made it mine. It is not what I expected, because it is so much more.

 

This Is Me May 2, 2013

I live each day with a smile

helping, hugging, loving

all who are in need.

 

No one knows

no one would even believe

the darkness inside…

 

I lock away my sadness

hide it under well-formed layers

wishing  in vain for it to vanish.

 

I look for beauty in all things

so I have a reason

not to die today.

 

This is me

how I live

how I am.

 

 

I Am a Good Person May 1, 2013

I am  a good person. Everyone makes mistakes, right?

I am a good person. I just make a lot of mistakes.

I am a good person.  Why do I do such stupid things, then?

I am a good person. Everyone would be better off without me.

I am a good person. I made such a mess of my life.

I am a good person.

I am  a good person.

I am  a good person.

I am  a good person.

I am  a good person.

I am  a good person.

I am  a good person.

I am  a good person.

I am  a good person.

I am  a good person.

I am  a good person.

I am  a good person.

If I keep saying it, will I ever really believe it?

 

 

 

Feeling Better, Anti-Weepies, and Good Friends March 25, 2013

I’m getting there. Despite the chaos around me (or maybe BECAUSE of it) I feel…lighter. The heaviness in my head and chest is a little better today; the haze is lessening. I still have a certain sadness, a melancholy, if you will, but it is not crippling. I am able to think of tomorrow, and that there is a reason to see another tomorrow. That’s progress, my friends!

My dear friend Hannah (and she is a friend, even if I have never met her in “real life”) made a comment on my last post. She said I was bat-shit crazy and why didn’t I go take some damn anti-lunatic pills and stop pissing around already.

No, she didn’t really say that. 😉 But I wouldn’t be offended if she had! (See, I’m feeling better because my sense of humor is back.) This is what she actually wrote:

Don’t take this the wrong way, but have you considered medication? You are a wonderful, loving, giving person, and if you need some help getting through this period in your life, then you should have it. I’ve been on medication, and yes, it’s absolutely a crutch, but you know, sometimes you break your leg and it’s ok to use a crutch for a time. Not forever, maybe, but to get through the worst of it. So, all I’m saying is, if you don’t need it, then ok… but if you do, that’s alright, too.

My friend, I agree. Here is the sad thing: This is me on drugs. I AM ON MEDICINE!! And, here is the kicker…..they have changed it and increased it multiple times. Most of the time, I sail along with the usual ups and downs. But in recent years, the lows take me way, way down. Some may be situational…  after all, my life is the kind they write books about (and you would think it was all made up; no one could REALLY have a  life like that!). Some may be the residual effects of the abuse I suffered at a younger age. But I know some of these feelings are not based on current or past situations. Those mornings when I open my eyes only to see the darkness has descended; those days when nothing interests me; those nights when I beg my dreams to take me away, but all they do is mock me….that is depression in the purest form.

The pills do work. I stopped taking them once. Within days, all I could do was weep. Yes, weep. I’m not a woman to use that word lightly, but when the shoe fits…there is no other way to describe it. I. Could. Not. Function. I went back on the medicine, and felt like myself a few days later. That is NOT an experience I ever want to repeat. Don’t get me wrong; I like an occasional good cry: it is a powerful release that leaves me feeling cleansed and emotionally stable again. But WEEPING, however, is NOT FUN. You make no sense, the tears flow without any feeling of release, your nose gets all snotty and gross, and YOU CANNOT STOP! There is no end to weeping. It just gets quieter, but it doesn’t stop. It is a pathetic kind of crying with no purpose other than to make you look weak and stupid, and, yes, CRAZY. So I have no plans to stop taking my beautiful little “no-weepies” pills each day.

Do I need to go back and try a new kind of pill? Maybe. Okay, yes, I do. But that will have to wait until this summer, because I cannot afford to dive into the weepies at work. They kinda don’t know how unstable I really am, and I hope to keep fooling them for another day week year or two, if possible. So I will continue, the best that I can.

As for you, my dear friends, thank you. Thank you for your kind, encouraging words when things get tough for me. I’m not able to reply when things are bad, but I want you to know I am reading and it does matter. I know my bouts with depression are not fun to read about, but it is healing and helpful to me to get it out. I cannot say what I feel, and I hide it from those around me, but for some reason I can write about it straight from the heart. When I write, I don’t censor. So you are seeing me naked, down to the very center of my humanist. I am honored that any of you stick around to read. The fact that so many of  you actually care enough to comment and wish me well…it blows me away. It gives me hope for the human race. And yes, if I hadn’t taken my pills, I might even be a little weepy right now…

 

Trying Not to Fall Into the Abyss March 24, 2013

I’m trying. I really am. Every day when I wake up and look in the mirror, I tell myself all those positive things the therapists and self-help books tell you to say: “You are a valuable person. It’s okay to not be perfect because no one is.  You have empathy and talent. You are worthwhile. There are people who love you just as you are, faults and all. You are lovable.” Sometimes I even believe a small part of what I say, but mostly I look into my eyes and see a nothing person. But I promise, I am trying to find reasons to be alive.

I see everything as though I am peering through a thick, black fog. The haze is so real I can taste it. It leaves a heavy metallic taste on my tongue. My eyes feel gritty from trying to see beyond the haze, so I often just close them. When I am home, I try to sleep, but dozing is the best I can do. My mind is filled with every demon from my past chasing me into a corner. I fight the urge to just surrender. Giving up, surrendering, seems so alluring and easy, and yet I still fight. Something in me makes me keep fighting.

I think it would be better now, but life circumstances are conspiring against my healing. My dog, who is one of my huge reasons for living, is back in the emergency hospital with seizures again. I ache for him. Another financial problem reared up to cause even more stress. And then, of course, there is J, who is herself teetering on the edge of mania gone wild.

I can almost see the edge of the cloud, but my fingertips are tired; they ache to let go and just let my body and soul fall into the abyss.

Life circumstances are hard right now, and that is not helping.

 

It’s Coming March 14, 2013

It’s coming. I can feel it, breathing down my neck. It’s not here yet, but it is close. When I gaze in the mirror, I can feel it hovering just out of view. When I walk down a long hall and turn the corner, I can almost catch a glimpse. As I stare into my own eyes, I feel it staring back, right there behind the dark brown flecks of my irises. Just the thought is wearing me down.

There is nothing I can do. It will come, it will stay as long as it wants, and it will leave just as abruptly as it came. It will tear me apart if it wants, and leave me in tiny little pieces that I can never, ever make fit perfectly again. I will fake it for as long as I can so that no one else can see the turmoil it brings. I will fake normal so no one will know my secret. But I know, and IT knows.

How long is my uninvited and unwanted guest going to stay?  Will I make it? Will my life be so interrupted that nothing is ever the same again? Only it knows.

I hate depression.