Sunday, January 29, 2017

For the past two mornings, I've woken up at 5:45. I think I've been hoping to get in some "me" time, time to pray and meditate, or just maybe some time to read. I feel like that's all been a joke. I feel like the devil is on my shoulder, whispering in my ear all those dark things in which I feel about myself. I'm not sure how to take care of myself to get back out of all this blackness.

Yesterday was a day that I barely remember. I felt like somebody else must have lived it and I just peeked in at parts of it. That's how out of it I am right now. I wish I could wipe the slate clean of all of these medications that I take, let my body detox, and then start from new. Would I just be another person hovering over my body, watching my life like it was someone else's?

Saturday, January 28, 2017

It's a bad day today. Depressed, suicidal, just a big dump on the poop scale. I've been trying to make the best of things, but I finally gave up and took a nap while Nick watched Matthew, and Tea was at the dance competition. Now my ass is dragging, and I can't even begin to describe the heaviness in my chest, which begs the question: why am I even trying to write?

Friday, January 27, 2017

I feel out of control and not put together. I was terribly sick yesterday, and I feel raw and my emotions feel like they're out there to be plucked at will. I had some stomach bug and just slept all day. It was horrible. Being that vulnerable physically left me more than vulnerable emotionally. Now I have appointments that I'm supposed to make it to today, and I feel like I can barely move. I just want to scream at the unfairness of life, making me get up. I'm not sure how to adult today. I have no patience for Matthew, and he's the one that I need the most patience with. This little black cat drives me up the wall with the way he keeps jumping up on everything that he should be staying off of. I just don't know how to keep it all together.

Saturday, January 21, 2017

Some days I find it harder to function than others. Today I couldn't latch my bra, and I ended up laying on the bed crying until Tea came upstairs and helped me. Later, when I was doing laundry, the washer load was ready to be switched to the dryer, but I couldn't bring myself to take the stuff out of the dryer, so I just stood over the washer crying. I often wonder if I should be in the hospital. Dealing with life and it's small nuances shouldn't be this hard. I've stopped drinking caffeine thinking that perhaps that might have been a cause to my panic attacks. The smallest things just seem like the biggest efforts. It feels like it even hurts to move my arms and legs.

Thursday, January 19, 2017

I've been in turmoil over the past few days (weeks?), and I've had a hard time figuring out why. I tried to blame it on the steroids and other medications that I've had to take to deal with my bi-polar disorder, but for some reason, that just didn't seem like that was it. Today was a horrible day. I flipped out on the cat and the kids. I knew I couldn't handle being alone with any of them. I had to call Nick home because I was afraid that I was going to hurt somebody. Not myself, or at least I wasn't sure if I was going to hurt myself or not, but it didn't feel like it, but I did feel like I was going to hurt somebody else. I spent the afternoon drugged up on an extra dose of anti-psychotics and some anti-anxiety meds, and with Nick being home, I slept the whole afternoon. When I woke up, though, I felt all crazy again. I ended up taking a hot bath and trying to evaluate my feelings.

I'm stuck on trying to control everything. My sister and I are headed up to Duluth tomorrow, and ideally we'd like to leave no later than 8:30. My mom pounced on that time and wants to have lunch at 11:30 then. My sister wants to stop by her son's house before lunch, though. I don't know how long that will take. There's other sisters in here who also are working within our time limits. I don't want to work within time limits. I want to just say, okay, we're here, let's meet. I can't do the stress and pressure of trying to get so many people together. And that's where all these feelings are coming up. I figured it out. Now if I knew where and how to solve it.

Wednesday, January 18, 2017

I met with Jill today (my psychiatric nurse), and I'm officially off the extra dose of the Risperdal. Now maybe my breasts will stop leaking so much and just get back to the regular amount of leaking. I swear I'm going to ruin my new bras. Today was also the last dose of my Prednisone. I'm so excited to be done with that stuff. It has caused me to be flying every which way but stable. Today was a day of major anxiety attacks on the steroids. I couldn't even get Matthew buckled into his car seat because it just felt like "too much" to do to take on the task. I know I should be working on my CBT online courses again, and I should look into the DBT online courses again. I need to get doing something to take care of myself, and online is about the only option that I have right now, because I don't have daycare.

I'm looking at taking a 2-hour community-education course toward writing my memoir. I'm also looking at joining a writer's group. I've called about the writer's group, and it's something I'm really excited about. I'm going to send in my registration for this memoir class. I figure 2 hours out of a Saturday isn't much to give for some guidance on how I can plan out this mess of a manuscript that I have going on right now. The only actually writing I have that I do on a weekly basis right now is my blogging and the writings that I do in my OA journal.

I suppose I'll log into my CBT course. And I think I'm going to text my OA sponsor. I need some strength today.

Sunday, January 15, 2017

The family went up north for the weekend to celebrate my father-in-law's birthday. Bryan was able to go with us, so that was special. I don't think he's been able to see his grandparents for half a year now. Maybe longer. It sure feels like forever. While we were up there, I made an over-exaggerated joke about how this baby-making factory was shut down, we were done with that, etc. My mom followed me into the other room and told me how my niece-in-law is pregnant, and not with my nephew's child. She thought I should know. I was like, bummer. They were done having kids, too. But she's young, still, and I can see why she went out; she hasn't had a chance to have a wild streak yet. She's been raising kids since high school, practically. Anyway, I'd been sitting here wondering all day why my mom thought I should know. Maybe so I'm not surprised when the news comes out? Maybe because my nephew thought the baby-making factory was done on his end, and whoops, here's a baby on the way!?! Maybe because my mom is worried that could happen in our relationship, only it would be happening opposite for us; that we'd have some woman at the door claiming Nick's kid. Nick would have to find the time to cheat. And the energy. I'm thinking it's just so that I'm not surprised when the news comes out. I usually dread hearing news of new babies. I find it really hard to get excited about them. And to get excited about this one would be a gut blow to my nephew. Even though I probably understand where my niece-in-law is coming from a little too well.

Tuesday, January 10, 2017

I've had a few days to get over myself. I know that if it weren't for not adopting, we would have never had Matthew. I know that little boy doesn't know us, and it makes absolutely no sense to have him in our household. I know that he knows and loves my cousin, and it makes very much sense for him to be there while they try to get him straightened out. My emotions run strong, and I needed a few days to think and pray about it. And I prayed a ton. I'm always going to miss what could've been, and I'm always going to dream about it. But I have what is, and that's more than enough.

I joined a group on Facebook for special needs moms. It's a good group. I'm looking forward to Matthew's appointment at the beginning of February to see if we can get an actual diagnosis, something finalized for insurance, something to end this. I want peace of mind. I want to be able to be okay with whatever diagnosis there is and move on. I'm having a hard time making sense of what's going on in every day life with him now, not knowing what to expect or what could be on a timeline for advancement. Or what I could do to be helping more. It's frustrating.

Saturday, January 7, 2017

Such disturbing news today. My mind is going a million miles an hour. The little boy that we were going to adopt 7 years ago is now living with a cousin of mine because the biological mother is not in a good spot and can't handle motherhood; to be frank, she never could. I told her at the time when she told me she was going to keep him that we could offer him a better life than she ever could, and I'm watching the pain for him play out. It kills me. I still consider him our son. I've never been able to let go. My mind is spinning thinking of ways to get him with us. I keep thinking how we could change the master bedroom into a bedroom for him and Matthew. We could get him enrolled in the school district here. We could start him in counseling. All these thoughts running through my head! But it's been over 7 years since I've spoken to the biological mother. She's not going to want my help. And, really, as much as I want to help, am I really in a place to give it? I know I've always felt like this is the son I've lost, but I have three other children to think about. I have an adult son with bi-polar disorder who can't seem to stand on his own two feet and get this grown-up thing figured out. I have a teen-age daughter with anxiety and depression who needs a gentle yet firm guided hand. And I have my Matthew, who is still going through evaluations to determine everything that he may need assistance with. Oh, my brain. I just needed to get this out. I've never stopped thinking about that boy. I occasionally creep the biological mother's page to look at pictures. I think about him every birthday. I mourn the loss of him as though he were one of our own, because he was one of our own. This kills me.