A Momentary Pity Party - Then Shut Up & Get On With It

Disclaimer:  This post was written in one 5 hour non-stop sitting.  I have not edited it to be more coherent.  I left it as is to show my altered state at the time of writing.  This is my pity party before going back to getting on with living.  Hopefully after writing it out and getting it off my mind it will help me.  This blog is, after all, my 'confessor' of sorts.

I've spent the majority of this week angry... for many and no reason(s).

• Angry at my husband for not being a whole person, equal and partner in crime.
• Angry at my mother for being a manipulative bitch and emotional blackmailer.
• Angry at my financial circumstances no matter how hard or long I work.
• Angry that I am unable to stick to anything that is good for me without guilt and thoughts of how I'm perceived by others.
• Angry that I am stuck and stagnant and so depressed I cannot find joy in anything and am forced to fake it every damn day.
• Angry that I can't make it better... make me better.
• Angry that my life is going nowhere and that I complain via this blog or even in my own mind when I know I am better off than many others.

My anger wants to smash, to hurt, to trash, to break.  I am pushing my friends away because their happiness hurts... I'm not talking about looks or material possessions I am talking about a different happiness that I don't know how to describe.  

I'm tired.  Tired of putting myself last.  Yet I'm guilty if put myself first.  I feel like running away.  I just want to go away where no one sees me and I can just be nobody.  I don't know how to explain it but I"ll try.

I am tired of being the only person responsible for my household, my husbands personal assistant, secretary and reminder (as in reminding him of who he is to call, what he is to do, his appointments etc.); tired of being a daughter; wife and worker.  I want to find my happiness - I don't want my PTSD to be triggered, have panic attacks and depression.  I don't want to be responsible for anything but myself.

When I have tried to do that... that's when things fall apart.  The household turns into a shit-hole because he can't do much cleaning, let alone cook or do dishes due to his disability; bills are not paid; appointments are missed; shopping and cooking can't be done and nothing that needs to happen at home would be completed.

I can't bring myself to create; to read; to sing; to play.  It has been a struggle and over 5 hours just to write this, never mind writing for pleasure.

I was told by a friend who is a social worker that some of what I'm going through is called caregiver fatigue/depression.  The rest is chronic depression.  Googling caregiver fatigue came up with some scholarly articles (like the one I have linked to) and many 'holistic' and 'spiritual' pieces.  

Being told to 'find my bliss' or pray or have faith/trust in "insert deity of choice here" or my "higher power" isn't helpful.

• I don't believe in God and my higher power is myself... not helpful
• What the fuck is my 'bliss'?  

I am not where I thought I would be at 52.  I feel like I have failed at life.  Like my every decision has been wrong. Some days I even wish I had followed my original plan from so long ago when I was homeless.  The only thing I would have missed are my dogs.  That's it.  I wouldn't have missed family drama and dysfunction not to mention other things I'd rather not discuss here.

That's sad.

I know I am depressed.  I am going to have to go back on my anti-depressive drug again.  I am never going to be able to stop it until I'm dead.  I hate the thought of taking it... of having to rely on a drug to cope.  Or am I coping by covering up who I am with drugs.

In some ways I feel like I'm working my way towards a self-destructive end.  Being self-destructive by not taking my iron (it is expensive and sometimes I just can't afford it), B12 injection (just can't be bothered), and vitamin D (very low especially during the winter) and anti-depressant.  It seems too much work to take the medications.  Not moving or exercising, not doing those healthy things others do.  I eat crap too.  I'm obsessed with food sometimes.

I think some of it is from being homeless.  At that time I ate what was given to me or what was discarded by others or I didn't eat for days at a time.  

Some of it is stress.  Food is my only comfort.  I don't do drugs, can't drink, have sex (I'm true to my wedding vow) and I don't have money for retail therapy.  I don't know how else to fill the void except with food.  There is no joy, no pleasure except what I get from food.  Food doesn't talk back, is within reach and raises up whatever endorphins I do feel. I can't seem to get pleasure from anything I used to do.
 
Every day I'm waiting to lose my job, lose my home, run out of money and be so deeply in debt that I go bankrupt.  Triggers, panic, anxiety, depression.  

My self-destructive behaviour is strong lately.  I have had Trichotillomania (Hair Pulling) since I was a tween and to a lesser extent Dermatillomania (skin picking) over the last few decades.  And of course, I eat crap.

What can I do to fix myself?  I'm currently talking to a great clinical psychologist about other things, but my Employee Assistance Program through my work only covers 4 visits per topic.  Right now I have 2 more sessions to deal with my dad's death and the mental/emotional stuff around my mothers attempted manipulation of me then I'm done with counselling for a while.

You would think after all the therapy I have had for the last 30 or so years I'd be better.  I am, in some areas, more aware and can sometimes step away so I can think rationally and logically about what goes on... but I don't feel better.  I don't feel better equipped to deal with it all.

I'm sorry I'm whining.  I know I am.  I am playing my mother by whining.  But is it so wrong to want someone else to take care of me and take some responsibility for a while?  Not permanently since I won't live under orders from anyone else... I'm too independent (so I'm told).

I'm tired.  I want to rest. But how can I?

I have a disabled husband who, due to his morphine for pain or his actual disability couldn't take care of us.  I can't rely on others - this I know from experience a few times over.  I will not be a burden to my friends, and in truth, most of them don't know the whole story of my life and my feelings and it's really not their business no matter how close we are.

I'll have to find a way.  

Or not.