Jan. 12th, 2017

spikethemuffin: (Gardening)
My kids and I were planning to visit my mother on the south side of Chicago this weekend (my mother's birthday falls around this time, plus my vic is not likely to be in the area, especially at that time, when even if he's not doing family stuff, he has his Friendsgiving traditional gathering with his clique of no-kidding panda genocide advocates centered around an annual event), but my daughter's doctor says huh-uh, no way, no travel right now.

I really, really don't want to go. I'm in the middle of a major depressive episode, which is manifesting as irritability, paranoia, spaciness, self-loathing, crazy-awful tinnitus, and the occasional constant crying jags. I don't want to people. I don't want to leave my house and go loud, cold places. I don't want to be afraid of running into my exes or their families while I'm alone. I don't want to not visit my friends, such as they are, because I would be the one who would be inviting and I can't afford to buy. I want to figure out how to exist and I don't want to have to pretend to have it together in front of my mother, who is just in full-on, "I can't trust you to look up train tickets correctly right now, so I'm having your daughter do it for you" mode. She's probably right, I'm sure. I don't want to be around someone who is barely tolerating me, and I especially don't want to do so when I'm in the mode where I'm hypersensitive to this. Plus, my mom's spare room for non-couples is basically a drafty 8 X 6 cell with an empty plastic bookshelf and a yoga mat, and you just kind of feel your soul shrink in it. Also, if I front the money for a train ticket and my mom oopsies to teach me an important lesson about how I'm a grown-up and should be paying for my own travel and shouldn't trust other grown-ups to reimburse me when they say they will, well, I have approximately zero money and a bag of rice for the next eight days if I don't want to dip into my credit. If I don't go, I can afford that bike I've been eyeing at the Salvation Army, which will make things MUCH easier for me travel-wise. (I hate bikes; they always try to kill me, but I am hopeful that having one on hand will generate alternatives, if only out of fear and loathing.)

And of course, very little of the above bears a resemblance to reality. My mother is a perfectly gracious and wonderful woman. There is nothing wrong with a basic guest room. There is nothing wrong with taking a hit to the finances in order to spend time with the people you love. There is nothing wrong with cold, noisy, exposed, lonely. There is no reason I should feel afraid of running into my exes (if only I avoid my favorite places and the people I would want to see.) It's just that my brain feels shitty and it latches on to everything that could possibly be making it feel shitty as a reason to feel bad and fix those [non] reasons, and decades of seriously awful therapy has taught me to be really good at finding reasons to be angry and sad at things when what I really need is a mango lassi, a handful of multivitamins, and a Buffython. So I want to yell at people, or tell myself they're yelling at me, whether or not there's an reality-connected reason.

And my daughter is going through her own shit, some diagnoses handed down that are on the whole a relief but have grave, forever, life-altering consequences (plus the whole "leg torn in half" thing as a cherry on top of the shit sundae, yum). And I haven't seen my mom in over a year. The last thing they need right now is for me to scarper on my responsibilities, especially since it must feel like I always flake out. Unfortunately, it's actually the second-to-last thing they need; the last thing you need is me turning into Flippo the Freak and frothing at the mouth.

I feel so tired and sad. Please can I just not for a bit?


Jan. 12th, 2017 03:26 am
spikethemuffin: (Gardening)
I just teally want to go to someone's house and bake them a coffee cake, you know?


spikethemuffin: (Default)

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