I feel as though my depression is starting to come back over me this morning. I feel heavy and not in just the weight sense of the word. My inside feels heavy if that makes any sense to you. It’s an effort to take a breath and maybe that’s because I’m thinking about it but I just want to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over my head.
It’s still a bit dark outside and maybe when the sun starts to come out it will make me feel a little better. I know I need help with this but I just don’t know what to do. I need to follow up with one of my doctors for another reason that I had surgery for before but I don’t want him to put me back in the hospital either and that scares me. This could be part of why I’m feeling like I do this morning, adding worrying to the situation.
I need help, I’m alone when it comes to what I’m feeling inside. They’re not feelings that I can share with my son because I don’t want him to worry either. I just don’t know where to turn.
There are a lot of issues and a lot of changes going on all at the same time, add to that, I desperately need to lose weight and I work 10-hour shifts where I sit at a computer in order to work. I wish I could get paid to be active and move around. I wish there was a company that would pay me to lose weight! I would definitely sign up for that as long as I could pay the bills, that would make me happy. I say that it would make me happy but I truly don’t know but it sure would be nice to have that incentive and time to do what needs to be done.
There’s always been something in my life to worry about, either with myself or with outside issues. When I was younger, I fell in love with someone who was not who they said they were. About halfway through the relationship, I started to know what was happening but I didn’t let myself let go of him because I was too in love with who I thought he was. He even went so far as to ask me to marry him, but that I said no to because I knew in the back of my mind that he wasn’t mine yet anyway so I couldn’t do that. He had a completely separate life that he took on at the same time as he had his life with me. I never knew how someone could do that to someone that they professed their love to but I guess love meant something different to me than it did him. Then one day when he was dropping me off at my house (after almost 3 1/2 years of being together), I just never called him and he never called me. We never said goodbye in the sense of a long goodbye, I think I even remember him saying, “I’ll see you Tuesday”. But I never saw him and I never called, just let go at that point I guess.
I’ve learned that when you let go, no matter what the situation is, you only let go of the situation and not always the hurt that it caused. These two things can and do live as individual effects. I carried that hurt for a long time before I even identified it as hurt, I mixed it with trust issues and trying to be strong. Sometimes when I say I’m trying to be strong and move on, it’s a way of pushing something out of sight when it’s really in the back of my mind with little reminders every day of it being there.
This doesn’t mean that I didn’t “date” after that, just that I never felt love again through a relationship. I’ve loved as a friend but not as in a person that I want with me all the time. I’ve wanted to be in love with someone but it was a lie that I was telling myself because I knew what love felt like, even if it wasn’t real to them. So I guess in life, I’ve never come across anyone either strong enough or willing to go the distance to show me that love is still out there.
During all of this, more and more I needed to stay close to my mother. My younger sister had a child and was nowhere near having any motherly instincts so my mother became his mother figure. I was then, in turn, her back up with raising him. He was 15-years-old when she passed and he essentially became my son. My younger sister was always the source of drama and stress on my mother even though my mother was fighting her own health battles, my sister would always act as if she were the one dying. It hurt to see my mother go through that and whenever I tried to stop it, my younger sister would always use my nephew as a bribe, saying she would leave and take him with her. She had nothing but people that would let her sleep on a couch but she would still threaten and mom felt at a disadvantage. So in order to make sure he was safe, she did what she had to do. But when mom passed, he was at an age that he could make a decision of where to live so that wasn’t an issue at this point. My mother had said for me to take over the house and take care of my nephew and made sure to say it in front of my younger brother so when I filed the probate paperwork and my sister blew a gasket, he did just as mom wished and backed me up on it.
Now, I’m not a horrible person, I tried for two years after mom passed to get my sister to be responsible. I paid the bills at the house, the food and even bought her personal care items right down to clothing when she needed. It just came to an end when in 2009 when everyone was losing their jobs, I also lost mine and with everyone looking, I had no idea how long it would take. I told her to be good and not lose the job at the doughnut store that she had. But not two weeks later, she came home saying she had been fired and we found out it was because she was a gossip. So it wasn’t the economy, it was her mouth, literally the mouth that I was feeding.
I spent every day searching for work, making a spreadsheet of who I contacted and when so that I knew when to go back and touch base with them again. I drove around the city looking for places that I could look at applying to and also scoured the Penny Saver for anything they had advertised. At this point, I would take anything as long as it brought in a paycheck.
Six months it took me to find another job but in the middle of the searching, I tried to help her also and she would tell me that she was going on interviews. So I got her a bus pass so that she could get to the interviews. One day as I was opening my computer to do more searching, she had left open a profile for dating. It turned out that she wasn’t going on interviews for a job, she was going on “dates”. I was feeding her and she was getting them to buy her drinks and who knows what.
I think my compassion was overridden by anger and frustration at this point. I got in my truck and drove towards where she said she had an interview that day. I found her walking nowhere near where she should have been. At first, I told her that we would talk when she got home and then I drove off. But that didn’t last, I turned around and got her in the truck. I drove back to the house and backed up to the door. I then told her to put her things in the back of it and tell me where she wanted to go. I drove her to one of her so-called close friends’ houses and she unloaded her stuff.
After this, I did get a job, for half of what I was making before but I’d have taken anything at this point. I had been there a few months when my panic attacks started. It was then that I got a call from my younger sister. I was sitting in my car having a panic attack when she called begging me to let her come home. I told her no, that she needed to figure it out because I needed to save myself at this point and that she is an adult and can figure it out.
I’ve never kept her from seeing her son or my granddaughter (her biological) but I don’t allow her on the property any longer after additional instances. But in the end, she’s breathing and living so she’s hopefully grown up and is doing the right thing now. I don’t really know and she’s stopped coming around or even calling her son except for every few months when she comes this way to visit a friend. So it’s not a visit to see them, it’s a side thought because they will be in the area and then they don’t stop by until after seeing the friend. My son (her biologic) used to get really depressed when she would do this and now I’ve seen his strength grow. He knows how much she is missing out on with his daughter. His daughter does not call her grandma or anything like that, she refers to her as Dads’ mom. I still sometimes feel sad that she’s missing out, but she doesn’t seem to care so I have to not let that bother me because I love my son and my granddaughter to the end of the world and I know they love me so that is enough for me to get over any feelings of sorrow for her.
Sometimes I think that this is my form of therapy, although I’m not giving up on the screaming. I start my writing feeling one way and end it with another feeling. Working through what’s in my head and putting it down on the keyboard sometimes changes how I see it or how I feel it and sometimes even helps me realize that it’s not what I thought was bothering me but something completely different. Words are so powerful, typed written or said.