Hope

I have an appointment for a county evaluation this coming Thursday. Evaluations always confirm my BPD, depression and anxiety. It’s what can be done that I’m looking for.

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By the way, my dog Chi seems to be 100% again!the vet thinks it was an autoimmunity. Cortisone helped. I sure do love her. When I broke down last week, she quickly jumped up on my bed and curled into me as I sobbed. It was the first time she’d jumped up on the bed in a month. She did it for me.

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Worry and Panic about my dog

Chi

Chi

 

My dog has been lethargic the last several days. She ran and played hard on Friday. Saturday found her quiet and sleeping. A little stiff, I thought. Same same on Sunday. I began wondering if she’d picked up a bug. That  would take a few days to work through, so I tried to be patient on Monday. By Monday night, I noticed that her stool was very soft, though not diarrhea. She continues to eat, but only wants to get up when she needs to go outside. I was gone for several hours yesterday (Tuesday) and didn’t get home until early evening. Still very lethargic. My husband noticed that some bumps were showing on her snout. Bumps like the ones that erupted on  her snout last spring – and she was on two antibiotics for weeks. Ears down, tail down, trouble getting up from her bed. I felt desolate with worry about what was going on. She’s only a year old.

I was up with her for a couple of hours during the night. She did walk outside (it may have helped hearing deer munching on the twigs and leaves of branches we had trimmed, right next to the.) This morning, she  is walking a little better, but still doesn’t want to get up.  Thankfully, I’m able to get her into the vet’s office in a few hours. So, stool sample in hand (in a baggie), I hope to get some answers and help for her soon. She’s my baby girl, after all, and has been there for me through a lot of depression last fall. She’s my Chi.

Feeling Fragile

I’ve been with my mom for three weeks now, a week and a half since my  dad passed. All the other relatives have returned home, but I’m still needed here to support her and tidy up all the loose ends. Yesterday, we chose a burial plot for his cremains. We also went to visitation for a good friend of his who passed a week after he did.

All of life seems to be about death right now. Maybe that’s why I broke down last night and cried for my dad to come back and tell me it is all OK. I opened his bedroom door, hoping to see his ghost, but didn’t. I lay in bed, hoping his image would appear at the door with a twinkle in his eyes and a loving smile, but nothing was to be seen. I, his 50 year old daughter, cried and cried for the father I had lost.

It was his time to go, but I NEED to know that he was OK with it and how his life had played out. I had hope to have that conversation with him during his last days, but, although he was not in pain, breathing was so difficult as his lungs filled, he couldn’t talk because of the effort. At one point, when palliative care was decided (hospice), he asked me if it was the right choice. All I could answer was that we wanted him to be comfortable. I knew, and I think he did too, that nothing more could be done to try and heal him. His heart was failing as the valves leaked and constricted. He could no longer endure or survive surgery. How do you tell someone that the doctors can’t fix you anymore?

So after months of feeling better than I have in years, I feel like I’m about to crumble into a childlike heap of tears and emotions of loss and abandonment. But I can’t. I am needed as a pillar for my 88 year old mom.

Is this, then, my test of recovery? Will I hold strong now, only to fall apart once I am home and she is safe here? I hope not. I don’t want to fall back into that pit. I want to live and flourish in life. I have new friends who support me in ways I never experienced. I know I have to feel the pain, the loss, and know that it doesn’t have to consume me. I can feel it and be OK. I can, I can. I guess that needs to be my new mantra.

Fear and Loathing

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The river of life

I’m not at home right now. I had to return to my parents’. My dad is failing – as in death. I fear his death. His body has gone through hell over the years and it is a miracle that he is still alive. I loath this whole situation. My mom needs me, though, and I am and will be here for her. I love them both very much. This is a difficult part of life. A part I’ve never dealt well with. Mortality. There’s no coming back once the line has been crossed. I’m glad I never crossed it during any of my struggles.

This situation has caused me to reflect on all of my suicidal ideation episodes. I feel horrible about the emotional pain I have put others through over the years. I feel very calm about where we are at with my dad. He seems to be at peace and all that is left is tiredness. The hourglass has almost emptied. I’m confused by my calmness. All of my BPD seems absent. Am I in shock? I just don’t know.

Unconditional Love and a Time for Change

I’ve felt better lately than I’ve felt in well over a year. Not sure why. Maybe all the stress from my last year or two has finally dissipated. I’m glad for whatever reason. It’s allowed me to be emotionally available for my son as his girlfriend breaks up with him, yet again and probably for good. Last night, he asked me to hang out with him, in his room, and watch a movie. I cherished it. Sometimes you just want to be with someone that you know loves you unconditionally. Mom love. So, we watched one of those feel-good cartoon movies. Very calming.

I know there are many people out there, healthy or mentally ill, who haven’t had or have a mother who loves them unconditionally, and I feel very sad about that. It really is a loss. My son and I argue – a LOT! He’s almost seventeen, and we’re both stubborn. But even in the midst of a huge argument, I know that I can stop and tell him that I love him, and he will say that he loves me too. To me, that speaks volumes about unconditional love between a parent and child. I know that he has no doubt that he is loved and valued, just because he “is.”  For me, always having a very low self esteem, it says that I have accomplished a major goal in parenting. And it helps me feel better about myself.

That grain of feeling better about my self will hopefully flourish and grow and be able to feed me in having the strength of resolve to make other positive changes in my life. The positive changes that I’m addressing are finding a job that respects and honors me as a valuable person, and taking better care of myself through addressing emotional eating, exercising more and in constructive ways for weight loss and making healthier food choices (and choices in general.) I’m fifty and have at least eighty pounds that I’d like to lose. I’m going to do something scary here and show three pictures of me: thin ( 2 @ twenty years ago) and fat (current picture.) I’m not sure quite how I lost control of my weight over the years, but I hate the way my body feels now. I need to appreciate and love myself, respect and take care of myself so that I can be at my best – and fully be there for those I love.

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‘Twas the night before Christmas and a little anxiety crept about …

English: Christmas food of Poland, Sanok

The holidays are hard for me though. In addition to the general stress of them and family and trying to be on my best behavior and not argue at all, there’s the food, food, FOOD! It triggers the eating disorder part of me that I’ve also struggled with – failingly – since I managed to stay pretty thin until I went into treatment for bulimia at age 29, but it’s been a downhill battle and increasing weight gain ever since then and my weight is now up about 80 pounds from when I when into treatment! That does a ceaseless number on my self esteem and really makes being around boundless quantities of food distracting. I learned this summer that my bulimia was actually another form of self harm. Unfortunately, my body got to the point that throwing up felt like my chest was being ripped wide open, with no purging results, so I’m left stuck with ingesting food that becomes extra weight.  Sometimes I can kind of forget about my body image … until I see myself in a picture or mirror. And then the self loathing returns. And I want to purge … but I can’t. And I haven’t been self harming (burning or cutting), and know I should keep away from that but would really really really like to – so here I go into the remainder of Christmas Eve and onto Christmas Day with more food, food, food and smiling and not telling. I feel like the size of the Abominable Snowman. I can feel my anxiety bubbling up and ready to seep out or every crevice as if my body was made of porous  building blocks.

I do love my family, every one of them!

A birth that might not have been – had the threat been real.

This is a digital story I made about my son and some circumstances that were going on during my delivery of him, unbeknownst to me. In making it, I was constantly reminded of how much he means to me and the impact he has had on so many lives. As a person who struggles with their own self worth, I need to remember that although I am no longer a child, I too have been that child. Whether I’ve always liked myself or not, I’ve touched the lives of others as well. But I don’t want this post to be about me. I want to share my digital story of my son, Peter, with you.