An inkling of why I fight with my son so much

Another fight with my son today, although not a huge one. Now he’s off with a friend, husband’s gone for the afternoon, and I just had a drink. Doing yard work that I’d asked my son to do (and pay him for doing) that he just wasn’t getting around to doing – I got to thinking about our relationship.

I keep being told that I’m driving him away, when there is less than a year until he’s 18 and ready to head out on his own, instead of appreciating the time. Why? That question keeps plaguing me. I know that in the past I have not let people get close, or showed/told them my worst to see if it would be too much for them. Kind of pushing them away from me before they chose to leave (abandon) me because I was “too bad.” Is this what I’m doing with my son? Pushing him away because I know he’ll be leaving anyway?

I create my own Hell.

20131006-085606.jpg

Scars and the tales they tell or hide …

My mom (who is almost 88 years old) just flew home after visiting me for a week. It was one of the quickest good-byes I’ve ever had at an airport. I think we were both afraid … afraid of the tears, afraid in case this is the last time we ever see each other. At her age, you never know. For someone who struggles with depression and BPD (me), you never know. These days in general, you never know. And we now live 2,000 miles apart.

my “Stoic Swede” mom and me in Tahoe

My mom knows that depression has plagued me most of my life, but she doesn’t know about the BPD and I don’t plan on telling her. She’s seen many of my scars. Some she asks about, most she doesn’t. Although she is quite educated and was a nurse and educator, she gets quite anxious at any indication that I might be struggling to cope psychologically with anything or be seeing a psychiatrist or psychologist. It worries her that there’s something wrong with me … Partly because she will then blame herself. So, I keep it to myself. I wore long pants and sleeves while she was here. I was continually conscious of myself and what she could see.

It was a good visit, setting her mind at ease that our move out here was right for me. The mountains help me to feel settled, grounded in a way the midwest did not. The movement of the American River soothes me whenever I am able to be near it and watch the sun reflect off its surface as the water rushes around and over rocks.

American River Canyon

American River Canyon (Photo credit: aresauburn™)

This is only a few miles from my house! The Forest Hill Bridge in the back is the 3rd highest in the US

I continue to have moments when my anxiety and fear of loss and abandonment overtake me. I had some even while she was here and again as I said good-bye. Will those ever go away? I’m beginning to doubt it. That is my cross to bear or fountain of youth to seek. Am I Don Quixote fighting windmills in my mind?

Don Quixote and Sancho Panza

Don Quixote and Sancho Panza (Photo credit: M Kuhn)

In my last post, I was very discouraged about how few people were reading my blog. I contemplated the suicide of my blog and the word suicide was in the title. Suddenly, there were many more hits and several comments from readers saying they were reading, even if they weren’t commenting. Thanks for the comments that were made to that posts. They helped. I guess I need to keep fighting my windmills and some of them might turn out to be real and I can win the fight! Others will taunt me as they will. More scars may come from the fights, but I will fight to the end – never giving up hope for happiness in life. Not just fleeting moments, but deep seated, know it in my bones and it shows in my face real happiness.

I just realized …

I just realized I haven’t written in about a week. I have been busy reading other blogs, playing with my puppy (3 months old), making new friends here through swimming class. TODAY, my outlook is good. I’ve had periods of sadness, anger, anxiety … the gamut that usually torment me … but not for sustained periods. The blogs of others, especially  Jaen Wirefly’s (You Know You’re Borderline When …) posts on mindfulness and Gypsy’s (Through my eyes: Adventures in Boreline Land) reminder to think positively. Others have shared progress going on in their lives (Mandi) and just shared some humorous anecdotes about their family and children (John the Aussie). There are others and you’ve all kept me moving forward!

My husband now is employed, almost full time, although still no benefits, so that takes some of the worry off. He is not pressuring me to go back to work yet. I want to, but don’t feel the time is right just now. Making friends and building that support network, here in a new environment, is what I need to do first. The people in our community are very friendly and welcoming. I’m putting forth the effort to make friends, which I never really did before. I’m struggling with parenting a 16 year old boy – who is a great kid, but is still a 16 year old boy with all that that entails. Thank God I’m not a single parent!

Having more than a day or two in a row without the yuk is kind of scary, but good. I’ve been having days with short periods of distress that I’ve been able to stay with and not succumb to. I appreciate the good days and know the bad days won’t last forever. But I know this “thing” won’t ever leave me for good also, and that’s somewhat distressing – but is what it is and not an excuse to check out. I do have a son to set an example for. 

Can tell I’m getting anxious

The last few days have been a bit more settled. I’ve actually been able to relax a bit and take some time to have some time to talk with Dave, which we haven’t had in a while. Last night, my brother came into town to see my parents and he asked how my parents are doing. I brought him up to speed and then we talked about how my mom is doing with me moving … hard. And how am I doing with moving away from her … hard. Today I found myself keeping really busy. A sure sign of anxiety, avoidance. The busier I am, the less time and energy I have to think about it and less likely I am to get upset.

My mind fills with “what ifs” and “I still need to …” Time passes too quickly yet not quickly enough.It seems just yesterday that I was 4 years old and hiding in the back seat of my mom’s car because I didn’t want her to go to work. I remember how frightened and ashamed I was in second grade when I said I couldn’t go to school “because I couldn’t find my favorite blue sweater” (It was really Iowa Basics testing day) and my mom had to come home from work as a teacher, break a window in the garage to get into the house where she then found me hiding under my bed. She then took me to school. But she was also willing to try and make it work for me to have a horse as a teenager, even though we couldn’t afford it. She tried to do EVERYTHING she could for our family. It always came first. I feel so guilty leaving her, putting myself first, even though I’m now almost 50.  I love you Mom.