not my year.

please forgive the lack of posts. the fact is that there has been so much going on that i'm still processing how i feel about it all. it's hard to not self-edit when i'm feeling like this.

then again, maybe it's all the sad music i've been listening to all week.

my job is out of control. i had a huge meeting with my crazy boss's boss on the monday after my birthday. i told him everything. how unhappy i was. that i felt like i was an abused spouse in a relationship. that i wanted to learn from someone who would teach me the right way to do things, not the crazy way. in a nutshell, he told me he wants to fire her, but he needed me to document everything i told him. so i wrote. i wrote and wrote. and sent it. i can't shake the feeling that i have betrayed her. i feel guilty. sick to my stomach. like i'm lying to her every time i talk to her. but it had to be done. i'm the only one who can give her boss the answers he's looking for, and if i don't, i'm protecting her by default. i can't be seen that way professionally.

and now, nothing has happened. i sent this huge letter, put myself through 3 days of not sleeping, because i feel so fucking GUILTY. and he hasn't acknowledged it. hasn't called me. i have no idea what's going to happen. i just want it to HAPPEN already, so i can move on and stop feeling so nauseous.

i also spent the better part of today looking at my brother's wedding albums and listening to the weepies. the result of all this moodiness is that i have now made myself so miserable, and depressed, that i don't want to do anything.

i can't shake the feeling that i'm going to spend my entire life alone. that i'm going to continue eating until i drop dead of a heart attack. that i will always be this unloveable person who can't find enough inner strength to tell her boss what she really thinks of her.

because in the end i'm just a chickenshit. i'm afraid of change. i'm afraid of confrontation. i want it all to just... fix itself. i don't want to disturb the balance. i don't want to provoke. and it all has to do with my mother. this is how i learned to survive her. i learned to calm everyone, search out their moods before speaking, give them what they need emotionally to avoid the blowup...

and i'm still this mess of a girl.

happy birthday, buncy

it's something my mother would have said when i was a child.

birthdays are such funny things. this is perhaps the first one where i don't really give a damn about what i do. last year i got all worked up because i invited a bunch of folks to come out and no one did. but not this year. i just want my 3 best friends for dinner out somewhere.

i also want to avoid receiving a package from mom. every year since our estrangement, she sends a box of something she has hand-knit. i cleaned a closet out last night, and found a scarf, a shawl, and a hooded sweater in a box that she sent over the years. i guess the progress is that i didn't immediately rebox them. i put the sweater on. it made me feel weird. wrong. like i could put it on, and think of her, and no one would have to know but me. i wouldn't have to admit to it out loud. i wouldn't have to admit that i like the idea that she made it with her own hands, and she held it, and she sent it with love. i wouldn't have to admit that i wanted that in some small way.

but i guess you're always the little girl you used to be, and you never really get over wanting your mommy. even when you're 28, and still unable to make peace with the fact that she's never coming back.

i have only one birthday wish: that this be a better year for me emotionally. because my heart hurts.

emails and a new house

my mother came up with yet another email address for herself. it's already been blocked. this email was not angry like her last, but rather, the disgustingly sweet, forgiving, peace-offering motherly type. she said she had sent me a package for my birthday.

is it wrong that i'm already trying to figure out how i refuse my signature with ups? i don't need her to have delivery confirmation. i wonder if they "return to sender." whatever is in the box is nothing i want.

i guess i'd be able to understand her if i had my own kids - i'm sure i wouldn't be able to understand the rejection either. but right now, all i want is her complete and total absence from my life, and she is doing everything possible to keep herself in it. short of showing up at my door. that would certainly test my patience at every level. i'd probably just want to hit her.

in other news, my brother is buying a house. he's such an adult. so much more so than i think i will ever be. i wonder where i'll be in 5 years. right now, it hurts to know that he will never return home to ny. that unless i move towards him, that our relationship will continue as it has been for the past few years. i really miss the closeness we had. i miss seeing him all the time. i miss my sister-in-law, who i love just as much. i truly miss being a part of their everyday lives.

do i miss them enough to uproot myself yet again? that is the question.

rumors.

i spoke to my sister-in-law today, who answered the phone, "what's wrong?" the actual reason i had called was to figure out how i could go for a visit as a surprise for my brother's birthday. but it made me realize how much we all are on pins and needles in this family. ALWAYS vigilant. ALWAYS ready for the next drama, episode, catastrophe. we are poised to support and empathize with whichever family member has been targeted by my mother.

i shrugged it off at the time, but now that i've been home to think about it, it's so sad. we are constantly on edge.

she then asked if i had spoken to my brother lately. when i replied no, she proceeded to tell me that one of the emails that i had blocked from my mother had said she planned on coming to my apartment to see me on my birthday, a mere 2 weeks from now. my initial reaction was laughter. "that's nice," i replied. my sister-in-law laughed back. that would be an interesting attempt on her part. if she actually shows up, i hope i act rationally. i hope i act calmly, and ask her to leave in a calm manner. i really don't think i know how i will react. i can only hope i don't lose my temper and scream back at her.

i have to remember she's ill. and treat her as such.

maybe she could just do me the gigantic favor of not showing up. short of an order of protection for harassment/stalking, there really isn't much i can do.

for christie.

it's easy to lose perspective, sometimes, when blogging about your own issues. i have faithfully recorded most of the feelings i'll admit to outloud in this blog when it comes to my mother, my fears, my life... my hopes and dreams. but mostly, it's become my space for venting, finding clarity, finding feedback, and letting all the bad and ugly hang out.

but something happened this week that has made me pause in my own nonsense.

my friend christie is 28. she has been diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. if she is lucky, according to her doctors, she will have another 5 to 10 years of life. christie is an amazing girl. full of life, sarcastic wit, teaches english to inner city kids, and just got married this past july. she is someone who has continually pushed me, and even though we only see each other a few times a year, she has been an important part of my life.

i can't believe this is happening to her.

it puts my own life in perspective. what the hell am i waiting for? i live for work, and not work to live. i wallow at home in misery and sadness because i cannot control my mother's life, and because i can't find the energy to better myself. i'll put it off for another day. do the dishes tomorrow. fall in love next year. put money away for retirement, and dream about the day i get to retire at 55.

but what if there is no next year? what if there is no 55th birthday?

i am probably being dramatic, but i just can't afford to keep living my life the way i have been. something has to change, and it has to change now. there are no guarantees in life, and i've been living like my life is on hold. like i'm waiting for something good to happen. like i'm waiting to magically wake up and find everything different.

but sweetie, this is where we are. you got to make the changes for yourself. and if not now, when??

no, every time i start to feel myself put life on hold again, i'm going to say christie's name. look in the mirror. and realize that i have to live every day as if it were my last. because for christie, it could be. and what a waste that will be.

another letter in the mail.

every time i receive a letter or a postcard in the mail from her, i want to just throw it away. burn it. rip it up into a million pieces and spare myself the pain and the hurt of seeing her handwriting. depending on what she writes, it's easy for me to tell if it was written on a good day or a bad one. this one that i received was definitely written when she was lucid. two pages of her scribble, begging forgiveness, chastising me for being just as horrible to her, and asking me to visit her 8 hours away.

she writes: " you have acted horribly, but i can forgive because i am not with out blame for denying you so often. that's part of my handicap. i beg you to excuse the wandering speculations of a pent up spirit. we could start on new ground. you could visit."

i can't excuse. i can't forgive. i can't start a relationship with her all over again. the letter arrived the day after the police showed up at my door. further proof that her lucid moments are short and few between. the delusions are still the norm. and even after shutting the door, she is still affecting my ability to live my life. i have been a basket case all week. my job is affected. my spirit is affected. i can't fall asleep, and i don't want to get out of bed. and through all this, a small, still voice from the back of my head telling me it's time to find a therapist before i drown in this (yet) again.

the last time i felt this unhappy, i quit grad school, changed careers, and moved 4 hours away. and i don't want to do that again.

i'm so sorry, but i just can't.

depression and the police.

i am fighting this depression with every inch of my being, but i can't find the energy. i spent the entire day in bed yesterday, waking up only to watch movies, and then answer the door for the police at 9 pm. the officer was nice, but i was crying. i told him i felt harassed. stalked by my own mother. and he basically said that the police never mind coming, and they have to cover their own ass. again i had to explain to a cop why my mother calls them, what her delusions are, and the waste of time it is for them. i asked if there was any way to stop them from coming, since it upsets me so much. he said no. they have to come.

in a ridiculous attempt at distracting myself, i am now going to drive 3 hours to massachusetts. i'm telling myself its to drop off my violin at my violin man, but i'm really going just to get out of the house.

i am so very sad lately.

tonight's group meeting

The support group that I joined doubled in size tonight. Usually there are only 3 of us. Tonight there were 6. In the 11 months that i've been attending, this was the first time any one new had come along. The 3 individuals that came all shared their story - some with tears, some with stoicism. I became completely unraveled. There was so much to relate to - and even some discoveries for my own benefit - that I feel unable to sleep. There is so much I want to rethink. Mull over. Investigate.

I was so upset I ran to the nearest Target and bought comfort items (without realizing I was doing it.) A fleece bathrobe, new sheets, PJ bottoms, diet pepsi, a new trash can for the kitchen to make me feel like I had cleaned something...

I was so incredibly triggered. The topic was disagreements, and our comfort with them. I wound up talking about the disagreements I have with myself almost daily. Voicing that I am constantly disagreeing with myself because while I have cut my mother off, and drawn the proverbial line in the sand, I still crave information about her, and her state of being. I was reliving every fear and frustration of not being able to heal her - save her - get her to the hospital. The hopelessness and regret and guilt. The wish my brother would seek some kind of help instead of acting as if he were impervious. Instead of cutting out his own family in favor of his wife's.

One of the newcomers expressed fears about the future - what would happen when he married, when he moved out of the house. I swear all I wanted to do was wrap him in my arms, tell him it was OK if he wanted to leave his ill mother, that he was allowed to think about his own needs, that he was going to have to figure out his own boundaries, and that he would have a life without the burden of caring for his mother. But I can't do that. I can't even make those claims to myself, let alone someone else. But always that need and desire to help and soothe everyone but myself. It never goes away. I will continue to put everyone else in front of myself.

I thought I had made progress over the past year. But maybe I haven't. Why else would I have lost it the way that I did? Why do I still feel like this? Like the weight on my shoulders will not let go, and that I just want to eat, eat, eat until I throw up?

I guess in truth I wanted him to put his arms around me, and tell me everything is going to be ok. I need that from someone else. I need a hug. I need a shoulder to cry on.

promises, promises.

tonight was actually a good break from all the living within my own head. i went to my aunt and uncle's house for dinner. (my mom's brother and his wife.) they are the only people on my mother's side that i truly feel comfortable with. i've written in previous posts about how much they have stood by me through the years - how they've never made me feel like "****'s daughter", but rather, an independent person not defined by her mother's craziness. it's amazing how that insecurity never really leaves me. my love for my uncle and aunt is very, very deep, and i'm lucky to have such an open, wonderful relationship with them. ever since my grandfather passed away, they really are the only people tying me to my mother's side. i have serious issues with my mom's sister (also in previous posts), and the rest of my mom's cousins absolutely keep their distance because of my mother. i am sure of it.

anywho... i digress.

the night was nice. we had dinner. we watched glee with my 14-year-old cousin, who pronounced it a "geek" show. i wholeheartedly agreed, but i love it anyway. we talked. we laughed. i left feeling so light. loved. full of love. fiercely proud of my family, and realizing, truly realizing for the first time in a long time that i avoid my family. i completely, utterly, hide within my job. i don't see them more often because of my "job".

the excuses need to stop. i'm living my life for all the wrong reasons. that's what it feels like.

i was listening to some extremely moody shawn colvin music on the ride home, and asked myself: "what would make you a happier person right now? what's important to get you out of this depression?" because that's what i've been doing all month. i know it. i spent last saturday just being sad. left the house because i felt like crying, and went walking in the woods. but instead, walked around the woods feeling like crying. went to work on sunday, but spent the day on the verge of tears. no explanation. no reason that i can rationally explain. i was just... sad. i didn't do the dishes. i didn't clean the house. i barely slept this week. i've just spent the past two hours online reading posts on NAMI and NNAAMI. i have to be at work 5 hours from now, which means i won't sleep AGAIN.

so i'm sad. why?

1. i feel unproductive.

2. i feel fat.

3. i feel unloveable.

4. i hate working for my boss.

i've made this list before. i've promised myself before that i would work on all of this. but i can't COMMIT to it. what's the answer? how do i fix it?

1. get help. find a counselor.

2. make a list, and break it down into manageable pieces.

3. stop tolerating my boss's abuse.

4. get out and do stuff. get active. go for a walk every day.

ENOUGH, girl. ENOUGH. you're punishing yourself.

eureka!

i am coming to slowly realize this important thing:

i think my boss reminds me slightly of my mother. that i am constantly on guard for her feelings and moods, because i am scared of an implosion. that everything i say to her is meant to either calm or keep calm. that our work relationship affects my personal life. and that i am always anxious, on a consistent daily basis, fearing the impending emotional roller coaster of the day.

after a year of wondering what it is that makes me "suck" at my job, i think this is it. i don't suck. i just work for someone who paralyzes me.

and now, how i go about fixing or improving this? other than asking for a transfer?

the book that is going to change my life

how is it possible i haven't read this one yet? "my parent's keeper: adult children of the emotionally disturbed" by eva marian brown. i read page after page, highlighting sentences whenever i feel my heart scream out, "YES! THIS IS YOU!!" and there are so many to highlight. there are some issues that don't immediately apply to me, but oh my goodness.

this is the same kind of revelation i had when i first joined my "adult children of the MI" support group, which is the one and only thing i do for "myself" every month. this is life. changing. i think to digest this properly, i'm going to have to start with a thought from the book and write out my emotional responses. i feel like this is the right course.

the first one i'm mulling over is:

"over the years, as you repeatedly experience your parent's inadequacy in responding to your feelings, and as you witness their own internal chaos, you build a life around being in control. being in control becomes the most important thing in your life; your survival depends upon it."

next entry.

identity theft

she tried to claim money that legally belongs to me using my address with her name. instead of sending in the claim, she sent it to me with a letter declaring me as "ms. millipede of more than one persona." whatever the f that means.

in the meantime, i am extraordinarily concerned that she used MY address with her name to attempt to collect an old paycheck from a former employer. an order of protection wouldn't work with this, would it? it's not harassment. and she didn't actually steal the money, so it's not theft.

but it's definitely disturbing. and extremely, extremely nervy.

regret.

i will admit that the anger has dissipated. after getting mom's email, i went through my "mom" folder in my email, and found some incredibly mean emails i had sent right after her breakdown. i was cruel. hurtful. hateful, even. i said things that i should not have, but i know the place they were coming from.

three years ago, she was harassing me at work. she was sending me incredibly upsetting and cryptic emails. she was interfering with my brother's life. she was leaving me to pick myself up yet again. she was jailed. she was released. i couldn't understand why she would stop the medication. i couldn't understand WHY she was choosing to be sick over being my parent. i tried to tell her so many times about the consequences of her choices. i wrote her an email that flat-out said that she would not be welcome in my life, or that of my future children, if she chose to not take medication. and rationally, i can't comprehend giving up that joy. but i am not mentally ill - she is. i have no idea what kind of thought process she has - even though i can guess at the meanings behind the bizarre letters.

i guess what i'm saying is that i feel bad about the emails i sent her all those years ago, and their tone. but i know why i sent them - i was trying to scare her "straight". i was trying to get her back on track. i was trying to protect my brother. and it didn't work. none of it worked.

what i'm saying is that i'm not as angry anymore. but i'm still determined. mostly, i just feel bad for her. i pity her.

whatever that means for now.

and one got through.

even after i block her email address, she still finds a way to get past the barricade. this is what i received today, hours into one of the worst days at work i've had in a while. the email is addressed to my father, with myself and my brother cc'ed.

possibly enough to start the novel finally? sigh.

"I apologize for emails in August which were the

result of a medication change backfire and
an attempted robbing/mugging in the park on August 28th which
caused a BP fear spike manic cycle.

The following coincidence ( I assume it is providence)has caused me
to consider filing an order of protection (do not bother) petition
here in Rochester:

1. A sister perhaps of your mother (possibly originally from
Queens County) has moved in here at Plymouth G. She calls herself
Dorothy and lives up on the 7th floor. She has some friends who
moved in too who are originally from Point Lookout apparently.
These are "Edward and Mary" There is also a daughter with a car
in her apparent 50s who lives here
2. There is some indication that as teens, my kids
visited her up here and became attached to her;
3. Also, that the first pair live up here and see her
4. There is illegal surveillance of my broadband laptop (Time Warner Cable)not wireless
5. There have been several entries into my apartment in the past year
with vandalism which was instigated
6. I believe my original son is gone and that concealed; there is
some indication he is living in Queens County NY --that's my opinion and
I have a newspaper photo taken by Ruth as proof
7.On 8/28th I was mugged and robbed at a park bench here--by a tenant's relative here probably

As such, I feel I am being targeted as a crime victim for the future
I feel strongly that my parental role has been surplanted by your mom
and she is mentally ill too
there is some reason to believe she commits criminal acts to defend herself
when threatened including libel, coercion and sabotaging my healthy career through string pulling;
in fact, my kids have been stolen de facto and brainwashed or coerced to stay away from me
(they lose eternity or some such insanity)
I feel I need a stronger protection in light of a resume of the
kinds of things which forced me to leave Nassau and take a new legal name
in fact, it is obviously coincidental that your mother is up here in my building,
neighborhood and city--and her friends back home also moved up here.

I am being very up front with you.
I am no longer a well girl.
I am retired and disabled--and chose my present course to avoid stressors or being a victim.
I very much deserve my children and my mother role is intrinsic to my psychological health and survival.

I will press a petition soon. I mean no harm or inconvenience.
I do not intend to move again for the 14th time.
The ball is in your court.

My opinion is that you should move mom into assisted living where she can be monitored by
yourself and
take over her house as her rightful power of attorney.
You should return my children to their non-brainwashed state.
You should retrieve my son and salvage him.
You should restore some form of communication between mom and kids
as beneficial--as a compassionate act as a former friend and lover of mine.

That is all until I file that petition. And on my part, I am in better shape
for September and will resist further BP emails or phone calls, which no doubt--is quite hard.

Regards,"

another email address to block. another string of paranoid hate-filled sentences that i want to forget. another moment of having to squash the urge of writing her back with angry words.

i also received another postcard from her yesterday.

this is why i was so happy when i wasn't hearing from her. it was so much easier to compartmentalize.

give me just one thing

when my heart can't take anymore sadness over my mother, it helps to have other things in my life that are not "crazy." i have a definite need to compartmentalize my life, in a certain way:

"crazy mom"

"awesome job"

"empty love life"

"amazing family"

"wonderful friends"

"talents and hobbies"

"personal self-hatred"

when the "crazy mom" piles up, i lean back on the "talents and hobbies", the "amazing family," the "wonderful friends"... but if these piles become out of whack, or weighted down to one side of the scale, everything becomes affected.

lately, the scale is tipping in the wrong direction. the mom, the job, the absence of friends, the guy who i went on two dates with but can't commit to liking enough to pursue... these things just outweigh the good, and i start to flounder. i sleep for more hours than i should. i avoid social scenes. i barricade myself behind a wall of bull. i am trying, ever so slowly, to climb out. it would be so much easier if my boss would stop being such a jerk. being unhappy outside of work always balanced with being happy at work. but this week has been such a burden.

i want one thing to go in the good direction. that would make me feel hopeful.

hello, mr. police man. long time, no see.

i should have known after receiving that afore-mentioned postcard that a visit from the local police was coming up. this is mom's MO, after all. at least this time, it was at my home at 9:30 in the morning, instead of 3 am with roommates in the house.

this time was easier than the last. the first thing out of the officer's mouth was "are you the beneficiary for your mother?" i had a minor heart attack. no one wants to hear that. it makes it sound like she died. he clarified. "or power of attorney? someone contacted us that you had been out of touch since 2006." i sighed. and then relayed the entire story.

the upside of all of this is that they asked me whether i wanted them to confirm my whereabouts and wellbeing to my mother. i said, "absolutely not. i want no contact with her at all." i also now have two very nice police sargeants in the know about my mother's illness, her usual delusions, her current whereabouts, and her priors.

i texted my brother afterwards, and he wrote back that he had a visit from the cops two days ago, and his wife wants an order of protection. i wrote back, "maybe she'll get hospitalized finally."

pipe dream, chica. not gonna happen.

what do i do?

she sent me a postcard dated 8/23 that says she's cured herself with sam-e and that she wants to see me.

that same day, she wrote on her blog the following:

"So I am in despair. I have to end myself.
I cannot isolate myself or end the carnage."

i have no idea what to do. i don't believe she would ever hurt herself. this is just another dramatic moment in her mind. but it's still scary as hell.

damnit.

on her blog, my mom said she tried zyprexa but threw it out because her face went numb. this means she was trying to be on medication, all on her own.

i don't understand.

sleeplessness. and hugs.

despite all the optimism of late for my own growth, i have not slept in two nights, searching online about kids of the mentally ill, reading articles and stories, and replaying old memories in my mind.

i held one of my employees in my arms today for 30 minutes because she was crying, and having a panic attack. part of my job is to nurture others and help them become better people through their job. i love the work i do, and the people i work with.

but it seemed ironic that i was the comforter for kim today - that she needed to hug me to get through a panic episode. (i damn near cried when she sought me out after i calmed her down the first time, and whispered "can you just hold me? i'm feeling so scared.") because honestly, i was the one who really needed that hug. i'm scared of so many things.

i can't stop thinking about my mother recently. i can't stop reading her blog, and staring at an old photo of her. i am moving on with life, but i still feel an empty hole. and i'm voraciously searching out anything online that will help me feel better, or less alone in the world. i'm scared of losing my mother, which is irrational, as i've already lost her. but she's out there, somewhere, right?

i think she's getting worse.

it's incredible, sometimes. i get myself into a lull where i no longer think of her every single moment. and then some tiny thread brings my thoughts back to her - where she is, how she is, if she's harassing people (and who they are), whether or not she'll ever show up at my door. these thoughts are usually pushed aside. i've become so talented at hiding it all again. it rises up, and i squash it back down. there are times when the ride is harder than others.

the past few weeks have been good ones. i really believe i've pulled myself out of the depressive stupor i was in for most of the past year. i'm making plans, seeing friends, filling up my days with activities - even though i still can't seem to get the hang of doing the dishes.

and then there it is again - that worry. that fear. that d r e a d. like a knot in my throat that i can't loosen, and a song comes on the playlist and i lose it. an emotional cutter to the bitter end, i pull up her blog online and read. it's so hard to follow the thoughts she has. such disjointed bits and pieces - i can recognize names and places that she is substituting or altering to fit the current illusions, and translate as best i can.

i don't know why i read it tonight - i had been feeling so good. but there it was on my screen. a long, painful entry dated july 24th. i know she is alive. i know she took a trip down near my hometown a few weeks ago. i know she is seriously hallucinating her consistent "starving, abused children" scenario where she paints herself as mother mary sent by jesus to save them. i know that she is hurt by my absence. i am hurting her.

i don't want to hurt her. that's never been my intention. there is a fundamental piece of me that knows, absolutely KNOWS, that i cannot allow her into my life again. i know the pain, and the frustration, and the devastation that it causes. but the incredible guilt - the incredible weight of knowing that i am hurting my mother is suffocating.

rationally, i know i am doing the best thing for myself. but emotionally - emotionally, i am still the hurt little girl, feeling guilty for hurting her, for cutting her off, for not being able to help her, for not being a good daughter.

i am drowning in emotional regrets that i cannot rationalize to myself, and i hate it. i hate this feeling. i hate that i am still crying over her. crying for her. and for us.

sigh of relief.

the wedding was wonderful. beautiful. emotional. i spent half the time wanting to shoot half my family, and the other half smiling and loving every moment. my brother was so incredibly happy. his wife is such a beautiful person.

and my mother did not crash the party.

i knew in my heart that she wouldn't show. she has moments of clarity where she can understand how serious it would have been if she did. but everyone kept asking me. my 90-year-old grandmother said loudly, in front of everyone, "well, i guess the ****** ghost didn't make her appearance." i wanted to die. she's not a ghost. she's just mentally ill.

the kids are off on their honeymoon, and i'm still glowing from watching start their own family together.

i'd be lying if i said i didn't spend the whole time wishing i had someone in my life as well. i want what they have, and what they are building.

mishmash emotions.

my brother's wedding is this weekend. i love him and his wife-to-be so much. it hurts that he asked me to find some recent pics of my mom so he could leave them with security at the front desk of the wedding venue.

finding pics of my mother is hard. out of 12,000 photos on my computer, there are only five photos from the last ten years that i have of her. 3 were with me at my college graduation (where i lean into my brother and away from her. no surprise.) 1 was at her grad school graduation (when we were still talking.) and 1 was her head shot from her online "bookstore" on lulu.com. i snatched this one on my own.

as a typical paranoid schizo, my mother has given herself a new name as well as her birth name. she actually changed it legally to this "second name" - so, using her old name, her new name, and google, i found more than i wanted.

she wrote poetry last year about me. about my brother. and it's heartbreaking poetry. when i see what she writes, or thinks, it hurts me because i know that there is a part of her that feels that way. but in the next sentence, there is more proof that she is still completely out of touch with reality. i cannot let that back into my life. i just can't.

in the meantime, there was a recent pic of her on one of these websites. she has longer hair than i remember. and she freakishly looked like me. i never thought she looked like me before. (or is it that i looked like her?)

either way, i feel depressed a bit now. the wedding is going to be bittersweet. it's an affair she wants to be at, but is not welcomed. and all i can do is pray to my g-d that she doesn't make an unscheduled appearance... how could i protect my brother from that?

no, this is the beginning.

ok. i stopped bitching and whining. i took a good look at myself two weeks ago, and shored up every resource i had, and made some changes. i don't know where all the optimism came from, but it was there, all of a sudden. crystal clear and magnificent.

and this voice in my head: "you have the strength for this. if you have the strength for your mother, you have the strength for this."

why shouldn't i be happy? i deserve it!

perhaps this is the deep end.

i came to admit some truths to myself this week, after returning from visiting with my brother and his fiance. and while none of this is a revelation, i am stunningly clear on the fact that i am clawing my way out of yet another depression.

i am able to say outloud:

1 - that i am dreadfully unhappy with my personal life

2 - that i lead two lives: the happy professional, and the miserable hermit

3 - that i am disappointed that my brother doesn't need me anymore

4 - that i am still unable to shut my mother's influence out completely

5 - that i spend most of my day completely hating myself.

i don't know how to fix all this. i mean, i DO know how to fix it. but i am unable to start the process. unable, or unwilling? probably the latter.

when did i get so lazy when it came to changing myself? this was always such an easy thing to start. fire myself up, and get out there and try it. now, i just want to sleep, and sit, and watch cartoons so that i don't have to do the dishes, or plan, or exercise, or make decisions. i hide in this cozy little apartment until i am FORCED to take action. when the dishes are overflowing, and i have no clean spoons. when i am out of socks.

i don't care.

i don't care about any of it.

i just want to stay in this curled up little ball, and stop moving. stop going to work. stop caring about anything.

my brain, however, is fighting this desire, but only to a point. my sad little heart is winning. and i can't help but wonder if all the dreams about my mother this week have something to do with the weight on my heart.

no, no. this is me. this is about me. i truly hate so many things about myself, that i cannot see how anyone else would ever value them. i know intellectually that this must start with my own self-image. but frankly, i think i'm going to just go to bed. have a shot of jameson. and ignore the incredible beast of guilt gnawing on my conscience.

who could ever love a fat girl?

mother's day hurts

this month has been hard. particularly hard. my job is still interfering with my life, and my general state of mind. i can't seem to get from one day to the next without crying at some point. this is not good. i am not ok.

with all the unhappiness at work, it's now becoming increasingly obvious to me that i am so very, very unhappy in life. i told my group of ladies last night that i felt like i was stagnant, running in circles, and too lazy to change anything. i said, "i wish i was in the mood for healing." because honestly, my entire week means surviving from one weekend to the next.

and in the middle of all this, "woe is me," fucking mother's day is coming. this is mother's day #4 without a mother. usually, this holiday would revolve around seeing my grandmother. she spent so much time as my substitute that i know in my heart she is part mother to me as well. but i am working on mother's day. seeing mothers and kids together. and i'm going to lose it a little bit.

sunday will be the kind of day that i want to curl into a ball and drink a bottle of jameson. i'd like to forget all about it. and yes, i know it's a made-up, hallmark holiday, but it still hurts. a dull, slow pain in my heart.

even now, i feel like crying.

something's gotta give.

she's a busy little bee.

the last two weeks have been telling. i fear we are approaching another explosion, but at the same time, i'm almost looking forward to some kind of movement on the whole matter. we've been at such a stalemate.

my mother called my brother's new in-laws to threaten them for "taking away her son".

she called her sister, who has a restraining order.

she mentioned in the phone call that she was coming back from rochester for a visit.

i was called by the vp of hr for my company about calls my mother has been making to their offices.

my father got one of the strangest calls she's ever made.

and, in what disturbs me the most, my "friends" on facebook have been getting random emails from my mother asking for information about my whereabouts.

i am patiently trying to process all of this. but impatiently hoping it all leads to a hospital ward.

sometimes it's better not to look.

a recent excerpt from my mother's blog, which i wish i didn't feel the need to see every once in a while. so she's alive. definitely not on medication.

i don't know why i punish myself like this.

but on to the excerpt:

"Now to the real news. I have not spoken to my daughter in about 12 months. My son broke off all communication with me around January 1st, 2010.

And now, no matter how hard I try, I cannot assure myself that either one is okay.
All sorts of imaginings annoy me, at all hours of the day.
***** is dead. ******* is going to be dead.

In some ways, I am cruising for a bruising. For they simply don't want to be found.
So, this woman who had 2 children was not allowed to continue the illusion she was a mother.

Sometimes I think of the boy in Terry Pelikan's photo--the one who is like a twin of mine. Surely she must have borrowed him from Mike Polaski.

At this juncture, I have tried:
to find out from the college; to find out from Carol *******; to find out from their father; from the **********

(Do you know why I am really nervous?) In 1992, when I left my husband and we separated--I rented a cheap room from ***** ******, a Con Ed worker. His house on Rising Lane in Hicksville New York was a refuge. Shortly after I left, ***** was killed. In a newspaper article it was a work-related accident. I am convinced his mother, whom I met, blamed me for his "accident". This is simply because my son has become involved with people he calls *****, then *****, then ********. And he has disappeared. Is it "an eye for an eye; a tooth for a tooth"?

As for my daughter, she left her job or was fired some time ago. It was kept from me. I found she was not at the address in Flatbush Brooklyn she claimed to be living. Her whereabouts have been deliberately kept from me for some time.

Do you know how stupid they brilliant kids are? They cut off a 2, a lifeline. Their secrecy has made it impossible to protect them."

with spring comes the sun.

slowly but surely, i am pulling myself out of this. i still hate my boss. i still hate my job, as it exists now. but i am making some small changes -

i'm taking a photography class.

i'm trying (again) to lose some weight. just a little.

i'm seeing friends on weekends.

i'm having them over for dinner in two weeks.

i'm taking a vacation.

not sure how long the optimism will last, but i'll take it.

she sent me an email last week asking where i was... and that she feels like we haven't spoken in two years. i didn't write back.

driving

i was in the car for a bit on sunday, and found myself thinking about my mother for the first time in a week. i could actually hear myself say, "wait, when was the last time...?" i don't know what this means. maybe i'm hurting less lately.

she was so beautiful.

i almost wanted to keep the car going all the way up to rochester just to check on her.

had to remind myself that this isn't who she is anymore. we can't go back.

happy birthday, brother.

it's funny how you can read the last six months worth of your thoughts, and realize that you still think most of them. that nothing has changed. that you are still complaining about the same bullshit.

i'm tired of all of it.

i'm sick of the depression.

but still find my lazy ass sitting at this computer, reading facebook profiles to live vicariously through others, fantasizing about the life i could be having, getting jealous over the lives my friends have, and generally telling myself over and over again in my head, "you're fat. you're a lazy bitch. and you don't deserve anything happy. no one will ever love you like this."

this speech goes on repeat for hours. hours. so i read the new york times. or cuteoverload. or shop online for clothes i know won't fit. or watch youtube videos of other people's lives. or think about vacations i could take if i just ran up my credit card a little more.

what kind of existence is this?

i find myself asking, well, even if your mother did manage to check herself into a hospital, would it make any difference in how you see yourself?

the answer, of course, is no.

this unhappiness, this depression, really doesn't have much to do with my mother. i'm starting to understand that now. it's all to do with me. the absolute self-hatred and self-abuse that i inflict upon myself.

i just want to be over it already. take a page from a photo back in the day when i was smiling for real, and not just for a customer's sake.

but it's so hard to climb out of this. i'm trying. slowly. but there's always something to make me slip right back down.

i miss my brother. spending time with him always makes me feel like i'm worth something. just look at him now. he's amazing. all those years of our heartache, of my protecting him, of my pushing and worry and anxiety that he was ok, his drug addiction and his own struggles with depression, resulted in this incredible guy. and it makes me feel like the top of the world, because i know that he validates my life. the indelible memories of us with her. the awkward-as-fuck car rides to her apartment-of-the-month. the screaming matches. the fact that he was the only person for so many years that would listen to my anxieties and fears, and could actually understand them, without just saying, "oh, i'm so sorry." the idea that someday we could heal ourselves with the new friends and families we would create. all these twisted-up memories, and hopes, and dreams that i shared with someone.

maybe that's what i'm really talking about. the ability to share my life with someone. a witness to the good, the bad, the bullshit. i want to share all these feelings with someone, but i'm unwilling to believe there's anyone who would ever want to kiss me/love me/hold me as i am.

(amazing how it is still hard to write exactly what i'm feeling. i constantly want to edit this stream of consciousness.)

he really did it?

my brother actually called my mother and told her he doesn't want her at the wedding. he has had discussions with his fiance about finding the perfect balance to keep her at enough of a distance not to piss him off too much... he's strategically positioning himself to avoid the "i'm never talking to her again" path.

this is so unlike him it almost scares me. after all this time, he's growing up. he doesn't need me as much anymore to push him in the right direction or step in for him. he's doing it on his own.

i'm so used to protecting him that i don't know how to let go of that burden.

this could potentially be the weirdest year yet.

group session for january

last night was my second time at the "kids of crazy parents" meeting. that's what i call it. so much easier than saying "adult children of the mentally ill." just paraphrase it so normal people understand what you're talking about.

there's something about this group of women that unravels me in good ways, and bad. These women are twice my age, and each has such a different story than mine. But then there are the threads that keep coming up for all of us. We all have these similar fears, and pitfalls, and shortcomings, and patterns.

i wish i could put into adequate words how much it meant to me to find real people in the world who i can truly relate to about my mother. perhaps i'm replacing the closeness i had with my brother with strangers, but the fact of the matter is that these women understand on a level that i've never experienced before. and i've spent a total of 4 hours with them. that's it. those 4 hours were enough to bring a sense of kinship so strong that it leaves me feeling stronger and more validated than i ever have before.

all the sharing, and reliving old fears, took their toll today at work. i was mostly a basket case. i continue to derail and belittle myself in every situation at work, and my super-demanding boss is not letting up on me, even after i tell her how fragile i am.

i wish i could have six months off. six months paid to go and take care of myself the way i should. if i didn't work 50 hours a week, i'd go to the gym more often. i'd try to fix some of the damage. i'd find a therapist. but my job prevents me from doing little more than sleep and eat in the hours between my shifts.

i love my job. but lately i wonder if it is an enabler in my poor choice of lifestyle.

old movies.

my father and his family took me out for my 27th birthday on new year's day. surprised myself this year by not making any resolutions at all. most likely this is due to the fact that i have too many to pick. but i digress.

after dinner, my grandmother (more mother to me, really) said she had some old home movies and that we (my father, his sister, and my cousin) should watch one. i found one labeled with my fourth birthday on it. a 23-year-old moment in time frozen in a celluloid web, which i had no idea existed until now.

and how i wish i could put into words all the feelings that occurred as i watched it. it's going to have to remain free form, because there are too many, and no way to prioritize, organize, or otherwise sort through them.

my grandparents -- all four of them, in one room. my mother's mother, and the fact that i did not recognize her because it was in the years before my first memory of her - lying in a hospital bed from the stroke and the cancer that would eventually lead to her death. they were all there. in one place, at one time. they collectively missed so many moments of my life. the bat mitzvah. the graduations. that recital where i finally got to sing with a full orchestra. all those meaningless little achievements up until now.

my mother -- so young. it was hard to even listen to her voice. so young. so pretty. with acne, just like me. but even with the joy around her, i could see in the video a moment where she was outcasting herself. removing herself. at her core, uncomfortable.

my father -- also so young. excited new father. his two year old son roaming around from grandpa's legs, to his aunt's lap, to his sister's room, babbling baby talk all the way. my father, so blissfully unaware of the marital heartbreak he would suffer.

seeing my parents, in one room, conversing, loving, acting like a unit instead of adversaries... the promise of the future and the young children they were raising in that crappy little garden apartment in suburbia.

and there i was - beautiful. running around in a tutu. doing plies. showing off. playing with my cousin, who i barely talk to now.

was it real? did it actually happen? that big family was in one room, at one time, without fighting? it seemed like someone else's life on that tv screen. but i still squealed to see my childhood bedroom, and felt the flood of memories for that little blue table with the playskool chairs, the ugly shag mudyellow carpet, the ancient mac computer on my mother's work desk... i don't remember many moments of my childhood. and that video is the antithesis of what i can remember.

and how i wish... how i wish that someday i can have that kind of family again. one that i will build. one that i will cherish and love. someday, i wish, someone will fall in love with me, and help me find the beautiful little tutu-wearing kid i used to be, and teach me how to trust and love again.

(i want that mommy back. but i can't. we can't ever go back to that.)