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.