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.