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.)

never assume things.

after a week of hyperventilating and crying, i finally talked to my aunt and uncle. i feel like an idiot for overreacting the way i did.

the reason they are not coming is not that they can't deal with my mother. rather, my mother made some incredibly upsetting comments about their children in a letter they received. the letter turned into a renewal of their restraining order. the court sent someone to their house to interview their children and determine any level of abuse. and they are afraid of involving their kids in a possibly upsetting situation with my mother. they also don't want to tempt fate by potentially causing a scene during the wedding.

and i understand. at every level. i had to go through child service interviews because of my mother. i'm mortified that my cousins had to go through the same... how can i ever apologize for her behavior? for the necessity of that invasion into their lives by the court system? i feel like... a heel. a burden. an annoyance.

but now, for the first time, i am starting to lose my hope that my mother is ever going to be hospitalized. every day that goes by makes me feel like she is lost for ever. that she will never be medicated. that she will never be in my life as a mother ought to be. (but didn't i really know that deep down all along?)

having a mentally ill parent is endless grieving. grieving for yourself, and grieving for the incomplete loss of a parent.

and now i have to worry about my brother, and the potential disasters that could happen at this wedding. he will spend his entire wedding worrying about his mother. she could just sit and not cause any problems. but it's not likely. she could start a situation with me - yell at me, curse me out, etc. she could start a situation with someone else. the police could come. my future sister-in-law could be made to feel upset, or uncomfortable. there are so many possible negatives, and the only positive is that my brother would have his "mom" there.

everything is so complicated. and all i want is to find a really wonderful therapist to talk all of this out with in person. cry with. someone to answer my thoughts back with some insight. because while i have come to rely on this blog to air out my thoughts, and it brings me some peace, it is not helping me deal with the situation or the emotional scars that run so deeply.

i am emotionally raw, and my seams are showing.

wedding drama.

my brother is closer to my mother than i will ever be. some people have "his" and "her" towels, but we got "his" and "her" parents. frankly i think i did better in the deal, but i can't blame him for his feelings for his mother. it's a natural thing for him. i find it difficult to even say that i love my mother... most of the time i don't feel anything towards her at all.

but i digress.

my brother is getting married in july. he wants his mother at the wedding. no one else does, including his bride, but she is such a wonderful woman that she is putting up with it anyway. because it's what my brother wants. he wants his mother at his wedding. it's a normal desire.

the problem is that the rest of her family wants nothing to do with her. her sister has a restraining order against her. her brother has a restraining order against her. but when they got engaged, my brother and his fiance talked to everyone to assure them it would be a good time.

i got a text tonight from my brother that the uncle has now pulled his family out of the wedding. they are not going to be there. i'm trying to process this thought, but it can't seem to quite sink in just yet.

if her own daughter, if i can deal with her being at this wedding, why is it so difficult for every one else? how could her brother's hurt be any more than her own daughter? if i can put aside my anger, and resentment, and ANGER, to be at my brother's wedding with her presence, why can't any one else? the wedding isn't about my mother. it isn't about my uncle. it's about my brother, his bride, and the life they are creating. for whatever misguided reason, my brother wants his mother in his life. and no one else's opinion really matters. that's his comfort level, his wants, and his needs.

i am so angry with my uncle, whom i have always loved and adored, that i'm finding it difficult to breathe, let alone sleep. all i want to do is yell and scream at them. how am i supposed to react? i am incredibly close to my uncle and his wife. they have been my lifeline at times when i felt alone with the weight of my mother's illness.

but now, i don't even want to talk to them. let alone see them. i am so outraged at the selfishness, the cruelty, and the meanness...

i don't know what else to do other than keep my mouth shut. but my uncle must realize that the bond i share with my brother is sacred? if not because of the fact that we are siblings, then certainly because we have shared the burden of our mother for 25 years together. we have held each other when we were upset. we have carried each other. we have been each other's strength. and i don't care how righteous my uncle thinks he is being -- my brother will always, ALWAYS, come first in my heart.

oy.