depression

Wishes

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I wish I could say my good mood has lasted but alas it has not.

I can’t pinpoint anything major just a general feeling of disappointment. Our furnace is still out, plus our boiler for our pool and hot tub are out too. We live in a big old drafty house. Something always needs fixing it seems. Thankfully we know what the problem is with our furnace and it is under warranty. We went from having to get a new furnace this morning to having to pay a couple hundred dollars to have it fixed this afternoon which is great. But I spent my whole day dealing with this and not all of the problems are fixed yet. I suppose it’s too much to ask for a switch that I can turn on to make everything work again.

I feel frustration about COVID and how it is tearing families apart for yet another holiday season. I’m angry about family attacking family over politics and vaccination status. If you don’t believe what I believe then you aren’t welcome to be a part of this family anymore but I still care about you bullshit. I’m so angry I want to cut some extended family out of my life forever. The sad thing is at one time I actually thought they might have cared.

I’m sick of hosting the family holidays. I’m angry that my mom never took it over after my grandma was unable to do it anymore. I’m angry I had to take on the responsibility in my mid-20’s after looking at my daughter that age and thinking about what I had to do at her age. I’m angry I never got to be a child or even a young adult without having to parent my parents who just never seem to be able to handle life without burdening their children.

I’m angry for the crime my dad committed. Tomorrow is the 2 year anniversary. I’m angry that some family members brush it aside as if it never happened. I’m angry that some family members harbor anger towards my daughter for turning him in. I’m angry my dad is so shitty of a dad and grandpa he will not be invited to my daughter’s wedding. I’m terribly jealous of people who have supportive parents. Neither my husband nor I have had that. I’m angry my husband and I have a hard time with relationships because no one ever taught us anything useful. What the hell is normal??

I’m angry that my relationship with Arabella is not what I want it to be. I’m angry she wants me to stop telling people she is delusional when she accuses me of starving, abusing, and torturing her. I’m angry that people feel they need to choose sides. I’m angry people question whether or not I’ve been abusive. I’m angry that I have to worry whether or not she will be alive tomorrow.

I’m angry my mom favors my brother Matt over everyone. I’m angry that he abused me as a child and I was never protected. I’m angry that my dad never taught me I was worthy of love and instead told me how stupid I was. I’m angry that I have to live with the aftermath trauma created in my life. I’m angry that I live in fear and am unable to trust.

All these things have been very painful for me. I’m this close to telling people off. I’m not sure what I need to do to get over this new bout of anger. I feel triggered thinking about family. I’m not sure what is wrong. Tis the season I suppose. I did say this time of year is hard for me.

Tonight my husband and I are meeting with a new pastor. We are thinking of leaving our church. My faith has been horrible the last two years since I found out about my dad and with my daughter’s mental health struggles. I don’t feel like I’ve gotten much support from the church. I acknowledge they are not responsible for my faith but at least offer me some guidance besides forgiveness of those who have hurt me.

If you can’t help me because you never experienced any struggles in life I can understand that as I am not an idiot. But don’t make me feel bad for something I didn’t do. I have yet to pray away my PTSD. Don’t say I don’t have enough faith to overcome my anxiety. Maybe, just maybe, I had to be this way to survive and now I’m trapped in it. I don’t know how to be any other way because I don’t remember life before the trauma started. I don’t have fond childhood memories with my parents and siblings. I wish I did.

I like the person I am but I am getting tired of the bullshit.

Fortune cookie wisdom #31

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If you want the rainbow, you have to tolerate the rain.

Wow, this is another good one. There is so much truth in this fortune as well. Oh, if we could only experience the rainbow without all that darn rain. I’m guilty of this as much as everyone else.

I want my life to be full of joy and uplifting experiences. Personally, I am getting really sick of the trauma and drama, my rain. Sometimes I get so caught up in it that I am under a perpetual rain cloud even when the sun is shining.

Yesterday I met with my therapist. I told her how triggered I’ve been lately. It doesn’t take much at this point after all the trauma I’ve been through. The other day I saw a commercial of a teen girl with her loving grandparents. I felt triggered because I don’t have the relationship I want with Arabella and my parents. My kids don’t have the grandparents I had. There is a lot of pain there.

I also heard my daughter Angel scream in the next room. She was goofing around with her fiance. For an instant I was triggered that she was in pain and I needed to help her. It reminded me of when I was young and I heard my brother attack someone and needed to help pull him off of someone. For a couple moments in time it took me back to the fear I lived in a couple decades ago.

I love the holiday season but I am afraid it’s going to be triggering for me. It always has been. Last year was one of the worst because it was the one year anniversary of my daughter Angel finding child porn on my dad’s computer. It tore the whole family apart. I’m anticipating this year will be difficult because Arabella left home on bad terms. The last several times she has reached out to me has been negative. I’m not sure if she is even going to be coming home for Thanksgiving and I’m not sure if I want her to.

I talked to my therapist about my concerns. I think it is unrealistic for me to hope that I won’t be triggered this year. My therapist said that being triggered is not necessarily bad. She said when she first started seeing me that I didn’t feel anything. I was numb. She said being triggered and feeling emotional about the triggers is better than being numb. She said I needed to make sure I didn’t get stuck in the triggers.

I think grief is a process I need to work through. But sometimes I get triggered and stay stuck in the feelings of despair and hopelessness too long. When I don’t want to live anymore that becomes a problem. I have to have realistic expectations otherwise I am setting myself up for more hurt. I cannot change people or circumstances. Sometimes the false hope that this time things will change, this will be the year I don’t get triggered, puts me in a bad place.

But where would I be if life was great all the time? We all have to go through sorrow and pain in order to feel joy. There has to be sunshine and rain in order for there to be a rainbow. If the sun shines all the time it wouldn’t feel special anymore. Life would get boring. Without inspiration my writing would become lackluster.

There is something amazing that happens when the clouds lift, the rain is ending, and the sun is starting to poke through to produce a rainbow.

It has to stop raining soon. I will keep watching for the rainbow.

Fortune cookie wisdom #29

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You emerge victorious from the maze you’ve been travelling in.

Sometimes I feel like a lab rat in a maze. I solve one problem then I’m removed from the maze just to be placed into another maze. It’s hard to find the way out sometimes. Sometimes I search for clues from paths I’ve travelled down before to try to figure things out. But sometimes instead of answers I find myself triggered.

It seems like I find myself triggered by a lot of things lately. For example, last Sunday Paul and I went to church. The pastor was talking about bringing in Christmas season donations of new comforters for the homeless shelter. This is an admirable undertaking to give to an area of our community in need. The problem is that our daughter is currently staying at the same homeless shelter which has been very painful for us. Just mentioning the homeless shelter triggered pain in both of us. I realize it’s not the pastor’s fault for causing us pain. But sometimes that is how being triggered works.

I’ve been feeling triggered by other things lately too like my hair. I know this sounds totally crazy and it is. I mentioned this before but not recently that my autistic/schizophrenic brother Matt physically attacked me on a daily basis throughout my childhood. One of the things he did often was grab my mom and I by our long hair. A ponytail was a sure way to get abused by him. He would just grab on and yank. It was swift and painful. Sometimes he would pull my hair gently in a teasing way and laugh. He pulled my mom’s hair while she was driving which was terrifying. Hair=pain.

There was a point in my life when I was a teenager that I felt sickened by my hair. If I didn’t have long hair my brother couldn’t pull it. I felt this urge to cut off all my long hair. One day I grabbed a scissors and hacked off my hair. He couldn’t hurt me in that way anymore.

Lately I’ve been feeling triggered by my hair again. I couldn’t stand to look at it. I wanted to shave my head. I googled what it means for a woman to shave her head. From my research I gathered that a woman with a shaved head could mean she is confident, rebellious, ready for change, or having a mental break. Oh, it this what my nervous breakdown is going to look like??

Yesterday I went in and got my hair cut shorter than I have ever had it before. I’m still not certain it is short enough. I wondered why did I want to cut off all my hair. I had to go back and examine a time I wanted to do that before. I came to this conclusion. There was a time in my life when I was in a lot of emotional distress. During this time cutting off my hair made me feel like I had some control over what was happening to me. It stopped the abuse of the hair pulling. It was a successful coping mechanism.

Twenty-five years later I am feeling attacked by my daughter. I am under emotional distress. I am in a similar mental state that I was in back then. One of the successful coping mechanisms was cutting off my hair. Is it any wonder why I would want to cut off all my hair? It gives me a false sense of control and getting rid of it makes me feel like I am letting go of something. It makes sense for me to think cutting off my hair could decrease some of my pain because it worked before.

I also decided to update my profile picture on WP. It’s been over 3 years since I changed it last so it is time.

Sifting through the ashes

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There was nothing left after the explosion that left a crater sized hole in my heart. It destroyed everything I built.

I had dreams of what it was going to be like before it existed. I painstakingly wove together the blueprints within my very own walls. I laid out the best foundation I could build with the resources I had. Every day I devoted to it before it fully came into existence. I dreamed of what it would be like. I tried my best to make sure it was built right. It may not have been a magnificent palace like those who had rubies and gold but it wasn’t built out of straw like my own flimsy abode.

It’s all gone now. It’s hard to look back at what was. Were my dreams wasted? I just wanted what everyone else seemed to have, a happy home. All that is left are footprints in the cold concrete. There is a date next to it but it is weathered like an ancestral gravestone.

Every day I go back and sift through the ashes of what’s left. Baby teeth, thankfully not bones, left for the tooth fairy long ago hidden away in a drawer uncovered in the dirt. A teddy bear smeared with soot its fake eye hanging from a thread. A gift to you. I remember when it was brand new. But I can’t think of that now. A tarnished spoon.

Where within the gray ashes is the silver lining of hope? I search trying to find a sign. Maybe there is a flower about to root hidden underground safe from the blast. Maybe something good can come out of this. I dig and dig to find a joker from a playing card. What is the purpose? It’s useless scary and ugly discarded in rejection from a regular hand.

I keep searching for anything left. Maybe if I tried harder to fix the cracks before the explosion it wouldn’t have happened. Maybe it just wasn’t built right. Maybe some of my straw got mixed in with the brick. How come I didn’t notice? I thought I built it strong enough to weather the storms on the outside. But I didn’t weather proof the inside. Why would I even think I might have to? Would padded rooms keep it secure and safe from the bomb blast?

Why did this have to happen anyway? It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It didn’t happen with other houses. Was it my fault? Was the builder to blame? I screamed at the hollow shell, my own emptiness echoing back. I wanted to shatter something but it appears as if everything is already broken.

The rains came and I cried along with it. It was once a beautiful house. Did you see the brilliant colors of the walls like a prism refracted in the brightest sunlight? Did you see it? Don’t you remember how it was? I should’ve inspected every room closer to see if the angles were off. Maybe I could have done something, anything. Maybe I could’ve tried harder.

I search for clues of why it happened in old pictures. You see, the house looked fine there. It was the same house when the shadows cast on it as it was in the bright sunshine.

I would give anything just to be in the house one more time. I’m sorry I didn’t enjoy it more before it was gone. If only I’d known. I want to drive in the driveway and see my house waiting for me to come home. I want you to wave at me through the window like you used to. Even an empty window would be alright if I knew you were still there. I’m not asking for much.

They say I should move on. I shouldn’t keep searching. But I cannot. Even in my dreams I am stuck there looking for things I might have missed. There is nothing left. It can’t be rebuilt. But that doesn’t stop me from going back. I remember what it was like at its finest. I can’t believe it is gone. I can never go back to the carefree days I spent dancing through the halls.

Nothing is the same. Do I think if I keep going back that one day everything will magically be put back together again? Why do I keep searching? Why can’t I let it go?

How can I go on missing a part of my heart? I don’t want to die but I can’t seem to live.

And so it begins

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And so it begins…my daughter stopped taking her meds. My mom told me this as we were on the way to get a massage Tuesday morning. Arabella told my mom she doesn’t have a doctor or dentist anymore which isn’t true. It all started when Arabella blamed me for the insurance not covering the next part of her psych eval. Oh if only I was powerful enough to control the decisions of insurance company coverage.

As we were talking about this my Aunt Jan called my mom. My mom put the call on speaker phone. I hate when she does that as my relationship with my aunt is not on the best terms right now. I was stressed out and really didn’t want to talk. My aunt asked how I was doing and I responded okay. I can muster up an okay I guess. My aunt went on and on about a girl from her church I was briefly friends with before she moved out of the area in grade school. She’s a dog groomer now, isn’t that amazing? She lives in a really big house, isn’t that exciting? The other day she spent the day with her father-in-law, isn’t that wonderful? Like who frickin cares??

We got to the spa and my mom got locker number 13. We laugh because bad luck can be funny. I felt like crying during my massage. My daughter quit taking her meds. How long will it be before we get a call? Don’t think about it. I’m sure things will get better. How could it be worse?

I’m glad you asked. Now rewind back one day to Monday.. I had my physical Monday morning. They did a pap smear and took my blood. I didn’t lie on the depression and anxiety forms which of course was concerning to my doctor. I told her of the insomnia and nightmares when asked. I only have nightmares now when I do dream. I’ve had periods of insomnia and nightmares since grade school.

My doctor asked if I had been drinking to cope with my problems. I told her I would if she thought that would help. Instead she offered me some pills to help me sleep at night and feel less depressed. How ironic. Drugs are not the answer, but they can be. So I said yes I will try them.

Then in the afternoon I went to the dentist because why not torture myself by seeing both the doctor and the dentist on a Monday.

Angel told me Arabella dropped off her (my) car at my mom’s house for her to take in to fix. Apparently it is not her responsibility to take care of it because it is not her car. She told my mom she has enough money to buy her own car. But she doesn’t have a job or any money. Right? Arabella told my mom and Angel that she has thousands of dollars. Maybe it’s not true. Angel said it is true because she saw the money in her account. How can this be?

Angel said she told her sister she wouldn’t tell anyone but I guessed correctly. Lucky me! Arabella decided not to get reduction surgery. Her cup size is at the back end of the alphabet in a hard to find size even online. She is 18 with a baby face. How hard is it to guess how she is making money online? Maybe I should turn off her phone but that is her only form of communication with the few people she still talks to.

Thankfully I didn’t know about this when I met with our florist friend for wedding planning. He asked how my other kids were doing. It somehow seems I am never prepared for that question. When asked I told him Arabella was between jobs at the moment.

I really haven’t told anyone this but I’ve also been having heart palpitations. The doctor thinks it’s anxiety based and I agree. Sometimes I think I am going to have a heart attack. I don’t feel like I’m having a panic attack, it just comes on quickly out of nowhere and goes away after 20 seconds a couple times a month.

I’ve also had joint pain. I’m not sure why. Maybe all the stress and long distance running finally caught up to me. The last several days I’ve had intermittent pain in my ankle. At times it is too painful to walk on, then a couple hours later it is totally fine. I couldn’t figure it out because I didn’t hurt myself in any way. This happened to me over a period of 4 days. This has happened to me before for no reason. I have joint pain in other areas as well. Maybe I’m getting arthritis? I’m awfully stiff when I wake up in the morning too.

Yesterday I got my blood work back from my physical. It showed several serious problem areas. They wanted me to come in for another blood draw. Until my lab appointment I googled the crap out of it convinced I was going to die. I hate to admit but there was a little part of me that didn’t feel disappointed. My mom came over and I talked to her of my impending doom. But then the second lab results came back fine. Lab error. Way to freak an anxious person out! After that my mom received a call saying my brother Matt was having an allergic reaction and had a rash all over his body. But for a moment I was the sick and dying one.

Maybe I should start an anti-gratitude list. There is so much crap I didn’t even tell you about like my dog falling down the stairs. I am so glad this week is almost over because I am so done with it already!

Home life

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I don’t know where my daughter is right now. The last I heard she was planning on living in her car and getting a puppy. She left my parent’s house a couple of days ago.

While Arabella was in inpatient, we received an unusual fee on our bank account. Paul called the bank and they told him Arabella over drafted her custodial account by $150 so they charged us $100 and closed her account. So not only does she not have a job but she also doesn’t have any money. Previous to that, she spent hundreds of dollars a month on gambling and the arcade.

When she moved in with my mom, she begged my mom for a puppy. My mom said no. My mom said it was strange because one day while she was there the neighbors dog ran away and jumped into Arabella’s car. She probably saw that as a sign of some sort.

Arabella wanted my mom to spend $1300 for her to live in a hotel for a week. My mom said no to that too. Arabella called around to the local homeless shelters. They said they had a waiting list and the ones who have been on the streets the longest were going to get help first. It made me angry she would call the shelters. She has several places she can live at, our house and my parents house included. She is wasting resources that other people need.

It also bothers me she is wasting resources by her false accusations against us. Every time when she tells someone she has been neglected or abused they are mandated to report it even if it didn’t happen. I was told while she was in residential that they were mandated to file a report against us. Yeah, that makes sense. Someone who is willing to pay the cost of their first starter house for residential treatment isn’t willing to buy food for their kid?? It’s another waste of resources because someone has to take the time to look into the claim when there are abused and neglected children out there waiting for services.

My mom has been very upset Arabella left her house. She was visiting my brother Luke and his family when Arabella left. My mom left my brother’s early because she was having problems sleeping probably from the stress. Arabella told my mom she was going to live in her car. She was going to get a dog to live in her car with her. She was going to find people who would give her free food for this dog. My mom told her to get a job first to save up for an apartment and later a dog, but Arabella told her she didn’t want her advice.

It’s hard to think of my daughter living in her car with winter coming. But I am glad that once she came back from residential I had her go in to the doctor to get an IUD. So even if she ends up coming back home someday with a puppy it’s better than a baby. She can barely take care of herself right now.

When Paul’s mom was Arabella’s age she got pregnant with Paul. She had similar mental health issues, had dropped out of high school, and Paul didn’t have a dad. Paul’s grandma stepped up to help raise him. At least we don’t have to worry about that right now. It’s hard enough to have a daughter living on the streets not knowing where she is or if she is okay.

Since the first edition of this post this morning, my mom told me that Arabella spent the night in her car and is now living at the homeless shelter. She will be stopping by shortly to pick up more of her items. Paul wants to talk to her but I really don’t. This whole thing has been upsetting for me and I am afraid of losing my temper with her. Typically I am the calm and collected one. But I can only handle so much. I feel really anxious and trapped right now. I just want to leave. I just can’t see myself living the rest of my life feeling this way. But what can I do? I don’t have any control and can’t change things so I guess I’ll have to find a way to live through this somehow. I can’t let this ruin me but it’s hard right now.

Stopping by

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Monday night after 10 I was dozing off on the couch when Arabella came home briefly proclaiming she was just going to get some of her things. She didn’t seem to want to talk which was fine with me as I was feeling rather depressed about the whole situation. I decided to finish getting ready for bed. Paul came in and asked me if I wanted to talk to her. I said I didn’t. After her accusations of starvation, torture, and abuse by my hand specifically I didn’t think that talking was going to do any good.

I heard snippets of Paul’s conversation with her…you need to knock off the accusation bullshit…destroying you mother, she might never recover…can’t come waltzing in here after 10 PM and upset everyone…you need to let us know before you stop by…not welcome here if you can’t apologize to your mother for how you have been treating her…

No one at our house slept well that night. The next morning my mom called. She said she wanted to let me know Arabella has been recording our conversations. I felt sick about it as I thought of our last few conversations in person. She seemed calm as she pushed our buttons. That is why I didn’t want to talk with her because it wasn’t going to go anywhere besides me being upset. I had to protect myself from her abuse and got to the point where enough is enough. She was delusional like this before but this is the first time after she turned 18. I did everything I thought I could do.

She tried to get my mom to listen to the recordings but my mom wanted nothing to do with it. My mom also told me Arabella was planning on checking into an inpatient mental health facility. She did end up checking into the hospital for a couple days. I felt so much better knowing she did that. Finally she was getting some help.

Arabella does not want to talk to me. I haven’t talked to her since she hung up on me twice. Every time I try she pushes me away. I decided if she wanted to talk to me she can call me and I would talk to her. Paul still has been trying to reach out. He tried calling her at the hospital on Saturday and they told him she was discharged. I had a sinking feeling in my gut. I decided to go to the Halloween party on Saturday after all. I couldn’t isolate and let this ruin me. My mom texted that Arabella showed up again at her house while we were on our way to the party. I had a couple of days feeling okay because she was safe but I don’t feel that way anymore.

Not at my best

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I wish I could say that once Paul came back home everything was alright. I want to tell you we were kind and supportive to each other but we were not. Stress does not bring out the best in people. Sadly having a child with serious mental health issues does not build up a marriage as fast as it tears it down.

In some ways I resented Paul for being away for work while I was at home dealing with this crap. I imagined him wining and dining while I was whining and crying. He was joking and having fun at the bar while I was lying in bed at night awake and worried. I suppose it wasn’t like that but that is what I imagined it was like.

Paul started drinking again a week before Arabella came back home from residential. He was trying to quit for a whole year back in December. He didn’t quite make it. There were times over the last couple of weeks I thought he drank too much. At times this was upsetting. Other times I thought it was better than having a heart attack. The stress is too much. It doesn’t bring out the best in us. At times I drank more than I usually do. Because who cares? Who really cares?

Paul was upset with me because I was angry with God. He said I turned away from God. In hard times I seem to have less trust in God while he has more to get him through.

I started to drift away to a place deep within myself to find myself comfortably numb. I didn’t feel anymore, good nor bad. It didn’t matter because there wasn’t much good that I blocked out anyway. I went back to the safe place I lived as a child. Everything became muted. I shut down. I didn’t care about anything. I didn’t want to go to the party I was looking forward to going to for months. I didn’t want to go anywhere and you couldn’t make me go. I listened to the music on my broken playlist I created which contained songs of death, loss, and despair. I noticed one day that I got so numb I didn’t even know what song was playing. I was staring off into space. I was gone.

People kept asking me if I was okay. My best friend asked me how I stayed sane. Who says I am? She was afraid to talk to me about her problems because they are relatively minor compared to what I have to deal with. I don’t like that. I want to be treated like a normal person. It’s okay to talk to someone with more problems than you. It’s okay to feel sad or angry even if you have no reason to feel that way. Friends listen to each other because that’s what friends do.

I was looked upon with wary suspicion by my husband and daughter both whom said their therapists and they were concerned about me. Paul brought me a book home from his therapist called What’s Normal. I guess I can read it and learn what normal people and families are like. Maybe I can even share it with you, but you probably already know.

My own therapist was worried about me. She wanted me to come in every week. She said most people would have a hard time dealing with what I had to deal with in that one week. Although I don’t have an appointment this week she told me to reach out if I needed anything. She knows I like to isolate instead of ask for help. She was the one who told me that people can bring comfort to pain. Woah, my bad I only thought people brought pain. I started to worry maybe they were right and I was not okay. But it is okay to feel angry and sad when you have a really bad week. If you don’t, then something surely is wrong.

When I am in pain I like to sit in the corner alone and lick my wounds. If people try too hard to get in I feel cornered and push them away. I feel hidden in the corner by myself but when others invade my space I feel trapped. I get angry when I think others think I am not strong enough to take care of myself. I spent a lot of time as a child alone mending my wounds.

But this time I realized that shutting down and blocking other people out was not healthy for me. It still hasn’t been easy. It hasn’t been easy on our marriage either. This current struggle has brought up past trauma and unhealthy coping mechanisms for both of us. We are trying to work our way through it the best we can together and alone. I think we need to be patient with each other because neither of us is at our best at the moment. How can we be?

A break

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Compared to the rest of the week, Saturday was all puppies, unicorns, and cute cuddly kitties.

Just a quick recap of the week:

  • My daughter Arabella left home and I wasn’t sure where she was staying.
  • I tripped over my elderly dog and he could barely walk.
  • I got a call saying my brother Luke was on the way to the ER with a possible stroke.
  • At the same time as I got the call about my brother, a neighbor threatened to call the police on my son who was smoking across the street in the woods with his buddies.
  • My brother Matt’s cell phone was stolen by a caregiver in his group home. Not only one, but two caregivers stole money from him and his roommate. The police needed to get involved.
  • Arabella called in the middle of the night from the ER but wouldn’t tell me what was going on.
  • My husband left for a business trip.
  • My microwave started on fire.
  • The power went out.
  • Arabella was delusional and told people that I starved and tortured her. She threatened to dox me.

The week sucked so bad I came up with the idea of having an anti-gratitude list for everything that went wrong during the week. I still might do it. I mean it could be funny. People call me a pessimist anyway. But really, I think it could be a good idea. I could start a list of the good and the bad. On Saturday I could share the bad and on Sunday I could share the good. I will overthink on it some more but I like the idea.

But back to the story…On Saturday I went up north to celebrate my niece’s birthday with Angel, Alex, and his new girlfriend. I felt like I adequately warned Alex’s girlfriend about what she was getting into. I told her she still had time to change her mind about being a part of our family. Alex said his girlfriend has a crazy family too. I highly doubt she would win that contest.

But anyway, we spent the day up north at the family cabin. We went for a walk enjoying the fall colors. I took the scooter out for a ride. I felt so free and happy riding the scooter that I still think I might get a motorcycle license next summer. We played a board game inside with a fire in the fireplace to keep warm. We laughed a lot and for a little while I didn’t worry.

The best part of the day is that everyone got along. Angel and Alex were joking around and laughing together. It meant a lot to me because they don’t always get along. Everything went well with Alex’s girlfriend who also got along with Angel. For a short blip of time there was peace and harmony.

We did talk about Arabella a little. My other kids said I was a wonderful mom and they always loved me. I told them it was hard to understand Arabella’s hatred of me since I never did anything mean to anyone in my whole entire life. Of course, we laughed about the comment I made too. Maybe I was trying to take the wonderful mom thing too far…

I had a great day on Saturday with family. That night I had a great night’s sleep, the best sleep in years. I almost felt happy for awhile. But I couldn’t sustain it for too long. Why can’t it always be like that? Then I started to think about other families with envy. They have what I want all the time, a happy healthy family. It was just a taste of what it could be like.

It was in that moment I realized I left behind the rage I felt burning fiercely for most of the week and replaced it with a deeper darker melancholy.

Lost in this

/ Outrunning my demons / 2 Comments

Friday was a really long day. I’d been up since 3 AM when I saw the text my daughter was in the ER. After she hung up on me when I asked her what was going on, I wasn’t able to go back to sleep. I was tired, I’d been tired for a long time.

Later that afternoon, Arabella called me. She asked if I would co-sign on the apartment that Will and her were planning on moving into. When I was hesitant, Arabella said if I didn’t she would cut me out of her life. She wasn’t going to come home for Thanksgiving.

I told her I wouldn’t even think about co-signing until she did a couple things. I figured with a year’s lease I would be out about $10,000 if she couldn’t pay. She said she was planning on borrowing money for the down payment and the first month’s rent. I told her I wouldn’t feel comfortable signing anything unless she could assure me she had a job. She missed three shifts and they didn’t want her to come back without a doctor’s note. I wasn’t sure she would be able to get one. Get a job or your job back and I will think about it.

Another thing I wanted was for her to put Will’s name on the lease. I don’t know this guy. She said he was 21 and she met him when she was in high school. I have no idea the status of their relationship beyond mutual commiserating about previous suicide attempts. She said Will did not want to be put on a lease because he is poor which probably means he has bad credit.

When I told Arabella the conditions I had for co-signing, she became very angry. She started screaming at me and told me to shut up. Then she said fuck you and hung up on me. I got hung up on twice in one day by her. But what really stung is the last words I heard from my daughter were fuck you.

Then Arabella started texting me she was going expose me and ruin my reputation. She was going to tell everyone I tortured and starved her. She was going to tell everyone who I am and where I live. She said I was a heartless monster and now she would have to live on the streets. She said she was going to totally cut me out of her life.

The whole situation was upsetting to say the least. My husband was out of the state for work. I told him to turn off his location. I didn’t want Arabella to know he wasn’t home. My daughter Angel was very upset. She wanted us to lock the doors because she was afraid her sister would dox us and we might not be safe. We didn’t know anything about this Will guy. Who knows if he would come over?

Later I asked my son if he knew Will from school since they are the same age. Alex said that Will is bad news. He said he got kicked out of his parents house when he was 13 because he was getting into trouble. Sounds like the guy is a real sleaze ball. Wonderful, just wonderful.

Arabella showed up at my parent’s house on Friday. She told my mom that I abused her. This really upset my mom. My mom argued with Arabella and told her she was delusional, but that didn’t change her mind. At least for a couple of days I knew she wasn’t out on the streets.

The whole situation made me very angry. But I also felt fear. I was afraid of what would happen to my daughter. I also felt afraid she could somehow hurt me and the rest of my family. This is going to sound strange, but there is this nagging fear that maybe I am the crazy one. Maybe she does have something she could use against me even though I know I’ve never done anything to deliberately hurt any of my children. Paul said she reminded him of his mother, all bark and no bite. But who knows what someone who is mentally unstable is capable of? Not to mention that she surrounds herself with similar companions.

In my experience with my brother Matt, I always had to be ready. When he heard voices, he could attack at any moment. There’s no doubt I’m bringing my own trauma into the current situation. One of the hardest things is that my daughter’s last words to me were fuck you. I can’t reach her and now I’m starting to lose myself in all of this.