Worry

Little to no provocation 

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I can feel the gentle, slow downward descent of my mood. My heart in utter despair. I cry with little or no provocation. I haven’t slept for 3 days. It takes forever to fall asleep. I wake in the middle of the night, lying awake for hours. I awake again at the crack of dawn exhausted. I’m not hungry. I can’t eat without acid reflux. I worry about the things I can’t control. I pace the floor. Any attempts to rest or nap leave me frustratingly wide awake. I wouldn’t wish the hormonal fluctuations of a middle aged woman on anyone. 

It was harder this week cleaning out my grandma’s house. The memories some of the items brought back were almost too painful to bear. When I try to reach out to my grandma for comfort, she is not there. What I wouldn’t give to hear her voice again or to even smell the scent of her perfume on her clothes. All I smell is dust and decay. Emptiness. Nothingness. 

It is incredibly stupid to cry over the meaningless little items that I lost. I can mourn over the stupid little stove, but can’t cry over the friends and family that autism cost me and my family? The childhood family vacations with the whole family that never happened? I can’t even remember one time that we went out to eat together as a family. I have to continue to pray for strength to make it through this process of opening myself up to and dealing with unresolved issues. 

I will make it through. I will be ok. 

Marathon training, week 11

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Last night I dreamed that I was driving a truck that I had no control over. The keys weren’t in the ignition. I was going about 40 mph in neutral. Someone was behind me and wouldn’t pass me. I felt pressure to have control. To make matters worse, a dump truck was coming towards me engulfed in flames ready to explode. I couldn’t escape.  I awoke in terror. 

The marathon is 2 weeks away. Am I ready? Can I do it? I finished the week with a 12 mile run this morning. My heart told me to do an 18 mile run. I worry that the long runs I missed due to an ankle injury will be the thorn in my side. But the taper period is probably not the best time to add them back in my running schedule which I followed exactly except for my damn ankle.  My head said do a 12 mile run. My head won as usual, which made me wonder how the voice of rational reason can still get me into predicaments. It was a humid run today, not sunny or hot. Just humid. Every breath made me feel like I was drowning. I started my run singing old school rap songs. What do I care what the neighbors think of me. They already think I’m crazy for running! My hair wouldn’t stay back in a pony tail and little sweaty tendrils smacked me in the ears and eyes in the beat of my running feet. I briefly fantasized about shaving my head. Sweat trickled down my back, tickling my skin. Sweat ran into my eyes making them burn. I used my shirt to mop my face. I loved it! 

I wonder how I will handle a week of taking it easy. I have always been an antsy person. I pace the floors. Anxious. Just when I am about the relax, I realize I forgot to scrub the floors. Running has helped with this quality I seem to possess or that possesses me. Will I be able to sit around and relax??

I wondered what I would wear for my first marathon while running this week. I came up with a great idea to custom design my own shirt. I opted to get a purple shirt with the words outrunning my demons in the front. I will have flames running down the back of the shirt. If you see me give me 2 thumbs up and wink. This will also mean that my identity has been compromised and I may have to move to a warmer state. Talking about that, I hope the weather is great too. I have never run a long distance in pouring rain. Can I do it? And if the race is cancelled, can I still put the 26.2 sticker on the back of my car? 

What happened after….

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Almost two years after the birth of Angelique, I had another baby. A little boy that I will call Alex. Alex was an easy baby. He was always content, rarely cried, and followed a very consistent feeding and sleeping schedule. Both babies slept through the night at around 2 months even though I nursed them. I figured I had this parenting thing down pat. Life was going fairly smoothly for awhile. After those first couple of years of peace, life got a little dicey. 

After Matt attacked Angelique on her 4th birthday, life got a little crazy. My mom couldn’t accept that I needed a break from my violent autistic brother for awhile. She pleaded, pressured, and begged to have Matt in our life again. She would drive over a couple of times a month just to have Matt wave at my kids through the car window. She would help out if Matt was included. I couldn’t risk my 2 and 4 year old being hurt by a grown man. I couldn’t. Matt almost exclusively attacked little girls. It wasn’t long after this that I found out I was pregnant and having a baby girl. I didn’t want to tell anyone the sex of the baby, so my mom figured out it was a girl or I would have said something. 

Right around this time, I started babysitting for the neighbor girl about 50 hours a week. She started calling me mom and hanging out with us when I wasn’t babysitting. Every weekend she would stay at her grandma’s while her parents partied. I secretly resented them for having a break. I can’t say that I didn’t feel relief after they eventually divorced and moved away. Also, during this time my husband had started a business on the side. He was working for another company and went down to part-time so he could do this. He eventually used up all of his vacation days and they gave him an ultimatum. Either come back full-time or leave. He left. The stress started piling on again. 

When it came time to schedule my final c-section I opted to do it on a Friday. I had images of watching my other 2 kids while I was in the hospital if it was on a Monday like they suggested. My mom came early Friday morning to watch the kids, thankfully Matt did not get up that early. Arabella was born. Paul went to work. He was a one man show and we had bills to pay. Mom dropped the kids off mid morning as Matt had a dentist appointment. Paul had the kids with him off and on at the hospital all weekend. He had someone from church watch the kids Monday morning to pick us up from the hospital. Then my mother-in-law helped Monday and Tuesday. After that I was on my own, less than a week after major surgery with a 4 year old, 2 year old, and a newborn. A newborn that cried incessantly. That didn’t sleep through the night for a year. 

I felt hurt and angry at my mom for leaving me alone when I needed her the most. Matt always came first. I gave up my childhood for this? In my mom’s defense, she was working full-time and it was her busy time at work. Matt still lived at home and she no longer had my help. Six weeks after Arabella was born, my grandma had open heart surgery and for some reason I was handed the baton of throwing all of the holiday parties. I ended up getting mastitis twice and blamed myself for having a difficult baby because I was very stressed. 

Real life Tetris 

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What is easier, training for a marathon or blogging about painful events in my life? In analysis, they both take approximately the same amount of time per week. I would say, without a doubt, that training for a marathon is much easier. I only feel tired and perhaps physically sore after running. I feel tired, sometimes upset, depressed, and emotionally sore after blogging. 

Is there anybody out there? Am I all alone? Where have the other siblings of the disabled gone? Have you escaped? Have I not? How can I? Why can’t I? I don’t want to do this anymore. It is too personal. The feelings are too raw. I am picking away at old poorly healed scabs. This worries me. 

I feel very overwhelmed in general. I was just notified of mandatory practices for my kids at school the next couple of weeks that conflict with other mandatory practices. When do I have time to work? What about work? We are picking up our biggest client ever the end of this week. It is great, but overwhelming. Will I be able to perform? Will I be able to handle the work? I feel like I am playing Tetris right now. Pieces falling haphazardly on other pieces and nothing fits. I am fighting to stay in control. I worry about the things I can’t control. Am I all alone?

Up north, part 3

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This past weekend I was up north with my daughters. Luke’s wife, Emily, and I threw a bridal shower for Mark’s fiancé, Carla. This is the start of another strange happening this month. Emily recently had surgery and was having some health issues related to this. She ended up driving herself to the closest ER an hour away from the cabin after a sleepless night. I was running later than I wanted to the morning of the shower and had a lot of errands to run. Through a series of strange events, I ran into my sister-in-law at the pharmacy in the middle of nowhere hours from her house. My daughter rode back with her to the cabin to help keep her alert. It seemed like a bizarre coincidence and I still don’t know why things happened that way. 

It was lunch time when we all got to the cabin. Luke bought some bread to make sandwiches with the peanut butter that was there. First, he had to call our mom to make sure that this was not Matt’s peanut butter. I had almost forgotten about this very basic rule. Most of Matt’s food was labeled with his name. You did not dare eat Matt’s food without facing the wrath of my mom. Since he spent most of his life gluten and dairy free, his food a lot of times was separate from ours. If Luke put the knife in the peanut butter and touched the bread, then it would be considered contaminated. My dad would eat Matt’s food a lot of times probably just to piss off my mom. She would worry endlessly about food for Matt to the point of obsession. 

Another thing that happened, the last time we were up north my brothers put in an A/C unit. It was really hot this weekend so we were running it with a lot of fans. We had 13 people sleeping in the cabin. Matt came out to the porch angry saying that the fans were too loud, that he couldn’t sleep. My initial response was to ask Matt how long he was trying to sleep. Luke agreed. Mark was concerned that Matt would be up all night worrying. Mom went with Matt to turn off all the fans. Now no one would be able to sleep. Luke turned the fans back on after Matt fell asleep.  Luke said, “Part of this is his condition and part of this is his conditioning.” Matt never had any consequences, seems like we all had the consequences for his decisions. I felt the familiar old resentment towards my mom for allowing Matt to be the god of our lives. The god we sacrificed to day in and day out. Sacrificing the good of all for the sake of one. I hated being forced to worship and kneel before the alter of autism. 

The bridal shower went without a hitch. Haha. The future bride left saying, “See you at the wedding, if there still is one.” Mark and Carla spent most of the weekend fighting. Everyone at the shower said that Mark and Carla reminded them of my parents. That is not a compliment. My parents marriage is filled with strife. It is not something sacred, to be yearned for. I worry. My husband says I should only worry about the things I can control. 

A driving controlling fear

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Mom is a good driver. I usually feel safe when she is in control. My dad likes to drive really fast. He says that we don’t have to wear our seat belts. I feel safer when it is on especially when we go over bumps and my head almost touches the roof. Bumps always make the seat belt tighter around my waist and I have to take it off to loosen it. I think that my dad learned to drive from Aunt Grace, except she drives really slow and goes through the stop signs. 

When mom drives she has to be careful. If she puts Mark and Luke next to each other they like to laugh and do funny things while she is driving, like open the door. The day it happened she wasn’t being careful. She put Matt in the seat behind her and she was wearing a ponytail. Matt likes to pull hair, sometimes very hard. I worry that Matt might pull her hair so hard that her head will go back and we will go off the road.  I am sitting in the back with Matt. Matt starts pulling mom’s hair. Gentle tugs. 

Matt pulls mom’s hair. It is loud in the car. Tug, pull. It is hot, the windows are open. It is loud. Tug, pull. Cars are coming down off of the highway. It is hot! Mom drives through a red light. It is loud, hot, a long ponytail of hair!  Mom keeps honking her horn. Loud, loud! Cars slam on their brakes and swerve. 

My little brothers giggle and can’t wait to tell everyone that mom ran a red light. “Did I just run a red light?” asks mom. “Oh my gosh, I could have killed someone.” Mom is upset and pulls the car into an empty parking lot. Matt is upset and runs away towards traffic. Good thing mom was able to catch him before he reaches the busy street. Mom is a good driver. Mom needs control. I need control.