I realized today, sitting in the hospital, waiting for Bri to be seen by the doctor, that I work hard to be “normal”. Not losing my temper, staying calm and reassuring, just being regular people is an exhausting endeavour.
It’s times like this that make me want to give up. Fundamentally, I am tired. I’m tired of being me, I’m tired of working so hard all the time to get myself to “normal”. I am so fucking tired.
Every morning is a new day. As I continue to struggle with various aspects of my illness and mind, I realize that I have been depressed and grieving for several months now. Last August, Bryan’s youngest brother Jay was diagnosed with cancer. 24 days later, he died. In between, his parents disowned him and then repented, his ex-girlfriend Katie almost lost her job because she was caring for him, and I helped Katie figure out how to tell their 5-year-old daughter that her daddy was dying.
Then we bought a house. Then I was sick for two months. Then it was February. Who wouldn’t be depressed and grieving?
I still struggle daily with my anger at Jay’s parents for how they treated him. Invoking forgiveness and inviting it in does not seem to lessen my anger and resentment. Letting go is needed, yet I don’t seem to be able to. However, I shall continue to open to forgiveness, seeking a way to let go of the anger and resentment. Someday…
Today is a new day, bright with possibility. I want to make the most of it, to continue on my journey of healing, to cure the pain that still fills my heart. There’s lots to discuss: art, DBT, drugs, ordination, teaching, mental health, mental illness, Zen. I shall endeavour, in the coming weeks and months, to put hands to keyboard and start expressing what is inside of me.
I offer it all for the purpose of helping others.
love and bows to you all…
Questions I am currently pondering…
- When is it being aware of my limitations / taking care of myself and when is it buying into the “story”?
- What do I want to do with my life?
- When is it ‘frustrated mom’ and when is it ‘first step on the road to being an abuser’?
I feel like I’m walking through a fog, everything grey, misty, and hazy. I’m not sure of anything anymore: my physical health, my mental health, my family, my home. This life does not feel real.
Is that because it is not? Or is it because this life feels pale and wan in comparison to my crisis-filled past? Or is it a little from column a and a little from column b?