As if things weren't bad enough right now

Warning. Very upsetting post.

I've been feeling really awful for a while now. And scary awful for the past week and a half. I'm not even sure how this all sort of happened. However, last week in therapy I finally disclosed to Dixie just how bad things were depression wise but without mentioning the most important part. Maybe because we ran out of time? But immediately following that appointment I met with my psychiatrist who always asks the most direct questions and has this very frank way of putting things. It's something I would ordinarily hate in someone, but for some reason, it actually puts me at ease. There is no bullshitting this woman. Ever.

So I told her. The truth. That I'm tired of the never ending saga of my life. The eating disorder. The depression. The anxiety. The being stuck in this rut. That I dream about ending my life.

She upped my meds and has me coming back in to see her again on Tuesday.

So that's pretty bad, right? Well, I called Dixie after all of this because the psychiatrist said I needed to tell her and if I didn't she would. And Dixie has been a real trooper in keeping me in this moment. Right here. Right now. It's been really scary and sad and...a lot of other things. But I actually don't feel alone in all of this. She definitely has not abandoned me. I've seen her every day this week except Monday. And we have an appointment tomorrow afternoon.

But let me back up. Because things actually got a whole lot worse.

Tuesday afternoon Jay's dad decides to pick him up (and this turns out to be a blessing from above) which left me to spend my time napping. My mother walks into my bedroom in the early evening and invites me to join her in picking my dad up from the bus station.

HEAD TILT.

WHAT? No really. It seems like forever ago that she was pulling this same shit. So I pop up out of bed and listen to her rattle on about how he is my father and he's dying. How he wants to see me (even though I haven't heard it from him, nor would it matter at this point). Basically, I'm a selfish, self-centered, unappreciative, cold hearted, unforgiving, self-righteous daughter.

Well. You know. I won't even fight that. If that's what they think. Then so be it. I'll take that and whatever else they have (this is me clearly being the hard ass, as if I'm completely unaffected, right?).

Anyway, I ask her where she's planning to take him and she actually scowls at me and says, "I know! I know! He's not coming here. I'm taking him to so and so's house." But I'm pissed at this point. Pissed beyond repair because here I am -- yet again -- defending what I know to be true. Something that is about MY self care. And sometimes, if I start to listen to her or anyone in my family for that matter, I start thinking about him. And her. About how he has cancer and is dying and is all alone. And I'm sorry. But I can't think about that because then I will say, "Fine. I give up. He can come to live here and life will be 1000 times worse for me, but that's not important."

It is selfish, I suppose. Manipulative to force her to choose me or him. I am unforgiving. It's pretty cold-hearted, too, I suppose. At least we can all agree on that much. So imagine my surprise when I am later awakened by his voice. Coming from downstairs. Except, she just stood in my doorway and said that that was NOT going to happen.

You know that feeling you get when you're going up on a rollercoaster and you know you're about to shoot down at any moment. And your chest is tight and you're so afraid and it hurts to breathe and your heart is beating so fast and there's something lodged in your throat so you can't scream. Well that's how I've felt for the past 3 days. And I think the name for it is -- it feels like I'm about to die. There is no exhilaration as with a rollercoaster ride. You can't throw your hands up in the air and just embrace the wind because you know it will all be over in 90 seconds. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

And no one should hurt like this. If there is a moment when I'm not fully engaged in something (like playing 11 rounds of Candyland with the twins or baking 400 bagels at PB) then it hurts. I can't lie down to take a nap without it hurting. If I put down a book that I've been reading to distract myself -- two seconds later, when I return to my life -- without even going there and realizing what's just happened. It hurts.

I left the house immediately. I called Dixie. And then I came over to the house of the family that I babysit for because I didn't know where else to go. All of it hurts. The fact that he's here. That she didn't say anything to him at all about not coming to my home. That she cared more about not upsetting him than me. That I had to leave my dog. That now Jay is back with his parents because I don't feel comfortable having him here with me (especially since I'm still working at night). That it took her almost 24 hours to call me. And when I left, she asked if I was mad at her. It hurts that when she called, she called to talk about a bill from the clinic for $400.

I wanted to slit my wrists. I tried to slit my wrist. For many, many reasons. But I'm holding on...even though I don't believe Dixie when she says I can ride all of this out. I wanted to tell her -- I don't want to ride it out. I shouldn't have to ride it out. No one should expect me to ride this out. No one should ever have to ride this out. This hurt -- it's already killing me. It is. That's how bad it is.

But -- for now -- it's one day at a time. I have plans tomorrow that I'm committed to seeing through. A parent-teacher conference. A playdate at the pool for Jay and the twins. I know I'll make it through Friday. And I do have a place to stay...with this family, at least temporarily. I'll need to sit down and talk with the mother about an arrangement, but I'm afraid of doing that for very obvious reasons.

The signal at this house isn't very good so I may not be able to update. And I hate to say, "don't worry, I'll be fine" after writing all of this. So I'll try to find a way to post so that people know I'm okay.