I'm thinking about my mortality again and I'm upset. I'm concerned that I'm going to get prematurely stuck in a closet, left to rot.
Darrin is my only advocate when it comes to my mental health. He's the only one who's lived through it all. He's the only one who understands what things are like for me. He knows how things work and what happens and all the intricacies of dealing with the mental health system. He doesn't believe I'm crazy, whether I'm manic or depressed or level. He trusts me to know what is best for my body and mind. He pays attention to me and recognizes when things are changing. He sees things before I do and tips me off that something may be coming. He is truly my Rock.
Our kids. I thought being raised by a parent with a mood disorder would enable them to be more sensitive and understanding when it comes to mental illness. While I know they have a better understanding than most people, the empathy fluctuates. I think it's because they feel like I'm being difficult and then I wonder what I did wrong. If understanding isn't there and the empathy is iffy when everything is going fine, what's going to happen when things go off the rail? One of them will be my patient advocate - likely Bear. What if she's having a bad day, maybe I've been particularly grumpy? When the time comes to plan my care, will decisions be made that are perhaps not in my best interest but in others' instead?
What a horrible thing to think, but it's something seniors face all the time. All of a sudden you go from being in charge and taking care of all facets of your life, to being a burden that someone has to spend time taking care of. It must be a horrible feeling - it's already a horrible feeling and I'm not experiencing anything yet!
Let's take this one step further. Suppose my mental health starts to deteriorate. Perhaps I have dementia or some other form of memory altering ailment. Is there going to be death with dignity or am I going to be put in a corner, forgotten, to go downhill until my physical body finally stops working, putting to rest my haggard brain and life of insanity?
*****
Change of topic. I wrote this to Bonnie. I think it says a lot, asks questions but is left looking for answers.
Drey and Joanna have said since they lived here that they would take care of me when Darrin was gone to work. They've done pretty good.
We bought a backpack leaf/snow blower together. The deal was that we'd each go in but Drey would keep it at his place. He would bring it over as soon as it snowed so he could blow it away and not have to worry about shovelling. It was his suggestion. We had to wait a bit, but finally got some snow. Drey was over right away, clearing everyone's walks and driveways, excited to use his new toy. A few days ago, I asked about him coming over as we had had snow, and he said there wasn't enough. He started talking about how much he helps - somehow things went full circle about the blower and all of a sudden he says, "well we can pay you the difference and just keep it". Now where the fuck did that come from?
I was upset and talked to Darrin. Darrin got pissed off and called Drey 3 times and texted him a couple times as well. Drey's response? "Fuck! I thought someone must've died with all those calls and messages." Really Drey??????? What is up? Where is this coming from?
All of the kids have said that if I ever need to talk or if I need somewhere to go just to call or text them. Well, I've been going through hell the past while now. I think it's getting better, but it's sure taking its sweet time. I gave Drey a call one afternoon and asked what he's doing? He starts talking really fast - stumbling over his words - saying that he and Jo finally have tonight and the morning and they haven't had much time alone with them both working and they just want some space and they're going to spend time together and blah blah blah. The end result was I was not welcome there that evening. I'm then told that perhaps I should get Braunt or Tyler to come over and do some things. (Again, where is this coming from??)
I don't remember everything that was said, but right near the end of the conversation, he said that he and Joanna are questioning whether they should've bought in the Fort or if they should have moved to Edmonton.
WTF?? Speechless.
"Okay Drey. Let's just take a break."
Click.
*****
So I'm left wondering what the fuck I did wrong? I'm a good Mom and Mother-in-law. I treat my adult kids with the respect they've earned and deserve. I think Darrin and I did as good a job as we could, just like everyone else. We have made many sacrifices for them and let them have the silver spoons a little too long, but overall we wanted to spend on them. We always wanted them to have better than we had. Hell, we let Drey and Jo move in for SEVENTEEN MONTHS in order to save for their house (that maybe they shouldn't have bought here - sorry, I'm feeling snippy). Do you not help your parents? If they need something and ask, do you hesitate? If you do end up doing it, do you charge them?
I have a mood disorder, which is a mental health issue. It was part of our lives - all of us - and impacted many different areas. Part of my disorder is highs and lows in mood that can cause anything from buying things to trying to off myself. For my best health interest, it's important to have eyes and ears paying attention to me, to help me see when changes are happening. It's important that I have a support network to help with both ends of the spectrum. I've done very well in surrounding myself with the right people. I thought Drey and Joanna were part of my network but I question that now. I'm confused, upset, angry and stupefied as to why they are being like this. I really needed them that night. But they needed their time. Who said I was staying all night? As well, am I there all the time? It's sounding like I've camped out in their living room.
Mental health doesn't have an agenda or schedule. You don't get to choose when you're going to have a breakdown or when you're going to shoot through the roof. When someone with a mental health issue asks you to talk or if they can come over, you do your best to accommodate them. You DO something. Anything. They are doing the hardest fucking thing: reaching out.
I reached out and drew back air.
Darrin is my only advocate when it comes to my mental health. He's the only one who's lived through it all. He's the only one who understands what things are like for me. He knows how things work and what happens and all the intricacies of dealing with the mental health system. He doesn't believe I'm crazy, whether I'm manic or depressed or level. He trusts me to know what is best for my body and mind. He pays attention to me and recognizes when things are changing. He sees things before I do and tips me off that something may be coming. He is truly my Rock.
Our kids. I thought being raised by a parent with a mood disorder would enable them to be more sensitive and understanding when it comes to mental illness. While I know they have a better understanding than most people, the empathy fluctuates. I think it's because they feel like I'm being difficult and then I wonder what I did wrong. If understanding isn't there and the empathy is iffy when everything is going fine, what's going to happen when things go off the rail? One of them will be my patient advocate - likely Bear. What if she's having a bad day, maybe I've been particularly grumpy? When the time comes to plan my care, will decisions be made that are perhaps not in my best interest but in others' instead?
What a horrible thing to think, but it's something seniors face all the time. All of a sudden you go from being in charge and taking care of all facets of your life, to being a burden that someone has to spend time taking care of. It must be a horrible feeling - it's already a horrible feeling and I'm not experiencing anything yet!
Let's take this one step further. Suppose my mental health starts to deteriorate. Perhaps I have dementia or some other form of memory altering ailment. Is there going to be death with dignity or am I going to be put in a corner, forgotten, to go downhill until my physical body finally stops working, putting to rest my haggard brain and life of insanity?
*****
Change of topic. I wrote this to Bonnie. I think it says a lot, asks questions but is left looking for answers.
Drey and Joanna have said since they lived here that they would take care of me when Darrin was gone to work. They've done pretty good.
We bought a backpack leaf/snow blower together. The deal was that we'd each go in but Drey would keep it at his place. He would bring it over as soon as it snowed so he could blow it away and not have to worry about shovelling. It was his suggestion. We had to wait a bit, but finally got some snow. Drey was over right away, clearing everyone's walks and driveways, excited to use his new toy. A few days ago, I asked about him coming over as we had had snow, and he said there wasn't enough. He started talking about how much he helps - somehow things went full circle about the blower and all of a sudden he says, "well we can pay you the difference and just keep it". Now where the fuck did that come from?
I was upset and talked to Darrin. Darrin got pissed off and called Drey 3 times and texted him a couple times as well. Drey's response? "Fuck! I thought someone must've died with all those calls and messages." Really Drey??????? What is up? Where is this coming from?
All of the kids have said that if I ever need to talk or if I need somewhere to go just to call or text them. Well, I've been going through hell the past while now. I think it's getting better, but it's sure taking its sweet time. I gave Drey a call one afternoon and asked what he's doing? He starts talking really fast - stumbling over his words - saying that he and Jo finally have tonight and the morning and they haven't had much time alone with them both working and they just want some space and they're going to spend time together and blah blah blah. The end result was I was not welcome there that evening. I'm then told that perhaps I should get Braunt or Tyler to come over and do some things. (Again, where is this coming from??)
I don't remember everything that was said, but right near the end of the conversation, he said that he and Joanna are questioning whether they should've bought in the Fort or if they should have moved to Edmonton.
WTF?? Speechless.
"Okay Drey. Let's just take a break."
Click.
*****
So I'm left wondering what the fuck I did wrong? I'm a good Mom and Mother-in-law. I treat my adult kids with the respect they've earned and deserve. I think Darrin and I did as good a job as we could, just like everyone else. We have made many sacrifices for them and let them have the silver spoons a little too long, but overall we wanted to spend on them. We always wanted them to have better than we had. Hell, we let Drey and Jo move in for SEVENTEEN MONTHS in order to save for their house (that maybe they shouldn't have bought here - sorry, I'm feeling snippy). Do you not help your parents? If they need something and ask, do you hesitate? If you do end up doing it, do you charge them?
I have a mood disorder, which is a mental health issue. It was part of our lives - all of us - and impacted many different areas. Part of my disorder is highs and lows in mood that can cause anything from buying things to trying to off myself. For my best health interest, it's important to have eyes and ears paying attention to me, to help me see when changes are happening. It's important that I have a support network to help with both ends of the spectrum. I've done very well in surrounding myself with the right people. I thought Drey and Joanna were part of my network but I question that now. I'm confused, upset, angry and stupefied as to why they are being like this. I really needed them that night. But they needed their time. Who said I was staying all night? As well, am I there all the time? It's sounding like I've camped out in their living room.
Mental health doesn't have an agenda or schedule. You don't get to choose when you're going to have a breakdown or when you're going to shoot through the roof. When someone with a mental health issue asks you to talk or if they can come over, you do your best to accommodate them. You DO something. Anything. They are doing the hardest fucking thing: reaching out.
I reached out and drew back air.
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