I don’t always know when I’m depressed because I’m not as smart as I think I am. OR. I am really good at hiding my mental state from myself, which could be chalked up as much the same thing as being not intelligent enough to follow the cues. I do have clues that indicate I’m feeling down or depressed but unless I’m actually paying attention, I don’t always notice when they start happening. I realized today after someone mentioned I sounded bitter that I realized I had been sleeping more, getting more headaches, and craving munchies more than usual. Whoop. What is…? OH! Heeeeeey there, depression! It’s been so long! Come in and try not to make yourself comfortable; I’m hoping you won’t be around long.
So, after reading the comment in question and perusing the entry it was left on, I put my phone down and stared at the TV for a while. I was doing a partial mull on what was said. On the one hand, I was paying utmost attention to the pathways in my head to try to figure out what started all of this (although I kind of knew the answer to this already) while simultaneously trying to watch the last few episodes of Psych on streaming. It was at that moment that a certain BFMA called to demand to know what the fuck was going on. “I feel like something is really wrong. What’s wrong?” I laughed at her and deflected, but she’s kind of used to my deflections so she tried to work around it. However, when I have a wall up, there’s no going around or over or underneath because I have defenses in spades. Not to mention, there was absolutely no way I was going to tell her what the hell was going on in my head. I didn’t want to discuss it yet and I wasn’t going to unleash my issues on her. She has enough problems. That’s when I realized why all of this was affecting me particularly hard.
Last week, BFMA had a bunch of seizures. After the post I just linked to, she actually had about two more. She had one while in the ER at the local, larger hospital, waiting for someone to see her about the pain in her neck after her last seizure. They admitted her to the neurology unit. After that seizure in the middle of the ER, she told me she couldn’t feel or move her legs. As time went by, she could feel some things in her legs, but they still weren’t working right. After about three or four days in the unit (and another seizure at some point during that stay), she was released. She was told that it was “all in” her “head.” I likened it to all the fun times we’ve had where doctors don’t listen to her about how her body handles medication or anything because she’s listed as bi-polar on her charts, so, you know. There’s some serious distrust and dislike going on by doctors who “know everything.” But, she was given medical orders for physical therapy to try to get the use of her legs back and the PT guy told her that it technically was in her head: it’s a syndrome where the brain shuts down pathways to certain body parts while it tries to fix itself, or what have you, after a seizure. And that’s the case here, I guess. So, she’s got a lot of stuff going on…
…is it any wonder I wasn’t going to tell her what the hell was going on? Why am I going to unload all of that on her shoulders? She has all of the emotional bullshit to contend with that happened prior to Seizure Week. She can’t walk and there’s no timing for when her legs will come back. Her thirtieth birthday is on Monday and that’s the first day of her physical therapy sessions. She has to start talking to her mother who is likely to blame all of this on her and how crazy she is. (Her mom’s a gem!) She has the squatters in the living room still and has to be embarrassed and mortified daily by asking them for help to the bathroom, down the stairs, into the kitchen, onto her bed, etc. So, no. I wasn’t going to unload on her shoulders – there is enough there already.
So, with all of this background, everything started on Tuesday (the day before they let BFMA out of the hospital).
I started having a panic attack that would have made BFMA proud. It was because there wasn’t enough time to finish it all! I don’t know what “it all” was but I was panicking about it. This was stupid. I don’t have panic attacks. After talking with someone about it for a few minutes, I realized that I was channeling someone or something. And I managed to control whatever was going on. This left me in a fairly morose state: I didn’t understand what was going on or why I was so upset. So, I decided to unleash this sudden welling of emotion in the form of a blog post about my dad that I’ve been trying to write since, uh, February or so. I finally managed to get it all out and by the end of it, I was crying my fool head off. I signed offline and stared blankly at the TV while TS and I cuddled. (He’s good at trying to make me feel better.) After that, I went to visit BFMA in the hospital and was horrified to learn that they were releasing her and not figuring anything out or trying to fix her, really. So, I was pretty pissed off when I went over to a family dinner over at the MIL’s house.
Family dinner really solidified to me some emotions I had been having in regards to HLB and HLB’s GF, which is utter resentment. I texted BFMA with the words, “I really hate them.” And at that moment, it was so true. The two of them seem to have some sort of magical wards in place that gives them so much. Recently, they were kicked out of MIL’s house after 18 months of sucking down resources. I was thrilled that they were getting kicked out – now they’d learn about the real world! Wrong. The two of them got a house. Albeit, the house isn’t theirs and they have to pay rent to HLB’s GF’s mother and the house was a pretty big shit hole before they worked for a month on it, they still managed to be given a fucking house. And that’s when I realized that apparently working really hard for your goals at any given moment is bullshit because if you sit around and do nothing long enough, someone is going to make your life easier for you. Obviously, I don’t really believe this because otherwise, I wouldn’t feel such gross animosity towards the two of them, but it sure feels that way. I know that TH is, also, under this impression as well. It’s like, why are they lucky enough to be handed everything in life? I know their lives together aren’t easy. They practically hate one another about 85% of the time and they have a child with special needs, but it still comes down to the fact that when shit was getting ready to hit the fan, luck found them a home.
And it’s not fair.
What’s so fair about life, though?
It hearkens back to a conversation I had with my mother about MEH on Sunday. I told her about how I hated him so much and how things worked out so easily for him all the time. It wasn’t fair. (There’s that word again…) She said that she did, indeed, agree that he seemed to have a silver spoon in his mouth. While monetarily, he was always struggling but his charisma knows no bounds. Without actually finishing his paramedic courses and clinicals, he’s able to get a NR-Paramedic in the state of MA. Without actually saving the money, he gets a house. Without actually paying off his last car, which had negative equity in it, he manages to get a spanking new truck. It’s like Lady Luck follows him around and turns everything he desires into reality – like HLB and HLB’s GF. The two of them suck together, have a child with special needs, have fucked up this child hardcore, can’t stand each other more than half the time, fight like nobody’s business and yet… They get a house. WHAT THE FLYING FUCKETY FUCK FUCK IS GOING ON HERE? WHY?!?!?
Do you have to be a registered asshole or something to get what you want? I can do that, but you know, it’s not me. An it’s not TH. So, we work hard and we save money. We look into getting a new apartment, only to find that there aren’t any in our price range or area to rent. We look into getting a new car, but realize that the money we’re saving could go to putting down on a house at some point, so we think of fixing the car instead. (Don’t get me started on my fucking car, either.) We work hard for the money that we make, or have at least, but we don’t get any further in our life plans or our goals. It’s like we’re constantly running in place and it’s not fucking fair. (Again, that word…)
All of these emotions have solidified into something angry and bitter and snarky. I’m pretty good about ignoring it, but I still have those depression cues that I can look to. And there they are. I want to sleep. I want to read. I want to eat munchies. I want to wallow. I want to just hate on everything and everyone. And everything all came out with yesterday’s post as a bitter stew. And that’s where I am now. I’m dealing with my bitter stew and I’m trying to work through it, but it’s like… why bother? What will change?
I know that you’re supposed to work towards a goal, but my goal was pretty easy. I was going to have BFMA quit her job and go back to work. That was my first goal… except that now, we can’t really do that can we? How is she supposed to watch TS if she can’t even walk? I feel like I try to take baby steps and get shit on. So, I try to take huge leaps and I get shit on. And I go back to baby steps, just in case, and I get shit on.
WHAT IS THE POINT.