moodmonster

: moodmonster; September 7th, 2011

I’m both proud of an nervous for my daughter (7th grade). There’s a friend of , we’ll call her Sarah; as my daughter said “I don’t really know her but a lot of her friends are my friends." So Sarah told one of her friends that she was going to kill herself. Her friends tried to talk her. But the friend made no progress and so told the school counselor. Sarah then spent most of the day (Friday before Labor Day weekend) in the office with the counselor. (I know the counselor; I like her and trust her – not like the counselors I had in middle school!) I was so proud of all of them. I kept telling my daughter over and over: They did the right thing. They did the right thing. Even if Sarah seems mad at them later, they did the right thing.

So naturally texts are flying between Sarah’s friends. In my daughter’s words: “They’re only telling her friends.” (eye roll of someone who’s been in middle school)

So this morning (Wed after Labor Day) my daughter receives a text from her best friend (who is one of Sarah’s friends) that Sarah is in the hospital. (No details on whether hospital was because of a suicide attempt or because it was decided she needed immediate help.)
My daughter’s best friend is a talented musician and she is going to get all Sarah’s friends together and record “I’ll Stand By You” or one of those songs. A few texts later, it was she was going to ask the choir teacher to help coordinate everyone to sing. I have NO idea and NO control over how this will spread.

I tried to explain to my daughter that “just friends” telling “just friends” rarely works but I don’t think I made any sense to her. I ended up just telling her, “It would make me feel better if YOU personally did not tell or text anyone about Sarah. I cannot control what other children choose to do.”

I also tried to explain ‘stigma’ to her. I’d once read an article about a woman who struggled with this same issue (wish I could find it). She wanted to walk the line between telling her daughter that shame shouldn’t be part of mental illness, yet be honest with her daughter that life is unfair and the revealing of such personal information does have consequences (whether it SHOULD or not).

I know she’d mentioned to her friends that “My mom had depression” which I was ok with. Depression is talked about much more openly than bipolar (or “mood disorder non specified – whatever my latest label is). But I told her to watch how much she says to her friends because the information can become HER stigma. She laughed me off – as she is in the “the more different I am the less I will care what the popular kids say to me”.

I also assured my daughter AGAIN (and to reassure any friends) that they did the right thing telling the counselor. I’m struggling to accept that I have no control in the situation and let these girls make mistakes (or not), make choices and live with them. This maybe EXACTLY what Sarah needs or it may embarrass her to death or she may return to school still angry that “they told on her”. No one knows.

Certainly telling my daughter and her friends to “stop” and don’t draw attention to this embarrassing subject is NOT helping defeat the stigma of mental illness, though that was my first thought. I ended up saying, “if it comes up with friends or someone says the word crazy or that Sarah is just weak, you may emphasize that depression is an illness, a biological illness. If a friend passed out diabetic blood sugar imbalance and went to the hospital, it would be no different.”

YES, we as adults living with all this KNOW that is currently a naïve and hopeful expectation… but I suppose we have to start re-framing mental illness with the young. It has to start somewhere.

I’m also trying to accept and be “ok with” how much my daughter might tell her friends about me in the effort of comforting (or just contributing to a “drama” conversation – they are 12/13 yr old girls!). Most of me is ok with it – as long as it doesn’t impact her at school – I’m ok with it. But the idea of these girls’ parents know about me is a little unsettling. I mean it helps that I’m new to the area and virtually no one knows me. One, I don’t have to feel hurt if a “friend” were to stop being my friend because of it. Two, I won’t have anyone rushing up to me to check and see if I’m depressed (you know, well meaning and all).

But still, will I walk into a school function one day and introduce myself as ‘daughter’s mom” and I’ll get “the look”.? It’s hard enough being new and not being part of these groups of mom’s who’ve been together since Kindergarten; this wouldn’t help. BUT THEN AGAIN, I never liked being in those groups again anyway. Perhaps it will all work out for the best. I can be shunned by PTA moms and find acceptance with people who are open minded and not ignorant.

Man, I’m so naïve. I just wasn’t prepared for this issue to hit yet. But who am I kidding, I had my first depressive episode at 10 and felt suicidal (ideation though no plans) in 8th grade. *deep sigh*

Anyway, I’m sure you can see (and related) to how hard it is to be a parent and watch all this play out. I’m trying to focus on two things:

My daughter’s friends did the right thing and may very well have saved a young life.
My daughter is comfortable enough to talk about this with me and her dad. I won’t be in the dark and I can help send (if she’ll listen) a little bit of accurate information into the situation.

I would like to hear advice on one issue:
Should I contact the counselor and tell her what I know about what these girls are planning? Do these girls need a sit-down, information, discussion session with the counselor – answer their questions, give advice – from a non-parent entity?

New Year’s Not-olutions

: moodmonster; December 31st, 2010

My New Year's Not-olutions

I will not force myself to abandon helpful and educational internet social worlds …except when they create toxic drama.

I will not act angry, depressed, frustrated, sad, excited …except when I feel those emotions and choose to act on them.

I will not “should on myself”…except for should walk and should go to sleep.

I will not make absolutes: never, forever, always …except when there is an exception.*

I will not expect things to be easy, to be difficult, to be better, to be worse … I can think of no exceptions.

*You see how having no exceptions to no absolutes would be an oxymoron.

My Christmas Letter to Twitter Friends

: moodmonster; December 24th, 2010

I don’t quite remember when I started on twitter or when it changed from an interesting little social habit to an indispensible daily support, empathy, and instant therapy.

This change could not have happened without you. Yes, you.

Each time you said, “Hey there. How are things?”. Each time you responded with “hugs” or “hang in there”. Each time you insisted you were indeed my friend no matter my paranoia. Each time you affirmed that my struggles were as valid as yours. Each time you made me laugh. Each time you posted a picture, a saying, a link that inspired. Each time you shared your pain, deep pain, and reminded me of our common humanity. Each time you put yourself “out there” and wrote honestly about your life.

Each time you added a block, a step, a stone on the path of my journey.

I could not have traveled from point past to point future without you.

I’m more healed, more validated and less alone because of you.

Thank you. Yes, you.

Happy Holiday of your choosing.

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Live in the Moment?

: moodmonster; December 5th, 2010

I'm starting to understand the intent behind the phrase "Live in the Moment". I've always resented and truly disliked the saying. These sayings always made me feel "left out" and cynical compared to the majority of the populous who enjoyed crying: Seize the day!

Recently, I've been learning different things about the whole notion of acting on my feelings and listening to my body. I will try to piece together the timeline and attempt to keep the process as clear as I can.

For years, a decade or more, I ignored my initial reactions to my feelings, put on "the face" and push forward to perform as expected. I LOOKED like I was living in the moments and seizing the day. I appeared to fit into those taking full advantaged of their life. I looked, more specifically, to be the type of person my mother wanted and would love. But all the while my most interior self was the complete opposite, silenced, and full of self-loathing. I looked like a duck, I walked like a duck, I sounded like a duck...but inside I was a dove. [My mom often said I was like a duck - everything rolled off my back. This was a compliment. I was strong and resiliant. Anything could happen and I would not let it affect me. This was a good thing. I was not being overly sensitive. These were admirable traits (traits my mother seemed dissapointed that my older siblings did not share). "Too bad" I was a dove inside. Deeply sensitive, easily injured and longing for a protective cove to rest my head.]

So everytime I heard the phrase "live in the moment" I would cringe, feeling more pressure of expectation, more pressure of think this, feel this, or you are wrong, you are strange, you are defective.

These early depressions were when I couldn't even admit the depression and used what little energy I could find, what little courage I did have to "putting on the face" and doing what I thought I had to do to be loved. This left no energy or courage to figure out who I was, what I wanted, and what an authentic reponse could possibly be. And the one moment when I did express my belief that I was depressed, I did express my need for these painful, negative feelings to be validated...I was shut down, again. I sat in a doctors office at 17 with my mother. I told the doctor flat out - handing him the brochure - "I read this. I believe I am depressed." I thought if I said it infront of a doctor, he would validate my feelings and infront of my mother and she'd have to believe me. It did not work that way. He dismissed me as a tired type-A young lady with straight As, pressure about college, who simply needed to learn to relax and enjoy the moment.

Then college, growing up, and all that increased my independence, gave me a chance at 'listening to myself' and 'live in the moment'. But when I finally gave myself some permission to feel and act as I "chose," I felt freer but also overwhelmed by pain. My solution was to wear my depression on my sleeve, on my forehead, like a beacon flashing around my entire being.

And I thought I was doing this. I was listening to the cues in my body and often shut-down, retreat or become excessively sensitive (to sound, touch, etc.). And I think this was the right thing to do, for awhile. I was giving myself permission to retreat, to act on my feelings as I 'wanted to'.

If I didn't feel like smiling, I wouldn't. If I didn't feel like getting out of bed, I wouldn't. If I didn't feel like eating, I wouldn't. If I didn't feel like seeing my family, I wouldn't. If I didn't feel like doing laundry or going to work or taking a shower or having sex, I wouldn't. (This is probably the point that most spouses should have left my 'lazy, wallowing' self. He didn't. I've stopped trying to figure out why.)

It seemed I was "making up" for the first couple of depressions; THIS time I would make sure to express it - everyone would be able to tell - I wouldn't "fake" anything or fib about how I felt. Wallowing in the depression made me feel validated. Regardless of the overall intelligence of this choice, it was what I needed. I would take validation at any cost, even to the point of entering a psyche ward for treatment... mostly because I wanted family, in particular, to see that I was NOT a duck: my father's death followed by his mother's death were NOT going to roll off like beads of water. In addition being admitted meant that the 'specialists' agreed that I was depressed - a real life doctor obviously knew something was wrong or else I'd never have been admitted. (This was a case where the stigma, in the short run, seemed to work for me. It was proof that my behavior was abnormal or unhealthy.)

And yet STILL in this phase "live in the moment" was still painful. If you 'live in the moment' and every moment is full of crushing depression - living in the moment would mean death. Depression, without the hope or fantasy (as I saw it) that tomorrow would be different or five-years from now I'd be 'fixed', had no solution other than death. If I 'listened to my body' while this deep in wallowing depression, I would give up. I would give into the pain and simply give up. I needed to ignore the pain, needed to live for "the day I figure all this out", needed to focus on seeing my children grow. I now think of this as my "just keep swimming" survival phase.

And so I thought I was 'listening to my body'. I would listen to the cues in my body and often shut-down, retreat or become excessively sensitive (to sound, touch, etc.). And I think this was the right thing to do, for awhile. I was giving myself permission to retreat, to act on my feelings as I 'wanted to'.

The problem with my depression behavior being the proof and validation of my experiences and feelings is that the depression itself became my new 'fake' face. You know that feeling that if you ever get 'better' people will stop believing that you were ever ill? Well, I took it quite literally. If I was able to get laundry done and clean the kitchen in one day, I might appear to be functional and no one would believe that I was EVER depressed.

And so, ironically, I think I was acting depressed even when - in the depths of the night and honesty of my soul - I was not. I used to worry I was being manipulating, a lying bitch actually. I now know and believe and understand that it wasn't conscience. It just was my reality at the time. I didn't know how to behave differently...yet.

Enter recent breakthroughs with the new therapist and I'm guessing me being 'ready' (and I have NO idea how you know you are ready). I can now see what well-intentioned people probably meant with all their positivity and "live in the moment" rhetoric.

The new therapist is now providing the validation of my feelings (or teaching me to validate them; I'm not sure which yet). I'm trying to accept that I do not need to walk and act and appear depressed in order to be validated (meaning validated in my own head). If I feel good and am productive or walk with a spring in my step, it is ok. It's not the 'fake' face (of my early depressions) yet I does not dismiss the real pain of my past (or even future).

There's still a bit of fear that my positive coping, productivity, and ultimately any display of happiness will somehow give my mother proof that she raised me 'right' (and was not emotionally abusive). This last part is still a work in progress. When I am around her I still shut down and retreat. My goal now is to not shut down and retreat with anyone else in my life; she will be my last hill to climb. In the meantime I refuse to allow any other relationship to be poisoned by her abusive parenting.

This NOT shutting down or retreating with other relationships is where "listening to my body" and "live in the moment" is making sense (and finally appreciated). When I'm feeling oversensitivities to my surroundings and want to pull away, I can now accept the feelings - "I feel scared and vulnerable." and understand the resulting behavior: "I want to shut down because it is the only way to be safe." But now I know that these feeling-behaviors are not based on the present, they are a previous program from the past. I'm finally ready to re-program.

The only thinkg I know about re-programing is a sort of equation. Now please forgive my mathematics minor degree and geek-thinking. But it makes sense to me both on the left and right sides of my brain. (The challenge is to feel it in my heart...someday.)

f(x)
= B

Where f is the function you have been taught from birth until now.

x
B
Variable x must be validated. If x is not validated no function in the world will produce the solution you want.
Conversely, the function must be sound and appropriate - one of your choosing, that fits your beliefs, needs and personality. Otherwise, no amount of validated feelings (x) will provide the output you want.
The role of medication, therapy, and self-care in this equation is for another entry, another time, and after a bit more practice.

= behavior is the desired actions, re-actions, goals, planning of your life. = the feeling at the moment.

Boundaries?

: moodmonster; November 21st, 2010

I keep thinking I understand boundaries. Here, let me explain:

We have hosted Thanksgiving at least 3 times. We wanted to host this year in the new house and with an incredible kitchen designed for such an event. Many family expected us to host this year.

When my husband realized he had to travel for work the first two weeks in November and we already saw the signs of seasonal depression in me, we both decided that our boundary was: we are not hosting Thanksgiving. Too much to get house ready. Too hard to keep clean with only 1 adult around. Too expensive to buy the food on a ‘we just moved’ budget. Just too much.

A few family were surprised or a little annoyed. We didn’t go into it and said, “We just moved. We’re not ready.” No big explanations, no excuses, no “trying to make it work” and meet other’s expectations. At this time we also decided to go to his parents for Thanksgiving (lots of reasons, but mostly they were the only known invite at the time).

We were affirmed in our decision, when we realized my medication needed to be changed. This period is always tricky and challenging for me, the kids and my husband as we wait out side effects and mood swings until thing level down. We agreed staying-the-course, still going to his parents, was still the best decision.

About a week ago, my brother and sister-in-law sent out an invitation to their home for Thanksgiving (the Friday after, actually). I considered it for several days. I actually WANTED to go (which is rare, I hate going to my hometown of my youth). I wanted to see my nieces, my 2 grandnieces (ages 5 and 3). I wanted to hang out with my brother and SIL. I like them. Despite their dysfunctions and personal crap, I still just enjoy spending 12 hours with them for a holiday event.

But then all four of us had a 3-4 day illness back to back plus the incredible Pandora’s box of emotion busted open after a visit from my mother (too long to explain here). I then needed to decided on my own boundary again. While it was technically possible for us to go to his parents for Thursday and my brother’s for Friday (only about 2 ½ hours apart), no one needed to tax their bodies or tax my emotional well-being (my mother will be at my brother’s). In the past I’d have run through pro and con arguments I’d have with family justifying my choice. Not this time. Decision made. Declined invitation, expressed sorrow at missing it. Hosts understood and wish us well. No harm. No foul.

It took the epiphany (see my last journal post) of monumental importance to even come to the conclusion NOT to go to my brother’s because I needed distance from my mother at this particular point. I’m too raw from the emotional scab being ripped off. It is what it is. I chose myself over my desire for my kids to play with their cousins and my desire to enjoy time with my brother and SIL. I could not even please myself on both fronts; I had to disappoint part of me to protect the other part. This was healthy, progress.

NOW…

Husband got a call from his mother. We knew his uncle was coming in from Georgia (we’re in Texas) for the week of Thanksgiving. This uncle is also his Godfather. He also lost his wife 6 months ago, my husband’s Godmother. He’s never met our children. So it was wonderful that he’d be there at Thanksgiving this year. Well, evidently, assumed that my husband’s parents would be driving from their home to ours (3 hrs) because, obviously, he’d like to see our new house.

Um… WTH… As my husband says: He’s trying to make up for the fact that my aunt never came to our house to see the kids. Coming to visit ‘for her’ or because its better late than never.

To be crystal clear, I like his uncle. He’s even my Facebook friend (that’s saying something). He was kind to me at my wedding and is a rather laid-back jovial personality that just makes it easy to be around him – at least from what I remember. So I have no ‘issues’ or boundary problems with the dear man.

BUT… wait a minute, the entire reason we chose NOT to host thanksgiving was because we KNEW we wouldn’t be ready for company. We just couldn’t pull it off. Too many boxes. Too much anxiety and perceived obligation on my part. Sure people say “don’t worry I don’t care what the house looks like” – well that’s all well in good but I am not comfortable with it. And I’m so emotionally raw, I really don’t want to break down into a rage fit or tears and run off to another room in front of his uncle. It’s part of me I’d rather not share with such elder relatives with pre-conceived notions of mental illness (if you get what I’m saying).

Add on the layer of – if his uncle comes, his parents come. And I do have boundary issues with them (mother-in-law) sometimes. Its not too bad but its there. And if MIL hits just the right button or issue or tiptoes close to a line, I’m likely to severely overreact .

So.. what the hell? I’m so confused. I CANNOT fathom saying to his great uncle, who can only afford to travel say once every 7 years, who is coming from Georgia to Texas for a week and WANTS to come see us and is WILLING to travel TO US (not expecting us to go to him)… No. No you cannot come see our new home, spend time with our children, and spend the night in our house. No. I simply cannot see how I would sleep at night.

But 3 adults visiting my home is a stress for me. A stress that in and of itself is not a deal breaker. BUT layered on top of the incredible weight of the last 3 weeks, last 3 months… damn, it scares me. (Here I am JUSTIFYING my need for space, protection, time.)

Not sure anyone would want to read 2 pages of this but if you did, thanks. If you have any input or perspective or piece of the boundary puzzle I’m missing = please share.

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Not depression, angry: An unpredictable freedom.

: moodmonster; November 19th, 2010

[Someday I may post the incidents that lead to this breakthrough. Or I may not. I hope you can appreciate this piece without those details.]

I AM NOT DEPRESSED. I AM ANGRY.

When I feel anger, I shut down based on past experience that expressing anger is useless. Expressing anger will only bring more pain in the form of attacking, blaming, and ultimately reinforce the message that I AM NOT VALID.

I cannot

will never

convince

proove

alter

my mother's beliefs, however distorted, that:

she is the victim.
I am not in control of my own life, my life choices or my emotions.
my husband is a manipulating man who is the cause of my emotional 'excess' (bipolar label).
my father's death is the real reason I am lashing out at her.
she will tell anyone who will listen these truths as she sees them.
some of these people will believe her and validate her feelings. (ironic)
she will ever admit, own, and work to change her passive-aggressive toxic behavior.
she will ever let go of the dead people.
she will ever let go of the stuff, ever admit the hoarding.
my discomfort in her house is due to my inability to get over my father's death.
my discomfort in her house is due to my husband's claim of allergies.
she can 'fix' my children in order to relieve "the stress my husband puts me under".
if only she could spend time ALONE with my children can she truly bond with them.
she can use my children as a means to feel closer to me.

EVEN IF I WERE SUCCESSFUL in altering ONE of these beliefs, it would only serve to invite her remaining toxic choices and behaviors into my life, closer to my home (literally), and provide a foot-hold for further manipulation.

NOW, instead of NOT discussing issues or behaviors or past wrongs out of fear, I choose to NOT confront or invest my emotional hope out of respect for my own health, the health of my marriage and the future of my children. I choose specific boundaries (not lies, not guilt-ridden tricks to avoid her), I choose clear and communicated boundaries -- in defense of the little girl who will always believe her feelings are invalid and that she is not enough.

I now place that LITTLE GIRL in my 'tree' - the tree where my injured, violated 6 year old and my hopeless and depressed 16 year old have sat holding each other. The 6 year old no longer afraid; the 16 year old no longer alone.

NOW the 10 year old joins them, feeling worthy of joining, feeling she belongs, she deserves to be in that tree, held in a cocoon of safety, love and validation. The 10 year old is no longer responsible for the emotional choices of others, no longer plagued by guilt. The 6 yr old and 16 yr old give her audience, they listen. How 10 year old will come to support and comfort the other two, I do not know yet. And that's ok. Are there others yet to join them, I do not know yet. And that's ok.

footnote: The tree analogy was initially created, by me, during an early lesson in relaxation and reflection, circa 1999, and it only contained my 6 yr old self. In 2004, I was able to release the resentment and pain and allow 16 yr old to join her. It has taken 6 more years to even realize there was another 'me' still not safe, still not valid, still causing me daily current emotional pain. None of this imagery was planned and managed with any purpose or directly, it has simply grown into my life-line of freedom and change. I couldn't MAKE it happen, no matter how I intellectualized it, no matter the number of therapy visits. I had to wait, not even knowing I was waiting, until it was time.

Normal adolescence?

: moodmonster; October 20th, 2010

My daughter will turn 12 in a month. She started 6th grade this year. She is a typical girl with typical concerns, struggles, and issues. She's not super-popular, but not disliked, doesn't get picked on, but get noticed slightly more than she'd like. She gets good grades, loves to read, and get nervous about the expected social behavior as a tween.

I feel completely inadequate to be her mother at this point in her life. It is because I was not typical; I was atypical. By 6th grade I had experienced at least one episode of depression, mild and undiagnosed. During 6th-8th grade I experienced another depressive cycle and possibly my first hypomanic. With everything being undiagnosed and limited memories to pull from (or trust), it is diffcult to determine what was "typical" middle school angst and what was extreme and atypical.

Thus my perceived self-consciousness with raising my daughter between 12 and 18. From my current point-of-view, partially diagnosed from 23 and accurately diagnosed at 32, my experiences from 12 to 18 are not to be a source of wisdom for a 'typical' tween/teenager. Many experts explain that early diagnosis and treatment (whether medication or not) is necessary to ensure normal development. I always thought of development as walking, talking, and growth charts, but at these tween ages it is development of self-esteem, confidence, social interactions with opposite genders, and cultivating helpful, supportive friendships. There are, certainly, many mistakes that must be made in these difficult years to come out the other side with these traits developed.

And so I worry. My perceptions of how people feel about you, what other kids think, how you should dress, what ages you should wear make-up, date etc, and which activities are important and beneficial are all shadowed by the depression. As well as now some confusion about the times inbetween depression where exuberance and the appearance of actual perfection presented itself. Straight As, lots of extra-curricular resume building, lots of grand projects started and some even completed. This was just seen by adults as me "getting better" and being the great, postitive, leader they wanted me to be. I knew and feared the truth. I believe they call it imposter syndrome.

I digress. I feel inadequate to comment on my daughter's social confusion: Do I call my friend back or would that be pestering, clingy? Does this girl actually want to be my friend or is she just too "nice" (or fake) to tell me to get lost? Do kids still have 'playdates' or hang out at each other's houses in middle school or do I need to join a club or team or something?

I was often either too depressed and claimed I "didn't care" what anyone thought and just shuffled through life. Or, I was flying high on the idea that I was entirely too "goodie-2-shoes" to relate to any of my peers: I didn't rebel from my parents, I wasn't interested in boys in a reality sense, I was "above" the nonsense of fighting for popularity, I actually believed good grades in middle school made a difference in life long-term, my parents were not divorced, fighting or seperated, I had no boyfriend or frienships troubles and therefore could not relate to the drama-machine that is middle school. Occassionally, possibly only colored by hindsight, I believe I simply walked around so "high" on my own thoughts, my own perceptions of what I could do, what fabulously important person I was... that I literally didn't see all the people and friends around me. I'm certain i was labelled a snob. Then a depression cycle hits and the loneliness is overwhelming and I'm pretty sure it was assumed that I was doing it for attention - that snobby girl. Ok, so that's what I FEARED they thought. In talking to friends today, most say, "oh you were shy, smart, and occassionally oddly moody - but you always seemed to snap out of it and be nice again."

In comparing my husband's development and span from 12 to 18 (as well as that of my nieces, SIL, and adult friends I've made along the way), I have realized more and more how MUCH I really did miss being undiagnosed depressive, how MUCH I didn't understand about "normal" fears, concerns, and issues of an adolescent, how MUCH I stagnated in my growth as a person, a friend, a potential girlfriend. Reading parenting books on the subject makes me feel increasingly abnormal. I can related to bits and pieces but on the whole, the recommendations they make for assisting your child in the transition of life would have done two things: further depressed me (being overly sensitive to EVERYTHING good, bad and constructive) or I would have blocked it all out because inside I KNEW something about me was entirely different than anyone else had experienced - ergo none of that "normal" advice applied to me.

Now, on this eve of her adolescence, I feel I am facing a wall, a door. Once we cross this threshold, we have crossed the line between where I can relate (to a relatively average childhood) to where I cannot relate and should not draw upon my dysfunctional and stagnated experience of this age to support my daughter. So far I mostly defer to my husband asking "is this normal?" or "I'm assuming -this- response (meaning MY natural response) would be unhealthy and abnormal?". However, a male and a Daddy can only truly relate to so much. I find myself today ---- the day after she sent a nervous email to a friend who seems to be blowing her off, the day after she again mentioned worrying about getting her 1st period, the day after she was moody and weepy during homework, the day after she attempted to 'manipulate' the "mommy always caves when I get sad and moody" trick ---- scanning Amazon for adolescent development, mental health, social interaction, self-help books.

How does a mentally ill mother hope to raise a mentally well child?

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Misdirected

: moodmonster; September 24th, 2010

For the last 2 years i have become acutely aware of how I physically react to pending visits with my mother. Ive probably rreacted this way in various degrees for 20 years. It took my kind husband to finally have the guts to point it out.

Mom will be here in about 3 hours. Since around 10 am this morning ive been growing a longer and longer list of "symptoms":

1. Fatigue
2. Very grumpy grows to quick to anger
3. Spontaneous sleeping (My way, i guess of just shutting down or running away.)
4. Snapping at kids, dogs, the trash bag that wont open, the milk that ran out.
5. Sweating, fever-like chills but temp is always normal.
6. Switch between no appetite and only eating sweets, junk.

This is just before she comes! I've been known to collapse into sleep within 20 minutes of her/my arrival. (Thus abandoning husband to deal with her alone.)

So now that I'm aware, i cant seem to move onto next steps, whatever those are? I want her pending arrival to have NO affect on me. But I havent a clue HOW to make that change.

Tags: via ljapp

What my mom said, according to SIL

: moodmonster; September 23rd, 2010

Preface
My sister-in-law married my brother when I was 9 years old. My brother is 12 years older than me. They lived about a mile away in the same town where I grew up from the time I was 10 until I left for college. They still live there today... within a mile of my mother... My SIL and I have commiserated on our 'issues' with my mother for about the last 10 years.

I know that HER side of the story of what is going on 'at home' (the hometown) is just that HER side and that my mother deserves her side... as well as my brother and anyone else involved. I take her venting with grains of salt because I know she has few other 'safe' places to vent to. We both have, typically, been very good at not sharing OUR conversations with my mother or any family member (other than our spouses). I've gone in phases of just about ignoring her because she was in a "too hateful" place with my mom and then equal phases of needing her to listen and help me cope with just how difficult mom can be. We've both spent much time finding the right boundaries and walls based on our differing relationships and location-proximity to my mother.

The phone call
My SIL does NOT just call up and go "guess what mom said about you". She really doesn't. We both strive to keep our mouths shut about what mom may say about the other to us -- mom likes to do that... talk about the other kids, spouses, and grandkid to each other - most of us have learned that mom's a butt-head and nothing she says deserves repeating... it only hurts each of us and my mother is never taken to task for it. (And hell would freeze over and sink to the bottom of the universe before MY MOTHER would sincerely admit SHE made a mistake or messed up, without passive-aggressive sarcasm!)

I was reminiscing of how my mom used to keep volunteering to come to my therapy sessions to "help". I would tell the therapist that; my therapist was open to it. I said HELL NO, I pay for this time for ME. Not for her to come to terms with anything, besides the fact I know that she only wants to come her to "fix" me. She's BIG into "fixing" people. You know the kind.

My SIL adds to the conversation, "yeah, I remember that. She was always saying, 'I'd love to just sit down with her counselor. Because I know how Jim is.' "

There.

1. My husband's name is Jim.
2. Tell me you can see how offensive that is?

'I'd love to just sit down with her counselor. Because I know how Jim is.' "

More Background
So it's no secret to ANY of the family (3 of 4 kids married for 10+ years) that my mother will NEVER blame HER children (because then she might have some role in that 'imperfectness'). It is ALWAYS the spouses fault. Any decision, we as a couple make, she repeats to other family (and who knows who else) that our spouse "made us". There are SOOO many stories of this, but I won't go into it. Let's just say all 3 spouses have come very close to making t-shirts that say: "OUTLAWS". Because despite what she may SAY about how great they are, how she treats them and talks about them to others shows that they are 2nd class citizens and NOT to be trusted over HER belief of what her children would do.

I had mostly let it go... probably because my husband has a great sense of humor. It hurts him a little but he mostly laughs it off. As long as he and I know the truth and see though her manipulation attempts to blaming him, then there's no risk to us, our marriage or anything else. So after letting it go, finding the humor in it... this unintended 'release' of information flew out of a phone call and has lodged itself in my head.

It does not help that she is coming here TOMORROW. I daydream, all the time, about telling her off in a wild throng of curses and tears. (There's no point tho, she'll blame the bipolar.)

And part of me KNEW she blamed my husband for my "emotional breakdown" .. early diagnosis of depression, later diagnosis of bipolar. I knew on some level she did. But she SAID IT to SOMEONE ELSE. She SAID IT out loud.

Now What?
I'm hurt. I'm pissed. (again, HOW many times will this happen? will I LET it happen?) I want to find the list I once wrote of everything my mother has done/said in the last 10 years that has made me distrust and downright loathe being around her. These are not deep seated old issues of childhood and teenage years ... these are NOW, these are who she is choosing to be NOW. I've only confronted her on like 3 of the things on the list. (Basically behavior since I've had kids.)

I want to confront her, yet I don't. I don't want to make my SIL life any more difficult than it is, I don' want to feel the rejection when my mother refuses to speak to me 'in the moment' and then pretends all is well on the next phone call.

FINALLY - Do I tell my husband? I tell him EVERYTHING. Things I haven't told therapists or priests in confession. He's heard alot of crazy shit from me. But I am afraid this one, this ONE, will cut too deep and he'll have trouble being that helpful, rational one when we are around her. Ironically, HE is the one who buffers me from her enough to keep my sane. Then again, I'm doubting HIS strength? I'm forgetting how much he's been through with me. He may truly not care at all and just want to help me get past it.

I guess part of me WANTS to tell him and let him get pissed at her and tell her: You are NOT welcome in my home. But then, again, isn't that really what I want to say? Do you have any idea how impossible that is to say with a mother who appears to be Aunt Bea from the outside, who has NO CLUE how I feel (she should but she's blind to it all). And who lost her only love, my dad, 5 years ago - and is a widow who lives in a 5 bedroom house alone and no one particularly enjoys visiting her.

Pathetic am I

: moodmonster; September 16th, 2010

I can hear my therapist saying: "You're too hard on yourself." Gee, ya think.

I'm hating myself this morning because:
1. I slept poorly. I did all the "right" things for sleep, but it didn't work. I've got to figure out what I'm doing wrong.
2. We let the kids stay up 30 min past bedtime to watch a TV program. Everyone woke up late, pissy, and snappy. I should have been the bad guy and told them and husband -no. I'm a wimp.
3. Drove my son to school. I should have walked him. I'm so lazy, selfish.
4. Asked husband to take daughter to school. I should have taken her. She "must" feel less loved by me when I can't even take the time to drive her to school.
5. Headed off in car, no clear direction except to find breakfast and a grocery store. I should have had a plan. The dogs havent been walked. They're going to be freaking out until I get back.
6. Found McDs. Screw eating right: 2 sausage biscuits and a Coke. Yup, an f-in Coke. Screw the later blood sugar drop, mood swing. Pathetic am I. THIS is as "crazy" as I get? Ooh, you f-in' rebel.
7. Took pills...an hour late. Dumbass.

NOW... I feel pathetic but I intellectually know that I'm being an f-in prick. My level of perfectionism, even my definition of perfection is wrong, unhealthy, freaking stupid. I KNOW this. Who the f do I think I am that I should expect myself to be "more" than human. What an egomaniac fubar! Ooh, i'm unlike ANY other human...I can live up to expectations (my own) every single, f-in day of my life. Yup, that's just how amazing I must be. What a bitch I am.

I also see how all the CBT will work for this. But damn, 1-7 emotions and feelings snowballed in seconds. I see the "jumping to conclusions", the black-and-white thinking, and all the other therapy lingo. I've known it for 10 years and used it. But yet, i'm still the same old stupid me.

Is it that I have to accept that I will ALWAYS think these things and the rest of my life will have to manually alter each and every thought? I've been trying that "rerouting" but damb it leaves me exhausted and STILL pissed at myself for "being this way in the first place". What is sooo f-edup about me that I am this way? Which is really asking: why!? And when I start asking why, I've lost the battle, slipping back down the rabbit hole.

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