May 1, 2013

• This past week has been so incredibly rough. Last night was my breaking point. I tried so hard to have an okay evening after just a hellish day at work. Reid knew I was having major, major problems with keeping it together yesterday. He tried so hard to make it a better evening for me when I got home. He had bought me pretty orange daisies, he took me out to dinner to our regular Friday night haunt because he knew how much I loved their food and how it always makes my Friday night to go out and get burgers and fries with him that I can actually eat (what a miracle!).

  And then my mom called.

  I knew when I read the caller ID that I should have just let it go to voicemail, but since anyone in my family so rarely contacts me I decided against better judgement to go ahead and answer the phone and talk to her while Reid was re-heating out carry-out dinner.

  And that’s when the wounds started to bleed again.

  She had called because my sister is in hysterics, I knew she had been for a few days and had tried talking to her and doing my best to be supportive while being hundreds of miles away. Apparently, my sister had told stuff to my grandmother. Stuff that I’ve been trying to move on from past these few months. She wanted to know if some of the… abuses that happened while she was in a semi-comatose state after having most of her left frontal lobe removed were true.
  I don’t know why I am unable to just say, “Now isn’t a good time to have this conversation. I’ve had a really, really bad week, followed by another horrendous week and now isn’t a good time to start bringing all this up.”

  But I can’t seem to be able to do that despite knowing that I should. And so we got into it. She asked me if certain things that were said to have allegedly happen were true, and I couldn’t lie. It happened. Everything she asked, down to the details, it was all true. Finally, I was able to muster up enough strength to ask for the call to end because my food was getting cold. I couldn’t eat it anyways but it was the only way I could get out of that conversation right then. She said we’ll talk about it another time and that twisted my gut into a Gordian knot.

  I’ve been out of sorts since. I want so badly to just move on. I don’t see the point in bringing any of this up with my family anymore. It’s over. It’s the past. Talking about it with them is not going to solve or fix anything. I’m at a point now where I really do what to go to therapy or something, the only problem is finding the right therapist, and not lying in therapy. That one will be the hardest part for me because there are always those first few questions they ask that there are right or wrong answers to, and I’m afraid if I answer truthfully, the truth will bring me problems in the end. I’m afraid of what it might do to my future. I’ve had more than one person suggest that I go back onto medication. I agree with them, I certainly should be on meds, I just hate them. I hate taking medication and in a way I’ll feel like a failure if I have to go back on them. It’s hard to shake 18+ years of being told that depression was all in my head and was just a sin that I needed to confess and move on from and that psychiatric help was just about the worst thing you could do (because it would be “justifying” sin. Don’t ask me how this makes sense, it never did, I was just told that was what the “truth” was).

  I found a book in Highly Sensitive People that I plan on buying and reading, possibly even getting the work book to go with it. The more research I have been doing and self-examination, I’d say that my likelihood of being an HSP is extremely likely. I fit into that category more than I do for bipolar disorder (which I still won’t rule out yet, not without professional examination and testing and all that). I would just like to do the most I can on my own so when I do find a therapist and I do go to therapy, that way I know where we can start instead of having to figure everything out from square one. I figured it might be easier to find a therapist that would suit my needs if I knew what I needed first instead of “I am generally XYZ with a pinch of 1 2 & 7.” I accept that I could be going about this all wrong but I really don’t have the money to go through the entire process of therapy. I want to get straight to “How can I deal with this better/what can I take to make me more stable”. I want to get to the treatment instead of going through the whole diagnosis part. Wishful thinking I’m sure.

  I’m just trying so hard to keep it all together, but my strength is failing, and my will is weak. I need a break. I need some rest.

  I just want a dreamless night.

  • 3:15 pm
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