My Mother. Myself. Bipolar? Maybe.

Sometimes I wonder if I am becoming what I’ve always hated most about my mother.

Lately I don’t feel strong, I feel weak and helpless, and needy. Sometimes I feel so needy and insecure and obsessive about whatever it is that I’m focused on that I can’t stop running the problems over and over in my head. It’s a churn. Process. Process. Process. Endless circles of trying to solve the unsolvable problem. He said this. I should have done that. What if I had done something else? How could this be happening to me? Should I do X? What if I don’t do anything? Will I be ok? What should I do?!?!?!?!? And these thoughts consume me, and I talk to ND, and to my father, and to my mother, and to my friends. The same conversations, over and over. Never solved. Don’t know what to do. And sometimes I think that this desperate NEED is what my mother must have felt. When she called me 10 times a day. When she insisted that I help her with the comptuer. When she insisted that I go with her on a trip because she was afraid of having an anxiety attack. And I looked down on her for being so weak. I didn’t know. I’m glad for me that I didn’t know, but I feel sad for her.

I don’t really feel “ok” anymore. I don’t think I’m functioning well. I’m taking a cocktail of medications, and each feels lifesaving, and yet, I still don’t feel like myself. Where am I in there? I’m on Zoloft for depression – it has really helped me. Daytrana and Ritilin for ADD – it has REALLY helped me. Xanax for anxiety occasionally – it has helped me sleep sometimes, and to stop the churn other times, and every once and a while it will put the breaks on a full blown anxiety attack.

I always thought of myself as chilled out, but I think I’m a worrier now. When did that happen? When did I start worrying that every action I took could be a huge mistake that could alter the course of my life? When did I start thinking about my own death? When did I lose trust in my own abilities to handle my own life? When did I start to feel so helplessly out of control?

Victim is not a word I ever used to associate with myself, yet I feel like things happen to me in a way I never used to feel… I got laid off from one job, only to find another one that I liked but was miserable in the whole time. Why didn’t I see that I was happy there? Why was I so miserable, why did I think the company was so fucked up?? It really wasn’t. It really was a great company. And then the next job I think I didn’t know how to handle it. I was overwhelmed and didn’t see what I couldn’t do. And people didn’t like working with me, because I was miserable. And now I’m in a job where they think I’m on a power trip. And I’m misunderstood. Yet at the same time, I don’t think I really know how to collaborate. I know how to dictate, and I realize that I am difficult to work with. I feel so awkward sometimes. Like I don’t know how to work with my team. And I feel lonely.

I used to think my mother was weak and incompetant. I used to think she was so smart, yet wasted her life not taking care of herself. And I used to pride myself on my success. But I don’t feel very successful. And I worry that I’m becoming just like her. And that maybe, I am already just like her. And I am doomed to her faults because I can’t get control over myself. I know I need to let go, and that clamping down is making it worse, but if I let go, will I just drift away?

Am I dead? Or just acting like it?

Since I quit my job it has been quite a roller coaster. Exhilarating and a huge relief on one hand, but really blah, kind of depressing, and uncertain on the other… First of all, it has been much harder to find a new job than I thought it would be. Well, maybe not “harder” per se, but it has sure taken a lot longer. My last day was February 23rd, so that means I haven’t been working for 6 weeks. Wow. Now that I’m looking at the calendar, that’s longer than I thought. Somehow I was thinking it was only 3-4 weeks. Well, I guess 4-5 isn’t that off from 6… Anyway. The point is that this is taking a lot longer than I thought it would. I thought I’d get something instantly. And it’s not for lack of trying. I put in several hours every day on the job hunt, and have lots of great leads. But I’m not in a huge rush to just take something, anything, either. I want the right fit, so I’m just chugging along.

But I feel like I’m not really here, if you know what I mean. Oh sure, I’ve done some stuff… I took a freelance job for a while, took a cooking class, talked to two people about volunteering, gone out some, cleaned a few closets… But mostly I’ve just been playing a whole lot of Civilization. And staying up way too late, and eating too much. And sitting around obsessively checking email. And sleeping. And quietly letting hours pass as I watch TV.

I have the distinct feeling that I’m waiting for something. It’s like I’m waiting for someone to say “Ok, go!” or for someone to tell me that I’m awesome again. And it makes me wonder, when did I stop being awesome? And if I’m still awesome, why don’t I actually want to do anything? The whole world is open to me and I’m drawing a big fat blank. Awesome.

But it’s also not like I’m not interested in anything, or don’t have anything I can or want to do… I have so many little projects… Check that the insurance hasn’t run out on my ring. Buy train tickets for our trip to England. Write to my friend Rick about having lunch. Shorten my white fake fur coat. Make an interior fabric structure for our dome at Burning Man. Re-solder the el-wire connection that broke on my red jacket. Join Weight Watchers again. Take walks in the park, get my bike out of storage. Go shopping for new clothes. For new makeup. Finish playing Zelda on the Wii. Read God of Small Things which I started 2 weeks ago and haven’t made it through the first chapter. Replace the bulb in my head lamp. Find a new OB/GYN. Call Tony Robbins maybe, or check out Landmark Forum… Do something. Call someone. Take action. Stop waiting.

Ok, go!

:/

Little Girls, Crazy Mothers + Getting Blamed at Work

There’s a play in town that I used to love when I was a little girl which had great meaning to me. I must have seen it with every relative and with my parents several times over… It was a favorite dream of mine to be in that play, and was something my mother used to find very charming.

Over Thanksgiving, I mentioned to my mother that I’d love to go, and wouldn’t it be fun if we went together — to my HUGE surprise though, she already had plans to go — with my step-sister and her daughter. So while I do think my mother has somewhat replaced me with Ali in her mind and heart, I don’t have a huge issue with that, and think it’s probably the best for all of us. However, in this instance, it did hurt me that not only didn’t my mother think to ask me, but that she didn’t even seem to remember how much we shared when I was little. It makes me sad that that’s gone.

So when she told me she was going with Ali, I told her that it hurt my feelings. I said it matter of factly, without any goal of getting a reaction from her. So of course she backpeddles, does a whole song and dance about how she didn’t know, didn’t think I’d want to, could go another night, blah blah blah… And so what does she do? Three days later, after Thanksgiving? She goes out and buys me a ticket for the same night, of course it’s not sitting with them, and of course it’s one ticket all alone somewhere, and says “we’ll work it out”… So now I’m obligated to go in an effort to acknowledge that she tried, but it’s going to be incredibly awkward, lonely, and painful. And then I have to have dinner with them afterwards. I considered backing out, but that would lead to a HUGE fight that I’m not invested enough to have right now.

So there you have it. Fun fun.

And finally, I need to find another job. Fast. While the big drama seemed to have gone my way at first (and they took my advice for how to change things by promoting someone and taking a whole chunk of work away from my crazy partner) it seems that all is not as rosy as I had hoped. I was blindsided by a “review” (actually it was a warning) and really got my hand slapped for a whole series of things that are a direct result to not having enough staff to do the work. And a little of my ADD mixed in.

Feeling very scared right now.

the job is so hard

Tonight I feel depressed. Like someone let the wind out of me. The new job is so so hard, I’m stressed, have been having anxiety attacks, working insane hours, unable to shut off. There was an article in New York Magazine this week about burnout — ND and I laughed because it was practically written about me. I’ve been driving him crazy talking about work. But tonight, it was announced that the recommendation I made to fix the problems in the office was accepted. But not without some mud slinging at me. And I’m sure I’ll be able to defend myself. But I’m tired. And burned out. And I feel like crying.

And it’s been nearly 3 weeks and I haven’t been able to get to the drug store to pick up my meds which are sitting there waiting for me. I’ve taken meds, but the leftover Focalin, not the newer patch thing which worked so well.

I’m ready to focus back on my marriage, on having a kid, on my friends, and on my life again. Work can’t be my life exclusively.

Changing Plans on My Mother

Ugh… So now I don’t know what to do.

I called my stepfather for his birthday (a day early and then a day late, ever the fuckup) and while we were talking, he mentioned that my stepsister was going to be out at the beach house for a week while they were out of town. I expressed some surprise or interest or something, and he asked if I’d like to come out to the beach. Knowing my stepfather, this was out of obligation rather than a desire to see me, but I felt I had to express interest in seeing him, or I’d seem cold and uncaring. This fucking game!

Anyway, so rather than letting me be spontaneus about what date we were going out for the weekend, my mother insisted that we choose a date far in advance. The weekend of July 16th. Now there’s a big Burning Man thing that’s come up and I’m stuck having to decide if I don’t show up for something important that I’m really really excited about, or if I cancel on my mother, which will most likely do some damage. We got a really really super cool shade structure to fit on our 30 foot dome, but it’s going to require some work to cut, sew and grommet it. Because we need to send it out to the playa in advance, this is one of the only weekends we can get the whole camp together to work on it.

But I’ve got these stupid plans I didn’t want to make in the first place. And this is the SAME FUCKING CHOICE I’ve had to make my entire life. She’s so inflexible that it’s like I have to decide “is this so important that it’s worth losing my mother over.” I mean, no I guess, nothing’s that important, but fuck, why is that the choice? Why isn’t there an option to do what’s good for me and not lose my mother over it? Why does she take things so personally that any change in plans is a sign of rejection?

I guess I have to keep my weekend plans with her. But I’m not happy about it.

Still here, still working on the comeback

I'm not good with using month-long goals to make myself do things I'm not quite ready to do. I think I have to actually be ready to do them in order to be successful, surprise surprise.

So here I am, Staging My Comeback II. This time I'm just trying. I'm not setting major MUST DO THIS goals, I'm just trying. However, I'm on Weight Watchers agin. I promised that I'd be on program this week. I was, and am. I'm 27 points over for the week, but it's the best 27 points over I've ever experienced. Wine tasting with my dad, a little extra butter at LB+D's wedding lunch, Thai Satee when I was unprepared at ranger training…

It's all good. I weigh in in the morning, I think I'll lose weight. I feel good. Myself again. Next week I think I'll try core again.  

Comeback, or go forth?

I've written a post in my head every day this week. I've been thinking about writing, I've composed ideas, come to revelations. Yet I'm hung up on my broken vows and my for-one-month-I-will's…

But rather than berate myself for what I haven't done, I will say this. I do want to stage my comeback. I do want to be present. I do want to lose weight, to be happier, to feel more alive.

The road to reaching my goals is definitely not to focus on what I haven't done, but to pull myself up by my bootstraps and start now. There is a difference between being accountable and being debilitating. 

Who am I? I'm sensitive, oversensitive, distrusting and wary.  

I can use this to my advantage, or I can set myself up for failure.  Smaller goals are key. Forget the month-long all or nothing vows. For one month I will try to keep my goals in focus.

2nd try

Wrote a post yesterday and it didn't go through. But I don't remember what I wrote… Got back on track as far as getting to work on time, still writing, but I don't feel that momentum as far as staging my comeback.

I don't trust me to keep my word to myself. I want to be trustworthy, and I mean well, but I can usually anticipate when I'm not going to do what I say.

Who am I? I don't think I quite know.

Being present. Where am I? 

The road to hell

The road to hell is that it’s 8:42 and I haven’t even showered yet. Another day of broken promises.

Mother

Painful, circular, EXHAUSTING fight with my mother tonight at dinner. We reenacted much the same old script – her demands, my inability to deliver, our conflicting definitions of love… Even though she walked out when I said I would be there if she were sick but that I wouldn’t take care of her anxieties around being sick, she called me and wanted to talk again and not undo all the hard work we’ve done lately. I’m relieved that there’s no 3 months without her talking to me this time…

The conversation did make me rethink my stance that it’s ok that I’m all over the place. Honestly though, I don’t know that I can be more consistant. I don’t think it’s possible for me to be consistant 100% of the time, about all things. I’m just not linear, and I never have been.

But the question I have, which makes me sad to write, is what does that statement mean for me? Can I still consider myself a good daughter/friend if I disappear for a month and reemerge not realizing how much time has passed? Does the other person have any responsibility to let me know their needs, or is this my problem to fix? You know what they say about the road to hell…