Appt with Dr. C done...me left in deep thinking mode. Not sad deep thinking...just deep deep in thought. We talked a lot about..well....I guess it's what you are willing to put up with in a relationship. Are you willing to be walked all over? Are you willing to be the sole initiator of conversation and outings? Are you willing to sit around and wait for someone to contact you, and will you be ok if that contact only comes once a year? And from it I am pulling, how much do you really value yourself? Are you willing to be pushed to the side and "used" when you are needed? Do you want more from that relationship? Are you willing to put your foot down until you get there?
I didn't say much during the appointment because I was lost in my thoughts. How many times am I guilty of doing this? "This" being constantly being the person who has to contact a friend first in order to get together. How many of my friends will contact me first? What about with family? Do I hold them to that same standard? Do I hold myself to that same standard when it comes to them?
So, I am taking a step back. I big step back. I need to stop and think and evaluate what I am doing here. I have shut down Facebook. And I will, essentially be shutting down Twitter, too, although I will still use this blog for thoughts and I know several of my Twitter friends are followers of the blog. I am not pulling away in a depression sense, but more that I am working my way out of it and I need to establish some new rules and parameters for myself. How much am I willing to take from people? Who is truly a friend, and who have I friended just to look like I have friends. I hope that I will find this an interesting and thought provoking journey....and that I will see you on the flip side...
Monday, September 30, 2013
A Week?!!?!
Didn't realize that it's been so long since I have written. Although last week was hell, I am hoping that this week will be better.
Last week I learned my lesson in snooping and not having full trust in people, namely Dr. C. And because of it, it caused a rift that has me in a downward spiral. I have cut, I have binged and purged, I have done almost every harmful thing possible to my body and my spirit. And now I am trying to climb out of that pit. It's a long climb up, and it doesn't make me happy.
Although, different from other times I have generally "tanked", I did NOT stop my medications this time. And I think that was a great help, that even when I was emotionally falling apart, I still had the medicinal support behind me.
This past week was also my birthday, and while it was fine, I think that I was expecting a bit more from my Family or Origin, and was very disappointed. Now, that's on me, not them. I cannot expect people who don't talk to me on a regular basis to wish me well, but it still stung that they couldn't even Facebook it. In fact, I am just about to the point that I am ready to let them go from Facebook. It's counter-productive for me to keep looking at the pages of people who I am more than likely never going to be friends with again, so why keep torturing myself? This is certainly not something I will do today, but might make for some good conversation with Dr. C.....
Last week I learned my lesson in snooping and not having full trust in people, namely Dr. C. And because of it, it caused a rift that has me in a downward spiral. I have cut, I have binged and purged, I have done almost every harmful thing possible to my body and my spirit. And now I am trying to climb out of that pit. It's a long climb up, and it doesn't make me happy.
Although, different from other times I have generally "tanked", I did NOT stop my medications this time. And I think that was a great help, that even when I was emotionally falling apart, I still had the medicinal support behind me.
This past week was also my birthday, and while it was fine, I think that I was expecting a bit more from my Family or Origin, and was very disappointed. Now, that's on me, not them. I cannot expect people who don't talk to me on a regular basis to wish me well, but it still stung that they couldn't even Facebook it. In fact, I am just about to the point that I am ready to let them go from Facebook. It's counter-productive for me to keep looking at the pages of people who I am more than likely never going to be friends with again, so why keep torturing myself? This is certainly not something I will do today, but might make for some good conversation with Dr. C.....
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Purge
Shades drawn tight
She hides her shame
Everything gone wrong
She is left in pain
Food is now an enemy
Battling day and night
Willing herself not to eat
And then holding on tight
As she empties the contents
Of her latest binge
Tears spill over
Burning her reddened cheeks
Disgrace, failure, dishonor
She thinks she has become
Horrified of what she has again done
She hides her shame
Everything gone wrong
She is left in pain
Food is now an enemy
Battling day and night
Willing herself not to eat
And then holding on tight
As she empties the contents
Of her latest binge
Tears spill over
Burning her reddened cheeks
Disgrace, failure, dishonor
She thinks she has become
Horrified of what she has again done
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Stressed and more stressed
So, as most of you know, I am applying to get my doctorate! What a stressful thing! I am so surprised, I really didn't think that it was going to be that difficult.
I went yesterday to meet with the admissions advisor in person, we had only been chatting over the phone, and the beginning of the conversation went well. They had gotten my application, my statement, my transcripts. He had even received the first of three of my forms of recommendation. I say "form of recommendation" because that's what it was. A simple form with several boxes to check. Then he tells me that each form also needs a letter. A letter? I looked at the form he had and pointed out that it states a letter is OPTIONAL. He apologizes, said he knows he forgot to tell me sooner, but each recommendation needs to have a letter as well. He states he cannot move the application along until it does. I try to play it cool, but on the inside I am DYING. It was hard enough as it was to get three people to agree to fill out the form, let alone go back now and ask for a letter.
I let it consume me. And my day. I tried not to panic, and to think of something healthy to do instead. So, I went and got my hair cut. And by cut, I mean 6 inches chopped off. And dyed. From strawberry blonde to brown with caramel highlights. It looks AWE-SOME! It made me feel soooo much better.
When I got home, I e-mailed all three of my references. I have heard back from two, one who won't be able to do it for over a month and one who will do it this weekend. The third is out of town, so I will have to wait until Monday to talk to her. So, back to the drawing board to find a 3rd reference.
Big sigh....up and down....down and up....
I went yesterday to meet with the admissions advisor in person, we had only been chatting over the phone, and the beginning of the conversation went well. They had gotten my application, my statement, my transcripts. He had even received the first of three of my forms of recommendation. I say "form of recommendation" because that's what it was. A simple form with several boxes to check. Then he tells me that each form also needs a letter. A letter? I looked at the form he had and pointed out that it states a letter is OPTIONAL. He apologizes, said he knows he forgot to tell me sooner, but each recommendation needs to have a letter as well. He states he cannot move the application along until it does. I try to play it cool, but on the inside I am DYING. It was hard enough as it was to get three people to agree to fill out the form, let alone go back now and ask for a letter.
I let it consume me. And my day. I tried not to panic, and to think of something healthy to do instead. So, I went and got my hair cut. And by cut, I mean 6 inches chopped off. And dyed. From strawberry blonde to brown with caramel highlights. It looks AWE-SOME! It made me feel soooo much better.
When I got home, I e-mailed all three of my references. I have heard back from two, one who won't be able to do it for over a month and one who will do it this weekend. The third is out of town, so I will have to wait until Monday to talk to her. So, back to the drawing board to find a 3rd reference.
Big sigh....up and down....down and up....
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
PsyD Stress Out
So, I have decided, with a little bit of pushing and nudging from Dr. C to go back to school. For my PsyD in Child and Family. I know, right?
I've talked about it before, and now seems to be a good time to go for it. I need something positive in my life to work towards, and I am such a school nerd. I am taking an Adult Psychology course right now at the community college where I work, and I love it. I know that I can be successful in a program like this, but I didn't expect the application process to be so stressful!
In the past, when I have asked people for references to get a new job, I was always greeted with an "Of course." But asking someone for a reference for a Doctoral program, I have gotten a lot of shut and locked doors. So frustrating. Right now I have my current employer and my advisor from my Master's program who are willing to write one for me, but I need one more. Last night, I got myself so worked up about it that I was physically sick. Today, I wrote Dr. C this morning and said that I was just going to put the whole process aside for the day and breathe. I am not looking to start until Sept 2014 anyway, so I have time.
I also had a pretty deep conversation with Dr. C about what happens if I start the program and have another breakdown. She is pretty convinced that that phase is behind us and that we are working towards recovery/maintenance right now. I am glad that at least she is confident of that because I feel like I could fall apart any day now. I think she's doing that whole "If I tell her she's ok, she might believe and act as if" routine. And I am pretty sure that I am falling for it.
Anyway, I will keep you all posted with the status of the application and how things are going. Anyone out there want to give me a letter of rec?
I've talked about it before, and now seems to be a good time to go for it. I need something positive in my life to work towards, and I am such a school nerd. I am taking an Adult Psychology course right now at the community college where I work, and I love it. I know that I can be successful in a program like this, but I didn't expect the application process to be so stressful!
In the past, when I have asked people for references to get a new job, I was always greeted with an "Of course." But asking someone for a reference for a Doctoral program, I have gotten a lot of shut and locked doors. So frustrating. Right now I have my current employer and my advisor from my Master's program who are willing to write one for me, but I need one more. Last night, I got myself so worked up about it that I was physically sick. Today, I wrote Dr. C this morning and said that I was just going to put the whole process aside for the day and breathe. I am not looking to start until Sept 2014 anyway, so I have time.
I also had a pretty deep conversation with Dr. C about what happens if I start the program and have another breakdown. She is pretty convinced that that phase is behind us and that we are working towards recovery/maintenance right now. I am glad that at least she is confident of that because I feel like I could fall apart any day now. I think she's doing that whole "If I tell her she's ok, she might believe and act as if" routine. And I am pretty sure that I am falling for it.
Anyway, I will keep you all posted with the status of the application and how things are going. Anyone out there want to give me a letter of rec?
Sunday, September 15, 2013
10 years from now
Where will you be 10 years from now?
It's the year 2023.
Wow, 2023....that sounds so far away!
L will be a Junior in high school, Big A is a sophomore. What school
they will be at depends on a variety of factors and circumstances that
could happen between now and then. I would like them to be at either
Loyola High School or St. Viator's High School. This will, solely, be
based on our household financials at the time. Little A will be in his
final year at St. Emily, and Jim and I will be preparing to accept the
Golden Eagle award, which is given to families who have gone above and
beyond the call of duty during the time their children attended the
school.
We will be living in a new house, well, new to us at least. It will
have 5 bedrooms, enough for each child to have their own and for me to
have an office where I can close the door and just be. It will sit on
at least an acre of land, J's dream, and will have a pool. The
basement will be newly refinished, and it will be the main "hangout" for
the kids and all their friends. The new house will also have a large
front porch with oversized wooden rocking chairs, just like you see when
you go to Cracker Barrel.
As for me, I will be teaching at a local University and very happy with
my position. I will be the type of professor who is firm, yet has an
open door policy that students use frequently. I will either have a
private practice on the side, or I will work for the school's Counseling
Center and help students through the various crises that come up during
those years of adjustment and growth. Hopefully, I will still be
seeing you on a regular basis as you have decided not to retire.
(Because, right now, imagining you retire would throw me in a crisis!)
J and I will be more in love than we are now, if that's possible. We
certainly will be more relaxed since our children are growing up
beautifully and our money situation will have calmed. We will be able
to take vacations and weekend trip without children, which will only
prove to strengthen our bond. Our trips will include going to our
neighbor's lake house in Michigan, finally getting to Outer Banks, North
Carolina, and planning our big family vacation after Little A graduates
to Europe.
I will be happy. I will be content. I will know that I have the love
of a good man to guide me through the tough times, although they will be
further and further apart. I will have children who, for the most
part, want to talk to me and tell me what's going on in their lives. I
will have friends, friends who come over for just a cup of coffee or a
glass of wine and to chat. They will not be high maintenance
friendships, but light and easy.
I will be happy.
Saturday, September 14, 2013
Just do it
Yup.....I'm gonna do it.....Just going to suck it up and do it.
I'm going to apply for the PsyD program at the Illinois School for Professional Psychology.
It's my dream, and I am going to reach for it. I have already sent requests to people for forms of recommendation, and I filled out the actual application. I still have to write my statement of intent. I am little worried about that, but I know that I am an excellent writer (smiles), so hopefully that should be easy.
The downside, $$$$. I will have enough in student loans to more than cover the tuition, but it's the every day bills that we will need to cover. The kids go to private school, and I am not sure that's something that I am willing to sacrifice. We can probably cut down on the cable bill and the cell phones, going out to eat and Starbuck's coffees will be a luxury item instead of a staple. I have always been good with the grocery bill and keeping the house stocked, but I can do it for about $75 a week.
And, it's only 5 years.
5 years. Wow, that's not a lot of time. 5 years ago I had two babies and was pregnant with my third. I had just completed my Master's Degree and had a great job at DeVry University.
Time flies.
I just need a little more self confidence that I can do this. And I am working on that with Dr. C. And I will get there.
I'm going to apply for the PsyD program at the Illinois School for Professional Psychology.
It's my dream, and I am going to reach for it. I have already sent requests to people for forms of recommendation, and I filled out the actual application. I still have to write my statement of intent. I am little worried about that, but I know that I am an excellent writer (smiles), so hopefully that should be easy.
The downside, $$$$. I will have enough in student loans to more than cover the tuition, but it's the every day bills that we will need to cover. The kids go to private school, and I am not sure that's something that I am willing to sacrifice. We can probably cut down on the cable bill and the cell phones, going out to eat and Starbuck's coffees will be a luxury item instead of a staple. I have always been good with the grocery bill and keeping the house stocked, but I can do it for about $75 a week.
And, it's only 5 years.
5 years. Wow, that's not a lot of time. 5 years ago I had two babies and was pregnant with my third. I had just completed my Master's Degree and had a great job at DeVry University.
Time flies.
I just need a little more self confidence that I can do this. And I am working on that with Dr. C. And I will get there.
Friday, September 13, 2013
Lack of Sleep
Ugg....another day (night?) that I have been awake since 3:30AM. Wide awake. Awake enough to think I can write a decent blog post. Listening to 70's music on YouTube to get me going.
Yesterday was so up and down; I feel that I am still riding a roller-coaster. This decision of whether I am going to go back to school for my PsyD is crazy. I need to stop listening to other's thoughts and go with my gut. My gut says to go for it. However, there is still that little voice in the back of my head that is telling me that this might not be the best time. We know how we can pay for school, but how will we pay to live? The program is 5 years, at about $113,000, and if I was not working we would loose about $225,000 in income over those years. That's a lot to think about. Maybe we could win a lotto? Or find a rich relative?
I have to say, though, that my MDD is SO much better when I am thinking forward. Dr. C and I touched on this yesterday in session....that I need to be more forward thinking and less backward/depression thinking. My "depression cycles" have been running every two weeks now instead of 6, and I need to do something, like thinking forward, to break this pattern. Do you know how exhausting it is to be hospital-grade suicidal every two weeks? It's not fun.
Today is busy; 2nd appointment with Dr C this week since we had to miss Monday, and then some training at work on a new computer system. Fun. This weekend, however, should be fun as we are supposed to be going apple picking at our favorite farm on Saturday! The weather here has been all over the place, from 98 on Tuesday to 65 today....and it should feel like an awesome fall weekend!
Yesterday was so up and down; I feel that I am still riding a roller-coaster. This decision of whether I am going to go back to school for my PsyD is crazy. I need to stop listening to other's thoughts and go with my gut. My gut says to go for it. However, there is still that little voice in the back of my head that is telling me that this might not be the best time. We know how we can pay for school, but how will we pay to live? The program is 5 years, at about $113,000, and if I was not working we would loose about $225,000 in income over those years. That's a lot to think about. Maybe we could win a lotto? Or find a rich relative?
I have to say, though, that my MDD is SO much better when I am thinking forward. Dr. C and I touched on this yesterday in session....that I need to be more forward thinking and less backward/depression thinking. My "depression cycles" have been running every two weeks now instead of 6, and I need to do something, like thinking forward, to break this pattern. Do you know how exhausting it is to be hospital-grade suicidal every two weeks? It's not fun.
Today is busy; 2nd appointment with Dr C this week since we had to miss Monday, and then some training at work on a new computer system. Fun. This weekend, however, should be fun as we are supposed to be going apple picking at our favorite farm on Saturday! The weather here has been all over the place, from 98 on Tuesday to 65 today....and it should feel like an awesome fall weekend!
Thursday, September 12, 2013
6AM Muffins
I have gotten into a bad habit. :)
I started, about two weeks ago, to make fresh muffins for my kids before they went to school. It was a guilt thing, the depression was bad and I knew that I wasn't paying as much attention to them as I should. It was also a way to try and start the day off on a good foot. It worked (kind-of) for a limited time, but now the issue is they want them every day! I agreed to 2-3 days a week, but have slacked this week since L has strep throat and we haven't been getting much sleep.
I woke up this morning after having a dream about getting my PsyD. Ahh... it was a good dream. I have been wanting to get back into a Graduate Program since I started one in 2009 but didn't finish. But the cost, OMG, as I calculated it all out, almost $120,000! We are struggling to pay the mortgage and my previous student loans right now, let alone add on more debt. So, I did the next logical thing which is to search for Scholarships. If I was from Non-European dissent and I was willing to work in underprivileged areas, I would be set. Sigh...back to the drawing board.
I also had this BRILLIANT idea that I emailed Dr. C about....I have been struggling in our sessions to talk and express my needs, but I can write her an e-mail about it in no time. I am thinking that pre-session I am going to write it out, as if I am sending her an e-mail, and then print and take it. That way if I get caught up, I will have it in front of me as a go to. Like a shopping list for a grocery store. I am sure I am far from the first person to think of that, but whatever works, right?
I started, about two weeks ago, to make fresh muffins for my kids before they went to school. It was a guilt thing, the depression was bad and I knew that I wasn't paying as much attention to them as I should. It was also a way to try and start the day off on a good foot. It worked (kind-of) for a limited time, but now the issue is they want them every day! I agreed to 2-3 days a week, but have slacked this week since L has strep throat and we haven't been getting much sleep.
I woke up this morning after having a dream about getting my PsyD. Ahh... it was a good dream. I have been wanting to get back into a Graduate Program since I started one in 2009 but didn't finish. But the cost, OMG, as I calculated it all out, almost $120,000! We are struggling to pay the mortgage and my previous student loans right now, let alone add on more debt. So, I did the next logical thing which is to search for Scholarships. If I was from Non-European dissent and I was willing to work in underprivileged areas, I would be set. Sigh...back to the drawing board.
I also had this BRILLIANT idea that I emailed Dr. C about....I have been struggling in our sessions to talk and express my needs, but I can write her an e-mail about it in no time. I am thinking that pre-session I am going to write it out, as if I am sending her an e-mail, and then print and take it. That way if I get caught up, I will have it in front of me as a go to. Like a shopping list for a grocery store. I am sure I am far from the first person to think of that, but whatever works, right?
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
The Blanket
She pulls the blanket up to her chin, curling up her arms with fisted
hands. Rolling onto her left side, she cuddles in tighter, bringing in
her knees as close as she can to her stomach. The blanket, she
believes, acts as a shield. It's protecting her from all that is
outside. Because she knows that he is out there, and he lays in wait
for her to drop her guard and dare to get out of bed.
Tears fall over the bridge of her nose and drop onto the pillow below her. She had promised herself that she would not give into him, that she would and could be stronger than that. She had given in so many times before, with disastrous results on each occurrence. But her defenses have surely been weakened by all these attacks, and her heart wasn't in it for another fight.
Chills ran up her backbone and up to the little hairs on the back of her neck as she felt the Lion enter her bedroom. He paced up and down the end of the California King bed...making it take only two strides and having all the confidence in the world. His loud, hot breathes made her stomach turn; she knew she was in trouble. She scrunched her eyes tighter and prayed to a God she wasn't sure was even there that He would make the Lion go away.
A deep rumble of dark laughter came from him.
"You cannot pray me away," he scoffed. "I am not going anywhere until you are dead."
Her eyes blazed open. Terror filled her already tightened chest. The Lion stopped his pacing, and placed his two front paws on the end of the bed. She curled in even closer to herself, not wanting any part of her body to feel him.
Slowly, she felt the blanket being pulled off of her. She tried to hold on tight to the top of the blanket and pull back, but the fight was useless. He removed her protector, and then easily leaped onto the bed. She rolled on to her stomach, arms underneath her, head twisted to the side, as if this would protect her more. He slowly slid up beside her. She could feel his mane sweep up the side of her left arm; her shoulder jumped. He was breathing in her ear, and the tears that were slowly falling before began to pick up the pace until there was almost a waterfall coming out of her eyes.
"Just do it," he said, motioning to her side table. She glanced up. It was full of pills, prescription and over-the-counter, whatever she could get her hands on. She had put them there to just look at them, to just think about what would or what could happen.
"I don't think I want to," she stuttered.
"Yes, you do," he laughed at her. "Why else would you go through all this trouble?"
She thought about her daughter, sick in the other room, but sleeping. She looked at the clock and wondered when her husband would be home. She was supposed to be going to work, and he was coming home to watch the sick babe. Was there enough time? Was the Lion right? Should she just do it?
The lion easily straddled her on the bed, and with one front paw, forced her to turn over. She sat up quickly, terrified of what he might do next.
"Take that one first," he motioned to a prescription that she just had filled. It was an older prescription for sleeping pills. 30 pills. Shaking, she took the bottle and easily opened the childproof cap. She poured nine to ten pills in her hand, shocked that they were so little. Such little pills could do so much damage, she thought. The Lion handed her a cup, smiling.
"Do it. You know you want to," he laughed at her. She looked at him, locked eyes, popped the handful of pills in her mouth, and took the cup from his hands. She hesitated only for a second before swallowing the overdose. "More," he instructed her. "Take the rest." In two more handfuls, she had emptied the contents of the bottle into her empty stomach. Fear filled her, and she wondered if she should run into the master bathroom and make herself vomit the pills up. Her thought pattern was broken as the lion handed her another bottle. She repeated the process, again and again until there were 5 empty bottles on her nightstand.
"Rest, now," he instructed her. He dismounted the bed, and tossed the discarded blanket back at her. She held the top and tossed the rest towards the bottom of the bed, watching it fall down like a landing kite. She laid back down on her bed, and assumed the same curled up position that she had previously. Her tears had long stopped, but the pillow remained wet and stained from the previous session. The Lion circled three times, and laid on the ground next to her bed. He was going to guard her, make sure that she remained on the bed and let the poison do its job.
She closed her eyes. The decision that she had been attempting to make was final done. It was all done. Her body relaxed, she let her mind think of sweet memories. She took a deep breath, and just let death happen.
Tears fall over the bridge of her nose and drop onto the pillow below her. She had promised herself that she would not give into him, that she would and could be stronger than that. She had given in so many times before, with disastrous results on each occurrence. But her defenses have surely been weakened by all these attacks, and her heart wasn't in it for another fight.
Chills ran up her backbone and up to the little hairs on the back of her neck as she felt the Lion enter her bedroom. He paced up and down the end of the California King bed...making it take only two strides and having all the confidence in the world. His loud, hot breathes made her stomach turn; she knew she was in trouble. She scrunched her eyes tighter and prayed to a God she wasn't sure was even there that He would make the Lion go away.
A deep rumble of dark laughter came from him.
"You cannot pray me away," he scoffed. "I am not going anywhere until you are dead."
Her eyes blazed open. Terror filled her already tightened chest. The Lion stopped his pacing, and placed his two front paws on the end of the bed. She curled in even closer to herself, not wanting any part of her body to feel him.
Slowly, she felt the blanket being pulled off of her. She tried to hold on tight to the top of the blanket and pull back, but the fight was useless. He removed her protector, and then easily leaped onto the bed. She rolled on to her stomach, arms underneath her, head twisted to the side, as if this would protect her more. He slowly slid up beside her. She could feel his mane sweep up the side of her left arm; her shoulder jumped. He was breathing in her ear, and the tears that were slowly falling before began to pick up the pace until there was almost a waterfall coming out of her eyes.
"Just do it," he said, motioning to her side table. She glanced up. It was full of pills, prescription and over-the-counter, whatever she could get her hands on. She had put them there to just look at them, to just think about what would or what could happen.
"I don't think I want to," she stuttered.
"Yes, you do," he laughed at her. "Why else would you go through all this trouble?"
She thought about her daughter, sick in the other room, but sleeping. She looked at the clock and wondered when her husband would be home. She was supposed to be going to work, and he was coming home to watch the sick babe. Was there enough time? Was the Lion right? Should she just do it?
The lion easily straddled her on the bed, and with one front paw, forced her to turn over. She sat up quickly, terrified of what he might do next.
"Take that one first," he motioned to a prescription that she just had filled. It was an older prescription for sleeping pills. 30 pills. Shaking, she took the bottle and easily opened the childproof cap. She poured nine to ten pills in her hand, shocked that they were so little. Such little pills could do so much damage, she thought. The Lion handed her a cup, smiling.
"Do it. You know you want to," he laughed at her. She looked at him, locked eyes, popped the handful of pills in her mouth, and took the cup from his hands. She hesitated only for a second before swallowing the overdose. "More," he instructed her. "Take the rest." In two more handfuls, she had emptied the contents of the bottle into her empty stomach. Fear filled her, and she wondered if she should run into the master bathroom and make herself vomit the pills up. Her thought pattern was broken as the lion handed her another bottle. She repeated the process, again and again until there were 5 empty bottles on her nightstand.
"Rest, now," he instructed her. He dismounted the bed, and tossed the discarded blanket back at her. She held the top and tossed the rest towards the bottom of the bed, watching it fall down like a landing kite. She laid back down on her bed, and assumed the same curled up position that she had previously. Her tears had long stopped, but the pillow remained wet and stained from the previous session. The Lion circled three times, and laid on the ground next to her bed. He was going to guard her, make sure that she remained on the bed and let the poison do its job.
She closed her eyes. The decision that she had been attempting to make was final done. It was all done. Her body relaxed, she let her mind think of sweet memories. She took a deep breath, and just let death happen.
Monday, September 9, 2013
Unspoken Silence
I wanted to make homemade mashed potatoes for dinner. They are his favorite,
and I was making a traditional Sunday dinner anyway: 7 pound chicken, mashed
potatoes, asparagus, and biscuits. My daughters and I had baked a cake early in
the afternoon, a special treat usually reserved for parties and birthdays, but
tonight it seemed needed. We were pretending, after all. We do that a lot lately.
Peeling potatoes is thought provoking. Standing over the sink, slow upward strokes, bits of brown skin falling into a beige plastic Jewel bag. It makes me feel compelled to write, to put down all my thoughts in hopes they will one day be appreciated. I desperately want to get it all out, the chatter that goes through my head. If I can get it down on paper, if I can make it real, it cannot haunt me.
I keep peeling, keep stroking. We have been pretending all day, pretending that everything is fine, that we are functioning normally. To the naked eye we are; we are probably even doing well to most. Fresh breakfast of bacon and eggs, shopping for an early birthday present, take-out lunch, baking in the kitchen on a Sunday afternoon, the table fully set for a full dinner. We have made love, twice, looking to fill the void. The kids have scurried around the house, building a fort in the living room, playing school and house, arguing and bickering, figuring out how to resolve it themselves.
But there is an unspoken silence. Listen, do you hear it? It's there. The words do not need to be said, but they are screaming from the bottom of my lungs. Unhappiness. Depression. Failure. Anger. Suicide.
The peeler slips, and knicks my knuckle. I drop it and instinctively suck the wound. It doesn't hurt more than a smart, yet tears come to my eyes. I shake them away, shaking away with it the emotions of the day. I must pretend. I must press on. I must keep silent.
Peeling potatoes is thought provoking. Standing over the sink, slow upward strokes, bits of brown skin falling into a beige plastic Jewel bag. It makes me feel compelled to write, to put down all my thoughts in hopes they will one day be appreciated. I desperately want to get it all out, the chatter that goes through my head. If I can get it down on paper, if I can make it real, it cannot haunt me.
I keep peeling, keep stroking. We have been pretending all day, pretending that everything is fine, that we are functioning normally. To the naked eye we are; we are probably even doing well to most. Fresh breakfast of bacon and eggs, shopping for an early birthday present, take-out lunch, baking in the kitchen on a Sunday afternoon, the table fully set for a full dinner. We have made love, twice, looking to fill the void. The kids have scurried around the house, building a fort in the living room, playing school and house, arguing and bickering, figuring out how to resolve it themselves.
But there is an unspoken silence. Listen, do you hear it? It's there. The words do not need to be said, but they are screaming from the bottom of my lungs. Unhappiness. Depression. Failure. Anger. Suicide.
The peeler slips, and knicks my knuckle. I drop it and instinctively suck the wound. It doesn't hurt more than a smart, yet tears come to my eyes. I shake them away, shaking away with it the emotions of the day. I must pretend. I must press on. I must keep silent.
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