I feel so alone. Even though there has been an outpouring of support and love, (which I really appreciate), it's been mostly virtual and while wonderful, I just want to relax into someone's arms.
There's my husband and my son. They have been supportive, but they are grieving too. I couldn't let go last night. Today, some of my students have offered hugs, but I have to maintain propriety and I can't really relax for fear of crossing a line.
I am not good at asking for help. When people have offered it, I tend to shy away. Someone offered this morning and I declined because it was the "right thing to do". And they took me at my word and walked away. I just feel so alone and so I lashed out.
I can't speak for anyone else, but if you really want to help, don't ask me. I am giving blanket consent for hugs and whatever support you wish to offer. I will do my best to be thankful and appreciative. Bear with me if I don't seem so right away.
I am overwhelmed. I have a lot going on right now and I have just hit my logistical limit. I can't plan, coordinate, or organize anything. If you ask, I will say no, not because I don't want your help but because I can't figure anything out, much less what I should ask for.
I am in a negative space and it's really hard not to isolate myself from everyone. Reaching out is energy I simply don't have. If all you can offer is virtual help, thank you. I appreciate it. If all you can do is leave me be and not burden me, that's fine, too.
I'm just begging you, today, don't ask me to do anything. Please don't expect anything of me.
I hold grudges. I know that I do. I have probably written about it before, but I don't remember and I don't want to comb through my blog to find out. I'll just make a label for this one.
I have had to make a concerted effort to let go of people that I believe have wronged me. At a certain point, holding on to anger over disagreements about child rearing, money issues, and the other disagreements between me and my ex-husbands just seemed stupid. My children are both over 18. There will always be some financial and emotional crossover between The Dads and me, the fact is that putting my children in the middle when they are trying to plan college, weddings or other life events is not useful. It is easy for a divorce to become acrimonious, but experience has shown me that no matter how unfair I might feel this or that thing was, it seems to be more important to respect my children and their choices than to expect them to choose sides between me and their other parent(s). I don't wish to lie to my children. If they ask for my side of the story, I will give it to them. However, I try to to make sure that they actually want to know what I think, not tell them because I want to vent. (I have wonderful friends for that.)
I did tell my side of the story about an interaction a while ago. I do have a grudge. I am angry. I haven't really let it go. I found out today that the person with whom I have some very bad blood is likely to return to a social activity that we were both a part of. While there were many sources of conflict, one of the big problems is that I felt that this person was trying to push me out of this shared social group. Given that I have allowed them to make me uncomfortable in most of the local contra dances and a couple of other dance venues, I am not happy that their return will likely remove me from one of the few dance venues at this social event where I felt welcome and was made to feel very valued.
I am afraid that another relationship (the on-again/off-again one) will be put under further pressure because of this person's return. I want to be an adult. I recognize that people grow and change. I understand that the right thing to do is just deal and let it all go.
However, I am frustrated. I let myself get pushed out of so many social venues because of this person. I made the choice and I shouldn't blame them, but I do. I want to show them what its like to feel shunned from a place where you once felt welcome. I want them to know what it's like when people don't understand why it's work to go to a social event that used to be a refuge. I want them to know what it's like to have pressure put on your friendships, relationships and your family because someone was so self-absorbed they couldn't seen the negative impact of their actions, only see the revenge they were taking.
I want them to know what it's like to feel like you don't belong and are not welcome in your chosen family.
The sad thing is that this person probably does know how all those things feel. That's what makes it worse. I believe they were ostracized. They went through all of that, more than once. Despite knowing how devastating it can be, I feel that they still used their social status to attack or shun other people (I am not the only one) because they decided they were hurt enough to justify it.
I told one of my students today that sometimes life forces us to let go of these feelings and simply hold our own. There is no retribution. There is no fair. There is going forward and not looking back. I let a couple of the people who were also affected know that this person was to be expected. I will make sure that I have some additional support in case anything happens and offer additional support to those who might need it.
My intention is to simply do my best to avoid this person and hope that they do the same. I have better things to spend my bandwidth on than a fight that happened over two years ago.
However, this is my blog and so here, I am angry and pissed. It still hurts, it still messes with a couple of my important relationships and my refuge from reality feels like it is less safe at a time when I really needed it to feel secure. Dammit, I also want to dance and the group this person is joining is the one that liked me so much last year, they offered me a place. It was one of my favorite places to go and I found out today that it is likely closed to me. I want to stomp and throw tantrums, because I introduced this person to this social venue. They got all of their other venues, they could have left this one thing the fuck alone.
I stumbled on this today and it seemed perfect, so today's song is a cover of a Phil Collins' song by Lorde.
The #metoo thing has given me lots of pause. I have always been a tom-boy, ran with the guys and for the most part just accepted that I would never be one of them. I have always taken some level of harassment because of it. By the same token, I have been protected because I was the girl. Whether it was online forums when I was in high school, my college gaming group or Renaissance Faires, I took it for granted that if I got into trouble, one of the knights (Sniper Elite, Chevy Slayer, Zindelo, or 'Just Jim') would take care of it. I am probably fortunate that my instances of direct harassment have been relatively rare.
I felt like my post on facebook about my harassment being when I was pregnant made it less important than the many women who have been forcibly harmed or had their consent violated.
That's when it hit me. I have not been directly harassed all that often. A catcall here, a dick pic there, but I can think of only a few instances where my consent was violated. (How sad is that? I think I am lucky because I haven't been harassed as much as other people.) However, consent is a very fluid thing for me. It isn't that I haven't been harassed. It's that I wouldn't define it as such because I never objected.
That is another problem. I usually consent. I don't know how to say no to a partner. As long as they are not asking for anything to heinous, I will go along. I will be GGG. The guy who wanted to choke me after I said no, that was too much. I stopped seeing him. But for the most part, I do as I am asked and do so with enthusiasm. So look at me, I have some standards. I have some agency.
No, I don't.
I haven't the foggiest idea how to look a partner in the eye and tell them. "I would like position A, I want pattern Alpha Sigma, and I would like it now, please." I was never taught that I was allowed to make requests. In fact, when I have asked, I feel like I am usually pushed back. There was the partner who encouraged me to ask for what I wanted. When I did, their response made me feel like they were too busy to see me and they weren't really interested after all. I had the partner who didn't have much of a libido (thank you anti-depressants) and so we were only intimate on the rare occasions when they initiated. There is the partner who would get really emotional about sex and so whenever we were fighting, there was no sex. (Angry, make-up sex is amazing and damn me if I don't miss it.)
I suppose what I am saying is that I feel like that I am not supposed to have a sex drive of my own. I am not supposed to have wants, needs and desires. I am supposed to take care of them myself and not impose on anyone else.
For pity's sake, I just want to get fucked and fucked hard. Why is that so difficult for me to come by? I just feel ugly, unattractive, and worthless, which isn't helping. Desperation is not the perfume I want to wear, but I seem to be soaking in it every day.
My therapist says that I need to develop a relationship with myself. She suggested I get some pretty negligees and being a little more forward about my sexual desires with my partner(s). I like my therapist, I really do. This time I feel like she told me that I should try base jumping, just to give my life a little more excitement. I think it would be easier than admitting that I have needs that aren't getting fulfilled.
I couldn't find a song that really fit, so I decided to just turn to Journey. They had a good line at least and one of the people I mentioned above said today, "if we go our separate ways, please know you are always welcome" so the song has been in my head for most of the day.
I refer to my depression as the black dog (video link). I used that video for teaching psychology and decided that I really liked the analogy. When I do something or don't do something that makes my depression worse, I call it feeding the black dog. I say it that way because one of the hardest things for me to realize about my depression is that I control it, it does not control me.
Control isn't a great word, but it's 4am and I can't think of a better one. There are times when I feel completely helpless to my depression and the idea that I can control it seems laughable. However, that's why I like thinking of it as a black dog. When you have a dog that is hard to control you can let it run your life. You don't ask people to visit. You can't go away because you can't leave the dog alone. You isolate yourself in your home and wonder why you are so alone.
Taking control of the dog isn't easy. It can seem overwhelming. It can nearly be impossible to do it alone. Depression can seem overwhelming. It can be nearly impossible to control and live with it alone.
Therapy and medicine is like putting the dog on a leash. It helps me have some measure of control of the dog. It makes me to feel less overwhelmed. However, a leash is only an aid. It can be pulled against, chewed on or it gets twisted around my legs. The black dog is really damn clever. It can slip the leash. That is why having another person around is so important. When the black dog slips the leash, I need help and it's much easier to put the black dog back on the leash when someone else is there, assisting me.
I have to pause and think, what about the person that is helping me? I am taking from them. I am relying on them and if I am not careful, I can abuse them. There are times when I think that I am asking too much of the people around me. Even though I know that the black dog encourages those feelings, I believe they have some merit. There are times when I have to ignore my black dog and everything it wants me to believe in order to take care of someone else.
I have to remember that the black dog is not real. It won't punish me later unless I allow it to do so. Whatever is fueling my depression isn't more important than my family, my friends, or my obligations. It can feel like that black dog is sitting on my chest and making it hard for me to breathe and I still have to get up and do whatever I am supposed to do.
There are times when the black dog gets the better of me. There are times when I let it win. I feel horribly guilty. I feel bad for the social obligations I have skipped (I have missed too many weddings because of that damn dog). I feel like I have let people down. I feel like I am a bad person. I want to isolate myself and run away. I want to hide. It is really hard not to come down hard on myself and think awful things. Once the black dog gets the better of me, it's a real struggle not to feed it, to make it stronger, to make it bigger. It is when I am at my lowest and smallest that I need other people the most.
That is also the time I am the least likely to ask for help. It is the time when I am more likely to let the black dog win. I know that is what happened last December. My life spun out of control. I was lonely, I was isolated and that damn dog was sitting on my chest and making it difficult to breathe. I never want to be alone like that again.
The lesson I have learned since January is that the black dog will never go away. It is a dog for a reason. It waits for me, it follows me, sometimes it seems like my only friend. There is comfort in pushing everyone away and just focusing on my black dog. I have to remind myself that it's trap. When my black dog feels like the most appealing thing in the world, that is when I have to push myself to get out of the house, to get out of my comfort zone and leave the black dog behind.
As a side note, I find it very amusing that as I am writing this, my cat is cuddled up close to me and purring. Hey look, I can take a picture to share. ---->
My partner has a black dog of his own. There are times when I feel like his black dog is more important to him than I am. I can't always see the black dog on his chest, but I have to remember that it is there.
I also have to remember that I can't let his black dog run my life. I can still ask him for things, expect him to do things around the house and be a part of our partnership. I also have to realize that there is only so much he can do with a black dog sitting on his chest.
It's not easy.
Last night was a bad night for the black dog. It was crouching on my back and growling. Between the pain, the stress at work, some concerns about Dickens and other things, it was a bad night. I got a gut punch right before bedtime, so sleep was an issue. I woke up at 3 and it doesn't look like today will be an improvement. I am not sure how I am going to manage work on only three hours of sleep. I see a very large coffee in my near future.
Regardless, I am leaving the black dog at home, I am going to work and I will get through today. It won't be easy, but it can and will be done.
I am going to go back to the Alan Parson's Project for today's song.
I am very fortunate. While I can and do suffer from chronic pain, it is not permanent (at least not yet). My immune system does eventually fight off whatever is causing me trouble. The pressure eases and the pain begins to fade. I know people who are not so fortunate and I am always impressed and humbled by their ability to get through each day.
Yesterday I raged at the people who don't understand what being in pain is like, how it impacts my ability to function, to offer support and most importantly, function. Today, I'd like to discuss the ways I have been supported and what I am doing to take care of myself. I am going to attempt to be positive.
I think the most powerful thing I have done is learn to give myself permission not to be 100%. I made soup from a mix last night. It required boiling water. It took little effort and provided a hearty meal for everyone in the household. My son complimented me on the garlic boboli I made and instead of saying something like "It was easy, it was just some butter and garlic powder." I said, "Thank you, I'm glad you liked it."
I decided that I am going to make a egg frittata tonight. If I stop off at Trader Joe's right after school it won't be too crowded. I can get lunch for tomorrow and pick up some spinach and cheese. It gives me time to rest before I have to cook. If I am really lucky, I can show my son how to make it (and have him do some of the work) and should end up with a healthier dinner tonight without too much effort.
I put a video on for my US History students and instead of planning a complex homework assignment from their text, I told them to take "book notes" on the two sections that we haven't covered yet. I found an assignment from Stanford that will occupy them tomorrow, which means that I won't have to do heavy lifting when it comes to my teaching.
These might all seem like simple things to do, but this is hard for me. I feel that a teacher should be actively involved with her students every minute they are in the classroom. I know that it is impossible, but in a room full of people it is difficult for me not to be "on". However if I am "on" all day, every day in my classroom, I have no energy for anything or anyone else. When I tell someone that I am still at work and already "out of spoons" or whatever metaphor I am using, I need to really make sure they understand that I am tapped out. I also have to tell myself it is okay to tell someone, "I am tired, I can't talk, phone, text, carrier pigeon with you anymore." Then I need to stop communicating with them until I am ready to engage.
It's that second part that is really difficult for me. I am trained to respond to queries. My upbringing taught me that my needs were always superseded by my mother's. She worked full time and was middle aged. I was young and just went to school, so no matter what I was doing, I was expected to drop everything and attend to her when she called. I carried that to my children, my husband, my friends. If someone contacts me, regardless of the medium, I feel obligated to respond. It is really hard for me to put down my phone when it makes noise at me.
I have to remember that it is okay to be unavailable. I have to remember that I don't have to apologize for being in pain, for being tired or being ill. It's not a mistake I made or a poor life choice. It's simply the way I am. The people that love me will understand and the rest can leave me the hell alone.
I am going to explain why I am trying to push for the positive. I regret that to explain does not make for a terribly positive post.
I have Hashimoto's Disease. I was diagnosed ten years ago. I live with it because I have no alternative. As I have gotten older, the symptoms and complications have gotten worse. Each time I get sick, it takes longer for me to recover my health. It means that something as simple as an earache becomes a lesson on what it means to be in chronic pain. It means hoping that I will get better before the next illness hits me. It means spending all of my sick leave every year.
I hate the spoon theory right now. I wish I had spoons. I would love some spoons, because I have shit that I am supposed to accomplish, regardless whether or not I have "the spoons."
I woke up in pain.
I went to work in pain.
I took medications as soon as I could, but:
I taught my classes while in pain until the medicine kicked in.
The pain medications aren't as effective as they used to be, but I can't take more, so I just go through my day in pain, with some blessed periods where the pain isn't too bad.
I don't eat much, because between the medications, my diabetes, and the fact that I am in pain means finding food and eating it is often more trouble than its worth. However, the pain medication upsets my stomach, so if I don't eat, I can add nausea to the mix.
I am not sure which is worse, the nausea or the pain. I suppose it doesn't matter, because either way, I am still in pain.
I feel like the people in my life don't understand that part. I am still in pain.
I feel like I am constantly apologizing. I apologize because I didn't make dinner. I apologize for not feeling social. I apologize because I need more than I give. I apologize for needing anything. I think that "I'm sorry." are the words I say the most every day.
I also hide. I hid that I was in excruciating pain this morning. I went to sleep tense and increased my pain. When I am asked how I was feeling, I hid behind a smile and said, "I'm doing better" so that they wouldn't feel guilty for going to work.
A friend quoted Ben Franklin today, "Tell me and I forget. Teach me and I remember. Involve me and I learn." So I have tried. I have attempted to involve people in what is going on with me.
A friend has to be in Palo Alto tomorrow. They asked if they could stay in my guest room. They specifically said, "I know I am asking you for a favor, so I don't want to ask too much."
I believed this person was aware of what is going on. I let them know that I hadn't gotten home yet, but that I didn't mind having them over. However I also told them, "I'm in pain. I didn't sleep well...If you just want to avoid the traffic, you're welcome to come down whenever and sleep in the guest bed."
The person offered their help and support three times. I declined, replying "I just got home. There's no dinner prepped. I'm tired. I'm in pain. So if you want to sleep in the guest bed, let me know. I'm not up to being pleasant and understanding today, so I won't ask anything of you."
They replied, "I'm sorry. I don't have the spoons to come down tonight. Thank you for understanding."
Then they had the temerity to complain that they were going to have to drive in traffic. That is when I lost it. I stopped apologizing. I stopped hiding. I stopped giving a fucking damn. I had tried to teach my friend what was going on with me. I tried to involve them. I thought that they were willing to share this with me, that they wanted to understand. I thought they cared and meant their offer of help. I guess I can't blame them since I did what many people in chronic pain do, I apologized, I hid, and I pretended to be fine.
But I am not fine. Because. I. Am. Still. In. Pain.
I made dinner even though I was in pain. If I didn't cook, I wouldn't eat. I didn't get to skip doing my laundry tonight. I haven't done it in days and if I didn't do it tonight, I wouldn't have clean clothes tomorrow. It didn't matter if I ran out of spoons when my friend asked me if they could spend the night in the guest room. It didn't matter that after I was honest with them about my pain, they decided that they weren't up to taking me up on the favor that they had asked me for.
It didn't matter, BECAUSE I AM STILL IN PAIN.
I ate my dinner. I made cheddar potato soup because it doesn't hurt to eat it and it coats my stomach enough for another round of pain medication. As a diabetic, it's a crappy choice, but it was what was available at home. Soup was all I could handle because I am in pain.
I took my pain medications because they do provide some relief. It's enough relief that I can rotate the laundry, at least. That's about all, because I am still in pain.
I hesitated to write this entry because I don't want to people to think that they have to tiptoe around me. I am not an invalid. I just want people to have a clue how much I am sometimes hiding, how compelled I feel to apologize and how much support I could really use at times. I understand that there are people, many people, who are unable to offer that sort of support. I understand, I really do. I sympathize. It sucks to see someone in pain and feel like there is nothing you can do.
What I can't stand is when someone offers their help or takes a favor and then decides that they can't follow through. When someone tells me that they don't have the spoons, the energy, of whatever, but only after I tell them what is going on with me, honestly and openly.
Someone says that they will help and then they don't. Someone calls me on their way home and asks me if I need anything and then stays in their room all night because they are tired. Someone calls me and refuses to listen to my problems because they want to tell me all about theirs. In all of those cases and so many more, I am powerless to do anything but stew, because I am still in pain.
And that is what chronic pain means to me. It means putting up with everything with this constant reminder that it hurts. it doesn't matter if people remember today or not, because I am still in pain. It doesn't matter if dinner was made. It doesn't matter if anyone offered to help me with my laundry. It doesn't matter if a friend asked a favor and then decided that they didn't want to deal with me. It doesn't matter.
Because I am still in pain.
However what does matter is that now I am in more pain. I ate food that wasn't great for me, which will have consequences later. I did chores that I didn't have energy for, so I am more tired than I should be. However the worst of it is that I am in pain and feel all alone, so distracting myself becomes nearly impossible.
I also feel ashamed, because I have nothing to offer of value. I am just in pain and need. I apologize, I try to hide, but it isn't enough. Nothing is enough and so all I can do is try to keep everyone from knowing how bad it is. That I honestly don't know how I will survive another night hurting like this. I don't know how I can sleep without pills and know that with them the sleep isn't meaninful. I don't know how to control my blood sugar when I can't eat the way I should. I go to sleep knowing that tomorrow I will wake up in pain and I will have to go through it all over again.
I'm still in pain and it colors everything else, every interaction, every relationship, every word I speak and every thought I have.
I don't have any fucking spoons. I just have stuff I have to do, whether I want to or not. I make hard choices but it's not about whether or not I will do a thing. It's about how much damage I will do in the short term and hope that I will somehow make it through the end of the day so I can do it all over again.
And this is why if anyone tells me that they have run out of spoons I think I might have to take an actual spoon and shove it up their sinuses via their nose. Then maybe they'd have an idea of what my life has been like for the past few weeks.
Okay, time for some food so I can take the next round of pain killers before bedtime. Milk is too cold, so tea and cookies it is. Is it healthy? No, but my healthy alternatives hurt and are too difficult to come by.
Because, I am still in pain and I have get some sleep, at least.
Tell me and I forget. Teach me and I remember. Involve me and I learn. Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/b/benjaminfr383997.h
I don't have a lot to say (for once). Oh wow, I just did it. The thing that I am going to try and stop doing. *sigh*
Okay, I am going to try again.
I decided to try stop apologizing and simply say thank you.
I am going to try and respond with a positive answer.
I am going to try and declare what I want and accept that the answer is no and that it isn't personal.
This isn't easy, but I am going to try it for a while and see how things go. Wish me luck.
Depression has to one of the most vile afflictions known to humans. I can think of nothing more devastating to one's day to day life that dealing with an illness that has is so misunderstood and receives so little support.
Last night I made a damn fool of myself and spoke to them.
The exchange didn't go well. I was emotional and upset. They were also emotional and upset and I feel that we are no better off than we were. Well, that's not entirely true. I did learn a piece of information that I didn't know. They thought that I had decided to break up with them while I thought they had initiated the break up.
I don't want our relationship to end. I never did. I am frustrated because I feel like I need their support and they are withholding it. I understand that it isn't deliberate. I understand better that they are in the midst of a nasty depressive episode and I am trying to accept that they simply can't help me.
I would like to reiterate that the world is stupid. It should be all their fault and I should get to be full of righteous indignation, having been wronged.
I just want things to be better, to be fixed. I don't know how to do that. I guess I should just leave them be, since everything else seems to make things worse. Having dealt with my own depression, it seems that leaving them alone is the worst possible solution. (Yes, I have my own needs and a lot of the conflict has been because I feel like my needs aren't getting met.)
I feel that my options are limited. I think I better understand why anger is so often a part of a break up. It's a lot easier to be angry than recognizing that the other person is hurting. I am leaving someone I love in an emotional oubliette. Yes, I know that, like me, they have people who love and care for them. That doesn't make it any easier to leave when I know they are in such pain.
I don't know if I should stay. I don't trust my emotions and sticking around where I don't feel welcome makes me feel desperate. I also doubt that they feel that they can tell me, "Rachel, I need you. Can you please do X, Y, and Z and listen to me about a, b, and c? I think that would really help me."
I know I could be patient. I know that I could just wait. However if you really think that I am truly capable of patience, you haven't met me, have you?
I am not looking forward to this weekend. I hate the idea of trying to distract myself from these thoughts and pretending that everything is going as planned. I should be at the music festival or Ren Faire. I should be, but I don't know if I can.
Maybe that's why I am obsessing over The Alan Parson's Project right now. It's something distracting and absorbing, but familiar enough not to be difficult. Thus another song from them today. I hadn't remembered that they had adapted a poem from Edgar Allan Poe, although I am pretty sure I had been told.
I just spent the past hour walking around my campus talking to my colleagues. I resolved a number of the things that were causing me stress at work. Usually I just e-mail because I am on the other side of campus from my department. The upside has been that I am almost completely unaware of any of the drama that has been going on. The administration also forgot that I could be called upon to proctor for PSAT testing next Wednesday, so I will have a wonderfully easy day.
The downside is that I don't talk to my coworkers nearly often enough. I opted out of the collaboration time due to union concerns. My current schedule makes it difficult for me to get over to the department office for lunch. I have been really anxious and depressed, which has made leaving my classroom even harder.
I was also reminded that talking is always better than writing or texting. Talking to someone openly and honestly, face to face can resolve a lot of issues. It can't resolve everything and communication is something I have been poking at. I was not raised by conversationalists. My family is made up of linguists, historians and storytellers. We are great at holding court and dominating the conversation, but listening is not one of my better skills. In addition, I spend my day being approachable to 160+ teenagers. I am tired of handling everyone's problems, by the end of the day, I find it very hard to listen after a day of not feeling heard.
I am going to try and get better at listening. I stumbled across an article about the Ford Technique, it's a bit simple, but it is a place to start with my students (and everyone else.)
Relationship Processing
I know I have been writing up a storm in my blog. I feel like I am mostly purging my cache. I feel like it's repetitive and not me at my most constructive. I believe that's perfectly acceptable, I am processing and in my opinion what I have been writing is what processing is. Anyway, I don't see my therapist for two more weeks. :-/
Someone recently commented to me and said, "So, you broke up with that person?" And I had to think about it and I said, "Technically you can't break up a relationship that was already off and on. Don't get me wrong, there is, was, and likely will be a relationship. However, whatever we were it was undefined and I believe that was part of the problem."
They gave me a look and told me to quit being a such a damn diplomat and just talk.
I thought about it for a minute and I tried again, "Ok, yes, I guess you could say I broke up with them, but in my head. It's not what I wanted. It's not making me happy. I tried e-mailing, but I felt it was just us taking pot shots at the other and it wasn't resolving anything. I tried texting, but that wasn't any better. We aren't talking, we haven't spoken since things when so badly on Monday. I just backed off of them and the relationship."
I continued, 'I can't stand being in limbo and I feel like we have been in relationship limbo for so long. I decided that I should try to move forward as though we are "broken up". I have a blog, I wrote down that we were broken up because that is a reflection of my current reality and made it real to me. Because hope is killer when your heart is broken.. Already frustrated, angry and in the middle of a raging snit, I took their silence to what seemed like an obvious conclusion that they had already broken the relationship with me and left me in the dust.'
My friend nodded and responded, "So you were tired of having Schrodinger's Relationship?"
I frowned and said, "I guess that is as accurate as anything, and honey I love you, but you are a huge nerd."
"You're going to blog this aren't you?"
"Umm...yeah."
Another song from Hair, but I am going with the Three Dog Night Version, since I can't find a better version on You Tube.
One of my favorite psychology jokes goes like this: Therapist: During our last session, I suggested you write a letters to people that you feel have hurt you and then burn them. Patient: I did that, it really helped me work through my anger. I just have one question: what do I do with the letters?
I have not contacted the 'relationship person" since Tuesday. That might not seem like a big deal, but we were in the habit of talking daily. Silence is difficult for me (as I have noted). I suppose I should be grateful, they stopped responding to anything I was saying. whenever I am tempted to contact them, I just remember that they made the choice to stop talking to me and try to respect it. I nearly broke down and wrote to them at 3am this morning. I woke up with a lot of stress induced pain. I took some ibuprofen and while I was waiting for it to kick in, I thought of things I wanted to say. I thought about writing them down. Remembering the results of a friend who contacted their ex at 3am, I distracted myself until I went back to sleep. I didn't write to that person, but the ideas are still in my head. So I'll put my thoughts here, because they are festering.
It really came down to a couple of questions.
1) Was what stuff this person felt they needed to accomplish last weekend so important that it was worth destroying any chance of rebuilding our relationship? Was there any one thing that was so essential for this week that they couldn't have extended some understanding and compassion and cut me some slack this past weekend? I know that question might seem a bit harsh. It probably is. However, one of the things I have been thinking about is how often that many women put aside their own priorities for the needs of their family, their loved ones and even their friends. I suppose it is something I have had to internalize as a teacher, there are a million things that you will want to accomplish and a good teacher realizes that on some days they are lucky if they manage to get one thing on that list completed. Maybe I am being inflexible or unsympathetic, but I can't think of anything that was on the person's list that was so important that it was worth ending a relationship over. Maybe it was that they feel that I didn't respect that they had a list at all? 2) I did not cease communications until it was clear that I would receive no response. Is that what they want, to stop all communication? Because that is what it seems like and given their silence, I feel I have no option but to respect their silence with the same. I guess I have hit the part where I regret. I know that the relationship, at least its current iteration, is not viable. I usually feel that months of separation and limited to zero communication is best for everyone involved. I mostly feel that way with regards to this person. However having given it some thought, I realize that my usual protocol has flaws. This person and I have too many connections who can be patient in the short term, but within a few weeks I feel our silence will be an issue. There is carpooling, going to the bathroom at their house and shared social venues. I am no better at negotiating a post relationship "friendship" than I am at figuring out how to deal with a breaking heart. I was talking to my husband last night about this person. I said something sarcastic and my husband stopped me short. He told me that he has always been patient with this volatile relationship and polite to this person because he feels that this person, overall, has been a valued contributor to our lives. He reminded me that between my illness, some personal things and other outside factors, I am raging and angry. It might be an appropriate response to what occurred, but that I shouldn't be too angry at this person's silence because who would want to deal with me when I am in the midst of an almighty rage fit?
I think I am right to be angry. I see my husband's point, I am raging. My anger isn't just about this past weekend, but the build up from too many similar arguments and fights. My husband was clear that he didn't think I was wrong, he called this person's actions regrettable and lacking support (if you know my husband, you would understand that is about as much anger as he is likely to express). My husband noted that when I am raging, I am not known for my compassion, reason or patience.
Why can't it just be all the other person's fault and I can be the wounded party who gets all the sympathy? Why do I have to be patient? Well, I guess I will just have to suck it up and stick it out. I may write and write and write, but every hour, every day, I don't push more words on them, I guess that's an accomplishment. Thank you for giving me an audience for my crazy ramblings. I am ending today with a quote I found yesterday. When this person and I write to each other we often try to include pithy quotes or meaningful songs. So if I were writing them a letter, this would be included at the end. "Most of us need time to work through pain and
loss. We can find all manner of reasons for postponing forgiveness. One of
these reasons is waiting for the wrongdoers to repent before we forgive them.
Yet such a delay causes us to forfeit the peace and happiness that could be
ours."
But as this isn't a letter, but a blog post, I will include a song choice. The one silver lining of this whole ordeal has been that I have been going through the Alan Parson Project discography. How I missed them is a mystery. There is so much to explore! It's a little painful, not only because this person is the one who used two of their songs to tell me...something. But also, going through the music, I can see how my father would have really appreciated their music and I have to wonder if my father ever listened to the group.
Most of us need time to
work through pain and loss. We can find all manner of reasons for
postponing forgiveness. One of these reasons is waiting for the
wrongdoers to repent before we forgive them. Yet such a delay causes us
to forfeit the peace and happiness that could be ours.
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/j/jamesefau621143.html
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/j/jamesefau621143.html
(While not directly related to the end of my relationship, the spoon theory was part of our last fight, so I am labeling it as processing. )
I know it is popular to use the spoon theory when discussing depression. I have a number of issues with it. I have spent time with people who are in chronic pain and I can see how the spoon theory has merit. I think that it is an individual decision as to whether or not someone coping with chronic pain wishes to use the spoon theory to describe their experience.
I have some issues with using the same theory to explain depression and anxiety. I agree with Rosemary, who says, "The problem is that appropriation of this term [spoons] for other uses takes away the meaning for our community..." I also don't feel that the spoon theory is accurate. Pardon, I should say it is specifically not accurate for my depression and anxiety. If other people wish to use it, that's their business.
I have to give credit to Jennie Smals who said, 'Often I wake in a morning and think, “Yes! Today is a
good day!” Then, within hours, or even minutes, the tides have turned.
Maybe my spoons are ninjas? Maybe the borrowers have been rifling
through my stash? Whatever it is, I can go from having just enough
energy to less than zero quicker than a scrambling fighter jet.
Sometimes it’s due to a weather change, sometimes it’s stress. Often I
have no clue whatsoever what happened. '
She states, "They [people who were familiar with the spoon theory] had the impression that I had some vestige of control. I do not."
I believe that everyone experiences depression and anxiety their own way. I think that when people use a metaphor, no matter how apt, to define the experience of someone else it only creates misunderstanding and conflict. As a mother, as a woman, emotional labor is something I don't consider voluntary. I simply do it. I take care of people, my family, my friends, the people who are important to me, regardless of my own resources. I don't consider the cost to myself until I end up paying for it. That is what I feel happened this past weekend. My son was ill, my husband was ill, my housemate was ill. I was ill. My son, my husband and my housemate are all male, so they were sick. I am a woman and so being ill didn't matter, It's my job to make sure everyone was being taken care of. I think one of the reasons I am so deeply hurt and angry about this past weekend is that the person who came down with the intention to help does not understand that they were expecting me to perform emotional labor. They were willing to help, but when denied my emotional labor or even the illusion that I could provide it, they got angry. They blamed me for taking their resources, their spoons as it were. I had tried to tell them that I would be unable to do any emotional labor this past weekend and that was something that I would needing from them. While walking my dog, I remembered that they had tried to tell me about their modified spoon theory during the weekend. Instead of listening and considering what they said, I apparently shut them down. I believe that they got angry at me because I was unable to provide them with the emotional labor that listening, caring, and considering what they said would have required of me. I think they got upset because I only had so many resources to spare and I didn't spare any for them. I don't know if what I feel has any merit. A discussion, I mean a truly honest conversation, has been a long time coming and yet has never been done. I feel that my attempts to openly discuss shared emotional labor with them just ends up as a game of misery poker. After this past weekend, I have given up. I tried to explain it to them. I am explaining it on my blog. I am still performing the labor, I still want the affirmation for doing it. I want someone to tell me that I made the right choice. I want my pat on the head. I want someone, anyone, to just thank me for the emotional labor that everyone seems to want, but no one seems to have asked for.
I teach psychology. One of the things I teach the students is that by stating something out loud or by writing it down, it is more likely to be internalized. It makes the information tangible and more likely to be remembered. In the case of a public declaration, it makes the person more likely to stick by what they say.
I have mentioned, on occasion, that I have been in an on again/off again relationship. It is probably obvious to anyone who has been reading that the relationship has not been going well and has resulted in many of the more emotional entries in this journal.
A quick bit of background. My husband and I are non-monogamous. My husband is fully aware of my activities with this other person. It was with deep regret when I told my husband that I felt that I had no alternative but to end the relationship. While the relationship has had its issues in the past, I felt that I still had more to learn from this person and that, with sufficient effort on both of our parts, we would work out something. This person has been a part of my life for over two years and I have found it very difficult to let this relationship end.
I am not going to identify this person by name. I know that many of you know of whom I am speaking. While I am very angry with this person, we do share some social circles. I do not wish to have their life adversely impacted by people choosing sides or otherwise judging them. I understand that this person is friend, cast mate, or otherwise a part of your life. Please feel free to skip the entries that involve this person. I understand and will not be offended if you prefer not to read about the emotional fallout of a volatile relationship ending. I do not wish to sow dissent. I won't promise to be objective; please try and remember that I am very biased and am likely to say things that are hurtful.
I have been told that it's my blog and I can write what I want to. I believe that getting through this is going to take a lot of processing on my part. I have not had to walk away from a deeply meaningful relationship for many years. I do not know how to do it and I am not sure how to deal with the pain or the loss. What I will do is label the entries where I am discussing the relationship with a red title.
As for how I am doing:
Body: I had forgotten the physical toll that ending a relationship takes. I know part of the problem is that I am still recovering from an illness. I am not sure what is sickness and what is heart pain. I imagine that there is a mix. I started crying as I was leaving work and I cried all the way home. I simply could not stop. I have been nauseous and I am having trouble falling asleep and having even more trouble waking up.
Heart: How does a decision that I know is the right one have to hurt so bad? I don't think my heart has hurt this badly since my divorce 13 years ago.
Mind: I could not justify remaining in this relationship after this past weekend. This past weekend was not the worse thing that has happened between us, but it was my final straw. I didn't realize it until I wrote the e-mail yesterday. I didn't set out to write to the person and end the relationship. I don't believe I realized what I had done until I reread it later and realized that I had effectively broken up with them. Given their continued silence, I can only assume that they are choosing not to engage with me further.
Like any relationship that has come to an end, there are a hundred moments that I could point to and say "There, that's when it was over." I could list all the things that I feel that this person has done wrong. I could be honest and list all the things I have done wrong. I know that there is fault on both sides and that we both contributed to the end of this relationship.
I am going to explain why I felt that this past weekend was the last straw. It is not to bring down judgement on the other person, but so that when I go through the next round of wanting to apologize, to forgive, to try and put the relationship back together, I will have recorded why that would be a very bad idea. I feel that what happened this past weekend is indicative of why this relationship must end and that this time there can be no chance of going back to the way things were.
The relationship was in a difficult place. We had already been dealing with concerns that we were harming each other. However, we have been associated for a long time, so we were still communicating and trying to be supportive.
I took Wednesday and Thursday from work last week due to a nasty sinus infection. I went to work on Friday, which I did manage to get through, but it set my health back consdierably. To make things worse, my son and my husband were also sick this past weekend, so the majority of the household was down. I tried to communicate that to this person on Friday.
In a text exchange I said: "It sounds like you have plenty of work to do this weekend. I'm afraid I have to spend the weekend recovering my health. It's going to be a weekend of sleeping, rest and taking it easy for me. I'm still recovering."
They responded that they were willing to come down and that we could see a movie, work on projects, or just hang out.
I responded that I really didn't know what I would be up for because I was really sick. I told them that I looked forward to seeing them on Saturday. I believe I made my best effort to tell this person that I was doing poorly and would need a lot of support.
While they were visiting, I expressed my concerns that I was asking too much, especially given that they had things to do. They assured me that they cared for me and regardless of the state of our relationship, they wanted to be there to help me.
I told them that while I really wanted them to stay, I knew I was falling apart and that I wasn't sure what they would be able to get done if they stayed.
I was in significant pain. I was still sick. I am also Mom,
so that meant that if the rest of the family was ill, I had to what I
could to take care of them. I needed to spend the day in bed and
recovering. What I ended up doing was pulling myself together and making sure people ate. I got take out on Saturday night. On Sunday, they drove me to the grocery store for food and then I made chicken stew with their help. That was all I was able to accomplish and it wiped me out completely.
On Sunday night, they were withdrawn and unhappy and they mentioned that they hadn't accomplished what they set out to do during the weekend. I apologized and told them that I would understand if they went home to take care of what they needed to do. They reiterated that they were willing to help and that they would stay.
On Monday morning we had a fight. Some of it was old stuff, but it was the point that they made in their e-mail that made me snap: "What I needed this weekend was easy. I needed to get things done. But
of the selected list of things I brought with me that I could do at your
house so I could be there for you, what did I get done? As you put it, I
did accomplish things. I went to Target. Hooray. That $2 item
definitely takes a weight off my shoulders! With that out of the way, I
can tackle this week stress-free!" (posted without permission)
I won't go into all the reasons that I feel that this was absolute bullshit and a crappy thing to do to someone when you offered to help them out. I am sure that I am not accurately explaining how I manipulated and forced them into giving up their entire weekend and thus ruined their week. I also don't fucking care. I feel I have done a lot for this person. There were a lot of things I needed this past weekend and yesterday. What I did not need was someone to blame me because I was sick and accepted their offer of help. If I have asked too much of this person, so be it. If I violated their boundaries, so be it. But I refuse to accept the blame for ruining their weekend and week because I accepted their help and prioritized my healing and recovery over things they needed to get done. I told my husband last night. I am telling you all now. I am not asking for advice. I have to admit, after this past weekend, I am very reluctant to ask anyone for help, sure that it will get thrown back in my face. It might be a relatively small thing when looking at a relationship of more than two years, but I needed help, I accepted it and feel like I was punished because I didn't make another person's needs my priority when I was sick.
So I am pulling myself completely out of the relationship. I am going to stop communicating directly with the person. (There is no way to make this blog "private".) I have disconnected from them on social media and I am going to avoid shared social venues as much as I am able. I am going to try and figure out how to get over a relationship that has meant so much and that I invested so much of myself into. I just ask that people give me some latitude while I get through this.
Today's song is an obvious choice, but I guess that's allowed.
I can't stand silence. I mean I really can't stand it. I know that I am not great at connecting to people. I know that I can isolate myself. I know that I have my issues. I still hate silence. I don't feel it's constructive.
The hardest thing about dealing with people is knowing that they can walk away and leave me in silence. I am writing here because someone is leaving me in silence and I can't keep bugging them. They don't care what I have to say and they aren't answering.
The hardest thing about letting a relationship go is that since I am such a talker, I am usually left with questions unanswered. I am usually left in silence, crying and feeling abandoned and alone. I also feel incredibly stupid.
The past few days have been a lot of crying, feeling abandoned and far too much silence. I don't even know what to do, because the two people in the world I want to rely on aren't available and have pushed me away.
I am so angry, so frustrated, so alone. I feel so unheard. I feel so fucking stupid.
One of the people sent me "Don't Answer Me" (video link) as an answer, but that just hurt. It seems that there will be no breaking the silence?
I just want to understand and I don't. Fine, I am going with a different song from Alan Parsons that I do understand and fuck the people that I thought I could rely on, who should be here and aren't. I may have to stop talking to them or asking them for the help; but I don't have to be quiet about it.
I started this blog as a way to work on therapy things. I have always had a propensity to write...a lot. I find that writing, whether it be careful analysis about what I am thinking or ranting about the things that are bothering me, is essential for my mental processing.
At the moment, writing isn't working. I feel like too many people are playing games and not interacting with me honestly. In some cases I feel like a pawn in games played by other people, powerless and unaware of what my role is. In other instances, I feel like I am playing the game, but I don't know the rules, I don't know the objective and my opponent isn't interested in playing fair, just in making sure that I lose and humiliate myself in the process.
I could write more, but what is there for me to say? This isn't about social anxiety or depression. This is just being sick of having no agency. I am frustrated. I am tired of this. I feel like the only option is to stop playing.
My dog bit the nose off of my teddy bear and I haven't been able to hold him since. I feel like I failed this inanimate object somehow. Regardless, I want a teddy bear.
I'm sick. I am still running a low grade fever, despite antibiotics, Advil and Tylenol. I made it through work today, I even accomplished stuff, but I'm exhausted.
I want to be held. I want to cuddle with my teddy bear. I want to be taken care of. I am so tired of having to take care of everyone else. I am so tired of trying to show people I care and have it thrown back in my face. I suppose I am starting to get mean. I don't know, anymore. In some ways I don't care.
I was sick last week, so sick I stayed home. Yet I made chicken soup and chicken stew. While not totally from scratch, it wasn't from a can either. I wanted good hot cocoa, so I made it last night. I carefully warmed the milk so it didn't scald. I stirred in the cocoa, whisked in some vanilla, I even made sure to get the temperature just right. The person I shared it with didn't even notice the effort. In fact, they complained that I asked too much of them yesterday. I was sick, I made stew, I made cocoa and I was asking too much?
I called my mother today. She brought me up to date with her court case. I told her I had been sick with a sinus infection all week and she barely acknowledged it. She just had to tell me about what was going on with her. I understand, it's bad. The young men who assaulted her are not taking the plea deal. That means that they probably think that they can get a better deal by going through court. It means that there will be more hearings and more time missed in November. I tried to tell one of the people I live with and they were too busy catching up on their own work and they didn't pay attention to me and pretty much ignored what I was telling them. Here's this frustrating thing that I want to discuss with someone and no one seems to care.
The house isn't clean. The puppy keeps chewing on boxes. I don't know why it doesn't occur to anyone that if I am sick and my husband is sick and we keep going to work, maybe we aren't up to taking care of tidying up the living room. Maybe we aren't up to exercising the dogs properly. Maybe we aren't up to doing anything. But I guess I have to point out that these things need to be done?
I asked someone for help. They came to the house to help. They didn't cook. They didn't clean. They kept me company, apparently to their detriment, They complained how "helping" me prevented them from doing any of their stuff and now their week will be stressful. I wish I hadn't asked them for anything, because their complaints just made me feel like shit.
I came home to nothing being put on for supper, which is regrettably the usual. I didn't tell anyone what to do. I was the only one who went to work today, so obviously I am the only one who can cook.
I guess I am asking too much. I guess that asking that people recognize I am sick, that I am tired, that I am in pain and that I can't fucking help them with their problems is too much for anyone to get. I guess expecting anyone to recognize that this past month has been a royal crap fest and that I could use some respite is too much for people to understand.
I love my son and I am sorry that he can't use the college web system, but I don't care today.
I am sorry that my husband isn't feeling well, but he doesn't have to write a lesson plan for every day of work he misses.
I am sorry that my mother had her house broken into, but I don't care about how aggressive the sales man was or why she didn't get the deluxe package.
I am sorry that my "helper" had things to do this weekend and by spending time with me, I prevented them from doing anything.
However, mostly I am tired of people expecting my emotional labor and for me to give a damn about them when they can't see that I'm in pain, that I am crying and that I am about ready to ask to go to the ER. Why the emergency room? Because, if one more person tells me how little I am doing for them, I am going to cause harm to myself or others.
I just want to curl up with a teddy bear and cry, but I can't even do that because the dog will try to chew it's fucking face off.
I am tired of being sick. I am tired of being alone. I am tired of carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. I am tired of it and I feel like nobody cares. And at the moment, I think I could deal with that if people didn't expect me to care about them.
No song for this one, I don't care enough and no one else notices them anyway.
Last week a friend from high school passed away. I am not aware of all the details, but given that he was younger than me, it's been a bit of a wake up call. I am just not sure about what.
I was rather blessed as a child. I don't recall losing anyone close to me. I don't recall any funerals or memorials. I really didn't know how to deal with death as a child, because I never had to. Even my great grandmother
When I was 18, someone in our group passed away due to complications after a car accident. His girlfriend and I grew up in the same neighborhood. Scott and I were acquaintances, if that. I attended his funeral, but not because we were close. I ended up chauffeuring his best friend, who was barely capable of doing anything. I could drive, I wasn't terribly emotional and so I spent the day of the funeral driving his best friend and other people to and from the memorial and other life celebrations. I stayed sober and kept people safe.
I lost my grandmother when I was 19, and my other grandmother when I was 23. In fact, I lost so many members of my family in my 20s that I had a "funeral dress". Funerals just became a part of life, but one I didn't know how to deal with. I cried, I grieved and I went through all the stages, but mourning wasn't something I really knew how to do.
In 2003, a friend from my high school/college group passed away. It was sudden, he passed away from an aggressive form of cancer. I remember that one day I was told he was in the hospital, but it wasn't serious. A couple of weeks later, I heard that he had died. I remember going to the funeral. I hadn't seen B in years. We weren't in touch. Going to the funeral made me realize how much I missed having him in my life, when it was too late to matter.
There is something else I remember. I was in the middle of a break up. The person in question had sent me a break up e-mail, but between taking time off from work and going to the funeral, I hadn't seen it. I remember them telling me later that they had checked Livejournal and my other online haunts to get a read on my reaction. The person was completely stunned by my silence. They were waiting for an argument, a refusal to accept the break up, something.
I remember reading the e-mail the day after the funeral and I laughed. After watching my friends grieve, after seeing a life cut short, a life that was so celebrated, so beloved and was leaving such a hole, my life seemed stupid. The break up seemed obvious. I was in a bad place in my life, so I let that relationship go. I was in a job I hated, so I quit and went back to school.
There were many factors that changed my life in 2003 and 2004. However, I am quite sure that it was realizing that I would never be able to talk to Brandon that started things for me. I'd never hear him say "Is that any good?" while poking at my food again. I'd never hear his rather blunt brand of advice when I asked him about life stuff. It was those realizations, as much as anything else that started me on the path towards change. It wasn't a desire to make Brandon proud of me, but that I wanted my life to be at least somewhat meaningful before I left this world. His friends still feel his loss. I can only hope I am remembered as fondly.
A couple of years ago, another member of the friend's group passed away. Brandon and David had been friends the entire time I knew them. David and I weren't terribly close. He dated my roommate when we were 18, I had kept in touch with him off and on. We were friends on Facebook and that sort of thing. I thought very well of him, but our lives hadn't intersected much in the past few years. However his death hit me harder than Brandon's because I saw the impact on his family and friends. If Brandon is remembered fondly, David is remembered as the person that was always there for 3am weirdness or for the ideas that just needed a sounding board.
I felt the impact of David's loss in my own life and began realizing that I missed the connections to these people with whom I had grown up. That this friend's group was a family, people who had seen me at my worse, my best and in between. In a world where I felt continuously judged and found wanting, these friends didn't care, if anything they probably just shrug their shoulders and say, "Well, that's just how Rachel has always been."
I have no siblings. My grandparents are gone. My father passed in 2011. I am beginning to understand that the closest I have to family are these people that I walked away from 20 years ago. People whom I walked away from, but never walked away from me.
Last week, Doug passed away. I am tired of stating the obvious. We weren't close. We were friends, but many years ago. I never met his wife. I didn't know him as an adult. I had always meant...
Yeah
I know that death and grieving often becomes a time of self-reflection. That's where I am at now. I am thinking. I have been getting better about connecting with my friends from high school and college. I have been trying to see their acceptance as the gift that it has always been. I don't know how many more times I need death to remind me that time is fleeting and that the people that are in my life today may not be there tomorrow. I am trying to get better about seeing the friends I have currently. I don't want to think of another friend only when it is too late to tell them what they mean to me.
I do not know how to mourn Doug, David, or Brandon. I suppose when I listen to Queen, Oingo Boingo, or Fiddler on the Roof I am grieving them. I guess when I remember the jokes we shared (Never, ever split a bottle of Southern Comfort with Doug if you value your liver, your sobriety, or your self-respect.) I can never think about Rocky Horror without thinking of Brandon and Dave and their Hillbillies. I feel like there is something more I should be doing. I just don't know what.
I do understand that loss is a part of growing older. I know that I need to learn the lessons, address the regrets and most importantly remind myself that the people in my life may not be there tomorrow.
There is a song that we sing in many of my social venues, so it is today's song. I am using the version as done by the band that played at my wedding. I like it because it isn't done as a dirge, but as the sort of thing I would want to sing with my friends, especially hearing the lovely voices of Brandon, David, and Doug joining in.
