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The worst week.

Nov 28, 2014 - 29 comments

Oh God MH.  Yesterday I saw in full technicolor the ravages of addiction.  My aunt (my mom's sister) is a RAGING alcoholic, and I mean raging.  She carries a bottle of vodka in her purse at all times and I've seen her pass out drunk at 10 am on more than one occasion.  It has always been extremely upsetting to me and my family.  When I moved back home 7 years ago, so did she.  She'd been kicked out by her alcoholic husband and left her 13 year old daughter and moved across the country to live with my Gramma.  They have an incredibly dysfunctional relationship.  My gramma totally enables her and it makes me and my mom and dad crazy.  My gramma is nearly 90 years old and my aunt Deb lives off of her.  She's been fired from 6 jobs in 3 years.  She goes out all night and comes home wasted.  She is 61 years old.  I've been trying to get someone to do something about it for years.  I have suggested interventions, I have arranged them.  Everyone bails at the last minute.  I can't tell you how many times I've heard the comment "Oh Deb is doing much better.  She hasn't had a drink for a week".
You can imagine how crazy this makes me feel.

A year ago I stopped going to all family functions including Sunday dinners if she was there.  She is an incredibly obnoxious drunk.  She talks over top of everyone and spouts B.S.  She is incredibly embarrassing.  I had to ask her to stop coming to my work functions and shows.  I told her she wasn't welcome as long as she was drinking.  She is and always will be, in denial.

Well.  A month ago my mom told me she'd been having grand mal seizures.  Apparently, she'd had two in the early part of October.  The last one she almost bit off her tongue.  She refused to see a doctor and NO ONE pushed her to do so.  My gramma didn't even call an ambulance when she had one infront of her.  She merely continued to watch TV.  When I heard about this, I confronted Deb and do you know what her answer was?
"Oh, it's because I drank beer.  Gramma and I have discovered that beer doesn't agree with me."

I was like ARE YOU F-ING KIDDING ME?????
I told her she needed help or she was going to die.  She ignored me so I walked away.
Then, yesterday my mom was supposed to come and take me to my doctor's appointment.  It's about a 45 minute drive away and I was in too much pain to drive alone.  She called me ten minutes before she was supposed to pick me up and was hysterical.  She was at the store she manages.  My aunt was having a seizure.  They were taking her by ambulance to the hospital.

I drove to my appointment alone.  I am embarrassed to say that I was kind of hoping she would die.  I just HATE what she's done to my family and what she will continue to do.

After my appointment I went to the hospital.  She was awake but confused.  But my mom....Oh god.  My mom was destroyed.  Apparently the seizure was so violent that they almost lost her in the ambulance and had to call in a second set of paramedics.  She turned black.  Blood flew everywhere.  My mom was so traumatized.

The seizures have happened because Deb quit drinking vodka.  She still drinks beer, wine, and ciders, but she quit drinking vodka because my Gramma told her she had to.  I mean SERIOUSLY????

So,  she's gone to medical detox.  I had a moment alone with her and I said "See,  do you understand now what you're doing to yourself?"
She said.
"I don't think it's that, because I never get drunk"
I seriously almost smacked her.
I said
"Yeah, you don't get drunk because you have TOLERANCE AND YOU ARE ALWAYS DRUNK"

I told her it wasn't going to be enough for her to go to detox.  She would have to work a program after.  And if she ever had a drink again, she could die.  She just looked at me.  I got my mom together and we left.

My gramma is in denial still.  Even after listening to me talk about the truths of addiction for half an hour, give statistics, and suggestions for rehab clinics she did not react.  She said that Deb was going to be fine.
My mom won't push her.
So here I am.  I guess you can tell I am very angry.  I have been crying for two days.
I am so upset at what she's done to my family.
And you know I'm an addict.  And I know when I look in another addict's eyes whether they are willing to do what it takes to get clean.
She is not,
She is not even humbled by almost dying in an ambulance.
She enjoyed the attention.

I told my mom last night that I am done.  I will not engage with her in any way.  I will not have Christmas with her, or go to any family functions.  I won't be apart of this enabling.

Am I being too harsh?  All i know is that I've never been so angry,  and the truth is- I don't really care about her.  But i HATE what she's doing to the people that I love the most.  Yes I know she is sick.  And this is pretty awful that I can't find compassion for her.  Because how different are we really?
I never did anything to hurt anyone with my addiction.  the only person I hurt was myself.  And as soon as I saw that it was having an affect on the people I loved, I did what I had to do to get the help that I needed.

I am angry at myself for being angry,
I have to go to work now..


Oct 29, 2014 - 6 comments

I know my body is healing but what about my soul?  I feel so damn weary even though I've been doing nothing but resting.  I have no hunger or thirst for life right now.  It's scaring me a bit.  My best friend came over the other night and told me she is concerned that I am a little depressed.  I shrugged it off but the truth is, I think she is right.  Every time I think about going back to work I feel a pit of dread in my stomach.  This doesn't make any sense to me because I love my work.  It's just that it demands so much of me....And I feel so drained.  My well is empty.

I can feel Andrew's frustration and worry.  He wants me back.  I want me back too.  Maybe this is just the post trauma effect.  I am only now starting to see how long I was living in hell for.  How hard I had to fight to make it through the past 6 months in the pain and suffering while maintaining my life and work.

I am exhausted by the effort.  I'm not sure what my next move is.  I'm scared that even A is going to tire of this quickly.  I know I have to do something to turn this around but I am not sure what.  I need to see if I can make an appointment with my counselor.  However, my free sessions are up and I am flat broke.

Maybe it's my hormones?  My period is late, which is not unusual considering the trauma that I've been through.  But the first period after surgery is horrific and I want to get it over with.  Then I can start my taper.  I mean, I've started to taper but I know that I will have to take meds to make it through that week or so that my period will be.  I certainly feel like it's coming.  I have this terrible pain in my groin that radiates down my legs.  Lower back ache.  Stabbing pain in cervix and left ovary.  Feeling like I'm going to black out every time I go to the bathroom because the pain is so intense.  Plus the fact that my breasts are so swollen and tender I can barely stand fabric touching them.  I just want to get this sh*t over with.

Who knows, maybe going back to work will make me feel better.  More like me.  I have had this head ache for 3 weeks that will not abate.  I wake up with it every morning and have had it since surgery.  I thought it was after effects of the gas and anaesthetic, but it's been 3 weeks.  3 weeks today.  I have been drinking a ton of water and eating properly, most of the time.  I don't have much of an appetite.  I'm really skinny right now.  Less than 100 lbs.

  I went in to the studio to pay my sub last night and all my students were so happy to see me.  I felt shaky and overwhelmed just being in a room with so many people.

The truth is....I just feel really vulnerable and shaky right now.  I feel like if someone looked at me the wrong way I would fall to pieces.  I feel like I want to build a wall around me and cocoon inside.  I just don't feel ready to face the world yet.

I signed up for this writing course.  I haven't taken any time to be a student myself in 3 years.  And I have this really great idea for a play that I know I will not write unless I'm in a structured environment with a deadline.  It starts next week.  I think it will be good for me, but I also fear that I am asking too much of myself on top of going back to work.

I need comfort.  I've been pushing everyone away.  I miss smiling and laughing.  I miss feeling inspired.  I miss intimacy with Andrew.  He's been so amazing and patient and kind but I can feel that he is weary of this also.  Last night he told me he couldn't wait for me to get back to my life, that he was excited for me.  And you know how that made me feel?  Hurt.  And pressured.  Why?

I don't get it.  I should want to get back to life, shouldn't I?  So why does the idea of it fill me with dread?  Why do I just want to pull the blankets up over my head and cuddle with my cat all day.  A week ago I couldn't wait to get out of this bed and back to my life and today all I want to do is stay in bed indefinitely.

Is this what depression feels like?  IDK....I've never really been depressed.  Maybe after I left my abusive husband and moved back in with my parents and was on massive amounts of drugs.  I was def depressed then.

Maybe it's depression, maybe it's just the stress of all I've been through, or maybe just maybe it's my hormones.
Whatever it is, I hope that it shifts soon.  I miss myself.

Thanks for listening to me whoever ends up reading this.  I had to get it out.  I'd tried writing it in my paper journal but kept gapping out and staring into space.


Tough spot

Oct 21, 2014 - 12 comments

I am not better yet.  I feel like I could use another week in bed at least.  But I have to teach tomorrow night because I don't have the money to pay a sub.  I'm going to the doctor.  I feel panicked.  I hurt so much still.  I don't know what to do.  Part of me never wants to go back.  I realized I am feeling a little traumatized from everything that has happened.  I need to talk to someone.  I'm going to the doctor now.


Oct 17, 2014 - 10 comments

I can hardly see the computer screen because my tears are so thick.  I have the worst pain I have ever felt.  And I've felt a lot of pain.  Like A LOT.  I am 8 days post op and pain has made me vomit, twice.  The pain meds don't even take the edge off and you know, they're strong.  The big guns.  I feel like I have a hot knife inserted in my cervix, through my bladder, out my back.  Why?  Why now?  I'm not swollen.  My wounds are healing fine.  I haven't moved barely a muscle in a week.  I've been waited on hand and foot.  The most exertion I've had was going to the doctor.  I'm going again tomorrow.  And vomiting.  God.  Vomiting and heaving after you've just had surgery on your abdomen is a special kind of hell.  I can't do this anymore.  I swear to God I can't.  I held on, you know I did, so hard and long to this surgery.  The surgery that removed the stuff.  The stuff that was making my life HELL.  The only problem is now it is gone, but my body doesn't realize it?  IDK.  I know I have a bladder infection but I'm high dosing Cipro so that can't be it.  It comes in waves.  This pain has it's own heart beat.  It has it's own planet and IT IS HOLDING ME HOSTAGE!

I can't endure this much longer.  What do I do?  Keep taking pain meds till I pass out?  I want to get off these damn things and I'm already concerned about the taper of the dosage that I'm taking.  I feel so trapped.
This hot knife of pain is wreaking havoc on me.  It is soul crushing.  I'm literally watching the clock daring myself to hang on for just one minute.  Then just a minute more.  Andrew just got home from work to find me bawling like a baby after working a 12 hour day.  I so want to greet him with a smile.  He's been through this **** with me for the past 6 months.  He's tired of it too.

I am just gonna pray and surrender to this pain because I HAVE NO OTHER CHOICE.  I am sweating from it, nauseous from it, consumed by it.  There is nothing else right now.  Only me and this pain.  I want to kill it but it just won't die.