Dear Mom

12 May

I’m hungover today, a sure sign that Dad has gone for the summer. We had a great night, but now? My head hurts. But that’s ok, since both of my daughters are giggling madly.

It’s a dark cold morning. It’s been warm all week, but suddenly, the clouds roll in and the sun hides and I find myself tongue-tied, at a loss for words that mean anything more than what I ate for breakfast (veggie dogs, lemon yogurt and berries, if you’re wondering. I can’t eat eggs, and I crave protein in the morning)

Mom, would you have an opinion on everything I do? My brother does, chastising me for us not having a car, despite me explaining the 500+ we save each month, despite my desire to not exhale crap everyday on the earth because I’m too lazy to walk or take the bus. Would you find it so odd that I can’t eat certain foods, and have to make up for it somewhere else? That my inability to digest things leads me to eat safe, crappy food? That your daughter is digustingly fat, and feeling increasingly sullen and lost about it? The weight piles on without effort, seemingly spun from the air. Counting calories makes my head hurt. Mom, I’m just so fucking lost with it all.

Should I stop taking my pills? I don’t think they’re helping. I don’t feel like I can get the help I need unless I take all my pills, all at once. I’ve been feeling this lately, increasingly, as I notice my life is almost worse than it was before. I’m failing at everything I touch, and I’m losing the words to put it into perspective.

Mom, I dreampt of zombies last night, again. It’s always fucking zombies, and me running, trying to avoid becoming swept into a world that I rise against, that I refuse to become part of. The mindless gibbering masses, blindly spending money to fit in, however that is. (And hell, the stuff I did at 16 to NOT fit in people do now to FIT in. How in the HELL can someone rebel now? Eat a dog raw?) I woke up scared and wanting to escape. Trapped in a corner, I could not escape being devoured by something simpler and yet stronger than I. Something worse.

I thought I was happy-I thought I had finally figured out the secret, found the switch but fuck hasn’t someone hidden it again. I’m tired of this Mom. I’m tired of being unhappy, of being tired and sad and short-tempered and mad and useless. Ugly. I’m tired of fighting with medications, trying to get a doctor to understand that yes, weight gain and sexual dysfunction IS a FUCKING BIG DEAL. I’m so tired of feeling disconnected, lost, unmotivated.

Somedays Mom, I’m tired of being alive. I hate myself so much somedays that I so want to die. I want the waves of life and death to spin me from my own grasp, and take me away. And I hate myself even more for believing in taking the easy way. I mean shit, you waited for us as babies, you watched us grow, you tried to hang on through the cancer. And I can’t even get excited over the things you wanted so much. I take it so much for granted, and I wish I couldn’t, wish that I didn’t. But I know no other way. I do not know how to enjoy being alive for longer than a few months.

I hate this. It’s eating me alive, this “disorder” this chaos and I’m lost within it. WHo the fuck am I? Did I know as a child? Did I have a personality that didn’t change from day to day? Was I even nice to anyone? I know that other people are suffering more than I, in many many ways, and that what’s happened to me, and what goes on in my head is nothing in comparision. So why do I still want to not exist? It’s that numb too-I don’t want to off myself. I just want to not wake up, to not be weighed down by all of this life that hates me so.

See, if I look at things from a biological standpoint, eventually my line of crazy will kill itself off. So maybe then I won’t have existed at all?

I hate even more the idea that my children will have this, that they will sit, 15 years from now, talking, dreaming about not being alive. About no longer suffering this obscure petulant shame and sadness. That they will wish they were never born. I wish that sometimes, and I know you’d hate it. But everytime I see one of those pro-life “save a life, your mom did!” signs I think, “Why? Why did she bother with it? What possible difference have I made on a grand scale?”

I’ve caused heartache and suffering. I’ve hurt people, accidentally almost, the way bipolar folk can. I’ve made my life into a shambles I don’t recognize. (Shouldn’t I have finished university? Done something with my life?) I tell myself that raising children is this great job, but I lie.

I fucking hate it. I fucking hate the mindnumbing boredom and irritation that it brings. The constant struggle I have to not lose my mind and spend the day screaming at them. I end up eating instead, eating cause I’m bored, mad, sad, upset. Can’t get out and run the shit off me-can’t get far with two small kids. I can’t get anything for me in that regard-there’s no time. So maybe I should stop eating instead. Something has to give.

Mom, I hate this. I hate it. I don’t know how to change it. I wish I was someone else.

Happy Mother’s Day.

9 Responses to “Dear Mom”

  1. ann adams May 12, 2007 at 10:25 am #

    I wish I knew what to say to you. I don’t.

    But I am here listening.

  2. Marcy May 12, 2007 at 3:06 pm #

    I’m sorry. I wish I could conjure up the perfect doctor and the perfect meds for you, but if I could do that I might as well conjure away the problems to begin with.

  3. Jenny R May 12, 2007 at 6:14 pm #

    I read your post and it makes me cry for you. You are so lost at times and others not. Hang on… try to find a Doctor or Hospital to get some help. There are so many out there. You can’t give up…your kids need you – they need their Mom. Your life is worth living. I send you a hug. I am listening.

  4. Jen May 13, 2007 at 7:52 am #

    Thinking of you.

  5. Netter May 13, 2007 at 4:45 pm #

    Why is it that Men’s sexual dysfunction has prompted a billion dollar industry, but for women we just have to live with it? If a guy went to his doctor and said he didn’t want to have sex, they’d set him up with a drip of something. And, yes, I’m focusing on this because I feel bereft that I don’t have anything that can help you.

  6. bon May 13, 2007 at 7:13 pm #

    thordora, dude, i wish you had a magical mom to answer all those questions for you…someone who could swoop you up and hold you and make it all okay. i am so sorry that none of us can be that, for you. i am so sorry that it’s this hard, this bad.

    every time i come here it’s your anger i’m struck by. i think your voice is one of the most honest ones in the blogosphere…from here, you don’t sound petulant, or shamed, but pissed. righteously pissed. because things ain’t right. because shit hurts, and is muddled up, and all your efforts to get help and find the right pills don’t seem to be bearing fruit and a person can only have so much patience, after all.

    but i hear the siren call of death in your words more and more, and i’m only here sometimes. i’ve never lived in that metaphorical place of despair where you are, over time, but i visited for a year or so…and it was brutalizing.

    i have nothing to offer except to say i’m listening. and i’m impressed, as ever, by the beauty in your writing. and scared by its rawness.

    and for what it’s worth, i don’t think your mother made a mistake in the ‘save a life’ department. but i know i don’t have to live your life.

    is there anything we can do that would help?

  7. bromac May 14, 2007 at 9:48 am #

    Hey Dear–what a hard day yesterday must have been for you. I’m sorry.

    I am feeling you loud and clear right now. “I’ve made my life into a shambles I don’t recognize.” I sit here, this morning, and wonder how I got to this place. And how to get out.

    Everything starts to blur together, doesn’t it. I know I used to be ok. But I don’t remember when and I don’t have a clue how to get back to that. And it all scares the shit out of me.

    It’s all so overwhelming, isn’t it? You don’t know how, but the damn snowball is spiralling so fast down the hill that it seems there is no possible way of stopping it now. And you’re scared cause you don’t know where it’s going. But you wonder if you even have the energy, or will power, or give a fuck enough to try to stop it. And you wonder if you even can.

    But the worst is what you don’t know. You don’t know what normal looks like. You don’t know what normal people think; how they feel. You don’t kow where to start from b/c you don’t know where you’re going. You don’t know what will happen, or break, next. You don’t know if your kids will suffer from this hell. And you don’t know, for darwin’s sake, if it will ever stop–leave you in peace.

    And so sometimes the unknown becomes unbearable. But somehow the unbearable has to be made bearable……b/c you can’t and won’t leave those girls.

  8. karriew May 14, 2007 at 9:59 am #

    I hate that you suffer this way. It is so unfair.

    I know it is totally inadequate, but much love your way.

  9. jkdufair May 14, 2007 at 10:10 am #

    Shit, Thor. What a hard hard time. So much suffering and you don’t deserve any of it. You’re a great woman and have made my life measurably better. I hope you get through this dark spell quickly.

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