Tuesday, November 2, 2010

I Thought Writing Might Be Cathartic

There is a relationship between depression and suicide; the risk of suicide is increased by more than 50 percent in depressed individuals. Aggregated research findings suggest that about 60 percent of suicides were depressed.*

I had a brief conversation with my mom yesterday morning about this blog.  She told me that she thinks it is destructive to my mental well-being.  I think she's blatantly against the whole premise of me sharing my thoughts in a public forum because she thinks that it will be read by people who want to do us harm (mainly, my older sister's ex and his family).  She's always told us - whenever we got in trouble in school for writing notes - that you should never write down something on a piece of paper that you don't want posted on a bulletin board.  However, when I set out to begin blogging, I considered the possibility that there may be some negative consequences to my writing some of my innermost thoughts and posting them on the internet for the world to see, and I decided that I was okay with that.  I really believe that the positive results of my blogging (for me, mentally) will outweigh any of the possible negative consequences (to myself or others). 

These last two days have been awful.  Ironically, my perception of my sister's situation with her ex-husband and kids has not changed since the determination that she was still not going to be given overnight privileges with the kids yet.  I knew that is what would happen.  I did mostly okay during the day today, even managed to go to work and be there for three hours without bursting into tears (although I did cry).  But when I got home, it was as though something heavy settled in my chest and stomach, weighing me down.  First, I'm very concerned because Phoenix is sick.  He woke me up around 4am to go outside.  I thought maybe he just had to pee, but he was acting really strangely.  At one point he sat down in the yard, as though it were daytime, and started dry-heaving.  He threw up several times, and every time we went inside, he'd lie down for a few minutes and then need to get up and go outside to puke again.  Poor guy!  I stayed up with him until he was done throwing up and then we went to bed.  When we woke up this morning, his insides were making really loud noises again so I had to assume he was not feeling well.  When I got home from work, my little sister was home and told me to go downstairs to see something.  Apparently Phoenix had either puked or had diarrhea on the floor in the basement and when my dad saw it, he threw up, too.  I had to clean up Phoenix's mess, even though I had asked my dad specifically before I left for work to keep an eye on him and make sure he could get outside if he needed to, and my dad neglected to be watchful.  I hate when Phoenix is sick, and he is vomit-y or diarrhea-y probably at least one day out of every week, so I know that I need to start being really strict with his diet.  This is going to be a challenge because my mom is constantly giving him bits and pieces of whatever she is eating, even if it is chocolate, even though I've asked her not to do it. 

I'm feeling very stressed because I am so tired of being even semi-dependent on my parents for anything.  I hate that I can't just leave the house whenever I want because my car isn't working and I have to use my dad's truck to get anywhere.  I made a phone call this morning to a mechanic and found out that it is going to cost around $100-$200 just for the diagnostic on my car to see what the problem is, then they won't let me buy a used fuel pump (because I'm pretty sure that is what is wrong), which would cut that cost in half.  On top of all that, I can't even get the stupid car started so I have to find a way to get it to the mechanic in the first place, and towing is not cheap. 

All I want is the freedom to come and go as I please without being given the freaking inquisition about where I'm going, how long I'll be gone, when I'll be back, if I'll be around for dinner, whatever.  I want to be able to nap during the day without feeling guilty about it, I want to be able to feed my dog what I want to feed him without having to feel guilty about scolding my mom for giving him people food and too many rawhides.  I want to be able to take my dog on walks when and where I please and not be made to feel guilty about how I don't give him enough exercise.  I want to be able to eat whatever food I want without worrying that the food I've bought for myself is going to get eaten by someone else, and I want to be able to eat dinner at 4:30 in the afternoon some days and 9 at night others.  I want to not have to fight with anyone over the use of the washer and dryer, and I don't want to have to worry that my things are being taken without my permission only to be broken or destroyed when I'm not home.

I got into a huge yelling match tonight with both of my parents and my sister, because I was not really talking to anyone. I saw that one of my towels that hangs on the back of the bathroom door was dirty, and asked my older sister if she had been using my it.  How the hell should I know if she hasn't been using it?!?  She's so deceptive and devious, I wouldn't be surprised if she were, and I'm really weird about that kind of stuff!  She flipped out at me, yelling at me that she hasn't, and when I asked her why she felt like she needed to scream at me when I asked her a question,a she said it's because I'm always on her for something.  She's right, I am, but I'm doing it because I feel like I need to be on edge all the time, expecting to find out that something she's used or done will effect me in some negative way!  So I yelled back that I think that she's a piece of shit of a person (which I pretty much do), and she yelled back the most hurtful thing she could think of, that she'd rather be a piece of shit of a person instead of a lonely piece of shit of a person.  I don't know why she thinks I am lonely.  I'm lonely sometimes, sure, but I have a lot of people I can talk to if I need someone.  I think she thinks I'm lonely because I stay home a lot.  Anyway, my dad decided he needed to get in on the yelling action and told me to stop cursing, and then my mom got in on it too, telling me that I have a chip on my shoulder and have had since yesterday.  Hell yes, I have a chip on my shoulder.  I shouldn't have to worry that asking for something of mine back from my sister with whom I am forced to live will cause a huge eruption that results in someone getting their hair ripped out of their head or slapped across the face a few times.  I have HAD IT.  I am so done living here, with these people who would rather walk around acting as though nothing is wrong, allowing a sociopath to live in their home and steal from them and destroy their things, and never say anything for fear of a complete meltdown.  I refuse to sit idly by as someone takes my things and my money, threatens to kill my dog, and then pretends like everything is fine.  I simply do not comprehend how my parents can be so cowardly as to not confront my sister about her taking legitimate amounts of money from them for GOD KNOWS WHAT while they're paying over $1200 a month in expenses for her.  She manipulates and takes advantage and simply walks all over them, and then literally freaks out (and you have not seen a "freak out" until you have seen her freak out) when someone accuses her of something that she has clearly done. 

I felt so childish, because all I wanted to do after arguing with my parents and having them both raise their voices to me, was to run away.  It was that childish impulse every kid has, where they want to run away after a fight because they hope that it will hurt their parents.  How immature.  But I feel like they treat me like a child!!  Mostly I am able to remind myself that I am now an adult, but it's very difficult to live at home with the people who used to send you to your room when you got out of control, and they attempt to do the same thing even though you're 26 years old.

The next steps I have to take are to find a job with more hours that pays me more hourly.  I have no choice.  I'm also going to apply for Social Security Disability assistance, because I am coming to accept the fact that I will never be able to work in a steady, full-time position because there will always be days when I cannot get out of my bed to go to work.  According to a couple sources, disability is hard to get, and will require application at least a few times before it's accepted.  I have to prepare for the long road ahead of fighting for my own cause so that I can hope to live a life where my family drama will not affect my mood so profoundly.  I know that I have a lot of people out there who want to support me and help me, and I'm going to have to take advantage of some of the help that is offered to me.  However, I need to get on my feet as an adult, not relying on a boyfriend or a roommate to help me.  I need to learn how to be alone and make my peace with it to the best of my ability.  Hopefully I can make this work sooner rather than later. 

I do wonder if Phoenix wasn't sick today because of the amount of anxiety I am giving off.  I know that animals are very sensitive to their owners feelings, and I was feeling completely nauseated last night before I forced myself to stop moving around and go to bed.  It hurts me more than I can describe to think that I might be the reason for his discomfort.  All I want for him is to be happy and healthy - which is why I never yell at him and I never, ever, ever hit him.  He gets mud and crap all over the duvet cover of my bed, he keeps me from a deep and restful sleep some nights because he's sprawled out across the bed - much as he is now:

and he is my reason for living, so I will continue to let him do pretty much as he pleases. 

Something I wanted to bring up, although I'm not entirely feeling this way at the moment, is that it is not normal to want to die.  It is not normal to think that dying is a viable solution for anything, but it creeps into my head on days like this, when I'm feeling as miserable as I'm feeling today.  This is how that I do indeed have major clinical depression.  I would like to think that I am over my suicidal tendencies.  I don't want to be the person responsible for my death, unless it comes at 70 from cirrhosis of the liver from drinking.  But I don't mind the possibility of dying in a car accident or in some other kind of accident that is not my fault.  Mostly, I take great care to follow speed limits and traffic laws (I even have stopped speeding.  I am tired of paying for the tickets.), but I sometimes wish I would be that unfortunate person to be killed in a head-on collision with a drunk driver.  The one reason I give myself for sticking around is only Phoenix.  I don't care how goofy it sounds, he is my child, and I would do absolutely anything for him.  I would step in front of a bear for him, or in front of a car, or run into a fire to get him out, I'd absolutely sacrifice myself for him.  I just want to be around to make sure that he's treated exactly how I want him to be treated, with love and compassion and unending kindness.  I hate that animals can't talk - it hurts me more to know an animal is in pain than a person, because a person can tell you where it hurts, or how much, or what is helping, while an animal cannot.  And so I will not take my own life because I have to live for him.

I feel very sorry for myself, much as I would feel for someone else if I found out that they harbored feelings like mine about themselves.  I sometimes actually feel physical pain in my chest when I realize that what I am feeling is really, deeply sad.  I wonder if other people feel that way, too.

*"CDC - National Center for Health Statistics Homepage." Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Web. 12 Oct. 2010. <http://www.cdc.gov/nchs/Default.htm>.  Accessed thru "Suicide Fact Sheets, Stats and Trends." American Association of Suicidology. Web. 12 Oct. 2010. <http://www.suicidology.org/web/guest/stats-and-tools/fact-sheets>.

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