I Google How to stop being self-absorbed. I read parenting books, listen to CDs of Zen guru's calm suggestions to be gentle with myself & stop thinking. I talk to myself. I say 'that is an irrational and self-absorbed thought,' I put my energies into doing for others in an effort keep busy enough to breath outside of my head. I work on my house. I work two jobs. I take my meds... I try to put to practice what is preached, but it seems I've a wiring malfunction in the transmitters that move the information from my head to my heart and somewhere between the knowing, or the letting go of knowing gridlocks forcing the negative nerons to back up into my neck and shoulders.
If I hear the phrase, Life a journey, one more time I may very well resort to primal scream therapy. Like I haven't already given that a go.
I am in the living in this very moment, Damnit!
Problem is, my moments are bi-polar; ginormous Polar bear moments that look sweet and cuddly, but damn if they don't have mauling skills. I've about yin yanged my way to oblivion at this point.
Cases, Points and Frightening Facts
In the moment only one of my boys lives with me, he is sweet and lazy, funny and failing classes and loving me with all his heart. His twin lives with his father and has taken on his narcissistic manner of manipulation and deceit, turning the knives into every soft spot until he wants something from me, at which point he turns on the sweet. I talk to him everyday, see him coming and going as often, but it's the worst pain to see him smirk when he knows he's touched a nerve or managed a master plan.
The ex. Is the captain of that smirk. I still pay for all of both boys needs, I schedule appointments, Pay for the orthodontist, the doctor, and the school fees, buy the clothing, haircuts, arrange for this and that of the daily do, and he feeds the boy once a day. But....It's the best he can do. He smiles a sad smile and mouths that he's so sorry that the boy won't come to Thanksgiving dinner with me, but he won't tell him he must do what we agreed upon; which is the same as giving him an allowance for asshole points.
I just called my son an asshole. I love him more than breath, but he is behaving like an asshole. Truth ain't pretty, It's yin yang, seeing what's real, calling like it is.
So, I've been getting out, trying to reconnect, and having some fun. Well, but then...there is last Friday:
I went to CD release party; it was beautiful music, a lovely atmosphere. I brought one of my sisters along and introduced her to sweet friends, I mingled, smiled and felt happy. The Man I'm no longer dating, but hanging out with and ... well he showed up and we all were having a great time. After The Man left I decided it was time to wait in line to use the powder room. I'd been drinking a bit, one glass of wine more than usual, but not crazy stumbling drunk amounts. I don't like to feel that way. The wait in line for the powder room seemed to take a long time and then I ran into more friends with whom I engaged in cautious conversation to hide my tipsy. By the time I made my way back to where my sister and I were sitting she was gone with my jacket, money, ID and phone. I sat and looked and waited for her until panic set in, I became dizzy, and my eyesight started to grow fuzzy around the edges. I couldn't think straight. I decided that she must have decided that I left with The Man and so she left. It wasn't rational, but I wasn't able to think. The thought of her thinking I abandoned her and the odd wooziness sent me running out of the building. The Man lives a few blocks from the venue, so I walked/ran in a cold drizzle to his apartment with the thought that he would help me find her. I guess I was too embarrassed to ask anyone at the party. The truth is I wasn't able to think in a logical manner, and I was very aware of a scary state of consciousness. I felt feverish, my head was pounding; I felt faint.
By the time I made it to the vestibule of The Man's apartment building I could no longer see beyond a blur, I couldn't remember his Apartment number and I couldn't read the numbers on the intercom. The last thing I remember before police officers showed up was apologizing through racking sobs and a shower of tears to someone for buzzing the wrong number.
I never saw anything but the officer's feet. I was curled up in a ball in a corner of the vestibule. The officer’s voice was kind and concerned, she had me get into the backseat of a car and someone drove me home. I don't remember the ride;
I remember getting out at the walk in front of my house.
I remember falling hard on my hip and thinking I would have to crawl to the door.
I remember falling again inside the door where my sister wailed my name, she was panicked. I remember becoming violently ill.
I remember the humiliation, the shame. I still feel it.
What happened to me?
I've pieced a few things together. My sister moved to get a better view of the band and assumed I was talking to friends. She waited until the party was over and then panicked when she couldn’t find me, called The Man, who had gone home and fell fast asleep didn't hear the call. She drove to my house, called my youngest sister who raced over and they were there just before the police dropped me off in front of the house. They held my head, undressed, bathed me and put me to bed. They watched over me all night long and took shifts the next day. I was unable to move out of the bed for a day and a half.
I kept telling them how sorry I was, that I must have had too much to drink.
It was more than the drink. I haven't been able to eat much. I had been having hot flashes all day, but I felt unusually energetic and nervous. I have been taking Sudafed for sinus headaches, a diuretic for water retention, Lexapro for depression. I did some research online and called the doctor. Either the interaction of these drugs with the wine cause sodium depletion; which is like getting water drunk bringing on confusion, nausea, and black outs, or I had a bonafide nervous fucking breakdown.
I'm lucky that this didn't come to a terrible end.
The worst of all of it is causing my sisters and The Man worry and pain. The Man woke to a terrifying message from my sister which sent him bursting in panic to the house; he was sick with worry. My sister who was like Mama Bear at this point wouldn't tell him anything or let him see me.
I wasn't going to write about this. The shame of letting myself get into this situation is heavy.
I've been working so hard to get out of my head and the stress of what I let my life become have taken a toll.
It seems like the harder I try to keep it together the more I fall apart.
So again, I'm in the same place; this moment, trying to let go of that moment and embrace the things that are good.
In this moment I’m embracing what I have:
The love of both of my sons. Although E is trying so desperately to hate me,
I know he loves me.
The love of my sisters and my entire family.
The Man who is not dating me, but loves me in the only way he can.
my friends who miss me.
my Career and my students who teach me beyond explanation
my ability to carry the load, to keep waking everyday keeping the household afloat..
the music; the art of my imagination.
the beauty of the world outside my window.
the hope that is cocooned in my heart.
If this life must be coined a journey, let's be more accurate and call what it really is:
This life is an ordeal. This life is a treacherous, joyous, ever dramatic fucking ordeal.
1 year ago

