Crying...

[Clematis]

Thank you so much, Marty, ChinUp, and Kay! I really appreciate your warmth and support. No one had a perfect mother and the continuum goes from there to unbelievingly awful. I have had so many conversations with women--short ones, since it doesn't take long to get the gist--which I summed up with, "OMG-we had the same mother! We must be sisters-who knew!" This is invariably met with laughter, high-fives, and so on...relief at meeting a kindred spirit who has been down the same road. Even though we may have been isolated as children, as it turns out we had a lot of company-sometimes in the same house! 

Life does funny things as we go along. I did tons of therapy and have spent my adult life helping others, professionally, as a volunteer, and on a more spontaneous, casual basis to help others-survivors of scary childhoods, children still in scary childhoods, etc.. I think everyone's job in life is to make whatever corner of the world they find themselves in-to make that little corner a little brighter. I gained a tremendous amount of fortitude during that and I try to handle everything I face with integrity, strength and honesty. I often find myself in the position of saying or doing the one thing that everyone else is afraid to do or say. But I do it, regardless of what may happen, because it is what I feel is right, and I know that if I do it, I will be able to live with myself. It usually comes out ok, and overall I feel like I am doing pretty well, particularly coming from where I did.

And then it all falls apart and I feel totally lost. After successfully building my career and doing better and better, I was absolutely thrilled. I bought a condo in Sedona, had a great job, balked my dad out here, had family, company, enough money to not be terrified all the time, a great place to hike, ski, camp, play music, go boating, and time to paint and play music. What a life! And then my position was eliminated in 2009, when it was impossible to find any work anywhere. I've read that the more depressive episodes one has had, the more likely one is to have subsequent ones. And there I was, lying on the floor with my cello next to me, waiting to stop breathing. It didn't work...I kept breathing and getting up the next day to play music, paint, do a little work with my LCSW doing home health care, and spend time with my dad, who had carried me financially for a couple of years. One day I looked at a painting I had done and had the shocking thought, "I am not depressed anymore-there is no way anyone who was depressed could have possibly painted something of such pure jubilation.

I think part of my problem here is that I am in grief, and am overwhelmed at the prospect of going through my father's possessions, consolidating all of our stuff into my condo and moving back in there. I'm not sure why, but sometimes I can have a startling lack of insight into myself. I think that because I am crying a lot I am back in a depressive state, and because I have been so tired and sleeping a lot, it must be a vegetative depression. I also think, that many people in a depressive state, that it has always been this bad. I think that because a lot of family stuff has bee recently stirred up, that I am totally back at the beginning before I started any therapy. I think if I make a mistake at work or take a day off here and there, I'll lose all my contract work and never work again and will lose everything. I read this and think, "I sure think a lot of crazy stuff!" But grief is not depression; I know that because I read it. But I don't feel it. I feel like I'm lost and I've fallen off my path. But it may not be true. I just don't know. It's probably good that the school year is almost over and I'll have time to do what I need to do, sleep in, exercise, cook some healthy food, etc.. I should also make sure to find time to paint this summer because of its projective nature...whatever is going on in that dark mysterious pit of your unconscious comes out into the light of day...

Anyway, thank you all for listening and for your support and feedback. It's so helpful...

[ChinUp54]

Kayc - I was thinking exactly that this morning as my daughter helped me put out the trash as we both were leaving for work.  We've had some difficulty since she's moved back home, but lately we're really working together, helping each other out and our relationship is so much better.  My dad, during the last year of his life, had my daughter living with them to help out.  (I know - I didn't recommend that she live with my mother! Actually, I advised against it.) Dad would ask my daughter who is your role model and her answer was "her mom."   He told me that story every time he saw me that last year and you could see my mother cringe and glare at me each time she heard it.  I simply smiled.  Obviously that story brought him happiness.  Mother snuffs out anyone's light given the opportunity.  Her new husband has been a positive affect on her though. His family is very important to him and she wants that June Cleaver image. Interesting how her kids rarely visit them. Bless her heart is all I can say.  She generally means well, except when she doesn't.

[ChinUp54]

Clematis~You are where I was 3 months ago and a wise person suggested I focus on joy and asked me what brings me joy?  I drew a complete blank except for my horse. That question, in the past, would have been an easy answer, but not today.  I said, horses give me joy, so that's where I started and made sure I only did what I felt like doing.  Every day I spent time with my horse. One day we took selfies and she got into it moving her head around over one shoulder, then the other and tried to sniff the phone. I was laughing so hard by the time we were done I forgot all about my grief for a moment.  Then I ventured out to a new rescue to meet this amazing woman who started it and to meet her rescue horses.  I worked my tail off helping with chores and chatting with the other horse lovers who were there.  I had one of the best days I've had in a long time.  It's just getting better and better, slowly but surely.  So baby steps my friend. Cry because you need to and the same with sleeping, you need it.  But when you can, do something that makes your heart sing, like play your cello or paint.  Be easy on yourself - and this comes from another perfectionist who is way too hard on herself.   P.S. I've always wanted to send my mother a bill for all of the $$ I've spent on therapy!

[Clematis]

You are so right! A friend, Paula, told me that I should do four things every day that made me feel good. I nodded my head while thinking, "Huh? Four? Huh..." Like she was speaking Lithuanian or something. I had the picture that I should just do my work until the end of the school year and then put my nose to the grindstone of the big mess of combining my dad's house and mine, and show up when I was expected to. Ughh! Not too appealing, or even possible. But I'm starting to paint a little and I moved my electric stand light (for the music stand) so I could see well enough to play in the evening...

I haven't used the light yet since I've been working hard on two reports-the last two for the year. The second one is to be presented at a meeting this afternoon...maybe it will happen tonight!

[Clematis]

When my dad was alive (G-d, I hate saying that!), anyway we used to like to go listen to music-the music that was popular when he was growing up and young. I loved it too because I grew up with him listening to it and playing it. So we'd go to a restaurant where a guy played and sang those old songs and then we went on some cruises where there was a guy in one of the bars playing and singing those old songs. We'd sit up close where we had a good view and my dad would sit there and cry and cry and cry. You could see the musician getting a little nervous, and he'd come over and chat with us in between sets...he wanted to know if he was doing something wrong or if he should avoid certain songs. No, no, those were his favorites. So these musicians got to know him and what his favorites were, he'd always play those tunes, and we all just got used to it. The guy would sing, my dad would cry, we would eat or drink or whatever we were doing, and then give the guy a big tip on the way out. Now it's all over but it's kind of a cool memory. He never offered a word in the way of explanation to me about any of it. He just cried and it was ok.

[kayc]

You have some very special memories with your dad...