Teresa recently posted a thought provoking treatise on a couple of subjects that run near and dear to my heart: http://kimchinotforme.blogspot.com/2005/10/o-to-c-to-d.html .
I really hope she doesn't mind my linking to her; she is always more than welcome to do the same should I ever have anything to say that would be worthy or of any importance. Anyway, the reason for this post is that I wanted to comment on her thoughts, but my comments started running a bit long and I ultimately decided I would find a forum that would enable me to blather on and on. What better forum than one's own blog to blather on and on? That being said.....
Teresa is smarter than I. Teresa is more practical than I. Teresa can handle things better than I. She said, in a recent e-mail, that I either handle things better than the rest of the family, or I hide things better than the rest of the family. I think I am walking a fine line in between the two, handling and hiding issues as they arise or require confrontation for some reason or another. I know that counseling would probably help me. I mean, a short list of the things that have gone on in my life: mom died, while I was pregnant; had a baby; stayed home with said baby; then got a job, leaving said baby with others; got pregnant again and then had a miscarraige; shortly after that I started working full time, leaving my baby with others for longer periods of time; my husband moved to another city; I and said baby moved in with in-laws. That's the short list. Yes, I'm fairly certain some form of counseling would be beneficial. However, there are two problems, the first of which is really nothing more than an excuse, however truthful: 1.) My insurance would not cover it. They don't cover anything, really, not check-ups, or even Jacelyn's shots, so I'm certain my mental health is way far down on their priority list. Oh, and 2.) I'm terrified of what I might find out. That I might be told I need to take pills for some reason or the other. That I might be told that I am bi-polar.
I live in fear of beind diagnosed as bi-polar, for a myriad of reasons. Mostly my daughter, and then myself and the other people who are affected by me and my behaviour. I question my mental health, all the time. If I have a mood swing, I wonder if it means I am bi-polar. If I have a particularly good day and am in a particularly good mood, I can ruin it in a heartbeat by wondering if my behaviour and/or mood would qualify as manic. Our childhood, while sometimes difficult and most definitely different, was not horrible; but it definitely wasn't easy. We endured things most people don't have to deal with until later in life: parenting your parent, and so on. There were idyllic, Norman Rockwell type moments mixed in as well. Singing Christmas carols in the car, for example, while we drove around looking at lights. Eating cinnamon rolls every Christmas morning. Biscuits on Sundays, where the three of us would rather shrivel up and dehydrate than get up and get more milk, knowing whomever got up was bound to have to provide refills for the rest of the family. Arguing, in a good natured way, about who got the piece of bologna with the Oscar Meyer imprint from the front of the package. Eating dinner on the good china, even if it was just meatloaf and macaroni. Making our hot wheels date each other. Teresa's eavesdropping hole-in-the-closet-wall. Well, that's not exactly Norman Rockwell, but it's funny as hell. Splitting a bag of Doritos, three ways, Jen always getting the bag. Eating at Po Folks on Navy Boulevard on Sundays, before it became a pawn shop. Girl scout mettings. Slush Puppies. Puppet shows at church. That one Easter play where we were cast as Russian children and the only direction we received was to "look drab. Maybe wear gray, or something". Pretending to huff Lysol in the ladies bathroom at church on Sundays, merely to horrify Teresa. Swimming at Mr. Harry's house. You know, the longer this list gets, the more I realize maybe things weren't always as bad as they seem. There were bad moments, and maybe those stick out more, but there were good moments, too. Wow, I've learned something here today. Maybe I just need to reflect and focus on the good, when the bad seems to be looming.
I think I might experience the lows of occasional depression, but my circumstances and surroundings aren't exactly stress-free at the moment. I, too, know that I am not normal; as I said in a previous post, I'm not crazy, but I know I ain't right. But I'm doing the best I can to get by. Therapy I would consider, once I can afford it, or once it becomes a neccessity, or court ordered, or something. I don't think I am interested in medication. Residual effects from our mother's pill fetish linger in my mind. Maybe I'm doing ok. Considering all that's going on in my life, I'm getting by alright. Could I be happier? Certainly. Could things be worse? Most definitely. So for now, I will continue as I have been. I will keep my options open - there may come a time that I find myself unable to cope with whatever is going on, and when that time comes I will be open to counseling, or to medication. I'm not going to say never, I'm just going to say not now.
That being said, everyone has to find what works for them, and I am very, very glad that Teresa has found hers. I wish my dear little sister nothing but the best, in every part of life, and if she can and/or has found happiness, then my heart sings for her. Here's to you, Teresa, with your below-the-belt stinging kidney punches, your booger-encrusted purple coats, and your infinite wisdom. Thanks, for always listening, and talking, and just being an enjoyable person to know and love. The very best of health, both mental and physical, I wish for you. Life, love, and laughter in all its' forms. I raise my glass to you, little sister, (I will try to refrain from shouting, "EDWARD!" as I do it) and your bravery, your wit and your wisdom. Don't ever stop being the marvelous you that you are. Unless I tell you to chill out, which means you're being cranky, because you do get like that sometimes and you know I'm not lying. I love you.
I really hope she doesn't mind my linking to her; she is always more than welcome to do the same should I ever have anything to say that would be worthy or of any importance. Anyway, the reason for this post is that I wanted to comment on her thoughts, but my comments started running a bit long and I ultimately decided I would find a forum that would enable me to blather on and on. What better forum than one's own blog to blather on and on? That being said.....
Teresa is smarter than I. Teresa is more practical than I. Teresa can handle things better than I. She said, in a recent e-mail, that I either handle things better than the rest of the family, or I hide things better than the rest of the family. I think I am walking a fine line in between the two, handling and hiding issues as they arise or require confrontation for some reason or another. I know that counseling would probably help me. I mean, a short list of the things that have gone on in my life: mom died, while I was pregnant; had a baby; stayed home with said baby; then got a job, leaving said baby with others; got pregnant again and then had a miscarraige; shortly after that I started working full time, leaving my baby with others for longer periods of time; my husband moved to another city; I and said baby moved in with in-laws. That's the short list. Yes, I'm fairly certain some form of counseling would be beneficial. However, there are two problems, the first of which is really nothing more than an excuse, however truthful: 1.) My insurance would not cover it. They don't cover anything, really, not check-ups, or even Jacelyn's shots, so I'm certain my mental health is way far down on their priority list. Oh, and 2.) I'm terrified of what I might find out. That I might be told I need to take pills for some reason or the other. That I might be told that I am bi-polar.
I live in fear of beind diagnosed as bi-polar, for a myriad of reasons. Mostly my daughter, and then myself and the other people who are affected by me and my behaviour. I question my mental health, all the time. If I have a mood swing, I wonder if it means I am bi-polar. If I have a particularly good day and am in a particularly good mood, I can ruin it in a heartbeat by wondering if my behaviour and/or mood would qualify as manic. Our childhood, while sometimes difficult and most definitely different, was not horrible; but it definitely wasn't easy. We endured things most people don't have to deal with until later in life: parenting your parent, and so on. There were idyllic, Norman Rockwell type moments mixed in as well. Singing Christmas carols in the car, for example, while we drove around looking at lights. Eating cinnamon rolls every Christmas morning. Biscuits on Sundays, where the three of us would rather shrivel up and dehydrate than get up and get more milk, knowing whomever got up was bound to have to provide refills for the rest of the family. Arguing, in a good natured way, about who got the piece of bologna with the Oscar Meyer imprint from the front of the package. Eating dinner on the good china, even if it was just meatloaf and macaroni. Making our hot wheels date each other. Teresa's eavesdropping hole-in-the-closet-wall. Well, that's not exactly Norman Rockwell, but it's funny as hell. Splitting a bag of Doritos, three ways, Jen always getting the bag. Eating at Po Folks on Navy Boulevard on Sundays, before it became a pawn shop. Girl scout mettings. Slush Puppies. Puppet shows at church. That one Easter play where we were cast as Russian children and the only direction we received was to "look drab. Maybe wear gray, or something". Pretending to huff Lysol in the ladies bathroom at church on Sundays, merely to horrify Teresa. Swimming at Mr. Harry's house. You know, the longer this list gets, the more I realize maybe things weren't always as bad as they seem. There were bad moments, and maybe those stick out more, but there were good moments, too. Wow, I've learned something here today. Maybe I just need to reflect and focus on the good, when the bad seems to be looming.
I think I might experience the lows of occasional depression, but my circumstances and surroundings aren't exactly stress-free at the moment. I, too, know that I am not normal; as I said in a previous post, I'm not crazy, but I know I ain't right. But I'm doing the best I can to get by. Therapy I would consider, once I can afford it, or once it becomes a neccessity, or court ordered, or something. I don't think I am interested in medication. Residual effects from our mother's pill fetish linger in my mind. Maybe I'm doing ok. Considering all that's going on in my life, I'm getting by alright. Could I be happier? Certainly. Could things be worse? Most definitely. So for now, I will continue as I have been. I will keep my options open - there may come a time that I find myself unable to cope with whatever is going on, and when that time comes I will be open to counseling, or to medication. I'm not going to say never, I'm just going to say not now.
That being said, everyone has to find what works for them, and I am very, very glad that Teresa has found hers. I wish my dear little sister nothing but the best, in every part of life, and if she can and/or has found happiness, then my heart sings for her. Here's to you, Teresa, with your below-the-belt stinging kidney punches, your booger-encrusted purple coats, and your infinite wisdom. Thanks, for always listening, and talking, and just being an enjoyable person to know and love. The very best of health, both mental and physical, I wish for you. Life, love, and laughter in all its' forms. I raise my glass to you, little sister, (I will try to refrain from shouting, "EDWARD!" as I do it) and your bravery, your wit and your wisdom. Don't ever stop being the marvelous you that you are. Unless I tell you to chill out, which means you're being cranky, because you do get like that sometimes and you know I'm not lying. I love you.