I have *distemper. I am disturbed and depressed. My humors are most definitely not balanced.
If I can write about it, there must be an upswing in the works. Plus, it’s a good sign that I haven’t sat unblinking in front of the wall today.
Utterly, crushingly sad for no reason at all, I stare and see nothing. Wander in and out of stores, finding little, buying nothing. I’m here… yet not. It’s no way to live. And now is not the time. I don’t want to do this at Christmas.
I tend to curse more when depressed. The social filters fall away, giving me yet another reason to avoid people lest social situations turn into bloody mine fields. Things turned ugly today after the 10th person told me ‘Happy Holidays’. I finally demanded ‘What holiday?’ ‘Which holiday?’ like a newly released mental patient.
But the phrase is now so ingrained in the well meaning that their feelings are hurt if you question it. Let’s be all-inclusive. We’ll leave no one out, so there will be no hurt feelings, ever again. [She snarled] ‘Holidays’ cover Christmas, Hanukkah, Ramadan, Kwanzaa and of course, Festivus.
There’s one more gift to wrap, but it’s painful to admit that I become angry and resentful over something that should be a happy tradition.
Truthfully, my brain feels as if it’s rotted out and all that remains is the empty skull full of mush that used to be me.
Anger probably started this. And fear. Worry… well, that’s fear applied personally. What’s funny is that I can never anticipate the slide in, but can usually recognize the fight to come back out.
My SIL is preaching the curative powers of a Christmas tree, though the house remains, as ever, a sterile environment – if you don’t count the dog hair. It’s 86 degrees. As if that means something. YsD and her boyfriend will come here and find nothing and though shameful, it fails to move my empty skull… or equally empty heart.
I thought if I ignored it Christmas would go away. And for me, it sort of did.
Not the desired effect, but you can’t always get what you want. Sometimes, according to Mick, you just get what you need.
This is sickeningly self indulgent and really too much information to share… but I have to write. Besides… soon, there will be joy again. I can’t wait. That would be the best Christmas gift.
*The origin of the word distemper is from the Middle English distemperen, meaning to upset the balance of the humors, which is from the Old French destemprer, meaning to disturb, which is from the Vulgar Latin distemperare: Latin dis- and Latin temperare, meaning to not mix properly.
I have those days too. Sometimes several days in a row.
Trying to get into something of a Christmas spirit, but it’s hard right now. Hope things will get better for you.
Thanks, y’all.
Aw, hon, I’m so praying for a quick rebound. Rest. Just rest. As you’ve wisely guessed, you’re already on the way out.
The voice of experience? Thanks so much, Joan.
I’m in a mental place where the whole Christmas thing just wears me down, mentally and physically and quite honestly, all I can see of it, brightspottedly, is that we’re closed at work and I have a for sure day off. I’m basically whining like this to tell you I know what you mean.
And if my hug helps, take it and welcome.
Yes, it helps to know that I’m not alone, LeeAnn.
I have the cure for this. Start with pouring yourself a stiff drink and down it. Now sit down and close your eyes.
Imagine that jug eared pencil neck and his wife coming down the stairs to greet the guest at one of their too frequent White House parties, getting about half-way down those fancy stairs and tripping, going ass over teakettle all the way to the bottom.
Keep imagining, they go to the hospital to be put into casts for their multiple broken bones and it’s discovered that they were on hard drugs, that’s why they fell. Hilarity ensues and the Office of the President is paralyzed until Jan, 2013.
Now, feel a tiny bit better?
Thanks, Peter!
I hate to say it, Pam, but I do admit that knowing I’m not alone this season is of at least some small comfort. But if you were concerned about writing something too deep or personal in such a public forum, let me take that ball from you and run with it a spell:
As of this last weekend, my family has finally had enough of me, and I can’t honestly say I blame them. I stay mad all the time lately, and get angrier still when things go sideways. This “holiday” season has been utterly horrid. I lost my only sounding board when my bmom died, and now I’m booted out of the house after a blow-up (my pressure relief system fail-safes are terribly out of compliance). I’m staying at my late mother’s house – which has been standing almost undisturbed since she passed away almost 18 months ago. Her ashes are there – on the chest of drawers overlooking the spot where she passed away – making it undeniably a ‘tomb’.
Every holiday we had gathered at her house – she put the joy (and the good food!) in every celebration. Now as I sit on her couch, staring at her paintings, surrounded by death, I can’t help but wonder… Why?
Not seeing an answer isn’t helping one fat frikkin’ bit. I’m flat out pissed at God right now… I’m talking fighting mad. Sadness and self pity join the party too, but I stay pretty much steaming pissed at Him. Mrs. Who can’t seem to understand why I simply can not walk into church, and takes it as an affront to her for “not sharing our faith together anymore.”
Fuck.
It’s not just about MamaBear’s death. Most everybody can understand or relate to losing a mother. Even I know; I lost my Mom – the woman who raised me – several years before. What I can’t convey is the bond that I had with MamaBear – my birthmother – after I found her. The relationship we had was… transcendent. (Okay, even I know that sounds freakishly weird, and I’m not making excuses other than to say I have difficulty finding the words to describe.)
When we found each other, there was no doubt in our minds or hearts that God was moving in our lives. There was purpose – there was a reason we were coming together as we did, and events well beyond our control just happened to bring us together. We became inseparable – and discovered that whether by design or coincidence, our lives prior to being reunited had followed similar ups and downs, as if our fates had been linked all along. We could feel each other – would instinctively reach for the phone just as the other would call, and would know unfailingly what mood to expect the other to be experiencing, ’cause we were already there. Then as dramatically as it all started, it was quite abruptly finished.
Now God is gone from my life, MamaBear is dead, and in a very real way, so am I.*
This time of year has always been difficult for me for a multitude of reasons. It was for her as well. She was the only one who could lift me up, knew where all the buttons were and which was the right order. In so many ways, MamaBear was another me. It was like having a magic mirror, one that instead of reflecting light and shadow, reflected all the inner workings of emotion, ego, motivation, will… It was all there.
But she differed in that she was also naturally buoyant. Whether by nature or experience, she had the amazing skill/talent of energizing and bringing joy to people even when she was down. Hell, for almost three years, only a handful of people knew she had terminal cancer. Even amid her worst bouts with chemotherapy, she still looked beautiful and acted like she was as healthy as can be. I can’t even imagine such feats. By contrast, my skills were steeply invested in armoring myself against the brutal assaults of an alcoholic adoptive father who resented and feared me – patterns that I now fear I am perpetuating with my own youngest son.
Ugh, it’s clear I’ve run far enough with this ball. I think I’ve left the field, the stadium, and probably the parking lot!
I was given a short reprieve today… I’m liberated from my tomb for a night – having to be out of town on emergency assignment – so I’m sitting in a hotel room with my laptop. But I do dread going back. Home is out of the question. I fear I’ve thrown a tree on the camel’s back when a mere straw would have spelled doom. It’s clear Mrs. Who and my family breathe easier in my absence.
But where does that leave me? I haven’t a clue. Suffice it to say, Christmas is pretty much in the gutter for me and the battered Whoville residents this year.
‘Happy Holidays’ my ass!
*Ugh! :shock:
I wrote this almost straight through, and I have to admit it sounds pretty grim and possibly even self destructive. Realize that in all ways relevant I am a coward, and/or something either within or without won’t let me do anything TOO stupid. However, I will say with complete honesty, that for the most part of late, I do wish I could get off this effing pukefest spinning ball ride. I wish it was just OVER. And with that said, if a city-sized meteor were to fall from the sky, I have no doubt I would look up and say something like, “well it’s about frikkin’ time!”, or even just, “Hunh. So that’s it, then.”
What I can’t/won’t do, however, is anything proactive to speed the process along. I would say I’m pretty safe in that statement, because (in my best Karl Childers voice) I reckon I studied on it a great deal. I could frighten/sicken those reading by airing my laundry list of ways and reasons why each is impossible, but I’ll save time by giving the only method I have NOT ruled out: lightning.
If I’ve pissed of God – let Him do the dirty work! If my woeful meanderings somehow amuse Him (or the Enemy), then I won’t give either of them the damned satisfaction!
Hey, where’d everyone go? :tinfoil:
(And if any of this makes you too uncomfortable Pam, please feel free to hit delete – you won’t hurt my feelings or injure me in any way. It felt good getting it out somewhere. I would have posted it on FnH, but I’ve been talking to myself too much lately, and I’ve learned I’m not always a very good listener.)
i have things to say but now is not the time and i don’t want to take over pam’s place or sound trite by being too brief.
but after reading both you and mrs who for a year now i know one thing – you love your family and they love you.
i’m also betting both of your moms wouldn’t want you to be so lost without them and would want you to remember the warmth and love they shared with you – and would want you to carry that warmth and love with you beyond their passing.
Patti said it best, BR.
I come from a similar place in that I was adopted. So I envy you finding your birth Mom and having even a short time here with her. Actually, strike that. Now that you know her, she is still with you; your bond is eternal. You felt that in your relationship; that ancient, infinite link.
I always thought that finding my bmom would be like that.
She is not lost to you. Not now, not ever. I know we aren’t supposed to try ‘contacting’ the souls who have gone on before us… but I talk to my Mom and Dad. And to my husband’s ex-wife, which is a little freaky, I admit. But the kids!
I feel that those who have passed are praying for us… and the bond is not broken after all. There’s still the feeling of loss, but they’re not totally gone.
Neither is your MamaBear.
God’s a big guy; he can take your anger, maybe even use it somehow. I long ago gave up wondering what He was up to… some things seem arbitrary or capricious but the truth is known only to Him.
All I can do is give you a virtual hug and pray that everything will work out, for you and for your family. If you haven’t in a while, I would recommend saying a rosary. Our Heavenly Mother is a great comfort and gracious advocate in times of need and stress.
xxoo
She’s not lost if and only if an afterlife is guaranteed, and that works only if you have faith. Right now, I’m not feeling it. Right now, in fact, I’m doubting it all. Mom and I talked a little before she died about what it might be like – would I feel her the same way or different after she’s gone? Turns out, it was like someone shutting off the light – cold and dark. Nothing. A dark chasm. And it’s scary.
Maybe I’m just crazy, I dunno. :tinfoil:
I’ve tried praying. MamaBear painted the most amazing portrait of Mother Theresa – she’s on the wall in the center of the house, watching me all the time. Mom talked to her, so I talk to her. I’ve tried talking to saints, angels, my other deceased parents, anyone. Nothing. I’ve tried the rosary, and it was like dragging a load of bricks uphill – I wanted to tear it apart. I guess that’s indicative of something, but I’m not sure what.
I’m sure I’ll get through it someday, somehow. Meanwhile, I am getting rather used to living in a quiet house where nobody undoes my cleaning and straightening. Being (diagnosed) OCD, that’s long been one of my sources of anxiety/anger.
Thanks for allowing me to vent here, and thanks also for the encouragement and virtual hugs.
I can only offer virtual hugs to you, Pam, and to you, BR. And to Mrs. Who, for that matter.
I’ll keep my poison to myself.
and I’ll try to stop hating Christmas.
Aw, hell, WB. We’re releasing our demons into the wild and hoping they choke… can yours be any worse than ours?
Thanks for the hugs… here are some back!
Frankly, I think you can hate Christmas if you want. It’s your life, after all.
Wow…
Wasn’t going to post… Almost clicked the back button…
But Ms. Pam, you are way too important to me and BR, you said something that resonated, so here goes…
I understand, as well as anyone not living in your drawers can understand, the issues… Christmas is a tough time for me also, for reasons we don’t need to hear about right now…
Ms. Pam, I’m not going to offer you any platitudes ’cause most of the time platitudes just suck… But what helps for me, at least sometimes, is happy music… Things like The Beach Boys… Nitty Gritty Dirt Band… No special message, no underlying lessons, just perky music sometimes helps lift my spirits at least a little… Another thing I try to do is lose myself in the joy of others… Find a childrens Christmas program at a nearby church or school and just luxuriate in the joy on those innocent faces… You[re in my prayers Lady…
BR, what resonates is “Now God is gone from my life”… Just ain’t so brother… You may have turned your back on Him in your sorrow but He is not gone… He’s right there behind you suffering with you because He loves your… Always has and always will… And when you turn back to Him He’ll be there with open arms… And you’ll be in my prayers too..
davek
PS… Mrs. Who?… Stay strong Lady and leave your trust in Him… Special prayers to you…
You’re a blessing, Dave! Thanks so much!
Gotta get in another 2 cents worth.
Been mad – no, freakin angry – at God a time or two myself, in fact right now I’d say we are in truce mode and have been for years now.
Here is what I have come to believe. God understands that we get mad at him – and is OK with that.
Why do I believe this? Well, if you believe we are his children – and I do – then he is like a Daddy on steroids right (no thunder heads in the area at the moment…) and as parents we know that sometimes our kids get mad at us – often we even understand why they are mad, even angry – but it doesn’t lesson one iota the love we have for them. In fact, I’m betting this particular issue of parent love, child anger is part of your present depression – and you love them so much it hurts and because there isn’t much you can do about their pain and anger you are angry at God (this, I understand being only part of your anger) And when, in the fullness of time – they come to terms with life, you will still love them so much it hurts. How much greater then is the understanding and love of God.
So be angry – take the time it takes to work it through – He isn’t going anywhere.
That is good advice! :thumbs:
Thanks, Patti. I guess it couldn’t hurt to ask you to put in a good word for me when you talk to Him next?
Phew. All the good stuff has been said. Still, I care about you as I have gotten to know you over the years. If you need to come up and visit, please do so. You haven’t been here but it’s not really that far away. Come stay a day or overnight. If you lost my number, let me know. Hugs.
That’s the sweetest thing, VW. Thank you.
Bitterroot, I’ve been there with anger. I tended to internalize it which led to a bout with shingles. My doctor prescribed Prozac and it has been life changing for me. It just takes the edge off and let me feel hope where I’d been blinded before. I did not realize how depressed I’d been until I found myself laughing out loud at a TV show. Weird to discover how long it had been since I’d laughed. I’m much happier now.
I’ve tried Prozac. And Norpramin. And Wellbutrin. And Luvox. And about a dozen other drugs, alone and in combinations… I usually have to take them in juvenile doses because I react so severely to medications, usually picking up the weirdest side effects (I deliberately do NOT research a new drug, fearing my reactions may be psychosomatic). The one listed side effect I missed out on was the “Viagra-like bonus effect” on one of them. :???:
One of the worst combinations was Luvox (OCD and depression) and Valium (for periodic anxiety). Turns out, Valium – like alcohol – removes inhibitions. Being already in a Christmas funk and angry over the incessant conflicts and bickering over use of the TV for gaming and programs, I killed it. With an axe.
Come to think of it, that was three years ago, almost to the day.
I’m convinced, C-H-R-I-S-T-M-A-S spells doom. I wonder if that means Judaism is for me?
I’d ask who pissed in your corn flakes, but I understand this all too well and know it’s not a matter of one incident or simply the season that brings this on. It’s something deeper.
I would give you a great big hug if I could…not to mention a yummy hot toddy over which we could commiserate. Since we can only do that virtually, I will repeat unto myself that at least I’m alive and warm and fed and that all else is trivial. It will fail to stir me as it does every year, until…at some point…it does and then I’ll be right with the world again.
My prayer is that you have your gubmuh hab moment as well (that’s the reversal of the bah humbug thing, but you knew that).
Thank you, Joanie. I’ve crawled into the sunlight and I am waiting patiently for my gubmuh hab moment. Hope you find yours soon… or will it fly in soon?
God is not gone from anyone’s life, no matter what. We often are unable to see Him through the clouds of anger and pride. Just as I am unable to see the Pugs in the other room does not mean they are gone from my life, so we sometimes put up our own walls. Thing is, just because I cannot see Him does not mean that He cannot see me, He can.
Oh, Bitterroot, now more than ever is the time for prayer. If I can get my life and family back from alcoholism so you can get your life and family back from whatever demons chase you. Prayer works and you are in the perfect place for it, a home of someone you love, alone.
I do not claim to be anything special, anything I’ve ever done was with plenty of help. And there is plenty of help out there, my friend. My claim is not that I am strong, it is that I am weak, and I have proven myself so. So, my friend, if I can overcome my woes and become happy, joyous and free, so can you. The sooner you start, the sooner you’ll see results. And see them you will, that is a promise.
That’s very powerful, Peter.
Thanks, Peter… But as I mentioned above, I’ve been trying with rather poor (if not adverse) results so far. Being alone in a house for hours on end with no internet or television leaves one with little else. Evidently I’m the only one to hear me, and sometimes I suspect that even I’m not listening anymore.
The problem I’m having is that I have known that feeling – I’ve been joyous and “high on God” before, but even the tiniest fragment of that feeling, the simple feeling of Presence is just not anywhere in sight. I have been quite regularly blessed in the past by such feeling in His Presence in the Holy Eucharist, at Mass or in Adoration. At times, and fairly regularly at that, I have had the sensation of “breathing ether” during the Eucharistic prayers, most specifically at the Epiclesis. It’s something that’s purely personal and unverifiable, yet very real to me. The few times I have attended Mass since, there is nothing there. No feeling, no presence, no “gift” in the Eucharist. It’s just not there for me.
At first, when MamaBear died and the lights went out, I flailed around in the dark grasping at anything and found nothing. My panic was real – as if drowning. It’s as if I’m being told to sink or swim, but whatever I do, I’m to do it alone.
I’m not angry at God necessarily because my MamaBear died – I had every expectation that I would eventually be with her again, that I would somehow feel something to know she was still there. I’m angry at the nothingness, the total and complete disconnect. It’s hard to describe the intangible feeling I had with her, but it was real. I fully expected some kind of transformation, evolution or change. What I got was a deep emptiness, a long, dark, cold and desolate void.
Now I’m left wondering – seriously considering if the joy, the sensations I felt weren’t somehow delusional… A bio-chemical antithesis of depression, experienced only as a neuro-psychological condition. Maybe God is/was only in my mind – an endorphin rush. Maybe we humans are wired that way. And as odd as it seems, one of the things that keeps me breathing is that fear, that there is no “safety net” of an afterlife with God.
So too, maybe THAT is the reason for the silence – to keep me from wanting to step off the precipice of human terrestrial existence to seek that connection. Maybe my spiritual isolation is a tempering process – my 40 days in the desert.*
I just don’t know.
*But if it is, I want to know why I wasn’t asked to go willingly or at least warned instead of the forcible equivalent of being drugged and left to wake up naked and handcuffed to a park bench!
Shit…everyone needs hugs. And I feel like my arms are broken.
For you, Mrs. Who:
Take care of yourself!
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I don’t know how I missed this post on Monday.
Life sucks, it sucks so much it’s leaving bruses. But in the small recesses of my mind, even though I can’t grasp onto it just yet and really I haven’t been able to grasp onto it for a year and half now but I know way back there the way out is there.
Because of that we keep fighting through, even when times are desperate and seem hopeless we all keep fighting through because we want to find the way out.
I have gone through a lot of “I must be a horrible person to have all these bad things happen to me” lately and that hole keeps getting deeper but I am desperately clinging to the concept that there is a way out.
Just keep clinging, eventually there will be a way out.
And I figure with all the shit I have been going through the good karmic payback I will be getting will be worth it
Good way to put it! Sometimes all we can do is cling on til things get better!
I do blame current events for at least half my depression. The news is all bad and there’s so much of it!
But we’ll cling til we’re shook off, eh?
Wow. Not sure if I would be better off keeping my trap shut, but BR sounds like he’s at a point that I was just a few short months ago. Wish I could offer some helpful words, but I too know how hard it is when too many things are happening at once and their are too many frustrations that are bubbling beneath the surface unresolved, for fear that they may turn into a belching volcano that won’t stop. Hang in there dude, and hope you can find your way out of the dark into the light and the rest of your family again.