Monday, December 8, 2008

She Loves Me, But She Sure Has a Funny Way of Showing It

It is 3:18pm and I am finally awake. I missed work again. I feel like I ran the Boston Marathon when instead I've had a marathon of sleep and still can't wake up.

Let me reiterate; I missed work.....again.

I had every intention of going in today. I am such a complete loser for not going in. I set the alarm last night. I woke up at 6:30am to make sure my daughter woke up. From there everything becomes fuzzy because I literally do not remember walking out of her room to my bed and falling asleep again. All that I remember is waking up at 8:30am realizing that it was late because the sun was so bright in the room. I then contacted work and told them that I am still not feeling well and will be in the office tomorrow. Why they should believe that I'll be there, I have no idea. I don't believe it myself.

My Mom called today. She's been calling all weekend and I never answered. When I get like this it is difficult to talk and act like everything is fine. She realizes when I don't call back that I'm going through another episode, as I call it, and she gets worried. Finally, today I answered the phone and we spoke.

My mother knows that I have depression. She knows that I was in the hospital a little more than two years ago. I remember the day before I was going into the psychiatric ward she and Daddy were going on vacation to the beach. She knew that I was being admitted and she asked on the phone whether she should go on vacation or not. Of course I didn't want her to feel bad about going on vacation, and my word, if she has to ask me, I would rather her go anyway. Let me say this one more time, though: I was being admitted to a psychiatric hospital and she asks if it's OK with me that she goes to the beach? By all means, Momma, go to the beach! Just because your only child wants to end her life because she has depression so overpowering that she can't see straight, don't let it get in the way of you having fun on your beach vacation!

Don't get me wrong. My mother is very sweet and nice. Everyone loves her. She is a very elegant woman in her own way and I know that she loves me. It's just at times she has a funny way of showing it and it hurts. She would rather come to your house the morning that she is going to the beach right before you are driven to the hospital by your husband because you can't drive yourself, give you a hug and press a check into your hand so that she feels absolved of any guilt because she gave you money. I dutifully told her to have fun and not worry about me. She actually went to the beach. I hope that she had fun and it was worth it. Oh wait a minute; she gave me money to help out with the bills while I was in the cuckoo's nest. OK, I guess it was worth it to her.

She was at the beach for one week. I was in the hospital over six weeks. She never came to visit, but she did call. She doesn't live in another state. She lives about 20 minutes away.

After getting out of the hospital, I tried really hard to be honest about my feelings and tell people when I felt the maw of depression tickling my neck but when I did that my husband and parents freaked out. I realized I couldn't tell them because they all automatically thought I would go back to the hospital. I even remember there were times that my depression was manageable and I was OK, but maybe I would have had a bad day, like anyone else in the world, it happens, and my mother would get this frightened voice and ask, "Are you doing OK? Are you getting sick again? Do you think you should go back to the hospital?" I would say, "I'm just having a bad day. It happens to people without depression! I am fine, don't worry!" After a while I just started acting like I felt great no matter how I truly felt. I don't know who wouldn't do the same.

Today on the phone with Momma, she asked how I was doing and if I was going through an episode. She said that she had called all weekend and was worried. I told her that I'm having an episode again, but that it would get better as it does. Since I have one child who is the love of my life, I now ask myself this question: If that were my daughter, would I say after the fact that I'd been calling all weekend because I was worried or would I have gotten in my car and driven to her house? Most definitely the latter. In fact, I would have gone to her house, made food for her and her family, cleaned up, washed clothes and done whatever she needed.

Momma asked if I needed anything or if she could do anything. I told her no. I feel bad to ask for anything, and I know that she wouldn't feel comfortable anyway, so it's just easier to say no. She must know that I hate to ask, and anyway, if she wanted to do anything, why didn't she drive to my house to see me since she was so worried?

I realize that I sound very passive-aggressive right now and I certainly don't mean to be. I just don't know what else to say about all of this.

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