paracelsian ponderings

Facebook and blogs?

2008-07-20T16:29:00.000-07:00

I am really not sure this whole blog thing is for me...or facebook for that matter. As for the blog- I keep thinking "what is the point of this really?" and how is this supposed to be beneficial to me-besides the fact that I write shit down...get out my feelings, blah, blah blah. But if that is the case, I can just pick up a goddamn pen and write in my journal. As for the facebook thing- I have tried to "participate" but it feels like a popularity club or something and I hate that shit. I feel funny about it cause I just helped Philip sign up and now I am questioning whether it is a good thing, but this is just how I feel at the moment. maybe I will change my mind tomorrow, but maybe not. Sometimes I get so damn tired of the scene and feeling like I am not cool enough. The only person that I really enjoy on facebook is Cindy Benbow and that is because Cindy is real. She struggles with shit, she doesn't judge me and she likes to have fun-she plays scramble with me for god's sake. I guess I am just in a foul mood. Here's the rub: I am writing this on my blog-how stupid is that?

Sensitivity Sucks

2008-07-20T07:01:00.000-07:00

I wish I wasn't so sensitive.

walking in the woods

2008-07-19T12:10:00.000-07:00

First time in I don't know when I went for a hike...took the two old dogs. We were going to walk by the lake but they were chompin at the bit for some free roaming time so I opted for Guilford Wooods instead. No matter. It felt good to get off my ass and move. (I don't know who is in worse shape me or those poor dogs). I started smelling the air when I was walking and it made me remember all the hikes I used to go on when I lived out West. I don't know why I forget the peacefulness that I get when I do this. Not to mention that it tires me out which is good because then I don't think so much. Sometimes I think (get it think?) that I think too much. The stinkin thinkin they call it so aptly in alanon.

Ebbing and Flowing

2008-07-19T06:14:00.000-07:00

Thinking about what I need to do to get over this slump that I am in- don't really know-other than the usual things-going to meetings, counseling, etc. It is just frustrating because I am coming to the slow realization that I am probably going to be ebbing and flowing through these periods for the rest of my life. Or at least until I am too old to give a crap. I mean I knew that was the case on one level. I guess I am grappling with the idea that there isn't an end to it, no destination. For some reason Anne Sexton's poem keeps coming up in my head-"The Awful Rowing Towards God": "...this story ends with me still rowing." maybe what I should be saying instead of getting over the slump is moving through this slump, listening to what this slump has to say to me.

Art and Fear

2008-07-18T15:38:00.000-07:00

Reading this book my sister gave me for my birthday called "Art and Fear". It is really good for me to be reading this at this point and time in my life because I do feel like I have let fear keep me from pursuing my artistic interests on a consistent basis. I always feel like I am not good enough, that I have nothing new to say, that I will be viewed as silly etc. It is especially poignant that I am reading it right now because I am in a depression- a depression that was perhaps brought on by my daughter's illness, but whose roots lie much deeper and go much further back. As I was reading, I was listening to Pandora-this great website that opens up worlds of music. Anyway- I was listening to Karen Dalton, this obscure blues musician, and this led to a whole series of musicians, most of whom were not well-known and yet, as Philip said, they were all making incredible music. In the book, the author says the very struggles that can be our obstacles to working on our art can also be the strengths that we bring to our craft. I had never really thought about this. One thing I worry about is how my depression is manifesting itself- it seems to be the antithesis of creating anything. I am tired all the time, irritable, on the verge of tears most days. How can I move through what seems to be a stifling period in my life and tap into the wisdom that I can gleam from this book, from my alanon meetings, from my communion with those I love, from nurturing myself? Baby steps, I guess. Patience. Forgiveness. Tolerance.

2008-07-02T14:55:00.000-07:00

I am tired. I am tired and anxious. Just had a meeting yesterday with the group home manager and a bunch of others because they forgot to take my daughter to an important therapy appointment and then they lied about it. It is the dishonesty that gets to me. I work so hard to set up a good support system for her and then something like this happens and I just feel defeated and exasperated. It is difficult not being resentful and angry because it is never-ending work. Sometimes I can manage it all; other times I just want to throw up my hands and scream "I give up!" I know I can't give up and I won't-but right now I feel like I am running on empty. I have so little energy left to give to myself, to the others in my life who need me. I know I need to go to an alanon meeting soon just so I can keep my shit together. I just wish today was Thursday. All day long I have been thinking it was Thursday- I guess it was just some subconscious desire. We have been invited to a 4th of July party but I don't want to go. I feel so awkward when I go to those parties. I just don't feel connected to very many people these days. It is hard because Philip does feel connected and wants to go. It just seems we are on different pages at the moment. We need some time for the two of us. We haven't had that in a long time. Even when we went to the beach, we didn't have any time for just the two of us. Learning to balance the demands and needs of all the people in our lives is really hard to do sometimes.

Discharge # 3

2008-06-10T05:31:00.000-07:00

Got a call yesterday from Anna, the social worker at Umstead. She said they were planning to release S. this Wednesday. I am filled with anxiety. I know S. is as well. While I know that staying at the hospital is not the answer, I worry that the transition to a group home might be overwhelming for S. Now with the problems she seems to be having with eating, I fear that she will suffer a setback. yet, what can I do-except hope that this is not going to happen and try to trust that she can do this. I wish we were not leaving for the coast so soon after she moves to the group home. It worries me to be so far away during that first week. What if she needs me? What if she has a crisis? I am trying to change my relationship with S. Trying not to be such a "mom" and, instead, to respect her as an autonomous person. When she refuses to take her new meds, I have to stop myself from freaking out and try to just listen and offer advice only if she solicits it. I find that I am more helpful to her if I can just provide her with the support she needs-doctors, nutritionist, therapists, school support rather than nagging her when I think she is making poor choices. But it is hard. When your child is making mistakes, you want to go in and rescue them, fix everything so that she is safe-but that is impossible. Maybe when she is a small baby, but once she becomes a teenager, you have to learn to back off and find that oh-so-fragile-balance between taking care of her and letting her figure things out for herself. I used to think that being a mom of a toddler was the hardest thing. Now, I see that being a mom of a teenager is even more difficult. Or difficult in a different way. I think it has to do with learning to see your child as her own person-someone who is struggling to find her way in the world. We all must go through this. My mother couldn't do it for me, so why should I believe I could do that for her? And why would I want to? (Okay, I know why. Because I know from my own experiences that it is so easy to fall, so easy to make painful choices.) I have to keep reminding myself of this. I have to ask myself "what did I need when I was a teenager?" I want to be a good mother. What does that look like? I think for me it is to be a better listener. To be less of an advice-giver, micro-manager and more of a model of 'wise mind'. To hold my daughter in the light, to trust her good nature, to believe her capable of finding her way.

Just Another Day

2008-05-28T06:19:00.000-07:00

It was summertime.
The day was humid, the air so thick.
On the hill in the woods, I sat and cried and screamed.
Just a child of ten. Afraid to go home.
Rage. I decided to run.
But the men in the car kept circling back,
shouting obscenities. All day I hid in the woods, behind shrubs.
Then…at dusk…I went back home.
At least, I must have thought, I know the demon that awaits me there.
What a choice. What a goddamn choice.

The ups and downs of meds

2008-05-28T05:36:00.000-07:00

Spoke with my daughter last night. I am really worried about her. She has lost 24 pounds since she has been hospitalized. I knew she had lost weight, but niether one of us realized just how much until they weighed her. I am frustrated with the doctor also. I feel like they should have been monitoring her weight more intensely. Whatever med she is taking is suppressing her appetite-but she can't go on losing weight at this rate. It is dangerous. I called down there first thing this morning and left a message with the doc to call me. I also told them to get her a psychologist so she can talk about the dreams she has been experiencing. If the dreams hold a key, then they need to help her navigate this stuff while she is in hospital. Transitions are hard enough on her, but she should at least be medically sound and not in a shaky mental state. I just hope the doctor will agree. So far, they have been responsive. But the weight loss scares the hell out of me. All of these things going on with her has brought up my own memories and struggles that I had growing up. Last night, I honestly thought I was going to lose my mind. The panic was overwhelming. It was like no time had passed since I was a child. Last night I was 10 years old again and scared out of my wits, running away from my brother. Thank God Philip was there. I don't know where my mind would have taken me had he not been by my side. And thank God for Xanax. Whoever invented that pill should win a medal. When you are on the edge looking into the abyss, it is the most frightening experience. I should have seen it coming. I have had enough therapy to know that my childhood traumas will never completely diasappear. I know that the resurfacing of memory is unpredictable and intense. When I told my sister about everything that was going on, she suggested I talk with someone equipped to deal with it. I know that is what I need to do, but I have worked many years on this stuff. I know I can't talk to family about family history-too close for comfort. But I also don't particularly want to go back to therapy because of the expense (we don't have the money) and because I feel like I have been there and done that. Maybe I could call my sponsor. Today things are calmer so maybe I will just do the things Philip suggested-take a walk, meditate, etc. My friend Dave told me a few weeks ago that when my daughter gets in a safe place, I would probably need to cope with my own issues. He said that these things from my childhood would probably come up and that I needed to take care of myself also. I guess his training as a psychologist and his knowledge of my past made him worry about me. How in the hell am I supposed to keep it togther for my daughter if I am coming apart at the seams?

The blahs

2008-05-27T10:46:00.000-07:00

Some days are really difficult for me. It has nothing to do with anyone else, it is just me. I struggle so much with my lack of self-confidence. Like today- today is hard. I started looking at job vacancies with the school system again-not because I want to go back to teaching, but because I don't feel like I am really any good at anything else. There are so many things I want to learn how to do, but I just don't have the self-discipline. A therapist once told me that self-discipline means being a disciple to oneself. You know that is really true. When I feel like a failure, it is because I start to try new things-new diets, new interests, etc. and then I give up. In other words, I no longer take care of myself. I get so frustrated with my inability to stick with things and that just reinforces my feelings of low self-esteem. Still, I keep soldiering on. I guess that is what we all do to some extent. Hopefully some things will stick and over time, I will grow wiser. I certainly hope so.

faith

2008-05-22T05:12:00.001-07:00

The most difficult part of this whole process of selecting a group home for my daughter is the fear that my decision will negatively impact her in some way. There are so many variables... so many issues that might arise and it really scares me. I know that it could be the best thing for her and I wouldn't go through with it if I didn't feel like I was doing the right thing, but that doesn't alleviate my fears because we won't really know whether this is the right decision until we do it. I have to act on faith. I am trying to get her to stand on her own two feet, to take responsibility for her life because the alternative is pretty ugly. I have seen what happens to a person who never grows up, who constantly blames others for his actions and his failures. I made a promise to myself and, more importantly, to my daughter that I wouldn't enable her. I have to have faith in her also. Faith that she is smart enough and determined enough to figure this out. But that doesn't mean that it is easy or that my actions will necessarily get the results I long for. It is a gamble. Sometimes I find myself daydreaming about the future. I imagine S.and I sitting on a porch, looking out at the ocean and we are laughing and all is well. She is older in this dream. She is healthy and strong and independent and loving, and she doesn't blame me for sending her away. Rather she is thankful because she knows that I did it for her sake. I have to hold on to visions like this-it keeps me from completely losing it. I have to trust these images because they come from that intuitive part of me. And because people say that we must envision the reality we desire and hold it in a sacred place.

living with madness

2008-05-20T09:25:00.000-07:00

For as long as I remember, I have been living with someone who is mentally ill. When I was Elijah's age or even younger, I was constantly tormented by my brother. He consistently made my life uneasy because I never knew what sort of mood he would be in. He seemed to enjoy making me miserable. It got to the point that I was afraid to walk into a room where he was because I never knew if he was going to hit me or shout horrible insults (or both). When I would plea with my parents to get him out of the house, they dismissed my complaints and just told me I didn't understand because I was not a parent. Then my mother started to fall apart. Actually, she was never "quite right" emotionally, but it got worse. She had a series of nervous breakdowns and many more near breakdowns. And she wore a different face to friends than she did to us. My dad drank a fifth every night-maybe to deal with the stress of living with Mark and mom. But the truth was his drinking just made everything crazier. He used me to talk about his problems the way one is supposed to do with a partner, not a child. Mark would beat up on me and then my dad would beat him with a belt, kick him out of the house, call the cops, etc. I never really felt safe in my home as a kid. I never could rely on my family to be stable long enough to feel secure. It really fucked me up. It still fucks me up. Sometimes, I feel like I am the one who is mad because whenever I tried to be reasonable and sane, my feelings were negated, dismissed. Now, I am 44 years old and for some reason I made the decision to take care of my parents as they age. Most of the time I am okay, but lately my mom is starting to act up again and I never know if she is going to go completely psychotic and need to be re-hospitalized or if she will miraculously get it together. And now my daughter is in a mental hospital and I am going to have to place her in a group home. As I write this it is like I hear my mom's voice negating my sense of reality."Oh it isn't that bad. You didn't really suffer." I second guess my own interpretation of events and it leaves me feeling vulnerable and insecure. Dealing with the decision to put my daughter in a group home makes me so deeply sad. I wanted my life to be different when I got older. I didn't want to have to deal with the insanity I grew up with and yet here I am. And I wonder "How did I get to this place?" I try to remember the time when I was living far away from my family in Seattle. Of course I did some pretty crazy things and I don't want to trivialize that or look at that time of my life with some sort of false nostalgia. But I do know that I was in the process of healing my wounds, that I had found a place that I loved where I could explore who I really was without the constant expression of dysfunction that permeated life with my family. My other brother did what he had to do to survive-he got the hell away and never came back except for a brief period. Who can really blame him. Sometimes I get angry when I think about him because he doesn't have to deal with this stuff, but deep down I know that he had a right to make that life for himself and in many ways his decision was far healthier than my own. I guess it is petty resentment coupled with the feeling that he abandoned me when we were both kids. But I am sure my sister felt the same about me when I took off for Seattle. My sister is the only one in my family that I can be real with. She helps me navigate through all of my screwed up thinking. When you come from such a destructive family, your thinking gets all muddled. For me, I think one of the worst things I inherited from my childhood was a deep feeling of insecurity. I don't have much confidence in my abilities. I always expect the worst because I could never really trust when things were going well because the bottom always dropped out. Right now I am having a very hard time just writing this because it seems like someone else's life. I just don't know what the hell I am doing.

tormented

2008-05-16T06:15:00.000-07:00

Going to visit a group home today for S...it just feels so strange when I think that she won't be coming home. I am so sad. All I want is for her to have a "normal" teenage life-but this just isn't going to happen I guess. I can't even talk to my brother on the phone because his kids are all doing well-not that I don't want them to be thriving-it is just really hard when I think of S. sitting in a mental hospital-three in three months- when she should be hanging out with her friends, going to the movies, etc. Now I have to decide if this group home is going to be a good place for her. No one knows what this feels like unless they have been there- it is the worst feeling in the world when you have to send your child away to live somewhere else. It isn't natural. It isn't the way it is supposed to work. Last night Elijah started crying again- says he misses S. I just wish it could be different-that she could figure it out so she could come home. I love her so much.

2008-05-06T07:40:00.000-07:00

I am feeling discombobulated -SP? (what a great word) today. Maybe it is the season, maybe it is the day-election day for NC primaries- but whatever it is I feel out of sorts. Just called DSS about my daughter's case-we got a letter in the mail saying that her coverage at the state hospital is not covered because they didn't deem it necessary for her to be at the hospital-even though a medical doctor involuntarily committed her. It gets me so mad when some bureaucrat who deosn't even know our situation makes a decision regarding the medical welfare of my daughter-in spite of the doctor's orders. Now I have to call DSS to see if this is something I need to worry about or if medicaid will pick up the bill. Every way I turn, I feel screwed by the system.

Old Man

2008-04-30T05:56:00.000-07:00

Sometimes words just want to come out as poetry.
No matter how much you may want to write a narrative,
The thoughts are mere snippets of images-fragmented
yet connected to some time that haunts you.
A screen door flapping in the wind.
The dog’s lonely bark.
An old man’s hand.
Say, for instance, you want to tell the story of your grandfather.
How he lived in an old country house before he came to live with you.
You want to talk about the times
He would walk you to school.
But the only thing you can really say
Is that he did this with one hand behind his back,
the other holding his cane.
You see his crisp white shirt,
His waist high britches.
You recall the way he would roll
His fingers around and around,
An unconscious habit or
perhaps he just liked the feel of his soft, old skin
As much as you did.
So, you wrap these images in quiet moments.
They return to you in the oddest times.
But not as stories.

what do ya do?

2008-04-30T04:52:00.000-07:00

Saw my daughter yesterday. She seemed really good-like she was really working on some issues. She wants so much to attend the PRTF program down there, but of course there are complications. It is so infuriating to me that when she finally seems to be adjusting, they can't keep her there. We didn't ask for them to send her there in the first place, but now that she is there and doing well, why the hell can't they keep her? Answer: bureaucracy. And I am tired of it. Now, if she has to go somewhere else, she will have to readjust and she may not do so well at the next place. I came home feeling frustrated and despondent and then made the mistake of watching the news and that just sealed it for me. I am so disgusted by the actions of this country-and it just seems to continue unabated. Latest news yesterday dealt with the struggle of the Iraqi interpreters who risked their lives to help the U.S. and now we have the audacity to refuse to help them when their lives and their family's lives are being threatened. As the soldier said last night "have we no honor?" It reminds me of what we did to the Vietnamese who helped us during that war. And then there is the whole food shortage thing- they showed this poor community where they are basically eating mud paddies to try to stave off the hunger. And here I am with plenty to eat and bitching about my own problems and that makes me feel like crap also. I am grumpy.

on the road...again

2008-04-29T04:39:00.000-07:00

This morning I am driving down to Butner again. I fidn the commute challenging-mainly because I hate driving on highways. My fear of them borders on a phobia. But today I will have some company at least. Elijah is riding with me so he can see his sister. She seems to be doing okay. Last Sunday she said she wanted to stay there and attend the long term program they have. I spoke with the social worker about the possibility- it is still unclear if she would qualify. Nevertheless, I saw it as a good sign that she is thinking about things. It is just so hard to know what would be the best setting for her. She called me last night and asked me to bring her a coloring book. Apparently she is really getting into coloring. It is endearingly odd. I suppose when you don't have access to a computer and you only have 4 television channels, you try to find other outlets to fill your time. I wonder what S. thinks about. Does she fully grasp the seriousness of what has been happening? It is really difficult to get a sense of where she is coming from. I wish I knew.

To David

2008-04-28T05:05:00.000-07:00

Everything is quiet this morning.
The only sounds are the rain in the trees
and the cars as they pass.
I am feeling my age today.
I am feeling my age and it feels good.
I am aware of my body-
the chill in the air.
When we were in love so many years ago,
this wasn't so.
That is why I had to leave.

2008-04-25T05:02:00.000-07:00

Restlessness. Some days I struggle with this so much it feels like it is at the core of my being. Maybe this is why people keep themselves busy all the time. I remember when I was younger before I understood that the feeling would eventually pass, I would always "go out". I am trying to learn not to fight that urge, but to listen to what it is I am trying to avoid. The other day I took a walk around the lake where I grew up. There was a slight downpour and the air was crisp. I looked out over the lake and watched the trees standing still along the banks and I thought about the fact that these same trees were silent witnesses to countless people's comings and goings over the years. I wouldn't mind being a tree in my next life.

heard it on the x

2008-04-24T11:24:00.000-07:00

Just heard this radio show about the effects of antidepressants on those who use them over a long period of time. Basically, there are no studies. But this one woman called in and she talked at length about her life and how fulfilling it is and she credited this to getting her depression treated early as an adolescent. It made me feel better about things after hearing her speak. The doctor who spoke right after her reiterated that there are indications that adolescents who are treated early on are doing much better than those who "lost" those early years.

road trip

2008-04-23T07:24:00.001-07:00

Getting ready to make the trek to Butner again. I am anxious about this meeting and can only hope that we move forward with a clear plan. After staying out until the wee wee hours dancing to Scythian, I am pretty wiped out. They were worth it though. I had a good time just doing something for fun.

2008-04-22T05:34:00.000-07:00

From ‘Paracelsus’
By Robert Browning (1812–1889)
TRUTH is within ourselves; it takes no rise
From outward things, whate’er you may believe.
There is an inmost centre in us all,
Where truth abides in fullness; and around,
Wall upon wall, the gross flesh hems it in,
This perfect, clear perception—which is truth.
A baffling and perverting carnal mesh
Binds it, and makes all error: and, to KNOW,
Rather consists in opening out a way
Whence the imprisoned splendour may escape,
Than in effecting entry for a light
Supposed to be without.