NOTHING IS RIGHT
“Nothing is going right for you today, woah”
That’s what Hubby said during breakfast this morning, after my 100th edgy, irritable, or critical commentary about this or that.
I said “yes, now you get it. It’s been like this all week and it is terrible in here”
I’ve been edgy, irritable and generally not content with anything this week. I hear myself voicing complaint after complaint and yet bite my tongue for most of them, only 1/1000 make it to my lips. The pace my brain hurls problems at me is mind boggling. I dodge, parry, evade, duck, squash, divert, redirect, ignore, and then I can’t, and it slips out.
“This coffee is not as good as I hoped.”
“This show isn’t as funny tonight”
“this room smells funny”
“My chair is hurting my back”
“This isn’t the right kind of candy you bought”
“You shouldn’t spend so much money on . . .”
“People at work have no clue”
“The dishwasher isn’t cleaning well enough, I should just hand wash”
“I can’t remember what I need to do”
“No way I can complete these jobs on time this week”
“These pretzels have too many calories, I thought pretzels were safe”
“The dog smells really bad, when was his last bath”
“The tub won’t drain”
“That song is terribly whiny, how can you stand it”
“stop touching me, no I don’t want another hug”
“The kids aren’t doing any chores”
I keep trying to remind hubby that when he hears the negativity spill outward, it means I can no longer contain it, and the storm is full force.
Luckily the storms have been intermittent, but fairly wild this week.
FOG and DROPPING BALLS
I took Monday off work to recover from the weekend visit of the ‘triggerers’ (Thanks Jim for that word :)), but I really thought jumping back in to my routine would be better than licking my wounds too long.
I didn’t actually decide to take Monday off, It took itself off, since I was unable to focus and think. I got the kids to school and went right back to bed. I checked in around noon, but the fog and noise in my head preventing any actual work to come through. So grateful for my flex schedule.
But then Tuesday started with meetings that needed more meetings, that required more meetings and so many to-do’s that I was losing track from call to call. I started a new system in my notebook, write down everything, but highlight action items to find quickly through my notes later after 4 more back-to-back meetings made me forget the topic of the 1st.
I have dropped more balls this week than ever. Partly due to my foggy brain, but I think, mostly due to so many balls being thrown at me. Like the batting cage machine has been switched to pro. Someone put it back on novice! please!
Big changes at work, and insane deadlines, and everyone is crabby and lost. I don’t think I’m just projecting that. And I’m starting to think I’m not the only bigwig at work with underlying mental health issues – but I do think I may be the only one actively trying to work through them. (zing!)
I decided to try something new this week, which I did by accident.
That night I went out for a sugar run, I was also having one of my typical irritated bladder days and added more cranberry pills to the list. The cranberry pills take away the urgent feeling I get pre-infection and prevent the infection from starting I swear by it. Anyways I head over to the vitamin section and see my cranberry pills are BOGO today! Score! and right next to them , also BOGO, is melatonin.
I’ve read all the pros and cons of melatonin supplements. I had decided not to try them years back when still on SSRIs, not wanting to confuse the whole serotonin/melatonin system. But I’ve been med-free for many years now and simply forgot about it. I thought why not? I’ve never tried it, and it helped me sleep maybe I could get out this funk and crabby mood that is irritating to me and everyone subjected to me.
I took the first pill, which is a dual formula of instant release and extended release, 5mg, in same pill, and shortly I felt something so wonderful I can’t barely explain. I felt my brain calm down. (placebo? perhaps some, but I’ll take relief in any form) It was not like a sleeping pill or like the haze of cold medicine. It was a distinct – slowing down. The pace of the thoughts in my head slowed and slowed until I could hear no thoughts at all. I felt the tension melt away. For a moment, I felt content. And then I lay down, fell asleep, and what? Next thing I knew it was morning.
It scared me at first. My nights are usually VERY long. I struggle to fall asleep. I struggle to stay asleep. I have wild dreams that I remember disturbingly each night, often many a night. I was so confused. I heard birds singing, and saw the sun peeking up outside. I had no recollection of the night or any dreams.
Next night I took a melatonin pill the same time of evening, around 10 pm. This time I didn’t feel the calm set in, but I wasn’t so agitated to start with. I feared placebo. I geared up for a restless night. And instead fell right asleep again and awoke in the morning again. Really this is freaky. Do most people have the night time disappear? Like it doesn’t happen? I have only had that experience before with surgery, where the time leaves my brain. It is really odd. But I woke up, and completely woke up. No fog. still some negativity – because even placebo isn’t that strong – but I felt something new. Rested? Refreshed? It was so puzzling. So I got up early and just started working, because my brain wanted to work and my body wanted to move. And it wasn’t the caffeine forced type of movement – it was like the music has a good beat so you find yourself moving without thinking. I was doing and not thinking, and it was freaking morning!! I wasn’t forcing my sorry butt to move and rub 2 brain cells together to spark 1 measly thought as morning usually are.
And so her I am, night 6 and I am so looking forward to my melatonin and to my morning. I got up today, whole fam went out to IHOP, ran some errands, then spent 4 hours organizing my basement. My freaking basement! We have been unable to walk into most portions of our basement for a decade now. It was an OCD nightmare and a hoarders dream. boxes, bags, bins, toys, holiday decorations, outgrown clothes, old curtains, old blankets, old photos, books – so many boxes of old books, art supplies, college textbooks, college reports, filing boxes, Rubbermaid bins, . . . you know the stuff you accumulate after 15 years in a house without even knowing it. Kids helped me sort old toys – we filled 3 giant storage bins and 3 garbage bags worth of toys to donate to goodwill. We bagged 6 bags of trash. We tossed out old lamps and rusty fixtures that we once thought worth repairing but that now looked sad and worthless. We swept, we lysoled, we pried open the stuck window to literally breathe new life into that room. We purchased 2 shelving units and pushed shoved and labored until I can say that we can walk through that room, and I now know what is down there. It certainly isn’t done, as far as organizing goes. But today was amazing. I found an old table I forgot we had (not an end table mind you, a full size dining sized table that would seat 6) buried in the junk. I found a closet with old shelves waiting for some paint to be useful.
I threw out items from my childhood that I had only held onto out of guilt. Hubby held open the trash bag and encouraged me to toss them. One item, was an enormous handmade latch hook rug. the kind that comes in a kit with the squareholed fabric and the tiny yarns. Usually people do small ones and turn them into pillows. this was a 3x4ft long jobby that represented HUNDREDS of hours of mind numbing yarn latching. Why did I spend so many hours on this project you ask? I didn’t.
Back story. I loved painting tigers in high school. I doodled them everywhere, fascinated by the strength and beauty and intricate patterns. And the eyes, the glowing powerful eyes. So my Mom (you guessed she was involved in this, right?) bought me this latch hook kit as a gift my senior year in high school. I had just moved in to her apartment and away from AF and we were trying to play house. This rug kit was a jungle scene – zebra, elephant, giraffe, and even though it was in my hands todays, I can’t actually recall if it had a tiger or not. But I know it had animals that would only live together at a zoo, not together in a jungle, and it bothered me. So trying to be the good girl and show my gratitude for such a thoughtful gift, see she knew I loved jungles! So I started working on it, and when I saw that 2 hours filled in 2 zebra stripes of this massive project, I set it aside and forgot about it. I mean I was 17, had 2 jobs, a boyfriend, volunteered at the hospital, had perfect grades from community college courses, and more. I was trying to heal from the past 16 years and get myself a scholarship. Crafting was not remotely on my list.
I barely spoke to my mom that year, barely went ‘home’ as it never felt like home. And so by the end of that year, my mom was able to surprise me with what she thought was a perfect going away gift for college. She had completed the latch hook rug herself so I could display it in my college dorm. I was certainly surprised. What? She worked on that project? It must have taken forever. I remember feeling sad for her wasting all that time, so many better things to do, really. And so sad, because even the most beautiful latch hook rug is still a FREAKING LATCH HOOK RUG! It was ugly, blotchy, childish. It had nothing about those beautiful creatures that I adore. I was not interested in it. And now I had to love it. Her fingers hurt from the effort. She had done this for me. See how much she loved me? All those months when I was dying inside and wishing death would find me – all those months of working so hard to fix my life and get back on track – all those months with no guidance from her – all those months starving myself and working so hard to be perfect – she was making me this rug.
And so it became a THING that she would make sure the rug was on display, and remind me how many hours she worked on that out of pure love for me, and how her fingers bled and blistered and ached just to make me happy. Everytime I saw it I felt guilty for hating it and forced to say how much I loved it. And so for many years it was hung on my wall. The last 5-8 years it has been buried in the junk in that basement. And today? It is in a garbage bag on my curb.
And I feel some relief, but I have to admit, part of me wants to go out there and rescue it right now, wondering if I made a mistake. I feel guilty. Still. Stupid rug. Good riddance. Just wish it felt better. And since it doesn’t, must mean there is more work for me to do there. My entire childhood my AF said my mom hated me and I believed it. I was angry at her for making it back then. I felt violated and put upon. I didn’t ask her to make it. I had no choice. And now I wonder if this desperate gesture really was her attempt to win me over and show she cared? or an attempt to manipulate? Something to keep her busy while she had no clue how to reach her hurting daughter? I still don’t know about her. so much pain and mistrust. so much to let go.
One more triggering item out of sight, just not sure how long until it is out of mind.
(I didn’t even tell you about her emails all week after her visit, maybe next time. Classic and predictable, and yet so were my gut reactions. I want my therapist so badly, and I’m not pleased to have see someone knew. I scheduled the appt and will try to give it a chance but I am so doubtful someone knew can be helpful and I don’t feel like training her on what I need. I almost want to prepare cliff notes to get her caught up. ha, that might actually be a useful exercise .. .)