Monday, July 19, 2010

Blah blah blah

I'm tired of being the boring friend with problems. I'm tired of calling my family and having nothing pleasant to say. Or worse, faking happy. I can't hide that I'm angry, sad and overwhelmed. I don't want to be this person who is so dreadfully unpleasant, who complains constantly, who can't get a grip. I know everyone in my life right now takes a deep breath before they answer my call. Oh, it's Froggymama, brace yourselves for emotional projectile vomit! Thar she blows!

I used to be fun, now I feel like a big bitchy poop. That's right. A big bitchy poop. As a writer, I've dug deep into my descriptive vocabulary cavity and waaaa laaaa big bitchy poop. Brilliant, right? I'm angry at everyone, irritated at the slightest infraction, holding onto my sanity with dental floss. I'm so sick of myself. I don't know if I have a right to be angry or if I'm projecting, and after the anger blows, after the volcano erupts, there is this lava of sadness, this seeping, deep, hot depression. It is an ache like someone has died, but we're all here, just different, unrecognizable.

I can't place it. I can't wrap it neatly into a category and then 'work on' those feelings. It's chaos. I don't know who we were or who we are now. I don't know what our lives will be like, what is best. I'm just lost. I've never felt so completely out of my element. It's like being picked up by a wave and dropped on the beach, mangled and half-drowned. I'm not dead, not paralyzed, just stunned, waiting for someone to pick me up. Waiting for a rescue that never happens.

I watch shows like "Intervention" where families ask their loved-one to go into rehab and I think, "You lucky bastard, GO!" Twelve weeks of therapy and self reflection, time to think and just take care of yourself. I want mom intervention. I want to go to a mom resort where I write in a notebook about my day and progress and walk on the beach and just "reflect." When I get help with Froggy, I spend that time working or cleaning. And every self-help guru and therapist and everyone says, "You really need to take time for yourself." Really? Brilliant. Let me just go meditate, pray or exercise while the dog craps on the floor and Froggy burns the house down and my boss makes his own calls. When exactly should I make time for myself? Who will cover for mom? Who can do Froggy's treatments and meds?

I'm just tired, a big bitchy poop who is tired.

I want to be a positive person again. I don't like this girl. And on top of everything that is what is really killing me. I hate myself right now, because I cannot rise above this. I cannot stay patient and positive. I cannot be the mom I want to be for Froggy. I'm like Fragglerock, a crazy puppet mama who churns out laundry and PBJ's and tells the dog to shut-up when he barks at the skateboarders and I'm so angry at CF. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.

Froggy has a cold and is coughing big time, her new g-tube equipment is driving me bonkers and I just hate this f*cking disease. I want a cure now. I want some rest and peace and I just want everything to be okay. I want comfort and a partner. I want someone to hold me and say, "it's going to be alright." But I'm alone. And I keep trying to get comfort from someone who is incapable of comfort. It's futile and sad and I wish I would just keep my mouth shut because what I'm looking for isn't there. It just isn't. And I feel stupid when at the other end of my words is just silence. Always. Silence.

Everyone says this is going to get better, that our lives, because we deserve it, or because statistically they just have to... but man, oh man, I don't believe it anymore.

7 comments:

Liza said...

You're not alone. Somedays I can hardly stand myself. I don't like the person I've become. Once on a drive to the veterinary clinic a couple miles out of town I seriously considered just driving, running away. Except, I can't really run away from myself. I once secretly wished that I'd get ill, so I could have some downtime and someone would care for me, take on some of my stuff.

That one backfired -- I got bronchitis and worried Max would get it, then awoke from a power coma-nap to find him sitting on my head with DH oblivious.

I freak out over the smallest little incident. I cried about a stupid change in an oral antibiotic last month. I freaked out on DH because he was busy with work last night and forgot to meet us at the pool after lessons to get Max changed for gymnastics.

Friends commend me on my ability to keep things together, to deal with all that's happened over the past 7 years, but somedays I'm barely holding things together.

There are other days, when I can look at my life, when I get snuggles from Max, when he makes us laugh hysterically, when I have to remind myself what a JOY he is. And while I hate CF and what it's done to other people, I have met some wonderful people -- like you -- along the way.

Vent away! Have a good cry, tantrum, rage! I'm sure none of your friends or family believe that your are as terrible as you seem to THINK you are. I'm sure they look forward to hearing from you. That they care about you and worry about you! Ratatosk

Casey said...

Honey - you know I would listen to you....and join in. We could have a regular bitch session. My life, except for the HUGE piece of CF, is very much like yours. Time for myself?!?! Seriously? In the years of law school everyone told me to take time for myself but there was NONE to be had. Ever. Which apparently was *my* fault. And now? Now I admit to having kid-free time when they are with their other mother but it isn't the way I want time. It's lonely and heartbreaking time because of all that is missing.

Dental floss in pretty strong stuff. Hang on tight to it to keep you tethered to your sanity. And when you let go for a few minutes, I'm here to catch you.

Believe me, I understand. Call me. Any time.

ferfischer said...

Oh my - I'm thinking of you and wishing you peace and strength in your life. Go easy on yourself, momma, life ain't easy, and you're only human.

Anonymous said...

Big Bitchy Poop? Sounds like a name I would have called you in junior high. Except I would have done it secretly, to my friends and behind your back because you probably would have kicked my arse. However, if anyone else would have called you a big bitchy poop, I would have kicked their arse. So there. Don't make me kick your arse.

I love you and I will happily listen to your emotional vomit any day of the week and twice on Sundays. I look forward to your calls and never sigh when I see your name come up on my phone.

And lastly, "You, yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe deserve your love and affection" ~ Buddha


I love you! ~ Auntie Honka

Anonymous said...

At least your a good writer :).
I'm a single mom 3 years past separation from ex-husband, and I promise it gets easier. Now is the time to ask for help and not feel bad about it. This practice has brought such amazing things into my life-- things I could not have conjured on my own...

Anonymous said...

ergh....hugs to you. i agree with what everyone has said here. and especially - yes - yes - you are a good writer. hang in there - you are doing a great job as a mom. it sure isn't easy - but just the fact that you recognize yourself and are able to write about it - is amazing. i know there is a light at the end of the tunnel for you. hugs hugs hug!!! jcn

Anonymous said...

There is some really great advice here in these comments. Every Mom can relate to the feeling of not having any time to themselves and wanting to just get in the car and run away - at least until you'd miss your child so much that you couldn't stand being alone any longer. What all moms can't relate to is dealing with the extra routines, stresses, worries, etc., etc. etc. that come with CF. I don't think there is a person in their right mind that would criticize you for feeling sad, frustrated, bitchy, angry, depressed, angry, lonely, betrayed,overworked, stressed, angry...... You have a lot to deal with, and you do not have to do it all on your own. Rely on the people that love you, talk to us, "vomit" on us, ask for help and support. I understand how hard it is to ask for help, but it's okay. I know there are things only you can do, but at least call on those who love you (and I know you have many people who love you dearly)to listen to you whenever you need to vent. No one will think any less of you, and if they do - they haven't yet been faced with life challenges that bring them to their knees.
I love you! Jeanie