Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Gutted.

I'm depressed again. I realized it a few days ago. I thought I was just tired, but then there was what should have been a slight disappointment that actually felt more like a devastating blow. I cried about nonsense that I knew was nonsense but cried anyway. I didn't feel better after I cried and that's when I knew.

And just like I knew I was depressed I know that it will pass. I need to ride out this storm and it will all be over eventually.

I yelled at Nathan the other day. He acted poorly, I asked him for some space and when he not only didn't go into the other room like I asked but acted even more poorly, I lost it. We've been talking a lot about using our words when we are upset and need space. I used my words and he didn't respect them and I yelled at him. A rational woman would have had better control. A rational woman would not have expected a six year old to respect her need for space.

I don't want to feel this way. I don't want to yell at my kid. My mother used to yell at me like this. I'd do something that I knew I wasn't supposed to do, I'd push buttons, and she'd blow. She'd explode on me in a way I didn't deserve and was excessive considering the infraction.

I was watching TV later that night and one of the characters had to attend the funeral of his father. He turned and looked at the casket and the reaction was one I understand so well, that feeling when you fully realize that your parent is dead. There in a box, or in my case a marble urn, just utterly and completely dead. No longer alive to complain about, or hope someday things will be better, or to see as a burden, or any of the other feelings one could have when a father/son or mother/daughter relationship is complicated beyond measure.

There's a certain comfort in the norm, in the same-shit-different-day life with someone. Even though it may seem like it won't ever end, at some point it does. Things change. People die.

I watched the guy on the sitcom come to terms with his newly dead father by the next commercial break. I remember sobbing in the church at my mother's funeral, feeling completely gutted. To this day, I do not know why I was crying. I guess it was 34 years of cut-short sobbing that flowed forth, unstoppable, a culmination of everything. To see this guy look at his father's corpse, feel the gutting and get over it so quickly and neatly, it didn't feel genuine to me.

I wish I could say I'm depressed about my mother and so I yelled at my kid, but it's not that linear. The depression, the yelling, the grieving, they all happen in swirls around each other, connected, but no one causing the other. Of course I can see how my relationship with my son conjures up unresolved feelings about my relationship with my mother. How I use what I know to not screw it all up, to not do more harm than good, that escapes me. Keeping the past in the past, being the mother he needs amid the uncertainty of the future, that's the difficult thing.

Sometimes I'm still standing in that church, gutted, wondering where I go from here.

 
Joining my pals on the yeah write grid again this week. Stop by.

37 comments:

  1. It gets better. And then it doesn't some days.
    Step by step...and when that doesn't work, sit for awhile and ride the crap out.
    xo

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    1. Exactly - one step forward, two steps back.
      Currently sitting. Nothing else to do but.
      xo

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  2. This is so hard. And yet your words? Lovely. Offering solidarity via the internet waves.

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    1. I'll take some solidarity. Thank you :)

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  3. You gutted me with this, lady! So brutally honest. Parent/child relationships can be so complicated, and you illustrated the conflict so well here. This is the stuff that keeps me up at 3am. Will be thinking about this one for awhile.

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    1. It keeps me up, too. As much as I want an uncomplicated relationship with my son, I don't think that's even possible. Thanks for your kind words.

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  4. There is so much here. So much wisdom.

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  5. The line about riding the wave is so true. It doesn't make the depths feel any better, but -- in the lucid moments -- there is comfort in knowing you'll rise. Eventually.

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    1. Oops. Storm, not wave. Same idea, different weather.

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    2. It's true, knowing I'll come out on the other side, even if it's going to take a while, keeps me pushing. Storms, waves, it's all the same - wet :)

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  6. So sorry you are feeling this way.

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  7. Sending hugs to you from across the river, and lots of support until the storm passes.

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  8. Oh I how I wish it was linear. Seems like it would make it feel better. Great writing.

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    1. I feel like linear would mean I'd be able to pinpoint where I was along the way and how long it would be until I was done, and there's definitely some comfort in that.
      Thanks Christie.

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  9. Is there such a thing as an uncomplicated relationship when it comes to our kids? Who knows... certainly the depression doesn't help... thank god its a remissive illness... but it cant stop soon enough Im sure... thinking of you. Z~

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    1. If uncomplicated exists, I'm 100% unaware of it.
      Thanks for the kind words.

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  10. We are such complicated beings. If it was simply cause and effect it would be so much easier wouldn't it? Hopefully you know that you are certainly not alone in your feelings. We all go through bouts of depression and who knows why? Hoping that things turn around soon for you.

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    1. Thanks Bill. Complicated indeed. I'm sure things will turn around soon and the up will feel so much better after the down.

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  11. The loss of a parent did wake me up too. Things to end. Not as in Friday the work week ends -- or as in depression -- knowing some day our mood will brighten. Some day people leave this earth and that is it. For our remaining days on earth anyway. We can't always say the right things or do that right things -- but when I do keep that things do end in mind -- hopefully I behave better more days than not. (not sure that made any sense.)

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    1. It makes a lot of sense. But you're right - to behave better most of the time really is so important.

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  12. Beautiful, and I understand totally. I always thought I'd have time to sort things out with my dad, but neither of us ever took that step. I think that's been the hardest thing to deal with...

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    1. If my mother had lived forever I'm still not sure we could have worked it all out, but the realization that it's not an option is sometimes a tough one.

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  13. Damn it thank you. I needed this. I love honest blogs.

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  14. I don't mean to pry but how old are you? Let me throw this one out there ... could your body be going through some changes? You're going through EXACTLY what I went through a couple of years ago. I'm nowhere near menopause but apparently, there's something called peri-menopause (oh yeah, like we women needed one more freaking thing!) and this could be causing a shift in your hormones. I started taking some organic stuff and it seemed to level me off.

    So sorry, you're dealing with this ... it really truly sucks more than anything has sucked before.

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    1. You're not prying. I'm 37. My hormones are definitely not what they used to be, that's for sure.

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  15. You hit the issue on the head in that last paragraph. Not linear, but related. I'm giving you a virtual hug right now...
    And grief is NEVER wrapped up in a twenty-two minute sitcom. It's messy, just like life.

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    1. Messy is an understatement. It still amazes me how long grief goes on for. I'm beginning to think it will last forever to some degree. Thanks for the hug :)

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  16. I have nothing smarter, sweeter, or more profound to add than the other commenters, but I had to jump in because I feel your pain and I figure the more ((hugs)) the better! And I wanted to tell you how beautifully you expressed yourself. Your words truly touched me.

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    1. This comment was plenty sweet. Thanks for reading, commenting and the hugs. Much appreciated.

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