I cannot believe it's been a month since I last posted. I cannot believe that it can only mean that I've spent a month on the couch. In jammies. I haven't really made contact with old friends, I've seen very limited amounts of my family and I'm still struggling to get up in the morning.
The last few months before the big move were so stressful. SO stressful. Working hard in teacher's college, challenged with a changing household and relationship, Thing One's descent into madness, hospitalization, struggling to finish practicum teaching while keeping up with psychiatric appointments, medications, packing the house and moving. It was almost too much. I know that friends and family were frustrated with me, I went inward, I cried more, I reached out less. I tried desperately to hold on to my family and normalcy while everything we've worked for stood threatened.
I know that its over now. Despite all of that, I've climbed the mountain and am standing on the other side intact. Not unscathed, but intact. Thing One pulled out of his relapse in early July with a med increase, and although he is SO combative, angry, rude and intolerant, anxious, mean and a bully to us in the household - he's here, in our reality and isn't being chased by his demons. I am THANKFUL. For however long it lasts I am thankful. I worry because he seems so UNCOMFORTABLE in his own skin, its almost at times like he cannot stand to be him, and I stand by helpless as I watch my nine year old struggle. I cannot imagine what it must be like to live in his world, and I do not think that even my impressions of that should be wished upon anyone.
I am struggling financially. Staying home with the kids this summer has been a good thing for them (on my good days), but a bad thing for the family finances. We barely have enough to squeak by and I worry and fall on the mercy of Gail Vaz-Oxlade's budget busting tips. No matter how much I wish can I make money multiply in those stupid little jars and I curse the gods of money. Further, because I have the new car, my student loan estimates have dropped significantly, suggesting that I am going to have to work at least part-time while I work on my Masters of Education. Worse, the classes are held in the evenings, and I struggle with how I will spend meaningful time with my children, help them with their homework and maintain an ounce of stability. Working all day, class at night and a few hours here and there to steal with them. I don't know how it will all work but I'm still learning. I'm still learning about what I am really capable of.
Despite those issues (and sometimes I feel like that's all I do is bellyache), I am not happy. I feel pushed under the water and both my arms are asleep. I struggle to get up in the morning and I work hard at being functional all day long. I have a hard time going to sleep at night in my crushing loneliness. I am lonely, although there are friends around. Its me, its not anything in my life, I know its all in my head but I don't know how to put words to it.
I don't know what is plaguing me. I'm lonely, I recognize that, but I wonder how self-imposed that is. I feel like I've done all the complaining, reasoning, talking out of the issues in my life for the last year and that maybe my friends can't hear anymore. Or I don't have anymore words. I wonder if I'm just starting to process the grief and stress of Thing One's mental health issues and crises now that I have time to sit down and think. I don't want to sleep alone, I don't want to wake alone. I feel like I'd give just about anything to have a hand to hold all day long. To somehow have that feeling that even though I can't talk about what hurts, I can steal strength in the touch of someone who loves me.
And somehow, I've long ago lost the ability (or the willingness?) to ask for it.