Some days aren’t so great. I’ve had a pretty good couple of weeks, so to have a day like today? Sucks. Big. Time.
Hello, my name is Mari and I have depression. Just thought I’d remind myself of this little tidbit. Things have been so good I almost forgot.
Back at the beginning of December I thought my world had ended. I know. It was the shock of feeling like the rug had been pulled out from under me more than anything that led me to say the things I did. A few days later I surprised myself when I finally believed I loved myself. I finally felt that love. I fought for myself and won. I’m still fighting and still winning. I’ve had difficult times since then. Times I’ve wondered if I could make it through. I’ve also had times that have been amazing.
Yes, I have depression. I also have hope. I’ve felt this duality of sadness and hope for quite a while. The last few weeks have been stressful, but they were Good. Yes, that deserved a capital G. There was… less fight needed to stay on top.
Back to my heartbreak of December. That now feels a like a scratch compared to what I felt last night and today. Yep, that bad.
My son and his girlfriend. I’d decided to step back from the situation and let them be. My son is on his own life path. All I can do for him is remind him that I love him. My therapist had told me I’d made the right decision. She said to me… let him know you’ll always love him. I didn’t understand why she’d say those words.
I understand now.
His girlfriend refers to me as “V’s fucking mother” to friends and as “your fucking mother” to my son. Often. I can only think of two ways for him to cope with this daily and stay with the girl he wants to marry. Detach. Or. Begin to feel that way himself. My son has changed this week. He has begun to treat me as my parents do. I guess it’s easy enough. He’s watched their treatment of me almost his whole life.
I realised last night that I will have to step back from him the same way that I am stepping away from my parents. Things won’t be okay once we’ve all moved. I won’t be welcome to visit. This would upset her. He won’t be free to visit me. This would upset her. He doesn’t want to upset her. I imagine it won’t be long before he refers to me as “my fucking mother”. At that point he’ll feel nothing or he will hate me as she does.
Yes, my heart feels broken again. I’d like to think I’m wrong. I could wish for it with every fibre of my being. Wishing doesn’t change it. I’ve lost my son. It’s only a matter of time. Sure, it won’t be forever. I know this. Knowing doesn’t make it hurt any less right now.
This brings us back to today. I didn’t fall apart. I cried last night. I cried a lot today as well. I didn’t lose control. Not really. The problem became… I have all these tools to avoid falling apart, to cope with situations… and I didn’t use a single one.
I didn’t want to.
I wanted the pain to Stop.
These words stared at me from my screen today. I wanted to cut. For the first time in 20 years I felt that absolute craving, that need. Knowing I felt that way didn’t even scare me. I wanted the pain gone. I carried the blade around for hours on the back of my mantra. I didn’t read it. Maybe seeing the paper was enough. I know it by heart anyway. It starts… I am safe. Earlier tonight I finally rang a friend. I began to do the things I should. I was able to put the blade away. The crisis passed.
Tomorrow will be easier.
This isn’t about sympathy. I don’t want that. It’s about being honest and not locking the words inside. Until I rang my friend I refused to speak about what was in my mind. This is about keeping the words flowing.
Nothing more. Nothing less.