Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Common Threads

I have been trying to reconstruct the history of my battle.  In doing so I have been re-reading my old journals.  There was quite a bit of concern in the house about whether this would prove to be a bad idea or not.  I admit it's depressing but not in the sense that it's making me depressed now, just that it turns out the struggles I'm having now are pretty much the same as I have been having all along.  

They are basically feeling like a bad mom, overwhelmed, fear and anger - around pretty much everything but that maybe should be another post - guilt, lack of energy and motivation, and not feeling like I contribute sufficiently to the household. That last one is a little odd because I also often feel like I'm treated like "the help"  I can't explain that but I suppose that shouldn't surprise me because I can rarely explain or rationalize my feelings.

As far as the whole suicide/death wish thing goes, it seems the pattern bounced around among the following:
    Suicidal - plans made, fantasies.  In the end this was never a real possibility because I could not come up with a way where someone I love wouldn't be the one to find me but I still thought about it a lot and still occasionally.
   Wishing I could fall asleep and not wake up.  I'm not sure how I might have anticipated that might happen but whatever.
   Some kind of freak accident or medical thing.  Some unknown heart defect, an aneurism of some sort, getting hit by a car etc.

Now as far as death and dieing  goes I have a bus theory about my moods.  If I see a bus coming would I a) jump in front of it b) jump out of the way c)  just wait for it to come and hit me or d) just watch it go by.  Options a and b still happen but not that often anymore.  I can't really say whether c or d happens more often but those are where my moods are most of the time. 

There are, thankfully, days when I feel happy too.  I'm not going to try to quantify in terms of how often or how happy because I just want to maintain my gratitude that they exist and on my worst days the knowledge that they do arrive, often unannounced.
My "drug" of choice throughout has been sleep and it still is.  Probably not the best coping mechanism but it's better than drugs or alcohol although if I'm going to be totally honest I have used prescribed medications to help me sleep when it all gets to be too much.

Added Note:  I forgot to mention those times when I wish I could just sink into the couch and disappear with the loose change and Jessica's dirty socks.


  1. What kept me from suicide was the same reason as yours--what it would do to my son.
    Be careful with the reconstructing. For me it helps, but there's been times where I've gotten awful down because of it.

  2. Oh, I have had all those feelings too, my son keeps me from reacting to my feelings. I find that completely ignoring some of the reasons I feel down are better so I say put the journals down and pick up the crafting. :o) Hugs, Kim

  3. Sleep is my second drug of choice but the one I've used most often. I've never considered looking back at my old writings, but I guess it could be helpful in noticing patterns of behavior.

    As Linda said above, be careful. Baby steps will still finish the race.

  4. When you re-read your journals, do you have ANY feeling of having improved in some areas?

    I started journaling when my Dad had a stroke... I wanted to document this event and his approaching Death (Dad was 90, so the chance of survival was nil)... it wound up chronicling not only his death, but my divorce and the ensuing Hell that followed... but when I go back and re read, I do see that I have made some headway.

    Do you have that feeling at all?


  5. The reconstruction thing has been good overall. The reason I wanted to do it is because the illness stole enough from me. I want back what I can get and then the journals will get tossed. I felt like I needed to hold on to them (why, I don't know) but each page I review I now feel completely free to shred. Yes, Red Shoes, I absolutely can see the progress. I still have the same struggles, but reading about them doesn't depress me because they are not nearly as intense and debilitating as they were. I still have bad days but the misery and hopelessness doesn't come as often and not nearly as bad.
    Thanks for the comments.