I just read my last post and thought to myself the very words in the title of this post. It truly is amazing to me that after all the therapy, psychoactive medications, AA meetings and other things I have engaged in to "cure" my depression, it is painfully obvious that much like my addiction, there is no cure - there is only acceptance that it will always be there and management of the disease.
Last night, I completely fucking lost it. I screamed and yelled like I don't think I ever have before; so hard in fact that my throat (vocal chords presumably) was burning in pain. I came home depressed after finding out that, contrary to my belief and against my wishes, Tessi had stayed home from school yet again. I called the office to try to make an appointment to come in and talk to the asst. principal about it, and the attendance lady (who knows me by voice now) told me that the truancy officer had been in earlier and mentioned that he wants to cite Tessi into court for excessive truancies, which could mean time lost from work and a $250 fine for me.
When I got home, I went into the bedroom and assumed the position : laying down, fetal position, wishing myself away. When Debbie got home, she was upset of course. She tries, at least I think she does, to be supportive, but all I really feel from her is anger and disappointment, which just makes things worse. We were supposed to have "date night," and even though I had a pounding headache, I told her I was still committed to that. So I got up and we went to the store to get some stuff for dinner.
After we got home, she started talking about money, and how she wanted to give me $620 for rent, which would leave her basically broke for the week. I told her that she didn't need to do that, and she went on to explain how she feels "guilty," that she think she spends more than she brings in, that she wants to pay her share, and ultimately - what came out in the end, was that she has a very hard time with the fact that I make more than she does. She doesn't want to think that she isn't doing her fair share.
Now if she had gone about this all in a positive, matter-of-fact way, it might not have gone badly. But the fact is, she seemed very down about it, and we even ended up getting into a small argument about it. I told her that it was silly for her to give me all her money, only to leave herself broke so that I would have to give some back so she would have money for things during the week. She then went into some martyr mode where she said she could just do without, that she didn't want to spend any money on herself, that she didn't need any coffee, blah blah blah. Thing is, I have told her SEVERAL times that it doesn't bug me to help support her and the kids, that it's my pleasure, and that I view the money I make as OURS - not mine. And NEVER have I made any mention of the fact that it's ME who really supports the family - it all comes from her head.
Being completely frustrated, I asked her if she would like me to quit my job and work at Taco Bell so she could make more than me - if that would make her feel better. And in the way that so many women seem to be so good at, she seemed almost incredulous, as if the answer was "yes, that would make me feel better" - knowing that would lower all of our standard of living. Then, in another classic twist, she said, "Well, if it would make YOU feel better, I would support it." ????? At that point, I pretty much gave up, and decided that instead of going on date night, I was going to into bed and end the night.
I told her I didn't feel well and was going to bed. She followed me into the room, we started arguing, and I just BLEW : I was not going to be talked over again. No, I yelled louder than I have ever yelled in my life. And I yelled about Tessi and the fact that she couldn't find it in herself to go to school; I yelled about the fact that I had been abused when I was a kid, yet I still went to work every day; I yelled about the fact that I make too much money for Debbie, and too little for Tessi; I yelled saying that I was going to leave, that everyone would be better if I blew my brains out; I yelled that she could leave and take Tessi, the dog and everyone else with her; I SCREAMED about everything. And when I was done, I felt like I had expended every amount of energy in my body. Surprisingly, Debbie came up and actually hugged me and said she loved me - the most supportive thing she has done yet. Then, I laid down and went to bed.
When she came into bed, she was distant and seemed pretty much like she didn't want to touch me or me to touch her. I asked her if she would prefer that I didn't touch her, and she said "I didn't say that." Of course she didn't. But her body language sure did. It was a crummy night of sleep, and I woke up this morning extremely tired, wondering if I would even be able to make it to work. Alas, I did, and her I sit writing this. I just called Diana to see if I could make an appointment and fate would have it that the only time she has available this week is tomorrow at 4:30. Thing is, I made an appointment for Tessi to see a counselor tomorrow at 5pm, so that's not going to work for me. I guess this week, I am just going to have to tough it out.
Last night, I wasn't quite as suicidal as I have been in the past (like in my last post), but I sure was wishing for respite. I am just so tired. It seems like I spend my whole life pushing : pushing Tessi to go to school, pushing Debbie to accept the fact that I enjoy providing, pushing Debbie to accept that it's ok for her to join Weight Watchers, that we CAN afford it (that was another point of contention last night), pushing Cooper to stop peeing on the floor; pushing pushing pushign. I just don't want to push anymore. I'm tired.
So again, I offer up my plea for the asteroid to hit; again I beseech God or whoever to end this insanity that is my life, in SOBRIETY no less! Hell, I may as WELL be getting high right now, as unmanageable, erratic and crazy as my life is. I sometimes wonder if being sober is all it's cracked up to be right now.
But I will stay sober. I will stay at work and finish out the day. I will do what I am "supposed" to do, what I am expected to do, if for no other reason than I don't want the guilt of not doing it, and I want to be able to say "See! I'm all screwed up and I still carried on!" Ahhh yes, that good ol' stubborn pride. Nice to know that it's good for something.
But that's not to say that I still don't think about just running away. In fact, last night, that's where my thoughts were instead of suicide - thinking of going away to the mountains and just sitting on a mountaintop and waiting to die, starving myself to death. For some reason, it just sounded like the right thing to do. And who knows - if things keep up, if this cycle keeps going the way it is, with each successive blowup getting worse than the one before, it might not be long til that mountaintop finds me.
Last night, I completely fucking lost it. I screamed and yelled like I don't think I ever have before; so hard in fact that my throat (vocal chords presumably) was burning in pain. I came home depressed after finding out that, contrary to my belief and against my wishes, Tessi had stayed home from school yet again. I called the office to try to make an appointment to come in and talk to the asst. principal about it, and the attendance lady (who knows me by voice now) told me that the truancy officer had been in earlier and mentioned that he wants to cite Tessi into court for excessive truancies, which could mean time lost from work and a $250 fine for me.
When I got home, I went into the bedroom and assumed the position : laying down, fetal position, wishing myself away. When Debbie got home, she was upset of course. She tries, at least I think she does, to be supportive, but all I really feel from her is anger and disappointment, which just makes things worse. We were supposed to have "date night," and even though I had a pounding headache, I told her I was still committed to that. So I got up and we went to the store to get some stuff for dinner.
After we got home, she started talking about money, and how she wanted to give me $620 for rent, which would leave her basically broke for the week. I told her that she didn't need to do that, and she went on to explain how she feels "guilty," that she think she spends more than she brings in, that she wants to pay her share, and ultimately - what came out in the end, was that she has a very hard time with the fact that I make more than she does. She doesn't want to think that she isn't doing her fair share.
Now if she had gone about this all in a positive, matter-of-fact way, it might not have gone badly. But the fact is, she seemed very down about it, and we even ended up getting into a small argument about it. I told her that it was silly for her to give me all her money, only to leave herself broke so that I would have to give some back so she would have money for things during the week. She then went into some martyr mode where she said she could just do without, that she didn't want to spend any money on herself, that she didn't need any coffee, blah blah blah. Thing is, I have told her SEVERAL times that it doesn't bug me to help support her and the kids, that it's my pleasure, and that I view the money I make as OURS - not mine. And NEVER have I made any mention of the fact that it's ME who really supports the family - it all comes from her head.
Being completely frustrated, I asked her if she would like me to quit my job and work at Taco Bell so she could make more than me - if that would make her feel better. And in the way that so many women seem to be so good at, she seemed almost incredulous, as if the answer was "yes, that would make me feel better" - knowing that would lower all of our standard of living. Then, in another classic twist, she said, "Well, if it would make YOU feel better, I would support it." ????? At that point, I pretty much gave up, and decided that instead of going on date night, I was going to into bed and end the night.
I told her I didn't feel well and was going to bed. She followed me into the room, we started arguing, and I just BLEW : I was not going to be talked over again. No, I yelled louder than I have ever yelled in my life. And I yelled about Tessi and the fact that she couldn't find it in herself to go to school; I yelled about the fact that I had been abused when I was a kid, yet I still went to work every day; I yelled about the fact that I make too much money for Debbie, and too little for Tessi; I yelled saying that I was going to leave, that everyone would be better if I blew my brains out; I yelled that she could leave and take Tessi, the dog and everyone else with her; I SCREAMED about everything. And when I was done, I felt like I had expended every amount of energy in my body. Surprisingly, Debbie came up and actually hugged me and said she loved me - the most supportive thing she has done yet. Then, I laid down and went to bed.
When she came into bed, she was distant and seemed pretty much like she didn't want to touch me or me to touch her. I asked her if she would prefer that I didn't touch her, and she said "I didn't say that." Of course she didn't. But her body language sure did. It was a crummy night of sleep, and I woke up this morning extremely tired, wondering if I would even be able to make it to work. Alas, I did, and her I sit writing this. I just called Diana to see if I could make an appointment and fate would have it that the only time she has available this week is tomorrow at 4:30. Thing is, I made an appointment for Tessi to see a counselor tomorrow at 5pm, so that's not going to work for me. I guess this week, I am just going to have to tough it out.
Last night, I wasn't quite as suicidal as I have been in the past (like in my last post), but I sure was wishing for respite. I am just so tired. It seems like I spend my whole life pushing : pushing Tessi to go to school, pushing Debbie to accept the fact that I enjoy providing, pushing Debbie to accept that it's ok for her to join Weight Watchers, that we CAN afford it (that was another point of contention last night), pushing Cooper to stop peeing on the floor; pushing pushing pushign. I just don't want to push anymore. I'm tired.
So again, I offer up my plea for the asteroid to hit; again I beseech God or whoever to end this insanity that is my life, in SOBRIETY no less! Hell, I may as WELL be getting high right now, as unmanageable, erratic and crazy as my life is. I sometimes wonder if being sober is all it's cracked up to be right now.
But I will stay sober. I will stay at work and finish out the day. I will do what I am "supposed" to do, what I am expected to do, if for no other reason than I don't want the guilt of not doing it, and I want to be able to say "See! I'm all screwed up and I still carried on!" Ahhh yes, that good ol' stubborn pride. Nice to know that it's good for something.
But that's not to say that I still don't think about just running away. In fact, last night, that's where my thoughts were instead of suicide - thinking of going away to the mountains and just sitting on a mountaintop and waiting to die, starving myself to death. For some reason, it just sounded like the right thing to do. And who knows - if things keep up, if this cycle keeps going the way it is, with each successive blowup getting worse than the one before, it might not be long til that mountaintop finds me.
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