Mud slinging

Last week was pretty full on. In amongst my long days and evening classes a migraine hit me, not quite rendering me bed ridden, with a more unusual ebb and flow of pain, so I continued through the pain.

 In a previous blog I talked about a clash I’d had with a lecturer at a previous university and printed our email exchange. I learnt he’d died suddenly of a stroke. Despite our clash, I was saddened to hear this. I know he had a great many friends and he left behind his children. So a timely reminder to appreciate loved ones and know that we’re all on borrowed time. Rest in peace, Bruce.

I’ve been bumbling through study, feeling overwhelmed but I imagine most people are feeling that way at the moment. Concentration is quite an issue for me, not helped admittedly by the migraine. And trying to balance quality time with my children, cleaning the house and my mood. I’d say I’m operating just below baseline. Always on the verge of tears, a feeling of despair, expecting the worst. Not feeling at peace with myself. My internal monologue stays strong, I look in the mirror-I’m so fat and ugly, my clothes look terrible on me, of course I don’t understand uni work – I’m too stupid, I’m letting the kids down, I’m a terrible mother, no wonder S doesn’t love me, I’m repulsive. I wonder how much of this is normal and how much is the illness. Is it the illness or is it me? If on the rare occasion my mind is quiet or I feel pleased about something, a memory pops into my head, something grotesque, something that makes me feel uneasy, grimy, and intrinsically bad. Never a good memory! I’m stuck in an endless cycle of self bashing and self loathing. Am I humble or completely fucked up?! If I was still in contact with my parents, they’d just vocalise what I already think of myself. So that must mean it’s true. Right?

I dropped the kids off on Sunday so I could head to the monthly support group. admittedly I was already tense. They’ve managed to eat through all my food, my eldest daughter managed to leave considerable mess, and I’d hardly slept. I was anxious that my budget is fucked again. Anxious about the group, anxious about my hospital appointment. When I dropped them off, S was querying the uniform, I responded flippantly, not having time and then he patronised me which made me scream. I don’t know if he does it on purpose to sound like my parents, I’ve accused him of gas lighting in the past. He knows how to rile me up, I shout and then he acts bewildered, so I feel crazy. Sometimes I just want some kindness, sometimes I just wish he’d rather not speak than trying to get the last word in. It’s almost like he gets off on seeing me low and miserable. He certainly doesn’t make it easier.

Group was pretty emotional. A woman has found out her 21 year old daughter has 1-4 years of life left. She sobbed sadly, almost wailing – and she’s a woman that has never cried before. Another woman talked about how she was forced to torture animals and abuse other girls. It was all confronting stuff. I just listened, not feeling comfortable to express my own feelings. The woman that talks all the time, over other people and makes herself sound worse than anyone else, ever, dominated the group as group as usual. To the annoyance of everyone else. I wondered why I even bothered going. I initially found solace and solidarity with the other survivors, but I just found it uncomfortable, awkward.

Obviously that’s my issue, it’s no one else’s fault. I just prefer to be alone at the moment. 

My hospital appointment is tomorrow. This is for the upper GI. Last time I had it done years ago the sedative didn’t work, I panicked so much the nurses ended up holding me down and everyone was very unsympathetic. It’s a different hospital, and this time I’ll be honest about the PTSD. But I know it won’t be pleasant. If they drug me enough I’ll have to leave my car there and get a taxi home. I have no inclination to ask anyone to come with me. I just want to do it alone. There’s no pressure to pretend everything is ok for their sake. I can be anxious and scared, angry and cry, and be alone. No one to answer to. Back in the day, S would have been my person. He would know exactly what to expect and what to say and when to be quiet, but he’s no longer my best friend, and I’m no longer his concern.

Once I get Tuesday out of the way I can focus on my in class tests during the week. So much to do and preparation to get through. Even my sign language class I need to prepare for a debate on cochlear implants. 

And it’s S’s birthday on Wednesday, so I need to make sure I have things ready for the kids to give him on a meagre budget and on time too. He’s previously accused me of not caring about his birthday which simply isn’t true and I don’t recall a time I haven’t got him a gift. But resentment runs deep for him.

I’m so damn tired, I feel like I’m swimming through mud at the moment.

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