I went to the hairdresser today. Even though I’m so tired and drained. I had to sit in front of the unforgiving salon mirror. See my tired and fat reflection in the strong lights, the staff all skinny and trendy around me. The frumpy, awkward old woman with the bad hair.
The medication is obviously peaking now. I have these weird periods where my brain feels a bit drunk. I feel a little less in control and everything seems to be in slow motion. My tongue feels thick and heavy, so words come out awkwardly. I worry I sound like I’m slurring.
S and I had an argument via text today, I almost broke down sobbing in the salon. How can he be so cold after a long time together? I am astounded by his basic lack of respect. He is bordering rude. I can’t even talk to him AT ALL anymore.
I emailed my parents. We’ve been estranged for so long. I’m disappointed that they didn’t make an effort to contact me. If any of my kids and I had a ‘falling out’ I would camp outside their front door. And what’s even more annoying is that the reasons for our estrangement will never be discussed. It’s all ‘water under a bridge’ – why would we discuss the bad things out loud? To talk about upsetting things is just a silly waste of energy and the past can’t be changed. and all of those clichés.
I’ve tried to talk directly with them of course. But it’s no good and that’s what caused this cessation of communication. They still live in the 1950s and they will never change. Some of the things my parents have said and done is unforgivable. However, I decided to reach out. I updated them on the last year. The basics, my separation, the kids, my study. Mum replied quickly to say I’d made their day. That was nice.
cleverly she refrained from ‘jokey’ digs, or put downs. She didn’t blame me for the marriage break down, and she didn’t immediately blame me for my motorbike accident in Cambodia. Believe me, after my car accident, they were full of accusatory comments before they even knew the facts when I was hospital years ago and desperate to speak to them for comfort. She kept it light, friendly. I appreciated the tone. I didn’t want advice or guidance. Just an acknowledgment – which is exactly what I got. I’m not expecting that they’ve changed. They’re in their late 60s/early 70s now, and very stuck in their ways . Nothing is going to change.
I feel better for contacting them though. Although I swore I wouldn’t bother or set myself up for hurt, I decided to break my own rule.
It has brought some memories up, I won’t deny and it’s not comfortable. But I will work through that with my therapist I expect, whom I havent seen for a while again.
Tomorrow I see my psychiatrist to discuss the medication. I’m anxious about that. I’m anxious about everything.
Not. Good. Times.