Sometimes you keep getting smacked in the face and you just have to stop and take stock of what’s going on in your life and at least acknowledge it so you can see what you’re up against.
I think that since the dad debacle I’ve been distracting myself with various coping mechanisms, but coping doesn’t really get at the core issues wreaking havoc on my life.
As a bit of an update, my dad never ever called, his wife never ever responded. In a strange turn of events, his stepdaughter reached out via social media after decades with some tripe about missing me and loving me. I called BS politely because I haven’t seen her since I was 12 years old and you can’t love someone you haven’t spoken to in over 30 years and don’t even know. She had the audacity to tell me she asks my father about me and I called BS again because he knows less about me than my postman does. She made excuses and I was not interested in hearing them. Then a few days later one of my half-sisters (someone else I don’t know) contacted me, also via social media. The biggest twist of this event was that she said she got my information from my father and his wife. Oh so they are capable of communicating? My father simply chose not to return my call. Excellent!
I am still staggered at how much he was able to hurt me without uttering one word to me at all, I truly am. I haven’t even begun to deal with this issue and I feel it on a daily basis like a stone in my chest.
The death of my therapist suddenly last year from cancer is another blow that I hadn’t realized was eating away at me. A large reason that it’s so troubling is that I was not allowed to talk about her death to anyone I knew (except my new therapist, but I’ll get into that) because of the nature of our relationship and because people are idiots. The day I found out she had passed, actually minutes afterward, I had someplace to be. I told the person I was meeting that my therapist had died and I got a “look”. The look was full of judgment for me not only being in therapy but being upset that my therapist had died. The attitude of the looker clearly said that I had no right to grieve such an insignificant event. I think that reaction dictated the road the rest of my grief took and part of that is definitely on me for letting it happen but people are also stupid when it comes to finding out that someone they know is in therapy. Most of my “friends” don’t get being in therapy in the first place and certainly wouldn’t have gotten being grieved over the loss of someone who’s helped you cope and start to heal for almost 15 years. So I bottled my grief up and spoke about her to no one, even my husband.
Of course I had a new therapist who happened to have been good friends of my old therapist and I could talk to her about J but it felt wrong somehow. I felt like I would be bringing up this awesome person over and over and over to this new person and it wouldn’t be nice. Again, I bottled things up. This weighs on me as well because J’s loss was a powerful blow and I haven’t dealt with it at all.
Being diagnosed last year with an autoimmune disease was difficult even though it was a relief to finally be taken seriously after years of having a doctor who did less than nothing about my symptoms. I’ve been experiencing some neurological issues though and it’s adding stress because I don’t know what’s going on yet.
My recent bout with bipolar depression and the close call with hospitalization was awesome and reminded me that bipolar is in the title of this blog for a reason.
Let’s not forget the lovely sexual abuse. I had a doozy of a week a while ago which I will likely blog about but it was basically trigger-palooza for me and I’m surprised I didn’t lose it and scream my head off.
I still miss my mom and yes I still know how crazy that sounds. Her brother still never talks to me and I don’t know why. My stepfather hasn’t spoken to me in at least six months besides a group email alerting a few of us to his new address. I miss my mom…did I say that already? Yeah I did.I’m insane, I know.
I’ve been walking that dangerous line with food. It snuck up on me without me really noticing it and then when I finally did notice it, I didn’t want to fight it. I am fighting it a bit because I don’t really want to go back to having an eating disorder again but part of me wants to give in because of how it makes me feel.
I went to the doctor today and something else may be wrong with me…I’ll know more tomorrow hence the posting tonight because I’m just done right now.
I live in my head because it’s safer in there and the people in there don’t hurt me.
I’m probably forgetting something but this has been long enough already. I plan on writing a letter to my dad that will not be mailed (or maybe it will) to help process my feelings.I need to tell my therapist about the food issue so that’s another plan. The other stuff…I don’t know. This weekend is busy so I’ll see where I am afterwards when I can breathe a bit.