I know that my blog posts have been a bit of a downer of late, and I apologize heartily for that, but my life has been a bit of a downer lately. And blogging is supposed to deal with exploring our lives through the written word, so...
I come from a long line of warrior women who are also fiercely private about their personal lives. When I came out of the hospital the first time, and was told to continue therapy, I got a lot of "You are going to share your personal thoughts and our family secrets with a stranger?" Well, yeah, because sharing them with you, has gone so well for me, that I now feel I can share with others. Not. They finally adjusted to the idea of therapy last year...? The first conversations took place in 1996, after a suicide attempt, and a five day mandatory vacation at the mental facility of my choice.
Part of the problem, besides the fact that I speak one language and they speak another, is that they seldom hear all of what I say to them. They pick the parts they can deal with and pretend the rest was never said. They will occasionally try to chalk my remembering certain conversations up to my various mental issues. I have spent a great part of my life, just staring at them in wonder, trying to figure out how they could be my Grandmother's children. She heard every word someone said and she would think before she spoke and respond as though she heard every word, not just the ones she liked. Her children, even though, they are all English Majors at one stage or another of their college experiences, do not hear many of the words spoken to them and seem not to understand many others.
A prime example: I said to my aunt on the phone the other day, "I am going to be cutting it close this month, so we need to be careful." we were talking about my finances, she is my payee. "She says okay, make sure you record any purchases you make with the card." I assured her I would and asked her to do the same, so I would know what I was working with at all times. Because in the past she has managed to overdraw my account, which is attached to her Overdraft Protection, then she wanted me to pay her back for the overture, which she caused by not checking my balance before deciding to make a purchase. I put a table on layaway and told her that I would have to make a payment later in the month, she said okay. Then my doctor prescribed a medicine that is not on my formulary and instead of asking me if I could pay six times my copay for the med, she just got it. Then was baffled when I was upset with her. I reminded her of our earlier conversation and she said she didn't think it had to deal with medicines. Huh? There is no other fund for medicine, there is just one fund and six times my copay was not figured into the budget. She was sorry, but finding a way to fix the difference was still my problem and getting me approved for the med, is also my problem. I ended up borrowing money from my father. Then she asks me if I am going to be able to pay her any of the money she says I owe her from when she overdrew my account. About this time, I figure that my family kidnapped me from visiting space aliens.
I have sat down and explained to her several times that I have severe agoraphobia. I gave her information on the condition and we discussed the information. So, seven years later, why am I still having to explain why I can not do something? Well, because words come out of my mouth, but no one listens. I have been practically homebound since the theatre shootings in July, here in Colorado. So, under the best of circumstances going out of my apartment, down to another floor, and turning my back to the door, while standing in front of an open window to do my laundry would be rough. Now, it is not even imaginable.
I haven't done laundry since, the week before the shooting, (yes, I have that many pairs of underwear,lol!). I was going to gather my small reserve of courage and suck it in and do my laundry yesterday, but...
When I was startled awake by some noise outside, I had a seizure, which is known to happen when I am too stressed out. Then I had a fight with my cat, because it was 2am and I wanted to try for more sleep, she wanted me to get up, and it got ugly. I in trying to not harm my beloved furbaby, decided to do my exercises. I put the tape in, am starting to mellow out and my cat comes over and lies down right under where I need to put my foot and will not move. I pushed her back a little and went on, she moved back, and when I didn't stop working out to pet her, she attacked my foot and split it open. (I worked in the medical field for 20 years and can handle severed limbs without breaking a sweat, let me see my own blood going anywhere but into a lab tube and I get dizzy and pass out.) I looked down at my foot and saw little bubbles of blood beginning to escape from the slice. The room spun and everything went gray. I managed to call my mother and she started my way. While waiting, I had another seizure, passed out and was coming to, when my mother comes in and starts yelling at my cat. The cat came flying to me for protection. My mother came after her, she thought I was in danger so she swung at my mother. Who got angrier. I started to go out again, so I told my cat to go under the futon and stay there, then I passed out. I came to, to my mother bandaging my foot and my cat fussing from under the safety of the futon. My mother finally went home, still fussing about how if my cat hurts me she is going to make the cat disappear. I got my cat settled down, then I limped into the kitchen to clean up from chili making night. This is all before 11am. My aunt called to see if I still needed my books picked up from the library. I told her yes, please and asked what time she was coming.
She got this tone in her voice, "Why?" she asked in suspicion.
"I just wanted to know, if you would run through the drive through before you come, you drive past several, something from any one would be alright."
"You don't have food there you can cook?"
"I have chili, which gave me heartburn last night, and I do not want anymore yet. Other than that no."
"It must be nice to decide that you do not feel like eating the food you have and just have other food brought to you." Heavy sigh. "Where do you want it from?"
"Good Times, please."
"You get the #2, right?"
"I should be there in about an hour or so, since you can not eat something there."
At this point, I told her about my morning and how I was still dizzy and felt off from the seizures and my foot hurt.
"Oh. Well, like I said, in about an hour." Then she said goodbye and hung up.
She arrived in about an hour with food for me and food for her, that she bought with my card. I usually do not mind and I do not ask for the money back because she did bring me food. However, I am running short this month. She knows this and was offended that I didn't say she didn't have to pay me back. The only reason I can afford the burger in the first place is because the way I fixed the problem, was to borrow money from my father, which my aunt doesn't know. While we are eating, she asks me why I haven't done my laundry. I remind her of the morning I had. When we are done eating I went to stand up and almost went out again. She has to help me to bed, then asks me why I am still wearing the same pajamas from the other night when she was over. I remind her of my laundry situation. She tells me she doesn't have time to help and runs down a list of the things she already has to do for me, which I didn't even ask about or ask her to do the laundry. Then she leaves. I escape into sleep.
When I wake up, the things I did ask her to do before she left, are not done. I just shake my head and go on with my afternoon.
Now, this morning I have a doctor's appointment. I have been up since 2 in the morning trying to convince myself I can do this. My stomach is upset. My hands are shaking and my neck and shoulders are hard enough to break diamonds on. And I know that the doctor's office will get why I do not want to come in. However, my aunt, will fuss at me. So, here I sit, getting more and more tense, my mouth going dry, my breathing labored and my heart racing, trying to decide which one will be less traumatic: going out to the doctor for a routine med check or dealing with my aunt. I will let you decide which one you think is going to be more stressful.
Sorry for the rant. But words come out of my mouth....I really wonder if anyone listens.