Who am I? What am I?

My dearest friend,

I have written volumes about what our friendship means to me and where I would be if we'd never met.  I feel like I owe you a debt that can never be repaid.  But …..

Something has happened.  I have theories, but they all make me sad.  I just need to know the truth. Where to begin, or rather, where to begin without babbling incoherently.

We always said that our friendship was not based on the chorus and if it were to disappear, we would not be affected because we have so many other similar interests.  Then I retired from the Board.  You stopped communicating to me about anything chorus-related unless I initiated the discussion or you wanted a favor from me.  Turns out a lot of our conversations used to be about the chorus.  Many more than I realized until those conversations stopped.

My mental stability - or lack thereof - used to be a frequent topic of conversation.  When I finally got help and started taking an antidepressant, things leveled off.  I stopped having fits of anger and bouts of the blues.  I feel incredibly lucky.  My days and nights are calm.  Things that used to make me nuts have little effect on me these days.  But.... where is my friend, my "therapist", my sounding board, my rock?  I have not stopped wanting you in my life as my best friend simply because I don't have to lean on you like some psychotic basket case.

The "Wall".  A few years ago, your family was in crisis.  Your granddaughter was hospitalized with an undiagnosed and scary illness.  Being that we were best friends, my instinct was to help in any way possible.  But it was like a wall had been pulled down around all of you.  The rest of the, world, myself included, were on the outside and there was no looking in.  I was frozen out for months.  I did my best to understand and try not to focus on myself, but I was still in the grip of my emotional instability and complete lack of self esteem.  Those months seemed like an eternity.  Last year I finally tried to discuss it with you.  You told me that you'd blocked that year out.  We were interrupted, you said we needed to finish the talk another time, soon.  It never happened.  Now your husband has had a health scare.  I love your husband, I care about his health.  But the Wall is up again.  I'm not totally inexperienced.  When your spouse,  a man in his late 30's, is diagnosed with atrial fibrillation and the experts don't know how to treat him "because of his age" and nothing they try works, you get a little worried.   I remember being so grateful that I had a friend at work that was willing to allow me to unload on her.  You internalize things and are a private person. I get that. But I'm your best friend, aren't I?  There was a time in our history when you did literally cry on my shoulder.  I'm trying to understand, but I'm not having a lot of success.

Back to the truth.  What happened to us?  Is it that I'm not on the Board anymore?  Has my mental stability made me uninteresting?  Has it taken me off your priority list?  I'm ashamed to admit that a few years ago, I might have manufactured an "emergency" in order to get your attention.  Right now, I guess I like myself too much to stoop that low.

How does all of this make me feel?  Well, I feel like a toy that you keep on a shelf in the closet and bring out when you have that rare few hours of down time that you need to fill with something.  I love being an "Aunt" to your grandchildren and wouldn't trade it for anything, but family parties can't take the place of lunches, coffee or movies.   We can't talk at a birthday party the way we can when we're alone.  I feel like it's all about what's important to you.  In your brilliant, compartmentalized brain, where am I?  Am I in a compartment in the way back corner?  Or have I been purged altogether?

I just want to know the truth.  Maybe you don't even know it yourself.  I'm holding on to the belief that this is all coming from your subconscious and you don't realize any of this.  But really... I want the real truth.  Am I really your best friend still?   Or am I now one of those friends that you have to remember to get together with occasionally so that we can "get coffee and catch up"?   If that's what it is now, I'd rather just know and deal with it.

But, I just really hope that it's not.  That's all.

Love you always, no matter what.

TR

Catching Up

Hey!  Wow, it's been a while, right?  What can I say, when you get the urge to blog , you need to follow it.

A lot has changed since my last post, but in some ways, nothing has changed. That's why I'm at this place here..  I've lost the emotional anxiety that made me so needy and moody.  It was and still is such a relief.  The funny (or not so funny) thing is that there are still times that people are afraid to tell me things that they think will set me off.  When that happens, I think "man, why did anyone want anything to do with me?"

I shed my routine of some long-standing responsibilities that had become painful baggage. I took some serious me time for about six months and decided to challenge myself vocally by joining a philhamonic chorus.

I guess I thought I had things all figured out finally.  Well, you know, all actions have consequences.  I've been taking an antidepressant for going on two years, and there are times when I feel like whatever spark I had to my personality has vanished.  I've written pages and pages about my lack of friendships and lack of social life.  I guess I assumed that my moodiness and anxiety were such major turn-offs that the "new me" would be able to  at least improve my social  issues a teeny bit.  I was wrong.  Now, not only do I have no social life, I am also extremely conflicted about whether or not I even give a damn.  My motivation to do something about it is pretty much nonexistent because if I'm still not interesting enough for people to notice, what more can I possibly do?

Up to now, I've been ok.  But recently I started having strange, disturbing dreams.  A lot of them were so nonsensical that I couldn't describe them to anyone.  Then I had one about my job.  It was bizarre, but it also felt like my subconscious was questioning my career choices and this was its way of making me doubt myself.

Today was a banner day for mental health.  I woke up from a dream in which someone I love dearly had passed away, and I was trying to figure out how I wabs going to get through the rest of my life without this person..  I awoke with a sick, nauseated feeling in my stomach and an ache in my heart.  I had to lay in bed for 10 minutes just trying to recover and convince myself that it wasn't real.  Later today, I had just about recovered when I once again viewed photos on Facebook taken at a party at which I hadn't been invited.  Once again, this was a party that I shouldn't be upset or offended about, a party for someone that I know pretty well and have known for many years but not someone that I was super close with.  But.... given the other attendees.... and given the dozens of similar soirees I've viewed post-celebre, it felt like a stab.  It shouldn't have...which made me feel stupid and childish....but it did
.
I guess I need to come to terms with the fact that I will never be the belle of the ball.  One of my fears has always been that I would die friendless like my mother.  At this point, it is very likely that this will be my reality.   I am reminded of an episode of Sex and the City where Charlotte dates a man who takes antidepressants that have made him impotent.   When she asks him if he would ever consider not taking them for a while so that they could have sex, he answers in the negative.  For him, the cure is worth the side effect.  Needless to say, it wasn't for her.  LOL.   I couldn't cultivate a social life when I was a higher-energy, sparky moody rollercoaster, and I can't cultivate a social life now that I'm calm and thoughtful.  At least I'm not having anxiety attacks and meltdowns over the situation.   The dreams need to stop, though.  I'm almost afraid to close my eyes tonight.

I don't think I'll ever stop wondering though..... do we really have ultimate control over our true reality?

To Drug or Not to Drug

Ten months ago, I finally decided that I'd had enough of the emotional ups and downs of my daily life.   I was tired of having even the slightest disappointment send me into tears and depression.  I was tired of my husband manipulating me like a yo-yo.   I could tell myself a million times that he wasn't any more in control than I was, but it didn't save me from these episodes that washed over me without warning at any time of the day.

I don't remember what finally made me take action, but I found myself whispering into my cell phone at work to my doctor that I needed help ... soon.   I was initially prescribed a daily dose of 10mg of Lexapro.   Three weeks into the regime, I began to feel a real difference, a calm.  I felt much more rational and in control.   Still,  the emotional episodes continued - although much less frequently. After two visits to a therapist, we agreed to up my dosage to 20mg a day of Lexapro.

Now life got reeeeeallllly calm.    I had to be careful not to take it too close to bedtime or  I would be practically comatose when the alarm went off the next morning.   Eventually, my body adjusted.  This seemed like a miracle pill.   Literally nothing phased me.   I had been struggling to see my future.   Unsure of the state of my marriage and with our only child living on the other side of the state, the second half of my life stretched ahead of me like an empty void.   Now I could calmly analyze the things in my life that weren't working and decide on an action.   I switched jobs, switched church choirs and took a leave from my other chorus.

With all of these positive changes accomplished, I should be feeling terrific, right?  Not so fast.  Suddenly, I feel too calm.   Things that used to move me no longer do.   It seems that the happy, "good" emotions are just as quick to vanish as the bad ones.   I retired from the Board of my chorus after serving for 14 years of the good, the bad and the ugly.  I was walking away from the thing that brought my best friend into my life.   I expected to be in tears when the end came.   So, I wouldn't go as far as to say that I felt nothing, but I just couldn't muster up the feelings that I should have been feeling.  I can't even think of the words to describe my feelings - relief, mostly, that the season was over.   The idea that I wasn't more moved was disturbing to me.  I started having doubts about my miracle pill.

10mg.... 20mg........    how about 15mg?   I dug up my handy dandy little pill cutter and went to work.  Should I have called my therapist?  Probably, but I'm guessing she would have told me to try exactly what I was doing first before making any prescription changes.    I noticed a different about a week after making the change.  Someone at my new job told me about some tragedies that had happened to her in the past year, and I actually felt tears welling up in my eyes.   Not the uncontrollable ones that would have run down my face pre-Lexapro, just some welcome wetness.   Thank God!   My libido resurfaced (another Thank God!).  

Not so fast..... there's ALWAYS a down side.   Someone forgot to remind my brain that I was living with the emotional equivalent of a hormonal teenager.  Someone forgot to remind my brain that my best friend is one of the most un-retired retired people on earth who also happens to be 20 years older than me.     When I was taking 20mg of Lexapro, being alone didn't seem so bad.    I could hang with the cats all day, all weekend and be perfectly fine.

So now the dilemma.   Face my demons and hope that 15mg helps me figure out a real solution?  Or jump back to 20mg so that  I don't have to face the fact that I am a #1 priority for absolutely nobody within a 500 mile radius of me.    I'm tired of playing second fiddle to a car.   It seems I'm the right model year for my spouse...now if only I had 4 wheels instead of 2 feet.    As for my best friend...her priorities are in line - home and family first.   We established a while ago that I am a high maintenance friend, which explains a lot of why she's the only one I've got.

Maybe I need to go back to the therapist.  I need to do some thinking, I guess.   One thing I know for sure.   Nothing is ever as easy as it looks at first.   And happiness can't be found in a pill.

Life in the Other World

"Hi there!  How was your day, today?"

"Well, Mom, you won't believe this, but __________."
<conversation continues....>

"Maybe we can all see the new _____ movie this weekend?"
"Sure!   Talk to you tomorrow."
"Ok.  Bye!  Love you"
"Love you too"


That's how I see my life in that world where my daughter lives in Western New York.   Unfortunately, my real world does not resemble this in any way, shape or form.   Instead, we see each other sporadically for concentrated periods of time during which we attempt to cram weeks or months of conversation into 2 days.  What happens next is that uncomfortable phenomenon that happens at the end of vacations where nobody can think of one more blessed thing to say to one another, but we feel like we have to keep talking while we have the chance.

This is not to be confused with the silence that happens when you see each other all the time and are just comfortable enough with each other that words aren't really necessary.   This is the "I really need to get away from here because my brain hurts from trying to think of something to say" situation.

<Sigh>

I miss the everyday stuff.     Occasional dinners or brunches instead of gorging ourselves for 2 days straight.  Picking things up for each other at the store.  Pet-sitting.  Shopping.

Well, this may be the world's shortest blog post, but it's really all I have to say about this right now.  Everyone needs a dream, right?

Throwing in the Towel

Well, readers....

You're read my ramblings and aborted attempts to help myself. You've read about my relationships, all few of them. People who mean the world to me, but somehow I keep messing up with them whether I try hard or just try to go with the flow. 

I've tried yoga

I've tried meditation 

I've tried extreme exercise and dieting. 

I've tried blogging-obviously.

I've tried the old "do what makes me happy and don't worry about anyone else" routine. 

I've tried turning myself inside out in an attempt to make people want me (or want me more than they already do). 

I've tried to get myself involved more in activities hoping that something magical would happen. That I'd suddenly become an "It Girl". 

I'm tired. And I just feel like a big ball of resentment and anger. This is a dangerous combination.  It makes me say and do stupid things.

Is there really such a thing as unconditional love and support between anyone other than parents and children?  It doesn't feel like it right now.  Is there anyone out there who has enough faith in me to  just say "you're in your stupid place right now, aren't you?" instead of reacting with anger when I'm in my stupid place?  Is it fair to even expect anyone to be able to do that?

Maybe I don't deserve such a person. 

I need professional help.  It has taken me years of flailing around trying to cure  myself to say that.  I've unfairly leaned on other people who I claim to love for too long because I didn't want to admit the truth 

I need a shrink. 

I want to cry but I can't because I'm at work.   Put up the facade and soldier on. But very soon, I need to get help, before I really end up as alone as I feel. God help me. 

Halfway Down a Black Hole, or Halfway to the Top?

It seems like ever since I decided that I was a co-dependent, my existence has been a series of epiphanies strung together by my determination to get through each day in a positive way.  The latest one came last month.  

I think I've written about the struggle in my adult life to find friends....ad nauseum.  I don't think I have high standards.  A few people who might actually want to include me in their group activities would fit the bill just fine.  Maybe a person or two who have some free time that they're looking to fill....  I guess it would be nice if I even shared their basic philosophies of life, but lets not get carried away.  

The fact is, I can't force anyone to want me.   Wow, I just typed that and read it, and it looks really pathetic.  But really, sometimes I feel like one of those older cats or dogs in the cages at the SPCA with the caption above them that reads  "Please give me a forever home.  I might be older but I still have a lot of love to give."   I can't do anything about other peoples' lives, only my own.  Yes, it boils down to this -  the act of not only desiring my company but having time for it can't be forced, and throwing myself into things and being rejected only makes me feel worse.

So, I decided last month that I would just "be".   I decided that I needed to put it into God's hands.   I needed to have hope that God has something in store for me down the road that will fill this hole.  I decided that I needed to involve myself in things that would get me out of the house, but without unrealistic expectations.  "Do it to live in the moment - nothing more, nothing less".   And as for the people I am close to.......   I can't expect more from them than they are willing and able to give.  In my last blog, I mentioned the human relationship food pyramid. It leads to the dinner plate and how much of it should be protein, veggies, etc...   What an interesting intersection with the "plate" as people refer to it as a symbol of their lives.   So, it stands to reason that where I place people on my "plate" usually will not match the position that I  hold on their "plates".   I won't lie - it would be wonderful to be at the center of someone's plate.  Maybe I was at one time.  In the here and now, it doesn't feel like I am.  Mostly, I feel like a side item that's out there in its own dish because it doesn't fit on the plate.   So... word to the wise - if you're the center of someone's universe, don't take it for granted!

I've been mostly ok with this for the past month or so.  I just try to live one day at a time and pull the positives out of whatever happens to be going on at the moment - whether I'm alone or not.  There are days like today where my resolve breaks down and I wonder what the point of my existence is.  I mean, really, what is the point?  What am I here for?   These are the difficult days.   These are the days when I have to power through, take deep breaths and tell myself over and over that God has a plan for me and for how my life will evolve.  I just have to have patience and let it happen.

One thing that seems to crop up almost every day is people lamenting about how summer "flies by," blah blah blah ........ Erie County Fair.......blah blah blah ........back to school.... blah blah blah.    For me, it moves at the speed of wet cement.   In a weird sort of way .... since summer is supposed to be so wonderful ..........  I guess that makes me lucky.

One Again .....and Control

As a follow up to my most recent post, allow me to say that I had hoped that things were improving.  In a way, I think they are. But I wish I felt better about it. 

I have no control over others. I can't force people to make me a priority in their lives or invite me places or even remember that I exist. This includes the people closest to me.  It's nobody's fault. Everyone is just living their own life as best they can. But when a child that I care about very much hugs me and tells me that she "hasn't seen me in forever", how do I respond without letting her see into my soul. Because I don't think anyone in their right mind wants to see into my soul right now.  So I put on my adult face.  Smile. Agree and change the subject.  Because I have no control over this. Victory.  Right?

Acknowledging this really should be some sort of victory ....yes?    I guess it is. It doesn't feel like a victory, but then I guess not all victories are meant to feel good. 

What this victory means to me right now is that I'm back to trying to figure out my purpose in life, knowing that I may have to do it basically alone. The black hole in front of me is still there.  My job is to figure out what's in there waiting for me. 

Maybe if I concentrate on this instead of obsessing over the "alone" part, I'll be able to finally figure it out.  I'm only 52 years old, but at times I feel like I've already become my mother.  Even she had a better social life than this at age 52.  Maybe, maybe, maybe.  Maybe some day cows will fly. 

I'm developing a theory in my head that our relationships are like the food pyramid.  And each person's relationship "plate" is unique and some plates are much more complex than others. I know where people are on my plate. But I'm never really sure where I am on theirs. And I have no control over where I am on theirs. And I never will.  We eat to nourish our bodies. Relationships nourish our souls.  I am now at a stage in life where I am more in control of my physical nourishment than I ever have been before.  The other..... no control.  Irony.