Rant

Sometimes you think that after 15 years in therapy you're over something. Apparently I'm not. After all this stress of getting into grad school, all I've gotten is shit from my family. Nothing but, "This is a bad idea," and "now you'll never get a man." Honestly? I could give a shit about getting a man. And the only reason they see it's a bad idea is that I am going into debt. So then help me!

They all have money, for Christ's sake. My family is by no means poor. But they all said no without me even asking. And that's a slap. I have never asked for anything from them in my life, and all I've done is given. I take their drunken phone calls, I listen to their pity parties. I picked my mother up off the bloodied bathroom floor more times than I can count, and I never asked for a thing in return. And what do I get? Shit from them.

Fuck them. I don't need their help, or support. And the only one who is being logical about all this? Mom. Crazy-ass mom is sitting down with me and going over budgets and thinking about options. Crazy mom offered me her last $200 out of SSI. Like Jennifer pointed out, she owes me at least support.

But I feel like an ass for feeling "owed." I did it all out of love and my own personal need to sacrifice for my family. But why can't they just be supportive?

Happy Mother's Day

There were so many mom issues brought up in the meetings today. Everyone either feels failed by, or failed their moms. It's amazing what power the person who carried us can still have over us, for the rest of our lives. What an amazing burden to put on someone! I've always believed that my mom is human, and defective, and can make mistakes. She tried as hard as she could to do a good job, and when she couldn't try anymore she at least made sure she had married a partner who could.

I don't know how I feel about my mom. I mean, I can sit here and say I love her, and I do because she's my mom, but I have massive resentments still. See, even though I know she's human and fallible doesn't mean I can't still resent the things she did. I know she often had no control, because of her mental illness and her own upbringing, but it's hard to forgive someone who abandoned you. Yes, she's a big part of my life even now, but I resent her a lot.

My dad always says love is built on trust. I don't trust her. I was always waiting for that other shoe to drop - for her to really lose it. There have been times I've plotted to kill her, and times she's almost killed me. Death has always been a constant in our relationship. I look at her scarred wrists and wonder, what if she had succeeded one of those times? What if she wasn't here anymore? Could I forgive her then, or would I be even more resentful?

What's nice is after 15 years of therapy I can say it wasn't about me. She didn't "do that to me," she just did things and they had ripple effects. She was never out to get me when she was hurting herself.

I still worry that she's going to kill herself, and it's been 6 years since she last tried. I still think that when she doesn't call she must be dead. Sometimes I walk up to her apartment half expecting it to be splattered in blood. It's happened before. I don't think I can ever trust her. But love? I think I can love her. I'm learning.

Wakey wakey

It's nice that both my parents have insomnia. I hung out with my dad till 4, and now my mom is up. She's coming over to take me to breakfast. I'm going to talk to her some more about this will thing. It's complicated! I didn't realize how much until I started thinking about all my assets and passwords and stuff. If I'm supposed to plan it like my parents are both deceased, then who in the world gets my money? I'm not rich, by any sense of the word, but I'm not stupid with money. I have investments. And so far no children. Would I want it to go to charity? To family? If so, who or what?

This is best discussed over fried potatoes.

Write me in

What's too much to ask of a friend?

So, there's a long story, but basically my mom said I need to set up a will and power of attorney in case she and my dad are dead and I become incapacitated. It's a long stretch (knock on wood) but it could happen. There's some family money that I would need to have administered. She said, think of someone in your age group who you trust, would trust with your life and your money. There are only two people I can think of: my cousin Roger, and Adam.

My cousin has two small kids and I don't know if he would be willing to take on something like that. I would like to ask him, though. He's the most responsible adult I know, and he has a conscience that wouldn't let him do wrong even in the most tempting situations. I know he would be responsible and go by my wishes.

And then there's Adam. I trust him with my life, and I think if someone had to pull the plug on me he could do it (with a lot of hand wringing). He is my best friend, but what is too much to ask of a friend? That's a lot of responsibility. And he knows my family. He would have to deal with them around the money issue. I should just leave it all to him. That would be hilarious.

Anyway, I have to come up with something soon (she said). I want to talk to the family lawyer. I need to figure it all out, like who gets what of my grandparents in the event of my and my moms death. I mentioned writing a will to my dad and he started talking about all his books and what I should do if he dies. Ugh. I hope he never dies. One, because I love him, and two, because it would be a giant pain in the ass.

I hate death. But it's important to think of these things. I know Andrea is going to take the dog - she made that clear before - and Jennifer said she'd serve as dog backup. Hopefully I'll outlive that little bugger.

Insomnia preview

It's insomnia night! We didn't have one last week, which was odd, but I was traveling and sometimes that helps me sleep. It seems to be Mondays or Tuesdays lately, not that I'm that great at knowing what day it is anymore. Maybe it's just manic day - I didn't nap today, though I didn't get up till 10am. I didn't really do anything except go to the doctor and take a shower. Sounds thrilling. My life is so full.

Maybe that's the problem. Maybe I need to do more stuff. No, I do stuff. I went to the wax museum with a friend on Sunday and out to lunch with my mom and step-grandma. We did birthday lunch since it was my mom's birthday last week. She sat there and told the story of my birth, which involves my grandma dying, which I'm sure was weird for my step-grandma to have to sit and listen to. Mom was a little weird at lunch, but not horribly off. I think she's a little manic, but maybe just hypomanic. She was chatty with the waiter and sent me a card. I get a lot of mail when she's hypomanic.

Perhaps I should take another shower and calm down. Get warm. Sucks to go to bed with your hair wet, but I'll just have to get over that. Let's see if it helps.

A bipolar's daughter

I just sat down with my dad to try and think of some of my manic/depressive episodes. "Where did it start?" I wondered aloud. "Well, I think it was after mom got diagnosed. But what's funny is you would be in a bad mood and then I would take you out and you would be fine. It was always only around her."

It was always her. She was always the reason for my moods; she could bring me up or drag me way down. My dad would find me hiding in the closet cowering from her, or we would be 100s of miles away at the beach (and before the cell phone era, this was called disappearing). She would let me sleep in and skip school, or I would run away and hide in the woods. It was always her: my moods were in reaction to her.

So maybe she was diagnosed first, but I remember wanting to go to the psychiatrist when I was 14. I had already been a cutter for a long time, and I was starting to get really "crazy." I can't remember what that felt like, I just remember being worried about myself. Maybe I was really worried about her and just projecting? Maybe I was fine?

Maybe I AM fine. My suicide attempt came after a huge hormonal flux for my body, coupled with a huge amount of alcohol and a shitty life at the time. My next big episode happened when I was unemployed last time, and I tended that with food and copious amounts of alcohol. And this time? I'm unemployed, again, and my situation would make anyone depressed.

Really. Maybe it's all ok? Maybe it's situational? Maybe she's the one with the disorder and I've just got "symptoms" that show up in times of crisis?

My first date

Reverb today asks, what central story is at the core of you. My core, eh? I have a few stories that have defined my life, but none more than another moment in time.

It was the night of my first official date. Jay was taking me to the movies, and to dinner. I was 15, and so excited to be let out "alone" with him. Of course, his dad would accompany us everywhere, but that didn't matter. We were still together, still almost alone in public. We could walk together and hold hands, kiss in the movie theater, just chat over dinner. I was madly in love for the first time, and ready to share my first date with him.

His dad came in the red van and opened the door for me. Out stepped Jay with a bright red rose in hand, all dressed to the nines. I had on my best dress, and he escorted me to the car, assuring my dad that I would be back before 9.

I don't remember any of the date, but I do remember them dropping me off later to an empty house. No car was in the driveway, and the house was dark. Where could my parents have gone this late? I knew something must be up. Amazingly, I hadn't lost my key that week, and I let myself in the front door. I called out, and then noticed a note on the staircase.

"Took mom to the hospital. Be back for you. Dad."

And I knew. It wasn't just a trip to the hospital. She had no fever, no cold, no broken arm or leg. It was her mind which had gone. What had happened? Why had they left me alone? Why couldn't I be a part of whatever was happening? I sat down on the stairs and wept for the last time in years. How long I sat there, I couldn't tell you, but my dad came in to find me sitting there, and brought me to the car. "Your mom took an overdose. She's ok, but she doesn't want to see anyone." We went anyway, and sat in the waiting room for hours until she changed her mind.

I remember seeing her face; she was sitting up and smiling, but she looked pale, unlike herself. The rest of it fades to black, but that's when I knew everything was different. That I wasn't wrong about how strange things had become at home. I wasn't losing my mind. She was.

Joy to the world, the dog has come

Reverb: What was one of your most joyful ordinary moments this year?

Ordinary? Well, I could say getting cookies in the mail, when Adam came out of the airport, or getting fired, but none of those were ordinary moments. All of them were once in a lifetime, or extraordinary events. But one thing that happened all the time made me especially happy one day.

I had had a bad day at work, as usual. I was feeling like I wanted to scream, or cry, or both. My boss just... well... he was just him. I left work downhearted and walked to my car across four lanes of traffic, in the concrete jungle. I was thinking how I just needed to get away, how I needed a new job, how I was just depressed. I had been depressed for half a year, at least. Just a low level depression, but enough to put me to bed at 8am every night.

I drove down the highway contemplating change. Anything to get out of where I was - to feel better. I thought about going home for a week, or just upright moving somewhere else. I thought about taking a day off and heading for the mountains. I daydreamed all the way home.

But when I walked in the door I was greeted with squeaking and kisses. He leaped into my arms and licked my face, and I was happy again. Just that simple love of a dog made everything else alright. Everything in that moment was joy and love; the love of a little dog.

And now he's over at my mom's, and has really become her dog. It makes me a little sad, and I miss him, but both of them are happy, and that makes me happy. I'm glad I could give her something to love that would love her back in the same way.

So one tiny little dog has caused innumerable joy across my family. Thanks puppy.

Mom

Ok, I am mad at my mom.

"I couldn't stand the pain and emotional distress of a reunion like that again so please understand when I turn down any future invitations. You mean well, I know, but you inflict pain where you do not mean to and I can't allow myself to be hurt again.

I love you very much. I want with all my heart for you to be happy. I wish I could make you happy. Some things we must do on our own and finding happiness is one of those things."

Seriously? She's accusing me of wanting the family to be together again. I'm not a child. I know that's not going to happen. I just hate that she has to do something like that. It makes me not trust her anymore. She's just so freaking crazy. But I get it. It's hard for her. It's trying to be with a family you abandoned.

Damnit. I have a new resentment.

I saw three ships come sailing in on Christmas day....

It was a merry, merry Christmas for me. I hope it was for you, too! It even snowed a little. We're supposed to get more tomorrow, and it's supposed to stick. I'm so happy!

Adam and my mom came over to hang out with my dad's family for Christmas. My mom emailed me later to say it broke her heart to hang out with all those happy people that she was "ripped away from." Come on. She initiated the divorce, it's been 17 years, and my dad only went through with it because we had to commit her and she ran away to Europe and disappeared. What the hell was he supposed to do? I saw how it broke his heart, and she's lucky any of them talk to her. But they're all bigger people than that. They like her, crazy or no. It just bugs the hell out of me. She makes herself the victim, the martyr. Ugh. Gross. Take responsibility for yourself!

Adam and I went to a meeting after dinner, and hung out with one of his friends. He and I went back to his house so he could give me a present. He got me the most awesome present! He knows what I like. I'm wearing a necklace he gave me 7 years ago for Christmas. He noticed, of course. We were walking out the door and he said, "You missed your opportunity," and pointed up. There was some mistletoe. I reached up and kissed him on the cheek, and he pulled me back in under the mistletoe and gave me a long, wonderful kiss.

In the car he said, "I don't want to over analyze that kiss, I mean, I'm in no place to date," blah, blah, blah. I don't know what he's scared of. Getting hurt, I'm sure, but aren't we all afraid of that? Don't we have to take risks? Look at me, yelling at everyone tonight. I'm the Christmas Grinch!

No, really, I'm not upset. I'm happy for the kiss. I really enjoyed it. I love his lips, his kisses. Sigh.

Thanks, Mom

In the past year I've been all over the place. I've been across the world, and across the States. I've been jobless and job-full, and lonely or not. But the one thing I've come to appreciate the most is family. How pat, I know! But really. Without them, I wouldn't have been able to accomplish anything. Especially, my mom.

My mom and I have an interesting relationship. She's bipolar as well, but she's what you would really call nuts. I'm just a little off - I make stupid decisions and get a little kooky, but I've never done a quarter of the things she has.

When I was growing up, it was always "save mom." She would run away to foreign lands, only to end up homeless and then in the local mental hospital. Europe especially doesn't like when you use their systems and you're not part of the Union, so it was off to rescue her and bring her home. Sometimes, she would just wander the streets of the city, usually naked, and get picked up by the police. It was always my duty to rescue her.

But in the past 2 years, she's been stable. So I took a chance. "Mom, will you come out and watch the dog while I'm in Europe?" It was a huge leap of faith for me. Mom would have my car, my dog, my house. Would she burn it down? Would she try to kill herself again and have no one to rescue her? Would she kill my dog? All valid questions 5 years ago. But I let her do it anyway. And you know what? She was fantastic.

Now, she's dog-napped my dog again, and they are having the time of their lives. She's also got my car again, and hasn't crashed it yet (knock on wood). She's living a responsible life. Who would have thunk?

So appreciate I do. I appreciate her taking her meds and becoming the mom I always wanted: the one I don't have to care for, but who will care for me. Thanks mom.

Going deep

It's amazing to be sober. I know I keep saying this, but it's true. Everything is clearer and better.

I've been doing some work on myself lately, in and out of therapy and AA. In therapy we're starting to get to the deeper stuff that really bothers me, instead of just talking about my job and mom. We're getting to the heart of the matter. Talking about regrets and resentments, my personality, and things that need to change. We're digging deep.

Sometimes it's scary. There are some things in there I don't want to know. There's so much of my childhood missing that I'm afraid something happened. Maybe I'm just blocking out early signs of my mom being crazy. Maybe there's something more in there. I do remember my mom going after me with a wooden spoon, and I remember having to hide from her a lot, but I don't think she ever "beat" me. I know my dad is only guilty of being oblivious to everything that was going on. He's kind of naive. I'm a little resentful of that, too. He should have protected me, but I don't even know how he would have. He was blinded by love, me thinks.

So it's time to go to therapy in a couple of hours. I'm not sure what I have to say today, so I think it will be a meditation day. She does guided meditation and we look into my brain for the hidden stuff. Should be interesting. I'm in a pliable mood.

Early to treat equals less problems

Here's something interesting from 2007:

"The Journal of Pediatrics shows that childhood-onset bipolar disorder is more common than believed and often goes unrecognized and untreated for long periods of time, leading to lower quality of life and greater difficulty in treatment."

The longer bipolar goes undiagnosed, the harder it is to treat, and the closer together the cycles get (rapid cycling). My mom has this problem. By all accounts she was probably bipolar from the start, but didn't get treatment until well into her fifties. She had heavier depressions and higher highs than me, and I was diagnosed and first treated at age 15. Because I was treated so early, I have less rapid cycling, and depressions and manias which aren't as "deep."

"The patients also had an increased risk of substance abuse, a greater lifetime risk of suicide attempts, higher prevalence of lifetime anxiety disorders, and greater resistance to treatment."

Now here's where we differ. I have higher rates of anxiety and substance abuse, but my mom is allergic to everything (including pot), so she never really had the opportunity to do drugs. I, on the other hand, loved them. And I think the anxiety is a condition inherited from my dad's side. She definitely has the resistance and more suicide attempts.

All in all, I'm more stable for having been treated early in my life, and will remain stable so long as I keep treating my disorder. My mom will have a harder time at it, but can still achieve a level of normalcy with the help of medications. Interesting.

ACOA

Growing up in a dysfunctional home can have lifetime effects on you.

"Often you chose relationships that reenact what you grew up with such as having partners that are not emotionally or physically present, such as your parents. You may find yourself contributing to enabling behaviors as your parents did growing up. You might chose to live in denial about important issues in your life, because that is the only defense mechanism you feel comfortable with when you are in pain."

I'm not a child of alcoholics, but a child of dysfunction, nonetheless. My mom was unstable during my teen years, and probably showed a lot of that behavior in my childhood, which unfortunately I can't remember. I do look for friends with drama, but lately I've been looking for normal folks. People without addictions and hard family lives. But I'm just attracted to these people! I find them without even knowing about it.

My fun defense mechanisms were alcohol and drugs and controlling behavior. I'm trying to remedy all that, as well. I need to learn patience and love for others, and accept that people can do it on their own. Not everyone needs my guidance.

It's your mother's fault

"Recent studies in animals and humans suggest that abnormalities of mitrochondria may be involved in bipolar depression."

They apparently just finished a study seeing whether this was true or not. I can't wait for the details to come out. It begs the question: are people with mothers who are mentally ill more likely to inherit the disorder?

Mitochondria are also what scientists study to trace genetics back generations. Things pass through the mother: mitochondria come from the mother. So if your mom is mentally ill, it would make sense that you are more likely to get the disease than if it runs in your dad's family. Right? Hopefully they're doing a study on that now.

Holy moly

Wow, this resentment thing is insane. I've only been working on it for an hour and already I have 6 pages, going back to kindergarten. I don't have as much on my mom as I thought I would, but I'm sure I'll come up with more later.

I do have a lot of resentments against myself. I seem to be able to go on and on on that one. There's just a lot that I've done that I didn't think I regretted - I've always prided myself on living life on life's terms and not regretting things. Apparently I have been deluding myself this whole time. Not that I hate myself, or anything (though hating myself is on the list), but I've done some things I'm not proud of, and that causes bitterness, which is a nicer way of saying resentment.

My best friend from kindergarten came up, too. We were so close, and then one day she was just able to drop me. I haven't heard from her since I was 16. I can't find her anywhere, and I'm afraid to call her mom. I don't know. So, she was in to witchcraft and it scared me. We were 13, and I still told my mom everything then. I told her, she told this girl's mom, and she got in trouble. And she never spoke to me again. Harsh. So there's three resentments there: me for telling, her for ditching me, and mom for breaking my confidence.

It's amazing what you can find out just going through this exercise.

Bipolar can make you moon people

Ok, last one for tonight. Just a short story:

When I was 15 (I lied last time, it was 15 not 16) and living at Diane's in New England, my mom was on a serious manic high. My dad had sent me to stay with Diane to get me out of the house while they negotiated the divorce. What I didn't know, was when I came home I'd be shipped off to boarding school.

One day, my mom just showed up. She said she wanted to get away for a bit, and my cousin and I hesitantly let her in the house. It's like a vampire - don't let the manic in the house! Diane had this huge Victorian with three floors and a basement apartment, where I was living. My mom took over the attic floor.

One day, I was across the street at the frat house learning how to keg toss (I was pretty good at it. All those sports made me strong enough to pick one up) and my mom called out from the top window for me to come home. I had spent the last 2 months without any real supervision, and was learning how to be an adult. I said no, and continued what I was doing. And all of a sudden, she mooned us. My 45 year old mother pulled down her pants and mooned a frat house. Seriously? I slunk inside, totally embarrassed.

Eventually, mom just got crazier and crazier. One day she came home from God knows where, with McDonald's, and told me to get in the car cause we were going home. I took one look at her, and knew if I got in the car, I was going to die. She was going to drive us off a cliff in the mountains, and I'd never make it home. I refused. She got really angry, packed my bag, and put it in the trunk. I made it look like I was getting in the car, and then asked to get something out of the trunk. I grabbed my stuff and b-lined it back into the house.

By then, my 6 year old cousin was hiding underneath the kitchen table. "I don't want her to take me, too," he whined. How frightening for a little child. Even he knew she was dangerous.

My mom called the police and accused my cousin of kidnapping me. Yep. The police came, and my cousin immediately called my grandfather. I told him what was happening, and he said under no circumstances was I to get in the car with her. He would buy me a plane ticket the next day.

I stood on the front lawn between my mom and the house (where my cousin was hiding with her son), and told the police officer that he was sentencing me to death if he made me get in that car. He took me seriously, and asked my mom to leave.

I didn't see her again for a month or so, until I was kidnapped and sent to boarding school, but that's another story.

Keep coming back

So I admitted to the room tonight just how lazy I've been all week about going to meetings, and that I only came cause I thought the secretary was going to yell at me for not coming - and she's on vacation! But I went, and I feel better.

There was a guy there who had 5 days, and man did he smell like booze. It's his second time around, but he said he's happy to be back, and really serious this time. I hope to see him again around the rooms.

The speaker was quiet, but had a lot to say. She has been working her program for 24 years, and spoke about how she wasn't really raising her kids before she got here. Her 5 year old used to change the baby's diaper because she just couldn't get out of bed in the morning. I'm glad that, if I stay with this program, I'll never have to say that of my children. They'll never have to see me so drunk I can't bother to feed them or take care of them.

I'm glad I don't come from an alcoholic family. Both my parents abstain, for different reasons. Although living with a borderline is like living with alcoholism, my mom was always able to feed me and keep a roof over my head. Well, I suppose that was all my dad, but my mom was still able to be there, most of the time. My dad is a rock. He's never been drunk or unstable in any way, shape, or form, and I'm grateful every day for his steady influence.

So maybe one day I can be that steady influence for someone else. If I keep working at this program, I'll be amazed before I am halfway through, they say. I'll have a life better than I could have imagined, and the capacity to be there for those I love, and those alcoholics who have and haven't found these rooms.

Just like mom

"'The problems caused by alcoholism are not limited to the individual who suffers from it,' said Peter T. Morgan, associate professor of psychiatry at Yale University and corresponding author for the study. 'Children are particularly susceptible to the negative effects of alcoholism in a parent, and adult children of alcoholics are in general at much greater risk for developing every type of psychiatric illness.'"

I believe this is probably true for people who grew up in families with other dysfunctions, like mental illness. Besides running genetically in families (which they can't prove yet), I think mental illness also has to do with the nurturing received by one's family.

My mom was always a little crazy, she just went super crazy while I was in my teens. I always knew something was wrong. I tried to be in control of her from the very start. My parents tell stories about when I was 4 or 5 when I would tell my mom not to do stuff cause I wasn't big enough to save her. I would always try to guide her. I must have known something was wrong, but was too young to process it and deal with those emotions. I'm just getting to know them, now, and learning to deal with them. I still have almost no memories from childhood, so I know there's a lot blocked out there.

Other people I know who grew up in mentally dysfunctional homes or alcoholic homes seem to have a higher rate of mental illness, especially depression. It seems that those early influences have a deeper effect on us than we thought, and science is beginning to prove it.


Need help? Try these guys (just a recommendation, not an endorsement):


Adult Children of Alcoholics is an anonymous Twelve Step, Twelve Tradition program of women and men who grew up in an alcoholic or otherwise dysfunctional homes. We meet with each other in a mutually respectful, safe environment and acknowledge our common experiences. We discover how childhood affected us in the past and influences us in the present ("The Problem"). We take positive action. By practicing the Twelve Steps, focusing on "The Solution", and accepting a loving Higher Power of our understanding, we find freedom from the past and a way to improve our lives today.

Momma bear

My mom wants to move to my town. I know, I know, that might be a little crazy. But there are some good reasons. She can't really get around the area where she lives anymore because of either the heat or the snow. She is stuck in the house about 6 months out of the year.

She just called me for permission to look. "Tell me truthfully, I won't be mad: would it drive you crazy if I moved there?" You know, I had to think about it for a while. "As long as you're not dependent on me too much, I think I could handle it." See, I would want her around if I were to have kids. I would need her help; she's great with kids. And she's been fine and taking her meds for two years now. She and I have a really good relationship. She's acting like the mom I've always wanted her to be.

And I would have free dog-sitting without having to rely on my ex-boyfriend's mom.

I think it would be alright. Some people might not think so, like Adam and Emily (Emily HATES my mom), but I've created some pretty tough boundaries in the past 5 years. I would be able to hold on to those, and probably start Al-Anon just to keep myself on track. She stayed here while I was in Europe, and I trusted her with my car, my dog, and my apartment. It was a test, and she passed.

So we'll see what happens and how I deal with it. I would rather my dad move here, but mom and I will be fine. Adam, don't freak out.