Dear Dad, I’m 44

Hey, Dad. I wish you were here.

But I’m hoping you’re up there, is that even right? “Up there?” Maybe you’re beside me? Maybe that’s why sometimes I don’t feel as alone, as if I could reach out and hug you, and maybe that’s why other times I have an overwhelming feeling of just wanting to go home? Happiness with you was my home. Anywhere, up there, beside me, whatever, I hope Heaven is a groovy place. I hope you’re watching the Cowboys and the Rangers, maybe playing Spades or a game of catch. The latter is difficult to think about because of the way and circumstances in which you died. Died. Passed on. I think I like “passed on.” Passed on to something better. It still rips my heart apart knowing you were playing baseball and enjoying life, no idea you were about to take your last breath. It seems unfair, in a way, the lack of a warning. No family with you. Just playing a game of baseball, falling… and gone. Just gone. People can say “passed on,” but you’re gone. That’s what I know for certain. Everything changed on September 8, 1992.

Sometimes, I become quite angry we didn’t get to say goodbye to you, but would I really prefer you to have had a longer type of illness, and wither away, seeing you in pain? No. It’s best to know you left doing something you loved. You were only 44 years old.

I’m 44 years old today, Dad.

And I’m scared. Honestly, I didn’t even expect to make it to 44. Now, here I am, and I have this dread. I’m scared of 44 because of your early death and that of your own Dad’s. Maybe you tried to be a great Dad to us because you lost your Dad far too early as well? I wish our youngest sister remembered you better. She was only 4 years old, though. I’m glad our other sister, closer to my age, has day to day memories of you as well.

I’m scared of being 44. I’m scared I’ll leave my son far too early. And who would take care of my Mom? I’m afraid of the pain, I’ll be honest. Mostly, I’m afraid of the unknown. Whatever fills that vast unknown, I know that someday, many days and years from now, after I see my son marry and have his own children, I know you’ll be there waiting for me, welcoming. And if it should be sooner that I show up, please be there to hold me and tell me everyone I leave behind will be okay.

I can’t wait to hug you again.

I miss you. Send me a sign if you’re able. Love you.

A L O N E and i do not understand why

Why don’t people want to be in my life, I wonder. God, I wonder what’s wrong with me.

I just want to die. It’s the truth. Lots of people, especially with mental illness do, but I’m just sharing about it. Here’s my truth.

I have a loving husband who works so hard and lots of hours.

I have a mom who is disabled and we don’t always get along so well.

I have a beautiful, talented son who is doing what he shouold be doing, which is growing and living and moving on.

I have sisters who will not speak to me. Not for years.

I had a best friend of decades stop speaking to me last year, and I still have no idea why.

I have one long distance friend. We are very close. But I don’t see her. And she and I don’t talk nearly as much as we used to.

I have another very good friend who I talk to a few times a week, and sometimes I see her when passing through my hometown.

I have a few supportive, lovely, online friends who understand Bipolar.

Beyond this, I’m alone. And I’m very lonely.

And of course I know I have God. But I want people, too. I want phone calls and hugs and interaction. There are so many people I’ve tried to befriend. I genuinely care for these people, and I truly don’t think they give a toss about me.

It’s getting bad. I’m feeling so low. Considering my old ways of self-harm. Feeling desperate, and there are moments of feeling suicidal.

This is not all to do with Bipolar, but it certainly doesn’t help.

Why am I sharing this? To be accountable, on the record, and in order not to do something bad to myself.

Thanks to you few who truly care. I know who you are.

Anyway

3.26.19 blog entry

Ugh. This won’t be a happy entry. Not a long one, either. Just feeling like such a loser and battling the whole, “why bother.” Feel like such an absolute, utter waste of space. Just really don’t think I can do anything more than breathe. I don’t feel like I can help my family or myself. I feel so alone. I fake it throughout the days just to cry at night. Anyway…..

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So, I just watched a movie called “Rememory.” After finishing this grand-scoped, thought-provoking movie, I was left pondering this question while dabbing at tears.

If you could erase heartbreaking, devastating, tragic memories, would you do it?

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Why?

How would that change you as a person? How would that affect who you are now?

And a somewhat different question – are some memories, some events, best left forgotten. Best buried as a way for your mind to protect you?

Okay, so I lied. I posed more than one question. Four or five, I guess.

Another movie years back had me kicking ideas around like this. I’m quite certain it was the film’s intention, of course, and well done. “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” Did you see it?

I think I need all of my memories, despite knowing I have been robbed of some. Possibly I should edit the word “despite” and instead use “especially.”

I need my memories because even the bad have a reason of existing. Bad forces me to appreciate good. Loss helps me recognize what beauty I do have.

So yeah, even if I could push the button that wipes away all bad, I would not press it. Though, I will readily, and with speed, advise you to hide that button from me because tomorrow, I could most vehemently  disagree with what I think now, and smack that sucker in efforts to rid myself of the burdens and pains of the day.

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Stress/Pain Cycle, Part 2

At the end of the blog entry called Stress/Pain Cycle, I mentioned I would be doing a follow-up entry, this time coming up eith ideas to hopefully prevent, or at least manage, the cycle’s snowball effect somewhat better. I need to figure out a way to prevent the stress the initial inicident causes, such as Fibromyalgia flare-ups and increasing my back pain and arthritic pain. And oh!! The migraines! Additionally, I need to figure out, once I do find myself in the cycle, how to lessen the physical pain I am feeling.

Today the physical pain is somewhat better. That is because I avoided the root problem of what caused this latest cycle. Basically, that’s saying that I hid in my room and didn’t have interaction with my mother. However, as the day wears on, I am starting to feel more more physical pain.

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Now once I have the pain, I know that I can use anti-inflammatory gel, medication that has been prescribed to me, heating pads, stretches, and mld exercise. Those things tend to help the physical pain, in addition to employing grounding exercises and prayer. Basically, if I can calm my emotional pain somewhat, then the physical pain gets better. Bottom line, after all, is that it’s all painful. I learned techniques for chronic pain relief at a pain management clinic, such as biofeedback. This part of the cycle I have a better hold on and ideas how to handle it.

The major problem I face is how to manage the stressor/trigger in the first place. This proves more difficult in that my mother, and her numerous needs, lives with me. I need to establish boundaries and try to stick to them. I also need to use the grounding techniques using all five senses and being present in the moment three times a day instead of once. Next step is to speak to my therapist because, as you can see, I need help and advice.

Have you been through similar? Any thoughts/feedback?

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