You Better Stop
a -Look Around
Here it comes, Here it comes, Here it comes, Here it comes,
Here comes your nine-teenth nervous breakdown
Rolling Stones, 1965
Day before yesterday was just an all around bad day. I woke up feeling after a night of tossing and turning, so just didn't get much rest. I had a phone interview that I anticipated for three days, so I guess I spent all night trying to find the way to answer the questions with just the right words, or perhaps try to find a way to convey our desperation for help for my husband. The interview came and went, but I don't think I did too well. Nothing I said seemed to portray the hell we are going through here at home, and what I did say it seemed like the interviewer could not understand.
I got off the phone and I don't know if something just snapped inside me, but all this false bravado just crumbled. I started crying and just didn't stop. I spoke to my sister who assured me that maybe the interviewer was trying to trip me up and that it ain't over till it's over. (Thanks Liz) In my heart though, I knew it was another battle lost. I hope I am wrong, but it just seems we always get kicked down when we fight. Now, before you think "woe is her" and I am throwing myself a pity party...it truly has been this way since day one. We find one resource, I go after it. I tackle it with full gusto and hope, only to find that door is closed and not ever going to open again for us. Three years of this I have looked, fought and come up with nothing.
Three years of waging a war against PTSD and all I have to show for it, is my blog. I have no friends, except for a few ladies in the FRG but only one I talk to. No support except for a few ladies I know online who are going through the same thing in which I am grateful, but I can't really take their time up bitching about what's going in my life. How would that be fair to them? They have to be enduring the same hell I am on most days.
It seems when I am really in a funk, the kids are worse. They feed off my emotions I believe and find every which way to get into trouble or to push my buttons. My husband who walked around here yesterday in a funky daze, simply patted me on the back and said 'You'll be alright". YOU'LL BE ALRIGHT? That's all you can say? Really?
I think I needed a hug...maybe a kiss on the forehead and to let me know everything is going to be ok. He couldn't state that. He patted me on the back which is the same to me as patting your buddy on the back and telling them to buck up. He went outside to putz in the yard which I know was probably the best thing because he was in a funk as well, but that left me with three kids running around and two of them looking to stir up a ruckus. That left me with no one to understand or more importantly, be sad with me. Now I don't expect him to sit around and bawl with me, and Lord knows...one crazy person around this house is enough! I guess I just needed the sympathy or perhaps empathy....and I just didn't get it.
I loaded up after realizing we were out of soy milk for my littlest one (allergies) and went to the store. I had tears running down my face driving, teary eyed I battled for a parking place, and then after wiping down my face went in to brave the crowds. I watched a husband and wife arguing playfully over who was best in choosing a watermelon and just hearing him laugh made me want to vomit. I HATE going to the store period just because with a family of five, the bill is usually large....and then the store is always crowded unless you go later at night, and mostly because I see husbands and wives carry on...or one of my kids notices a dad with a son playing or laughing so you get the "why can't dad be that way?".
So after getting my groceries, I made my way to the check out and while the cashier was scanning my goods, she asked "How are you doing today?". Perhaps it was just the wrong statement, maybe it was the sweet way she said it, but I just started streaming the water works! I was soooo freaking embarrassed! I apologized to her and told her it was just a bad day and that I was fine. Just had the boo-hooies and could not shake them. She said "sometimes you just got to cry to feel better". I left feeling somewhat better after she said that, as I was sure she probably thought me to be some sort of lunatic.
I took my time getting home knowing the kids were fine with my oldest and my husband being there. The drive home calmed me down a little. I know I was tired, and because of my Rheumatoid Arthritis, the weather here has been playing havoc on my body. It's just some days you don't realize how much you go, go and go non-stop with no one to push you from behind. I didn't realize until yesterday how tired I was.......tired of keeping everything up all the time, maintaining the sanity around my home, and just mentally tired of the ups and downs that constantly rule our lives. I want to say it's normal for me to cry and get down every once in a while, but I feel guilty when I do. I am just simply tired of fighting. I just want one good thing to happen for us that gives me a reason to fight. I keep looking and haven't found it yet. Anyone else just get bone damned weary of keeping up with all of it? What do you do to combat the weariness?
Uncle Sam's Mistress