I’m sick of people. Not all of them but a lot of the main players in my life at the moment are making me want to tear my hair out. I want to jump in my car, fill the tank and take off until this storm passes.
My mum is sick. Very sick. In addition to this, she is bipolar (no shit Sherlock!) but I am slowly beginning to lose my patience. Throw in the passive aggressive actions of my husband and my bestie and I am just about ready to lose my shit.
I spend so much of my life doing stuff for other people and putting other people’s feelings before my own, that just now again it would be nice for someone to look at me, and I mean really look at me and ask, “And how are you?”
My mother requires major surgery and as a result she has deemed herself bed-ridden. As you would expect, a long period of keeping herself in bed has triggered a severe depressive episode. My life is crazy-busy at the best of times but I know the importance of company when depression is rife so I have been travelling over to visit her 3/4 times a week in an attempt to connect with her and lift her from the gloom.
My mother and I have always had a role-reversal relationship, or at least since I was about 7 years old. I am the one who thinks rationally and has to cajole her into making ‘good choices’ only to be shot down with, “I will not take advice from someone whose nappies (diapers) I have changed!” As a kid my friends would joke that our relationship was like the mother and daughter in British comedy Absolutely Fabulous (the nerdish sensible daughter always picking up the pieces of the drunken mother’s antics).
My mother is without a doubt her own worst enemy. And how can you help someone who doesn’t want to be helped? Yet again I arrive at her house to be told by her boyfriend that, “She’s in bed – she hasn’t come out for days. All she eats is cereal and junk…” When she finally makes her way downstairs, she launches into how awful she feels because, as a insulin-dependent diabetic, she’s had yet another hypo. “Have you been managing your blood sugars? What did you have this morning for breakfast I ask?”
“I haven’t eaten today. Make a cup of tea would you?” she responds. *sigh*
As I returned from the kitchen with her drink, I explained that I only had 45 minutes or so before I needed to leave to collect The Kid, attend Parents’ Evening and then race off to teach 2 fitness classes (I had already been at my day job all day) and sat down on the sofa to talk.
At this point she launches into what can only be described as a 45 minute ‘misery mumble.’ I sat patiently and nodded, offering polite suggestions when I could but I wanted to scream. It is so hard to watch someone who is suffering as a result of a situation that they have created for themselves. She didn’t pause for breath. 45 minutes she talked about how unhappy she is and how awful her life is. I did all the things a ‘good daughter’ should. I nodded sympathetically, offered suggestions and listened without judgement.
Things right now are tough for me too. Really tough. It is written all over my face. Sure my make-up is immaculate, my hair is done nicely but if you know me and you look, really look, you can see that I am definitely not ok. Not once did my mum look at me and say, “but anyway, how are things with you?”
Add into the mix the 2 other main players in my life using a passive aggressive approach to make me generally feel guilty for existing and I’m pretty much done with people right now. There’s only so much you can give right?
Thankfully, my friend McBeal does look and does notice that no, I’m not alright. So we are off out this evening to paint the town red. Boy do I need it!