Trying to pull it together after a week of pure exhaustion. I have Fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue syndrome, arthritis everywhere and degenerative disc disease so I have bouts of pain and exhaustion where I fluctuate from suffering from insomnia to chronic fatigue. I spent the evenings unable to sleep and having to nap in the afternoons. My brain has been so foggy. I’m somewhere in that space between not really awake but not exactly asleep but walking around. Miraculously. Yesterday I went out with 2 different shoes on and I didn’t even notice. Everything I eat makes me feel like I’m going to be sick. It’s like having the flu. I woke up this morning completely soaked. Had to change and crawl back into bed. I barely remember because I was still partially asleep. I couldn’t wake up and get up so I slept. I slept until 11am. What woke me was another nightmare.
I usually dream the same things over and over again. The world outside is chaos. Something has happened. Something from the skies. We’re always watching the skies. People are travelling in small groups of people trying to stay safe and unnoticed. There’s no food, and there is destruction and devastated buildings everywhere. We have to to stay quiet and unnoticed because if they hear us, they will take us. I don’t know who they are. I never see because I usually wake myself up screaming. My dreams are terrifying and violent. I’ve had dreams similar to this for most of my life. I have had PTSD for most of my life. Another way I wake up is I’m yelling at my parents. Usually my father. We fell out a couple of years ago over money. He had co signed a line of credit for me in 2007 to go back to school. I went back to get certified in Fitness Instruction, Personal Training and Nutrition and Wellness. That was going to be my career and I was really good at it. Then I got sick. I had to have emergency surgery one night from endometriosis complications. I was off work for a while but I was unable to ever fully return to my normal capacity. Over time my Fibro came back full swing with new symptoms added. Arthritis became crippling some days. I missed time from work and kept getting fired from job after job. The stress of not being able to eat or pay rent or take care of everything while being sick and getting sicker was awful. Again.. No support or caring from my father or stepmother. I was put off work years ago because of illness. My stepmother thinks I’m lazy and so does my father. Kept telling my to get my shit together . I’m sick not lazy. They don’t understand that I am actually ill. So when I was unable to keep up the payments on this line of credit, my father cut me out. He told me he did not want to see my face. That was almost 2 years ago now. My mother and I haven’t spoke in five years or so. She has a lot of health problems as well, in fact we share many of those- thanks DNA, but I was told by my stepfather years ago that I wasn’t to call there anymore. If I had something to say, to put it in an email. I know my mother has moments that she could speak to me for five minutes. She chooses not to. She’s chosen not to since I was 26. I had a rocky relationship with my mother until about 12 where we became friends. I say friends because she was never consistently in my life like a mother should be. My father just ignored me but she would be in and out like the seasons. In while my stepfather was away at sea and she was lonely, out once he retired.
All I’ve ever wanted is to feel loved by my parents and to feel close, but instead I felt like an old antique piece of furniture being passed back and forth. “Well I don’t want it right now, so I’ll just store it in the attic in case I need it for something, I mean, I can’t throw it out, these things are valuable to some people.” I guess not everyone gets the supportive advice, the encouragement, the hugs, the “I love yous” , the birthday cakes, the gifts, the help, the empathy, the compassion. I’ve been pretty much on my own since 13 with the occasional help from them of say groceries for my birthday. I’ve lived with my father but I was ignored. Like not even told there was dinner ready ignored. No one noticed my good grades, no one noticed how hard I was working at university, or the fact that I never asked them for anything. Ever. (Except for that line of credit in 2007) I overdosed at 18 on Valium and slept in my bedroom for two days and no one noticed. When I got married in 2011, my mother and stepfather didn’t attend my wedding, nor did I receive a card or a present. I noticed my youngest step brother got married this past month, my invitation seemingly lost in the mail. My stepfather made it to his wedding I learned. My stepfather. He taught me some things and helped me different times but he was more of the same. There, then not there, then don’t call me.
All this stuff seems to come up when I go through a flare. I guess it’s because it’s when I feel most vulnerable. I so wish I could hear an encouraging “I love you” or a hug or “I’m sorry that you’re having these problems, can we help?” I hear my partner talking to her mom and sister on the phone and there’s always this little piece of me that breaks a little inside.
My parents are getting older, approaching their seventies and I know that things will never be resolved with us. The chaos I grew up in, the things that happened to me and not having their help, their protection, their guidance or love. Even my health needs went unmet which in turn has complicated my health now. In today’s world, I would have been removed from that home. I saw things and knew things children should never know or be exposed to. Nothing… There will never be anything different with them.
Seeing how difficult it is to attain mental health help in addition to the family doctor I am waiting for, 2 years now. I felt like the only means available to me is to write about it. I can’t afford the treatments that many people have access to and I have no health coverage. The only thing I have is my writing. I have hesitated to really put things out there for a long time. I already got yelled at by my brother because of “how I write about our parents” he is my step mother’s son from her previous marriage. Her only child. He got taken care of well. Very well. I on the other hand was not her problem. He doesn’t realize that despite us living under the same roof for 6 years we have lived very different lives.
My family doesn’t care about me. I have one cousin that I wish lived closer but I even tend to keep her at arm’s length because I don’t trust she’ll stay in my life either. My now ex wife cheated on me and we divorced in 2014 so yeah, now I have some serious abandonment issues and PTSD and chronic pain and poverty and bad credit and all the other shit that comes with being chronically ill.
I prefer for people to think of me as witty and happy and clever so I tend to only write when I’m feeling upbeat but that isn’t realistic. Life isn’t always like that. Sometimes, life is just shit.
I hope I feel better tomorrow.
Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Live Graciously,
“Mangrove Trees” by 9comeback www.freedigitalphotos.net