You know, I had so much to write the other day that I decided not to put all in one post. What the best thing ( did in 2010? Well, on July 27th I quit smoking cold turkey with none of those nicotine patches or gums. I just made up my mind to do it. The first couple of weeks were hard, but by the third week, the cravings lessened

I miss going to therapy, but each therapist I’ve seen (3) just didn’t seem all that interested in what I had to say. Once actually clock-watch during the whole session. I want to return to therapy, but now I am not sure where to go. I think I am going to call the head therapist I worked with during that intensive three-month outpatient therapy. Maybe I can get her to make the appointment for me in case they it to be a referral requirement.

I’ve been fairly balanced bipolar-wise (BP). And what is interesting, when I am feeling balanced, the Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) doesn’t seem to be as pronounced. However I feel myself slipping into a manic phase. I’ve had all this energy and haven’t been to sleep in 4 days, but I feel fine. My biggest weakness when I am manic is my need to spend money and collecting things I shouldn’t have. Those items always fall in the “want” category!

Well, my psychiatrist was me to have another neuro workup considering the fact that my short-term memory is sporadic at best and I can’t concentrate or focus on tasks. I’ll start working on ten things at the same time, yet make headway on none. So, I am no going to work on one item at a time from start to finish. Not sure what my productivity will be at work.

Speaking of work, I have been staying on top of my projects and my email. My boss hasn’t had to deal with me for the whole month of January so far. I know I am supposed to be getting my performance appraisal this month. I can hardly wait. I rather doubt that it will be as good as last year.

I have perfected the smoothie! I have a 1200-watt blender that will crush ice. I can make gelatos and ice cream and frozen Margaritas. Well, I look at my poor absorption of vitamins and minerals, but instead of taking all these vitamins and minerals in pill form, I am adding leafy green veggies and such (spinach, kale, broccoli, carrots not peeled). I put the veggies in with the blender and all you can taste is all the fruit I usually add to my regular smoothie along with the protein powder and flax seed meal (the actual flax seeds are hard to digest).. Maybe my blood results will look better this time when I go see my regular doctor.

Back to my dysfunctional family. I decided to send everyone framed pictures of Mom following her 90th birthday, evening including K, the niece from hell. I called her out on it and she claimed she didn’t know what I was talking about. Never mind that for the last 10 years I have been patently ignored when the family gets together for the celebration at K’s house. Well, I sent the framed photos to K and today is Jan 17. I actually was expecting a thank you call or card, but nothing has been forthcoming, so I have now washed my hands of her.

You know what else hurt my feelings? Now that I have a dependable car, I have the ability to drive the four hours to her house. WhenI was visiting her back in November, she told me that staying for four days is just too much for her. Three will suffice. Well, that’s hard on me considering it’s practically a quick turn-around trip. And on top of that, she doesn’t want me down there too often (like once per season). Well, she is 90 and has every right to dictate who can and for how long someone can visit. Ah, yes, family. Just warms the cockles of my heart! ©2011

One Long Year Later

For the past year I have wrestled with demons, good times, manic phases…you name it. I have been trying to fly below the radar…keeps things that much easier. I want so much to be anonymous, but in today’s climate, that is virtually impossible. I hate the fact that my fingerprints are in the system (not that I plan on going out and committing a crime, mind you).

This past year was a hard one at my job (let me say this right now…I am blessed with employment!). I was still on a learning curve. But what soon became evident were the issues plaguing me during recovery. I still have short-term memory loss and we don’t know if it will be permanent. Things got so bad that I was put in a sort of probationary 3-month re-evaluation subject to my work performance. I’ve lost four accounts because of the mistakes I have made. However, that period soon passed once they understood it to be the cause of a medical condition.

Ironically, I have had a great month at work so far for January. I’ve shifted my focus. I now get up at the crack of dawn (0400, to log on to the employer’s VPN at 0700). That leaves me with 3 hours before I have to be at work. Now, every morning, I am drinking my hot tea while doing my devotions and Bible reading and praying. I am also starting to record Joyce Meyer so I can pause it here and there while I take notes. I figure that’s about the best way I can start the day.

My beloved little church finally succumbed to lack of attendance, so the Pastor chose to close the church. I have tried a few and I have come across one that I am going to attend a few more times before I commit to anything. This is a much larger church and is not affiliated with a denomination which I like. Their praise & worship is a little different from what I’ve become used to, but that can change in time. What’s nice is that my pastor from the previous church and his wife, one other couple and a single dad have decided that they really like this church as well.

There is so much I want to say and I don’t even know where to start. My mom celebrated her 90th birthday last September and she is feisty as ever. She mall walks everyday, plays bridge twice a week and attends several social butterfly lunches. You’d never know it to see her. I have this picture of my Mom and I with our heads together and we have the same colour hair considering I am 36 years younger than she is. I sure hope I come from her gene pool!

Unfortunately, my niece and all of the “precious” great-grand children came with her. She knows she smells like a rose and can do no harm. That pure bull. While she can smile and laugh with the best of them, she is quite devious underneath. Just remember that she is the one who refuses to invite me to the family holiday festivities. I am the only one not invited. Well, after everyone had eaten their dinner and was just sitting around the table in the restaurant, I pulled K outside to finally end it all and call a truce even though I still don’t know how I ever pissed her off that much (hell, maybe she’s homophobic, I don’t know). I pointedly asked her why had I been excluded all these years and she said, “but I only invite my family.” Heck, I am her Godmother and her Aunt. What part of “her family” does that not fit? So what am I, chopped liver…LOL?

My Mom once told me to rise above the circumstances. So, regardless of what K said, I still decided to send her a 5x7 close-up of Mom already framed and a framed wallet-sized photo of Mom and Santa. I also happened to send it to my nephew (her brother) and my brother (yeah, I know, surprise, surprise). Today is 13 January and I have gotten a thank you from everyone except K. Well, now I can wash my hands of her. The next time I will see her will most likely be at my Mom’s funeral. My intention after my mother dies is to make no overtures towards anyone left in the family. If someone calls me, then that’s a different story. But I am an adult and I don’t have time for such foolishness. The only person I can see having a loose relationship with is my older sister P. We have been on good terms, but she is so much like Dad was. Always offering advice when none is asked, and always reminding me of how I could have done something better. Come to think of it, my brother L has the same rock to stumble over.

And so it begins—a new year filled with possibilities. Last October and the ensuing months were the absolute low point in my life. I don’t wish to be faced with the same set of circumstances that led me to attempt suicide.

I quit seeing the therapist I was first assigned to because her available hours conflicted with my work schedule. So she graciously referred me to another therapist she had good words to say regarding her, but I went to two sessions with her and she was a tad bit over the top. Look, I don’t care what time of day it is, I cannot deal with chirpiness. She was just wa-a-ay to happy a camper. So, I called the office, indicating that the second therapist was not a good fit and could I return to seeing the first therapist. The woman who answered the phone said they would have to check my medical records and have the request referred to the nurse and someone would get back to me. Well, it’s been a month and I haven’t heard anything. Yeah, I know, I should probably call and follow-up; I just haven’t had the energy to accomplish much of anything.

I am still seeing my psychiatrist and now my visits are once every three months—more of a med and status check than anything. Nevertheless, he is quite concerned about my lack of attention, focus and my short-term memory issues that have had a measureable impact on my job. He wants me to go in for neurophysiologic testing to see if we can pinpoint either the cause of the problems or if it’s temporary or not (it’s been over a year now…sounds kinda permanent to me). My psychiatrist is worried that I may have caused some injury to my brain when I attempted suicide (God only knows what flowed through my veins that night). Then, after the results are in (I have no idea what tests they would be performing), I may have to do neurocognitive rehab. I have no idea what that is all about either.

Well, I’ve now had my car for one year and I am still happy with it. But get this, I only have 3900 miles on it. I just don’t have long distances to drive around the city. Almost everything I do except for grocery shopping is within walking distance. That’s my effort of getting off my lazy ass and generating some energy burn. I found out yesterday from my Mom that the Honda Fit made Consumers Reports their best value, and Car and Driver put the Fit in their top ten for five years in a row.

OK, shift in focus. Sunday night it began to snow heavily here (I live in the southeast US). We usually don’t get snow, but ice storms instead. At night, it was so serene and picturesque. It was like looking at a huge Ansell Adams mural. When all was said and done, we ended up with 10 inches of snow. I had so much fun. However, I did learn one lesson…don’t attempt to make a snow angel in 10 inches of snow. When you fall back, it’s a longer way down than it looks, and then, once you’ve landed, all the snow falls in and buries you (my most graceful move yet). 4 days later, only the streets are finally cleared, but all of our yards are still covered with the leftover snow. The fact that the temp hasn’t risen above freezing all this time is making it harder for the snow to dissipate. But it sure was peaceful and beautiful. That, most probably, will be our big storm of the season.

I can tell I am losing some of the ground I gained when I was in that outpatient therapy program for 3 hours a day Mon, Wed, and Fri that lasted for three months. I feel the BPD becoming an issue again. I am isolating again and at the same time having a pity party that I don’t have more friends, then I take solace in my aloneness (I prefer that to loneliness). When I really think about it, I love living alone so much that I don’t even entertain the idea of dating much less having a girlfriend move in. I love my privacy. I love not answering my door (unless I know already that someone is on their way…I make them call me when they get in my driveway). I had fun with the Census Bureau. I did not fill out the form and mail it in. I feel it’s an invasion of privacy despite all their protestations that ALL information will be kept confidential. HA! They started coming by the house, first one, then another for a total of five visits. I ignored them completely. They even went to my neighbours twice (they had already been coached to answer in such a way that it did not reveal gender and number of people living in my house). I just don’t want someone knowing my business. While I applaud the medical community and their HIPAA regulations, we could sure use some of that stringent guideline in the private sector. Face it. Too many people know too much information on everyone. All it takes is this wonderful Ethernet world.

I promise, I promise to get back into my blogging on a regular basis. I guess too many of you are sick of listening to Santana. I left it as my playlist for this past year. Today, when I post this entry, I will change the music (I promise). It sure is nice to be back again.©2011

Week in Review 23 January 2010

There are subjects that I have not caught you up on since returning to work full-time. I am going to use this week in review to address the various issues that actually encompass more than just this past week.

Iron Infusions: The study included receiving 1000mg of IV iron infusions. I received 200mg Mondays and Wednesdays for 5 days. Throughout the process, the clinical specialist drew blood to check my haemoglobin and ferritin levels. This study will go on for a year although no more iron infusions are to be given. All subsequent visits are geared towards monitoring my blood levels to see how I fare over the course of the year. On day 35, after the final infusion, my haemoglobin only rose to 12.1 (normal is around 12.3-16). However, my ferritin level (one of the key indicators in my case) rose from 5 before the study to 96. While I am pleased with the ferritin level, I still have borderline iron deficient anaemia. I am disappointed that my haemoglobin did not rise any higher. I am curious to see how the blood level results will be over the rest of the year. My savings grace is that I have not had to pay for any of this as being part of this clinical trial, and the added bonus is, once I have completed the yearlong study, I will be compensated for my travelling costs.

Vitamin and Mineral Deficiencies: If you recall, I began having symptoms of ataxia on 13 November 2009. It began with being unable to keep my balance then progressing to ocular involvement called nystagmus then to short-term memory loss. I failed certain neurological tests (most notable the Romberg test. The combination of all three symptoms indicated that I had Wernicke’s encephalopathy that does, in effect, eventually causes organic problems with my brain. If left untreated, the transient symptoms will become permanent. It was suspected that mine was caused by a vitamin B1-Thiamine deficiency. As a result, my GP decided to run a huge panel of vitamin and mineral blood work. The results showed that my B1 levels were undetectable as well as my Selenium levels (essential for the proper functioning of the immune system). I was ordered to start taking 100mg of B1 twice a day and 200mg of Selenium once a day. After six weeks, the repeat blood tests showed marked improvement and my balance had almost come full circle, although I still have some ocular involvement and short-term memory loss (my brain is healing slowly). Another level that was far below normal was vitamin D. Instead of taking an OTC version of vitamin D, my GP wrote a prescription that I am to take once a week for eight weeks, then once a month forever. This does not even include the fact that I have to give myself 1000mcg vitamin B12 shots monthly forever. My doctor essentially told me that I would be taking these vitamins and minerals forever, along with a multi-vitamin that I am supposed to start taking. Coupled with all of my bipolar medications and the ones for my continued high blood pressure, I am swallowing a horde of pills a day.

Individual Therapy: Now that I am no longer in group therapy, I have starting seeing an individual therapist. 20 January was actually my third visit with her following the intake assessment and one follow-up appointment a couple of months ago (my group therapy took precedence). This visit I determined that one of the first factors I had to deal with was my borderline personality disorder.  You’ll note further down in the link what the causes are—I meet all of them. In examining the causes, I decided to deal with my disruptive family history first. I have discussed at length in previous entries how I have been treated as a pariah at holiday gatherings these past seven or eight years always celebrated at my niece’s home. She patently exclaimed that I was not welcome the first time she hosted these events. I ended up attending, even though I had not received an individual invitation, as a result of my nephew’s insistence. He said, “Alix, family is family. You belong there.” When I showed up at the front door with my nephew, my niece clearly displayed her anger and let me know I was not welcome, but she could not refuse my entry because other people had already noticed me, so she was stuck. The entire time, even my mother showed her displeasure, I was uncomfortable. Always the queen of protocol, she said I should not have come because I did not receive an invitation. To this day, I have no idea why my niece hates me—my mother will not volunteer any information and my sister even told me not to confront her daughter. So much for my supportive family.

Getting back to my early years, I was sexually abused at age five. Upon my mother and older sister finding out, my mother shook my shoulders and told me I was never to ever speak of this to anyone. This was during a generation when it was not understood nor dealt with. I was made to feel as though it was my fault. The family dynamic changed forever after that. I felt abandoned by everyone because no one would help me with all of the shame and guilt I felt. Years later, those memories were buried during the haze of my years-long addiction to smack and coke (I used to shoot speedballs). I eventually cleaned up and have been clean for 23 years. However, during my detox period, all those memories came flooding back. I worked up the courage to confront my mother about the sexual abuse and at first, she denied it ever happened. Then, with further insistence, she simply said it was in the past and refused to discuss it with me ever.

A few years later, my parents had a huge celebration for their 50th wedding anniversary. I was living out of town, but my mother wanted my son and me to attend. I simply asked if that particular family member who abused me would be there and she replied yes. Then she told me that I was only welcome if I did not create a scene. I promised I would not (always being the dutiful little girl trying to find that ever so elusive but never found approval). However, I was very anxious about seeing this family member (whom I shall refer here as L). I had not seen L since the memories surfaced. I was not sure how I would react. When I saw him I felt a flood of emotions wash over me and I was not sure I would be able to control myself, but I remembered the promise I had made to my mother. He acted as if nothing had ever happened. I kept my limited contact to perfunctory responses and immediately found someone else with whom to interact.

The next two obligatory times I had to be around L was my father’s funeral and my nephew’s first wedding. I could not keep my distance as far as I wanted because these events were small family gatherings, but I was determined never to attend any events where he would be present with the exception of my mother’s eventual funeral.

Or so I thought. My sister called me this week and told me she wanted to do something special for my mother’s 90th birthday in September. She wanted everyone to be there. Not only will I have to deal with my niece (a favoured one as she has produced my mother’s only great grandchildren), but there is an outside chance that L will be there. My sister did mention that L had declined because he had already booked a hike in Italy and that was his priority. To tell you the truth, that pissed me off. Isn’t my mother’s 90th birthday, an occasion that will never come again, something that should take precedence above all else? Tell me that he did not know that the week he booked his hike was during my mother’s birthday and that it was her 90th. How callous can someone be? Of course I already had a very poor opinion of him (to say the very least), but this was the last straw. As oxymoronic as this sounds, I hope he changes his mind, if only for my mother’s sake.

So, getting back to my therapy session…I made it a special point to tell P that this celebration would be coming up in September, one that is creating enormous anxiety for me, even now. I need to process all that has happened since childhood. Since the event is not until September, this will give me quite a while to try to come to terms with everything. I wonder what the process will be concerning trying to deal with everything. I can only afford to see her every two weeks, so I hope we can accomplish a lot.

My Psychiatrist: I am now seeing him every three weeks—a far cry from weekly appointments along with daily phone check-ins. R seems pleased with the state of my bipolar disorder, and so am I. The cocktail he has me on (Lamictal 200mg 2/day, Geodon 80mg in the morning and 240mg at bedtime, Provigil 200mg 2x/day, Lexapro 40mg daily, Ativan 2mg 4x/day, and Ambien 20mg at bedtime) has been very productive. I am being cautious about the Lexapro since it is an anti-depressant. In bipolar patients, while these types of drugs can battle the profound depression I found myself in, I have to be aware if I progress to any mania since these drugs can produce this side effect. I am monitoring this very carefully. I do not want to mess with this cocktail as it is servicing a precious need of keeping everything in balance right now. However, R has discussed getting me down to a maintenance cocktail that would probably result in taking me off some of this medication. I do not think I am ready for this yet. It been too soon since I tried to commit suicide. While I have made great strides, I still feel as though, at times, I am teetering on the edge. Even though my next appointment is not until 04 February, I know I can call him at any time. He always calls me back and spends however much time I need without the cost of an office visit. I am very blessed to have such a wonderful psychiatrist.

My return to work: The days leading up to my first day back to work on 04 January was met with much trepidation. I was full of fear and anxiety as much as I tried to stay in the moment. As part of my medical disability status, R sent a letter to the group managing my FMLA program indicating that I should only work four-hour days the first week and six-hour days the second week. My manager was very supportive about that suggestion. I also asked my manager if I could adjust my schedule to work 0700-1530 opposed to 0800-1630 which he agreed to. This serves a two-fold purpose. First, it frees up the afternoon to make available opportunities to have my continued appointments without missing work. Second, I am finished working while the sun is still shining—something that is important to me. I used to hate waking up in the dark and finishing my day in the dark, especially during the Standard Time Zone in winter.

The first two weeks my manager wanted me to concentrate on taking some mandatory computer-based training that was indicated during my absence. Then he wanted me to cull through the 1000+ emails that had collected during the three months I had been away. Just as an aside, no one from work ever knew why I had been on medical leave. Nevertheless, I had to explain to my manager that one of the side effects of my “treatments” was a vitamin B1 deficiency which resulted in a transient short-term memory loss. He seemed to take that OK. But that factor gives me a lot of anxiety as I don’t remember how to do a lot of my job. I was only in this new job for two-and-a-half months before being gone for three. So, I am still on my learning curve. My team may not appreciate the fact that I still have to ask questions, especially on some things of which I had already displayed knowledge.

After the first two weeks, then all of my clients were informed that I was back to supporting their accounts. Just when I had cleaned up my email box, as of the 19th they started flooding in again, yet another source of anxiety. I made it clear that I was not capable of working any overtime, so I am always left with emails that I have not read by the end of the day only to snowball into the next day. Too many critical projects are all happening at the same time. Meanwhile, my day-to-day responsibilities go on.

I try to stay in the moment each day and that, along with relaxation techniques such as being mindful and deep breathing, are helping somewhat. I have to admit, my Ativan plays a roll here as well. My goal is to do the best I can for my clients during my eight-hour day, and when that is over, to simply walk away from the laptop and let my business line go to voicemail (I work from home). I am giving myself room to acknowledge that I am going to be slow on the uptake for a while, but I have to believe that, at some point, I will be back up to speed.

Overall, I am now in a much better space than three months ago. I am quite surprised at the insight I have discovered about myself along the way. I know I will never “recover” from my bipolar disorder and will be on my meds for the rest of my life. That is a sobering thought (and an expensive one—the Geodon alone costs about $1200 before my $1200 yearly deductible is met). It hurt to pay that much a week ago for my refill, but how many people can say that they have met their deductible during the second week of January! At least now, my coverage for everything is at 90%.

I know this was a long entry, but I had so much to review. It is my intention to do a week in review each Saturday since I am back to work full-time. I have to admit, after being on the computer all day at work, sometimes the last thing I want to do is to get back onto my own computer after work.©2009

Outpatient Therapy-Days 27 & 28 (December 21 & 23)

Monday was supposed to be my last day of group—the insurance company had only authorised sessions through then. I was not prepared for it to end. Despite my attitude at the beginning, I have gotten a lot out of this therapy and I think that I have made significant strides. I asked my therapist what process I had to go through for discharge and she told me she didn’t think I was ready, especially with the Christmas holidays coming up—she knew I would be alone as, once again, my family enjoyed their celebration with no nod to me. I am beginning to get used to the idea of spending the entire holiday season alone. My son came to visit me two years ago, but he lives out West and, for both of us, it can get rather expensive just to fly in either direction. So, the therapist told me to return on Wednesday as she was going to submit a request to see if the insurance would authorise additional days.

The second half was on self-esteem—something I am sorely lacking. Despite my butch bravado, I saw traits from the description of those who have poor self-esteem and I ranked right up there. That actually pissed me off a bit. Nevertheless, in reality, I do not always stand up for myself and usually take a back seat. I am not exactly a doormat, but I am not as assertive as I could be. It’s odd as at work I can take the lead with regard to directing projects (considering I have taken that blasted Six Sigma training), but when I am relating to others on a personal level it is more apparent.

As the session drew to a close, I wondered if today was going to be my last day. I gathered my stuff and flew out the door as I had another iron infusion directly after group.

I came back Wednesday morning and was pleased to find out that the insurance company had authorised three more sessions, including Wednesday, through December 30th. That would take me through the New Year’s weekend leading right up to when I was supposed to return to work. When our “small” group was sharing, I tried to process the difficulty and anxiety I was feeling about returning to my job. I fear that I do not remember how to do what I have painstakingly spent three months trying to learn. I try to stay in the moment as I still have another week to go, but I cannot help worrying about it. I feel stuck and do not know how to reinsert myself into the routine. I got a lot of good feedback from the therapist and others, but it did not necessarily quell my anxiety.

The second half of the session was on assertiveness—something that I am not very good at as I am more than likely to be either aggressive or passive aggressive. The entire group, as usual, gathered for this part and our entire group is getting way too large for me. It is enough that my little group, when we split for the first half, has too many people. I have discovered that there are a couple of noisy “talkers” in the other small group. As the therapist began her discussion on this topic, those talkers always had something to say about everything and would get into their own discussions if they disagreed with each other. The more they spoke, the louder they got and more people started getting into the action.

It was becoming too much for me. I wanted to listen to what the therapist had to say and ask my questions if any came up. After a while I thought, hell this is a topic on assertiveness, I think I will try it on for size. Rather than just jumping into the fray as everyone else had been doing, I raised my hand (OK, that does not exactly project an assertive position). The therapist piped up (she was pretty good about keeping the group on topic) and nodded to me. I waited for everyone to get quiet, looked around, and gave everyone eye contact. Then I explained that it was hard for me to be around large groups of people, especially when it got loud and everyone was interrupting each other. I told them that when they got carried away, I felt anxious and asked everyone if they could respect my position.

At first, everyone just stared back at me and then the therapist chimed in first. She said she was glad I spoke up and voiced my concerns and told me that it was an assertive position I took and was very appropriate (I thought to myself, “So there, hah!”). Then the noisiest of the bunch jumped in and said to the therapist, “Excuse me, but don’t you control our group?” She said it was a group discussion, but everyone had to be aware of each other. Then Mr. Noisy said, “Well, I’ll respect your position.” I looked at him and wanted to say, “What am I, chopped liver?” What I really wanted to say was, “Fuck you” but I did not (so OK, I was not completely assertive). For a while everyone seemed to settle down, but it did not take him long to go back to his diatribes and, once again, everything exploded. There were ten minutes left to go, so I just decided the statement I would make would be just to pack up my stuff and leave the room. I was not that quiet about it (here is where I was being passive aggressive), pushed back my chair and got up and walked out of the room. I though, “Well, we’ll have Friday off for Christmas, so that will give me a breather.” However, I was glad my insurance had authorised two more sessions.

Two more days until Christmas. To tell you the truth, this year it has almost snuck by me. I do not get out much so I have not been too exposed to the shopping traffic. Moreover, I definitely do not go to the mall. I have forgotten that it was going to be Christmas on Friday. For me, it will just be another day.©2009

How My Family Treats Me on Thanksgiving

How my family treats me on Thanksgiving—I am not quite sure where to begin. Usually, the feast is held at my nieces’ house with everyone in attendance, some of whom (as in my mother and my sister, the mother of my niece) have to travel about four hours to attend. I myself just live two-and-a-half hours away.

However, several years ago I found out that I was not welcome at my niece’s house. I just happened to call my nephew (who lived in the same city as my niece) to wish him a happy Thanksgiving where he, in turn, ask me what I was planning to do. I replied that I had no plans and he asked me to come with him to my niece’s house where everyone in the family would be attending (he seemed surprised that I knew nothing about it—while I knew my mother and sister would be attending, no invitation ever came from my niece). I told my nephew that I did not receive an invitation, but he just replied that that was nonsense and everyone was going to be there and wasn’t I part of the family? He insisted to the point that I agreed to meet him at his house and go with him.

When I arrived, my niece answered the door and when she saw that I was with her brother, she was clearly not pleased, but couldn’t say anything in front of all of the others. During the course of the appetizer conversation, it became evident to me that I was certainly not welcome by anyone, and my mother looked rather displeased as she must have known that I was not specifically invited. Of course, no one came out and said anything, but clearly, I was uncomfortable at my reception and the duration of the day.

Later on, the following day I queried my mother (the patron saint of protocol) and sister and asked them what the problem was. I was totally clueless. My mother said I shouldn’t have gone since I did not receive an invitation (it sounded as if she knew more, but didn’t say anything). Then I asked my sister and she replied in kind. I asked whatever did I do anything to my niece to warrant such treatment, and the reply I received was that my sister didn’t really know, but that it was my niece’s prerogative and that I should respect it. I was hurt beyond compare, not just at my niece’s reaction, but also by the fact that both my mother and sister appeared to support my niece’s position. On one Thanksgiving, it was actually held at my mother’s house instead (and of course, my niece and her family would be there). Stung by everyone’s long-standing support of my niece and her decision to completely cut me out, I told my mother I would not be attending if she was going to be there and my mother, fearing a scene, thought that would be advisable.

Thanksgiving has always been an important holiday to me as it represented the one time that everyone would be there. Even when my son was a little boy and travelling would make it hard to travel to my mother’s house, I always made a big deal about Thanksgiving, as I wanted to make memories for my son. We always made an ordeal about it from the cooking of the meal to our special outing afterwards to his favourite park he liked to play. I always took many pictures and was pleased that I was started my own traditions with him. As he grew up, we began to travel to my Mom’s house (five hours away) to be with the rest of the family (long before my niece had her own family).

Well, this year the holiday celebration is to be at my nephew’s house instead. I held out hope that maybe I would finally be invited, but no call ever came. I just cried, as it only firmly cemented the fact that I really don’t have a family outside of my son, who now lives on the west coast and celebrates it with his birth father and his grandmother. I cannot afford to fly out to be with them, although I know I would be welcomed.

I did receive a message from a couple at church to join their family at Thanksgiving, but having not attended church for quite sometime, coupled by the fact that her extended family (whom I really don’t know) would be there would make me very uncomfortable. I am sure, out of respect to me, I would not be peppered by questions as to my continued absence from church, but being around a bunch of people, some of whom I do not know is too much for me to handle right now. Following in my mother’s footsteps on proper protocol, I called back, thankfully to have her daughter answer and I just told her to give her mom a message where I thanked her very much for the thoughtful invitation, but I would be unable to attend.

So here I sit, all alone on one of the most important days of the year only to be reminded that I am not wanted by my family.©2009

Individual Therapy #2

I met with my individual therapist yesterday right after group. My head is certainly having the time of its life! I didn’t think I would return after my first visit. However, this session went well. I’ve never done this before as far as dealing with a therapist one-on-one. Still not sure what to expect, but I liked the fact that I seem to get along with her fairly well. She’s upfront and direct—no bullshit. I’m not sure if I am going to chronicle these appointments as it appears that we are going to delve quite heavily into my personal life—more in detail than I want to publish. Suffice it to say that I think I can derive some benefit from this. At first I thought she was sold on DBT therapy (very similar to my group therapy sessions), but it appears not so much. I can’t take any more coping skills sessions than I am already exposed to through my group therapy. I like her (not so sure I can trust her yet; time will have to be the measuring stick on that one) and I feel I’ll be able to open up to her especially where my dysfunctional upbringing comes into play.

Oh, I did find out this morning that my medical disability has been extended through 30 November due to the paperwork my group therapist submitted. Evidently she doesn’t think I’m prepared to face going back to work tomorrow. I’m not being a deadbeat when I say this, but I don’t think I am ready yet to handle that additional stress right now.

Well, my plans for my midnight walks are quashed tonight. It has been raining like cats and dogs all day today. It’s absolutely miserably outside—chilly, dreary and wet.©2009

Birthday Cards

      Yesterday was a rather unexpected day of upheaval. I’ve mentioned before that remembering birthdays is important to me. There are a number of people from whom I expect to receive birthday cards. You’d think that part of the default list would be family members. In addition, there are certain other folks from whom I would expect to receive them. I also believe it is important to acknowledge others’ birthdays: of course family members, but included here, too, are friends. I know what it means when someone takes the time to pick out a special card and write something especially for me. I also know to what lengths I go to choose others’ birthday cards. I always take the time to write something personal for each card I send.

      Have birthday cards gone the way of snail mail opposed to email? No, I don’t think receiving an email for my birthday is the same thing. Email is too casual—too easy. In my opinion, acknowledging someone’s birthday should take some effort. These are milestones in people’s lives. You want to show them that they mean something to you—that their relationship with you is special.

      At one point in my past, I made it a point to always send out birthday cards to everyone that I knew that had a birthday coming up, even to include people that I didn’t know extremely well, like a new neighbor for example. I know what joy I receive when I open up a birthday card someone has sent me. I want to be able to give someone that same joy.

      It doesn’t take much effort. You can buy birthday cards from just about everywhere: grocery stores, the corner drug store, etc. It’s not as if you have to make an extra trip. You know you grocery shop every one to two weeks. Most folks I know hit up their local CVS on a regular basis. I always mark on my calendar everyone’s birthday that I know. Then, usually a week or so beforehand, I put it on my grocery list and voilà, the deed is done. It only takes about five minutes out of your day to inscribe something nice, slap a stamp on it and pop it into the mail. For me, I have to stop by the Post Office throughout the week as that is where I get my mail. For others, simply placing the card in your own mailbox with the red arm raised before your typical pick-up time takes care of having to make the trip to the Post Office. And stamps? I always have stamps around. First of all, I use them to pay my bills. Oh, sure, there are a lot of regular bills I pay online, but there are some that I can’t. I just can’t fathom the concept of someone not having a book of stamps around the house on any given day.

      So, why am I making a big deal about this? Because it is one of the few expectations I have that is important to me…very important. I don’t care if today’s culture places no emphasis on birthday cards. I don’t care if this is now considered a lost art with today’s technical advances in communication. So you might ask right now…what has fueled this diatribe? Why now?

      Well, I’ve been doing a slow burn on this subject for the last couple of years, but something happened to me yesterday (with which I will go into greater detail in just a minute) that brought this whole subject back to the forefront with me.

      Up to a few years ago I sent everyone in my family birthday cards: my son, my mother, my older and younger sister, my brother and his wife, my niece and her children, and my nephew (and his first wife). Now I’m going to sound like a spoiled child here, but this really hurt my feelings. What did I receive in return? Not a whole lot. My niece never acknowledged her birthday cards, much less the fact that I sent them to each of her children. Now, mind you, we weren’t close—geography primarily separated us initially, but she was still family. My brother and his wife almost never acknowledged their cards (oh, every so often I would get a brief email of thanks, so that’s better than most). And I never heard from my nephew. Yes, it is nice to receive that quick phone call of thanks for remembering a birthday, but not wholly expected. What do I expect? That those to whom I send birthday cards would also include me on their list of people they choose to remember and acknowledge with a birthday card to me.

      This year I received one birthday card—from my mother. In fact. That’s what happened a year ago. I actually can’t remember the last time my son sent me a birthday card (and while I’m at it, he hasn’t sent me a Mother’s Day card in years). I decided to be honest with my son this year. After a sufficient time had passed and I knew I could broach this subject without hurt feelings or anger getting in the way, I told my son that my feelings were hurt because he didn’t think enough of me to remember me on my birthdays or Mother’s Day. Now, he’s not some self-absorbed 17-year-old. He’s 26 years old. His response? Too busy, didn’t have any stamps, the post office was always closed by the time he got off from work, etc., etc., etc. Sorry, those excuses just don’t work. It goes the same with every member of my family. Despite every effort I have always made to let someone know that he or she was special, I never received one in return. OK, so I’m having my own little pity party here, but I’ve finally gotten the message. I don’t count.

      This year I received my very own special twist-the-knife-in-my-heart realization. My younger sister a few years ago told me to never write her any more letters—she didn’t have the energy or the desire to respond. Now, you’d have to know her situation. She has major issues and lots of baggage. When she was much younger, many years ago, she battled anorexia long before most people even knew what it was. At the time, there was a general consensus of the family that it was all my fault. I treated her terribly when we were growing up. We were four years apart and I was not a very nice big sister. But truth be told, I treated everyone in my family pretty terribly. I was an asshole. Everyone was equally treated to my angry outbursts and ugliness. What did I know? I was a self-absorbed kid and, later, teenager. And things didn’t change much after I got older and moved out for a long while. Yes, I was battling my own demons benefitting from belonging to one of the most dysfunctional family units I ever knew. But, as I got older, especially after I became a parent, I tried to make peace with everyone in asking for their forgiveness for the way I treated them. I was getting on with my life and it was time to put the past behind me. These people were the only family I had. I had to find a way to make peace with them…they were all I had.

      Well, I respected my sister’s wishes and ceased writing. The standard party line in the family was that my younger sister behaved differently—just accept it for what it is and move on. She had never really recovered from her battle with anorexia and it colored the way she lived the rest of her life. I wasn’t the only one in the family that she treated weirdly, but it did seem to me that I bore the brunt. My mother’s response? Just give her the space and ignore it. However, I really didn’t think that her request to cease and desist the letter-writing included birthday cards. After all, doesn’t everyone send people birthday cards? A week after her birthday this year, I received something in the mail from her. When I saw the handwriting on the envelope, I was excited. I didn’t even wait to get home from the Post Office. I opened up right then and there. To my utter shock, she had returned my birthday card unopened along with a very hurtful letter basically screaming to leave her the hell alone. In part she wrote, “…you really don’t have to make such gestures because all I want from you is to leave me alone.” There was more written—words that cut through my heart. Now, try to keep this in mind…she’s 48 years old. Maybe someone should tell her, “By God, just grow up and deal with it and get on with your life.” But no one in the family would ever say that to her (God only knows the number of times my own mother would tell me that when I would hit low points in my life later and was wrestling with resurfaced, old memories that brought back hurt and pain from the hands of someone else in my family. According to her, all of the pain I had experienced, and trust me when I tell you that there was one situation that caused me considerable pain that caused me to seek serious therapy much later—but that all my hurts were of my own making).

      My mother actually defended those who hurt me over the years. The most ironic part revolved around the fact that these family members were “Christians,” and that, yes, I was forgiven. But how does that speak to the fact that when I called my mother on various occasions to try to glean some understanding to why certain family members actually cut me out of their lives in a very public and ugly fashion, out of the same mouth I was again reminded of how cruel I was when I was much younger. Where is the forgiveness there? I know that people can forgive yet not forget—I get that. But to have the past thrown in your face yet again as the reason why I was getting treated the way I was is a far cry from what I understand where a true Christian’s heart should be if they have forgiven you. I look back to a horrendous experience I suffered as a five-year-old at the hands of a family member. For years, I suppressed those memories. Later, after coming out of the fog of a drug-addicted lifestyle, I confronted my mother. I asked her why this happened to me. I asked her why it was swept under the rug and never talked about. I was the innocent victim and now, years later, I was only then dealing with the raw emotions that were just being brought to the forefront. Her response? She first tried to deny that it ever happened, but I wouldn’t let her get away with that. Then she said she refused to dredge up the past and wouldn’t discuss it with me. All I was looking for was some measure of comfort, love and support, and the door was slammed in my face.

      To make matters even more clearly defined as to where I stood in the pecking order, a few years after that fated phone call, I was invited to my parent’s 50th wedding anniversary party. I was living far away by that point in my life and plans had to be made to take the time off. Assuming that everyone in the family, far and wide, was being invited, I felt it was fair of me to ask if this particular family member would be there. I had not been in the same room as this person since all those horrible memories finally resurfaced. I wasn’t sure how I would handle seeing this person again. My mother’s response? She got angry with me and told me that I had better not make a scene. I was shell-shocked. Well, I knew how important this event was to my parents, so I rose to the occasion and attended and I behaved like a good little girl. Everything was always about appearances with my mother. We always had to behave like good little boys and girls in public. After all, my mother was the president of the Officer’s Wives Club, the president of the PTA. What would people think?

      I mentioned forgiveness earlier. A few years later, I came to know the Lord as my Savior. I learned what it meant to walk with the Lord. The first time I really read and understood the Lord’s Prayer when I first encountered it in the Bible (I was brought up as a “good little Catholic girl,” but back then, all those prayers just rolled off my tongue by rote), I understood that I couldn’t expect the Lord to forgive me of my sins if I wasn’t able to forgive others who sinned against me. I thought about the pain and hurt that this family member caused me and I wanted to let go of all that emotional suffering. I wanted to be able to truly forgive. I prayed very hard about that and asked the Lord to help me reach a point where I could honestly forgive and move on. He answered that prayer, and soon, all of those emotions just became distant memories. Even writing about it now does not evoke any emotional tug with me. No, I don’t think I will ever forget what happened, but I just don’t think about it any more and I plain just don’t care any more. Only God could have given me that sense of peace. And today I can have a conversation with that person as if nothing ever happened. I don’t throw that experience in anyone’s face to justify how I once felt about that person. I forgave and moved on. That’s what I have come to understand what it means to forgive from a Christian perspective.

      Getting that note from my younger sister yesterday really brought back every single painful memory I have of my family—both as a child and then even years later as we grew up and went our separate ways. We’re not really a family any more. Of all of the family members out there I would have to say that the one tie that binds us all together in some fashion is my mother. I’ve kept a close relationship with her. I’ve stayed in touch with my older sister from time to time, but it’s very limited. A phone call here and there, the rare email. My older brother and his wife are in a world of their own. I think he redefined his image of what family is after he and his wife set up house out West. He never reaches out to me (or pretty much any one else in the family with perhaps the exception of my mother); I’ve always been the one to initiate any communication. And you’ve already learned that I have been excommunicated from my younger sister. And forget about extended family members. Oh, my niece and nephew are, of course, close to my older sister, and my niece knows she’s the fair-haired child having produced my mother’s great grand children. But I am still persona non grata in her eyes (I quit asking what I ever did to earn that position—again more dysfunction—my older sister won’t talk about it and specifically forbade me from confronting my niece).

      That pecking order I mentioned? I think I am pretty far down the rung. In everyone’s eyes, all of the dysfunction is my fault. I am somehow responsible for everyone’s major pain. At least I came to that conclusion when I talked to my mother yesterday about my younger sister’s response to my birthday card. With very few words, she simply reminded me of just how ugly I had been to everyone, so what else could I expect. She very gallantly reminded me that now I was a good Christian and I was just going to have to let all of that go (while out of the same mouth still defending everyone’s actions to me).

      Well, she is right. I do have to let it go. God has blessed me this year quite extraordinarily. I received from Him a very personal miracle that saw me through the worst situation I ever had to deal with when I was suddenly laid off with a 60-day notice in May. I got to experience what it truly meant to just simply trust in God. I had no idea how I was going to survive being unemployed, but I knew in my heart that I wasn’t going through this journey alone. I knew God loved me and only wanted the best for me. Even knowing that I faced losing everything, all I wanted was to do what was God’s will for me in my life. If that meant losing everything, so be it. All I had was my trust in Him. My miracle? 55 days into that 60-day notice God blessed me with another job, one that was better than the one I lost.

      Yes, today I am hurting. My emotions are raw. My worldly reaction is to spurn away everyone in my family. But that will only hurt me in the long run. If I choose that road to walk down, I am letting Satan rob me of all of the joy I received from the incredible blessing God bestowed upon me. God will see me through this pain. He will heal my heart. He will show me yet again how to forgive the unforgivable. My concept of family will change. I may not have much of an earthly family anymore, but I have something far greater. I am a child of God, and I am part of His family. There is nothing greater.

      And birthday cards? Well, I have to learn to lower my expectations. There will be many who won’t be receiving cards from me anymore, but I can live with that. God knows my birthday even before He created me. That’s good enough for me.©2009