Read on if you really wish to understand the darker side, otherwise ignore blog... look at the pretty Royal Wedding Blogs
Some readers will understand these thoughts... others will not. Such is the life of a person with BMD. I do not know how to chart the last seven days, my moods have been so labile, ranging from -4 through to possible +1 on the highest level.
Such small things to some people but huge for me. I cannot, no matter how hard I try, shut out the sort of aura generated by people around me. On one of my wellness clinic days there is one woman who is like a black cloud of maudlin self pity. I can empathise with her yet she makes me so angry that her attention seeking poor me behaviour virtually destroys the whole point of the wellness group, to actually get our feelings aired and cleansed without the need for words or tissue boxes. Why does she have to be so needy? She is 'acting out' for admission to an inpatients ward, and I know how desperate one can become for this respite. I know I SHOULD (there's that problematic word again) have a more caring and supportive attitude but bugger that, she makes me and others there feel worse. She is a black cloud! I used to think it was autism spectrum and so self isolated and gave her the benefit of kind thoughts... but now I am just angry and turning it inwards... as I always do, and feeling guilty I cannot express my anger in any positive way. I can't even have the confidence to say "It would help me to have some ambient background music... so we all struggle on victims of her deathly silence".
On another day, I attended a wellness talk fest and it just happened to be after a 'fight with my son'. I saw it as a fight. I had just gone to bed to read peacefully IN MY SAFE SPACE... my bedroom, my sancturary before embarking on my yoga session to wind down. I was having good old laughter therapy with QI, Adam Hills, Spicks and Specks ... and confessionally lusting after the actor who plays crime writer Rick Castle. My son felt he had the right to enter my bedroom, no knocking of course and berate me for being a Telstra client because HIS internet connection had dropped out. I am always being blamed that Telstra is not a good enough ISP (to his liking) yet I am of gthe opinion if Telstra owns the hardware and the whole family is gaining advantage through Tesltra via bundling and options that save over $100 per month... that's a positive despite a four month battle with the TIO and their billing system (which is also wearing me down).
Apparently the storming into my room was to see what I was doing either on my laptop or streaming via my T-box that could be causing his drop outs and latency whilst gaming online. I was doing neither. My laptop in my study where it stays... it does not come into my bedroom sanctuary unless I am very ill. The T-box was simply replaying already taped programs... yet he felt he could enter and abuse me for my choice of ISP and virtually demand I divide up everything again, without even offering to pay the difference... with him twice before having caused $900 and $500 excess charges without any offer of repaying! The he becomes more abusive and he tells me to "get fucked". I say I am in my bedroom "You Fuck Off... how dare you". Doors slam. I am a mess and yoga is totally useless after that.
So bright and sparky along I go to yoga next day after dredging up semblance of 'normal person' then find younger inpatients who are at that very early hopeful stage of parenting attempt to tell me that my son should grow up and own his own shit.... Really tell me something I don't know! Also walk in my shoes first. I walk on eggshells with both people I live with. the older 80 year old only sees and complains about the emotional damage being done to him by said son, whilst being unwilling/unable to cut purse strings as he knows that is his only connection AT ALL with son, then he bitches at me that the son won't/doesn't ever say thanks or ask after his health.
I cracked it and said... it's not just about you.... two parents are being hurt here but you only care about yourself. I was then told by older one to "fuck off and get a job" in other words stop being a bludger bringing in not enough income for household... this with me on DSP and paying off my own car, the family health insurance, and old ones funeral plan and not costing a cent to feed as i get my meal replacements via the health insurance.... then to have a young Mum claim how she is able to 'break cycle of domestic abuse'for her daughter by just growing up and being an adult. I saw red.... ever heard of frontal lobe development occasionally delayed in young men... I still believe generally that before age 25 damaged young men CANNOT act rationally and see consequences of their actions... hey girl know the full story before passing judgement... then I disintegrated in boxes of tissues and tears. Post script... she latter shows me phone pics of her bruising by her partner as result of domestic violence... yep definitely breaking cycle for her child! Angry again and turning it inwards.
I should have made a weekly appointment with my psychiatrist but no... I am strong, I am on leave from my studies, I am free to get well.... yeah sure.
Last week it all began with me underestimating the impact it would have on me attending my University work space and packing five years of research material (and personal memorabilia) into three very large suitcases as a form of separation. Well boy did I underestimate that sense of loss of belonging after doing this.
So together they all came out in one explosive crying session which almost began at yoga. It suddenly occurred to me that when we lay in savasna (repose) I noticed that the soft comfy blankets are square and I always have to decide to have shoulders out or arms palms up covered. Often my feet fall out, and the yogi comes around and tucks the soft blanket under my toes. I am immediately transported back to childhood, like when a Mum tucks in a child at night. These two sessions are the only times a week I feel ANY HUMAN CONTACT.... it so overwhelmingly alone'ness'.
The day of this realisation I learn that another acquaintance with child same age as mine could no longer stand the chronic pain (or that's how the normal people described it) and suicided. I know the pain he was in and it is more than physically chronic it is beyond that and once it has gripped it is unstoppable. Even his passion for the arts could not counterbalance this 'black dog'. Please dearest W I hope you have found peace at last.