::"That's it, I quit, I'm movin' on..."
12:46 p.m. - 2004-08-20
For being busy, I've been on here a lot today. I guess I just have a lot on my chest and I'm not being very effective in expressing it.
2004 has been a different kind of year for me than I've ever had before. It has been the year where I learned to tell people to fuck off. I used to be too polite and care too much about everyone around me, and I didn't want to get in trouble or make anyone mad (I shit you not), so I went out of my way to smooth things over and be nice as much as possbile, even though I was somethimes reething inside. Tears would stream down my face becuase the anger that I had inside was so intense that I physically had to keep myself from destroying whatever was in front of me. For a while, I thought that being with SW had somehow curbed me of this intense anger - he understands me and is very good at diffusing me when I get upset. He also usually understands my point of view on things when my insane (they are insane, and that's just all that there is to it, I've realized) family would break my heart over and over and make me hurt so badly.
The thing is, I am every bit as angry as that today, about this situation with my mother. I hate what has become of her. I am having a very, very hard time with the idea that I have to accept that this is all that is left of her. My sister thinks that I am very wrong and that my mother would have died long ago from an emotion induced heart attack if she wasn't on this medicine. That might be so, but I still don't think she needs to be on the high dose that she is. She asked me to please not fight with my mother anymore because she might not be around very much longer and I'll regret this. I appreciate where she is coming from, but the motivation behind why I am so upset about it is that I want her to regain her life and to *want* to live, and then she could perhaps start making some steps toward getting better instead of just accepting that she's worse.
At this point, I don't know how my concern is helping anyone at all. My concern has turned into anger with the situation (not necessarily at my mom), and I'm taking it out on her, I think. She doesn't want me to try and help her to some something different in her life, just just wants to stay the way she is.
So, I am officially giving up on this. I don't really know how to give up on something that I care about, because it is something that I have never done before. However, because it is clear that noone wants my involvement, I am going to withdraw it. I don't know how I will handle things the next time my mother calls me and cries that she wants to kill herself because things are so bad for her, but I guess I'll just wait and hope that I won't have to cross that bridge. Maybe her psychiatrist will prescribe her so much schizophrenic medicine that she'll never even think anything like that ever again.
So, it's ust another one of those fuck offs. This year I have told my father and his girlfriend to fuck off permanently, his girlfriend's son to fuck off (permanently, as far as I am concerned), my sister to get fucked on several occasions, although that one has yet to set in, it seems. I am now telling this situation to get fucked. It's crap, but I can't do anything about it anymore. I have to let it go.
For the record, though, I still don't understand when exactly my mother "became schizophrenic." It seemed like way back when, she was given a medicine that is used to treat schizophrenia by one of her doctors because it had other properties that would help her. She went through this whole thing about "Am I a schizophrenic now that I'm taking medicine for schizophrenics?" I remember this conversation clearly, because I remember saying over and over again, "Just because they gave you this medicine doesn't mean that you are schizophrenic!" Then somewhere along the line she "became" schizophrenic. I asked her about it some months ago and said, "But you were never diagnosed with schizophrenia, were you? "Oh, yes," she replied. "I am a full-blown schizophrenic." Whatever the hell that means. I almost think that maybe she has talked herself into thinking that this is her problem when it really isn't. I would really like the chance to talk to her doctor so that I can understand what her diagnosis really is. There must be something going on - don't get me wrong - after all, she wouldn't be on Abilify if they didn't think she needed it (but of course, I could be really cynical and say that they all make money on these things, too, even when not needed).
Anyway, I give up. Officially. I know that I won't be able to talk to her doctors - she's an adult and only 51 and there is no way I could ever be given responsibility for her health decisions when she is married. I don't know if I would really want that responsibility, anyway.
I'll have to keep telling myself that if she is happy and this is what she wants, I have no place trying to change it. Even if I can't completely believe that she really is happy and this is really what she wants.
But, I'm so stubborn, I probably wouldn't ever be able to compeltely accept something that I can't believe myself.
Oh, and the thing about the dresser out of a third story window - when I was in elementary school, probably about in the 3rd grade, I remember this incident when my mother got really, really angry. I have no idea why she was this angry, but she was. She got so pissed that she picked up an entire 4 drawer dresser full of clothing and threw the entire fucker out of the window of our 3rd floor vicotrian flat into the back yard. It was smashed into tiny pieces! It's pretty hilarious, in retrospect.
