It’s odd to see such weather in my home province right now. The weather can jump literally 20 degrees from one day to the next. This kind of weather can wear on a person’s psyche. Especially when it’s already fragile. I feel like I’ve got cabin fever, I want to go outside. And then my anxiety snaps to attention for reasons that I can logically see are ridiculous, and it makes me angry. I hate that everything has all come crashing down at once, and I am angry with myself for not being able to snap out of it. I know what you’re going to say. I know. I know that I can’t just snap out of it. I can’t help being angry about it. I’m angry that I’m angry about it. I’m just quite fucked up these days. I spend a lot of time staring out my window, trying to grab hold of some sense of calm, and so far, it’s not working.
I had my appointment with the grief counselor for the first time on Monday. I spent the whole time crying, and told her everything. Every detail. I couldn’t stop it, just came tumbling out of me like water. Maybe it was good. I don’t know yet. The counselor is a lovely woman, very easy to talk to, and I guess that’s what makes her good at her job. I have another appointment with her this coming Monday. She’s told me what I already know, I am in the “severely depressed” category, and it’s good that I’m seeking help returning to normal. After a month on Citalopram, I can’t say it’s working or it’s not, I don’t feel any different, I don’t feel any better. But it takes longer than a month to repair something that’s been broken for this long. I just know that I don’t feel right, and that feeling makes me anxious. And frustrated. And lonely. And tired. And scared. But I guess that’s all to be expected.
My ass hurts. I skidded on a patch of ice a few days ago, and landed really hard on my right butt cheek. Just like in the movies, feet flying out from under me, waving arms in the air like a crazy person, ricochet off the side of the car kind of fall. And I kind of ripped it. Well, sort of. I tore a my hamstring, right up where it connects to my butt. So, I have one dark purple ass cheek and leg, while the other is a blinding shade of Irish white. I hobble on a crutch when I need to, and I am a plethora of pain killing medication, but I’m housebound for the next week or so. I have to ice my butt. The very thing that caused this is going to now help it. You think politicians are crooks? Ice will kick your ass, just to have a job later. Ice sucks.
Because of my broken butt, and today’s shit weather, my right sciatic nerve is screaming. I feel like it’s reaming me a new asshole, and all at the same time, it’s making me sad, because it makes me realise that I’m more and more like my mother every day. Right now to the broken right ass cheek. Seriously? Yeah. When my mom was pregnant with me, I somehow squished her right sciatic nerve, and it never full recovered. For the next 31 years, off and on, she’d have shooting pains from her butt to her heel. Sorry mom. I can honestly say that I know how those feel, and I’m sorry. And that makes me cry too. Knowing that I caused her 31 years of pain, just by being. Is there anything that won’t make me miserable? Is there anything that won’t remind me of her, and how much I miss her? The grief counselor said I should write some letters to her, tell her how I feel. But how can I do that when just remembering her makes me sob so hard I can’t see? This is getting out of control, and I can’t fucking stand it. I don’t want to cry every time I think of my mother. Fuck, I want to smile, because she made me smile.
So, now I’m sitting here, listening to Phil Coulter (one of my mother’s favourites, yet another thing we have in common), icing my poor broken ass, trying not to cry, trying not to scream in agony and anger and frustration (Chad is still sleeping… backshift). I’m thinking of all the things I want to do this year, to improve myself, to make myself better, calmer, happier. I don’t know where to start. I’ve done alright with my resolutions so far, I’m on track with several of them. I’ve only had soda once this year so far and no chips, cookies or candy, and that’s a far cry from soda and junk food almost every day. I’ve begun my fat girl yoga again, but for now, I’m limited with my movements because of the fall. I managed to clean out the second bedroom in a day and set up some of my craft room so yay, I have a hobby while I’m too anxious to go outside. I feel like something is missing. And not the obvious. I feel like I’m not doing enough to better myself, to improve, and that’s stressing me out too. I don’t have any answers and I need to have some answers. I don’t know where to find the answers either.