Sleep? Can I just sleep?
It's the cry of mothers (and parents) everywhere. Can I just sleep? Can I just take this afternoon and forget the world and SLEEP?
I still feel like crap.
My body hurts all over, from my skull to my feet, my chest is tight, my back aches, I am a breathing heap of anxiety and tension. How I would love to my internal massage, a couple of pain pills to relax my nervous system and allow me to just rest and let the walls down.
But I am WOUND UP!
I've been using the husband's cpap machine the past few nights. I thought maybe that's why I've been having such weird and disturbing dreams. Maybe it's the antidepressant I'm on. Maybe I've just got a crapload of garbage floating in my head, both real and imagined.
I've been thinking a lot about depression and the effect of multiple psychological traumas (mostly caused by physical events) in my early childhood that create this chronic post-traumatic stress disorder. It's not one specific event but the continuation of events and multiple traumas. Every trauma and abuse changed my brain chemistry. The childhood stuff I managed to get through. The last 6 years have been the real life altering changes that I have not been able to bounce back from. My mom getting sick, her passing away, my getting pregnant and my dad being sick. I was sick/having problems with my pregnancy, too. My dad was in the hospital at the same time I had my baby. They allowed him to come down from the floor where he was to see me and hold his new grandson. My dad was sooooo sick. I was so happy for those 3 months where my dad was able to hold my baby, have pictures with my kids, etc. But I was still mourning my mom. I had my own post-partum depression, then my dad dies. Yeah, just a whole lotta crisis. Those 5 months of my mom in the hospital, she couldn't talk for much of it and I was by her side every day while my kids were at school. I was her voice. Me, the one who felt as though I had no voice. Me, the one who was too small and too damaged and too shy and too embarrassed to even ask for what *I* wanted, had to speak for my mom. My mom, who had always been my ally. My mom, who was my best friend, who loved me unconditionally. I felt guilty that there were times I'd see the caller ID and know it was my mom calling me from the hospital and I would dread it. Would she have the trach plugged so she could talk? Would she be trying to call me at 2am to come down to the nursing home to fix something?
I still have guilt that if I had recognized my mom's symptoms for what they were the day that she went into the hospital then she might still be alive. Or at least she might have recovered enough to go home and live at home for a while. I feel like I did not recognize a stroke for what it was.
Back to reality. Demolition needs me.
dea
I still feel like crap.
My body hurts all over, from my skull to my feet, my chest is tight, my back aches, I am a breathing heap of anxiety and tension. How I would love to my internal massage, a couple of pain pills to relax my nervous system and allow me to just rest and let the walls down.
But I am WOUND UP!
I've been using the husband's cpap machine the past few nights. I thought maybe that's why I've been having such weird and disturbing dreams. Maybe it's the antidepressant I'm on. Maybe I've just got a crapload of garbage floating in my head, both real and imagined.
I've been thinking a lot about depression and the effect of multiple psychological traumas (mostly caused by physical events) in my early childhood that create this chronic post-traumatic stress disorder. It's not one specific event but the continuation of events and multiple traumas. Every trauma and abuse changed my brain chemistry. The childhood stuff I managed to get through. The last 6 years have been the real life altering changes that I have not been able to bounce back from. My mom getting sick, her passing away, my getting pregnant and my dad being sick. I was sick/having problems with my pregnancy, too. My dad was in the hospital at the same time I had my baby. They allowed him to come down from the floor where he was to see me and hold his new grandson. My dad was sooooo sick. I was so happy for those 3 months where my dad was able to hold my baby, have pictures with my kids, etc. But I was still mourning my mom. I had my own post-partum depression, then my dad dies. Yeah, just a whole lotta crisis. Those 5 months of my mom in the hospital, she couldn't talk for much of it and I was by her side every day while my kids were at school. I was her voice. Me, the one who felt as though I had no voice. Me, the one who was too small and too damaged and too shy and too embarrassed to even ask for what *I* wanted, had to speak for my mom. My mom, who had always been my ally. My mom, who was my best friend, who loved me unconditionally. I felt guilty that there were times I'd see the caller ID and know it was my mom calling me from the hospital and I would dread it. Would she have the trach plugged so she could talk? Would she be trying to call me at 2am to come down to the nursing home to fix something?
I still have guilt that if I had recognized my mom's symptoms for what they were the day that she went into the hospital then she might still be alive. Or at least she might have recovered enough to go home and live at home for a while. I feel like I did not recognize a stroke for what it was.
Back to reality. Demolition needs me.
dea
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