2007-08-02
a revelation
|"Mourning has become unfashionable in the United States. The bereaved are supposed to pull themselves together as quickly as possible and to reweave the torn fabric of life." -Margaret Mead
I found that quote over at Dr. Bruce Campbell's site today and I have to say it is very timely and apropos for me.
Without getting too maudlin and mired in too much detail I have had a depressing, bordering on devastating, revelation in the last two weeks. I have spoken to two different medical personnel and some advocacy groups regarding the state of my mother's Alzheimer's. Both of the medical folk had a grave response via their body language and/or the actual words they spoke. It's funny, but I think it took someone with medical credibility to shake me out of my denial. My mother is really sick and this disease will become terminal.
I have no idea if she will live for another three years or if she will drop dead tomorrow from a heart attack. I'm just saying that I have approached the point where I can no longer fool myself about her declining health.
And strangely enough this depression feels different. It has an anxiety component to it kind of like the days of old for me.
I realized yesterday that I am reverting to my time-honored methods of dealing with anxiety. Again without getting into unnecessary detail, suffice it to say I had a stressful childhood. As a child I had four methods of coping: writing in a journal, reading books for hours on end, avoiding food due to a stomach tied in knots and spending time alone at a small pier that overlooked the Detroit River.
So I realized today that I have been falling into my old pattern: I've been immersing myself in reading books as a diversion. I have taken the time the babysitter comes over to sit by myself outside to distract myself with people watching. I have this electronic journal and I have experienced that constant knot in my stomach. My stomach is like a feral cat that hisses and bares its teeth when food comes near it. At times it feels like my stomach is actually curling in upon itself as if it is attempting to secede from the rest of the organs and become its own sovereign nation. On the plus side, I've lost a couple of pounds.
Like my dad always says, "It's all how you look at it. You could say you are depressed or you could say you are happy you've lost some weight."
We visited the in-laws this past weekend and to my surprise everyone noticed my depression. That was a big shock to me. I thought I had a decent poker face, and I am learning that is not the case at all. In fact my mother-in-law called my husband last night and suggested to him perhaps I should take some kind of medication and think about counseling.
When my husband told me that I laughed ruefully and said, "Imagine how crazy she would think I was if she knew I've been medicated for two years and have been seeing a therapist for three years."
I feel like I am being painted into a corner. There's nowhere left to step and for some crazy reason I feel like I have a fighting chance to climb the walls or hang from the ceiling. I don't know if that's denial or hope -- thinking I have a fighting chance to climb the walls. My mood toggles between complete shut-down and unleashed fury. I have posed the questioned to myself: is this what it's like to go crazy?
I'm hoping as long as I have the ability to question it, I have a shred of sanity left.
2007-08-02 at 7:16 a.m.
