I Will Not Cry Now

pixelated family tree

To avoid feeling overwhelmed and hold back the tears due to loss, stress and worry, I’ve started delving into my ancestry online.

My therapist reframed what I was doing as focusing, rather than avoidance. She thought it was healthy.

Now that my father has passed away and my mother’s health has faltered, I’m really, really sad. I miss them both.

My father is gone. My mother is still with us, but I miss speaking with her, playing word games with her, walking with her, taking her out for lunch.

The pain at times overwhelms me. I don’t want to fall into bipolar depression, hypomania, or mood cycling.

To stave off the pain, I click through the family tree, digging further and further back.

Hate when hit dead ends, especially when it comes to my mother’s beloved Irish grandmother with whom she lived when she attended college.

Exhausted While Bipolar

I'm Bipolar & I'm Exhausted
Exhausted by life stressors. Understandably so. I have this. Just takes a LOT of energy.

Recently I’ve been totally overwhelmed and exhausted. A virus almost took my mother’s life. Thank God she survived.

Loving someone who is struggling for their life is hard. Really hard.

I, too, was sick and avoided seeing my mother until she got so sick that cross-contamination was no longer an issue.

Now, I’m still recovering, physically and emotionally. Exhausted. Totally exhausted.

St. Patrick's Day. Miss my father today, my parents' first wedding anniversary since my father's death.

Creative Writing Prompt: Rainstorm

Irainstorm

Prompt for first creative writing class: RAINSTORM

Rainstorm

The torrential rain kept her awake. She couldn’t sleep. Wasn’t rain supposed to be relaxing? What was it that disturbed her? Why could she not sleep? The rain didn’t lull her, it irritated her. Reminded her that all was not well. The hills may slide. The mud carrying all away. But she was safe. Wasn’t she?

Was it anxiety? Was it caffeine? Was it simply the din amplified by hypomania? Yes, when in this state any noise irritated her. What the hell did she think she was doing this week? Starting to rewrite her book, take a creative writing class, and work out with a personal trainer on the same week her son began college.

He wasn’t away for college. Oh, no. He was attending the local community college and didn’t yet drive. So, on top of everything else, she remained his chauffeur. Fuck. He was getting better. He was more independent than before, but he still relied on her to drive him to classes and to doctors’ appointments. He still didn’t prepare his own breakfast and lunch. He’d just eat a protein bar and banana. At six feet tall and 125 pounds, he needed to eat more.

Caring for him, worrying about him, wore on her. She had hoped that he’d be eating more by now, that he’d make a sandwich or eat a bowl of cereal. She had hoped that he’d feel ready to take his DMV written test, so he could learn to drive.

Though, really, the time that they spent in the car was their special time. Often he wore his headset and cut her off from him. But, there were times when they talked, when they laughed, when he shared his thoughts with her

Back to the storm. Crap transition, but the rainstorm felt like her life. Stormy, but cleansing.