What not to say...

My mom hasn't been over since I was diagnosed. This week was super busy for her so she missed her usual days with the Buddy. I was looking forward to her getting here today so much. I should have known better. Without going into our entire backstory (mothers and daughters... you don't want to go there) I can say that pretty much every time I have an expectation of comfort it blows up in my face.

You would think that by now I would have learned. We just aren't good at that.

She came in upset. We used to work together and a mutual friend asked me via email how I was doing. I told her that I had been diagnosed and that I was taking my meds and would be ok. Apparently she told people at work and some of them asked my mom if I was ok. When mom thought that I was "Supermom" she was more than happy to brag to everyone in the office. Now that I'm struggling she's a private person and did I realize that our co-worker was such a gossip?

I had apologized before I realized what I was saying. How ridiculous of me it was to apologize for telling the truth about what I'm going through.

She asked what she can do to help. I told her that I didn't know. Adam and I are trying to work out some schedule that will help both of us stay healthy and sane. He needs to keep up with his workouts and I need to start getting out of the house. We had talked about her maybe being able to help us with this, but I wasn't ready to ask for any of that yet.

She wasn't finished - apparently all I need to do is get out more. If I would just stop isolating myself I'd be fine.  I liked it when I when to lunch with my dad last week - why don't I do that more?  It's not fair for Adam to have to do everything.

And the best:  Did I think she was never depressed? There are some days that she doesn't want to get up and go out too. 

That's when I lost it. I yelled - I don't remember what I said exactly but it was something about her NOT being medically depressed and it NOT being the same thing.

I was hurt on so many levels. Obviously she had no understanding about what I'm going through. We'd been emailing and I gave her a link for a website with information for friends and family. Apparently THAT was a waste of my time.

Did she ever ask how I was feeling? How I was doing? What the hell was going on in my head? No. Does she have any idea how hard it is for me to even touch my baby? How devastated, guilty and low that makes me feel - all day and every day.

If there was something I could do that would just fix it - wouldn't I do that? I'm taking the damn meds. I took a shower. We're working on getting him to sleep more and come up with some kind of schedule so that we're trading off night duties. I'm writing to all of you. And still, this will be a process. It will take however long it takes. I'm holding on to the idea that the Zoloft will start to work soon and that combined with getting more sleep will start to help.

I should talk to her about this. I should try to explain. I need her help and will continue to need her help and she needs to know what I'm facing. I understand all of that but right now I just want her out of my house. I started writing this to keep from screaming and yelling and totally breaking down. Buddy is awake and he doesn't need to hear that. Adam just got home and has no idea what's going on. He needs a break so he can eat and settle in before taking over for a while. Buddy needs some actual cuddle time and interaction that I can't give him right now. So instead of screaming and yelling like a 5 year old I'm writing this blog post. I am writing and breathing.

Later I'll figure out how to talk to her.

Later I'll deal with my hurt feelings.

For now I'll just breathe.

Graeme Seabrook