The Wreckage
Today I went to see my doctor. I broke down. I told her I have become estranged with my family. I told her that I am struggling beyond what I can handle on my own anymore. I asked her for help. And she, in her kind, caring, confident way, responded. She did not rush me. She did not look away. She was steady. She brought up my birth father, who has been her patient as well. When I told her that I feel guilty about not having him in my life, she so sincerely reassured me that it was a healthy boundary. She reassured me that those are important boundaries. She asked about my support system. She knew all the right things to say. She asked if I am open to medication and I said that I have not wanted to explore that up until now but that I know that I need the help now. I have coped without medication my whole life, but this last stretch has been too long, with too little ability to work through it as it comes.
I feel so sad and relieved to have filled a prescription today. Tomorrow morning I will begin to take medication for anxiety. It really does feel like a separate chapter. Something has ended. More than my relationship with my family. My belief that I can do it on my own. Maybe that wasn't a good belief. But I felt proud of getting through. I felt a confidence that I knew how. Until I didn't. I keep feeling like I almost can. But almost isn't enough. Almost doesn't cut it. Not as a parent.
I will use this blog to document this part of my journey. The last blog was walking away. Now I need to deal with the wreckage. I don't want to take medication long term. I hope it can give me some space to work through the pain and that I can come out of this all with some rooted, non-medication related peace.
So, here is my record of how I feel going in. I broke down on Sunday. My life felt like a tarp that has been trying to keep me and my family dry, but the rain has gone on for so long that it was sagging, dripping right through, and the ropes holding it up were ready to give way. My husband just lifted it up, effortlessly drained the water off, and held me. I felt so relieved. We went for dinner for our anniversary. It was so beautiful, that dinner out with him. A date. I don't know how he does it, but he treats me like the girl he can't get enough of, even in my toughest times. All week I keep thinking back to that day. How his love actually lifted me up, out of a place I didn't feel like I could get out from. His love dusted me off and made me able to smile and laugh and love.
I feel so fortunate. For him, for Ivy and for my closest friends. I have lost the family I knew, but these people are my family now, and they are healthy, caring people who don't hurt me. I am grateful I can at least see this, even if I can't quite let go of the past yet.
After the meeting with my mom, I knew that I can't have her in my life anymore. I carried on like usual with this bomb inside of me. I have been estranged long enough, that it seems like it should just be business as usual. I suspected that all along, but there was this little flame of hope inside of me. It was dangerous and a bad idea, but it was there and it was a comfort. And now it's gone. And I don't know how to deal.
I feel so sad and relieved to have filled a prescription today. Tomorrow morning I will begin to take medication for anxiety. It really does feel like a separate chapter. Something has ended. More than my relationship with my family. My belief that I can do it on my own. Maybe that wasn't a good belief. But I felt proud of getting through. I felt a confidence that I knew how. Until I didn't. I keep feeling like I almost can. But almost isn't enough. Almost doesn't cut it. Not as a parent.
I will use this blog to document this part of my journey. The last blog was walking away. Now I need to deal with the wreckage. I don't want to take medication long term. I hope it can give me some space to work through the pain and that I can come out of this all with some rooted, non-medication related peace.
So, here is my record of how I feel going in. I broke down on Sunday. My life felt like a tarp that has been trying to keep me and my family dry, but the rain has gone on for so long that it was sagging, dripping right through, and the ropes holding it up were ready to give way. My husband just lifted it up, effortlessly drained the water off, and held me. I felt so relieved. We went for dinner for our anniversary. It was so beautiful, that dinner out with him. A date. I don't know how he does it, but he treats me like the girl he can't get enough of, even in my toughest times. All week I keep thinking back to that day. How his love actually lifted me up, out of a place I didn't feel like I could get out from. His love dusted me off and made me able to smile and laugh and love.
I feel so fortunate. For him, for Ivy and for my closest friends. I have lost the family I knew, but these people are my family now, and they are healthy, caring people who don't hurt me. I am grateful I can at least see this, even if I can't quite let go of the past yet.
After the meeting with my mom, I knew that I can't have her in my life anymore. I carried on like usual with this bomb inside of me. I have been estranged long enough, that it seems like it should just be business as usual. I suspected that all along, but there was this little flame of hope inside of me. It was dangerous and a bad idea, but it was there and it was a comfort. And now it's gone. And I don't know how to deal.
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