Don’t drink, don’t smoke, what do you do? An Introspective.

It’s been awhile since I was writing regularly. I suffer from severe anxiety and chronic severe depression. (If anyone has read my parenting blogs, you’ll know some of the triggers.) I hate being depressed. Being a passionate and compassionate person, I hate not caring. Being someone who finds many things funny and enjoys laughing inappropriately, I hate having no laughter. I also hate the medication but I endure because feeling depressed is far worse.

I live on my ideas, enthusiasm and feelings. We all do. The meds dampen all that. This must be endured until the light is seen again. (I once wrote a very bad poem called The Abyss which describes my descent into depression. It’s on this blog because good judgement goes out the window when depressed.)

We humans need to think of mental illness as an injury from which one has to recover. However it is triggered, falling into any episode requires healing time. If we would only treat mental illness as an illness, we could recover more easily, as individuals and community.

I am currently off meds, for the first time in ten years. How awesome is that? Some pretty hairy things have happened (see Parenting blogs) and I have coped. How fabulous is that? I am wondering if this period is petering out? It followed the break up of my marriage, my father’s death and a rad hysterectomy due to years of suffering endometriosis. All of that is enough to plunge anyone into depression. Add to that caring for foster children on my own and dealing with their birth parents on my own plus permanent caring teens, while working full time to provide for everyone. However, my bouts go back a long long way. (My story about my growing up is elsewhere on this blog, I won’t re-tell it here.)

I wonder if there is a period as we transition into older middle age (I am 52) where the rites of passage no longer exist and we suffer accordingly? Obviously my anxiety and depression were exacerbated by surgical menopause and the other things that happen in life at middle age. How curious is it that most women and many men go through these mid life crises? How strange is the radical increase in diagnosis of mental illness, particularly for this age group?

What have we lost here? Is it like teens, where the rite of passage to adulthood has been lengthened and made impossible? Is there a rite of passage from your younger adult to middle-aged self to older middle aged? Will we go through this again when we become seniors? I don’t want to.

I will have to think on this. If you have thoughts, let me know. I am wondering, when my working life is finished, how will I transition to senior? The transition to single, older middle aged working woman/ mum/ grandma has been excruciating. What will the transition be like in another 18 years? I assume I’ll have to work to 70, as you know, money.

Do we need a rite of passage for menopause, for middle age? Do we need to define this period of life as …. something. I am still working, running a house, caring for kids the same as I did through the past two decades but I am different. I am different. I am not the same.

What do you think?

There was an old woman

There was an old woman who was absolutely sick to death of being treated like a nice old lady.

She was sick of being treated as though she was frail.

She was tired of helpful hands helping her across the street.

She was fed up with lawn bowls and morning tea with the Ladies’ Auxillary.

The old woman decided that it was time to make a change.

To signify this change she bought her very first pair of rainbow coloured leggings. A range of multi-coloured and wildly clashing shirts. A pair of Blundstones and had a very very short haircut.

Now they treated her as though she was a slightly mad nice old lady.

This was not change enough! The old woman decided that drastic action had to be taken.

So she ran away and joined the Circus.

In the circus she learned how to be part of an human pyramid.

She learned to swing on the trapeze, juggle fire and turn somersaults.

When she returned home they no longer treated her as a nice old lady. Oh no.

Now they treated her as though she was a complete lunatic.

For not only did they respect her, they also feared her a little.

Because you see…

they were never quite sure when she would begin to juggle fire or turn somersaults, and they were frightened that she might not know when to stop.

 

Oral Story (C) CLHHarper 1996

Straight-talk parenting

There’s benefit to being a straight talker. People know you mean what you say and say what you mean. Even Youngest Daughter, whose behaviour has been off the charts for nearly three years.

Saturday she went to stay with a friend. I spoke to the mother to make sure it was okay. Then there was some story about the power bill not being paid and no longer able to stay there. Then, gosh, all the phones in the town were flat so she couldn’t call me to come and pick them up, so they slept on the street. Oh yes, you read that right. I was also supposed to believe that story.

I was so glad to have them safe at home, that I focussed on that. Now that some semblance of sanity has returned to YD, I have let her know how nonsensical her story was. She at least had the grace to appear embarrassed and guilty. Good grief. Sleeping on the street! Splutter!

Do you know, if you met me, you would not expect me to have a ‘wayward’ daughter. As a heroin baby, who went into foster care at 5 months for ‘failure to thrive’, then to carer after carer, until coming to me at 3 1/2, she was so angry, so mad at the world, and so full of grief that it was bare survival for both of us for the first nine months. She had thought the previous carers were her family and was absolutely broken that they had given her away. She was convinced for a long time that I must have seen a photo of her and demanded to have her. Her birth mother made it worse, so much worse.

Poor sad baby. What she does know, except when she is crazy and convinced I am exaggerating (her own favourite pass time), is that I am truthful and while she might wish that I would be less honest at times, she knows that she can trust what I say. That’s something isn’t it?

Of course, quite often this means that she tells me more than I want to know. I often feel like putting fingers in my ears and singing lalala loudly. At least she tells me. Right?

So I told her straight up that she was not going to be able to complete Year 8. Year 8, dear God. I gave her the options the meeting at school came up with and she actually chose the one best for her. Oh my goodness, thank you God for great and small mercies. We still have to apply for all the programs and cross our fingers and our toes (our eyes and our noses) that she gets in. She is happy to try to get her life back on track and get some more education (she’s at grade 5 level).

Through all the traumas and events that have happened in my life, YD is the cause of so much angst and concern, so much pain, so many tears, so much upset. I know that how she is a reflection of how she feels about herself. Whenever she is in trouble or upset, she runs straight to me. That’s got to count for something, doesn’t it?

It is so sad that she feels so bad about herself. I understand how all that has come about, all the abandonment, manipulations and abuse that has occurred to trigger that in her. What I don’t have is any way to fix it.

There is no fixing. I have to have faith. Faith in her resilience. Faith in how much I love her. Faith in her own light within.

I wish for her only happiness. To live a life she loves and is proud of.

Keep the faith.

Parenting Teens and Education…Sigh

How do I tell my daughter that she needs to move schools, again?

When starting Year 7 she dropped as a very tiny fish into a very big pond and was simply overwhelmed. Her response was anger. When confronted or felt she was being made wrong, she attacked. She has always been good with her words, they are useful lashes. Now she adds swearing and name calling to her verbal violence.

Otherwise, she simply walks out of class or refuses to attend. Usually she takes someone with her. She is one of those students you’d rather yours didn’t associate with. Yet and yet, she is the most gorgeous girl, who can just shine when her world is right.
Her world is not often right and I feel so sad for her. With foster care, abusive birth mother, challenges of permanent care, she has a well-developed lack of self-esteem. She hears everyone as making her wrong, or hating her or deliberately trying to sabotage her. It has taken extreme effort to get her to agree to go to counselling.

How do I tell my girl, who perceives rejection everywhere, that people actually do have her best interests at heart? They are actually thinking of her and wanting the best for her.

I don’t think I can ever convince her of that, so where to start? If I say that she is disrupting classes, disrespecting teachers and leading other students astray, that will confirm her every belief. I cannot say that. If I say that she is in year 8 with the education level of a grade 5, she will shrug and say she doesn’t care.

I don’t care what other people think. I don’t care that they point the finger at me and say how she turned out must be my fault. There is no fault here. There is a child who is suffering. My concern is for her happiness, that she is living a life she loves and is proud of. My concern is that she learns to love herself. That seems to be a tall order at the moment. Her conflict with everyone is evidence of the conflict within herself.

What is wonderful about her is how much she cares for her friends. She wants to bring home every person who is in trouble. What is wonderful about her is how in the moment she can be, enjoying life as it is happening. What is wonderful about her is just how tough and resilient she is considering all she has been through. What is wonderful about her is how compassionate she can be for others.

Perhaps that is somehow the key. You can only be of assistance to others if you take care of yourself and have something to offer. This is something wonderful about her. How could she ongoingly have something to offer those that need her support? What would she need to have to support others? How would she get that? They are big questions and I do not know how else to have her consider them.

If she does not see a future for herself and a need to provide for that future, how can I convince her? What if she tells me all the bad stuff and I tell her all the good stuff about this year? Where will that take us? How will that get us to the conversation about moving schools again? Obviously this requires much more thought, heartache and creativity. I do not have an easy solution.
Do you?
4 Nov 2015