Five A.M.

Another all-nighter.

It’s been a long day. So, I have school aged kids. And my youngest loves people. She loves hugging and playing and sharing clothes… and hats…

Someone contacted me and told me that we needed to check hair. And yep. Lice. So after everything else that has happened, I’ve been dealing with combing hair, treating hair, washing clothes and sheets. It’s probably one of the most annoying and humiliating things a mother has to deal with. It’s one of those few times I’m glad to be a hermit. At least it hasn’t spread far. The girls’ hair is okay now, I combed through it until bedtime. And my own hair smells like licorice and it’s making me sick but at least I’m not itching. This has happened before and I’m so frustrated with it. At least my cousin is helping me with my hair. I can’t do my own and Nate won’t do it. “Your hair is hard to do.” Yeah. I know. But dammit it has to be done.

Listening to Amanda Palmer reading from her book “The Art of Asking”. Her voice is reassuring and comforting in a way that I’ve missed. I remember lying in the back floorboard of cars as a kid and listening to my mom talk while the rumble under my head lulls me to sleep.

I know I have complained a lot about my mother. And she is a chore. But so am I and I think the biggest problem is we are both so overwhelmed by our own shit and she held hers in for so long she can’t keep it inside even if she wanted. I don’t know what changed her mind on Easter, but she’s taken some small moments of actually listening to me. And confiding things in me, which I’m not certain are truths or just her way of trying to relate with me.

I wonder sometimes, the more things she confides, if we are in some way cursed. That’s what this feels like sometimes. Like I was given a broken brain, or no skin over my emotions. Everything is immediate and raw, and maybe the things she does when she acts out stems from the same place my own raw rage and grief and fear comes from. I tell myself that I should be more understanding, even as she is torturing me with her anxieties and bitterness.

I probably won’t feel it tomorrow. But this morning, the connection is there.


Ask Me Anything

So the cover to this movie is so misleading. It has Britt Roberson, who I adore, wearing an oversized man’s suitshirt and tie, looking a little coy, with some sideshots of various men. It makes it look like a cute, funny movie. Probably with a great indie soundtrack.

Then we watched it.

It was painful to see. So many triggers. Horrible relationship choices, check. Childhood molestation, check. Bad father, check. Her therapist even advises her to write a letter to someone who hurt her in the past, which is what mine has said to me, as recent as yesterday.

Don’t get me wrong. Anything with Britt in it is awesome. But seeing her on the screen. Hearing the way she spoke, the things she said, the way she would dismiss something when it forced her to see herself and the mistakes she was making, the way those around her didn’t know how to handle her, saying things that would help with any normal person but to someone with BPD it’s the exact opposite..She even had a blog. It was upsetting and eye-opening and the soundtrack actually was pretty good.

My therapist listened when I told her that I really felt I have BPD. It’s the first time since.. well… the first time a therapist said it when I was 19, that anyone listened when I said it. She thinks it is probably co-existent with bi-polar, which basically means I’m probably a handful.

364 days. I hear the echoes of it in the back of my head. I don’t feel it in my skin anymore. The thought of it brings a sharp stab of bitter anger and I flinch mentally from it. Which might mean I’m healing. I’m afraid it’s just the start to a manic episode left over from all the crap that’s happened in April so far.I hate April. I wish I could hibernate through it.

No song tonight. I have no music in my head. Too much static.

I Don’t Even Know

So my mom is having an episode. I could post some of the comments and messages she’s sent me but I can’t handle it.

My ex-husband has also been especially bipolar too.

I was ready to lose it.
Then Mandikins and Stephen came over.

I don’t often say this. But they have held me together over the past trauma. Mandi has been there for even longer, even when all I could do was curl up in my chair and cry.

No one has done even half of what they have to help me. Ever. I don’t know how I can ever even begin to repay them.

I think it’s time to cut the family ties. I can’t keep going through this over and over again. Now after t have e threats and horrible comments she’s sending Bible verses and messages telling me that I have done the worst a child can do and she doesn’t understand why I have done it. That she loves me. This is after over 50 messages calling me a liar and evil.

On top of Nathan’s behavior. And my aunt who is staying with mom started sending the same things. And she said “Fuck you” to me. I have let her live with me without any payment. I gave her my last 20 dollars and never asked for it back. She helped raise me. These women raised me and they have said some of the cruelest things ever said to me.

So I am cursed. But there is also the blessing of finding in friends the Family I never had from blood.
This was posted with my new phone. The one my friends gave me to help get me out of the traps I’ve been in. I’ll figure out the tricks eventually, but I felt it was important to use it to post this.

Amanda Palmer – Runs In The Family [OFFICIAL VIDEO]:

So there’s that, I guess.