The ongoing chronicle of grief related PTSD, and my blockheaded partner.
It was too hot to sleep late today, so I didn't get enough sleep, so I got tired earlier. So I went to my room earlier, but I can't sleep without sedatives unless I'm SERIOUSLY sleep deprived, so I sat here, on the bed, taking my pills, (diphenhydramine, melatonin, and propranolol), and watching YouTube videos. And getting depressed, as I always do, when it's dark, and I'm alone.
Then the Male comes in, because he's off tomorrow, to tell me about some really cool serial killer he just learned about. And I ask him to stay and watch stuff with me in here, but he says that *he* just took a pill, and needs to go to bed, too, and goes back to his room with the usual niceties.
And after he leaves I just break. Rocking, and bawling, and rocking, and bawling, and rocking, and bawling. I have horrible sadness every night unless I wait until I'm practically dropping where I stand to go to bed. I should've known better than to come in here before I was ready to actually go to sleep.
Something in the way he said good night and left the room reminded my a little of the sort of exchanges I had with my parents; back when I still had a family. I suppose it was a PTSD "trigger".
And all I can think is that I'm alone, except for him. My dad is dead, and my mother is a lying, nasty, horrible human being whose whole modus operandi is to make *me* feel guilty for ruining her life by my merely existing.
I have siblings. One is a republican christian who wants to see me lose my health care, and the other is bipolar with delusions to the point that he could pass as schizophrenic, and *returned* the last birthday card that I sent him, with "Never forget there is nothing for you here" written on it in permanent marker.
So the blood relatives that actually seem to be decent human beings are limited to three relatively distant relations, that I know very little about, and haven't seen in decades, outside of Facebook. Hardly a support system. They get Christmas cards from me, but that's about the extent of our relationship. I have tried having an ongoing conversational exchange with my only liberal niece, but as tends to happen with me, she just stopped replying. (Little does she know that I wanted to leave my property to one of her kids, but since she's not even going to talk to me, screw that.)
And the worst part is that, being all I have, I am *terrified* of losing the Male. Which he interprets as a personal insult to his fortitude. All I want the man to do is stop walking in the heat unnecessarily, and take out a life insurance policy. Maybe consider actually doing what his doctor suggests. Not rocket science level stuff here. - But he's my only real life friend. The only person, aside from my therapist, that I can actually talk to. And I can't talk to him about the thing that bothers me the most, because it *offends him*.
(When I say that I can't talk to anyone else, that's literal. I call my mom on the phone once every week or two, and discuss the lightest, most meaningless topics conceivable, otherwise she tries to guilt trip me. Besides her, my therapist, and him, I never speak to another human being. Unless the postman counts, or my other occasional appointments with specialists.)
I remind myself that, right now, life is good. We'll have over a $1k in the bank at the end of this month, that's being turned into house repair and improvement stuff. My mother isn't dying in the near future, at least not according to her oncologist. I've got a budget of $90 a month to just buy whatever I want, which isn't much, but it's nice. I get to see the results of my MRI on the 27th. Yay for getting to look at my brain! I want a copy, to frame, and hang on the wall. Because why not? I'm officially starting to save money, to go in a separate account, so that when I'm dead my Australian friend can come and get my cats. (I'll have to make him my executor and create a proper will at some point, obviously; which I marginally dread because f!@# lawyers.)
But all of that pales in comparison to the fact that I'm having significant trouble dealing with the uncertainty of the Male's lifespan, and he's being a real block head about it.
Medical marijuana is supposed to be set up here by September of next year, and I'm pre-approved. I wish they'd that get that show on the freaking road already.
Then the Male comes in, because he's off tomorrow, to tell me about some really cool serial killer he just learned about. And I ask him to stay and watch stuff with me in here, but he says that *he* just took a pill, and needs to go to bed, too, and goes back to his room with the usual niceties.
And after he leaves I just break. Rocking, and bawling, and rocking, and bawling, and rocking, and bawling. I have horrible sadness every night unless I wait until I'm practically dropping where I stand to go to bed. I should've known better than to come in here before I was ready to actually go to sleep.
Something in the way he said good night and left the room reminded my a little of the sort of exchanges I had with my parents; back when I still had a family. I suppose it was a PTSD "trigger".
And all I can think is that I'm alone, except for him. My dad is dead, and my mother is a lying, nasty, horrible human being whose whole modus operandi is to make *me* feel guilty for ruining her life by my merely existing.
I have siblings. One is a republican christian who wants to see me lose my health care, and the other is bipolar with delusions to the point that he could pass as schizophrenic, and *returned* the last birthday card that I sent him, with "Never forget there is nothing for you here" written on it in permanent marker.
So the blood relatives that actually seem to be decent human beings are limited to three relatively distant relations, that I know very little about, and haven't seen in decades, outside of Facebook. Hardly a support system. They get Christmas cards from me, but that's about the extent of our relationship. I have tried having an ongoing conversational exchange with my only liberal niece, but as tends to happen with me, she just stopped replying. (Little does she know that I wanted to leave my property to one of her kids, but since she's not even going to talk to me, screw that.)
And the worst part is that, being all I have, I am *terrified* of losing the Male. Which he interprets as a personal insult to his fortitude. All I want the man to do is stop walking in the heat unnecessarily, and take out a life insurance policy. Maybe consider actually doing what his doctor suggests. Not rocket science level stuff here. - But he's my only real life friend. The only person, aside from my therapist, that I can actually talk to. And I can't talk to him about the thing that bothers me the most, because it *offends him*.
(When I say that I can't talk to anyone else, that's literal. I call my mom on the phone once every week or two, and discuss the lightest, most meaningless topics conceivable, otherwise she tries to guilt trip me. Besides her, my therapist, and him, I never speak to another human being. Unless the postman counts, or my other occasional appointments with specialists.)
I remind myself that, right now, life is good. We'll have over a $1k in the bank at the end of this month, that's being turned into house repair and improvement stuff. My mother isn't dying in the near future, at least not according to her oncologist. I've got a budget of $90 a month to just buy whatever I want, which isn't much, but it's nice. I get to see the results of my MRI on the 27th. Yay for getting to look at my brain! I want a copy, to frame, and hang on the wall. Because why not? I'm officially starting to save money, to go in a separate account, so that when I'm dead my Australian friend can come and get my cats. (I'll have to make him my executor and create a proper will at some point, obviously; which I marginally dread because f!@# lawyers.)
But all of that pales in comparison to the fact that I'm having significant trouble dealing with the uncertainty of the Male's lifespan, and he's being a real block head about it.
Medical marijuana is supposed to be set up here by September of next year, and I'm pre-approved. I wish they'd that get that show on the freaking road already.
Comments
Post a Comment