I'm very up and down these days.
Obviously the thing with my brother has not helped anything. Spent my entire therapy session on why it hurt so much, why it was so frustrating to hope that he could connect with my experience and understand why I've been the way I've been this year. Why I didn't want to hurt him, not purposely. Why I wanted to reconnect with my brother with whom I have not been close since my mom passed away.
Why I feel so frustrated that every conversation we have ends with him bitching about what a terrible family we are, how he is mistreated/not supported/never has been, and we both hang up feeling worse. For years now.
She suggested just sending him a note/email saying that I was sorry he was hurt by what was in my journal, and basically leaving it at that. He was not able to connect with what I wrote beyond what was about him because he's still in pain from his whole life and probably wouldn't be able to hear anything else anyway.
Or something like that.
At any rate, it's another confirmed loss.
I'm not ready to go back to school full time. Or part time, at that. I'm teaching my class, again. This time, co-teaching with a great colleague. Helps. But I'm still not better better. Maybe that's what is making me so sad.
Flashes of last year, olfactory. Weepy again. Angry as hell. Topped out on the Cym.balta. Appointment on Thursday.
I fear what it will take to help me really begin to heal. Function better. I need to be stable before we can even try again -- and off most drugs.
Is it the trauma? Am I just really fucked in the head? Maybe I wasn't trying to convince my brother but myself, that I've been through a lot and that needs to be recognized and dealt with. Or maybe I'm just really fucked up. I just don't know how to process this. Hold on while letting go. Not just expecting the worst.
Accept the pain. Accept the healing, the feeling better. It's okay to feel better, even though it feels so odd.
I almost re-posted that entry I made in May about me/Notme. I took off the Hope necklace. Not feeling it, not yet. And others, are making progress. Friends feeling good, finding their way. Having their little ones. I'm so happy for them. It should give me hope.
But it doesn't.
The Cym gives me enough energy to get up and take care of the dog, and go out to dinner and even try to clean the house some. And then I spend 2 days in bed. Two hours up, three down.
I just don't know how to integrate this into my life. Still. What the hell is wrong with me? I'm pre-disposed to depression, I've dealt with grief before. And I just can't move forward with this.
How did you do it/are you doing it?