Friday, June 25, 2010

Update of Doom

Nanna's dying. She was diagnosed with bladder cancer around a month ago, and is in Sydney being treated for kidney failure. Or, she went to Sydney to get treatment for her cancer, and now she has kidney failure AND cancer.

So we've got to go to Sydney sometime really fucking soon. My brother left today though, and that has changed my Not Wanting To Go status to OMGOMGOMGBLURGHHHH and I think I'm going to die, etc. I'm having panic attacks at the idea of being with my family AT ALL, minus my brother, and now that he's going to be there, being all "you need to grow up, aibee. Be an adult." to me, and I just can't take it anymore because all the shit these people say to me, and think they have the RIGHT to say to me, I believe, and I LET them go on and on and on and then I die. When I'm with them, I become that abused, neglected child again, the one I work so hard to not let affect my life, and yet, here I am, mumbltymumble years old, still being affected by who I was taught to believe I am.



Nanna's dying and this should be about making her final days the best they can be for her, and I need to get a grip and just GO.

In other news, I'm losing my shit over here, which has been a good thing because it's lead to:

I want to go into rehab. Not for drugs, gambling, drinking, sex with strangers, or whatevs. For my eating disorder.

I've been in therapy for years, am a BIG fan of counselling, do all sorts of self help, self healing yadda bla bla etc things to grow past the things that got me there. I've got a lot of insight but simply do not have the tools, or the knowledge of what self love is, what love IS, to not still carry around the same shit that got me to an eating disorder in the first place. Those core beliefs still affect my life so much, so they affect Daniel's life, and I don't want that. I want us both to have love in our lives and I am, at present, incapable of creating bonds in my life that will ultimately enrich HIS life. I've gained weight and made a shitload of progress in the last nine years, but that doesn't mean I'm in a position to emotionally provide a better life for my son. I FAKE at this job, and I'm good at it too, but I want to BE all the things that makes one while.

Now before anyone goes LL "but you're a good mother!" on my ass, I AM a good mother, and this is WHY I'm a good mother. I'm functional enough to go through the rest of our lives like this, but just because I can exist as I am, it doesn't mean I should.

Rehab is heart stoppingly expensive, but it's an upfront cost that provides for a year of treatment and ongoing support beyond that. I'd be better off in an inpatient program, but can't because there's no one to care for Daniel. I'll work something out because we both need this.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

boxer shorts

Thursday, June 03, 2010

last night

I dreamed Dad was alive. We were talking, and his arm was over my shoulder and I was leaning in against him. I felt safe and it felt real. It was the most uneventful dream I've ever had, but I reckon it was about the best. Then I woke up and was all "I'm SO GLAD Dad's not really dead!", then I remembered he is.

Fuckin' dream.

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