The Aftermath

Almost Six Month Later….

Where am I now? Sometimes I don’t know if I’m better or not. However, almost 6 months since my discharge, I can’t say that much has changed besides my weight.

Every day I am gaining weight. My PCP and psychiatrist are working together to figure out a way to keep me motivated to even be here while maintaining my mental heath. One way is to help me sleep more. I have been told to take more vitamins as well to help me with energy.

However, I am still unmotivated as I have been especially because, like the time I was working out, eating right, and doing everything but still gaining weight, the cycle is repeating itself. To me, why work out and do what I’m supposed to be doing if I’m not seeing any results. So I will be seeing my doctor on Tuesday about a shot that will help me at least start. I am still pre diabetic (I kind of wish I had diabetes again so I could know the reason for this weight gain (see So I Have¬†Diabetes)) but there has to be a reason that I continue to gain weight. It is very frustrating. The frustration doesn’t help with the motivation therefore, it’s just a stupid cycle of failure that I try to overcome on a daily basis. I tell myself every day that I will do better and I try but it doesn’t work the way I want. Yet I keep trying.

Family

Family is still family. They’re trying to be more cognizant of what is going on. When I came back from the psych ward, my family had cleaned my apartment, gotten rid of my daughter’s broken bed, gotten me a new microwave, and just did a lot because they knew some of the things that stressed me. Sadly, my daughter’s room was one of the biggest pains for me and I didn’t want someone to come into her embarrassingly dirty room and take down her dresser and bed.

Thankfully, my family took care of that. When my sister told me while I was in the ward, I cried. One of the assistants ran to my side with tissue because he hated to see a woman cry. I told him they were happy tears.

What people don’t understand is that sometimes we really need help but are too embarrassed to ask for it. Something as simple as cleaning is very hard. This weekend alone, I just slept. I finally willed myself out of the bed to clean the kitchen and do two loads of laundry. That alone took a lot out of me and I am back in the bed. Even with everything I have on my mind to blog about, I don’t have the motivation to even try to decipher all of the jumbled thoughts I have in my diseased brain.

Back to my family: They do what they can. They do what I allow. I need to learn to allow more. That is my issue.

My dad and my brother have not said anything about the situation. They don’t talk about these things. That is just the dynamic of my family. They don’t know what to say. I can understand that.

A New Village

Surprisingly, my neighbors have stepped up. I have one downstairs and a mother and daughter next door that have given me their numbers when I told them why I was gone. The neighbors next door had COVID and I had no clue. I had the daughter’s phone number and we communicated about packages if she needed me to pick them up but I had no clue they were very sick. We talked about how we needed to look out for one another so we text more often and even call sometimes.

The neighbor downstairs works a lot of weird hours and always yells about not being able to see Gary the way she is used to. She gave me some wine and told me also that we need to stick together as we are all struggling.

At This Very Moment….

My daughter’s phone is broken. I have told her that it’s not the charger but it’s the phone. Mind you, she lost her phone at school earlier this week and that stressed me. They found it and all was well.

However, because she doesn’t think that I know what I am talking about, she has thrown the phone and my charger at me no matter how many times I told her that it was the phone that no longer worked. She is in her room right now telling me to “Go to hell!” The last time she did that, we literally got into a fight (see: Having a Child with an Intellectual Disability WHILE Dealing with Your Own Mental¬†Illness). She is also just calling me all kinds of names. You know what’s funny? I am doing everything in my power not to fight this child right now. She’s slamming doors and acting a fool. Gary is watching me to make sure I don’t get up and literally fight her. I’m just staying in my bed and typing right now.

The most I will do right now is probably text my siblings, coworker, and friend. I can’t call my mother because all she is going to do is stress herself out. This isn’t even what I wanted to type about but here we are right now.

I’m off all next week and have a lot of cleaning to do including her room as it is just a trash can. She’s mad but she has a computer and a Firestick that she can use. I fed that child and she didn’t even say “Thank you!” She literally snatched the plate and went in her room.

A person like me with that person inside that wants to come out and seriously hurt someone is having a hard time right now. But that’s what the meds are for. I’m just going to take my meds and mind my own business and now my dog is limping around but that’s a whole other story.

The Good Side

I’m off all next week, I cleaned the kitchen, washed and folded two loads of clothes, and wrote a blog. So I still win in the end. Hopefully that child will yell herself to sleep because I don’t have time for it. I’m not going back to the psych ward. Especially not twice in less than six months. F*ck that!

Published by tallgirl79

Blogging about life. Well, my life. As a black, bipolar, mom to a teenager with special needs, well, there is always a story to tell. From my aversion to having a man to my weird experiences while trying to avoid people, it's all there. Being me is.... different but it always makes for good blogs.

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