I went to a therapy appt. with D yesterday, after a 2 week break because he was on vacation and I was at my Mom’s. For the first time in 2 years of therapy with D, about 35 minutes in, I felt completely empty of thoughts and really wanted to leave. I didn’t, but spent the next 15 minutes in practically absolute, detached silence. At some point he said “your depression is worse, how about any suicidal thoughts?”. I reminded him that he (and no one else) is allowed to ask me that question. I have finally figured out that answering those questions only leads to problems for me.
My only “job” for the time I spent at my Mom’s was to be there emotionally for her and her husband and to assist in the decision making process of sorting out what is happening with her and what we should do next. I completely failed. After about a week of faking interest and concern and failing at attempts to be helpful/contributory, I felt myself drifting away and becoming more and more detached. I rarely spoke or offered any insight and soon felt disgust and hatred for both her and myself. I felt like there was nothing in my head. No thoughts, no helpful input, no interest. When the surgeon came into the room where my sister and I were waiting for Mom’s return from her bone biopsy and asked us if we had any question – the only thought in my head was “I should have at least one question” – I always have questions. But no, completely blank. I spent 3 or 4 days primarily sitting outside smoking cigs. with my eyes closed, but not able to sleep, and resurfacing occasionally to note the time and wondering how much longer until I could go home. I don’t remember ever being that “out of it” and incapable of motivating/controlling myself before.
Now that I am at home, the much needed/hoped for improvement in my mood has not happened. Shit.
FFS, I told D that I hated my mother. He responded with “You’ve never told me that before. Tell me, why do you hate her?”. What did I say? I remember groaning about her indecision, her assumptions that we all knew what she wanted or needed, her apparent inability to just ask for what she needs. Fucking great reasons to hate your mother, who is actively dying and in pain. I really hate myself right now.
I’m supposed to return to her house sometime soon, to be helpful and caring and help my sister in law deal with both Mom and her husband. I absolutely cannot see me doing this. I am such a shit daughter and can’t see a way out of this. Am I really going to go back and be useless and more of a burden to all of them or can I simply say that it’s all too much for me and I can’t do it?
My urge to cut etc. is large right now, both as a punishment for failing and to see the blood and hope it gives me some peace. I told D that I had broken a glass ashtray by accident and Wolf told me to pick up a shard for later use. He either wants me to swallow it or use it to cut. I’m not sure yet.
D asked me if I was taking any of my meds. “No, they make me feel like shit”. D – “Don’t you think that you functioned better on them?”. Clearly, he thinks I did. No, I did not. “I’m only taking the Trazadone to help me fall asleep (it still takes hours to shut off my head and fall asleep), I will not take the Seroquel, Zoloft or Lamictal again.” D – “So you just walk out of your appt. with the psychiatrist with the prescriptions and have no intention of filling them.” YES D.
I’m fucking tired. I want to fall asleep and not wake up again. I surely have the right to choose my own future.