One year ago...my mom tried to commit suicide for the third time. For the second time, I had to "clean up the mess" of it all. I am having a hard time talking to Rob about it because we seem to not talk about where MY head was at duting this time. You can check out the archives.
I sent this to him tonight:
Hey You!
Well…one thing I learned today…mom is aware of the date. She gave me a small opening, but I didn’t take it. I think because I was in shock and I also think because of the thoughts going through my head before she got home and we went to dinner.
Some of the thoughts I really have no desire to share with either of you…my mom for obvious reasons and you…well…because I feel like an idiot but would feel like a bigger idiot if I didn’t tell you. I also dread doing this because I sit here dead set against having to follow the rules about sending an email that has to be read. I know I say this every so often and do it anyway and this is no exception…but I already feel fear having to put a voice to all this.
I’m not sure where to start as usual. Part of me dreads talking about it because I don’t especially want to think about where I was this time last year…and I don’t feel much better now.
Which brings me to the first feeling. I was jealous that she had the guts to actually do it. She didn’t sit in your office and talk about how much she WANTED to do it…she actually did. Okay, she then called Murphy and did the whole thing where I could hear in the first place…but she did it. Wish I had the guts to follow through instead of just pulling the meds out from time to time and counting them.
After today I also feel totally selfish about the whole thing. Ugh…I have always hated it when my mom has taken stuff that has happened to me and makes it all about her and you pointed out that by not realizing how depressed she was…that’s pretty much what I’ve been doing. You didn’t say it that way…but that’s what it feels like. If I had not been so worried about whether I was going to do the same thing myself…maybe I would have noticed. It just seemed totally impulsive and alcohol induced that it never occurred to me that I missed seeing what was going on.
And, on another purely selfish note, I will admit that it did make me mad. Mad that she never bothers to read anything and that she had no clue mixing alcohol and her antidepressants was a no-no. Mad that once again, I was the one who had to deal with it. Call 911, answer all the questions, call my grandparents, call Murphy, get rid of the note, get rid of the pills she didn’t take, take care of the stuff at her work. Mad that all she cared about through most of this was Murphy and me making sure I called him and kept him updated, etc. She is sitting up in bed in the ER covered with charcoal telling me over and over that I had to call Murphy and he had to know where she was.
I’m totally ashamed that I practically BEGGED them to keep her. I guess my mom was trying to call me or wanted them to call me or something…maybe I was calling to get info from the hospital (this was before they transferred her), but I talked to some staff member there and when they asked me I told them I didn’t want her home…that she needed to stay. I couldn’t handle her coming home the next day…heck…I had a hard time with her coming back 72 hours later…but sooner I know I would have been calling you every two minutes.
Then, of course, there is relief she didn’t succeed and that she did no damage to her body with all the pills she took.
I sent this to him tonight:
Hey You!
Well…one thing I learned today…mom is aware of the date. She gave me a small opening, but I didn’t take it. I think because I was in shock and I also think because of the thoughts going through my head before she got home and we went to dinner.
Some of the thoughts I really have no desire to share with either of you…my mom for obvious reasons and you…well…because I feel like an idiot but would feel like a bigger idiot if I didn’t tell you. I also dread doing this because I sit here dead set against having to follow the rules about sending an email that has to be read. I know I say this every so often and do it anyway and this is no exception…but I already feel fear having to put a voice to all this.
I’m not sure where to start as usual. Part of me dreads talking about it because I don’t especially want to think about where I was this time last year…and I don’t feel much better now.
Which brings me to the first feeling. I was jealous that she had the guts to actually do it. She didn’t sit in your office and talk about how much she WANTED to do it…she actually did. Okay, she then called Murphy and did the whole thing where I could hear in the first place…but she did it. Wish I had the guts to follow through instead of just pulling the meds out from time to time and counting them.
After today I also feel totally selfish about the whole thing. Ugh…I have always hated it when my mom has taken stuff that has happened to me and makes it all about her and you pointed out that by not realizing how depressed she was…that’s pretty much what I’ve been doing. You didn’t say it that way…but that’s what it feels like. If I had not been so worried about whether I was going to do the same thing myself…maybe I would have noticed. It just seemed totally impulsive and alcohol induced that it never occurred to me that I missed seeing what was going on.
And, on another purely selfish note, I will admit that it did make me mad. Mad that she never bothers to read anything and that she had no clue mixing alcohol and her antidepressants was a no-no. Mad that once again, I was the one who had to deal with it. Call 911, answer all the questions, call my grandparents, call Murphy, get rid of the note, get rid of the pills she didn’t take, take care of the stuff at her work. Mad that all she cared about through most of this was Murphy and me making sure I called him and kept him updated, etc. She is sitting up in bed in the ER covered with charcoal telling me over and over that I had to call Murphy and he had to know where she was.
I’m totally ashamed that I practically BEGGED them to keep her. I guess my mom was trying to call me or wanted them to call me or something…maybe I was calling to get info from the hospital (this was before they transferred her), but I talked to some staff member there and when they asked me I told them I didn’t want her home…that she needed to stay. I couldn’t handle her coming home the next day…heck…I had a hard time with her coming back 72 hours later…but sooner I know I would have been calling you every two minutes.
Then, of course, there is relief she didn’t succeed and that she did no damage to her body with all the pills she took.
1 comment:
Just thinking about you today...
Tina
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