Circles

We were doing very well for a time, but then there was Friday...

And after listening to the most deluded monologue of ostrich-head-in-the-sand-because-the-truth-is-just-too-unpleasant-to-accept craziness, I am now wracked with doubt.  Maybe I am the deluded one?

A moment to review the last few weeks...we started a new medication and despite a few bumps things seemed very promising.  We were stablizing, and though I have to admit that a part of me had begun to experience the could-it-be euphoria that almost always means that things are too good to be true, it felt great to get a lot done last week without any major hiccups.

Then it was time for a refill and the decision was made to consolidate two doses into one.  And another decision was made to administer those doses in the morning.

On Friday, my mother walked home from the hair salon after waiting 15 minutes for me to come get her.  She denounced me as her daughter.  I left my brother's car running on Minnesota Avenue.  I think the guy who stopped to offer to help us probably was a cop who was trying to justify his gut instinct to have me arrested for assault. 

Then I took my niece to the museum to see the dinosaurs.  Today I took Mom to see a Monet.

This is taking a toll.  I gave up cursing for Lent, so that has meant more alcohol.  I refilled my anxiety prescription and have been using it.  I worry about my blood pressure and what would happen if I dropped dead--what in the world would I wear to my grave?

I have no other way of expressing how this is making me feel except for off-beat and inappropriate humor.  I have to carry on because no one is all that interested in feeling my pain.  Not even the folks who are supposed to be enduring this same nightmare.  Which is why I am questioning whether I am actually caught up in the Matrix...or in the Adjustment Bureau.

Here is the thing--I've been having my doubts about whether I am forcing acceptance of something that might not be as severe as I have imagined.  But every time I get through one phase, I get some independent confimation that no, I am not just some masochist who hates her mother and wants her to be sick so that everyone in the family can depend on me to make up for the fact that I probably will not have anything else going on in my life for the foreseeable future.  This is really not about me, is it?

But I swear, every single time I think we've turned a corner...we have, but it is a wall, just like in a maze. 

Better yet, I feel like a dog that keeps chasing its tail.  I see it, I can almost bite it, but I fail.  Of course, if I actually succeeded, I'd be biting myself in the a$$.