My doctor started to refer to me as a rabbit very shortly after I met him, kind of ironic isn’t it?? Some of you will think so more than others! *chuckle*
The first time I remember taking responsibility for someone other than myself I was about 2, I vividly remember putting on a ‘happy face’ for my parents to go off to work while my nanny watched me. Even then I remember not really having any real emotional attachment to them but I knew they needed me to be ‘happy’ so they could be too. *sigh*
Side note: My mother resented me since the day I was born, I stole some of my father’s attention away, I’m pretty sure that was the main issue. Oh well. Funny enough the boys were okay, it was just me that she had a main issue with, I was the first-born and I was the only girl, two strikes against me.
Anyhow, by the time my two brothers came around things were already starting to get dicey, I don’t believe my mother ever had patience for children. The first time I remember feeling utterly helpless was when they put my in the ‘play yard’ with my youngest screaming brother. He was an infant and I was about 4, he was inconsolable and they decided I should be the one in charge of fixing that. THAT hasn’t changed since then, it became my job to take care of everyone from then on.
I’m not sure why all of this is on my mind now, simply to explain why I’m tired I guess.
By the time I was 7 or 8 I started having issues with my back and knees. I remember the only person to take it seriously and try to help was my Grandmother. On the odd time I would be allowed to stay the night she would rub my back and use a heating pad and try to work my muscles to give me some relief.
By the time I was about 10 my parents were having marital and financial issues, my brothers were sent out to play but for some reason and I got to be the mediator. LoL I told you, everyone has always come to me, even then!
It was around that time that I became anorexic. It happened for a couple of reasons really, one I was the one doing all the cooking anyway so pretending I had already eaten made sure that everyone else got their share. If there was anything left I ate, if there wasn’t I didn’t. No one ever bothered to look further into it so it was easy to get away with. Also as anyone who has ever dealt with this knows, anorexia is mainly about maintaining control in a world in which you really have none.
By the time I was 13 I started smoking, funny because I had spent all my life until then trying to convince my father to quit! *chuckle* I very literally started smoking as a death wish, they said smoking would kill you, I wanted it to happen quickly. It wasn’t about being cool or fitting in, I never let anyone see me …
Shortly after that I started sticking pins and needles into myself to try to ease the craziness that was going on in my brain. The noise was suffocating, I needed some way to be rid of it. My physical pain was also growing at that point, some days it was all I could do to get out of bed. Funny how things come full circle!
I would burn the end to be sure it was sterile and then use the needle on myself, the burn I think is what led to me starting to use cigarettes to burn myself, the needles were just not enough.
Shortly after that I started cutting instead, unlike the burning, cutting actually allowed the blood to flow. The sight of that helped me to go into a state where I really felt nothing at all. It no longer mattered how badly my body hurt, it no longer mattered what they said about me, it no longer mattered how I was treated and how much they wanted me to manage. NONE of it mattered, I was a walking machine, doing what needed to be done but feeling nothing in the process.
I moved out at around 16 and started taking care of myself. I didn’t see my family for a couple of years after that. Some where between then and 18 I continued to cut and burn and I was smoking 3 large packs per day. I rarely ate and my pain grew. This was life and all I ever imagined it would be, I had no feelings left in me, I simply didn’t care.
Eventually I went back to talking to my parents, I started working for them (no surprise they took advantage again) and that’s when it happened. My father caught me at work one evening and was upset about something, I don’t know what. The short and long of it was that he grabbed a chair and held it up over my head …. LoL
I didn’t think I could get any ‘colder’ but that night I did. The wall was now made of reinforced steel, I had already stopped cutting by then and I would be damned if I ever allowed anyone to make me feel anything again.
I don’t make friends, I don’t make connections, I don’t let anyone in and I never will. I don’t understand emotions as it is and they have done me no good all of my life. So be it.
It also meant that I don’t ask for help, I don’t talk about what hurts me and I will not show any weakness. I have been fighting my brain, my health and my ’emotions’ all of my life. During all of this and to this day everyone still comes to me for help and guidance. If there is an issue that needs handling and especially if it’s a hard choice to make, it’s me ….
If I can’t do it, it goes undone. If I show weakness it all falls apart, so no pressure! LoL
The truth is that Gramma is gone now, almost two years and I have cut myself off entirely. Through much work and patience I have managed to pull 1 brother out of purgatory and he and I do still stay in contact, everyone else has been written off. I have two children now dealing with their own demons, I don’t have the time or luxury of spreading myself thin even if I wanted to. My first priority is to them and to them it will remain.
Which leads me to the doctor’s appointment. The result of everything so far is simple.
“I can’t help you, dear”.
We can call it a few different things, it really doesn’t matter. It’s an issue with soft tissue in my body, they really have no idea what causes it or what to do about it. The good news is I’m not going to die ….. It should slow down on it’s own we just really have no idea when. Maybe 2 years, maybe 5, maybe …. In the mean time, quit working, or work part-time. Find another job …
Right. I have two almost adult children who can’t seem to function in society. They are making progress and hopefully will continue to but how long before they are self-sufficient?
If they can’t pay for themselves, who do you suppose is going to? How do you suppose that’s going to happen if I quit working?
Finding a new job is an alternative, something part-time with less physical stress but … the boys rely on me being home and being their anchor in order for them to manage to get out the door each day. If I’m not here I’m afraid everything will go backwards very quickly! Emotionally having me here keeps them going forward, I can’t change that, I won’t!
I’m good with numbers and I’m good with planning. I wanted to be very part-time by now and retired by 50. I knew a long time ago my health would catch up to me, I knew I needed to be prepared. What I didn’t count on was having to pay for adult children long after they should be paying for themselves.
My doctor thinks I’m stubborn and refuse to stop because of my ego? My pride? I am stubborn no doubt about that, but I’m not stupid!
The Bear is the only one to ever show me He cared, He’s the only one to ever take care of me, He’s the only one to be inside that wall. I want to spend the rest of my life healthy enough to enjoy it with HIM! I might be stubborn but I am not stupid, I would stop if I could.
I currently don’t have a choice.
And in the mean time ‘There is nothing they can do for me ….’
He also added btw that he has seen many cases like this but had to admit that mine was pretty severe in comparison. *chuckle* Leave it to me, never the underachiever! Go big or go home, I guess.
The good news? He now knows I’m not depressed or stressed, this is something more.
The biggest slap in the face? I know just how to ease my pain, I just can’t do it right now because of their mental health! So, …. on so many levels ….F*CK!