Well, a few things have happened since I wrote last……so here we go.
As many of you know, my sister and I do not get along…..I mean, I love her because she’s my sister, but she’s not my friend. Granted, things have gotten let’s say about 2% better over the last year but even that is a stretch. Well, for those of you who have read my blog before, you know that I have a mental illness. I have been working for years on this illness to get to the point where I could work a full time job and come off of social security disability. I’m 31, and I feel like I am behind in a sense from where I “should” be at this age. I live with my parents, and I don’t have a boyfriend, and I just feel like I’m failing because of my illness. I feel like this illness has caused me to fall behind in life and what I mean by that is I don’t feel like I can relate to people my age who at this time seem to be buying homes, getting married, and having kids, and I’m just here working a 30 hour a week job living with my parents. Anyway, while I feel behind, I know at the same time that I have come a long way through a lot of challenges and struggles and circumstances that others my age have not had to endure. I am moving forward just at a different pace than my peers. And I have to be ok with that. I have to be ok with the fact that I am different and that my life does look different from others my age. Anyways, the reason I’m bringing this up is because last week I had a complete break down. Long story short (if that’s even possible lol) I was running into some problems with my insurance company and they were saying they weren’t going to be covering my depression treatments that I have every 2 weeks, and the only way I could get it paid for would be to pay over $500 to Medicare….which I was trying to get off of when I ended my social security disability. When the disability ended I had the option of paying for 2 years to continue the medicare, or I could just have it stop. Well, I wanted to just go on my works insurance and go from there. Then I found out my work insurance like I said, wasn’t going to cover these treatments because they were showing that I still had medicare (when I didn’t at that point) and it was just a mess, let’s put it that way. Well, it created a lot of anxiety in me and I came home that night and my dad said he would pay the $ to medicare to get the treatments covered for the next couple of months and then we would figure out how to make sure the medicare ended/ was cancelled correctly and that my work insurance would be able to cover it. I broke down. I broke down because I felt like a complete failure, like I couldn’t take care of myself, pay for my own healthcare, and that I just wasn’t good enough. This all came a few days after my parents got a good deal on new mattresses from a friend who owns a mattress store and they bought me a new bed. Well, my sister found out about this, and called my dad and went off on him saying things like “why the heck are you buying her a bed?! She should be paying for this on her own! She is an adult and needs to be responsible and act like it!” Well, she was yelling at my dad loud enough I was able to hear her through the phone. This made me feel like shit. I never asked my parents to buy that bed. I even offered to pay them back for it. They told me they got a really good deal for buying 2 and that I didn’t have to pay them back. So I graciously accepted it. But when a few days later all that happened with the insurance and I needed my dad to pay the deductible because I didn’t have the money (but I am paying him back in payments) I felt worthless. I felt like I had failed at life. Failed at everything. I broke down to the point where I was crying and my depression and anxiety was horrible in that moment. I was crying so hard I couldn’t breathe, not even 2 ativan had an effect on it. This moment in time I was having thoughts I hadn’t had in a long time. Thoughts about actually hurting myself, and yes, I have those thoughts every day, about self harm, but the daily thoughts are more like passing thoughts that I am able to just ignore. These thoughts that night were thoughts about what am I going to use to cut myself, how can I hide it from my parents, and when I could do it. I had thoughts about the release I would feel and that it would make it all better. I couldn’t get these thoughts to go away. All I could do was shake, cry, and let my dad just hold me tight because I think he could tell what was going on in my head. He hugged me and held me and just kept saying I love you and it’s going to be ok, we’re in this together. If it weren’t for him and my mom that night I truly believe I would have hurt myself badly and probably ended up in the hospital. I took an extra ativan and was able to go to sleep though it was restless; but I didn’t hurt myself and I made it through.
I’m doing much better than that night for sure. Things have settled down, but I’m still in a rough spot of depression. I pray each night God would just take me in His arms and end this pain inside my head.
My grandpa is not doing any better either. He usually is ok mood wise up until about 3 pm when it the day starts to drag on and come to an end. My parents and I went over to the place he is at 2 days ago after I got off of work at 5 pm. He was agitated, restless, angry, confused, and just saying some really mean things. He was trying to stand up and setting off the alarm on his wheel chair. He didn’t want to eat his dinner and kept getting angry at dad for trying to help him eat. He was swearing at my dad and I for telling him to stay seated in his chair that we didn’t want him to fall. He doesn’t understand he cannot do what he used to be able to do because he isn’t strong enough. His dementia has worsened and I know it’s not him when he tells me to shut the hell up or to get the F*** out, I know that’s not my grandpa, but it’s the disease. But it still hurts. It hurts to watch him diminish and know that he will never be the same. It’s hard to know he will never be the pa I know and love and would joke with. He will never be that person again, and that kills me. When he got to the point where he was just so agitated that he was getting even more mean and not stopping, we decided to leave and let the nurses handle him for the night. I made it out to the hallway and I lost it. I just broke down crying because I just want my pa back. I just him to not have to go through this struggle where he has no idea what is going on, but at the same time believes he does…..he believes he is on a train, or at times on a fishing boat, or all these other things. I can’t just not go out and visit him, because he doesn’t always remember my name. I can’t do that. I have to continue to go see him, let him know I love him and that he’s not alone. This isn’t about me. This isn’t about how bad it hurts to watch him struggle, but it’s about loving him and letting him know he isn’t forgotten, he’s still my pa, he’s still my family and I will love him forever.