Tick, Tick, Tick

Cooperstown, NY

So.

Life confounds.

I’ve been given a reprieve. I started estrogen (back in spring of 2017). And many physical symptoms of *whateverthehellthisis* ebbed.

My head cleared a bit. I regained what feels like my full field of view. I don’t see many movement hallucinations in my peripheral vision. I can usually remember what conversation I’m in while I’m in it.

The stuff is all still there, but it doesn’t rule every minute of every day.

But I feel like a ticking time bomb. How long do I have before BOOM!?

Am I the only person in the world to experience this? Is there no doctor who would explore the connection between estrogen and my neurological problems?
Not that my experience represents a majority of women with neurological problems after menopause…but I can’t possibly be the only one.

Can I?

on the other hand…

I found myself outside today, shoveling snow in my long johns.

Damn…neighbors definitely saw me. 

But guess what…neighbors see me out-of-doors in my underwear and what do they think?

Oh that poor thing out in the snow in her underwear…poor thing really is losing her marbles.

They don’t know that I’d have been out there just like this, thirty years ago.

Now I can use “memory loss” as an excuse for just being me. Cool.

late fees

I asked Luz over to help sort my mail. I can’t make meaningful categories anymore. When I have meaningful categories, I  can’t figure out what goes where. And then I put things on the wrong stacks.

Luz helped me sort about six stacks of mail, and we made one important pile of late bills and tax payments.

This was over a week ago. Still have not paid my late bills and tax payments.

I’m losing my ability to adult. I’m ashamed…grateful to those who help and yet still ashamed because I still do not follow through, in spite of the generous gifts of time and caring.

Late fees continue to grow.

wishing to die

I have been saying things like “I don’t want to die, but…” or “I’m not suicidal, but…”

But nothing.

I want to die. I am suicidal. This pain is unbearable.

But I am a single parent. I’m in no danger of hurting myself, because there are things more important than me and my pain. Things like my kid.

Life hurts too much and is too confusing and I am scared all the time. I am scared to tell anybody how much this hurts because I don’t want to share this burden with someone I care about.

I am scared about money because the wealthy mother prefers to take it all with her.

I am scared about ending up alone because I am a fucking basket case in a new relationship. In a new town, in a new state. With a teenager who didn’t want to move, who doesn’t like it here, and who has no other family but me.

I miss being able to paint. But when I try to create art, nothing happens.

I miss getting into a good book. But I have no focus.

I miss laughing. I miss being there for other people. But I have isolated myself so well and for so long that I could go weeks without leaving the house and nobody would notice, except BF. And what a fucking burden this for BF. And I can’t level with him about this…wtf is he going to do with that information?

I think of soaking in a hot bath and just opening a vein…letting go of everything. Pain. Guilt. Despair. Loneliness. Fear. Conflict. Sweet release.

But there shall be no release for me. How fucking selfish would I be, to leave my kid that kind of legacy?

So I don’t know. What’s next? Cry myself to sleep? Wipe my tears, have dinner with BF, pretend that I’m kinda sorta OK?

I have had depression all my life. But I am 55 years old and I have never felt anything like this before. Nothing that lasted beyond a terrible night or so. This is ongoing. It never lets up.

Last week, I called as many people as I could think of, to try to reach out and feel less lonely and I don’t know. It kinda just made me feel worse.

Holy fuck, what a disaster am I.