I almost didn't write about this weekend because it's embarrassing. I haven't had time to process it, or talk to my therapist about it, but this is the reality of my life. These things happen now and I can take every precaution possible and they will still happen.
I think I talked last week about being switched around on my depression medication and I'm still in the process of that so that means my emotions and feelings are basically all over the place. I have some other medications to help, I have calm down tactics to turn to when things get tough, and I'm not without help but sometimes it's hard for me to resort to them.
Why?
Because I'm really angry that I even need any of that. I am angry that I had an AFE with a pregnancy I didn't want or was prepared for. I am angry that my life has been changed so dramatically that all of the HARD work I put in for years to better myself was thrown out the window in a blink. I am angry that I have become a weak bitch.
There. I said it. I really hate myself, I really hate the shit mother I have become, and I am having a hard time living life like this. I can tell you I feel this way 100% of the time, just my medications normally mask it and I can fake it better. This weekend? Not so much.
This weekend was Olivia's last dance competition for this year. She was really excited and I was excited for her. We got up early to make the almost three hour drive to Eden Prairie, Minnesota in time for her to stretch, practice, and get her hair and makeup done.
Did that. Took a quick selfie while we waited for others to show up because we were the first ones there. We were having a good time, and by the time other families showed up I was feeling alright. I wasn't great, but I felt like I was faking it pretty well.
The girls went to do their first dance, and I thought they did a great job. They were in a large division and it looked like they were all having fun and that's all that matters to me.
They didn't place again so I could tell they were disappointed, but Olivia told me she had a lot of fun, so I was fine with the result. We aren't going to win, we're going to have fun with friends. Everything else is just a bonus.
Then there was a five hour break until our next dance and all of the other families were leaving and finding something to do. I hadn't planned on that and what I can't do anymore is go with the flow. I have to have a concrete plan, I have to mentally get ready for it, and I have to have a back up plan. I can't just drive around and hope to find something, I have to have a destination already picked out ahead of time. The pressure of having to be back in five hours, plus find parking, I just couldn't risk it. I knew we had to stay... and sit on the floor for five hours. I knew I would be in screaming pain by the end of five hours, I knew we'd likely be eating vending machine food for dinner, and I knew we'd be alone.
I started crying.
At first it was just a few tears and I thought I would be able to hide it. Then they started coming faster and I was getting a panicky feeling in my chest. My hands were tingling and I had an urge to run, run as fast as I possibly can. I just wanted to full out sob and lay down but I couldn't. I was avoiding eye contact because I knew I would really lose it if I did. People were asking me what's wrong and how do you explain you're crazy? You're a mental case who probably needs psychiatric care right now? How do I explain that this isn't cause for concern because this is my every day life. People see my Facebook feed and assume I'm doing OK for the most part, a couple of rough days here and there, but no- this is every day of my life. At some point every day I get overwhelmed and I can't do it. The thoughts that I should kill myself are loud and are on a continuous loop in my head. It's a terrifying place to be in as it is, but this weekend I did it in front of people and my daughter.
Kudos for Olivia because once everyone left she says that we can sit there for as long as I want and that she didn't care if we weren't going anywhere.
Bless her damn heart. Seriously.
The five hours went about as slow as you can imagine and I didn't get any better. I was able to not cry the entire time, but I didn't feel great and mentally I was done. I was completely done.
I sat, alone, in the auditorium waiting for her to dance again. I sat in the dark and kept to myself. I was so proud of Olivia, she did so well the second time and I think they should have at least gotten third place but were beat by a bunch of seventeen year old girls shaking their butts and boobs around and a bunch of girls twelve and under can't compete with that. Again, they were disappointed but I didn't even stick around to get another group photo. Freedom was imminent and we hustled out that door as fast as I could.
So I could cry in the car some more, of course.
We didn't get home until almost 11:30 at night and I had a ton of thinking time in the car since my road buddy fell asleep almost immediately. I thought about how differently this weekend would have been like had I not had the AFE, I thought about how I am so tired of being dependent on medication to stay alive in more ways than one. I'm tired of feeling like garbage, in more ways than one. I'm just tired.
