Highs and Lows

Today was a good day. As close to good as we have had recently. The past few days have been pretty bad. My mother was fragile, depressed and anxious. On Monday morning she went to a doctor's appointment. She was shaking and crying. I couldn't go with her do to money issues.

As scared as she was she prevailed. Unfortunately it turned out her appointment was on Tuesday. When she came home she was a wreck. Shaking and crying even more. The small task had nearly broken her. She spent the rest of the day on edge.

When Tuesday came it was the same story just a different day. This time she decided to walk to her appointment and take the time to calm down. Things went a little better. But only slightly.

Last week her psychiatrist upped her anti anxiety medicine by three fold, it wasn't enough. It turns out that she had been double dipping. What was supposed to last four two weeks at three pills a day was almost gone in a week. I told her to be honest with her doctor. I was wrong.

She was treated like a junkie. Her doctor accused her of abusing her pills. She again recommended a methadone pill. My mother told her that she was craving vicodins, she just felt very anxious.

Her doctor sent her off with nothing. Even with that as the day went on she got better. She even went through a visit, from my cousin, without crying. This was a step forward.

For the first time in weeks she has gone an entire day without shedding a tear. I should be happy. And yet I am not. I am worried about what will happen with no anxiety medication. I get the feeling that this will be the quiet before the storm. Which sucks because the last just barely ended.

At Mine

Another day. Another emotional moment. I am so done with this. I know I shouldn't say that. But my god. How much drama can a person take. To be honest I'm just venting. If my mother needs me I'll be there, but I find it harder and harder to be nice about it. She needs to be strong.

I know she has it in her. I have seen it. I just need her to believe in that strength. I need her to show it to me. There is only so much I can do. I wish I was stronger, more patient, and more understanding. I wish that I didn't just want to grab her by the shoulders and yell at her to get over it.

Wishes don't always come true. I know that. But I also know that as long as this is taking, the improvements are there. She is better.

I need to hold onto that.

I just wish she would.

Ups and Downs

Things get better. But can still seem worse. My mother had a bad day. She had what I can best describe as a an emotional flashback. The deep rooted fear cam back, albeit not as strong. I told her that as bad as she was, she was still leagues ahead of where she was. Or as I like to put it "You have done worse. You have done better. You can do this.".

I know it's sappy, but to someone who is emotionally fragile sappy isn't all that bad.

Playing Hooky.

I skipped my doctor's appointment today. I was supposed to see my psychiatrist but didn't feel up to it. I'm actually feeling a little sick. But that's not why I stayed home. Honestly, I still feel tired. Not physically. Not even psychologically. The best way to explain it is to say that I feel kind of vulnerable. Usually when I feel like that I make sure to go to my appointments. Today I just really wanted to stay home. So I did.

My mother is getting better. Today was a little harder than yesterday but still better than Monday. She may not be at her best but she'll get there. I'll make sure of that.

Hey are those flying colors?

So my mother finally got passed the withdrawal. Yesterday we woke early and went to see her psychiatrist. It was a hard morning. Her stomach was acting up. Had she eaten anything, of any substance, the past few days she would have been vomiting. As it was, she simply dry heaved every so often.

My cousin's boyfriend gave us a lift to the doctors office. This was a blessing. I don't think my mother could have handled the bus in her condition. By the time we arrived at the doctor's office she was doing better. Probably thanks to the Alka-Seltzer she took.

We didn't have to wait long. Her doctor saw us rather quickly. She upped her anxiety medication by four fold. Which was something my mother was worried about. With the prescription in hand and nice little walk in front of her, she did something I hadn't seen for quite a while. She smiled. I was so unbelievably happy. We bought some fruit, filled her prescription and took the bus home.

With the anxiety medication in her system and a much needed sense of calm about her, she finally relaxed. As happy as I was, I was more tired than anything. Emotionaly and physically exhausted.

And then there was an earthquake. At the time I thought maybe I just had the shakes. Funnily enough my mother didn't feel a thing.  

Black Cloud

Things have gone bad to worse. My mother is in despair. Stuck and unable to move. There is nothing she can do. No way to help herself. No way I can help her. I thought maybe some meditation might be helpful.

I tried to help her visualize something, anything to get away from the pain and fear. She couldn't do it. Her mind is to deeply buried. I want to pull her up but I can't. I am so tired. So spent. I know that she must feel infinitly worse. That scares me. How much longer can she last? Everyone has a breaking point. Has she already passed hers? Is this what truly being broken is?

I did some research on Vicodin withdrawal. She should be coming out of it. This should be the end. But I have a feeling that things are going to get much worse. Like maybe this was the easy part. I could just be in bad state of mind. I don't know. I keep thinking of a hill. Only the hill doesn't have a hilltop. Instead all that's there is hole. I know that sounds overly dramatic. But that's how I feel.

Broken

Today started with a chance. A chance that it might be a good day. That didn't happen. Like yesterday and everyday since my mother's last visit to the hospital, she had what can only be described as a breakdown. I was able to calm her down and keep her home the last few times. Today I failed. As I type this, she is in the hospital yet again. I made sure she wasn't alone this time. She is with my Aunt. Who I love dearly. Unfortunately she is not very good at dealing with damaged people. She tried to talk my mother down, By saying and I quote "Calm Down.".

But I am glad she was here. I feel broken. My mind is frayed. I find myself shaking. If I try hard enough I can pull it together. I've trying to indulge in my favorite hobby. Which decorative knot tying. However I can't seem to concentrate. It's something that normally brings me peace. Now not so much.

If any one is interested in Knot Tying, click the link below.

http://fusionknots.com/

Something Different Yet Again

My third and last entry for the Bookmark contest.

The Bus

The bus means something to me. I identify with it. Maybe because I’ve spent so much time on it watching the city as I go by. Never focusing on any one thing to long. The bus drives home how big New York City is. How diverse the people in it are. On the bus I get to see snippets of life. In the winter I can see the homeless shiver in the cold. When it rains I see the business men who would normally wait for a cab.  In the summer I can hear the laughter of teenagers trying to beat the heat of the subway. Year round there are Hispanic and Asian nannies taking care of young white children. Other times I catch a whiff of perfume or shampoo from a woman passing me by. On bright days I feel the warmth of the sun through the windows. Sometimes I am assaulted by the unseemly acts of my fellow passengers. A young man cutting his nails a few feet away from me. An older woman eating left over spaghetti early in the morning. Or the time a man had a conversation with my hand. I see people with their noses in books and others with their thumbs on cell phones. I may see these things at other times but I only take note of them on the bus. Because when I’m on the bus I can’t escape from them and when I‘m on the bus I wouldn’t want to.

Something Different Again

The second Bookmark I wrote.

Things

There was a time when that building cast a shadow in the landscape of my mind. It haunted my dreams and never left me in peace. I spent so many of my days sitting at a desk in that building. One of many but I alone knew the truth. That building was evil. I could feel the energy flow through the rooms. It was dark and tainted with lost ambitions and failed hopes. The desks and chairs were normal. The windows were clear and the walls strong. There was nothing wrong with the building. Nothing at all, and yet it scared me. At times it still does, even though I have long since escaped its pull. It still makes me shiver. Things happened in that building. Things I once forgot but can never forget again. But what gets me. What makes me give it second looks, is that I am alone. To everyone else it is just a building. I have to wonder how many things in this world are evil? How many things have tormented a single person and left everyone else alone? How many times have I past something that made another cower? Think about that. About what frightens you and you alone. Think about your secret fears. Imagine all the people in the world and every fear hidden in the recesses of their minds. Think about that and wonder why these things have left you alone. Think about that and hope the things don’t change their minds.

Something Different

The following is a very short story I wrote for a contest. The idea was that the story would fit on a bookmark. I wrote three entries. This is the first.

The Block

I’ve lived on the same block all my life. I’ve seen the storefronts change and the people age. Races come and go. Italians, Puerto Ricans, Blacks and Mexicans have all lived on the block. So many things have changed. But the block remains the same. The sounds and scents change but the feeling is eternal. The feeling I get from the old woman walking with confidence or the children laughing with each other. There are still guys standing on the corner at night with one foot in the gutter and the other slipping. Even as the block becomes gentler there is still an undercurrent of danger. I see the changes and know the more things change the more they stay the same. The block is as it was. I would have it no other way. Some people don’t like that. They want to break the block’s spirit. They try to cripple it with high rents and disapproving looks. But the block is strong. The people are strong. They may not be the same ones who fought before. But they fight just the same. The men and women of the block change. But the important things stay the same. They still fight to lead a good life, fight to provide for their families, and fight to give their kids a chance at a home. There was a time when people came from small towns. But here and now, in this city, we come from blocks and it means just the same.

New Beginning Same Story Next Page

Things have gone from bad to worse. Where to begin. On Tuesday morning my mother went to the hospital, for an appointment with her psychiatrist and an interview for a rehab program. I wasn't there. I didn't go with her the night before either. I don't know why. I just couldn't take it anymore. It's one thing to deal with the problems at home, but I just didn't feel strong enough to deal out there. I was also afraid of what might happen next.

After telling her doctor about her recent problems, it was recommend that she be admitted to the metropolitan psych ward. That was what I was afraid of. Maybe I have abandonment issues, or maybe the fact that I had been there tainted the idea for me. Whatever the reason, the prospect of my mother being admitted paralyzed me. I spent the entire day desperately trying to kill the thoughts in my head. However suicide never crossed my mind. So, yay me.

As it turned out my mother changed her mind after a glimpse of what the psych ward would be like. Eventually she came home worse for ware. But she was home. Which was the only thing that mattered to me.

After another bad night we awoke to the prospect of a new day. Instead of embracing the possibility I hid from it. I left my still sick mother to herself. I can't tell you how ashamed of my cowardice I am. Even with my betrayal she did what she had to. Showing me again how strong she can be. Of course during the remainder of the day there where ups and downs. That's life.

I know that what I wrote doesn't do justice to the actual events but I wanted to put it here while it was still raw. I also know that no one is reading this, but it is my hope that putting this out there will do me some good. If nothing else.

New Beginning Same Story

Have you ever felt like you had no more emotions? I don't mean emotionally spent. No I mean empty. I feel like that today.

Things started bad and degraded into much worse. My mother awoke in severe pain. The degenerative arthritis in her back was acting up. There was not much we could do. I put Tiger Balm on her back, for all the good that did.

The pain pushed her to the edge. She began to breakdown. But low and behold we found a Vicadin. One single solitary Vicadin. I told her to take. What harm could it do?

A huge breakdown and a return to the emergency room. The psychiatric emergency room. But that's not the worse of it. For starters my mother told all her recent secrets to my father. My father who is a former addict himself. He took it surprisingly well up until he left to get crack. At least that's what he said he would do. He came back with out the crack. I am very proud of him because or that.

He offered to take my mother to the hospital. It was difficult for her to pull the trigger, if you will excuse the term. Eventually she chose to go with my cousin. She said it was because we lacked cab fair and my cousin could drive her there. I'm not sure if that was the only reason. I do know that this decision will eventually bite her in the ass. Soon the whole family will know about this.

You may notice that I am somewhat absent from this part of the story. I was tired. Very tired. To be honest I couldn't deal with it anymore. So, I removed my self from the equation. I made an offer, half hearted though it was, to go with her. She refused. I don't even feel bad. I wish I did.

The only thing that affected me was a hug. As I hugged her good-bye she made asked me if I was going to hurt myself. To be honest the thought had crossed my mind fleetingly. I told her I would be her when she came back.

To sum up it was a much worse day.

New Beginning

Today was a good day. The new meds are helping my mother. It wasn't perfect. There were moments of anxiety, pain and sadness. Even with that she is hopeful, as am I. She decided, for some unknown reason, to shave her head. I was originally against the idea. Mainly because i assumed this was a decision made during a less than stable moment. A "Britney" if you will.

She convinced me otherwise. It is her belief that shaving her head will be a symbolic first step on her new beginning. And so a shaving we did go. To be honest it was cathartic for me as well. I haven't laughed liked that (during the shaving) in months. It was a good day. I hope tomorrow will be if not better, than just as good. Or at least not much worse.

Despair

On Friday my mother went to the emergency room in the hope of getting something, anything, to help with her withdrawal. She was turned away. She spent the day on the brink of suicide. She screamed for death and cursed her life. I tried to keep her from sinking to low. I didn't do very well. truth be told there was a moment when I wanted to die as well.

I have attempted suicide twice in my life. Once when I was 13 and again when I was 18. That was ten years ago. During that time I have not had a true suicidal thought. There have been flashes, but they never went anywhere. But on Friday, as I sat in the bathroom, I craved the relief of death. It only lasted a few seconds, but they were bad seconds.

Following that I pulled myself together and did everything I could to be there for her. I even endured a few half hearted punches to my jaw. I wasn't at my best though. I could have done better.

However we survived. Earlier today she returned to the hospital and received some much needed treatment. Things are looking up. But I was thinking that just a few days ago. We'll see what happens next.

The Reason

This Blog is going to be a bit odd. It will chronicle both my attempts at being a writer, as well as my mother's attempt at staying sober. At the moment I have not written anything of any substance in weeks. My mother is in the midst of her second withdrawal in as many months. So that's where we're starting from.