Wagons. They are hard to stay on.

A few things happened recently.

The first and most important is that my mother almost fell off the wagon. She went to see her dealer, who happens to be a close friend  of hers. This was not a good idea. Temptation should not be tempted. She convinced her friend, who was very reluctant, to give her eight vicodins. He told her to really think it over.

I am happy no ecstatic to say that she did. When she got home that day she very quickly left again. She went to visit my aunt and gave her the pills. She could have just thrown them out but then she would have to pay for them. So she faced temptation and lost. But only for a short time. My mother is still on the wagon.

I want to say that again because it brings a smile to my face. My mother is still on the wagon.


Now for the other thing. After missing two appointments in a row a went to see my psychiatrist. I have had a lot psychiatrists over the years. My current one is the most strong willed. I was put off by this at first. I don't like being pushed. It makes the sessions harder to deal with. It also makes them much more impactful.

Yesterday was one of those sessions. First she very nicely reaffirmed the idea that when I am at my most vulnerable is the best time to go to a session. I fell that when I am at my most vulnerable is the best time to go to bed. I know she is right but my belief is much more pleasant.

Anyway we had a productive session. During which she raised a rather unpleasant idea. The idea that I may be keeping my mother sick. For a while now I have felt that my main purpose, the thing that defines me, was taking care of my parents. Not in a monetary sense, but just generally. You see I am unemployed and living at home. I do what I can for them. To pay them back for everything they have done for me. If there was nothing to do then it would leave me undefined.

At least that was how I felt before. Since my mother's withdrawal I think that has changed. It is true that I sometimes enable her and still do whatever I can for them, but that isn't how I define myself. I don't define myself anymore.

I just am. I know that what I just wrote is hard to understand but that's what it feels like. It feels like a description lacking in detail.

To sum up my mother is getting stronger and my doctor makes me question things. Both of these things are positive. So it's been a good couple of days.