No end in sight.

My mother went to the doctor yesterday. She was in pain from her most recent fall. The doctor prescribed her Percocet. The pharmacist apparently was out of that and instead gave her Vicodin. Which I now realise makes no sense. A pharmacist doesn't just give out unprescribed class A narcotics. Which means she lied to me. Nothing new there.

Of course she has been abusing them. She took ten yesterday. My psychiatrist was pushing me to call her old connection. She believed that if I could convince him to not sell to her anymore, things would get better. That is a load of bullshit. She can these things anytime she wants.

I told her I was going to flush them. She told me that if I did that I would not be her son anymore. She said she would never talk to me again. I still want to do it. I know she would get over it. I won't though. I am too much of a coward. It makes my skin crawl to have them near me. I want nothing to do with them. All of my resentment for my mother, all my fears, all of the negative emotions I have from the past few months just coalesce into hate. I hate an inanimate object.

Do you have any idea how silly that is. I feel like a fucking idiot. And yet here I am. I wonder when I will reach my breaking point. Do I have one? My doctor tells me I have a problem expressing aggression. Maybe when I finally break it will all come out at once.

Taking a Knee.

So

I, missed Fat Friday. I am sorry about that. But, I have a good reason. Yesterday my mother fell. I know. Again? She was on her way to a woman's group therapy session. Her first time, I might add.

Anyway she missed her bus stop. Which meant she had to walk a few blocks. The streets around the area she was headed are highly damaged. That added with her arthritis is just a recipe for disaster.

So she took a tumble. A bad one. Her knees are both bruised (badly) and scraped (mildly). After the escalator incident this put me at wit's end. I spent most of the day worried.

The final bit of news was the possibility of that my mother might end up wheelchair bound. Not paralysed but unable to walk very well or very far.

Escalating Anxiety.

I went to see my psychiatrist today. My mother cam along because we were going to Target after. She ended up sitting in on my session. It was funny she had much more to talk about than I did. I think it was a good thing. She has a lot of issues to get through.

I found it funny how interested my Doctor was in her. She complimented my mother on how much better she looked. I enjoyed the session. I hope my mother got something out of it.

I am sure my next session will be all about her.

After that we went to Target. It was long and boring. I enjoyed it. Until the end. While going down an escalator my mother slipped. She almost fell down the escalator. She was wearing the wrong glasses.

I was terrified. I heard her call my name and the image of her broken body flashed into my mind. Luckily she only stumbled a bit. It could have been so much worse.

The funny thing is she had to back up to return something. I told her to take the elevator. She did not. It was as if she just flat out told me to go fuck myself. It was like "Fuck You I got This." I made her promise me that she would stay away from the escalators.

I have little hope she will keep this promise.

Tomorrow is Friday. That means Fat Friday. Look forward to it.

Roving Minds and Burning Wagons.

Sometimes I crave distractions. I find it very hard to focus on any one thing. Even now while I write this I am watching videos at http://cinemassacre.com. I don't why I have this problem. I used to be able to focus on one thing at a time. I think sitting in front of a computer makes it worse. Here I am in front of a machine that allows me access to limitless information. I almost feel guilty not taking advantage of that.

Whether that is the reason or not it really is a chore feeding my craving. I sometimes feel like Johnny 5. Of course there are so many things I should be doing. Things that I need to do. And yet they fall to wayside.

My mother did not fall off the wagon. She lit the damn thing on fire. She went to the dentist last week. Her dentist gave her a prescription for Vicodins. In the course of two days she took 27 pills. She came clean to me and handed the rest over to her therapist.

I wasn't mad. I know that sobriety isn't something that just happens. It takes time. I takes work. She is trying. I can't ask for more than that.

Meh.

Meh is a funny word. It is a word that means middling indifference. Indifference is hard to describe. It is by definition uninteresting, unimportant and uninspired. That is how I feel. I can't really tell you why. I just feel so uninterested.

Maybe it has to do with not getting a package I have been waiting for. But no. I think it has to do with uncertainty. I am uncertain about what is coming next. That is to say, what the next problem is and when it will hit.

I know my mother is either going to fall back into old habits or move on. The problem is that this is not going to be a huge sudden occurrence. No. It will happen slowly, over time.

I don't know how to react to that. I don't even know what I am saying. To be honest I shouldn't even be posting right now. I have nothing definite to put out. I just wanted to express something. Anything.

There was one thing that made me smile. Check after the jump.

Flip Flop.

Earlier my mother decided she did not want to go back on Vicodins. She was going to flush the few she got from her dealer. I told her to just take them back. Money is tight and we can't just flush cash away. In hindsight this was a bad choice.

She took another pill today and is unsure what she is going to do. She has to make up her mind soon. She has been going to therapy weekly. During these visits she has to give urine. This means it is only a matter of time before she is found out.

Now she isn't a part of any rehab group and has nothing depending on the results of these tests. Nothing that is but the continued prescribing of anti anxiety medication. She is worried that is she comes clean about her slip that her Psychiatrist will be hesitant to prescribe her meds.

In the past I have urged her to be honest. This has proven to be bad advice. I am unsure of how to advise her. The one thing I know for sure is that sobriety is not something you just achieve. It takes constant work.

In the course of a lifetime a few slips are nothing. I hope she understands that. I hope she accepts that. I hope that is what this is. A slip and nothing more.

Off the Wagon.

It is official. She is off the wagon. Today my mother told me that she took a Vicodin yesterday. She seems to have decided to go back on them. Apparently for the pain. I'm not sure I believe this.

I was told by my psychiatrist to call her dealer and tell him not to sell to her anymore. I did not do this. The dealer is a close friend of my mother's. I did not want to embarrass her or put their friendship in jeopardy. I regret this choice. It was easy to make though. I wanted to believe she didn't need my help.

It helped that she was against it. Offended by the idea. She was adamant that it was unnecessary. I took the easy way out.

I still am. I could call her dealer right now. I am not going to. I don't want to. I want her to stand up. I am not strong enough to accept her weakness.

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.

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie.

I have been sleeping a lot. More than I normally do. Which is bad because I usually sleep more than I should. I think I am feeling down. It probably has to do with my mother's pill mishap.

I get so angry at her. I love her more than anything in this world, but my god she is infuriating sometimes. But as I have said in the past I can understand her mindset. And yet I still wish she was stronger.

The only thing I will let myself do is try to stand with her and be there for her. That way she has someone to rely on and can use whatever strength I have as her own.

That is what she has done for me.

On a side note I plan on posting my second short story on Wednesday. I am also working on getting some pictures of my knot tying projects. If that pans out those will be up either Friday or Saturday.

I also want to thank all the People from http://www.watchgeeks.net/ and Fusionknots.com for not only visiting the site but also for providing such fun and friendly forums.

Thank You.

Teetering On Edge.

Over the past week and half my mother has been double dipping into her anxiety meds. This means that she is now on half dosage.

So for the next two weeks she has to deal with starvation rations. This has me worried. There isn't anything I can do about it. I don't have access to anti-anxiety medication. I have been prescribed this type of medication in the past but do not have any at the moment.

She has done this before. As long as she gets some amount in her system, she can deal. But if she pushes any more she may have to deal with another withdrawal. She always ends up like this.

I don't know why. Actually that's not true. I do know why. As bad as her withdrawal was, it is in the past. Once you get past something like that the effect wanes. I have been going through something similar. Nowhere near as drastic though.

I am a big fat guy. And as such have had more than one incident that made me question myself. Many in fact. No matter how bad they were I always shrugged them off and went right back to over eating.

Changing your personality is the hardest thing in the world.

I know.

I have been working on that for ten years. No since I was 13 or 14. So close to 15 years. I am just starting to see progress.

Slowly but surely.

So Much Blood!

Something odd happened last night. I scratched an itch on my lower back. In doing so, I removed a scab. Once this scab was gone I began to bleed. Now this wasn't just a few drops. Or even a slow flow. No blood was literally shooting out of this very small wound. I have never bleed so  much in my life. I don't know how or why it happened.

When I realized how badly I was bleeding, I hurried to the bathroom. There was blood everywhere. It went through my clothes, shot across the bathroom and stained my bed. I had to get help to see how bad the wound was and to make sure I hadn't somehow opened a vein. I say wound but it was barely pin prick. Nothing more than a tiny little hole.

Eventually I stopped bleeding. Cleaned up the mess and went on with the night. I was lucky to have my mother there to give me a hand. Even after the all the problems we have had she is still my rock when I need her.

So that was my night. I plan on uploading another short story as soon as possible. I hope you guys read and like it.

Good Day

Today was actually a good day. Nothing bad happened. In fact my mother not only went out but she contacted some of her friends. I am so very happy about that.

To be honest I don't have many friends. I what is called Schizoid Personality disorder. Which means I am prone to having very few friends. As of recently I had two good friends. One of which I haven't spoken to in almost a year. We usually talk online but he hasn't been on for months. I don't have his phone number and feel weird about just going to see him.

The other was a worker at my local deli. Recently the deli was raided my the NYPD because it was a drug front. My friend had no part in this but the deli has since closed. We never exchanged contact info. I could probably find him online but he didn't have a computer.

I could find them but to be honest I just haven't done it. I won't say I have no interest in finding them but it is rarely at the front of my mind. That is also part of my disorder.

Having said that I am actually pretty happy. All things considered my problems are minor. If you read this blog than you know what I mean.

I am going to try to post one of my short stories tomorrow. No promises.

Almost but not Quite

So over the past few days things have been pretty good. My mom is feeling better. She isn't completely past it but is getting closer. However some habits die hard. Once again she is over doing her medication. She has been taking more anxiety medication than prescribed.

This is bad. As it is she will have cut back for the next two weeks just to make due. I wish she was strong enough to tough it out.

She gets scared. Scared that she might fall back into how she was just a few days ago. I understand that. I also know that is she keeps going the way she is than that fear will become a reality.

All I can do is keep that from happening.

Cautiously Optimistic

Things are going better. My mother is on her old anxiety meds and has calmed down quite a lot. She seems to be at the tail end of the post withdrawal. So I am cautiously optimistic that we are past the shit. 

I am a little anxious about it. The last time I thought we where almost out of this, things got much worse. Knowing that I have been a bit shaky. My mother told me to take some of her anti-anxiety medication. I refused. Mainly because she needs it more than I do, but also do to the fact that it makes feel foggy. Besides I have an appointment on Thursday with my psychiatrist. So I should be able to get my own prescription.

If thing continue the way they are I will be posting a few short stories I have written in the past. If not then expect more near daily drama. Wish me luck.

Metropolitan ER

So I went to the hospital on Sunday. Not because I was sick. Oh no, I was completely fine. My mother on the other hand was not. She had an anxiety attack coupled with horrible stomach pain. We tried to go to our local Doctor only to fine his office closed for the day.

My mother was at her wits end. She was confused, paranoid, weak and in pain. I had to push her into going to get help. We hopped in a cab and were at the ER in a few short minutes. She was coherent but confused. Her breathing was ragged and her face red. We were ushered past the waiting room into the pre-exam area.

There we met a male nurse who I can only describe as an asshole. He remembered my mother from her previous visits and treated her like a junkie in need of her next fix. My mother is a lot of things. But she is not, nor has she ever been a junkie. When she went to the Emergency Room it was not for Vicadins but for some kind of help. Something to get her past the withdrawal.

However that didn't seem to matter. This man was not very interested in helping us. Unfortunately for him my mother was legitimately sick. As such she was given a bed. The nurse told her to change and wait. You have to understand that she was in severe pain. Her stomach was on fire. So waiting was not an easy thing to do.

After a while a different nurse arrived to take her blood. Sometime later a Doctor arrived. He looker her over and put her on an IV for her stomach. We saw another Doctor who told us that they could only treat her physical ailment and that she would have to see a Psychiatrist for her anxiety.

The IV did it's job and she began to feel a little better. She told me to leave her and go home. Truth be told I was tempted. But I stayed. When the IV finished we were told that we could wait to see Psychiatrist but they would not prescribe her the pills she needed. Even though she would only need four.

We got a prescription for her stomach and left. It turns out her stomach had been effected by the Vicadin. It was just going back to normal when her anxiety caused it to act up. The worse her anxiety the worse the pain. The worse the pain the worse the anxiety. And so on and so forth in perpetuity.

So another visit to the hospital and another dose of apathy. Only this time she got some help in spite of that.

This morning she was pretty bad shape again. But she finally took my advise and called her friend. Her friend was able to giver a few anxiety pills to get her through this. Had she done this the day before we wouldn't have had to go the ER.

Anyway she has an appointment on Tuesday. She should be able to get her meds. I hope she doesn't fuck it up again. Not only is this tedious and tiring but it is getting redundant. Emotional breakdowns should not be redundant.

This is what I meant when I said I could use more nothing.

On a side note. There was a guy in the room with us. He had allergies. Apparently he had coughed up a little blood. Just a bit. Scary sure but not really serious. He went to emergency room because of this. The entire we where there I never heard him cough or even sneeze. Who the FUCK goes to an ER for allergies?

Also while we were at the hospital my mother embarrassed an orderly. I think she was an orderly. The only thing I know for sure is that she wasn't a nurse. My mother bruises easily and has deep veins. This means that it is hard to draw blood from her and she almost always gets a large black and blue. The orderly was going to try to take her blood when my mother warned her she would get one chance. You see she remembered the woman from a previous visit. This threw the orderly off. She spent the next five minutes trying to find a vein before giving up entirely. I felt sorry for her but found the whole thing funny.

Beginning Redux

I am not a huge fan of the Black Eyed Peas but I do like one song. It's anxiety. There is a lyric that really hit me.

I don't fear none of my enemies
And I don't fear bullets from Uzi's
I've been dealing with something that's worse than these
That'll make you fall to your knees and that's the
The anxiety the sane and the insane rivalry
Paranoia's brought me to my knees
Lord please please please
Take away my anxiety
The sane and the insane rivalry
Paranoia's brought me to my knees
Lord please please please
Take away my anxiety

I have some Anxiety issues in the past, but nothing compared to what my mother has gone through. She has severe near crippling anxiety. I bring this up because at the moment she has no anxiety meds. Which means not only is she really anxious but she is also dealing with some withdrawal. She barely got past her last withdrawal.

Since we knew this was coming we did some preparing. This morning we bought some Advil, Imodium, Benadryl, Alka Seltzer, Ginger ale and Vodka. The Advil being for her head of course. The Imodium is not only for her stomach but it is also an opiate which will help with the withdrawal. We got Benadryl because it is an Anxiolytic, which means it can help with the anxiety itself. The Alka Seltzer and Ginger ale are for her stomach and finally the Vodka is just to help with her nerves.

I tried a bit of it. It is horrendous. It tastes like rubbing alcohol. Or at least what I assume rubbing alcohol would taste like. It was nasty.

In case you were wondering everything combined did almost nothing. Not completely nothing. It did just enough to be noticeable.

I said before that sometimes nothing is good. Sometimes it's not.

Nothing

I wasn't going to post today. I didn't feel the need. Nothing happened today. Well nothing of any interest. My mother had the chills during the day but that was it.

But then I had a thought. Nothing is something I haven't had in a while. The past few weeks have been filled to the brim. Nothing is change of pace. It may be boring but sometimes boring isn't so bad.

I could do with a lot more nothing.

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.