Working the problem
Jan. 6th, 2020 08:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
noblwishI made it! To my intake appointment at the Austin Grief & Loss Center. I've tried to get into their support groups for YEARS, but the intake appointment always tripped me up. I either dawdled on making one or I canceled at the last minute. But I made one last week and I completed it today. Good girl! *pat*pat*
Of course, I wasn't fully prepared when I got there, despite promising myself to be so, and most of the appointment was spent filling out forms online that I should have done before I arrived. My interviewer was patient and understanding, however... it's not like they deal with fully functional people for a living. As a result, the accuracy of my answers to her questions was only so-so, but I think we came to the right conclusions in the long run. I helped myself to a mediocre cry (the best kind you can have when you're sitting in your car and the sun is still up) while listening to "The Next Right Thing" from Frozen 2 on Apple Music.
A few minutes ago, just before I helped Mom to bed, we were talking about the rest of the week, our schedules, etc. I mentioned that, as she was herself likely all too familiar with, I've been putting a great deal of effort into not disappearing into my bed. Every little thing seems like I'm moving mountains, from waking up to getting dressed, to opening my bedroom door, not to mention all the stuff I'm supposed to be responsible for once I come downstairs. I've lost all motivation, all joy in any of it, and even the stuff I should be THRILLED about just leaves me anxious. Leave it to my mother to get to the heart of the problem, she asked me how much of my depression was the result of Richard's consistent presence in my life. I said that it was probably a pretty big influence on everything I'm feeling. My interviewer had asked how long ago I'd started struggling with this bout of depression, and I wasn't sure... two years was my best guess, but now, with Mom's insight, I think I can pinpoint the moment it began.
Nearly three years ago, Richard was visiting for Buddy's birthday and Valentine's Day. We got into a big fight in front of the kids, who were crying and screaming and begging us to stop. He lost his temper so badly that he put bruises on my arm and I grabbed a BBQ fork from the kitchen to fend him off (he finds that extremely funny... "why didn't you grab a knife, idiot?" Because I was afraid I'd accidentally kill you, asshole -- I have reasons for wanting you alive). The police were called and while no charges were filed (because he did leave willingly), a report was made and they encouraged me to seek a restraining order. Now, in many states, a restraining order can be obtained for little or no real reason simply by filing it with the local police department and delivering a copy to the individual you want to stay away. Once upon a time, you could do that in Texas, too. I've done it, myself... but the laws changed. Now, you have to petition the County to sue the individual, creating what is basically a criminal record. Doing so can ruin a person's life. Nevertheless, I did file a petition to keep Richard away... and was denied. I sat there with the Travis County Attorney, bruises still on my arm, the police report and recommendation as evidence, and they turned me down. So, I resolved to go at least two years without seeing or speaking to Richard. He could visit the kids, but he would not be allowed on our property and he would have to go through a third-party (my mother or, at the time, my old roommate). Well... let's just say, none of that lasted very long. The roommate didn't want to see Richard, either, even if it meant protecting me (he and I stopped speaking later that year and are no longer friends). Mom was stressed and couldn't hold up her end. Within a few months, he was back visiting the kids at the house and I was forced to interact with him. Things have gotten better since, but Richard still has a tendency to show up with little or no notice and take over, and I have to be careful of every word, every expression, every decision I make, lest I light the fuse and set him off again. The children have learned to be cautious with him, as well, while also enjoying time with their father, which is good... I think. But I'm trapped. Until Buddy is 18, this is my reality and I have no control over it. So, yeah... I've been losing my will to live a little at a time ever since.
So, what does this mean? I don't know. I'll bring it up in Group on January 14th. If I can afford to start individual counseling, I'll mention it there, as well. Meanwhile, I'm mustering the courage and the strength and the energy to take the next breath, the next step, make the next choice and do the next right thing, so help me Anna of Arendelle.
Meanwhile, here is what I have to do in the next few days:
Of course, I wasn't fully prepared when I got there, despite promising myself to be so, and most of the appointment was spent filling out forms online that I should have done before I arrived. My interviewer was patient and understanding, however... it's not like they deal with fully functional people for a living. As a result, the accuracy of my answers to her questions was only so-so, but I think we came to the right conclusions in the long run. I helped myself to a mediocre cry (the best kind you can have when you're sitting in your car and the sun is still up) while listening to "The Next Right Thing" from Frozen 2 on Apple Music.
A few minutes ago, just before I helped Mom to bed, we were talking about the rest of the week, our schedules, etc. I mentioned that, as she was herself likely all too familiar with, I've been putting a great deal of effort into not disappearing into my bed. Every little thing seems like I'm moving mountains, from waking up to getting dressed, to opening my bedroom door, not to mention all the stuff I'm supposed to be responsible for once I come downstairs. I've lost all motivation, all joy in any of it, and even the stuff I should be THRILLED about just leaves me anxious. Leave it to my mother to get to the heart of the problem, she asked me how much of my depression was the result of Richard's consistent presence in my life. I said that it was probably a pretty big influence on everything I'm feeling. My interviewer had asked how long ago I'd started struggling with this bout of depression, and I wasn't sure... two years was my best guess, but now, with Mom's insight, I think I can pinpoint the moment it began.
Nearly three years ago, Richard was visiting for Buddy's birthday and Valentine's Day. We got into a big fight in front of the kids, who were crying and screaming and begging us to stop. He lost his temper so badly that he put bruises on my arm and I grabbed a BBQ fork from the kitchen to fend him off (he finds that extremely funny... "why didn't you grab a knife, idiot?" Because I was afraid I'd accidentally kill you, asshole -- I have reasons for wanting you alive). The police were called and while no charges were filed (because he did leave willingly), a report was made and they encouraged me to seek a restraining order. Now, in many states, a restraining order can be obtained for little or no real reason simply by filing it with the local police department and delivering a copy to the individual you want to stay away. Once upon a time, you could do that in Texas, too. I've done it, myself... but the laws changed. Now, you have to petition the County to sue the individual, creating what is basically a criminal record. Doing so can ruin a person's life. Nevertheless, I did file a petition to keep Richard away... and was denied. I sat there with the Travis County Attorney, bruises still on my arm, the police report and recommendation as evidence, and they turned me down. So, I resolved to go at least two years without seeing or speaking to Richard. He could visit the kids, but he would not be allowed on our property and he would have to go through a third-party (my mother or, at the time, my old roommate). Well... let's just say, none of that lasted very long. The roommate didn't want to see Richard, either, even if it meant protecting me (he and I stopped speaking later that year and are no longer friends). Mom was stressed and couldn't hold up her end. Within a few months, he was back visiting the kids at the house and I was forced to interact with him. Things have gotten better since, but Richard still has a tendency to show up with little or no notice and take over, and I have to be careful of every word, every expression, every decision I make, lest I light the fuse and set him off again. The children have learned to be cautious with him, as well, while also enjoying time with their father, which is good... I think. But I'm trapped. Until Buddy is 18, this is my reality and I have no control over it. So, yeah... I've been losing my will to live a little at a time ever since.
So, what does this mean? I don't know. I'll bring it up in Group on January 14th. If I can afford to start individual counseling, I'll mention it there, as well. Meanwhile, I'm mustering the courage and the strength and the energy to take the next breath, the next step, make the next choice and do the next right thing, so help me Anna of Arendelle.
Meanwhile, here is what I have to do in the next few days:
- Collate and categorize the financial data for the 2019 Austin 48 Hour SciFi/Horror Film Project wrap up
- Complete the wrapup
- Pick up and pay for the parts to my car
- See if I can afford to enter the Photo Fantastico
- Research and reserve an AirBnB for Rotterdam
- Pay off my overdue ACC tuition
- Register for Spring class(es) at ACC
- Attend Meetups for Grief & Loss on January 12
- Attend Support Group for General Grief & Loss on January 14th
- Help out with Da Big Daddy G Show on Tuesday nights
- Pay for new Tai Chi uniform
- Reconsider Planet Fitness membership? (maybe put on hold)
- Attend Tai Chi
- Attend F*ck Depression Meetups on Sundays
- Begin and stick to a weekly dinner meeting with family, discussing schedules and menus
- Dye Rorie's hair