Depression, etc.....
I have been....going thru a terrible depression. Pain is the cause...that, and the inability to get out and about, to function as I once could. I thought I had become fairly accepting, but I see that I haven't...no one really wants to accept a defeat, which is what this feels like. I feel hopeless, it seems as though there are far too many obstacles to hurdle and mentally, emotionally, I'm not up to the challenge. I need motivation, a desire to work hard at my health, especially now that the weather has warmed enough...yet, my depression bogs me down, deeper & deeper. Fear, pain, a feeling of impending doom, anxiety attacks more & more frequently....
I have felt like ending my life at times,
yet ....somewhere inside me, I think: What if things were just about to get better? What if a cure was found? What if ending my life makes me fall out of favour with God and I must burn for it? My life will have been in vain.
I use all the methods of self talk, like telling myself it could be worse, there are others enduring more, I'm lucky to have what I have, etc etc...but right now I am angry, bitter, tired, in pain and my thinking is tinged, or rather, permeated with negativity and I have no real long term perspective, no hope, no optimism.
I have been angry frequently thru the years, thinking about how my Mom always tried to infuse me with hope...the hope I speak of was the hope that someday we (our family) would move somewhere warm where I would begin to live more fully, with more health...a fresh start! My anger stems from the fact that that never happened. I hung onto a false hope, tried to sustain myself and carry on yearning for that moment when we'd go to a better place. I found out a few years ago, my Dad had kept my Mom on that same empty hope...he kept telling her "yes yes if a job presents itself we can move"...but he at long last admitted he'd never had any intention of moving. He liked it where we were, he liked the people, his job, etc...and the weather didn't make HIM sick. Of course not! And he grew up in that region! He was happy there, near his family, his old stomping grounds...he was one of them.
Whereas my Mom came to the region from down south, never feeling at home once she arrived, feeling like an outsider and not at all liking the customs or the blunt, crudeness of the people in that region. My Mom could get along with anyone, she has a charming personality, no artifice about her, she's very sincere, funny, loyal, kind, giving and goes out of her way to make others feel welcome! I can imagine the culture shock of her first day among strangers in a place where the people are rude, blunt, unyielding, stubborn and very opinionated and not afraid to blast anyone. No one welcomed her, but rather stood off in little huddles, staring at her, talking about her, making her feel just terrible...so clicquey and prejudiced that area. If you don't hail from there, you're considered an outsider.
It took Mom years to establish any kind of friendships there...once she started working, she met a few people who also hailed from elsewhere and developed some great friendships...these people had faced some of the same and could definitely relate. My Mom really began to find that although there were some pretty nice people as well, that she was definitely different and did not share the same beliefs, customs or lifestyle and found that she didn't care to become one of them. She never quit yearning for "home" and imparted much of that feeling into us kids...we never liked it there, never felt at home and always felt as though we were constantly waiting for something...in limbo. My Mom refused to buy a house there, thinking if they did, they'd be stuck there forever. She was always of the mindset "Don't nail down the carpets...we might move."
I think how miserable she must have felt inside, facing each & every day with the same false hope she imparted in us kids...unwittingly. She once said that she'd hoped to give us hope so that we'd keep striving, looking ahead and not give up. But, if the hope one strives toward does not come to fruition eventually, a bitterness, a hopelessness, a loss of faith begins to creep in.
Hence, my anger.
I always wondered why Mom didn't just go ahead and leave...why she didn't bring forth ultimatums.....I've asked her and we've talked about it a lot....
Those were much different times...maybe they don't seem so awfully long ago but times were far different. Wives stayed where their husbands were for the most part. Mom was not nearly so independent of thought or action as she is now. She had 2 kids to think about and trying to support 2 kids on a womans salary in those days, not to mention the stigma would have been very difficult at best. Mom is loyal and dedicated and at that time still believed in Dad's promises to eventually move should the right job become available.
Not that I ever knew him to actively seek one out.
Dad was content with what he had and really didn't take our desires into consideration. More than once he told me "If you don't like it, you can just leave" and long long before Mom was fully aware of Dad's lies and deceptions, I was, my brother was.
My brother and I were quite different types...He, being quite healthy and active, made more of a life for himself, by being able to join in, making friends and feeling more a part of things. He was independent minded and innovative, often having kids waiting in awe for him to go play with them, while he finished whatever he was doing...a drawing, making a toy, whatever, and he was just so totally immersed in it, he just let them wait and they did so willingly....because he was so cool and clever, so amusing a playmate, so free thinking and fascinating to them.He was one of those kids you just wanted to hang around with because he was so intelligent and funny, so hyper and always into something new.
Years later, due to my Dad's constant negativity and criticism, both inherent in Dad, my brother's confidence in himself plummeted and he began to feel inferior and become more and more negative himself. My Dad's dad was a very negative person, always grouchy and grumpy, bossy and opinionated, always putting people down. Always pessimistic.He had a way of making one feel like a piece of crap if they didn't live up to the standards that are expected. He lived by some weird code where you are supposed to do certain things "just because you're supposed to" "That's the way it is!!" but if one were to question him, either he'd cuff ya one, yell or have nothing to say because he really couldn't back up his so-called beliefs...they were "just the way it is"
I found him infuriating and avoided him as much as possible.
My Dad is a lot like him...and now so is my brother, although he would argue that, vehemently. It makes me so sad to see the free-spirited person he might have been...become the grouchy, negative thinker that he is. He feels angry inside, very frustrated and angry...that he feels he falls far short of our father's approval. He does not want to be what he thinks Dad expects, yet rankles at falling short of it. He see's Dad as an opinionated person, negative and critical. He sees him as lacking empathy and insight.
Why he would wish to live up to what Dad expects from him could be an enigma...it seems to be to my brother. But to me, I see it thru different eyes...I see that we all seem to want to have our parents approval, even children who've been abused by those parents. My brother seeks the love and approval of a father unable and possibly unwilling to ever give it....or to give it in the way my brother might hope. Rationally, I think my brother realizes my Dad is emotionally different from him....in that Dad finds displays of affection impossible, words of praise difficult to give...always pessimistic ... and he cannot ever seem to get past the same attitudes of his own father, my grandfather, whose world was very narrow indeed, as he lived by a code he never questioned....you do it cuz you're sposta. Sad ... really sad not to think for onesself. Even stranger, to be so extremely opinionated yet to feel compelled to live in accordance with someone elses set of rules...."cuz you're sposta!" Who the hell decreed that?
Perhaps my Grampa was himself angry and frustrated...having been successor to his fathers lack of affection, praise, his inability to show affection and love....and perhaps his father before him?
In his old age, my grandfather suffered a stroke and was placed in a rest home. After he recovered, so did his contrary nature...and he was placed on antidepressants. My Grampa was never so friendly, loving and outgoing. I often wonder how much better his life could have been had he received meds many many years before...not to mention how much happier the lives of my Grama, Dad, his sisters could have been.
Why is it we rebel against medication for mental or emotional problems? We fear our sanity is in question? Is not treating these afflictions just as, if not more, important than treatying ANY underlying health problem?
The mental/emotional health of a family....is affected by one person. This dysfunction can and does perpetuate itself...and it doesn't have to!
Back in the day these things weren't discussed, they were swept under the proverbial rug, spoken of, if at all, in shrouded whispers, in shame.
Today, mental health issues are not stigmatized as they once were...certainly not to the extent that they were in my Grandparents time. There have been huge strides in communicating about these things and in learning the warning signs and in acquiring treatment. Unfortunately, very often the very people needing help are the least likely to see or to realize it. We must no longer sweep problems like this under the rug....because to do so endangers the entire family.
They need to be addressed, regardless of the furor it will cause.
Families become closed off as they attempt to hide one family members' problem, they are often at the mercy of that person and the entire family becomes dysfunctional. As difficult as it is to confront anyone with mental or emotional problems, it is absolutely essential, if they are to begin healing. There is often a lot of shame associated with it, embarrassment....fear of discovery, etc. The rest of the family will come to resent the afflicted person as well. All in all, it's a very unhealthy situation.
I had not been headed down this road as I began this post, yet I've arrived here...and I see that as I have written and thought about my family situation, that there has been more dysfunction than I myself realized and it has lessened some of my own inner turmoil...since I have beat myself up so much throughout the years, believing I was "bad" and "unlovable" and to be ashamed of because I was sick all the time, unable to be what was expected of me. I hated myself and I see that, more than I thought, I too, yearned for approval, or at least acceptance. To not be forced to "sweep it under the rug" and pretend things were normal, that I was normal, when I was not. I always felt I'd done something wrong to be ill and not like others....and I tried so hard to pretend things were o.k. so my Dad wouldn't be embarrassed or ashamed of me. So my entire family wouldn't be embarrassed.
I'd been the victim of my Dad's comments in front of other's where he made me kind of a joke, singling me out so he could kind of make it known that I was the odd one and he'd kind of laugh and I'd stand there dying inside, expected to laugh at the hilarious joke that was me. Dad was embarrassed of me because I wasn't normal, like I was sposta be!
I always felt I was letting my family down. Always.
I now realize my Dad played a huge role in making me feel that way, I felt so much worse about myself than I should have had to. For if he'd been kind, or demonstrative, affectionately reassuring and if he'd not cared what others thought, if he'd told me, even once that it wasn't my fault and that he was proud of me, that my illness wasn't a shame to him....well, it could have made a world of difference to a shy, sick, scared, fragile, eager-to-please little girl. Ditto for my brother...If only Dad would have been a buddy to him, praised his efforts instead of constantly criticising....tried to work "with" him instead of against him... to help him learn new things, joyfully, with fun and camaraderie...If he'd ever supported his ideas and congratulated him on his ability to do something really well....if he'd been cool when their ideas differed instead of expecting him to see things his way only...If he'd ever have tried to remember what it felt like to be a kid....but he didn't.
I guess my Dad grew up in a very "normal" home considering where he lived, since most of the people there had the same basic lifestyles, attitudes, expectations...and my Dad seems to think he grew up happy ... sort of. I mean, he just accepts things as they are, were...he just accepted them and didn't sit around getting all introspective about it. He's like "Well, that just the way it is/was" and that's that. No use crying over spilled milk, yada yada. Dad is aware that his dad was a grouchy person but he isn't insightful enough to see why, or that he's become just like him or how adversely it affected their family...
How Grama was always supposed to tiptoe around him, never wanting to be the brunt of his rages.........
How he expected everyone to jump when he spoke...
How even when company was coming, if they were delayed for any reason, Grampa sat down to eat, he wouldn't wait even 5 minutes....dinner's at 12 be there or else!
He was so very methodical and unyielding about everything!
No matter the situation, he'd never have EVER stayed up past his bedtime to assist or remedy it. It's bedtime...you go to bed. Period.
My Dad's the same.
.....early to bed, early to rise, you made your bed you lie in it, what will people think, you look dumb, don't act so stupid, you shoulda this, you shoulda that, see what you did?, you can't wear that, cut your hair that way, say that, think that, be like everyone else, cuz I said so, you do it cuz you're sposta.
Mom's family, on the other hand are emotional, communicative, passionate,...so unlike Dad's side. If you were to get thrown in jail for something, say you were accused of stealing: Dad's family would assume that since you were arrested for it, you were guilty and ya do the crime, ya do the time. They would not give you the benefit of the doubt.You made your bed, guilty or not.
Mom's family would immediately ask if you were o.k., they'd say hang tight, I'll be there to bail you out as soon as I can get there,they'd assume you were innocent, and if not, that you're sorry and regret it and will never do it again.
I always adored my Mom's Dad....He was hot tempered, filled with a fire, commanded respect, difficult and scary sometimes but no one he loved and who loved him ever for a moment doubted they were loved....and always knew they could count on him no matter what. He always came through and put his all into it. Get thrown in jail and call him he would have had no recriminations, no questions, just "I'm on my way" Now, later, mind you, you would surely hear all about it but when the $hit hit the fan, he never ever let ya down. I never got thrown in jail to have to test that theory tho lololol!
I think Mom's Dad was depressed and needed antidepressants....I think both sides of my family would do well to medicate. I only wish it would have come about many moons ago...so that a lot of the rifts and misunderstandings and long standing anger & bitternesses never had to happen.
Woulda.....coulda.....shoulda.....
The past always comes back to haunt....not that it ever really left.
posted by NEBULA @ 5/20/2005 03:32:00 PM
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