Ever since the estrangement from my three adult children began six months ago, it’s been difficult to even get out of bed.
So I thought I’d make a list of things I actually accomplished today. Definitely not an earth-shattering day of events, but at least most of it involved being upright and out from under my bed covers (and out of my pajamas).
Today, I ….
- got dressed (although I never did get around to putting on make-up. I hope I remembered to brush my hair before I left the house!)
- did the dishes
- fed the cats and fish and rabbits
- watered the plants
- talked to a couple of my neighbors about nothing important
- wandered the aisles at my local store looking for nothing in particular
- picked up prescriptions at the pharmacy
- picked up my mail (found more prescriptions there, too)
- ate three semi-healthy meals
- worked for several hours on homework (I’d been procrastinating)
- watched a few back episodes of shows I’d gotten behind on
- diddled around on Facebook
- … and cried … in the car
- … and cried … in my house
- … and cried … while chatting with a friend online
Once the crying starts, it feels as if it will never stop. But usually it does stop.
Sometimes it stops simply from sheer exhaustion.
Sometimes it stops because I’m all cried out and the tears have done their cleansing work.
Sometimes it stops because I drink myself into a stupor (yes, I unfortunately sometimes choose to self-medicate).
Sometimes it stops because I’m distracted by something else.
The one time the crying didn’t stop (at the end of this past December just after the holidays), I ended up in the hospital on Suicide Watch for six days. Because of that horrible awful no good very bad day, I always feel a twinge of fear that the crying won’t stop. I never want to feel like I did that day when I admitted myself to a psych ward so that others could protect me from myself.
Today’s crying ended after I spent several minutes quietly watching the baby fish who live in my aquarium on a low shelf above my kitchen sink. I knelt down on the floor, rested my head on the counter, and just watched the tiny living beings swim around. At first the tears were so heavy, I could barely see the fish. But soon I was smiling at the little lives in front of me. I realized my eyes were dry and my sobbing gone.
So today was eventful and uneventful. Happy and sad. Full of meds and fish, people and writing.
But the most important things today? I got out of bed, kept busy, survived a major crying jag, and will head to bed in a few minutes.
Yes, I have made it through another day.
One day at a time.
That’s the only way I’ll survive this estrangement.
Just take it one eventful/uneventful, happy/sad day at a time.
~The Estranged Mom