I thought I would at least have a few days where I was ok over christmas but sadly not. Christmas was not the day I wanted it to be. I ended up going to the hospital for two hours.
I don’t resent my grandmother for being ill, if anything I am glad that she is in a place thats going to make her better. Well, try to make her better, nothing will change when she gets out of the hospital because she has given up. I know everyone in my family, my mum especially would see that as selfish. But, I get it. And I hate that I could never let anyone in my family know that. Giving up isn’t selfish. Sometimes its all you have, sometimes its the only way to make the pain stop. The pain you inflict on yourself and the pain you think you inflict on others.
The thing is, what is really, really destroying me now. is my mother. She has to be on the autism spectrum. I never really realised how childish, my mother was mentally when I was a child. I mean I have noticed. she comes home from work in tears sometimes because someone spoke to her in a nasty way. it frustrates me. But what has really, really. annoyed me is how she has taken everything out on me and my brother since my grandmother has been sick. “you don’t understand” she keeps saying. Of course I understand! She is my grandmother. Its not like I don’t care. Maybe if my mother wasn’t so wrapped up in her own little world she would see the things going on around her, like for example how her suicidal daughter is on antidepressants and sleeping pills. Or how there is something very wrong with my dad, but I will go back to that later.
Christmas has been well and truly destroyed this year, but not by my grandmother. By my mum, who insists on stopping the world because my grandmother is in hospital. But not just that. She criticises everyone elses decisions about what they do for my grandmother. And I’m so tired of hearing it. For example, my aunt didn’t visit my grandma on christmas day instead she cooked dinner for my granddad, aunt, uncle and her family. But my mum just kept talking about how selfish it was.
I stayed home today whilst my parents went to the hospital, I actually came out of my room for a few hours and sat downstairs and watched TV within minutes of them returning I was already retreating upstairs because I didn’t want to hear it! We are all upset, we are all worried. but she repeats everything 100 times. On christmas day I heard “Didn’t she do well with her dinner” about 67 times. I was getting so angry by the 60th that I just snapped “YES” every time.
The problem is, right now I don’t want to spend time with my family, or anyone else for that matter, I don’t want to go to work, I don’t want to go anywhere. I don’t even really want to be in my room. I guess the sad thing is. I just don’t really want to exist anymore. But there is no point in me telling anyone that right? Steeling the lime light from my sick grandmother, telling my doctor the truth so he finally gives up on me and this time refers me for certain and doesn’t just threaten it. If my lows weren’t so low, It wouldn’t be so bad.
I am struggling to stay in my bedroom, I have my windows wide open and I am too lazy to close them, so I am freezing. but I would rather have my fingers numbed from coldness then spend another damn minute in that front room in silence watching songs of praise whilst my dad and brother sit with their headphones on. sociability is not a quality needed to live in my house.
There is nothing to elaborate on about christmas, I got some fantastic presents. I got things I really wanted. But, christmas isn’t about presents. This year it was about making me feel better, it was supposed to be about making me ok. I wanted to be ok by now. I didn’t want to be in this place. in two months time, I will be on holiday from work. it will be a big anniversary for me. If things have not changed by that point. I am not so sure I can be responsible for my actions. Maybe a referral from my doctor is for the best. I clearly can’t look after myself anymore. I mean, I have lost count of the amount of times my belly button has been infected since august, or that I have something wrong with my kidneys because I don’t drink really anything most days.
So back to my dad, I’m starting to worry about him. He wasn’t right on christmas day. He got up at 5am and claimed he couldn’t get back to sleep. and now he is complaining about pains in his ribs. I am honestly terrified he has lung cancer and is going to die. It sounds stupid and irrational. But I can’t stop thinking about it. And that is another reason I have retreated to my bedroom. He’s drinking a bottle of wine again, my mum’s probably crying and or repeating the same things over and over about my grandma and I can’t take it. My brain is just so fragile at the moment. I really needed a good christmas. But I’m still hurtling towards the earths core at an alarming speed. I wanted to correct my trajectory with a nice happy christmas. But as usual. No. People keep telling me that I am in charge of my own happiness. What a stupid thing to say. If you believe you are in charge of your own happiness you are so very, very wrong. By this statement I ruined my own christmas by chosing to be upset by the fact my grandmother was in hospital. By this statement, it is wrong of me to worry about anything because worrying causes me to be unhappy and all of this is my fault, as usual. I am making myself sad because I chose to not believe that I am the master of my own happiness.
I have never once asked anyone to make me happy, I have never expected anyone to make me happy. But, I don’t believe that I solely am in charge of my own happiness, for if I was I would have walked away from the majority of people in my life a long time ago. But I know that to an extent I play a part in those around me’s happiness. So no. I am not in charge of my own happiness. I can’t control other people’s input. In charge isn’t the right way to see it, I can steer my happiness in certain directions, I can avoid people, places and situations. But I could never, ever be the sole trusty of my own happiness.
The Elephant in the Room