Part One: Unreasonable Expectations
I woke up this morning and was shaking, I had spent half the night in a state of non sleep worrying about the days appointment and being ridden with guilt at, once again, being the only mother not accompanying their child to the mothers day lunch at school. I'm unsure if the headache that followed was genuine or if I created it to match my physical symptoms to my internal turmoil. Either way it hurt like hell.
My husband stirred, undoubtedly disturbed by my twitching and shaking.
"Are you okay?"
"No"
"Why?"
"I'm scared"
He looked at me briefly through tired eyes and drifted back to sleep.
You bastard! I wanted to scream, Hug me, love me, tell me everything I want to hear.
I didn't say anything. Partly because I could hear the footsteps of my children on the hallway and partly because I knew, as well as he did, that it wouldn't change anything anyway. When I feel like this nothing anyone can say is right, even if it is I don't believe they mean it. I feel like a child being placated so the grown ups can go about dealing with the real issues and real concerns. I am left feeling resentful and angry, distrusting every word.
Perhaps saying noting is the best course of action.
Soon afterwards I heard my phone softly vibrate. At that time of the morning it could only be one of two people and my heart leapt. Someone Cared.....
I jumped out of bed and grabbed my phone heading down the hallway. Sure enough there were two messages. One to make me smile and one showing concern. Like the rush of a drug the wrenching feeling inside was replaced by butterflies.
I sat for a long time with my fingers poised over the keyboard constructing my response. I realised over time though that I want to simply tell them all the things my husband wasn't awake to listen to and to have them make the soothing noises that I have pre planned in the script I carry inside of me. Craving that the lines be acted out precisely to soothe me like a child being sung a lullaby.
I sat watching all of this playing out and ultimately decided that I have no desire to drain another person to abate my fears for the briefest of periods, my husband sleeps exhausted from doing this daily. I clicked away from the message.
Perhaps saying nothing is the best course of action.
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Part 2: I Don't Belong Here
I have been shown tot he waiting room. a light, airy space with inoffensive music playing in the back ground.
Slowly other people trickle in. A stroppy teenager who is arguing with her grandparents over them forgetting something or the other. A girl, in her early twenties; pale and overweight in leggings and fake Uggs with a boyfriend that possessed the vacant look borne of a life lacking any stimulation. I look down at myself. I am waring my office attire, I shall be heading into work straight after my appointment. I have a good job, a career even (although it still pains me to admit that I have a career in the financial services industry) two wonderful children and a husband. It's hard not to judge and I try not to but I begin to question what I'm doing here.
Eventually I am taken for my assessment. It is emotionally draining but I remain composed. As the conversation becomes more fluid the nurse soon realises that talking though my mummy issues isn't going to help. There is a common notion that if we just get to the bottom of what caused us to feel a particular way we can begin to heal.
The problem with this is that I am acutely aware of why I am the way I am. Some families grow up lacking the capability to acknowledge or deal with problems. not so in my case. In my family there was an acute psychological awareness. We may not have used our understanding in the healthiestof ways but by God we knew why we did what we did.
What do you do with a case like me then? As with my social standing in life I am in the middle, that grey area. Not a depressive teen nor a full blown psychotic. The answer? They don't know. The nurse must speak to her manager who isn't back for two weeks before they can decide what treatment options there are available so until then I must just wait. Wait to enter a system that I don't truly believe will benefit me or can offer me what I'm looking for.
Oh, and I was done in enough time that I could have gone to the mothers day lunch at school, damn....
Mia Culpa.
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