My Father


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House

Well, we were in contract.  Papers were to be signed on the 29th.  Keys were to be handed over.  Then the bank that was selling, since it was a foreclosure, made a rather large change to the deal, and we said “hell no” and now there is no house.

There was a significant amount of panic.  Along the lines of “Oh shit, we have to be out of here the day after Sammy turns 1.  That’s in less than 3 months, where the hell are we going to live?”

Then Pat called the rental office and spoke to the girl we’ve been working with since day 1 before we even moved in.  They aren’t giving us the boot on August 31st, like we had previously been told.  Granted, with the household head count they aren’t encouraging us to spend forever here.  But they know our situation and we as tenants have given them every reason to be patient with us.

We aren’t signing a year lease.  We are going to live here one month at a time.  We are also looking for another house.  Our house.  Our house we will die in, and pass to our children.  I will be buried in the backyard.  Well, I’ll be planted in the backyard.  As a tree.  My grand kids can plan an entire garden around me.

Pat and I are shopping mortgages.  There is a plan for the 10% down payment.  This will work.  We just have to see what we are pre-approved for, find the house, make our offer, and go from there.

I think I’m actually less stressed right now not having a clue where we will be living a year from now, than I was while in contract with that house.  It had a lot of good in it.  But it was also really broken.  So much energy was going into fixing it.  And it would have been a good house.  It would have been worth it.  But for once I have a weight off my shoulders.  Instead of continuing to try and fix a really broken house, we are admitting defeat and going with plan D.  Or whatever the hell letter we are on.

 

Luke

Luke had his first appointment with his psychiatrist Tuesday.  This was after my solo meeting with her a few weeks back.  She does agree we are probably looking at ADHD.  The full diagnosis will unfold with time and in this case, medication attempts.  (One of the best ways to confirm a diagnosis of ADHD is to medicate it and see what happens.)

He has started a medication.  I’m not going to discuss what.  Nothing hard-core since he is only 4, but I don’t really feel like discussing what medication I agreed to put my 4-year-old on.  Kids on meds is too heated of a topic.  I did what was right for my kid.  Just as I’ve known meds aren’t right for his older brother.

I think the bottom line of the kids and meds discussion needs to be that it’s a decision made on a kid-by-kid basis with risks and benefits taken into account.  I don’t agree with throwing a pill at the first side of a problem.  But I don’t agree with letting a kid and family suffer because of a refusal to medicate.  And we were all of us, Lucas included, suffering.

Anyway.  As we all know, this is a hell of a process.  Trying something.  Messing with dosage.  Trying something new.  We are on the very first step of the process.  I’ll let you know how it goes.

I’m also in the throws of the preschool process.  Most the people I’ve spoken to previously, said nothing could be done until June.  It’s June.  One application has been filled out.  The rest are incoming.  Oy the preschool process.

 

Thomas

Thomas is at an in between.  With no real diagnosis in his immediate future, we are just riding the therapy wave.  I’m really curious to see how TK’s behavior morphs as Luke’s treatment sets in.  Luke is such a catalyst to us all, sometimes it’s really hard to know what’s our own personal mental health issue and what’s Luke bleeding over.

Which isn’t to say that on his own, Thomas is a perfect angle.  But without Lucas starting something every 50 seconds, Thomas might well even out some.  And it will be much easier to determine what exactly is Thomas, and then we can therapy and treat that.  It isn’t fair to Thomas, to have his therapy be surviving Luke 101.

 

Dad

Has pushed back his move date about 12 times now.  I have a theory that in 50 years if they go to tear this place down, they’ll find him crouching in a corner muttering something about storms, finances, banks, and the stock market.  Just a theory but a solid one I do think.  I don’t really want to talk about it much beyond that.

Or maybe I do.

I don’t like that we are kicking him out.  I don’t like that he is going to be homeless once he leaves.  But I don’t like the position he puts me in every damn day.  I don’t like having to make the decision to do right by my kids or my father and it can never seem to be both.  It took me 4 years to realize that in finally choosing to do right by my kids, I’m not in fact a bad person.  I have done everything I could for my father.  More than I should have had to.  I simply can’t do anything more.

 

Pat

Pat and I are ok.  I think we’ll be better once the above stresses level out some.  But I don’t wake up fearing that, that will be the day he walks out.  I know he loves me.  I know we’re a team.  And he seems to know this past week was totally fueled by PMS.  Hopefully he’s grateful that PMS means we aren’t bringing another baby into this equation.

I feel even as we bicker and I go to bed early some nights because I’m fed up with the day, that we are ok.  I feel that our relationship is solid enough that we can hold hands and hunker down together through life, no matter what it tosses our way.

I also really appreciate all that he does for us and knowing that I have such a strong player on my team.

 

Sammy

Sammy is Sammy.  She is amazing.  Beautiful.  Spunky.  Full of personality and love.  She is learning to pull herself up onto her feet but unsure what to do once up.  She has 2 teeth in.  She is insulted when her meal comes from a jar and wants part of what everyone else is eating.

I wouldn’t change a thing about her.  Though I am sad to see her baby days flying by.  As excited as I am to see who she grows into, I’m not in a huge rush.  This is my last baby, and I’m enjoying every minute of her first few years.  Then she’ll turn 3 and she is so her daddy’s problem.

I jest.  Maybe.  I’ll let you know when she’s 3.

 

Work

I don’t know if I’m full-time.  I applied and have hit the interview phase, but my boss has been on vacation all this week.  I imagine interviews will start next week.  I know of at least one other person who is for sure applying.  She hopes to have the spot filled by July.  So I imagine I’ll know by July.

I’m in the most weirdly laid back place regarding this. I don’t feel that I have to OMG get this promotion or my family won’t survive.  Yeah, it would be nice, but the most basic needs are being met.  I’m mostly excited that this will let me advance my career and have those extra 15 hours a week out of the house.  The extra money is just gravy.

Pat, I’m sure, would argue it to be very important gravy.  And yeah ok it is.  But I find this laid back attitude to be helpful.  It allows me to not stress over this.  I feel I have enough to stress about.  (See above)  So one less thing, is really nice.  Promotion or no promotion work is going great and it’s really the only thing in my life not stressing me out.

 

Me

I’m surviving.  Some nights I survive by crashing when the baby does so that I can just be done with the day.  I’m maybe a touch depressed.  But I’m so stressed by all the plates I have in the air, it’s hard to feel I’m not justified in being depressed.  I’m not choosing to medicate it.  Not yet anyway.  I’m not suicidal and usually not homicidal.  I’m functioning.  I can get up and go to work without crying over it.  I don’t even cry when it’s time to go home.

And as I see most everyone around me overwhelmed with stress right now, I think that I’m really just 1 in the crowd.  Something’s in the air.  So if I’m patient and just keep doing what I have to do to get through this.  I’ll be ok.

I have 4 folders in front of me which hold 4 of the plates in the air.

  • 1 is the house folder.  While Pat is doing the majority of the mortgage shopping, I’m talking to my company’s mortgage department for the 2 of us since I am the employee.
  • 1 is the Lucas folder where I’m tracking his diagnostic developments and his medication process.  I’m also tracking the process of getting him in preschool this fall.  This is a thick folder
  • The Thomas folder is sitting untouched recently.  As we ride the wave, there isn’t much to add at the moment
  • The final is my personal folder where I’m tracking things I need to track, mostly for my career as mommy.  This folder is new.  I’m not sure what all will end up there.

I guess with my OCD approach I’m allowing myself to approach this systematically so that I’m less likely to forget some detail or get overwhelmed by all that there is.  One folder at a time.

My therapy is drawing to an end.  I haven’t been cut loose yet.  We are mostly just looking to see where the next few weeks land me.  There isn’t anything scheduled but I know I can pick up the phone and make an appointment anytime.  And I think that’s exactly where I need to be therapy wise.  Unless my therapist can secure me a mortgage offer or find me a house, there isn’t really much therapy can take care of.  These aren’t mental issues I’m working through.  And all things considered I’m not doing too horrible of a job working through the life issues.  And therapy these days has just become rehashing the same topics.  Not solving, just updating.

I am looking to have Schizotypal added to my chart.  Not because it’s something I need to have treated now, but this way should it develop into something more in the future, the history of where it began is on record.

 

I suppose that is everything.  I suppose that is enough.

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At this time, we are NOT stopping my appointments with my therapist and my psychiatrist.  We just took me of meds, life is a changing… ending those appointments would be dumb.  But they are being scaled back.  My meds appointments are in off-meds maintenance mode, I see her every other month.  Therapy is headed that way as well.

And someday, if after I don’t know how long, I continue to be in remission or even better they will be scaled back more.  And then some day after that, they will stop.  Because if I’m no longer showing signs of BPD, I’m no longer a danger to myself, I’m no longer on meds that need a script and maintenance visits, there will come a time where those appointments will just simply no longer be needed.

When?  I don’t know.  But that day is coming.

And hopefully it will be followed by a life of me never needing there services again.  But I can’t guarantee that.  No one can.  So I have to have a plan in place for should the need arrive and I need help fast.  Will there be a waiting list?  Depends on how much time has passed and how full their schedules are.  Also, I imagine, how bad of shape I’m in.  So I need to have the option of going to a general physician, sitting down and going, “Hey I know you aren’t equipped to treat BPD, but let’s start with the depression until I can get into someone who can take care of the rest.”

I also have to keep in the back of my mind that I am on the Schizophrenic spectrum.  I’m way down low at Schizotypal, but it can be progressive.  I in fact found out recently that my father has known about being Schizophrenic for a decade, whereas I could only assume he was.  I won’t start down THAT bitter path, but I do have to face facts that however large or small the chances, I may have worse than depression caused by a miserable pregnancy and sciatica in my future.

I need a medical team I can rely on and can only hope I don’t ever need to.  Not like I have needed to in the past.

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Thank you for not washing the towels yesterday despite our agreement, based on you living here rent and utility payment free (for nearing 5 years) and me doing laundry for 5 people. Because when the toilet overflowed at 1:30AM and I sprinted up a flight of stairs to find the only clean towels were your fancy ones…

 …

Actually no. I then ran down 2 flights of stairs to the basement,  to pull dirty, but older towels back up to the first floor bathroom where the floor was already covered with toilet water. Because unlike you, I’ve LEARNED from my father.

Some *ahem* learn to grow up to be like their father.  I have learned to be the opposite.

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First off, and it must be said… I’d kill for a brownie. A 9x9in brownie.

Hit man for hire, will work for chocolate.

I got out of bed this morning, hopped on my menstrual cycle and I’m ready to run your ass over. Anyone’s ass really.

I stole that from Jeff Dunham.

It’s 7:00 and my 6yo just requested to go to bed. I must be bitchy.

I was blind-sided by this one. Should have seen it coming what with me eating everything in sight yesterday.

Alright, moving off my period.

Hmmmm

My youngest keeps screaming that blood curdling scream he is so good at. Side effect of the big one being up their too. They need separate rooms but not as long as dad is living with us.

Speaking of my dad…

How to go about this.

He has a really good idea involving eBay. He’s invented some coding letting something be possible on eBay that’s never been possible before. Making viewing for sale items more interesting. I dunno. I don’t pay attention. But he’s planning to sell the coding and might make some decent profit. If he does, YAY! He is giving himself until October. If something big doesn’t change or happen in his life by then he’s decided he’s moving out. With no where to go and no money to get there. I won’t really let that happen. I just really want this eBay thing to work. Then maybe we can afford to upgrade to a bigger apartment with dad chipping in on the rent or something to make it happen.

Pat and I want more kids. We need at least one more bedroom for that to happen. Luke and Thomas as the oldest will probably always share a room, but they’ll be fine. Here in a year or two we are getting them bunk beds.

Anyway, more about the little.

He’s turning into a stripper.

No really. In the span of 24 hours he figured out how to remove clothing including snaps.

I’m not amused.

Pat just said that phrase to Thomas, but it works where it is in this ramble.

Ok, I’m a little amused.

In the 5 minutes Pat had his back turned yesterday Luke removed a onesie and a diaper. Pat turned back around in time to be handed both.

That was Luke’s first time as a stripper. By the time I got home Pat was calling it a good moment because Luke was willing to keep his diaper on.

Hmmmm

I’m getting rat advice from my cousins David and Kim. They are the family rat experts.

I actually really wish they lived closer. Or more accurately that I lived closer to them. I’d love to live in the state of Washington. They live in BC Canada, which is where I really want to live.

This whole post has one point. To make me feel better about not being able to post about work. I really want to post about work and I can’t.

I’m just going to shut my mouth now.

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I keep dreaming that I’m pregnant. It’s really frustrating. One part of me is wanting that 3rd baby, the rest of me knows the timing is not yet right. I’d have to go off all my meds, and I’m not ready for that. I told Pat that I would refuse the 3rd until we had a mini van. If we can’t afford that, we can’t afford a 3rd baby.

I had my first therapy session today. Not my first ever in my life, but first in this new series. I wasn’t able to see my old therapist so I have a new one now. But she teaches the DBT I go to, so I know her and she knows me and BPD really well. The first session was basic going over my file and my history. My next one will be going over my treatment plan and more of my history. I’ll be seeing her weekly to start. I find some comfort in that. Like I’ll be better behaved if I know I have someone to report to weekly.

DBT starts in September. I’m really excited. I miss the homework assignments with it.

My new therapist gives me homework . I’m happy about it. This week I’m suppose to analyze my rages and anger. We are looking for patterns so that I can better manage it in the future.

I got into a fight with my father. Well Pat and I did. He had a cow when we showed up home with 4 more rats after he spent 91$ on meat for the house hold. We finally got him to realize we spent 20$ or so on rats and Thomas got 20$ from his grandmother, Pat’s mom, for his birthday. And dad does grocery shopping every week, we just suggested meat because it was something we didn’t have much of. Dad took it to mean financial emergency when in reality we were just guiding his inevitable grocery purchase. Anyway that’s how it started and it led to all sorts of dirty laundry being hauled out. Dad actually yelled which is scary because I think that’s only the second time I’ve seen him yell. Normally he just passive aggressively sulks.

Things are better now. A half hour after the fight dad came down and we talked calmly. He’s actually going to consider disability even. It’ll take us a year to get him to that point, but this is a huge start to it.

I myself am looking to file. Usually you have to be unemployed but there are loop holes for those who are employed but there ability to do their job is compromised because of their disability. It isn’t that I don’t want to work. I’m just not able to handle the 30-40 hours a week required of me. I’d do better at like 20. Just enough to get out of the house some.

It’s taking tremendous amounts of energy every day to function as well as I do. And I function just enough to get the bare minimum of life done. I’m on the verge of losing my job over it, though I’m pulling through and doing better there. I love my job too much to lose it so fear helps my functioning. I also fear I’m going to lose my family over it. But so far I haven’t.

I need to get back to bed so I’m going to end this ramble.

Sleep well, everyone.

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I live in a house hold of 3 adults. I’m the only one that gets up and goes to work each day. We are all three disabled. Equally disabled, I don’t know. But all 3 disabled. I resent being the only one that works. That’s my problem, I deal with it to the best of my ability. Pat at least gets disability to help out with the burden of keeping this household afloat. My father won’t even do that much.

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My father is no longer seeing his therapist. They lost their funding so they can no longer see patients for “free”. Which means the battle to get him on meds is over before it had a chance to fully begin.

Meanwhile he refuses to get on disability. It would give him a monthly food allowance as well as income and would provide health care.

I just feel so lost.

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