Mental Health

I’m sorry, Mom pt2

I moved out of my parents house 1 year ago today. It was one of the scariest things I’ve ever done. I didn’t realize it then, but it was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

I have great parents. They are always there for me when I need them. Sometimes they just aren’t helping though; they’re making it worse. It’s not their fault though. They try, and that means the world to me.

We didn’t always see eye to eye, though. I was a stubborn child. I’d have different opinions than them, and I wouldn’t keep quiet about it. I spent a lot of time grounded, or in my room questioning if something was wrong with me.

I was more emotional than they were. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut like my twin brother? He’d just say okay and let it go. I couldn’t do that.

Anyways, it wasn’t until I developed my anxiety that this got a lot worse. My anxiety shortens my fuse. I have a temper, and when I’m feeling anxious, I can’t control it. I just snap and say whatever I’m feeling. Unfortunately, this doesn’t go over well when you have very sensitive parents.

They take everything personally. That’s just who they are and that’s fine. It just sucks when you feel insane because you say something you thought was totally fine, but it turns out it was “disrespectful”, and then you can’t understand what’s wrong with you.

I spent a lot of time hating myself for being as emotional as I was. I can’t let things go. My parents would go to bed after an argument we’d have, and then I’d never hear about it again. No closure; no resolution. Just thoughts questioning my entire make up as a being.

 

Today, August 1st, 2018, I sit in bed feeling unbelievably depressed. I feel useless and pathetic. The reason? I had to come home early.

I was staying with my parents, (a different city which takes approx. 4 hours to get to by car and ferry). Before I got to my parent’s house, I was on vacation with my boyfriend’s family for about a week. My mental state wasn’t the greatest, but I was excited to get home to see my parents.

I got home and it was great. We celebrated my birthday on July 30th, and everything was awesome. My boyfriend had to go back home to Burnaby a few days before me, so I was going to be at my parents house by myself.

I think, to a normal person, what’s the issue? I couldn’t tell you why there is an issue, but yes, staying at my childhood house without my boyfriend there makes me terribly anxious.

So at around 4pm, July 31, my anxiety is getting terrible and I make the decision to go home with Michael instead of staying with my parents for an additional 2 days.

I was bawling. I knew this would kill my parents. I had only stayed 2 nights so far and they had really been looking forward to spending time with me.

I slowly and carefully try and tell my mom, but can’t contain my emotion and just start bawling. She asks what’s wrong and I explain the decision I’ve made. She goes silent. Starts crying and doing stuff franticly. She’s hurt.

“Are you mad?” I ask her, looking for reassurance, she responds with “what do you expect me to say? Just do what you need to do”.

This one kills. The guilt. I get it mom, you’re hurt. I’m so fucking sorry. I feel so bad, I can’t stand it. But I need to look out for me right now. Sometimes I’m strong enough to deal with my anxiety, but tonight I’m not.

My brother texts me, “wtf, really?”. Yep, you have a pathetic, POS sister who can’t even sleep in her childhood bedroom by herself without having a panic attack. In his defense, he did book the following day off work to hangout with me. Yay, slap on some more guilt.

My dad gets home from work. He doesn’t realize I’m downstairs and can hear him. “So why did Jessica go home?” My mom responds, snappy, “anxiety. She’s still here, though”. It’s like it’s a joke to them. They just don’t get it. It’s real. I know it seems stupid, but it’s valid.

Great. I’ve completely screwed up everything. My parents and brother are all upset, all because I couldn’t just “get  over it”, and do the most natural fucking thing in what should be the most comforting place. Sleep in my childhood bed.

Dinner is awkward,  my parents are upset and barely talking to me. My dad asks what it was this time, and then asks why I’m crying again. I’m sorry dad, I can’t handle this guilt! It’s really hard to upset you guys and feel this way. I explain this to him and he tells me that it’s my own shit I need to accept.

My parents are great people. They only want what’s best for me. Unfortunately sometimes they just don’t understand. Sometimes I need to look out for myself, and that can sting.

I don’t know why I get anxious about the things I get anxious about. I don’t know why I am in a bad mental state right now. I do know though, that the last thing I’m trying to is upset you guys.

I cried nearly the whole ferry ride home, thinking over and over again whether I made the right decision to go home. Should I have stayed and faced my panic? Maybe I’m just making it worse by running away. I replay it over and over in my head. I ask Mike over and over again. My parents are hurt because they had little time with me but Mike’s parents had a whole week.

Why am I like this? I’m sorry mom and dad. I’m sorry that I hurt you. It’s the last thing I meant to do. Things are just hard right now. I need to face some of my own shit. I hope that one day you can understand. I wish I could make everything better.

xo,

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