My name is…

by statia on February 10, 2012

I’ve been getting up at ungodly hours all week.  Partly, because the Meester was away this week, actually on a work trip, in the Bay area.  Having not been back for years, he was able to go visit some of our old haunts, old friends.  I was a bit jealous, not only because of the milder weather, seasonal depression being a crippling bitch, but I haven’t been back since we’ve left.  I miss it, for all my bitching about living there and hating it.  Long story long, him being away, was causing the Children to wake up at inappropriate hours all week, and also, because, I was in the outpatient program.  It was like the old days, where I would get up and go to work.

And dutifully, I’d get up, and try to make life run smoothly.   Get a shower, while my mother gave the kids breakfast.  Put away the previous day’s laundry, picking out outfits, and gathering the load of laundry to be done.  Dry hair, make lunches, warm up the cars. Take my vitamins.  Kiss my kids goodbye and head off to a full day of therapy.

Something tells me going to work all day would be a lot easier.

Ready and willing, I sit down.  No big deal, I did this all day at the hospital.  And I found comfort in it.  This group therapy thing. But the hospital was different.  I was in a different place then.  I was still numb.  I did my part to get out of the hospital.  I made the effort.  I talked.

I talked, but I didn’t listen.  I wasn’t well liked in the hospital by some of the other patients.  I didn’t care, because I was just there to get home and see my kids.

It makes a big difference.  I’ve had time to come from that bad place.

Talking about your problems is exhausting.  Listening to other people’s problems is twice that.  I can’t even explain the intensity, and I don’t know if you can fully appreciate it (and it is an appreciation, to have someone be willing to open up to you), unless you’re there.  The different walks of life.  The rawness of the stories that people tell.  The perspective that people give.

When I leave, I’ll have to put forth practices in my life.  I’ll always be a work in progress.   But these people that have become like this temporary family, is something I will never forget.  The strength and resilience of the human mind is an amazing thing.


karen February 11, 2012 at 9:06 pm

One minute at a time. Deep breath.

Jillian February 13, 2012 at 9:05 am

I just dropped by and clearly I have missed a lot.

I’m glad you’re getting help. I know the work is very hard, good on you for pushing it forward.

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