I woke very early this morning–somewhere around 3:15 a.m. No particular reason; just awoke. I read a bit in Deserts and Mountains, took a shower, wrote in my morning pages book (have been neglecting writing my book, however). I felt a bit tired earlier in the day–it’s 11 a.m. now–but feel like I’m drifting a bit. I’ve been reading on and off in a couple of books. I posted some quotes in my other blog. I opened packages. I love my dog. I need to get ready to go to Juma’ in a bit. I need to get out.
I tried to call the girls earlier and see if maybe they wanted to do something with me tonight for New Year’s Eve–go to a movie or watch a movie at home, or play a game or something. But I got no answer at their house.
In an attempt to make amends for my harsh email of last Saturday, I sent Sabrina an email about going to our therapy session with John on Tuesday. I haven’t heard from her in over a week, by email, text, phone–nothing. How do I feel about that? Sad. Sad, but not despairing. I am tired of trying and trying to meet her more than half-way and getting no where. I wish I knew what I did to deserve this treatment. Other people (even my doctors) can’t believe she is like this. Nothing surprises me from her anymore, I don’t feel like I have a daughter anymore; I am just a person alone with myself. In a way, it’s freeing. I don’t have to try anymore. But it is sad. It’s like a death; like I’ve lost my daughter at sea. But I do care, for all my saying that I don’t care anymore. I do feel rejected and abandoned, unloved by the person I most love.
There doesn’t seem to be anything that I can do. I feel so helpless about this whole situation. Would it help if i were a more enlightened individual? Will my depression EVER get better? Will it EVER go away, even a little bit? I don’t think so, as much as I try to focus on other things. Tears well up in my eyes, and I mourn for my daughter for whom I held so much promise and hope. Will my granddaughters turn on me the same way? I don’t see how they can avoid it, seeing their mother and the way she acts (or doesn’t act) toward me.
As I write, suicidal thought come to me unbidden. I feel I am not worthy of living if I can’t even manage to be a mother of an adult child. The rejection is so painful as to be unbearable. I keep trying to carry on a normal life, emailing friends, reading, writing, but when I write and think, that is when things become very, very dark indeed.
I have started to read a book on happiness by the Dalai Lama. And my sister is correct; happiness must come from within. But outside circumstances influence the state of happiness. How can I be happy if I am an outcast from my own family.
For the second time in a week, I feel as though I am compelled to write a suicide note. I don’t want to go out, to see anyone. I want only to go to sleep and not wake up. The only thing that keeps me from acting on my thought is my little dog. He is the only thing I care about at the moment. What would happen to him? Clint hates dogs; Ernie might be mistreated. I could give him to Theresa, but then she would know something is wrong, and he would be so confused. I would want to take him to the Otherworld with me so he would be with me and not scared.
I seem to be writing nonsense. I can’t see Dr. S until Monday. Three more days of this torture. Why? WHY? WHY is she doing this to me? What did I do to deserve this? This is worse even than August. At least I understood her anger with me then. I understand absolutely nothing now.