I’m slowly losing it. I feel isolated, worthless, sad and confused. Since I am surrounded, now more than ever, by people that love me, it would seem to be out of place. Logically I know that. And I’m so tired of this train of thought I could throw up.
The mind is such an odd thing. I can tell my mind what it should be doing and tell my body how I should be feeling and it makes no difference. No difference at all.
I feel like no one cares about me and then I see my mom’s number come up on my cell phone three times in five hours but I don’t answer. I burst into tears just looking at her name on the display and I don’t want to scare her with my completely random weeping so I wait a few hours until I can manage a Hello and a How are you and mostly the Things are fine without tears. And then my son calls, asking me to make some adjustments to his suit. It would be so easy to ask him to come over and spend some time with me as I measure and sew. But, I don’t. I cry quietly to myself and tell him it’s fine to just drop the suit off in the morning on the way to school. Because by this time, after the better part of two days, I’m in no condition to see any of my kids, with my red eyes and puffy face and never-ending tears, especially the child that needs stability more than the others. If there is one thing I’m not exuding, it’s stability.
I look around the house and remark to myself how little I’ve accomplished in the past two days. Joe likes to say it’s because I’m being more of a mom, running more errands with them, giving them rides here and there and generally being more available, while wearing dark sunglasses. But in my heart I know that the reason the office is still entirely in boxes and the closet upstairs has shelves completely empty after a week is because I can’t manage to do much more than look around me and cry.
This week, the one thing I will do, is see the doctor about my thyroid dose. If that isn’t the issue, I may seriously need a trip to Hawaii or Australia. However, I hear that no matter where you go, there you are. So that wouldn’t solve anything.
xo.
Moving is right up there with death and divorce for things that cause the highest amounts of stress. I hope this is a reaction to that. Hang in there.
Leah, moving is so dang overwhelming. Each and every piece of your worldly possessions, all the “stuff” of your life just sits around in huge mounds screaming at you to DO SOMETHING NOW with it. And if you start with one box, the others scream twice as loud. There is not a shred of normalcy for a minimum of 2 weeks, and that’s for energetic type-As who jump out of bed at the crack of dawn, eager to tackle 20 more boxes. It takes most of us a lot longer. I’ve lived in my house 10 years, and I still haven’t hung up some of my pictures. However, I eventually did find the canopener.
Added to the “stuff” is the unfamiliarity of your new area. You don’t know the streets as well, or where the best stores are, or where friendly people might be living around you, or all kinds of details that just take time. That can crank up the isolation factor, big time.
If there are physical issues on top of everything, that would really mess someone up royal.
Things will get better. In time. I wish I could come help yo u unpack. I love you, Lee.
get thee to the doctor. hopefully, a quick adjustment in your thyroid medicine will make you feel better. hang in there- hugs.
Hope you feel better soon.
*hugs*
When you write entries like this I’m awestruck at how aptly you describe these episodes because I’ve been there and I just feel what you feel while I read your words. I send you hugs even knowing it doesn’t really help. And I echo the sentiments of others that moving is just trying – even with no other issues added to the formula.
Yes, yes, yes. I concur with all the loving remarks above.
Dollin, this is striking to me – “Since I am surrounded, now more than ever, by people that love me, it would seem to be out of place.”
I understand the paradox of this. But, consider that you may not be able to express or even feel the pain unless you were in a safe place with loving people. That’s what I try to remember when I go down to the depths of my despair. Otherwise, I shut down and go into turtle protective mode. I’m under the shell for days, weeks and sometimes months.
But, when I’m around George, the kids, safe siblings (most of my 5 other sibs are sadly toxic), I subconsciously give myself permission to feel sad and express the grief and despair openly. There’s willingness to send out signals, whether subtle or loud and wailing.
However, avoiding your children is perfectly understandable. You kicked into a kind of protection mode for them, that you must be strong and give them the best side of you. There is no fault in that and I hope you don’t give yourself a tough time about it.
Anyway, anyway, anyway…know that there’s a legion of folks, both in your immediate surroundings and through the miracle of the internet, who love and support you, Leah. I speak for many when I tell you to keep talking and telling. We’re here to bear witness to your suffering. We’re here to assist you as needed.
With love and admiration,
Grace
Leah, keep hanging on lady :). The fact that you can reach out and express yourself is a very good sign. You may be under water, but you are close to the surface. Don’t underestimate how awful moving is – your environment and routines are in chaos and that might have taken its toll on a fragile thyroid situation. Keep talking to us. We’re listening :). You’re going to get out of this funk.
I have a history of depression and anxiety issues and nothing brings them out full force like moving. The last time I moved was the Spring of 05′ and I am still dealing with a backlash of depression from it. Part of that may be because I don’t take care of my mental illness like I should by avoiding doctors and medication and admitting that I am not fine.
I really admire you and the way that you stay in tune with your thoughts and emotions. I admire that you are able to say when you’re not fine. Good luck with your appointment and I hope that it is thyroid related.
Good luck, Leah! If you need us, we’re here. 🙂 Christine’s right. If you keep talking we’ll keep listening.
It amazes/terrifies me how willful my mind is. There’s a definite split at times between emotional self and rational self. Since I can’t “conquer” it, I’m looking to live with it. I’m reading some stuff about Buddhism and mindfulness and meditation. I’m reading _Breath by Breath: The Liberating Practice of Insight Meditation_ by Larry Rosenberg–and it’s definitely helping.
Struggling with emotional health is the hidden challenge of so many of us. I recently decided to spring-clean my entire life – took everything out of my bedroom and guest room sorted out all the extras and tried to put it all back. I panicked; I stalled; I worked around piles for weeks because it was spiritually overwhelming. Fear not; you are not alone; you are not judged.
Moving is like divorce; you are starting over and nothing will ever be the same again. Let yourself mourn what was lost before you allow yourself to celebrate what is gained.
just breathe.
lots of hugs coming your way 00000000000000000000000
00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
I hope you feel better soon.
i’m so sorry you’re feeling so dang overwhelmed. i know the feeling in my own way, or at least i can relate. i have moved so many times in my life that it’s old hat to me now….but that doesn’t make me feel any better about the fact that i’m getting ready to up and move again. this time is different. this time is devastatingly life changing. i’m moving with my 2 kids – back to georgia – without their dad. we’re divorcing. they do not yet know this. they are 5 and 3 years old. you are one of the strongest, coolest, neatest, wisest, funniest ladies in the blogosphere and i bet you will come through this just peachy, eventually. until then, just keep your head up but don’t be afraid to cry if you need to. it is ok, you know, to cry! this too shall pass.
I’m sorry, Leah. You are an amazing person and you certainly deserve to feel better.
love yourself the way that you love other people 🙂
Sydney,
You beautiful Goddess. I miss you sooooo much and everyday I am blessed with the painting that you made me and the memories of you.
Love, Annie
Oh dude, an email is about to come your way. It’s like one in the same over here.
I have no words to say that seem helpful. However, I feel a lot of things and I love you tremendously. Tremendously. God bless you, Lee. If you ever need someone to just talk to . . . well, you probably won’t call me. 🙂 But you could! If you wanted. Happy thoughts. . .