Things have been copasetic for the last week or two, notwithstanding a few ugly nights, mostly taken care of now by a bedtime dose of clonazepam.  I hate the stuff, but what can you do.

Then last night I stopped by my parents’ house to deliver something or other, and my mother was in one of her bad moods.  It had something to do with something I had or had not done; I don’t have the time or patience to keep track anymore.  Besides, it isn’t my business.

She was watching one of her interminable movies.  She keeps the movie channel going as soon as “Wheel of Fortune” goes off, and often stays on the couch watching movie after movie until midnight.

The movie she had on last night caught my eye, because someone was having a baby and screaming bloody murder.  Of course, being a doctor, that would be an eye- and ear-catcher for me; so I stayed on to watch a bit.  Turned out to be a baby girl: mazal tov.  But the mother said: “I’ve hated this baby since she was in my womb.”  Blood-chiller.  I watched the rest of the movie.  It was all about how this baby girl was unwelcome, and the next one, a boy, was the apple of the mother’s eye.  The girl was shut out of everything.  Understandably, she grew up bitter and depressed, but she made herself a success in her profession and at least derived comfort from that.

The discomfort in the parental living room was thick as molasses in the winter.  My mother stayed in her movie-induced trance, but I could feel her frozen to the couch, her breathing shallow.  Through the darkened room I perceived the pallor of her face.

I myself was sweating, heart racing, in the throes of a full-throttle panic attack.  But I couldn’t stop watching the movie: it was my life laid out before me, except that I had no brother.  The brother in my life was my older boy cousin, who could do no wrong.  Like the girl in the movie, I love him dearly and do not fault him for his place of honor, and he himself has no idea that he is king in my mother’s eyes.

I finally couldn’t stand it anymore and headed out to my own digs down the hill.  I took my pills and went to bed.

This morning for some reason it occurred to me that I probably should read the judge’s disposition on my recent social security disability hearing.  In the eight page document, I learned that I have had PTSD since I was a child, that I have struggled unsuccessfully with major depression, bipolar disorder, ADHD, dysthymic disorder, OCD, and a few other items that I have forgotten since this morning.  All of these were backed up by citations from the records of my various doctors.  G-d in heaven, what a soup.

The disposition goes on to describe how I managed to struggle through until April 4, 2000, when I fell off the balance beam and decompensated, and have remained in a more or less permanent state of mental disability ever since.  There is no hope for my ever returning to any kind of work because of the unpredictable nature of my disease.  In addition, my reclusive lifestyle precludes my forming any meaningful social bonds, so it is improbable that I would be able to integrate into any work environment.

Of course I knew all this; how could I not.  But seeing it laid out that way by a federal judge is a dash of cold water in the face.

I worked really really hard to overcome my demons during my life.  Now it seems I have another round of demons to take on: the ones that whisper in my head, “You’re no good.  You’re useless.  You’re no good to anybody.  You’re a burden to your family, and society.  You take up money that could be used for better causes,” etc. etc.

I’m making dinner, and I’m going to force myself to fucking eat it.  Then I’m taking my drug cocktail, with an extra Seroquel (at the suggestion of my doctor) and I am going to bed.  If I need to, I will sleep all day tomorrow too.  Then I will get up and go on with life, because that is all that remains to me of health and dignity.

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  1. This sucks, it really does. I have 4 boys and cannot deny that I would have liked to have had a girl. For the last two pregnancies I had ultra sounds to find out the sex. If there was to be any disappointment, I didn’t want it to be at their birth. There was none anyway. I have always thought it was natural for a mother to “love what she gets”…and I think this is true for normal mothers. I believe your mother must have been ill in some way to have treated you like this. It’s unfair. Jen xx

    • Thanks. You’re right, she’s not normal. She’s a seething angry narcissistic needy person who turned her rages (and still tries to, and still gets away with it if she catches me by surprise) on a helpless child (me). I try to wish her well, but it doesn’t come out right.

      Lucky four children, to have a mommy who loves them! Lucky mommy, to have four children to love!

      I wish you all good health, safety, enough to eat, good shelter, and above all, lots of love.

  2. Shlomo Dror

     /  December 18, 2012

    Wishing you immediate comfort and repose, Liebe.

  3. My mother is a ‘splitter’ now I’m in her good books,now it’s my brother. I put it all down to, to…her f2!*,.*d up childhood. Thank you to her own Mother who was insensitive enough to die in child birth having her, and Stalin,of course. She got to grow up in one of his labour camps while the Nazis got most of the rest of the family…..and so it goes.

  4. I really like your blog.. very nice colors & theme.
    Did you create this website yourself or did you hire someone to
    do it for you? Plz respond as I’m looking to create my own blog and would like to know where u got this from. kudos

    • Hmmm, this comment looks kinda spammy but I checked your Blogspot site out and looks legit….Theme is Comet, custom header, custom background from photomicrographs of neurons taken by my son. Thought that was fitting, based on the topic of my blog. Few other customizations here and there, but pretty simple compared to many WP bloggers. Good luck with yours and I hope you’re not spam.

  5. I think it’s important to remember that the legal language is designed to prevent the department from finding a reason to deny you the disability payment. It makes your illness sound much darker than it is.


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