Well, some good stuff and some bad stuff. Good stuff being that I am on the shortlist for an award which is pretty cool, that the house is coming together, albeit slowly, and I am about to volunteer at a street pastor-type thingy in my local town. I’m just waiting to be told when I’m working there.
On the down side…had a bit of a row with the parents. I don’t know why, but all this week I have been finding it difficult to wake up, and difficult to get myself out of bed. It isn’t anything physical, but a sort of bone-weariness and confusion that I normally associate with periods of depression. Yet, outside mornings (and frankly, early afternoon too) I am fine, my mind is clear and my mood fairly normal. So I don’t know what is happening. In any case, my parents find it really difficult when I won’t get up in the actual morning. They worry that I am ill, they worry about my missing my medication, and they don’t know whether they should talk to my psychiatrist. Unfortunately that mood in me makes me irritable and stubborn. So, the more they tell me I should get up the more I say I will not, we end up having shouting matches when they say things they don’t mean (which I later use to torture myself when depressed) and I say things I don’t mean either. It is true what they say, I behave childishly – in part because I view them trying to get me up as them treating me as a child. I do tend to think that, at 31, I should be able to decide what time I go to bed and what time I wake up. I find the level of attentiveness of my parents a bit overwhelming at times, although I know it is out of love and I would miss it if it were suddenly withdrawn.
So I argue, and I say horrible things, and they say horrible things and we all have a dreadful time. And it is my fault. Past a certain point I become perverse, and I seek to annoy as much as humanly possible, so that they will get angry and say horrible things and then I can confirm to myself that “they don’t really love me”. (I have written a piece about this very thing on Believer’s Brain) Of course, writing this now, I know perfectly well that my parents love me very much, and I them. I am neither a terrible person who is hated by all, nor are they tyrannical people intent on babying me. But that mood makes me a horrible person, and a bad daughter.
Sounds like I am blaming my behaviour on my moods, and not on myself, but I know it is me and I bear the responsibility for my actions. The fact that I have a mental illness…well you can’t be tempted by something you don’t, however secretly, desire.
I must love my neighbour, and honour my parents, a lot more. What I find hard is that we are so close that we can all push each others’ buttons, and a bad word from them means more to me than from others. I am actually close to them, very close, and dependent on them for my emotional well-being far more than is probably healthy. I am also dependent on them monetarily, and it is because of them that I am able to lead a comfortable life on benefits. I have much to be thankful for. I just need to realise it more, and try to behave to those who I love more like I would behave to a stranger, or even to someone I disliked. I can be polite and fairly friendly to people I don’t like very much – but for some reason I hurt and wound those who I love the most.
I need to get over this. I need to grow up.