The Cerebral Mum

I think I am too drained to write. So I’m just starting. I don’t know what will come out. This might be it.

Unsurprisingly, I have become weepy since starting on this course. Weepy of the stupidest things. Yesterday Big Sis was going down the street and I asked her to pick something up for me. I gave her my money and she said, “Fuck, it’s all silver”. So I cried. Today my mobile phone rang and I didn’t want to answer it and I cried. I haven’t checked my voicemail for 2 weeks. I should check my voicemail. I hate voicemail. I think I’ll delete voicemail. But that would involve me using the phone.

I don’t know what I am talking about.

I’ll start again.

Today, I made lunch for Caspar and me and I wanted to eat together while we watched a dvd. I couldn’t find it and that upset me. Big Sis was using her computer so I couldn’t burn one. So I tried to find something else but none of the real dvds would work. My dvd player only likes .avi files. So that upset me. And Caspar had eaten half his lunch without me while I flapped around feeling broken because it seemed so little ask, just to watch a dvd. I cannot organise myself. I feel confused. My lunch was cold. I didn’t even want it anymore. Then Big Sis came out with a burned copy but she wasn’t sure it was the right one and I tried to organise my thoughts and figure it out but she just backed away as fast as she could while I struggled for words, distressed over nothing.

She doesn’t handle other people’s emotions well, my Big Sis. She shuts down. She gets out of there. She knows this and I know this. But that closed door left me feeling wrecked for hours. Rejected. Nobody can deal with me. Nobody will be around me as I am. Nobody will help me. Why does everyone leave.

Later, we talked. And I cried because I can’t seem to do anything else. And she is there for me and isn’t rejecting me. And I know that she tries her best to make room for what is going on. And we both know that no-one can fix me anyway. “That’s the depression talking,” she says when I try to explain how I feel. I feel abandoned. I feel like a child.

She is not kind to my friends. She has no respect for the people who say that they’ll call or say that they’ll visit or say that we’ll catch up some time. “They’re not your friends,” she says. There is truth in that, maybe. I make excuses for them.

I have other friends. Better friends, but they are far away. I don’t have the energy for gargantuan efforts to see them briefly. I want to be around people. Just daily people. Who talk in nothings. Nobody shares my nothings.

How silly and inconsequential this seems. I would like to stop crying now.

I have a counselling appointment for the 22nd. The woman who called asked me questions, took down my doctor’s name, my pension number, my Medicare number. I truly hope she is not the counsellor, she had an awful, harsh voice, even though there was nothing wrong with her tone.

I wanted to think about the clock, and what that meant. I don’t understand the clock. I feel like I should put backlinks in these posts so what I am talking about makes some kind of sense. I don’t have the energy for that. Making sense is not the purpose. I should put a note on the sidebar, maybe, for strange visitors.

The clock. The clock makes no sense to me. A clock I hated, that made me feel burdened and overwhelmed, that would make sense. But a clock that stopped me in my tracks, that made me want it to be the first thing I saw when I woke up? I read somewhere that a clock can be a mandala, a symbol of the self, but I am struggling to read at the moment. I cannot concentrate. I skip whole passages, whole pages.

I think I need to work out why, at my lowest lowest point, my cry is always that “Nobody ever takes care of me.” I think that is true and untrue. I think that is true and untrue for everyone. Why do I reduce to that little girl voice? I’m going out the back to eat worms?

I thought I should read about The Orphan archetype but I don’t have all my books. And the web is useless. I think Jung is really helpful, but he does attract the crazies. And he’s not easy. Everything gets simplified and misinterpreted. Jung is buried very deep in the psyche of the internet. I can’t find it.

And my eyes are stinging. And I am tired. And I am stupid. And I want so much to write something useful to myself and this all seems so useless. I don’t think I will read it. I will just post it. I’ll read what I said tomorrow. I guess nothing is useless.