Yesterday I had the kind of day that reminds me why there is such a thing as recreational drug use.
I’m not really much of an escapist in that sense. Of course, after a hard day at work, I’ll be the first to say, “God, I could really use a drink.â€ù But it’s rare that I follow up. It’s just not my thing. When I want to escape, I’m more inclined to do it physically. As a kid, when I was fed up with parents and siblings and next door neighbor kids, I used to crawl to the top shelf in my closet, lie down, and listen to the world go on around me. Or sometimes I’d drag a large piece of plywood into the alfalfa field across the street and eat chocolate chip cookies that I’d filched from the kitchen counter. Leave me alone. In a hectic, stressed-out house, sometimes that was a big request.
As an adult, I’m not much different. I still use physical distance to separate myself from emotional difficulty or stress. I’ve stayed in my apartment for entire weekends, putting around, reading, talking to no one but the cat. I’ve moved all the way across the country to keep family issues at arm’s length. Which, really, I’d be kidding myself if I believed that was actually any sort of escape.
Sort of like the drug thing, I suppose.
If I didn’t love my family, the geographical distance between us would solve everything. But as it turns out, I kind of like them. A lot. I love them to frustration, agony and distraction. And when something hard happens, I find myself closing in that distance with telephone lines and “reply to all.â€ù
My dad’s mental illness never fails to shock us kids. Every new departure from reality has us in stunned disbelief. Are you kidding? really means, Please tell me you are because this scares me.
Last night I sat on the phone with my father for a half hour, trying to repair the day’s damage. He’d been hurt again because his version of what is real and true does not match, no matter which way you turn it, with anyone else’s.
“I don’t want to talk about what happened today, Dad. That won’t make either of us feel any better. I just called to tell you that I love you.â€ù
“I love you, too, kiddo. So much.â€ù
I should be used to the breakdowns by now. The crying he’s trying so hard to keep down, to keep from translating over the phone. It’s gotten worse lately. Worse when I think time should have been making it better. He wants so much to please us. But in the world his brain chemistry has made, his efforts only seem to produce frightening, heart-breaking results.
After a half hour, I hung up and made my getaway. I retreated across the street where, had I wanted to, I could have indulged in some herbal escapism. But it wasn’t necessary. By the time I settled onto the couch with a drooling puppy, a wise-ass friend and a baseball game, I was doing alright.
Sometimes being with people who just let you be, is an escape all of its own.
i normally just read your blog and generally keep my mouth shut, but this post just made me think “yes, yes, yes!” that explains EXACTLY how i’ve felt in situations and is how i tend to deal with certain things. god bless wiseass friends and drooling puppies.
i don’t think that you will ever get used to the breakdowns. it’s very hard to watch a family member whom you love dearly go through these episodes, where part of you comprehends yet doesn’t. where part of you wants to help, sometimes is laden with guilt, and then there’s the other part that just doesn’t understand. sorry, speaking very personally here.
“God bless wiseass friends and drooling puppies”
Amen to that! Even for things that are not as difficult to bear. Hang in there…
It’s funny darlin’ I have a key to your apt. but we never considered that you should have a key to mine. Done.
And yes, you didn’t enjoy the herbalistics but how could you not tell the in’nernet the bigger part?
She didn’t TOUCH the chocolate chip cookies!
So much more impressive.
it doesnt hurt to be with friends who cares for you…
i love my friends dearly… well they are my gift from god in apology to my family…
Your brother and I appreciate the clean up you did after the fiasco yesterday. I know the situations aren’t always easy but you are wonderful and I thought you should know that.
I’m sorry you have to go through the situation with your dad. No one should have to bear that, but it sounds as if you handle it as best you can.
On a lighter note, I read your Q&A section from a few weeks back and one of your comments– If he likes you he won’t make you wonder– stuck with me. Anyway, I’ve kept it in mind and it relaxed me to the point where he stopped making me wonder. Thanks for that.
You said it very poigently or however you spell that.
friends are the escape and herbal essence shower moments. They allow us to just be and for that…well, that’s really all there needs to be.
no matter the other happenings in life, thinking and worrying over family is an instant ground.
Sometimes you don’t need advice or to hear someone else’s take on your situation. You just need to exisit in their presence and that is enough. I’m glad you were able to “escape” with a friend.
I’m sure above all else hearing you dad call you “kiddo” hurts just that much more, yet comforts you all at the same time because it gives you that glimpse of your childhood dad.
You might try reading this book, Dr Demartini’s The Breakthrough Experience. It really helps you come to terms with how life “is” and how we attach emotion to it. Anyways, touching article! My Dad is an alcoholic and I’ve had a rough time with him until I realized that I decide how I feel.
try that drink next time, though.
You keep hanging out with that Ari kid, you’ll never get into a good college!!! She’s bad news, with the herbs and the cookies all the time.
another amen to the “god bless wiseass friends and drooling puppies” remark. glad you have good ones you can lean on, who know when to just let you be. can be hard to find those wonderful people – hang onto them. those friends are the ones who, to me, feel like family.
I would give anything to hear my dad call me ‘kiddo’ …just one more time…
Yep, I relate to all your Dad stuff. My Dad is bi-polar and it’s pretty intense.
I appreciate your posts about dealing with mental illness. My husband has schizoaffective disorder, a “cousin” to schizophrenia. It’s comforting for me to read someone else put feelings so similar to mine so eloquently. All I read about in the support group postings is “X is doing much better”. Good for them. Posts about feelings are rare.
Anyway, I wish you wisdom, compassion and understanding. Thank you.
I’m glad you have good friends, drooling puppies, and it also looks like your siblings recognize & appreciate you. It’s nice you have support.
That’s not escapism at all. That’s exactly what wise-ass friends with drooling puppies are for.
Thank goodness for the Ari(s) of the world. May we all be lucky enough to have some.
“And when you need someone you don’t have to speak to, won’t you come see my Queen Jane.” b. dylan
I love reading your blog. It is like reading what is in my head!!
I have a grey horse that acts as your drooling puppy. I’ve cried more times into his soft neck, and told him my darkest secrets/deepest fears…If he were human oh what a story he could tell! I truly enjoy reading your blog. Your writing really hits home sometimes. Thank you! Lee in FL