I can’t get over this week. It’s been one hell of a week, and I’ve only been out of hospital 10 days. It’s been crazy busy. And so very exhausting, but I wouldn’t change it for the world, being at home is just wonderful (I wouldn’t mind changing the frequency of my dissociations, or the constant barrage of the voice, or the fact that I have to take my meds and feeds because that was a dependent factor of my discharge. It sucks, because doing both these things distress me so.)
Last Friday was the ceremony Brad and Amy had put together, for Mum. They are finally Mr and Mrs Pettit Jnr and I have a lovely sister-in-law! It was an absolutely beautiful and magical day. Everyone looked stunning and their vows bought laughter and tears and it was just so lovely to see Mum so happy. To see everyone happy, naturally, but especially Mum. Considering the day started off a bit disastrous we soon dealt with that and the rest of the day was immensely perfect. I hate all the photos of me of course but if there’s anything Mum has taught me it’s that small things like that don’t matter in the grand scheme of things.
Mum is not well. I fucking hate the cancer with all the feelings I can muster, and at the moment that is a lot. She is in so much pain, it is horrible to witness- but she doesn’t complain- that’s Mum. She had her drain inserted and I have learned how to work it as it is awkward for her to reach, and today I even took her stitches out. Doing such things makes me feel good, feel helpful, feel that I might be making her as comfortable as I can possibly do. I’m strong and stoic when I’m doing things for her- but trust me- the tears come later. And when I saw my psychiatrist last Thursday, she encouraged that, the tears. Because anyone, ANYONE, going through this would be finding it difficult. But add my mental health status at the moment, that’s when things get really difficult.
So for months I have been planning to go to the Sit Down Comedy Club this weekend. And to catch up with a couple of good friends I haven’t seen for awhile- so Saturday, I booked an apartment in the city and had a spectacular, low key, high PRN, night of love and laughter. I spent a few hours with my bestie Mike, then a few hours at the SDCC first seeing Khaled Khalafalla who was impressive and then my friends Damien Power was MC and Daniel Townes was headlining and the support was great too (all mentioned had to deal with THE most uncivilized and rude crowd I have witnessed- and deal with it they did, much kudos to them. Legends.) and it was so good for me to finally be back in my happy place and with friends on to boot. I’m going to make this a more regular thing. After that I went to west end to meet a dear friend I haven’t seen properly for SO long and I regret the fact that my meds kicked in and I got tired and headed back to my apartment. Hopefully there’s more catch ups in the future.
So last week was a rest week but this week I’m getting back into it. To do:
- Gardening/ taking care of my bonsai
- Helping to look after Mum
- Just being with family and friends
- Accepting treatment (whether I think I need help or not)
- Live in the moment
The last one will be the hardest. I’m already at breaking point. But a) do I not tell anyone and continue to let things build and build and build or b) do I let people know and hope they can help in some way? I’m between a rock and a hard place because in reality, I don’t think I can be helped. I know, you’d think mums prognosis would help me, would help with my motivation. But in the real world, it’s done the opposite? I don’t understand it either but that’s the reality of things. I can’t trust myself, my mood can change 5 times over in 3 mins. I go from being numb, to devastated, to detached, to angry, to empty, to just plain blocking out the situation completely. And sometimes, when things get bad and I think (or nurses said to me in hospital) that “you have to have these meds, for your Mum; or you have to have your feed, for your Mum.” … my head tells me that everyone has made the cancer up, just to get me to do things I don’t want to do. Logical me says that’s not right, not what’s going on- but confused and frightened me can’t help but think it sometimes.
Anyway it’s late and I’m not tired, not sleepy, but am going to try and distract another way. I’m probably going to check out the Eric Andre show for awhile and see if that helps. (Thanks for the rec Damo.)
Tonight I rewatched Hannah Gadsby: Nanette which is really really powerful and gets me every time, but her sharing her story makes me feel stronger (and I was already pretty open) about sharing my story. And there are a few choice quotes in there, one I’ve lined up for my next “quotable.” post which you’ll have to wait for, but the one below hit me hard as I do go to the comedy clubs to find some relief, I do watch stand up at home to quieten my mind. Music and comedy are my go to PRN, before any pills.
“Laughter is just the honey that sweetens the bitter medicine.” – Hannah Gadsby, Nanette
Things to remember… (This has always been a hard one for me as I feel that no one can understand what I’m going through, and therefore I AM alone.)