Isolated, tearful and proud

It's strange to be around so many people and still feel so isolated. It's like a weekly trip back in time to my childhood. Re-experiencing the loneliness I felt day in and day out despite having so many siblings, so many neighborhood kids around. Maybe that is what has been driving my depression lately.

I find myself on the verge of tears at all times. One wrong thought, one wrong word spoken by myself or someone else sends them streaming out. I cried in front of my T yesterday. Today I nearly cried in group. I cried off and on while watching TV, even while reading my magazine. I struggle so hard to contain it. I don't want to go through another spell like I had while in the hospital. As cathartic as it felt when it was over, the thoughts flooding through my head, particularly the suicidal ones, scared me. I'm not physically in a safe place to let that happen again.

There could be so many different triggers for all this. But I can't even identify what might be a trigger versus what is a symptom as they all seem to overlap. I'm just trying to hold myself together. I don't want to get to the point I've been at so many times in the past. I don't want to view death as the only way out, something I've been able to avoid doing now for 2 & a half months. Might not seem long, but for me it feels like an eternity and I'd like to keep it that way. Out of reach, beyond my grasp.

I'm still uneasy around all these men, a feeling that doesn't seem to want to subside. I try to be one of the first ones in the room because it's easier to stake out my place in the corner near a door than to walk in later and have all these eyes upon me. Easier than having to take a seat between several men and having several more sitting directly across from me.

They say hi and smile. Some seem to want to talk to me, glancing over at me when I'm sitting next to them. I feel I'm giving off a negative vibe, keeping my distance because of my own anxieties and uncertainties, but still they want to be friendly. I don't get it. Or maybe I'm just reading them all wrong. Maybe they're looking at me because they can't believe how tremendously fat and ugly I am. Maybe they want to be nosey and ask what that big, ugly ass scar near my neck is. I honestly don't know, and at this point in time, I'm honestly not interested in conversing with any of them to find out.

On a lighter note, today was the kiddie's 15th birthday. This is going to be a year of some great milestones in her life. She gets to learn how to drive and get her permit. She will be able to get a job over the summer, something I'm definitely going to encourage her to do. Not necessarily for the money, but more for the additional social interaction and for learning to tackle more than one responsibility at a time. Right now school is her only real responsibility and she's handling it exceedingly well. But life usually piles on multiple responsibilities at once so I'd like her to experience and learn how to juggle that.

She is planning on going to summer school to move up a level in math. She's hoping to get Algebra 3-4 out of the way so she can start AP Statistics in the fall. That'll put her in three college level courses as a Sophomore because she's automatically enrolled in AP Biology and AP American History as a part of the curriculum for the academy.

She's also going to summer school to do the Health class that is required of all students in order to graduate. They normally do that during gym, but since she has a medical waiver and doesn't attend gym class, she won't be able to take it during the regular school year. Heck, even if she didn't have the medical waiver, she qualifies for a scholastic waiver from gym so she can take more electives. Guess they figure the smart kids are better served by actual academic classes instead of the bullshit gym class that will hurt their GPA if they aren't athletically inclined.

Next year is the Sweet 16 party, which we've already begun planning for. I'm so looking forward to making that something very special for her cuz she sure as hell deserves it. Won't be one of these parties they show on MTV with the spoiled brats getting expensive cars they don't deserve, but we're certainly going to try and make it one she'll never forget.

I'm looking forward to making her cry on that day, but they'll be tears of love and joy. I have a special present for her, a letter I wrote to her many years ago when she was about six or seven years old, one that I have always planned to give her on her 16th birthday. I sealed it up, so I have no idea what it even says, though I do remember I wrote it the day she learned to ride a bicycle. I'm sure it mentions how much I love her and how I can't wait to see what kind of young woman she grows into. She's a far better person than I could ever have imagined I'd raise, given my illnesses and traumatic childhood.

She's made me so damn proud. I couldn't have asked for a better kid. I'm trying to let that inspire me to be an even better mom, a healthy one.