Visions of Aestia

Now that I have a few minutes on the computer….

Yesterday, I FINALLY got some time with my friend Liz, who I thought was a good friend. She’s here till the 8th, because she is getting married on the 7th and then going on to ChristChurch where they plan to settle. I haven’t really seen her much in the past year, so I was looking forward to finally getting together for coffee. I was under the impression we’d be getting together alone - fair enough that she brought along her friend from SA, who she hasn’t seen in years. It was alright, I guess, that she brought along another friend that lives just over the hill. They’re both nice so I thought, okay, I’ll just get to know them too.

The entire outing was spent having coffee while the three girls talked (I had to interupt several times just to be let in on the subject at all), and the subject was mostly about what they were going to do that evening. Every detail of where they were going, what they would wear, how drunk they’ll get, plans for one of them to get laid….. I just sat there, feeling akward, trying to add what I could like suggestions of places to go, all the while realizing that not only was I not invited (sometimes those things are very clear without being said, but the proof came later) but that the girls were not interested in talking to me at all…. let alone Liz making an effort to talk to me.

I perfectly understand why the other girls didn’t invite me. That was Liz’s place since I was her friend. But when she dropped me off, she asked me what I was doing for the night. “Nothing,” I said, putting on a sad face, slight pout. “No where to go and nothing to do”. That was her opening. All I got was a not-so-sympathetic smile and a “oh what a shame… I’m sure you’ll have fun with your little one”. “No,” I said, desperate to make it clear I didn’t want to be home tonight, “She’ll sleep through the whole thing.” Liz merely laughs and says her goodbyes.

Ouch. Bitchslap. What a lousy thing to do! I had been, kindly, invited to Liz’s hen party on weds by one of the girls in secret, and accepted happily though I made it clear I’d have to make an early exit…. *sighs* I can’t be bothered…. losing precious sleep when I have to take care of a very active 1 year old would be worth it for a real friend. I find it hard to justify to myself the effort now.

“This is where I wish your family and Rachel’s were here as you all miss out on so much… Anyway, I feel badly that you all miss out on so much…especially the holidays, time for making those family memories…Cecily is missing out on so much…I realize that you did not grow up with grandparents and john didn’t have contact with his very much…but we are real grandparents…cecily is also missing out on knowing what real cousins and aunts and uncles are…and I
disagree that it is the same, with you there…there is not that tight bonding…at least zedok, knows his aunts and uncles here and has a “family” so I wish you and john would think about comming back…before cecily is too old…to care…”

The christmas card we finally got from my lovely mother-in-law was basically the same thing. What kind of xmas card gives you a major guilt trip? I opened the mail thinking yay, a card, we never get those, and its full of a short version of above… then today I get the above email (condenced to show the depressing bits, the rest is all about how much fun their having baking for christmas…). I’m still crying… what right do they have? SHE can visit, without any trouble, we’re not stopping her…. we can’t leave until we get residency or we lose our visa’s, and on top of that its a pain in the ass to fly with a child on a 24 hour + flight. Does she think we’re doing it to spite them? Does anyone fucking care how depressed I am I have no family on christmas and I definitely don’t need a reminder? I have a friend thats dropping by out of pure pity (she made it clear she only has time for a few minutes), and the rest of the day is just us three - thats depressing enough without help thank you. I’m used to big to-do’s on christmas with family and close friends, I don’t need to be reminded that I have a now hugely extended family having a good old time without me. And I certainly don’t need to hear about how Cecily will be missing out, as if we’re purposly keeping them out of our life…. America is horrible now, especially for bringing up kids; there’s no way I’m bringing her back there to live. And no one is bloody stopping HER from visiting so that Cec CAN meet her grandparents.
Damnit i’m too angry to finish and I cant see the screen through my tears. Why do people do things without thinking how it will hurt someone? How does us living away from home give HER the fucking right to make me feel like shit?

Well, there are good days and there are bad days. The good days are far more numerous than the bad days, but the bad days are still awful.

WARNING: excessive negativity in this post. I will try to balance it with a positive post when my mood lightens. This is just how I feel on my bad days, not how I feel all the time.

On the bad days:
When I am sick, I am told that it’s all in my head or that I’m trying to upstage someone who is really sick.
When I am depressed, I am told to get over it. The words “pity party” have been used.
When I do something stupid - which happens quite often - I get dressed down in front of Cecily. This morning she was looking back and forth between me and Mommy trying to figure out what was going on.

I work an eight-hour day, come home and spend two hours watching my daughter; I also watch her all day on the weekends. I come straight home after work and do not go out by myself on the weekends. If I did not run my games I would not have a social life.

I also spend up to 10 hours a week maintaining and expanding my computing skills so I can continue to get the best paying consulting gigs. Most of this is through technical reading but I also have programming and 300 e-mail messages a day from various mailing lists.

I’ve never been treated like a king nor have I ever asked that - and I am very aware of my personal failings. I constantly promise to spend an hour working on chores and frequently do not follow through. I sleep in later than I should, and cannot do the dishes, laundry, or vacuuming correctly. I am not even capable of feeding Cecily without major incident.

I get depressed, I guess, because I want a word of encouragement or sympathy now and again but do things so poorly and inconsistently at home that instead I constantly frustrate Ama. When she frowns, it feels like a bottomless pit opens up beneath my feet, and when she is angry all the color runs out of my life. Here is the most wonderful, beautiful creature I have ever met and yet I do nothing but upset her. All I ever want to do with my life is make her smile, and yet I cannot do the smallest things that would make her happy.

Maybe I’ll feel better after lunch.

Okay so its stupid to complain about a free system, but here I am adding my complaint. I was taken on by Maternal Mental Health soon after my third trimester, then discharged once Cecily hit 6 months because I seemed to be stable. Then I had to self-refer myself around the time Cec turned 7 months because I was falling apart and having my darling husband come home roughly once a week before I fell apart. The psychiatrist I was assigned was HORRIBLE…. I’ll leave out the stupid questions I was asked, but in the end I had to TELL him what meds I needed, because he was quite content to play with the dosage of the medication that clearly was not working (I know because i was on the damn things for nearly 9 months and was getting worse). I was on a great mix of meds back in America and they had just come out in this country the month before, so I begged to be put on them.
I was soon to find out that they cost $200 for the lot a month… not subsidised. The pharmacist assured me all I needed was a small signature from my psychiatrist, quite simple don’t worry honey, saying that I needed this medication and I could get it for the usual $30 or less.
Nothing doing, oohhh no.
After a half hour on the phone trying to remind the assigned psychiatrist who I was, including repeating my name no less than 10 times (he does not appear to speak english very well? And i had just seem him the day before!), I was promptly told he had no clue what I was talking about and would call me back once he figured it out. I waited two days for him to call back to tell me no he can not give me the signature, he’s not even sure what it is for (um isn’t this your job?) but I cannot sign that you need these meds. (Note to sceptical reader: I tried to assure him many many many times that I could get a very detailed history from previous psychiatrists of all the medications i tried until I reached a very successful stability under the ones I begged him for)

In the end I complained to my assigned community nurse , saying I would like a new psychiatist assigned… and was politely but firmly informed that I was being silly and should give him another chance, that they really didn’t have the resources to bother with minor complaints and if he says he can’t help me then thats that. I won’t go into what I read into the rest of her attitude because its heresey, but I assure you it isn’t complimentary.
Grr. Its, oh, three months? later and when my community nurse saw me today, I assured her I am quite happy and stable and thanks for the help I can do it on my own. Lots of smiles, have a good day
I didn’t even bother telling her that I’m going to go pay for some bloody help because I’m tired of being treated like just another bit of paper work. I’m far more stable than I have been since I had Cecily thanks to these meds, but I’m under a great deal of stress and need a lot more fine tuning, and it took me 2… TWO… months to get the damn psychiatrist to up my meds to what I know is my stable dosage…

ah bugger it. Cecily is wanting to play and I’m done ranting. Signing off