Grief makes me feel bipolar, like I'm on a rollercoaster of emotional extremes... PMS on crack. *Not that I do crack*

But, there's an emotional cocktail at work here, inside me, and sorting through it is a little scary and definitely confusing. I've put a lot of myself out here in this blog, so I might as well go All In. I was diagnosed with depression many years ago and have been treated with meds (still am) and the regular talk-therapy type stuff. Generally, this package, in combination with exercise and rest, had gotten me through the tough years of grad school, the stress of taking a job in the middle of nowhere, and managing my relationships.

My mother's progressive, aggressive alcoholism added an element that threw my delicate balance out of whack. Who's born to know what to do, how to handle a parent's alcoholism? Thank goodness for Al-Anon, a group created for friends and family who have alcoholics in their lives. It provides coping strategies and a safe place to discuss fears and worries.  I learned a lot, and added this to my bag of tricks.

When I started flying out east at a moment's notice to see my mother near death in the hospital, my depression kicked in. My fear was out of control. It was hard to balance any kind of happy emotional life. So I self-medicated with wine, late nights, and denial.  This did not do wonders for me. Imagine that. It was the beginning of my own descent.  My mom's death was a relief, and I am sure most of all to her. When we buried her, it was raining. As the priest said his final prayer, there was an unbelievable rainbow that blossomed out of the darkness.  I am SO not kidding. I knew she was at peace, and I started to think I was, too.

Not long after she died, my dad was diagnosed. The night he called, I drank a bottle of scotch.  There ain't no therapy for what I was experiencing, but I can't even imagine how my father must have been feeling. He had to digest the news himself, and then tell his children he was dying.  I was in a fog for weeks as I tried to wrap my head around it. Our relationship was good; we were all finding equilibrium after mom's death; what kind of fucked up Universe delivers a blow like this? Who were we to deserve it?

There are not enough anti-depressants to help with this. I developed generalized anxiety and post-traumatic stress disorder. I was afraid of everything--getting in a car wreck, stalkers,  divorce, being diagnosed with cancer myself.  

So this is the cocktail of which I speak: depression/anxiety/post traumatic stress and grief. Which is which? My meds seem to keep me from killing myself, but not much else.  Meds aren't enough. There *are* no medications for grief. But yet, grief is adding to my depression. What can help me?

I started taking yoga classes almost every day, but I let myself off of most other obligations. I have committed to volunteering one night a week at a place that gives me as much I give. I can do one night a week.

My heart is still taking a beating, but I am beginning to have a new type of rollercoaster experience: some days, some moments, have been really happy, and then something small happens and I crumble. Swing-------> Swing -------> <-------Swing!  There are times that grief makes me feel like a lunatic. I can't predict my responses to things, people...I dislike this immensely. Thank god for Gardetto's. When nothing else makes sense, Gardetto's always make sense. Yes, I am depending on a snack food.  I don't care. I take what I can get.

There are some wonderful things coming up, and I have to dig deep to desire them, but if I can drag myself there the outcome is usually good. This is encouraging. We have trips upcoming, some local, some not, some together, and some solo. I just want to make it through all of them unscathed, but honestly, I doubt I will. There is still scathing to be experienced. I'm accepting this. It's part of my "now" normal. I am easily scathed. I accept this, too.

Tomorrow I am part of honoring the memory of a wonderful woman.  Her papers mentioned she wanted  me to sing at her funeral. Well, I can do that. One thing at a time. This weekend, celebrating a friend's birthday and beginning our World Cup madness.  Not thinking ahead to Father's Day.  Since my dad passed away, every day seems like Father's Day.