The morning after in February 2018

I posted my dream about Zoe coming home in my dream journal. Yesterday afternoon, I was driving home from work and I had a sensory memory of drinking strong Sierra Nevada beer. I felt like drinking. A lot. I had worked my ass off at work and it was 84 degrees and sunny and the music I was listening to in the car was really moving me. That’s the first time I have really gotten into listening to music the way I used to in a really long time. I felt like kicking back with some YouTube videos and lots and lots of beer. After seeing Heather’s post of pictures of Zoe laughing and smiling with her substitute family and seeing that she had changed her last name to Shelton, and seeing the comments of I love you between her and Heather, I just wanted to get in the zone and numb out. I wasn’t really in any danger of actually buying beer and drinking it and I knew that the first thing I would do when I got home was post to the BFB. So I did and I felt better and I talked to my friend Heather (not Zoe’s MIL) about it. I did watch some videos and enjoyed the music but not as much as I did when I was listening in the car. I spent an hour or two on facebook and then went to bed around 7:30. Lately, I have been doing more mindfulness meditations as a way to escape from feeling sad and upset all the time. So I did two body scans and fell asleep. I am so glad that I have the meditation practice to help me out and give me little breaks. I think I’m on a 47 day streak or something like that of meditating. Will called the Waxhaw sheriff’s department yesterday and made arrangements for a deputy to escort him to get his car back. I am upset that we will be taking the car back because, in many ways, I feel like that is our only tie to her and shows that we care for her no matter what she does. I know she will hold it against me and feel like if we do this, I’ll never get her back. Will says that if he had the money, he would let her keep the car but as it is now, we are spending $600 a month that we really don’t have for her to have it. Parker has a car, albeit one that he trashed the inside of when he was still doing heroin. So they do have a way to get around, just not a way that they like to use. But they are young and starting out and need to understand that they have to work their way up in the world, just like we did. Another perspective is that if she wants to cut off all ties with us and even change her name, then her new substitute family needs to take care of her. She won’t let us do it. It’s kind of silly for us to be breaking our backs to provide her with a nice car when she has us blocked on her phone and social media and we have no way of contacting her. But it still makes me sad, scared, and anxious. So Will feels relief over being able to get the car back but I feel the opposite. She is still communicating with my best friend, Heather, and Heather is going over there next Friday to give her her Christmas gift. Between my Heather and her MIL’s, also Heather, instagram account, at least I will know when she has the baby and be able to see pictures. Of course, seeing a baby that I can’t hold will kill me a little more inside. I have no way of knowing when she goes into labor or has a c-section. This freaks me out and makes me crazy. Who knows how many years it will go on this way. I just don’t know if I can handle it. I have been going to bed early every night because I am exhausted from keeping it all together every day. That makes me feel like I am failing Jane and Will, too. So far, I have very little guilt over the way I have raised Jane. I stayed home with her until she was 11 and have always been there for her and kind to her. I was older and wiser and was finally being treated correctly for my bipolar disorder. So her life has been very stable and good. I don’t think I can handle screwing that up now. But I am just so exhausted and upset in the evenings when I get home from work. Almost every night, I still make dinner and sometimes I am even able to stay up until 8:30 or 9 but for the most part, I check out after I make dinner. My therapist says to realize that I am doing the best that I can and that the work we are doing in therapy will help. I realized in our last session that I have an internal mechanism that keeps me from fully processing grief. I start to cry and may cry for a few minutes but before I get to the point of really feeling the pain or sobbing, I involuntarily take a deep breath and stop crying. I instantly get “better.” I am going to have to overcome this somehow if I want to get better. We are supposed to work on the fear I have of feeling pain next week. I have made a new friend and I am really enjoying talking to her in the mornings. She’s a member of the BFB and we both have experienced childhood trauma so we can relate to one another I think. I picked up my new glasses yesterday and I don’t think I like them as much as my old frames. Then again, I look so fat in the face right now that I don’t like how anything looks on me. I have been living off of sugar, soda, and ecigs for the past 2 weeks. I am so afraid that if I don’t get my shit together and start eating right, that when I go to the nutritionist next week, she will not approve me for surgery. I really want this weight loss surgery to happen. I have anxiety that somehow insurance won’t cover it and I won’t be able to have it this year. I just need to call the insurance coordinator and get the facts instead of worrying about it and catastrophizing. Jane has ice skating today around midday and Will might go get the car but other than that, we don’t have any plans. We’re low on money so I don’t think there’s much we can actually do. I have let the house go somewhat from being depressed and I really need to do the chores that I have been putting off. I hope that I have the energy and the wherewithal to get it done today and/or tomorrow. I take a lot of pride in my home and am worried that I’ll never clean it the way I usually do again. Maybe I’ll make a to-do list to help motivate me and feel like I have accomplished something.