My sister has been sick this weekend. I automatically kicked in with my old trauma response. This house is clean. All the laundry has been done. All the dishes have been washed, and the bathroom is sanitized. While I know this doesn't sound that unusual for me, the sense of urgency that these tasks have been completed is out of the ordinary. I am cleaning purely out of anxiety. I started having flashbacks.
When I was growing up, my mom was sick a lot. She had depressive episodes, and psychotic episodes quite often during my childhood. When I was little, I did my best to be a good girl and stay out of the way. When I got older, I cleaned the house, did laundry and did my very best is school. I was driven to be a very good girl and keep everything in order. It was the only way I could manage my anxiety. I figured that if everything was neat and tidy on the outside, it would help my mother maintain herself on the inside. Of course, things didn't work out that way, but what is a kid supposed to do when she's not even sure what the problem is?
I think if we had been told, well, make that if I had been told that my mom had a mental illness I would have been better able to handle the chaos going on around me. I'm sure I would have looked up schizophrenia in the library and learned what to expect. It would have helped me recognize that her illness was not because of me, but a chemical imbalance in her brain and her symptoms were the result of those chemicals being out of whack. Instead, I was left on my own to try and figure out what was going on, and like most children, I thought that what was happening with my mother was my fault. I thought she didn't like me. I wasn't pretty enough, I wasn't smart enough or good enough. So, I went out of my way to be good, and quiet, and neat.
Well, since my sister got sick a month or so ago, these feelings have been coming back. I have to keep the apartment clean and orderly in order to keep the chaos in my head in check. If the house is messy, then I can't function. Things being out of place leave me discombobulated. My anxiety rises to the level of panic, then I completely fall apart. I had been managing okay for quite a while, but now all those old fears are bubbling up again. What if April gets really sick? What if she becomes disabled or worse, what if she dies? What will I do? Who will look out for me? Who will help Erica and Sean deal with the loss of their mom? I can't do it. I won't be able to. I barely made it through when my parent died.
So, here I am again. The little girl inside woke up from her slumber and is feeling lost and abandoned once more. The only way to calm her down is to put everything away, and make sure everything is clean and organized. I guess this is something I should speak to my therapist about now that it is apparent that's what's going on. I'm so tired and my body aches. NO amount of Tylenol is helping. I'm in chronic pain. My sister will be 65 on the 30th. I hope she is well by then. I think I'll go sit in the care and cry for a while. I can't let anyone know that I am upset, it will make them upset. I must keep it together in front of others. I must be a good girl.
Peace- BB