What Did I Ever Do To The Gods?
I shouldn't post when I am having a panic-crisis, but I need to do something to get it out. I just found out that my dad has started physical therapy...at my clinic. I can't breathe. I love my dad, I do, but he weighs 500 pounds and is dirty and smelly and has sores all over him and I can't...I don't want these people to associate how he lives his life with me. I work hard to stay as healthy as I can. It takes a lot of spoons for me to shower and get dressed and put on makeup before I go to PT, but I do it because I try to take pride in myself. And my dad lives in his own filth. He doesn't even care at this point and I just can't...
I do not exaggerate when I say going into his house makes me physically ill - I get an arthritis flare-up every time I set foot in his place just from the smell and the mold. On top of it, I have spent my whole life listening to everyone tell me how great my dad is, how lucky I am to have him, how funny and charming and involved he is. These people...people who never had to live under the terror of his roof...they don't know. He was physically abusive to my brothers and also emotionally abusive and neglectful to us and I remember like hiding in my closet as a child and shit. And though he tries now - got on medication for the bipolar and he is always there if I call with a financial need and things are better between us - he is still unbalanced and there is so much history there and I can never put into words what living in that house was like. And somehow he charms the pants off everyone he meets and the thought of my people being wooed by him is too much. I can't have him in my safe space like this, in the other half of my world. One of the things I like about my PT clinic is that it doesn't feel like a medical clinic...it's professional but casual and I need that, I need low stress because I do get medical/health anxiety and now I have family anxiety on top of it and it is no longer a safe space for me if he is there and idk what to do about it.
Like, I knew he was going to PT soon, but I thought they would send out a home health person because Dad is basically homebound - every time I got it in my head that his doc might send him to my clinic, I made myself dismiss it because what were the odds?! But I have had several anxiety spikes about this in the last few weeks, as he worked out the details to get in somewhere, and now my fears are real. I had a panic attack earlier, like shaking, couldn't breath, called The BFF, took a Xanax and tomorrow I will call my counselor and make an emergency appointment for next week. As for my PT appt tomorrow, I may cancel, if I don't feel any better by the time I get up, because the thought of going in there and having everyone be like, "Oh, I met your dad. He's great," is too overwhelming. He did tell me the name of his therapist and at least it isn't any of my therapists, no one I've ever worked with before. I'm not even worried about medical confidentiality like I was the one time my mom went there and K gave everyone a big speech about remembering their confidentiality with patients and then specifically pulled my therapist aside to explain that under no circumstances, not even for casual talk, was she allowed to mention me to my mom. It's not even that with Dad, it's just the thought of him in my clinic, charming all these people, and...okay, you all know I have a familial father/brother relationship/friendship with K, where he tends to introduce me as his foster-sister to people, and even though he knows everything about me and my dad, the thought of the two of them interacting, the thought of 'the family we make' crossing over with the family I was given...it's all too much.
/deep breath/. This is not really the issues that are why I am in counseling, but it will be nice to have someone to talk this out with that isn't my sister, who deals with her own issues with my dad. I'm going to watch some Firefly now and eat a shitton of Cheezits and worry about the rest of it tomorrow. Also, reminder to self that once I chill the fuck out, I want to post about how zen I found the aquarium in Chicago and the crazy Ebola-Steve McGarret-Chad Michael Murray dream I had the other night. But not now...now I just breath and try not to think about how good taking like 3 Xanax sounds.
I do not exaggerate when I say going into his house makes me physically ill - I get an arthritis flare-up every time I set foot in his place just from the smell and the mold. On top of it, I have spent my whole life listening to everyone tell me how great my dad is, how lucky I am to have him, how funny and charming and involved he is. These people...people who never had to live under the terror of his roof...they don't know. He was physically abusive to my brothers and also emotionally abusive and neglectful to us and I remember like hiding in my closet as a child and shit. And though he tries now - got on medication for the bipolar and he is always there if I call with a financial need and things are better between us - he is still unbalanced and there is so much history there and I can never put into words what living in that house was like. And somehow he charms the pants off everyone he meets and the thought of my people being wooed by him is too much. I can't have him in my safe space like this, in the other half of my world. One of the things I like about my PT clinic is that it doesn't feel like a medical clinic...it's professional but casual and I need that, I need low stress because I do get medical/health anxiety and now I have family anxiety on top of it and it is no longer a safe space for me if he is there and idk what to do about it.
Like, I knew he was going to PT soon, but I thought they would send out a home health person because Dad is basically homebound - every time I got it in my head that his doc might send him to my clinic, I made myself dismiss it because what were the odds?! But I have had several anxiety spikes about this in the last few weeks, as he worked out the details to get in somewhere, and now my fears are real. I had a panic attack earlier, like shaking, couldn't breath, called The BFF, took a Xanax and tomorrow I will call my counselor and make an emergency appointment for next week. As for my PT appt tomorrow, I may cancel, if I don't feel any better by the time I get up, because the thought of going in there and having everyone be like, "Oh, I met your dad. He's great," is too overwhelming. He did tell me the name of his therapist and at least it isn't any of my therapists, no one I've ever worked with before. I'm not even worried about medical confidentiality like I was the one time my mom went there and K gave everyone a big speech about remembering their confidentiality with patients and then specifically pulled my therapist aside to explain that under no circumstances, not even for casual talk, was she allowed to mention me to my mom. It's not even that with Dad, it's just the thought of him in my clinic, charming all these people, and...okay, you all know I have a familial father/brother relationship/friendship with K, where he tends to introduce me as his foster-sister to people, and even though he knows everything about me and my dad, the thought of the two of them interacting, the thought of 'the family we make' crossing over with the family I was given...it's all too much.
/deep breath/. This is not really the issues that are why I am in counseling, but it will be nice to have someone to talk this out with that isn't my sister, who deals with her own issues with my dad. I'm going to watch some Firefly now and eat a shitton of Cheezits and worry about the rest of it tomorrow. Also, reminder to self that once I chill the fuck out, I want to post about how zen I found the aquarium in Chicago and the crazy Ebola-Steve McGarret-Chad Michael Murray dream I had the other night. But not now...now I just breath and try not to think about how good taking like 3 Xanax sounds.