Habits and Being Tied Down

I'm sitting in bed, in the bedroom I have at my parents' house.  Dad is in his bed in my parents' bedroom next door.  I can hear him through the wall making the occasional groan in his sleep.  Sometimes the groans are more frequent, almost on every breath he takes.  When they get like that, I find it a little bit distressing.  It makes me sad.

I'm sitting here, engaging in my own form of self-harm: picking at parts of my skin until quite often it bleeds - spots, blemishes, imperfections, old wounds that have partially healed.  I look at the damage I have done and wonder what drives me to do it and how I am stuck in the compulsive, vicious cycle of picking to relieve anxiety, then feeling worse about myself when I make blemishes ten times worse or create new ones.  I think about all the things that have gone wrong.  I think about texting someone, but don't know who.  I laugh at the thought of someone wanting to get to know me, the guy I met at the bus stop when I was uncharacteristically wearing bright pink lipstick and a new leopard-print coat.  I think of him looking me up on Facebook and seeing the profile picture of me with skeleton make-up for Halloween.  I laugh at the idea that I might have a fun image, the image of someone who is carefree and confident.  I cringe at the idea of him discovering the real me, all sorrowful and intense, dark and cynically comic.

While writing this, I got side-tracked looking up compulsive skin picking (CSP) online.  I've known for several years that it's a problem and moreover one that is an actual condition/disorder, has a name (dermatillomania) and potential treatment.  I've just never got around to speaking to my doctor about it.  I suppose partly because it doesn't significantly affect other areas of my life to a degree that has forced me to take action.  It's also partly out of shame.

While being side-tracked looking up CSP, I then had to help my Mum as she cleaned and changed my Dad, then got him positioned for the night.  He was rolled onto his side so she could change and clean him and I was holding his back so that he couldn't roll back.  He tried to, several times.  Once we were finished, we sat him up, bolstered by pillows, so that Mum could feed him one of his supplementary drinks - a bottle of approximately 250ml, taken in 20ml servings.  You can imagine the patience that requires.  He also takes at least 2 swallows for every cap-ful.  Because Dad has been bed-ridden for at least a month now, he has developed 2 pressure sores on his behind.  The base of his spine protrudes in a way that looks painful, because he has no muscle or fat left to offer any padding.  I inherited my rather substantial backside from my Dad and it makes me sad seeing how little flesh he has left.  Mum was openly concerned about the pressure sores, because they won't readily heal while he is still on his back all the time.  She had put a dressing on them and once he had finished his drink, we had to turn him onto his other side, then bolster him with more pillows, some behind his back, to try and stop him from rolling onto his back.  When finished, I kissed Mum goodnight and came to bed to finish writing.  She went to bed and I could hear her just minutes later chastising my Dad for trying to roll back.

I just want to cry.  I don't know how my Mum has the strength to continue.  It's so hard seeing my Dad in this state, but almost harder when my Mum speaks to him firmly or harshly.  I know it's tough love, but I find it quite difficult.  I also know how stressful it must be for her.  It's a double-edged sword, her being a nurse.  It means she is able to care for him in a way that a non-medical person wouldn't be able to.  It also means she has been able to manage without outside help for as long as she has.  But it also means that she worries more, because she knows from experience what the consequences of certain situations can be and also means that she has higher standards and therefore greater expectations of any other nursing staff that may come in to help Dad.  The situation is just awful.  I find it emotionally draining, but I would feel awful if my Mum was dealing with this all alone.

When I reading about CSP earlier, I discovered that there are various causes regarding what causes it, with some suggesting neurological factors.  One theory is a psychological one, which suggests that "picking behavior is a result of repressed rage felt toward authoritarian parents. A similar theory holds that overbearing parents can cause the behavior to develop in their children." [Source: Wikipedia.]  Yikes. I can certainly relate to that to some degree and I know I have a sensitivity, especially when feeling low, to the way my Mum speaks sometimes when she is being harsh.  I probably need years of therapy.

I don't know what this post is about anymore.  I just felt the need to write and then found my mind jumping from one subject to another, in an attempt to make sense of what I'm feeling.  Another friend announced his engagement today.  I texted The Mrs saying that I felt like life was leaving me behind.  Her reply was that it isn't and that these people are just getting tied down.  I would happily be tied down by a loving boyfriend right now.  The reality of being tied down to depression, monotony, helplessness, duty, stress, grief, guilt and insecurity is not really working right now.