And then I realized: you don't have to understand/dissect/analyze/justify/deny/accept/conquer everything you're feeling. You just have to feel it. And it's okay. And one day you'll feel something else. This is important. This is life. This is love. This is temporary.

Good Days

There will be more good days.  Today was a good day.

This is my mantra. I keep repeating it over and over.  I feel like I'm lying to myself, but it is a true statement.  I wish I could get behind it with my heart.

But fear and fatigue are what keep my heart in a weary place.  Dad's appointment was great, despite the scare.  Ada's appointment was great, and the first step to treating her chronic lung issues.  Despite the ongoing battle.  Everything today had a positive outcome.  But I'm still so tired. And I catch myself feeling sorry for myself that all of the good things anymore have to be preceded by struggle. But I  don't want to feel that way, because, as I keep reminding myself, at least I'm still having GOOD. No matter what it takes to get there.  I would struggle for the rest of my life to just know there would be good at the end. So why can't I stop feeling so dark? I still have good in me and around me.

There will be more good days, and today was a good day.

I'll be a friend and a fuck-up and everything

I had a wonderful day planned today with my best friend.  Quality time with someone I adore to relax and forget about all the things stressing me out and weighing me down right now.  And then Ada got sick and I have to spend the day exhausted and packing up boxes and feeling sorry for myself.  Also feeling like a loser for feeling resentful toward my sick child.  Who does that? Me.  I just needed something today. To forget that I'm moving in 5 days and have a whole house to pack up.  To forget that parenting sucks as it is right now, and I'm terrified how much worse this transition into a new home is going to make it.  To forget that my anxiety is at a peak right now and giving me insomnia again and that I'm only narrowly avoiding full on depression through distractions and alcohol. And to forget that I still can't quite make sense of my life after all the events of this year.

So I don't get to forget today.  Instead I get to continue cutting ties with my home and feeling like I can't make one decision where I don't end up letting someone down. Sometimes I do the wrong things and I know it, but do it anyways.  But most of the time I'm really trying to do the right thing, and the results still somehow leave me feeling like a failure.  That's how I feel today.  Just like a total fucking failure at everything.  I want to be everything everyone needs me to be, I really do.  More than anything. But I'm just so fucking tired.  Tired to the bone. I am not graceful at meeting the needs of the people I love, nor am I graceful at meeting the needs of myself. I'm always stumbling my way through my relationships and obligations, so stuck inside my head about whether I'm doing it well enough, that I think I'm missing out on a lot of their rewards.

I just can't explain the exhaustion I feel every day lately.  I think even if I were sleeping 10 hours each night I would still feel this way.  Because only a fraction of it is physical.  I'm so hoping after this move is over and we start settling in, the new year will bring some breathing room.  I've  felt scattered before,  but I've never in my life been so keenly aware of the desperate need to get my shit together, but be so lost as to where to start and how to get there.

I know I've drawn myself far inside
Where you can't  reach anymore
I watch you from the safety of myself

I think you feel the expanding distance
But I don't know if you don't say
I'll rest my head against the cooling glass

I wanted everything to fix itself
Because I became too tired
It was easier just to shatter instead

The moments when I find myself feeling
Are the heaviest ones to bear
Their weight radiating tiny fractures

I've already compromised and been compromised
The blame is internally anchored
I just want to know there is hope for me

There is no title for this

So what, you wanted to see what you are made of
So what, you wanted to know just who you are
You weren't a complete stranger to yourself
So you should have known
Should have known you weren't the kind
Should have known your void runs deep
Should have known you couldn't do it
Couldn't leave your heart out of this
The first time you realized that there were choices
Just lying around in wait
For you to make for you to notice for you to take 
For you
Dizzy and drunk on wasted years
Angry with the course
Distraction and unfamiliarity
To make you forget yourself
But you are nothing if not passionate
You are nothing without fantasy
You are everything you are trying to conquer
For fear and desperation
But don't forget
You still exist
Outside of definitions
So what, you found a trove of complexities
So what, you found new endings and beginnings inside
You'll grapple with your completion forever
This you've always known

Too Much

I've spent the weeks since my dad's diagnosis vacillating between bathroom lock-in cries or drinking way too much at night before unloading spontaneous,  drunken, emotional torrential outpouring on my poor husband, and trying desperately to stifle the shocking rage that can suddenly overtake me in less than 30 seconds lately.  You know, so I don't end up unemployed and unable to raise my daughter from a prison cell.  The anger - white hot, constantly simmering, unshakeable anger.  I havent felt this since I lost my mind after giving birth.  And I'm not sleeping again.  I recognize these red flags. I remember them because I'm not all that far removed from the first time depression swallowed me up.  And I know I have to start thinking about getting help with it again.  This year has just defeated me already. I keep waving the white flag - I'm not too proud - but it doesn't give a flying fuck.

I had to stay home from work today to take care of my sick toddler.  And just as I was really feeling like I was rocking this mom thing, I find out that as always, my absence was treated as an apocolypse and simply nobody could be spared for 2 hours to fill in for me.  So, I apologize that I have a sick child I'd like to care for (being her mom and all) because she can't go to grandma's since grandma is busy taking care of my cancer ridden father. Congratulations on fucking me over more than life already has this year.  I hope you sleep well enough for the both of us tonight. Because I don't.  And I don't even have the "luxury" of taking a guilt free day off to care for my child, let alone a day to myself to just be able to feel what I feel right now without an audience.  No wonder I can't process anything right now.  I have no time alone.

I'm running away with my thoughts now.  Basically I just give up right now.  Life is testing me this year and I am scared and bitter and alone and worried about when things will ever be good again.  I am tired and need time to breathe and rest my heart and brain.  But the universe doesn't want to give me that right now.

2014

When I woke up at 5:30 this morning I heard birds chirping already. It made me mad. My immediate and very first thought of the day was,  "Why are they chirping? Don't they know?"  Of course they don't know.

The birds don't know that I started 2014 with a surprise and unwanted pregnancy. Or that a month later when I was finally getting used to the idea, my ultrasound showed no flicker of a heartbeat and I had to have a doctor scrape out the embryo my body was too stupid to recognize had died.

The birds don't know my favorite Great Aunt was just two months ago put away in a nursing home for the rest of her life with Alzheimers so bad she doesn't know who is alive or dead anymore.

The birds don't know my dad was just yesterday diagnosed with cancer and that I think I might suffocate to death just thinking that I might lose him already.

No, they don't know. They don't know it's 2014 and they don't know how much their eagerness to greet the day makes me baffled and bitter. They don't know I'm jealous of them for their wings.

Thoughts From A Mom

"Behind every great kid is a mom who's pretty sure she's screwing it up."

I read this on Facebook the other day.  It was on a day when I particularly needed to read it.  And it's stuck with me ever since.  Sometimes I keep repeating it to myself like a mantra.  On that day particularly, I was feeling overwhelmed by my complete and utter failure to please my daughter or persuade her to do anything at all that needed to be done. She wouldn't eat anything I made for her, she wouldn't take a halfway decent nap, she wouldn't stop crying for her binky even though I'm trying so hard to start a slow process of separating her from it, while realizing I might not have the heart to do it.  (Yes, that will be MY 12 year old kid with a pacifier.)  Parenting is hard.  It's also amazing.  But wow is it tough.  It's amazing what a beating your self confidence and self worth can take from such a tiny little human. 

Parenting is hard whether you're a mom OR a dad, working or no.  But all I know is what my experience is.  I am a working mom.  It is freaking tough.  And I only have one child, currently, so there's that.  I feel a certain level of accomplishment that I no longer take medication to keep from losing my shit like I did when Ada was born up until about 8 months old.  That was a bad, dark, scary period of my life, and I kind of can't believe I was so out of control of myself.  I have a lot of regret and guilt about pretty much missing out on all the good things about her infancy.  I always will.  But what's done is done, and I can 100% truthfully say that I am a relatively normal person now, without any pharmaceutical aides.  (As normal as I could ever be, anyway.)  That is a good feeling.  I kind of didn't feel like I would ever be myself again.  Now I am myself, and in a lot of ways, a new self. 

The problem is that there are some things I don't know how to make room for anymore.  My body can adjust to rarely getting more than a couple hours of sleep at a time throughout the night, my schedule can adjust so that I have just a little extra time between leaving work and getting dinner on the table, then finding some time to play with my swiftly growing darling daughter before carting her off to bed, just to wake up and do it all over again.  All in all, spending approximately 4 hours per weekday with her, which makes me incredibly sad when I dwell on it. Bring on the never ending, always evolving mom-guilt.  So then after she's tucked in for the night, I get a couple hours to veg out on the couch with my husband and catch up on some tv shows.  Which is always enjoyable, and I look forward to that time.  But as much as I tell myself I don't need it, there are days when I realize I can't remember the last time I actually had a significant amount of time with myself and myself alone.  (What? You're thinking of yourself?  HA!  Oh, sure, just pile that additional guilt right here on my plate, which seems to never run out of space for it.)  I really can't remember.  At all.  I'm always, always trying to make sure that everyone gets a little of my attention, the best I can.  And that's hard enough without adding myself into the mix.  How are we supposed to do it?  I'm as positively certain that moms deserve the title of "superhero" as I am positively certain that each and every mom holds that opinion of every mother but herself.  It's not in our DNA anymore to recognize our own successes.  We just look at the other moms and wonder why we can't be doing it like that.  But they're looking right back at us with the same question.  And the cycle continues and we never feel like we're doing it "right", no matter how much of ourselves we give in trying.

Here's the thing - for as much as my insides get beat up now days, I cry less often than I ever have.  Not because I don't feel like I could.  But because I don't have the time or the privacy or the will.  I've gotten tougher than I ever thought I could be. For better AND worse.  Sometimes I feel like it's ruining parts of my identity as wife and friend.  That worries me.  I keep saying I'll do better, I'll specifically devote more of myself (wherever THAT is going to come from) to being a more attentive partner, more affectionate, more patient.  I keep saying it, I keep making note of the blaring alarms in the back of my mind that tell me it NEEDS to be done before it's too late.  And then the day is over and I have to promise I'll try tomorrow.  I don't want it to be like this.  I hate feeling this lack of feeling in these areas.  And it's just more guilt.  More, more, more.  I just have so much going to this little person that relies on me for everything in the world, even though she clearly doesn't want to.  I'm not usually "present" anymore at any given time.  When I'm not physically taking care of her, my mind is churning with all the things I need to do for her tomorrow, next week, next year.  How can I make things even better for her?  What should I be doing to aide in her development?  Am I giving her enough of anything at all?  It's truly never ending.  And in this process, my marriage gets shoved farther to the back of the stove so that I can focus on the child-rearing not boiling over.  Then there's yet another thing I'm failing at - being a wife.  And instead of being depressed about it, I end up just feeling annoyed, all the time.  And it's really stemming from annoyance with myself - that I can't do everything, and be everything, and make everything work.  But it gets displaced toward people who don't deserve it.  And I am scared I'm going to pay the price for it, but I genuinely don't know how to pull it all together.  And this is why my mind is NEVER quiet.  There is always something to worry over.  And it's always something I'm not doing well enough.

All of this being said, I love being a mom.  It's made my life so incredibly full and satisfying.  I keep hoping that with enough time, I'll figure out the balance of it all, and that it will come before I lose something to make room for everything else.  I know hoping isn't going to make it so, but at this very moment it's all I can do.  Time always seems to be the key.  But time is the thing that feels like it's slipping through my fingers.  My baby girl is not a baby girl anymore.  I'm turning 30 in a month.  Everything is getting older. I just more than anything want to keep every single moment preserved in a book so that I can give them all the attention they deserve, eventually.  But I can't do that, and I'm just trying to figure out how to be the best I can be for everyone in my life.  Who knew that would be so hard?  Should it be?  Is it just me who can't get a handle on it?  I don't know.  Maybe I never will know for sure.  But at the very, very least, I can tell everyone that I am truly trying to figure it out.  Bear with me.

Dear

The wheels have been turning again lately.  There are no more chemical cocktails coated in a little pink casing that I take every night before bed to keep the wheels idle.  To keep them from running me over.  But I don't feel like they're running me over anymore when they start turning.  They don't scare me anymore.  I've made progress and I've come out of a long, dark tunnel just a little different, a little better even.  And I don't need the little pink pill to protect me from myself anymore.  So when I say the things I have to say, they are coming from me.  Real, authentic me.

 

I can feel again.  Not everything beads up on my surface and rolls off anymore.  And I want it this way.  It was a nice break, not having to be so overwhelmingly affected by life. I needed that reprieve, and it allowed me to step back from it all, to breathe and to take a rest.  It allowed me to re-center and to recharge, and now that I've come back from that break, I'm better equipped to handle life's challenges, and the feelings that arise with all of them. I am more mature, more seasoned, more aware, and more durable.  I thought that voluntarily checking out with the help of a pill taken every day for the 5 months that I did, was a sign of weakness and inability to handle my own life, but it turns out it was a sign of strength.  And for once I was able to wave away those preconceived notions and rise above them.  And now I am here, feeling my feelings, thinking my thoughts, laughing and crying from an unobstructed core once again.  It's taken me a little time to get sturdy footing here on land again, and sometimes I can still feel a little shaky, but I know that's okay, and I know it's the right way to face myself again.  This time kinder and wiser.

 

I need you to hear me.  I need you to really listen, and really hear me.  I need you to see me.  I need you to look up from all of the noise and distractions and entertainment, and I need you to really see me.  I never feel those things.  We talk to each other and we hear the words, and we look at each other and see the faces, but that's not really listening or seeing.  I'm still learning how to communicate - in general, and also with you specifically.  Everyone has a unique way in which they need to be heard and understood, and just as I feel you haven't figured out my needs here, I know I haven't figured out yours.  I will continue to try.  In this moment, all I can do is speak from my own place of need. 

 

I need you to focus on just me sometimes.  I feel that I am always sharing you with a computer screen.  I don't feel that you ever look up and see me, and all that I do.  I don't feel my efforts and work to keep our family chugging along are validated or even realized by you.  And then sometimes I feel that maybe you don't want to look up and see how much I always have on my plate, because it's more convenient not to.  And I don't know which one is more painful to me - to not be noticed, or to be disregarded.  And I don't even know for sure what you really see or hear or feel, and what you don't.  But what I feel is invisible and more than anything, underappreciated.  I have balls in the air every day of my life now that we have a family, and I only ask for your help when I think that one of them is going to drop.  What my heart aches for more than anything is for you to look up and see it sometimes before I have to ask.  Just see me.  See the full plate I'm always balancing and rearranging to make room for more.  Acknowledge that I am working far longer than the 8 hours I sit behind a desk each day, and far harder before 8:30 in the morning and after 5:00 in the afternoon.  I love building our family, but I need your help to do it.  And part of that help is seeing me, hearing me, and by doing that, knowing me more deeply and fully, and being in tune with me enough to reach out and steady me before I have to tell you I'm stumbling.  That's what I want more than anything in the world.  That's what I fantasize about.  That's what my heart braces itself for.

 

I appreciate you. I want you to know that.  I appreciate and I love you.  You genuinely want me to be happy, and I love that.  You make sure all our bills our paid, that I have enough food in the freezer to make our dinners throughout the week, and enough beer in the fridge to soften the edges of the work day, and I appreciate that.  You take care of the yard work and take out the garbage when we have tacos even if it's not full, and then you let Ada help you load the dishwasher.  You fix things, and change light bulbs and you let me nap for as long as I want to on the weekends.  And all of these things I love and appreciate much more than the words on this screen will ever communicate to you.  I also love that you like good music and want to share concerts and bottles of wine with me, that our senses of humor have cozied up to each other in such a perfect, inseparable and nearly telepathic way, and that you still check to make sure sometimes that I'm not really mad at you when I'm giving you a hard time.  These things make my life fuller, easier and more enjoyable, and nobody but you could offer them adequately.

 

I know that I can be better at letting you know I appreciate you and love you, and even see you and hear you.  I don't always give as much as I think I deserve to be given.  And I want to take more personal responsibility to make sure I more regularly show my gratitude for you as well.  I just beg you to read these words and know that I'm reaching for you now.  I need you, and I need things from you, and I hope that you will try for me.  I'm not strong enough to always let the love I feel overshadow the negative things I feel, and I wish that I was.  But I truly believe that to know beyond the shadow of a doubt that you are making an effort for me, that you are seeing me and all that I do in my part of our family and marriage, will make it easier for me to learn how to overcome my own faults. 

 

Don't forget about me. There is a me that is not just your wife, your friend, the mother of your children, and your co-habitant.  All of those things contribute to who I am, but they don't encompass all of me, even as large and important a portion as they are.  I'm still an individual, a woman, a work in progress, and I'm going to be evolving for the rest of my life.  My needs will shift and grow and diminish, depending.  I need you to keep seeing me through all of it, and I promise to keep seeing you, so that we don't realize one day that all we're holding onto are fossils of each other, and how we once existed together.

 

Oh, hi 2013.

It seems like I've fallen into a pattern of updating every 2 months. I guess it could be worse. It could definitely be better. At any rate, it's a new year. My daughter is turning a year old in less than a month, and I don't know where the time went.

Things have been really good for the most part. Ada is more fun and entertaining every day. I've started a new position at work which I love, and have wanted for a long time. I look forward to most days during the week and am just generally more content. There was a time when Ada was tiny that I felt the ground had been yanked from under me and I'd never find my footing again. But now I feel that everything has fallen into place so amazingly and I love each day's challenges and rewards.

Ryan and I have tentatively decided that come June, we will stop actively trying to NOT add another little human to our family. Assuming we are still in an ok financial situation. It doesn't mean I'm going to start charting my ovulation and basal temperature fluctuations like a crazy person again just yet, but I won't be taking my pill anymore. I'm excited to be nearing that time again. And nervous of course. But 100% happy.

So that's where I'm at right now. At the end of the day, I'm in a good place right now and feeling fulfilled and confident. I'm going to ride it out as long as I possibly can.

I'm Still Alive!

Holy abandoned blog. It's been a long time. Contrary to what it seems, I've thought about writing an entry many, many times over the past months. I just generally don't have time. And when I do, I'm too tired. Things have been happening though. Life has been chugging along.

Ada is 9 months old. What?! 9 months! I don't even know how the heck we got here so fast. She is so amazing. And she's getting to be such a funny, beautiful little person. She has the best personality, and she just brightens up my whole heart every day. She is constantly amazing me with so many things. She's so smart, and she's so determined. She is also probably going to be the most stubborn person that ever lived. I didn't think anyone could be more stubborn than me, but I fear for what the teenage years will bring, if these 9 months have been any indication. Right now it's usually hilarious, but there will come a point when it is less hilarous and more the reason I throw myself off the roof of my house. :)

I have officially been taking Paxil for two months now. It has pretty much changed my world. When I think about the place I was in before, it scares me. It was bad. And it's a great relief that I can look back on it now and think, "How effed up WAS I??? Whoa". I handle everything pretty much in stride now. I roll with the punches. I deal with things as they come, and I don't let them crush me. It's a pretty huge feat for me. One I never really thought I would be able to master. But these past two months have been completely different for me. Life doesn't feel like a plastic bag over my head anymore. I am enjoying it. Now that I'm responding like a normal, mentally healthy person to the challenges that I face, I realize that I have absolutely come to love being a mother more than anything in the world. It is phenomenal. Even with all the tough parts. I just feel that there is no amount of freedom, travel, full nights of sleep or hours spent in front of the computer that will ever again be worth even a fraction of what the experience of being Ada's mommy is worth. I love it. I can't imagine that I was ever not a parent. Everything before seems so shallow in a way. Life now is so rich and fulfilling. All because of this little 20 pound bundle of energy that has only been here for 9 months. That is an incredible thing, isn't it? And a little secret I've been trying to keep to myself, because I think most people would call me crazy, is that lately I just keep thinking about having another one. If we were in a better financial situation at the moment, I would be more serious about it. I know Ada isn't even a year old yet. I just can't describe how much I love this job. It's so exciting to think of creating another little person that I love so much more than everything in the world. I am addicted to the love that I feel for my child. (No Robert Palmer jokes, please. You're better than that.)

Last month my therapist and I mutually agreed that I seem to be in a very good place since I started coming for counseling, and since I've started my prescription. So I no longer go for weekly counseling sessions. We agreed that I will only come in if and when I feel like I need a little tune up, or if something starts feeling overwhelming again. I'm so happy to have reached this point. And it didn't take nearly as long as I thought it was going to. I love that my medication allows me to let things roll off my back and not get so overwhelmed by things. But the longer I'm on it, I'm not sure that I'm always recognizing when I am legitimately upset by something. It sort of takes all the sharp edges off of every emotion. It takes a hell of a lot to make me cry anymore, and that has its pros and cons. I don't know if this is how normal is supposed to feel or if I'm not fully feeling my feelings when things bother me. Today I feel a little down about a couple of things, but it's kind of like I know they're there, and it's nagging at me, but I can't fully bring myself to examine them enough to figure out whether they are important enough to discuss. My Psychiatrist said that a lot of people on this medication describe themselves as feeling just "whatever" about most things. Like "I don't care" a lot of times. And although that's pretty much what I needed, because I was at the total opposite end of the spectrum before, when it comes to legitimate things that may be upsetting me, I slightly worry that I'm not giving them due credit because of that. And it's still important to work things out if they don't feel right. I don't know. It's a little weird trying to sort out this new disposition I find myself in. It's largely unfamiliar territory for me, not being so incredibly affected by everything. Maybe I just have to get used to what it feels like to be able to deal with things. How horrible does that sound? True though.

Forward Momentum

This week is therapy appointment number three.  I think it's going well. Mostly for right now I think it's the having a plan in motion that is keeping me above water. I still have two weeks befor I see the Psychiatrist and start on an antidepressant. But in the meantime, my therapist is beginning to help me learn to surrender control in certain areas, which I desperately need to do if I ever want to not feel like one big wound up rubber band ball. So far this has entailed allowing Ryan to put Ada to bed three times per week. So far so good, although I still have a minor panic attack each time. I'll get another test this Saturday when we go out for our anniversary and my mom puts her to bed. Yikes.

Other areas of life right now are okay, if not a little daunting. I've decided to start trying to find a new job. Which is hard to make myself do after 8 years of accumulated comfort. Also the fact that I do plan to have another baby sometime before Ada is 3, so I'm a little nervous about that. But the truth is I have to do it. My current situation is making me unhappy. Just plain unhappy. It's time to face change.  I would like to have found something new by year's end, but I'm not positive that will work out. What I can't do is make any rash decisions, because we need two constant incomes. But I'd really like a fresh start away from the negativity and effed up dynamics that unfortunately seem to have to overshadow plain work. I'm not a happy person there. I hate every second of it anymore. Not to mention that if I even think about this being the last job I ever have, I have failed at life. I think my lack of confidence is why I'm still there at all. Yet another issue to tackle at therapy. But I need a new path. And I've realized it's work which is eating up a very large percentage of my satisfaction with my life. So it's up to me to change it. The people who make me feel badly inside the office have no control outside of it. So I'm going to stay outside of it.

I feel like next year will be a lot about personal change and goals. And I feel I'm on a good path to accomplish that. I hope I'm right.

Tomorrow

Tomorrow is my first therapy appointment. I'm a lot more nervous than I thought I'd be. When I made the appointment I was so desperate for relief. So anxious for help. It was like a piece of heaven imagining sitting down on that couch and spewing forth the longest, possibly incoherent, ramble of all of my woes and begging for something to help me right this second. However, ever since I made that appointment, it's like things have been noticeably better. To the point where now I'm sitting here the day before my appointment, thinking, "do I really need to do this?". But I know the answer is yes.

I suspect a couple of things going on here. Since I made my appointment, I've known in my brain that help is around the corner, and it has made things easier to deal with in my day to day. So I've been better able to cope. Better able to not let the world crash down on me when Ada only sleeps for 35 minutes, or Ryan spends 3 hours on Saturday morning playing video games while I'm confined to the couch holding a baby and reading a book on my iphone during her catnaps. And then repeats the cycle a couple of hours later. Usually it makes me feel like my life is spiraling down the toilet. But this past week I've been surprised at how I've rolled with the punches. Only briefly yesterday did I have to go upstairs with Ada for a little bit because I felt the panicky, suffocating tightness rising up in my chest, and the tears starting. I talked myself down pretty quickly though, and we moved on to other things. In some psychopathic way, I was relieved to have that moment, because it made me feel like I do, in fact, still need this appointment tomorrow.

The other thing I suspect is that I'm just doing what I always do when I'm nervous about something, or out of my comfort zone. My mind suddenly plays a game called, "everything is fine, you don't need change" because I do fear change. So my brain tries to convince me that I've solved whatever problem caused me to seek help in the first place, and that I no longer need to face this big thing that has been looming. It's sort of a self preservation measure, I think, to keep me safe in my comfort zone. But that in itself is something that therapy will help me with. So, fail. Fail, brain, fail. I'm not falling for it this time, and I'm going to therapy anyways, so suck it. You can't hide in my head anymore.

I've realized that even when I am doing pretty well, relatively speaking, I'm still just constantly in a state of tension. That's my anxiety in full effect. I don't really know what it's like to feel truly relaxed. It's like my insides are just always tightly wound, and even when I'm appearing relaxed on the outside, I'm a chaotic mess underneath, and everything is in overdrive. This is why I keep myself awake so often with the most random, unnecessary dialogue in my brain, just constant chatter up there about any and everything. And the problem with the dialogue in my brain is that it never needs to stop to take a breath.

At any rate, I'm nervous about going tomorrow. But I know deep down it's the most right thing I've done in a while. And that feels good. I just never imagined myself getting to this point. I don't know. It makes me sad that I'm so sad, so often. I didn't want to be this person, and I let it go for too long. I know I'm taking the steps to change it now, but I regret wasting so much time and life being so much more unhappy than I needed to be. You can't get it back.

Personal victories

I did it. I made the phone call I've been avoiding for so long. I have an appointment with a therapist a week from Tuesday. I feel good about it. Optimistic and proud of myself. Two things I can't recall feeling at all in the last several months or more. It needed to be done. Ada and I had a very, very rough morning on Thursday, and I felt sick to my stomach most of the day about how my depression is affecting her. The enormous personal responsibility I feel to get help for her sake maybe more than my own drove me to pick up the phone. And my mother begging me to do it helped too. I hate when she is constantly worried sick about me. That's part of my character too-I just can't stand causing stress in anyone else. I will always absorb it all myself first, of I can. But lately I've been leaning on my mom a lot when things are really bad in my head and she has been carefully trying to push me to seek professional help. It's become clear that I'm still suffering postpartum depression on addition to anxiety and oc tendencies. Those things I've dealt with even before I ever had Ada. But since having her, I haven't ever really felt like myself again. 

Before Ryan and I got married, I went to therapy for a couple months to try and work out some trust and relationship issues I had because of my family. Some of it helped, but thinking back on it now, I realize clearly two things. One, I hadn't become aware yet of all the things in my brain and behavior contributing to my constant unhappiness which require professional assistance. I am aware of a ton more of them now. I'm also about 6 or 7 years older and wiser now. Secondly, I wasn't truly ready to open myself up then and accept the help I truly needed. I am now. So ready. In fact I don't know where to start when I get there. The embarrassment and reservations are gone now. I just desperately want relief and a brighter future. I need confidence that I can raise my daughter well, and not hurt her because of my own mental health issues. I want to sleep again without battling the relentless and rambling thoughts.    

This is the first step. And just having it behind me now has left me with more calm than I've felt in nearly 6 months. I think things are going to be okay. And I'm willing to work my ass off for that. 

Baby steps

It's hard and scary when you realize you need to start over. When you realize people and things in your life are no longer aiding your growth and vice versa. When you see all that's left between you is a shell in the shape of past and memories, and a fleck of remaining effort to make it seem like it isn't so hollow. But I've been in this place before and I do believe it's helped me to come to the realization it's time to let go much more quickly now. It's time to make room for the next people and experiences which will shape and teach me. 

So much of what I've been going through lately has had dual purpose. It's helping me pinpoint where I need the most help, and showing me who I can expect to help me through it. And it's been incredibly painful to realize how lonely I actually am, but I feel like its for the better long term. Sometimes you miss something really amazing because you're not looking for it. You don't realize you need to. You don't consider that you have the room for it because you thought all those slots were filled. So while it hurts like hell to finally see how actually open those slots are, at least they now have potential. 

So many things have been churned and upheaved in me, and now as the dust is just beginning to settle, I have to figure out how all the pieces fit together. Because they've changed. I have hope that this new picture, once revealed, will be even more vibrant and inspiring. I am optimistic about it, as there have been very few times I've gone through a time like this with nothing to show for it in the end. But right now I haven't put the pieces together yet. I'm just beginning to breathe again. To be able to fall asleep on my own again. To have more than two days in a row when I don't end up sobbing on a pile of laundry. So I'll happily continue to take this one day at a time until even more answers come to light. And I'll happily accept the necessity of starting back at square one in order to embrace a better future. One where I am as important as the things and people I love. To them, and to me. 

Enough

I realize that I need to learn how to be as selfish and self serving as everyone fucking else.  But see, my conscious gets the best of me.  Which is useless.  Because trying to be a selfless person gets you nowhere.  I'm so sick of it.  Too bad it's a habit at this point.  Because I would change it in a blink of an eye if I didn't have such an issue with guilt.  And why the hell do I feel guilty about anything?  It's not like I ever get my efforts reciprocated.  Yes, I'm throwing a tantrum.  I'm at least taking the opportunity to do THAT for myself.  And screw you if you have a problem with it.  

That is all.

More

Fact: It is physically impossible for me to put in a full day of work, make my house sparkle, put dinner on the table, tend to Ada's every need and be a perfect wife with full make-up and not a hair out of place, while also getting in a work-out every day to make sure you can't tell I ever had a baby.

 

Also fact:  I desperately want to be physically able to do all of these things and I feel worthless because I can't.  I just can't let it go.  And sometimes I wonder, since I can't ever sleep at night anymore anyways, why don't I just utilize those hours between 9pm and 5:30am to BE able to do all of those things????  Huh???  Huh????  Oh, because it's crazy.  And unrealistic.  And unhealthy. 

 

It's funny to me how I can recognize all of these things as fact, but I cannot change my mind-set about them. 

 

Every time Ryan sweeps the kitchen floor or wipes down the kitchen counters - Housekeeping Fail.

 

Every time I let him take care of Ada so I can take a nap (unsuccessfully) or try to work out, or take a breather - Mother Fail. 

 

Every time I walk around all day in yoga pants and no make-up, too tired to try and tone up the unsightly skin pouch that became my lower abdomen since having our daughter (yes, I can now be officially considered a Marsupial) - Wife Fail. 

 

Every time I think about how much I resent working now and how much it overwhelms me to have to balance working with mothering - Woman Fail.  

 

And I'd rather not even get into the massive LIFE Fail I feel about being at my current job for the last 8 years (read: almost a decade) and having no foreseeable opportunities to change and actually do something with my life other than work an hourly job I've had since before I was even legally allowed to drink in a bar.  The regret I feel for not caring more and working harder to achieve something when I was still young and free....  Kids, follow through with college.  Don't rack up stupid amounts of debt on your credit cards assuming that you'll be in a fine position to pay it off down the road.  You don't have to know what you want to do for the rest of your life - just do something worthwhile now so that you CAN do what you want to do for the rest of your life when you figure it out. 

 

Everything just feels like failure to me.  No matter what I do.  I can't do anything for myself without an enormous avalanche of guilt burying me alive. I spend 40 hours each week at a job I don't even want to be at anymore, really loathe being at, as a matter of fact, because I made a lot of stupid decisions a lot of years ago, and now I don't even have the option of staying with my daughter and cherishing the moments that are already passing so quickly. And the worst part is that I have no idea how to fix it.  I don't know how it's ever going to feel any better.

 

I have some days when I just cannot put on the face to cover all of this up.  And it's the worst at home.  When it's like that, I feel even more guilty because I know I'm making it harder on Ryan, but I can't muster up the energy to try and fake it.  I know he struggles, especially when I'm so down.  But it's also super hard for me to feel like I have to fake it most of the time.  I expect to have to try at work, around other family members, all of that.   It's always like that.  But my internal battles are putting too much stress on my husband, and so I have to try and absorb it at home too.  Because I know it's not fair of me.  But it's so hard to not have anyone to crumble to when I so often feel like I just want to crumble.  To just be held and told that I'm not a horrible person for not being able to sort this out on my own, and that I'm not ruining anyone else's life just because I can't get mine together during this period.  Because a lot of times I don't know if those things are true, and I don't really have anyone reassuring me.  And right now, I could really use it.

 

Truthfully, I'm a lot more scared about how I've been feeling for the past month then I admit to anyone.  And I'm a lot more scared that I don't know if or when it's going to get better.  I've never felt this much about this many things all at once.  My whole identity has been shuffled since becoming a mom, and I'm still trying to figure out who I'm becoming - it's only been 5 months.  I just don't know yet.  And that makes it all the more impossible for me to deal with any of this effectively.  I'm confused, and I'm scared, and I'm not seeing how I'm ever going to find a balance.  I'm trying really, really hard to see it.  I want to see it.  I'd give anything to see it.  I just can't right now.

Is this it?

It's been a while. It's now almost August and I've been back to work for almost two months exactly. I guess you can say I'm in a routine now. It's become just life again. But I'm working non stop now because Ada is 4 and a half months old, and my work doesn't stop when I clock out for the day. I have to say I'm exhausted. I've never had so much to do all the time. Not to mention the awful bout of insomnia I've been battling for a month now. It all adds up to basically make me crazy. I'm running on fumes every day, and sometimes it's okay, and other times I feel like I should be locked up in a mental institution. I wish I were joking. Ada is becoming such a little person. Nothing brings me more joy and laughter. I fall more in love with her every day. She is my constant, and the only tether I have to any form of sanity right now. If I couldn't count on seeing her big gummy smile saving me every day, I don't know what I'd do. Honestly. She is the greatest thing I could ever have imagined. And that's really important for me right now, because I sort of feel like everything else is falling apart. Some days she is the only thing that makes me happy. I'm having a really tough time being happy right now, is the thing. And the constant not sleeping is making it 1,000 times worse. I keep finding myself coming back to the same phrase in my mind, over and over. That this isn't the life I wanted. And I don't mean having a family - that is the thing I wanted all along. It's the being a working mom. Constantly having a running list of to-do's that I know I'll never catch up with. But that list keeps me from fully enjoying and focusing on the few precious hours of the day that I do have with my daughter during the week. I don't know. I pictured it differently in my mind before she was born. I was sure I'd be the type of person who would be fine wih working full time and being a mom. But I'm not. I'm not doing very well with it. I'm overwhelmed with guilt and chores. The fact that there is never enough time on the day suffocates me. I kind of hate it. And add to that the feeling of utter failure and weakness of being the one woman in this country who just can't handle a job AND a baby. I used to love working. Now I resent every minute of it for robbing me of so much time with my rapidly growing baby. And severely diminishing the quality of the time I do have with her. But I absolutely have no option of not working because our money situation is so bad and we have so much debt. I've never felt so trapped and smothered and hopeless. It's really no wonder I can't sleep anymore. I don't really know what to do. I am honestly taken aback by the complete and total rage I feel sometimes. And the resentment. The guilt. The envy of everyone who doesn't have to feel this every day. I need to see a therapist on my own. Ryan and I still need to see a therapist together to try and fix our issues in our marriage. But chalk that up to another of the many things we need but can't afford. I feel like everything is going to go to shit before we can. I've honestly just never felt this awful. And I don't know how it's going to change. Because as I said, this isn't the life I wanted. Some days I can do okay. But a lot of days re really really horrible, and I can't lift a finger out from under the weight of all I feel. I'm totally in over my head and I don't think I can dig myself out of this one.

12 Weeks My Arse

This is my last week of maternity leave.  It's already Wednesday.  I woke up this morning at 5:05, and felt pretty certain that I will now be awake until next Monday when I go back to work.  Forget about turning off my brain long enough to get any rest before then.  I am leaving my three month old daughter in the care of OTHER PEOPLE 40 hours per week.  How many freaking hours are in a week anyways?  Please hold while I consult my calculator because I am mathematically challenged.  ::pleasant hold music::

168.  168 hours in a week.  40 of which will be in daycare.  Approximately 63 hours spent sleeping, because my baby is an awesome sleeper, and sleeps more than I did during years 13 through 18.  Which leaves me with 65 hours with my baby each week.  Does this seem unfair, ridiculous, cruel, impractical, and any millions of other possible negative adjectives which fit this scenario, to anyone else?  She's a baby.  I'm a baby.  We need each other. 


I joke, but I'm seriously about to have a nervous breakdown.  I don't know if I can do this.  I can't even think about it for more than 5 minutes without getting tightness in my chest and racing thoughts, and a horrible lump in my throat.  What am I going to do?  I think it's horrible that mothers have to leave their tiny babies so early in this country to go back to work.  And I'm extremely resentful about it right now.  But I suppose that is for another post.


It is breaking my heart.  For three months I have been at her side nearly every moment.  I'm watching her grow and learn new things and get smarter and funnier and more affectionate and coordinated every day.  How the hell am I supposed to just leave all of that to someone else all day long now?  She's going to do so many things for the first time under someone else's care.  I'm jealous.  I'm hurt.  I'm guilty.  I'm completely unprepared.  I think this might kill me.  Is she going to feel completely abandoned all day and miss me terribly?  Is she going to not miss me at all eventually?  Which one will hurt worse?  I don't even know.  But what I do know is that out of my entire life, these last three months have been the most important, and the most meaningful, and now I feel like I'm going to voluntarily fail at my job as a mother, which I think is the most important job in the entire world.  How can I not, when I'm only getting one more day a week with my child than someone else is, when all the hours are totaled up?  I don't know if I've ever felt so low about anything in my life.


I know that eventually I'm going to adjust and this is going to become my normal routine.  But I want to go on record that I hate that.  I don't think it's natural, and I don't think it's even remotely right.  All it means is that I'm going to adapt to being a little bit colder and harder, and allow this switching off of my emotional need for constant contact with my baby to become automatic.  It sucks.  And a world which requires me to do that sucks.  


I admit that there are times during the day when my very demanding and high maintenance daughter will scream and cry no matter what I do, because she needs constant stimulation, and I have the thought, "I'm going back to work next week!!!!" rather joyously.  But that only lasts about 10 minutes.  I will admit that there is a part of me that is looking forward to getting back into the working game.  I have friends there, and I enjoy my job.  But it's just that all of these other emotions are outweighing those things.  It doesn't mean they aren't there, but they're being trumped by motherhood.  I will find enjoyment in going to work again eventually, but I just don't think I'll ever feel completely at ease with it again.  Everything has changed.  Everything.  I'm so different than I was three months ago.  And in a couple of years I'm going to get to do this all over again! 


Hopefully.   :)

Ada

Ada is here.  She has been here for three weeks.  Born March 12th at 1:24 a.m.  She is perfect.  She is beautiful and bright and incredibly smart already.  I suppose every parent says that, but I swear on all that is holy it's true.  She started smiling at me when she was 10 days old.  She is now three weeks and one day old, and she's starting to make noises and get super excited when I talk to her.  And when she smiles up at me with all those gums, kicking her legs and balling her tiny hands into fists with so much effort to talk back to me, most of the time I cry a little bit.  I've never felt anything like that.  And she's getting more responsive every day.  You may not believe me, but it's absolutely true.  She has some crazy level of understanding and ability to communicate, and when she looks at me, I've never felt so naked in every single facet of my being.  Those eyes are like nothing I have ever experienced.

The first two weeks were an adjustment like I've never ever had to work through before.  And don't get me wrong - I'm still adjusting every day.  But the difference is, during the first two weeks I cried and cried for my old life, my old routines, my old freedom, and I constantly wondered - silently and aloud - just WTF I was thinking.  How could I think that I would be able to do this?  So, so much regret.  And it was hard some days to get up and take care of her.  I know this is common for new moms, but damn that horrible darkness I felt some days.  And now, a day into week three, something seems to have changed.  I still have moments where I get overwhelmed, and I need to get away for a few moments.  But basically, I feel capable, I feel calm, and there is this absolutely incredible love growing inside of me for this little creature that I'm starting to just sit in awe of, and be totally amazed.  I was so scared I wasn't going to develop it in those first two weeks.  But it's starting to completely take me over.  And there are now an increasing number of moments throughout the day where I look down at her, and I am more excited than I have ever been in my entire life that we have so much ahead of us.  She is already bigger.  She's already more beautiful.  She's already changing so much.  I don't want to take a single moment for granted.

She is teaching me.  I am learning from her.  Sometimes it's really challenging to be alone with her all day long while Ryan works, and then have other challenges when he is home.  But part of the reason I'm feeling so much more comfortable recently is BECAUSE I have been spending so much time with her.  I'm learning about her - her personality, what she likes and doesn't like, what calms her and what makes her more upset, how she likes to be held, and what she's trying to tell me with her body language.  I'm by no means a pro at this yet.  I'm just learning.  But I feel like I'm getting to know her so much more lately.  And it makes me want to care for her all the more.  She's so tiny, and she's been thrust into this strange, loud, scary world outside of me.  The moment I hear her whimper or cry, I want to be there.  I want her to know that I will always be there just as soon as she needs me.  I feel that especially right now, in these early weeks and months, we are laying a foundation for our relationship with her, and how she feels with us.  I was so scared that I was royally effing that up in the first couple of weeks.  But now, I am developing such a drive to make sure that I am there.  That's all, really.  Just so she knows I'm there for her.  She comes first.  No matter what else I have going on at any given second, she is the most important.  I think she can tell the difference.  I feel it from the very core of my being when we are looking at each other.  There is such an understanding, and it's the most moving thing that I've ever felt.  I just can't put it into words, even though I keep trying and trying.