avoiding the real world

another stupid love story

i was the ink in your pen

and you built me with every letter.

a single word and i could stand alone.

a sentence and i was complete.

but you added another, and another, and another

about someone i’d know all too well.

someone i’d spend night after night trying to forget.

why would you bind us line by line?

knowing that we’d never stay together in the end.

knowing that this poem would never satisfy you

or be a story anyone would want to read?

one single word and i could stand alone.

a sentence and i was complete.

a paragraph and i fell apart.

-a tale i never wanted to be a part of.

another stupid love story

that no one gives a damn about.

-especially me

your ill fated, heart broken, girl character

who would have been better off on her own.

 

I recently discovered poetry I wrote for a collection in college.  I think, at best, I was a mediocre poet lol.  I tried but could never really say exactly what I wanted to say.   It is so interesting to read these poems 10 years later.  My inspiration for this poem is now, my husband.  🙂  I guess it wasn’t a stupid love story after all haha.

I’m posting this because I’m avoiding real life.  Today was difficult. My son may have autism.  I can finally type it.  I have a million thoughts, a million feelings and I just stare at my screen and checkout.  I called my parents and I cried.  I thought about 5 hours ago and 5 years from now in a single thought.  I don’t really know what to feel or think.  I think I am going to postpone the thoughts for tonight and have a glass of woodbridge chardonnay.  (yes, I’m back on Chardonnay Charles- I’m sorry, it is just better- I don’t care if that makes me an old lady lol)

Maybe in the next few weeks I’ll have a real post about all this and stop avoiding it.  Maybe I won’t …and you’ll get to enjoy more 10 year old, mediocre poetry.  Until next time…

Thinking positive

I’ve been sitting here typing out several opening sentences to this blog… and just don’t feel it.  I think it is because the events of the past few months are just really hard to talk about.  Anything being “wrong” with my kid is extremely difficult to put into words.  Worries fill my head all day long and dread feels my heart.  I can feel the anxiety in my chest and in my stomach.  I just don’t feel like coming here and writing it all out.  Tonight, I feel like listing everything that I am thankful for.  I really need to focus on the positive right now.

My son is healthy.  My son is happy.  My son is starting to respond positively to discipline.  My son is hilarious.  My son asked me to hold him today.  My son said “I need mommy,” today.    He told me that I don’t kiss him too much.  My son loves the Beatles.  He loves music and singing.  He says hilarious things.  He makes me laugh.  He fills me with such joy.  He is tall and handsome and loving.  He has such a sweet heart and a sweet personality.  He loves meditating.  He loves learning.  My son is my perfect little man.

My daughter is healthy.  My daughter is happy.  She is learning to walk.  She babbles “mama,” “dada,” and I think she’s even babbling “Jack.”  She has daily talks with the Christmas tree and the ceiling fan.  She has learned to growl.  She officially has 4 safe foods– squash, bananas, apples and carrots.  She loves splashing in the bath.  She loves me and our bond has gotten stronger throughout the last 9 months.  She is wild and fearless.  She loves her brother.  She loves her daddy.  She is such a perfect blessing.

My husband is healthy, happy and smart.  He loves me with or without makeup.  He thinks I’m beautiful when I haven’t showered in 3 days.  He is encouraging and uplifting.  He deals with so much and handles it all so well.  He defends me when I need defending.  He loves our children so much.  He sees our marriage as a true 50/50 partnership.  He is supportive and wonderful.

I am healthy.  I am happy.  I am blessed with 2 beautiful children and a wonderful husband.  I am learning to love my naked face as I move away from makeup.  I am learning to appreciate my physical imperfections because they all tell a story.  I have rediscovered writing and it is a wonderful “me time” activity.  I will do anything for my children and they will always come first.  I have discovered over the past few months that I can handle much more than I ever thought and I can handle it amazingly well.  I am a good mom–even when dealing with my own issues.  I am learning to trust my gut.  I can recognize my blessings every single day.

I am thankful for the learning experiences that 2016 has brought.  I am thankful for the beautiful little girl I delivered this year!  It has been a long, trying year– but there is always something to be thankful for.

 

 

The best, worst conversation

Well, its September.  So far, September hasn’t been so bad.  We’re 6 days into it and I’ve had one night away from the kids (which was good and sad.. lol.  I miss them so much when we’re apart.)  I’ve been somewhat stable mentally (just riding this high while I have it) and have had some good conversations.

Yesterday my husband told me that he has been largely effected by my mental illness over the past 6 months.  Of course I knew that it would get to him at times… how could it not?  However, I didn’t know that it was getting to him so badly.  He explained to me that he spends so much time trying to talk me down.  My mind goes from one crazy thought to another.  He told me he feels an immense amount of pressure having to be the only sane individual in the house.  He let it all out.  He told me everything.  He cried a little… I could feel every word.  They were laced with sadness, love and fear.  He didn’t want to tell me this because he didn’t want to add to the stress… but it just came out.

My initial reaction was to run.  I wanted to just drive… scream…punch a wall.  Anything to get my anger out.  I was upset with him for holding all of this in for months.  I was upset with him for not being stronger than I am ALL of the time… and I was just so sad that I couldn’t get my life together so he could have a better one.   These feelings lasted a few moments and then I felt better than I have in a little while.

That probably seems really weird.  It is.  For one, I felt happy that he took the time to tell me.  He risked my fragility to tell me that he was hurting and that it was in part because of me.  This told me that he trusts me… and he thinks I’m stronger than I think I am.  Or stronger than I think he thinks I am sometimes.  I felt like we were partners in this …I can tell him my fears and thoughts and he can tell me his.  He can tell me when he’s depressed.  There was something so wonderful about being completely open and honest with each other.  It actually lifted my mood.

In addition to this feeling… I also felt really relieved.  My husband is human, not a super hero.  Life can be too much for him too.  It validated some things for me.  The past year has been REALLY hard.  Calling 911 for both of your children in the past 3 months is REALLY stressful whether you have mental issues or not.  Seeing your son VERY ill for an extended period of time and then get a rare allergy syndrome diagnosis for your daughter is tough.  Postpartum anxiety/OCD and depression…are HARD.  Finances and schedules and work… are difficult.  These are not just things I torment myself over because I am “crazy.”  These are hard for everyone.

Finally, I felt a push.  I’d become lazy in my quest to get better.  I started to become fearful of my medications again.  I started to not trust my doctors… and thought I could make the best decisions for myself.  I was reminded in that 30 minute conversation that I am a long way from that place.  I need professionals to help me.  I need medication. I need therapy.  I need to find something that works… soon.  I can’t put these things off.  Too many people that I love are counting on me to get better.  I felt the sense of urgency that my husband felt in that moment and it has stayed with me.

Today has been a good day.  I can’t say that about a lot of days.  But today, my son was excited about school… my daughter let me get some work done.  My coffee was exceptional.  The sun was warm.  My kids laughed…a lot.  I painted with my son after dinner.  I took a long shower.  I listened to kid songs and sang them with my little ones.  I made a conscious effort to keep the peace.  It worked.

Thank God for the days that show you that your life can be better than the way you feel your life will ALWAYS be when you’re in your darkest times.  Thank God.

Finding answers in the guilt

I haven’t written in a while and it is because I never have the time.  When I was a kid it felt like the days were so long.  I was bored all the time.  I wanted to grow up and I wanted to start my life.  I wanted to drive and have a job and a family of my own.  I wanted everything I didn’t have.  I’m 30 now and I’ve found that I do the same things that I did when I was that little kid.  I want everything I don’t have.  I long for a simpler time.  The days are long but for a different reason.  I am exhausted.

Without going into too much detail, I am at my parent’s house for the second week in a row.  My mental issues are spinning out of control a bit and I have determined that  I should probably be at home with my parents and my kids.  If I panic, I can go to another room and know that my kids will be taken care of.  I am doing this for my children, but at the same time I know that I am hurting my husband.  He misses us.  He misses his babies.  He understands, but I still feel the guilt.  My little boy asked to go back to his house today and I knew that  I just couldn’t go yet.  I can’t explain it to him… so I try to find fun activities for him.  I try to shield him from this as much as possible.

I think that is what parenting with anxiety is.  When your little ones are hurting and its because of things that they don’t understand, you take every bit of yourself (whats left after anxiety has beat you up) and you give it to them.  You try to make every single day the best day you can for them.  Maybe one day they’ll understand.  Maybe one day my little boy will ask me why we spent so much time at his grandparent’s house.  I will tell him the truth.  I will also try to stop beating myself up about this.  I am sick and I can’t help it.  I am trying to get better, but in the meantime I am trying to protect my babies from seeing how bad it can get.  Something I wish had been done for me.