Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. There is nothing better than eating delicious food with your loved ones close by your side. Unfortunately, this Thanksgiving has been tinged by some bad news. My Uncle D. had a stroke on Thanksgiving day and is in the hospital. He and my Aunt J celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary this past August. Me and my little family went to the party at their house right as I started taking the Zoloft for PPD. I was still in the throes of death obsession and seeing all my relatives who have suddenly gotten very old was not very comforting to say the least.
I remember when I came home for Christmas for the first time since I had left for boot camp the previous July. I was startled to see how much my Mom and Dad had aged. When you see them every day you aren't really struck by the difference. But not seeing them for 6 months made the comparison more significant. Whenever I think of these things I am struck by lyrics from one of my favorite Bonnie Raitt Songs entitled Nick of Time:
I see my folks, they're getting old, I watch their bodies change...
I know they see the same in me, And it makes us both feel strange...
No matter how you tell yourself, It's what we all go through...
Those lines are pretty hard to take when they're staring' back at you.
Scared you'll run out of time.
When I was in college the mother of one of my instructors died. She said the worst part for her was the realization that there was now no one "above" her generationally. I think about that a lot too, remembering when I was a child how far away being old seemed. How safe it was knowing that there were older people above you looking out for you and your well being. Eventually, you become the oldest and that realization is startling and scary.
I don't believe in blessings. The word implies that people are bequeathed something wonderful and significant due to no work of their own part. I have begun to believe that my life is truly what I have made it because of the choices I made and path I have chosen. The other things that have helped me...where I was born, who I was born to, etc. are all just dumb luck.
Life is impermanent. What I have learned from PPD that life can not only be terribly scary but also excruciatingly beautiful. Experiencing the lows can only make you appreciate the breathless heights even more. They are not mutually exclusive. Without the terrible things you cannot have the wonderful. Without death you cannot have life.
I am thankful for
my daughter's soft hair that sticks straight up when washed
my son's dark eyes
my husband's warm arms holding me to him
my daughter's hand exploring my face as she nurses
my son's exuberance in all things
the softness of my daughter's skin
my husband's feet touching mine when I get back in bed at night after tending to the baby
Blessing implies that things once bestowed can also just as easily be taken away. I am not blessed with the things I am thankful for. And for that, I am thankful.

Recovery can go fuck itself

I feel like total shit today. Everything A did got on my last nerve (I must have a lot of them). I had to stop myself from taking it out on him (by being snippy, not beating the crap out of him) probably 50 times today.
I am sitting here watching him play Sm ash Brot hers on the W!! and wondering if perhaps I could be a lousier Mom. He is absolutely a wonderful child. He jumps around while he is playing this game like he is actually doing the fight moves himself. He had great behavior while at the store today. As far as time outs went there was nothing really out of the ordinary. I still wasn't happy, though. I felt miserable.
I had a thought pop into my head today. Do I give myself permission to be a total raging bitch because of the PPD? I mean, everyone has bad days. But when we have them we do something to make ourselves feel better because we realize that we need to snap out of it in order to function. I just seem to get lost in it.
Lost in
feeling hopeless about my life
being tired all the time
worrying about when this will all go away
wondering if somehow there is something more I should be doing
being annoyed by everything my children do
This is one of these days where I want to just get in my car and drive away. And of course S is working late tonight so I have no respite in sight.
W has a double ear infection and has been waking up every 1-2 hours all night long for 3 days. I don't know how much longer I can do this.

The Ties That Bind

Dr. M always begins each of our therapy sessions by asking "How are you feeling?"
I usually answer, "Okay." Even when I am not. I think it is just human nature to answer "fine" or "okay" because since no one ever says anything different it is what we have come to expect. We are conditioned to say these things. I have to remind myself every time that I am paying this woman to listen to how I am feeling, especially when I am not fine or okay. Doesn't that seem stupid?

At the end of my first marriage 10 years ago I started seeing my first therapist. Our sessions were so ineffective it was laughable. He continually commented on how attractive I was. I continually dodged his questions about my upbringing because I didn't think I needed therapy. I did, but being 22 at the time and invincible the idea of doing something tedious even if it were for my benefit was inconceivable.

What a difference 10 years makes. Dr. M has brought me more insight into myself than I would've gained alone in the same amount of time. I spend a lot of time during the sessions crying because she has pointed something out to me that is so simple but the cause of so much angst in my life. I definitely had work that I needed to do and probably never would have done if I hadn't gotten PPD. And this may sound strange, but for this and this alone I am so grateful for PPD.

Yes, I just said I am grateful that I got PPD. No matter how torturous this road has been and no matter how much I curse and cry about it I am growing as a person.

Starting to see value in things that seemed unimportant before.

Being forced to take stock of my life and what I have to offer as a person.

Realizing that some relationships I have with my family are not healthy.

That last one is the crux of the issue with me. My whole life I have been seeking the approval of someone. No matter what I did I never did it good enough. I always felt a failure. I am so very harsh on myself all of the time.

I realized two weeks ago that I now am living for another reason...to be present for my children. To do what I can to make their upbringing as healthy and whole as possible. The first way I can do that is to take care of myself. Which means I have a lot of mud to slog through, especially with my relationship with my Mom.

The first step was realizing that I will not always make her happy. And that is okay.
I also need to make decisions that are the best for me, even if she doesn't agree with them. That is okay, too. I am a Mom now and answer to no one except my own family.

What a revelation that was for me.

The first step was to put my foot down about the holidays. No more 3 hour one way trips in the car. W screams the whole way. Not to mention my mom's house is ill equipped for young children (stairs to the loft without a railing, a pool without a fence enclosure, exposed electrical outlets, and a gun she forgets to lock up to name a few things). I have to watch A like a hawk because I am afraid he is going to hurt himself. I never sleep well because she has a f*&$ing rooster that starts crowing at 3 am and dogs that bark all night long outside the window (they roam free on her 30 acre property). The kids get up all night long because her house is too hot in the summer and freezing in the winter due to her refusal to use the a/c and heater. It sucks. I think you get the idea.

So I told S that we weren't going there for Thanksgiving this year. I cannot put on a brave face anymore and consort with relatives that know nothing about me and don't care to know. Especially this year when I feel so raw. In my family there is no such thing as showing weakness. No one is privvy to your troubles, especially other family members.

I knew my Mom would be mad. I called her on Tuesday. She hung up on me while crying. Before hanging up she told me she wasn't angry, just disappointed. But 31 years of being her child helped me read between the lines. She thought I was being selfish.

This from the woman who misses her only grandson's birthday every year because she is vacationing in Cabo.

I am disappointed in her reaction because I expected it.

Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday. This year, as most, I have much to be thankful for. Including PPD. Because while I fight to keep from succumbing to this illness I break free from the other ties that have held me down for so long.

I put on make up today

For the first time since getting PPD. Well, for the first time during the day not for any particular reason or event. And I did my hair. This is monumental. I actually had the desire to look presentable. Not because I had to but because I wanted to. It felt good. Strange, but good.
It is raining here for the first time in a long time. The wind is blowing and I have the window open to let in the cool breeze and the fresh smell. I am amused that while the leaves are dying and things are starting to look bleak outside internally I am experiencing a tiny spring. Not every day, mind you, but enough to feel human again. And hopeful.
In other news, my own recent personal emotional development did not increase my parenting skills today. I yelled at A when I was trying to talk on the phone and he kept butting in. Sometimes he frustrates me so much that I want to run outside and scream. I feel like I am talking to a wall. I ask him not to do something and he does it. Again. And Again. There is nothing more frustrating to me than not to be heard. Unfortunately it is a syndrome that I am almost convinced is genetically linked to the Y chromosome. Our dog is male and doesn't listen. Both my husband and my son are male and, well, you get the idea.
Do you ever look at your kids and wonder how you created something so cute? I mean, come on. Look at this face.
And this guy. Unique does not even begin to describe him.
He insisted on being Venom, the black spiderman. Yes, the costume is a little disco but my mom made it from a vintage pattern. I guess Marvel comics doesn't publish patterns for costumes they sell. I had to find this one on ebay. Not sure why my Mom chose satin but whatever. A doesn't care. In fact he loves it.
Days like today I don't feel like I put forth my best effort at parenting. My therapist insists that children are terribly resilient, however, and will probably grow up to be relatively normal people (inspite of me being the unspoken ending to this sentence). I can only hope.
Because when you have this for a mother you are pretty much screwed from the get goAnd yes, that is a homemade beer hat.

Friendship Meme

Tagged by Amanda. My first one so I feel obligated to do make sure I do it. :)

1. Have you had the same friends since childhood?
No. I still talk to one friend from grade school but not regularly. I did not have a very happy childhood school experience. So most of those people could drop off the face of the earth and I really wouldn't give a shit.
But I'm not bitter.

2. What do you value most about your friends?
Honesty and a sense of humor. I also like people who not only take but give. I have a propensity to give too much which usually leads to me feeling taken advantage of. I love getting to the point in a friendship where my house can be a total sty and I don't feel uncomfortable with them coming over and seeing it. Or when you get to the point where you can help yourself to a drink at their house and you not only feel comfortable doing it but also know where all the glasses are.

I also like people who are a foil to my personality. I love subtlety in humor and I just can't stand people who are gregarious all the time. I have yet to find more than a couple of friends other than my husband who can make me laugh really, really hard.

3. Are your friends your sounding boards?
Yes, but I talk about different subjects with different friends. There are only one or two people that I trust with everything I think and feel. I just don't feel comfortable sharing everything with everyone.

4. What is your favorite activity to share with your friends?
It usually revolves around alcohol of some sort. Or food. Hopefully both.

I have no idea how many people read this blog so I will tag the few I know who do because they comment.

Heather (Bobbin's Mommy)
Adrianne
Karen

Some Changes

Because who doesn't like jumping naked on a trampoline?
While holding your junk, no less.

Is it any wonder I'm tired?

So very very tired. W is still waking up multiple times a night. Sometimes 5. Sometimes 3. There is no rhyme or reason to it. It is what it is. I remember when I went through this with Angus. On the nights where he would sleep well I would obsessively try to remember what I had done during the day that lead up to it to figure out what had made it happen. Then I would try to repeat the sequence of events to the letter to duplicate the outcome. It never worked. But I guess it was nice to feel occasionally like I was in control of the situation when really I wasn't.
In therapy last week I didn't have a chance to pick up my customary latte before my session and my therapist (who from now on I will call Dr. M) commented on how tired I looked. Well, duh. But she said it in a nice, caring way. I told her that W still wasn't sleeping consistently well and she had had a rough night. We discussed how it is harder for me to block the intrusive thoughts and anxiety when I am tired. So we tried to brainstorm some ideas on how I could get more rest to feel better. Because I am running on about a year's worth of sleep deprivation and it is not really working. To say the least.
She disclosed that her daughter was six so she had a hard time remembering what worked and what didn't. Some of her ideas made me want to laugh maniacally.
Here are some of her suggestions:
"Keep her awake at night and put her to bed later."
"Don't let her sleep as much during the day."
"Don't nurse her to sleep when she wakes at night."
Ah, it all seems so simple, doesn't it? When typed out, the three suggestions above seem like something even an idiot could do. Really, these things are almost insultingly easy.
Oh, how I laughed in the car on the way home. Laughed so hard that I cried. And cried. And cried. Fatigue can do that to you. Make something that is deathly serious seem hilariously funny.
I had an epiphany at Wal-mart last week. Right in the produce aisle. In the static of my brain I had a moment of clarity so sharp that it was almost painful.
My son was making some kind of repetitious, extremely annoying noise at a frequency that only three year olds can reach. My daughter was beginning to cry because she was tired (wonder why?). A box of diapers kept falling off the bottom of my cart onto the floor. My left breast was leaking milk through my shirt.
And then the world stopped. There was a hush and then a hum. All at once I realized...
This is what insanity sounds like.
The sound of a three year old chanting and a baby howling. The hum of people talking around you. The announcements over the loud speaker. Squeaky shopping wheels. The cacophony of every day life combined with the sound of your children freaking out.
The urge to scream welled up within me. Okay, not just a scream. A howl from the depths of my soul combined with frantic running around and pulling of my hair. Maybe some face clawing for shits and giggles. How satisfying would that be? Just to absolutely fucking lose it in the middle of Wal-Mart. To just run around screaming and pushing people out of the way.
The idea was so seductive that I almost gave in to it. Is it against the law to run around screaming? I suppose they could escort you out. And tell you not to come back. That would suck because they have such low, low prices. So I guess that is out. If anything, the thought brought a smile to my face.
Really the government should investigate sleep deprivation combined with a 3 year old and a 6 month old freaking out as an alternative to water boarding. Just record that noise along with the ambient sounds of an average Wal-mart and play it over and over after a detainee has been woken up the night before every two hours by a howling baby's cries. And wait.
I don't know, that almost seems too cruel and unusual doesn't it?
Back to the cuckoo's nest.