I'm back

My decision to start a new blog and try to make a go of it professionally kind of went bust. I didn't really like the format of the new blog and felt an itching to start this up again so here I am. Thanks to Sara and Adrianne for commenting on my last post. Nice to know someone out there is paying attention enough to see something new here.
So, my battle with PPD culminated in the desire to follow a dream that I had been denying myself for years. I always wanted to be a nurse, but years of my mother whispering in my ear, "Why be a nurse when you can be a doctor instead," always made me stop in my tracks. Instead of being a doctor I joined the Navy, got my degree in Human Services, and then quit a really crappy job to stay at home. All these years my fascination with nursing was still lurking. My brush with, lets be honest, a depression so deep and horrible that I probably could've offed myself made me realize that life is way too short to be doing what my mother thinks I should do. So, as of May of '09 I went back to school to do the required prerequisites to apply to nursing school. I am in my last class now.
I was still on Zol.oft that summer I went back to school and wondered how I would ever wean myself if I got used to studying while medicated. I was told once that you should always try to recreate the environment in which you study when you are taking a test, including any chemicals (like caffeine) that may be present in your body. I didn't want to feel tied to Zol.oft for that reason alone so I quit taking Zol.oft in between classes. Cold Turkey. Man, was that a mistake. It took a month before this really strange side effect that almost felt like my brain was jiggling inside my skull to stop. The first week was filled with nausea and terrible dizziness and self-doubt. I was a total moron for quitting like that, but after a week I just felt like I should continue because it would eventually get better. It did, but stepping down the dosage would've made a lot more sense and saved me 6 weeks of feeling gross.
Going back to school was a big adjustment after 4 years of having free time dedicated to only myself. But remembering that I have something to offer this world is SO worth never doing anything but studying when school is in session. I feel like a contributing member of society again. I have something to look forward to and I love that feeling.
Even though things are going in such positive directions here I still think about my battle with PPD every day. What no one tells you is that while your depression may get better, the changes in your life that came with it never leave. I still have feelings of guilt over the first year of W's life that I barely remember because I was consumed by the devil of PPD. I still have feelings of resentment towards my husband because I don't really ever feel like he believed that anything was wrong. And still to this day he seems to write the whole ordeal off as some kind of temporary inconvenience. I feel obligated to remind him that the whole thing could've gone in a completely different direction. Two years later he still doesn't seem to get it.
Most importantly, my outlook on parenting has completely changed. I remember being pregnant with A and never considering the enormity that parenting would be. Gleefully, I picked out names and got his room ready and pictured my warm, snuggly baby sleeping peacefully in my arms. Of course, we mothers are all innocent in that respect because how could anyone describe to the uninitiated the all encompassing thing it is to be a mother?
When friends announce they are pregnant I am filled with fear for them. No one ever plans on anything going wrong. When I envisioned being a mother I never imagined that something could cause ME to be the biggest danger to my children. I feel like I did being pregnant after having a miscarriage. Like the veil of innocence was stripped from my eyes and I can imagine all that could go wrong.
Maybe these feelings are just a reflection of the fact that I have touched the void personally? I have been covered in the depths of darkness and had the most horrible thoughts about life and its meaning circling through my head. I felt the wonder of life and the fear of mortality. In a moment, life became precious and fleeting.
I heard that you never really appreciate the tallest peaks until you have seen the bottom of the valleys. I hope that is true. I am due for some magnificence after coming through the other side of PPD. All of us are.

Thinking about coming back

If only I weren't so busy. Update soon for anyone that still cares. 2 year anniversary of PPD diagnosis, 1 year anniversary of weaning off Zol.oft. Definitely something to celebrate.

formspring.me

Why do you hate Christmas so much?

Wow, good question right out of the gate. I think it all boils down to my own feelings of inadequacy in all things that I do. I never feel like what I do is good enough and spend an inordinate amount of time berating myself for not measuring up to some standard that I hold. This is especially true in being a mother. I think a lot about how my children will see me in the future and thanks to my own crappy relationship with my Mom I am terrified that they will feel about me the way I feel about her. The thought of disappointing them somehow makes me want to curl up in a ball and cry. And this is the most difficult part of parenting...you have no control about how your kids will feel about you, even if you are doing the best job you possibly can.
That being said, the build up of Christmas and the anticipation of it is just too much for me. I feel like I will never do enough to make it as magical as everyone thinks it should be for children. So I feel guilty about it.
I also don't like having obligations to do anything (like giving gifts to people that I don't really like) or feel indebted to someone and all that comes with gift giving and receiving. I like giving gifts but don't like receiving.
I am working really hard on being more positive about Christmas for my kids. I would say that they probably have no idea I hate the season. I hope it stays that way.

Ask me anything

New Blog

I am trying to make a go out of blogging professionally. I will be posting more on my new blog now unless it doesn't work out, then I may come back here. I prefer this format, anyway.
Here is my new address
crazymama.today.com
I hope you stop by.

National Delurking Week

So, according to my friend Aurelia last week was national delurking week. I know people read this blog because google analytics tells me so. I also know that most people come here by way of strange google searches. But I would really love for all of those who read and give a shit to make a comment and let me know you are out there. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Or is that the 4 year old Vicodin I found at the bottom of the medicine cabinet last week?

Putting myself out there

I decided to apply for a part time job in the evenings. As a bartender. Anyone who knows me would know that really it is the perfect job for me. Liquor is probably my first true love right next to ice cream and babysitters. I put in my application on Friday and worried about it all weekend. I have no experience. I do, however, have a completely useless Bachelor's degree that cost me an arm and a leg to get at a private university and which I will probably never ever use. I think I am going to find out that my degree doesn't amount for squat nowadays.
As I was applying at this newly built chain restaurant, the stuffy temporary trailer was filled to the brim with people only speaking Spanish. In fact, one of the interviewers was dedicated solely to them. I learned back when I used to manage a chain fast food joint after I got out of the Navy that there are many jobs that those who are new to this country and do not speak English can do in the food services industry. I would say probably 85% of my staff were non-native English speakers and of the 85%, probably 25% spoke English passably enough to work the cash register. Everyone else made burgers and cleaned.
These people were extremely dedicated and most of them worked 2 and 3 jobs at fast food places to send money back to their home country for their families. They all lived together, sometimes 7 or 8 to an apartment. They would work their asses off for 6 months saving what money they didn't send home, and then return to their home country to live like Kings and Queens for the other 6 months. Then come back across the border and do it all over again.
I had no problem with these people, except for the language barrier I suppose. Honestly I don't really care who you are or what you do as long as you work hard and keep your nose clean.
When I walked into that trailer on Friday I have to admit I was a little smug. I have a degree, for goodness' sake! I am a smart woman who was very successful in my career...um, 4 years ago. Yeah. 4 years ago.
As I looked around I realized that most of the people applying for the jobs that I looked down my nose at (dishwasher, etc.) would probably be hired. They had job experience. They worked for much less pay. Me? Not so much.
Suddenly I am very humble.
The man who interviewed me when I turned my application in told me that they would call for interviews starting on Monday (today) after 5pm. What does it mean if I don't get a second interview?

Let's get one thing straight

There was an anonymous comment a few posts back concerning my husband. I would like to set the record straight with regards to S and our relationship. I feel bad that all I seem to do is post the things he does that aggravate me and never touch on the loving and wonderful things he frequently does. I guess since this blog is my vent that it does take the shape of a place for me to scream and rant without repercussion. I feel obligated, however, to do some loving on my husband now.
Friday started out as a very tough day for me. After S called me from work and I was short with him about changing my therapy appointment this week on short notice he came home at 1pm (he is normally home at 5). In his arms was a huge bouquet of flowers and a $15 i-tunes card. He told me to get the hell out of dodge and not come back until dinner. A lovely 4 hour reprieve from the cares of the world, which was just what I needed to recharge. He does this type of thing as much as he can.
While he may not volunteer to do things with the kids all the time he has never said no when I have requested time out or away. I truly believe that he just doesn't think to offer because in his mind if HE needed me time he would just ask for it and since I don't ask I don't need it.
He does spend a lot of time in his office by himself. I don't begrudge him that. I envy it. I admit I am bitter that I don't really have a space of my own in this house. But his work is such that he really needs a room dedicated just to his junk, I mean, equipment. Otherwise it would be spilling everywhere in our house or getting trampled on by the kids.
S always helps with the housework. In fact, he does all of the dishes on the weekends and while I was in the throes of my anxiety he tackled the laundry and most of the housecleaning as well.
While he may not be as emotionally available as I would like he definitely does what he can to help out. As far as the emotional stuff all I can say is that we are working on it. I have to remember that he is not a mind reader and it is unrealistic for me to expect him to be able to anticipate my needs.
He is truly the only person alive on this earth that I can spend 24/7 with and not get sick of his company.
He appreciates my intelligence and still finds me hot even after 10 years and two kids.
He never fails to whisper in my ear "You are the most beautiful woman in this room," whenever we are at a party.
He is not perfect but that is what makes our relationship interesting. Because, regardless of what the Match.com and e-harmony commercials tell you, true love does not mean that you agree all the time.
True love is
what happens in the time after you disagree
the coming together after difficult periods stronger than before
recognizing that your relationship will change as you change yourself