Time for a BIG dose of honesty

Time for me to be honest with myself and with the world.  I feel like I’m drowning, and I need to stop pretending that I can do this on my own.

I’m depressed.  That’s not really news, it’s happened many times before.  This thick fog hanging around me that dulls everything in my life.  This time is different; this time, the happy me is being buried.  Before, I would be depressed and that would just be me.  Now, I have so much to live for, my life truly is wonderful, but I can’t see it through the fog.

There is something about depression that makes it so hard to describe to someone that has never experienced it.  I could describe every detail, but if you’ve never been there, it’s hard to grasp why depression is so hard.  So I will start at the beginning.  Find the roots of why I’m depressed, relate it to why I’m depressed now, and, hopefully, it will make getting over this easier.

I never felt appreciated as a child.  I know, I know, everyone says this, especially when you’re a middle child, but it’s true.  My straight A’s never seemed good enough.  My brother, who barely squeaked by, was praised for getting a C+ on a test.  I, on the other hand, barely got recognition for getting on the all-A honor roll.  He was in football, I was in cheerleading.  If our games contradicted each other, my game would be sacrificed.  My 18th birthday was spend in a rehab facility, because I “had” to be there for my brother.  It wasn’t just at home, I didn’t have friends growing up.  I was made fun of a lot.  Always picked last, that sort of thing.  It didn’t get better as I got older.  A lot of the “friends” I thought I had took everything they could from me, but offered no help in return.  It all changed when I turned 16.  I met a boy.  He made me feel like no one else was ahead of me.  He made me feel like I was the most important thing in the world.  And since he was so nice to me, he made me feel like I owed him something.  A back-rub here, his homework there.  When he tried to make me do something explicit for him, I refused.  He got angry, really angry.  More than I have ever seen anyone get.  He pushed me to the ground and kicked me in the stomach, I don’t know how many times.  In the middle of it, he looked like he “snapped out of it,” like he just realized what he was doing.  He cried and held me and apologized and said he loved me and he’d never do it again.  Isn’t that what they always say?  As the relationship grew, so did the violence.  Pulling me around by my hair, pushing me down the stairs, always being mindful of my face.  He said he didn’t need my dad going after him, he said my dad wouldn’t understand that I needed the beatings.  One day, I went over to his house after a fight with my parents, over something stupid I’m sure.  He sat me down on his bed, and poured me some Mt. Dew and vodka, to “calm me down.”  I took it and drank it so fast I didn’t realize it tasted funny.  The next thing I know, I couldn’t move my arms.  Then my legs, then my face.  I couldn’t move anything.  All I could do was lay there and cry.  He leaned in close and whispered, “Now aren’t you relaxed?”  He brutally raped me for the next hour, then walked away.  When it was over I couldn’t cry.  My throat hurt from trying to scream.  When I finally got control of my limbs, I walked downstairs to find him watching TV like nothing had happened.  He apparently told his mom, who thought I was bad news, that I was just taking a nap.  She took me home and I didn’t say anything to anyone.  Not for years.  We broke up a week later.

I would love to say that’s the only horrible experience, but it wasn’t.  The next couple of boyfriends were just the same.  I love you, I love you, you deserve to be beaten.  Boyfriend number 3 was the worst.  He held a loaded gun in my mouth, with his finger on the trigger.  He slammed my head against the curb.  When I was with him, I constantly thought I was going to die.

Then we get to my husband.  I was literally about to walk away from my life, and start anew in a horrible place, when I reached out to the last person I thought would answer.  I was stranded at one college campus and walked for almost a day to get back to mine.  I went straight to a computer lab, wrote emails to my parents and siblings with a 6 hr delay, saying goodbye.  As I was walking out, I saw a phone just outside the lab doors.  I don’t know what caused me to do it, but I dialed the phone number of a guy I had just met a couple of weeks before.  He answered and invited me over for ice cream and Xbox.  I married him a year and a half later.

I’m not recounting all of this for pity or retaliation.  More than anything it’s to get it off of my chest.  I found recently, that if I openly talk about my issues, it really helps the healing.  I’m terrified at the thought of sharing this with the world, which only solidifies to me that this needs to happen.

I’m not saying that my childhood was horrible, because it wasn’t.  I’m not saying that every friend I had took advantage of me, because they didn’t.  I’m not sharing my horrible past with guys to mess up anyone’s lives, because that’s not what I want.

What I do want is a feeling of worth.  I want to turn off the doubting voices in my head that tell me everything that I do is wrong.  I want to explain that I know what I need to do to get past this, but I need to say how hard it is and why.

It’s hard to feel like you can be worth anything when you were told you were insignificant by a bad person.  It’s even harder when good people tell you that.  It’s hard to feel worthy when you feel totally alone.  It’s hard to see the amazing things you have, when all you knew about before was loss.

I am not depressed right now because of what happened to me in the past.  I’m depressed because the feeling of worthlessness I gained from my past is dragging me down with my newest issues.  I’m dealing with infertility now due to PCOS.  It’s a chronic, genetic disorder that has nothing to do with anything I have or haven’t done, but that doesn’t stop me from screaming, why me?  What did I do to deserve this?  Why am I not good enough to have another child?  Have I really screwed up that badly with the one that I have?  Why doesn’t God want the only dream I ever believed in to come true?  Is this what I get for feeling positive and confident?  Is this the world’s way of telling me I shouldn’t try to be happy, because I never will be?

And then comes the guilt:  Why am I not more appreciative of what I have?  Why am I doubting God and his plan for me?  Why am I so shallow that I just “have to have” a little girl?  Why don’t you see what your selfish pain is doing to your family?  Do you really want your little boy to see you cry?  Why are you screwing up his life, too?

This causes desperation.  This causes loneliness because I don’t ever want to talk.  This causes problems in my home, because I’m not there for my family.   This starts the chain of thinking of running away or ending it all.  The lives of the people I love would be better without me there, screwing everything up.

I want to be better.  I’m trying to be better.  I’m trying to feel better.  It’s the doubts that are keeping me down.  The questions of worth, the noticing of every flaw.  Nothing I do is ever good enough for me.  Other people see my worth, but I don’t .  But I’m trying.  A while ago I was working through a “victims of domestic violence” workbook, and one of the suggestions they had was write down something positive about yourself every day, and put it where you will see it often.  After a couple of weeks, write down 5 things, then a few weeks later, write 10.  When you can readily write down 20 positives about yourself, you will notice your worth.  Maybe I’ll try that, can’t hurt right?  But I think this first step, of being honest and out there about myself and my thoughts and experiences, this is definitely the first step.


Infertility is NOT a bad word…..I think

It’s time for Mommy blog!

Only I’m going to take a bit of a different road this time.  As the title suggests, I am struggling with infertility issues.  It has been a much more difficult process than I want to admit (especially to myself).  I’m going to try and be as open and honest about this as I can, because that is what will help the most.

This past February I was diagnosed with PCOS (Polycystic Ovary Syndrome).  There is more information here, but basically it means that my hormones are all out of whack, and it causes problems such as:  infertility, acne problems, Hirsutism (increased hair growth on your chest, neck and face), infrequent/absent periods, gross amounts of weight gain, loss of hair, depression, and a deficiency in insulin production.  I’d be happy to talk to anyone about what they’ve gone through with this, my doctor is really awesome and spent an hour with me answering all of my questions.   After discussing all of this with her, and getting a pretty good prognosis, my husband and I have decided to continue trying to conceive another child.  Depending on how this process goes, we will make decisions about subsequent children later.  Right now, we just want to try for 1 more.

“Hey, you have a kid, how can you be dealing with infertility?”
Infertility means that my body isn’t biologically able to conceive, even if it just means for right now.  Basically, if I get a period, and egg will be released, and I have a chance.  If not, then I don’t.  It took my husband and I 3 years and 2 miscarriages (another thing that is very typical for PCOS) to conceive our son, but with the way my hormones swung after pregnancy, it’s actually much less likely now.  My main goal is to loose weight, so I can hopefully kick-start my ovulation.

“Why are you saying all of this gross, personal stuff?”
Well, this is an incredibly personal subject, and hopefully someone that needs help will read this, and realize she’s not alone.  Infertility is incredibly frustrating and disheartening.  It makes you feel like you’re broken, like you’re a failure as a woman.  You see pregnant women on the street/Facebook/work, and you wonder why it can’t be that easy for you.  I’m having a really difficult time with my sister-in-law right now.  She just got married, and on their first try after the wedding, they got pregnant.  And I see that, and the mean, green jealousy monster gets a hold of me and I start asking a million questions.  Why was it so easy for them?  Why can’t it be so easy for us?  Then that changes to, the it’s not fair’s.  It’s not fair, I want it more.   It’s not fair, I would be a better mom.  Which are horrible thoughts, and completely not true.  She’ll be a great mom.  🙂  But that’s all part of the struggle.

“How do you deal with this?”
Good question.  So far, not really well I’m afraid.  I’m letting my fears and my SUPREMELY controlling nature surpass everything.  I think I need to listen to my husband more. (There, ya happy?)  I need to let go of the control I want to have on the situation.  The huz posed a poignant question to me when I was first diagnosed.  What if Sean is all we can have?  Will that be enough?  The honest truth?  Yes, he is all I will ever need.  If this turns out to be it, I will be okay.  I won’t like it, it’ll hurt for a while, but I will be okay.  Better than okay really, because I’ll have the most wonderful little boy in the world.  (I’m not biased, it’s a fact.)

This is my goal for myself:  I want to lose 35 lbs by October 31st.  That’s more than 10% of my body weight (you do the math), so it should, hopefully, start me ovulating.
Wish me luck!

Save the Drama for your Mama!

I hate when people say they’re “so over” drama.  Ugh.  All that that means, is they are the ones about to bring it.  In a marriage, like in adulthood, drama needs to not even be a phrase you utter.

FYI, if you’re a touchy person, stop reading now.  I’m about to offend some people!

Ladies, this a post for you.
What the hell is up with acting completely crazy??!?
Is it the magazines telling us how we should think?  Is it Dr Phil and Oprah being incredibly one-sided in all of their speaking?  Or is it this new “feminist view” that we have to make sure we dominate and over-power everything in our lives?
I don’t get it.  I was crazy for a while, and I still don’t get it.  Let me bring your attention to a phenomenon that ALL (yes all) men know about, but for some reason women have no clue:
We’re super cool and fun when we’re just hanging out.  Then we start to realize that we like this boy, and we start changing everything about us.  The way we talk, the things we like, what we wear, everything.  We kid ourselves into thinking that if we don’t do this, he won’t like us.  We bag the guy, because, well, he does like us.  Then we really start putting on the crazy pants.  We question how he feels, what he says, who he hangs out with, what he wears, everything that he does.  Why?  Because we’re terrified of losing him.  Why is that so terrifying?  WHO KNOWS?  I mean anyone, does anyone know?  Can we really just not function on our own?
NEWSFLASH LADIES:  The thing that makes us lose him?  Our going bonkers on him the first chance we get.  We need to give our guys more credit than that.  They’re not completely dumb, they know why they’re with us.  And it’s because we’re awesome!  We just need to see it.

Sigh………glad that’s off my chest………..

Just do it!

(Not affiliated with Nike in any way 🙂 )

Being a grown-up sucks!  No, really, it does.  All of the horrible things in the world that we’re aware of weigh heavily on us, more than we realize.  They make us slow and lazy, and unwilling to see wonder, because we’re afraid of it being taken away.

We could learn a lesson from our kids.  Try living our lives the way they live theirs.  Not worry about what could happen, just worry about what is happening.

This weekend we took a whole family trip to the Louisville Zoo.  It was hot (but not too hot), a VERY long walk, and I had a large backpack to carry around (in it was my camera and some extra clothes for Sean, since they have a splash park).  I did have a moment of total cranky-ness, but I’ll plead the fifth on that one.  I was dehydrated and just got done being pushed around by really crappy people.  ANYways, I decided before we even got there that my goal was to let Sean act as much like a 3-year-old as I could stand.  That was a challenge.  I a very protective mommy, and my son is an atypical little boy.  He wanted to climb on every rock, scale every fence, and run to every single exhibit.  Usually I try to rein him in a bit, but not that day.  That day I followed him along every step of the way.  I got involved in his explorations, and was able to see the zoo in his eyes.  I was there, watching how his day was made when the male lion started roaring, after Sean roared at him first.  It was amazing.

So this is my advice for you today.  Just do it.  Don’t ask, don’t think, just become a part of their day.  Stop telling them no and explore along side them.  They’re never going to know about the world around them if you don’t let them see it.

Till next time…..