Have you ever read someones Facebook status and cringed, felt uncomfortable and wondered why on earth they would post something so personal for the world to see? I have. I disassociate myself from that person with a raised eyebrow and my own witty, half veiled status where everything is safely insinuated and therefor acceptable. But secretly I have been brought to that moment, hands hovering over the keyboard, where I wanted to let the world know that I am about to lose my shit! I'm lonely! I'm horny! My world is a shit storm and I'm not so sure I can ride it out a moment longer! So great is my need to have some human contact,to feel some support, that I might just risk putting it all out there for people like my eighth grade classmates and high school boyfriends to read if it might garner some attention and support, a little red number in a square alerting me that some one has sent me a life line. So far I've managed to 'keep it together' for the public eye.
This morning I had a total meltdown when Everett accidentally but carelessly tore a utility shelf from the wall that was holding all the tools. It took me hours to get those shelves up and two months to even find the energy to do it by myself. Yesterday he ripped the bottom screen off the front door and I had to sit in 115 degree sun while I unscrewed the door frame, pulled the metal screen back into place, screwed the frame back on and then meticulously sewed the inner screen back onto the metal screen. Today the shelf was the last straw and instead of screaming at him I just started bawling. I cried like my heart was breaking, like I was mourning the dead, like everything as I knew it was up for auction.
Which of course is why was I crying topped with the helpless feeling one gets when they have just seen their hard work undone. Oh how I wanted to get on Facebook and virtually scream for help: "Some one come rescue me!" or "Sweep me up and tell me it's going to be Ok" And there are a few I would ask to "Kiss me so fiercely that the world falls away"and "Take me to bed and don't let me out until I have been reborn"
But what I wrote was: "Need. Massage. Now.....and a handy man." And I really don't feel a sense of superiority for my restraint. Nor do I feel any relief and no one is throwing me a lifeline because frankly, who doesn't need a massage or a handy man.
Still, I am not sure that the full disclosure status update is the way to go because although it's true that we all lose our shit at times and we all falter and feel alone, there are some out there to whom I would like to remain mysterious. It's important to me that when I am failing and falling apart, when I am ugly and unlovable, someone out there thinks I'm living the dream.
Hm..instead of sitting here and continuing to feel sorry for myself maybe I'll scan my friends status updates for TMI and throw out some lifelines. Then I'll go look at that damn shelf again. And if any of you can recommend a man who's good with his hands- ahem- I mean a good handy man, I'd be much obliged.
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Monday, July 19, 2010
Don't Let Their Size Fool You
Other than peaceful solitude in nature or the amicable silence between my mother and I when we’re getting along, there are few things more healing to my soul than my naked child resting on my chest. That slight weight, the smooth chubby skin with it’s sweet sweaty smell, the body born from mine imparting a sense that all is well with the world. I treasure those moments and they seem more and more rare these days as the kids are so active now. I steal snuggles in the hours after they have fallen asleep when their bodies are slack and giving and I listen joyfully to their murmurs and sleepy dream talk. Although I object, I secretly love when they come into my bed in the middle of the night and I get to hold them in the morning when it's still quiet, before the other comes in and all hell breaks loose. These days the fighting seems endless and it’s maddening. Top five things they fight about: If one of their hands or legs even slightly touches the other which ends with my daughter screaming, one won’t follow the exact rules of a game and threats are made to never play with the other again, my son has a problem with my daughter getting out ‘his door’ of the car so he endlessly slams it in her face at which point she starts screaming, my son won’t let my daughter finish a sentence and acting like a big know-it-all, finishes the sentence for her at which point she starts screaming, my son doesn’t like my daughter’s singing so he’ll start a chant which ends with me or my daughter screaming. Today during a particularly grueling session of ‘don’t touch me’, I actually threatened to pull the car over and leave them on the sidewalk. Now I’m not a big fan of making threats like that- especially when they are so young- it’s just asking for nightmares and separation anxiety. I’m not proud but man did it fly out of my mouth with great speed and volume. While typing this my daughter came into my room to tell me that my son had threatened to punch her in the face if she didn’t lick his butt. Fun times let me tell you. This is how my days are defined- refereeing dumb fights all day long. All day. This is why I need my glass of wine at the end of the day.
To make up for it, these small spawns of mine ply me with a virtual open- bar of love. No matter how many times I’ve raised my voice, or if I’ve threatened to leave them on the sidewalk, there are constantly little arms around my legs and juicy smooches on my cheek, pats on my bum and a never ending string of “I love you so so so so so so so so so so much mama”. On my toughest days when I can’t wait for bed time, when I am considering checking into that psych ward, when I can’t bear to hear one more whine or ear piercing shriek, my hands will find their hair, their warm backs, their soft cheeks, I’ll pummel them with smooches or our eyes will meet and I’ll croak out “I love you sweetie”, so overcome with the emotion I could weep on the spot. Checks and balances. They deplete, they fulfill. They break me, they inspire me. They bring out my best as well as my worst. They miraculously accept me when I have failed them and unreasonably reproach me for not allowing them to run around outside in a lightening storm. I don’t think I could ever be so forgiving, or so in love with a man. There is no spoken vow between mother and child yet this is the strongest, no bullshit sort of love and it ends only with my last breath. They don’t talk about this stuff in the birthing classes. They don’t warn you how much you stand to risk by loving another being so fiercely. They don’t warn you that some day your kid, your beloved baby could break your heart more thoroughly and completely than it’s ever been broken before by dying, disowning you, murdering someone, choosing to live with their father after the divorce. No, we just go blindly into the whole child rearing thing thinking only about diapers, onsies and names and worrying about such fleeting things as colic, teething and nights of lost sleep. None of us are guaranteed safe or complete passage through this life and none of us are instructed how to enjoy what time we are lucky enough to have. It seems terribly unfair but isn’t it just like our species to bitch and wine about mortality instead of marveling about this day, right now, how we are moving, breathing, loving, hurting, and thinking our way through every minute, every hour that we are lucky enough to have. My children are a burden and that may sound harsh but fuckin A- life is harsh so get over it. My children are also my greatest boon, my ship come in, my hearts desire and my gurus. Little stinkers.
To make up for it, these small spawns of mine ply me with a virtual open- bar of love. No matter how many times I’ve raised my voice, or if I’ve threatened to leave them on the sidewalk, there are constantly little arms around my legs and juicy smooches on my cheek, pats on my bum and a never ending string of “I love you so so so so so so so so so so much mama”. On my toughest days when I can’t wait for bed time, when I am considering checking into that psych ward, when I can’t bear to hear one more whine or ear piercing shriek, my hands will find their hair, their warm backs, their soft cheeks, I’ll pummel them with smooches or our eyes will meet and I’ll croak out “I love you sweetie”, so overcome with the emotion I could weep on the spot. Checks and balances. They deplete, they fulfill. They break me, they inspire me. They bring out my best as well as my worst. They miraculously accept me when I have failed them and unreasonably reproach me for not allowing them to run around outside in a lightening storm. I don’t think I could ever be so forgiving, or so in love with a man. There is no spoken vow between mother and child yet this is the strongest, no bullshit sort of love and it ends only with my last breath. They don’t talk about this stuff in the birthing classes. They don’t warn you how much you stand to risk by loving another being so fiercely. They don’t warn you that some day your kid, your beloved baby could break your heart more thoroughly and completely than it’s ever been broken before by dying, disowning you, murdering someone, choosing to live with their father after the divorce. No, we just go blindly into the whole child rearing thing thinking only about diapers, onsies and names and worrying about such fleeting things as colic, teething and nights of lost sleep. None of us are guaranteed safe or complete passage through this life and none of us are instructed how to enjoy what time we are lucky enough to have. It seems terribly unfair but isn’t it just like our species to bitch and wine about mortality instead of marveling about this day, right now, how we are moving, breathing, loving, hurting, and thinking our way through every minute, every hour that we are lucky enough to have. My children are a burden and that may sound harsh but fuckin A- life is harsh so get over it. My children are also my greatest boon, my ship come in, my hearts desire and my gurus. Little stinkers.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Fear
There is an ache that has taken up full time residency in my chest and often it expands to such a girth that I fear my internal cavities cannot withstand the pressure. I have to find the saddest or the most seductive song and play it loud so that some of my longing and disquiet can find its way out and relieve that pressure for a short while. I think a lot about leaving. I know I could never do it and live with myself, I could never be apart from my children for very long, it would be too devastating but there are days when I think about checking myself into a psych ward just to get something of a vacation from these children. Some days I can’t stand them for long periods of time and I don’t let them near me because I can’t breathe. I think I must be the most awful mother there is to tell my children to leave me alone, to feel so resentful, to want to punish them for hampering my life so. If they were gone truth is I would wander aimlessly and feel uneasy, uncomfortable in my skin, not as confident. I would be half a person. It’s comedy really, that I feel half a person with them and half a person without them. Lately I fluctuate between wanting to jump off a bridge or making out with someone. Probably I should opt for the latter…find a babysitter, go to a bar, drink some tequila, set my sites on easy but appetizing prey and corner him. I’d have better luck in a smaller town.
I have lost sight of what it is I am supposed to be doing right now. Am I supposed to be ruminating on my marriage and figuring out if I want to salvage it and how? Am I supposed to be working on myself and putting thoughts of the marriage on the back burner or am I supposed to be working on myself and moving on? My husband called from Afghanistan last night and asked if I am dating anyone. After nearly two months of brief, terse conversations finally he asks a question that eludes to the glaring fact that we are separated. I thought it would open the door for us to talk about how we’re feeling so far, what we’ve realized in retrospect, what our positions are on divorce etc…. But after I told him I wasn’t dating and answered his “Why?” he said it was a good place to end the conversation. There I was thinking we had just begun. But he has to compartmentalize all of his emotions so that he can work 12 hour shifts seven days a week in weather that rarely goes below 100 degrees in hostile country. I get it. He gets that it is hard for me. We shoulder it and trudge on in our separate directions. He says he will be filing for divorce as soon as he gets back and though I expected it, it still sends a shock through my body to hear it, a rending sensation that next morning I realize has added to the ache. Even though an actual divorce is at least a year in the future, I still feel like things are moving at a dizzying pace and I feel a need to steady myself before I go hurtling down this avalanche. I feel entitled to have some time, some space to figure myself and everything else out. With him it’s black and white, I’m in or out and there’s no alternatives. If we’re separated then it’s divorce and I’m scared. I’m really, really, fucking scared.
I have lost sight of what it is I am supposed to be doing right now. Am I supposed to be ruminating on my marriage and figuring out if I want to salvage it and how? Am I supposed to be working on myself and putting thoughts of the marriage on the back burner or am I supposed to be working on myself and moving on? My husband called from Afghanistan last night and asked if I am dating anyone. After nearly two months of brief, terse conversations finally he asks a question that eludes to the glaring fact that we are separated. I thought it would open the door for us to talk about how we’re feeling so far, what we’ve realized in retrospect, what our positions are on divorce etc…. But after I told him I wasn’t dating and answered his “Why?” he said it was a good place to end the conversation. There I was thinking we had just begun. But he has to compartmentalize all of his emotions so that he can work 12 hour shifts seven days a week in weather that rarely goes below 100 degrees in hostile country. I get it. He gets that it is hard for me. We shoulder it and trudge on in our separate directions. He says he will be filing for divorce as soon as he gets back and though I expected it, it still sends a shock through my body to hear it, a rending sensation that next morning I realize has added to the ache. Even though an actual divorce is at least a year in the future, I still feel like things are moving at a dizzying pace and I feel a need to steady myself before I go hurtling down this avalanche. I feel entitled to have some time, some space to figure myself and everything else out. With him it’s black and white, I’m in or out and there’s no alternatives. If we’re separated then it’s divorce and I’m scared. I’m really, really, fucking scared.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Teacher and Student
When does the day come when I wake up and feel grateful. First thing. When I don’t immediately wish I could sleep longer, feel better, have less bullshit to deal with and hard decisions to make? Am I hard wired to feel crappy? I mean even the happiest people have bullshit and hard decisions on their plate- it’s unavoidable in life. Right? Are there really people who get through this unscathed or are they urban myths. In case you didn’t catch on to the tone of this entry, I’m going to bitch about my life so feel free to skip this one if your own personal problems are just about all you can handle right now. I have moved into my new little house in Raleigh, my husband has left for Afghanistan for half a year and nothing feels like it is on track. Instead of feeling like I am moving forward I feel like I am slipping, more alone than ever and less and less sure about my decision to separate. From my first night in the new house it has been one problem after another and it’s all I can do to keep chipping away at what at times feels insurmountable. First night it rained and the cockroaches made their appearance. They just came out of the vents, huge, ugly, nasty fuckers. The next night I had bought some natural spray and was ready. Or so I thought. I opened my front door after dark to sit on the porch and about seven roaches ran for the door. I ran for the flashlight and spray and discovered that there were twenty or more on the porch, in my plants, all along the sides of the house. I started to spray, following them with the little beam from my flashlight and when I moved out into the yard some of the craftier ones rushed to the screen door scrambling to get in. To make matters worse the underside of the house is infested with Camel Back Crickets which look like giant spiders that jump around so as I attempted to spray the roaches on the sides of the house the crickets were jumping on me and I didn’t know if it was roaches or crickets. For nearly twenty minutes I yelped and jumped, nearly hyperventilating with fear and adrenaline. I never looked to see if the neighbors were watching. That shook me to the core and set in motion this feeling of instability and doubt. I think that part of the reason it’s hitting me so hard is that I want and need to create this safe, warm, inviting little space for the kids and I amid so much change and uncertainty and I feel like my fortress has been breached and I have no control. So there’s that. Then throw in the fact that we’ve run out of money and it’s thirteen days until we get payed, Zoot took off again at the OLD house and I wasn’t able to find her before we moved, the AC broke, the cat I swore I was bringing back to the shelter peed and pooped on Ev’s bed yesterday, the house is full of boxes to the point where you can hardly move around and truth be told there is only shelves and space for about half the stuff. But amazingly enough I am able to chip away at it. I hung upside down in two feet of space for some time and got the dryer functioning, I got the land lady to send some one over to rake away the two years worth of cockroach infested leaves against the house, the internet was finally connected and all problems resolved, I bought wood and stained it to make my own shelves, I broke down and bought the bad chemicals to spray around the house which seems to be doing the trick with the creepy crawlies and I even manage to laugh a few times a day with the kiddos. So even though the tape won’t hold things on the wall, the nails bend under the hammer, the outlets aren’t updated and I could lose my computer in one of the storms we are getting every few hours, I don’t know how we’ll get money to shop for food until the next paycheck, I have cramps and my forehead has broken out, there is some force so great working within me that I am able to actually get out of bed every morning; even if my first thoughts aren’t rosy they are at the very least coherent and sane. So far. OK, now that I’m halfway through my first cocktail of the evening let’s move on to the good stuff. I’m sitting at my new desk for the first time. After clearing away boxes and clutter and finding a chair, I have my writing station I had envisioned. There is a small window in front of me and the branches from two large oaks grow almost up to it creating a green jungle for me to appreciate while I type. A happy male cardinal just landed on a young branch and we watched each other while he swung up and down in the post storm breeze. Being in a college town I now have a wonderful selection of Public Radio stations and I’ve been enjoying the talk radio especially as it makes me feel like I have company and the weather has been crappy which is actually a good thing since the AC will be down for at least a few more days.
I feel like a stranger in a strange land but I’m fairly confident that I can make a home here. I have a great friend who lives a few miles away and she has invited me into her circle of friends where I have been warmly received. I just want to get to the point where I don’t have to wait for her to host an event to socialize! Jr. High was a lonely, scary hell that I lived through and even benefited from, so I know I can do this. I’m watching the kids run through the house, nimbly avoiding a box here, a sharp corner there, laughing raucously. Despite the incredibly cramped, disorganized quarters, they move free and easy and I think: pay attention-they’re showing you how it’s done.
I feel like a stranger in a strange land but I’m fairly confident that I can make a home here. I have a great friend who lives a few miles away and she has invited me into her circle of friends where I have been warmly received. I just want to get to the point where I don’t have to wait for her to host an event to socialize! Jr. High was a lonely, scary hell that I lived through and even benefited from, so I know I can do this. I’m watching the kids run through the house, nimbly avoiding a box here, a sharp corner there, laughing raucously. Despite the incredibly cramped, disorganized quarters, they move free and easy and I think: pay attention-they’re showing you how it’s done.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Don't Count Your Chickens...
I’ve got blisters on my fingers from learning chords on the guitar, darker hair cause I discovered some new grays and a ball of ugly emotion right in my core. I’m working hard to release that ball before it wins the whole day. My husband got the call yesterday that his deployment got pushed back from March to July. Just like that. How many things were riding on that initial March date? How many decisions were made based on that March date? How many sacrifices did that March date require of me? It just serves as a reminder that no matter what, I cannot live this military lifestyle any longer. It is not in my nature to play second fiddle. It is not acceptable to know that my plans, no matter the importance, are not considered by those who hand out the orders. Ah well, life doesn’t play by rules when handing out the orders or consider everybody’s plans so I need to button it.
I went to see ‘Crazy Heart’ on Sunday night. Great movie, great sound track. I had some time to kill before the movie started so I decided to do a little work. I write an entertainment blog for a local glossy and basically get paid to visit bars and restaurants where I am given entrees and drinks and then write a review on the ambience, cuisine, crowd etc… They have me on a project while I’m here promoting a city-wide cocktail competition that will be featured in their May food and wine issue. I’ll get to pick the top ten winners and there will be a photographer to chronicle my sipping escapades. So I decided to pop into a few bars to drop off my card and recruit for participants. The first place I stopped at is a biker bar and as soon as I pulled into the parking lot about 14 bikers pull up in their colors. There were about 12 more already in the small bar when I walked in and it occurred to me that some one raised differently from myself might not have been as comfortable sauntering into this particular atmosphere. Alone. But hell I’m from NH and grew up around burly, nasty looking men in denim and leather so I can hold my own and at the very least appear confident. Second place I visited is what I like to call your basic, square bar. Small and square with one window and the light from one door. Old men with their cans of beer snuggled in their own koozies they brought from home. Coupla drunk Mexican men walk in trying to act sober enough to get some beers.. A pool table is squeezed in one corner and the players are good naturedly vying with other patrons for space to shoot. And there’s this great band playing all my favorite classic rock tunes so I have to stay for a beer. The band is comprised mostly of middle-aged men but the bassist is some young stud in sunglasses. They’ve got talent and a hell of a lot of love for these old tunes and I quite enjoyed myself. The really, really old man to my right identified himself as ‘Peanut’ and a manager of the bar. He had a koozy full and one on ice in his little beer bucket in front of him at the bar. There was a constant variety of patrons coming up and buying him a beer so that little bucket always had one chilling. Then one of the patrons was nice enough to replenish my beer as well as Peanuts’. His name was Bill and Bill is a skydiver. Bill seems to eat, drink and sleep skydiving. Bill talked to me about skydiving for a long time. A long time.
Now that’s the kind of review I wish I could write but the magazine is pre-tty conservative so my blogs are basically like advertisements for the places. Today is a crappy, rainy day. Even the kitties are choosing to sleep away the gloomy hours. There’s the occasional flash of red or blue in our yard of a cardinal or bluebird. I can hear the rain dripping on the flower boxes outside and our wind chimes are working overtime. I can get through today, hopefully with some grace and positivity and tomorrow I am attending women’s group for dinner and a break dancing competition in Raleigh. I’ll spend the night with my friend T, have coffee in the morning and take my time instead of rushing back like I usually do. That will recharge me enough so that I can resume chugging along towards god know what. But hey- I got to rub elbows with an ancient man named Peanut, drink some beers, eat some pretzels, listen to a live version of ‘Sharp Dressed Man’ and now possess a walking wealth of information about skydiving. Life ain’t all that bad.
I went to see ‘Crazy Heart’ on Sunday night. Great movie, great sound track. I had some time to kill before the movie started so I decided to do a little work. I write an entertainment blog for a local glossy and basically get paid to visit bars and restaurants where I am given entrees and drinks and then write a review on the ambience, cuisine, crowd etc… They have me on a project while I’m here promoting a city-wide cocktail competition that will be featured in their May food and wine issue. I’ll get to pick the top ten winners and there will be a photographer to chronicle my sipping escapades. So I decided to pop into a few bars to drop off my card and recruit for participants. The first place I stopped at is a biker bar and as soon as I pulled into the parking lot about 14 bikers pull up in their colors. There were about 12 more already in the small bar when I walked in and it occurred to me that some one raised differently from myself might not have been as comfortable sauntering into this particular atmosphere. Alone. But hell I’m from NH and grew up around burly, nasty looking men in denim and leather so I can hold my own and at the very least appear confident. Second place I visited is what I like to call your basic, square bar. Small and square with one window and the light from one door. Old men with their cans of beer snuggled in their own koozies they brought from home. Coupla drunk Mexican men walk in trying to act sober enough to get some beers.. A pool table is squeezed in one corner and the players are good naturedly vying with other patrons for space to shoot. And there’s this great band playing all my favorite classic rock tunes so I have to stay for a beer. The band is comprised mostly of middle-aged men but the bassist is some young stud in sunglasses. They’ve got talent and a hell of a lot of love for these old tunes and I quite enjoyed myself. The really, really old man to my right identified himself as ‘Peanut’ and a manager of the bar. He had a koozy full and one on ice in his little beer bucket in front of him at the bar. There was a constant variety of patrons coming up and buying him a beer so that little bucket always had one chilling. Then one of the patrons was nice enough to replenish my beer as well as Peanuts’. His name was Bill and Bill is a skydiver. Bill seems to eat, drink and sleep skydiving. Bill talked to me about skydiving for a long time. A long time.
Now that’s the kind of review I wish I could write but the magazine is pre-tty conservative so my blogs are basically like advertisements for the places. Today is a crappy, rainy day. Even the kitties are choosing to sleep away the gloomy hours. There’s the occasional flash of red or blue in our yard of a cardinal or bluebird. I can hear the rain dripping on the flower boxes outside and our wind chimes are working overtime. I can get through today, hopefully with some grace and positivity and tomorrow I am attending women’s group for dinner and a break dancing competition in Raleigh. I’ll spend the night with my friend T, have coffee in the morning and take my time instead of rushing back like I usually do. That will recharge me enough so that I can resume chugging along towards god know what. But hey- I got to rub elbows with an ancient man named Peanut, drink some beers, eat some pretzels, listen to a live version of ‘Sharp Dressed Man’ and now possess a walking wealth of information about skydiving. Life ain’t all that bad.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Coming in Last
Well, as much as I’m tempted, I can’t really glamorize where I’ve been as of late. I am faltering and not feeling strong this week. I am scared of how hard life will be when I’m on my own, a single mother of two children with no college education and no savings. I’m overwhelmed with how much there is to do here in this house and by how much of it is falling on just me. My husband is gone all this week and then home for a few weeks before shipping off to Afghanistan for six months. I will need to have this house in tip top shape and be all moved out by April 1. I’m searching Craig’s list every day but of course unable to view any of the apartments as I am many States away. Where and how everything will fall together is so unclear and all this uncertainty is taking a heavy toll on my mental well-being. I am not able to go to yoga which my body and mind are screaming for, I am binging nearly every night on Cheez-its, chocolate chip cookies, ice cream etc…. I even bought Cool-Whip the other day. I hate Cool-Whip!!! I am not spending quality time with the kids aside from bed time, I am short tempered with them and totally unequipped for this awful angry phase that Everett is going through. I can barely keep myself in check and I have this screaming, hateful 5 1/2 year old stomping around the house all day. I’m desperately unhappy right now. If I just had one person to help me every day, this would feel manageable. Looking around my room right now makes me want to crawl under my covers- there’s so much shit to deal with and add to that five more rooms left to deal with!!! My brain tends to shut down and isn’t inclined towards organization.
My husband and I have fallen into a strange existence together. Upon arriving home I was caught off guard by a great sexual desire that arose in me. Thus when he made the first move I was more than agreeable. We made love twice in one night and let me tell you: that ain’t happened since before I got pregnant the first time. I sincerely wanted to hold him and to be held. We watched movies together and snuggled with arms, legs and fingers entwined. For two days this stuck and then there was some small spat and the bubble was popped. Now I’m back to being disappointed at things he hasn’t done and responsibilities he’s not on top of. The sex drive is back to where ever it’s been all these years. After two months of living in near isolation at my nana’s, being totally broke and grieving the loss of this marriage and friendship, I really needed to be held and he’s been my rock and safe haven for so long; he’s a good lover and knows my body and the way we fit best. I do not think that I would have been able to feel desire if there were not an impending separation. Just driving up to the house took some wind out of my sails because of all the unhappiness, disorganization and stalemate existence that it represents.
Now a little joy is creeping into my heart because I am reminded of the fuller life in NH that awaits my arrival. I will have friends for dinner! I can have birthday parties for the kids! I can call up dozens of people on any given night and say, “Hey want to go see some kick ass blue grass tonight?”
This morning my breath was so awful that I wondered how I could ever have another lover. Am I going to have to wake up at 3am to brush my teeth again so when he rolls over at 7 he’s not bowled out of bed? Do I have to go back to agonizing when I unexpectedly have to take a shit at his house? What about broccoli farts and ass zits? Oh my god. I’m terrified. This is why women stay in unhappy relationships! I am destined to be a pariah in the dating scene…. Eff it. I learned everything I need to know when I was eleven. Wink wink.
**************************Phone call with N *****************************
You can’t hear it but I just let out an audible sigh of release. N gave me a much needed reminder that I am only a human mama and I am doing the best I can under difficult circumstances and it won’t last FOREVER! So what if the kids watch too many movies, so what if I don’t go for a walk everyday, so what if I can’t give everybody my best this month. I have to get through this part and then through the next part and then life will start to resemble something more peaceful with a routine and a rhythm and then I can worry about reaching super mom status. Man was I lost in that self-deprecating sea.
There have been some humorous moments in the past few days that should not go un noted. My cat Zoot, who is going on 10, suffered a most undignified failing of her bodily functions the other night. Whilst snuggling in bed I glanced over to see flecks of diarrhea on the sheet next to my shoulder that had not been there seconds before. My glance immediately zeroed in on Zoot’s bum and confirmed the source. Poor Zoot had sharted and was completely oblivious to the fact. I reached for a tissue to wipe the small amount on her bum before she could sit on my duvet and it wasn’t until I began cleaning her did she catch a waft and investigate. Skip ahead two days and I am on the phone with my father. My nose begins to run and I reach for a tissue that had fallen between the bed and my nightstand. As soon as my snot wetted the tissue the substance already residing there was revived and identified itself as- you guessed it- cat diarrhea. This reminds me of the only segment of the “Jeff Foxworthy Show” worth remembering- ‘Tell me that don’t stank.’
Ok- time to get out of my bathrobe and see what the little heathens have been up to downstairs. Such a huge part of me doesn’t want to know….
My husband and I have fallen into a strange existence together. Upon arriving home I was caught off guard by a great sexual desire that arose in me. Thus when he made the first move I was more than agreeable. We made love twice in one night and let me tell you: that ain’t happened since before I got pregnant the first time. I sincerely wanted to hold him and to be held. We watched movies together and snuggled with arms, legs and fingers entwined. For two days this stuck and then there was some small spat and the bubble was popped. Now I’m back to being disappointed at things he hasn’t done and responsibilities he’s not on top of. The sex drive is back to where ever it’s been all these years. After two months of living in near isolation at my nana’s, being totally broke and grieving the loss of this marriage and friendship, I really needed to be held and he’s been my rock and safe haven for so long; he’s a good lover and knows my body and the way we fit best. I do not think that I would have been able to feel desire if there were not an impending separation. Just driving up to the house took some wind out of my sails because of all the unhappiness, disorganization and stalemate existence that it represents.
Now a little joy is creeping into my heart because I am reminded of the fuller life in NH that awaits my arrival. I will have friends for dinner! I can have birthday parties for the kids! I can call up dozens of people on any given night and say, “Hey want to go see some kick ass blue grass tonight?”
This morning my breath was so awful that I wondered how I could ever have another lover. Am I going to have to wake up at 3am to brush my teeth again so when he rolls over at 7 he’s not bowled out of bed? Do I have to go back to agonizing when I unexpectedly have to take a shit at his house? What about broccoli farts and ass zits? Oh my god. I’m terrified. This is why women stay in unhappy relationships! I am destined to be a pariah in the dating scene…. Eff it. I learned everything I need to know when I was eleven. Wink wink.
**************************Phone call with N *****************************
You can’t hear it but I just let out an audible sigh of release. N gave me a much needed reminder that I am only a human mama and I am doing the best I can under difficult circumstances and it won’t last FOREVER! So what if the kids watch too many movies, so what if I don’t go for a walk everyday, so what if I can’t give everybody my best this month. I have to get through this part and then through the next part and then life will start to resemble something more peaceful with a routine and a rhythm and then I can worry about reaching super mom status. Man was I lost in that self-deprecating sea.
There have been some humorous moments in the past few days that should not go un noted. My cat Zoot, who is going on 10, suffered a most undignified failing of her bodily functions the other night. Whilst snuggling in bed I glanced over to see flecks of diarrhea on the sheet next to my shoulder that had not been there seconds before. My glance immediately zeroed in on Zoot’s bum and confirmed the source. Poor Zoot had sharted and was completely oblivious to the fact. I reached for a tissue to wipe the small amount on her bum before she could sit on my duvet and it wasn’t until I began cleaning her did she catch a waft and investigate. Skip ahead two days and I am on the phone with my father. My nose begins to run and I reach for a tissue that had fallen between the bed and my nightstand. As soon as my snot wetted the tissue the substance already residing there was revived and identified itself as- you guessed it- cat diarrhea. This reminds me of the only segment of the “Jeff Foxworthy Show” worth remembering- ‘Tell me that don’t stank.’
Ok- time to get out of my bathrobe and see what the little heathens have been up to downstairs. Such a huge part of me doesn’t want to know….
Monday, January 5, 2009
The Dark Corners of Motherhood
How do our children fare when we sink so low? How is this leg of the journey I am on going to affect them in the long run? We all must push on through and do the best we can but what if we end up doing our children a terrible disservice by taking too many emotional liberties? I have been so enmeshed in this depression, obsessed with finding my happiness, with changing my life for the better, with finding my callings that the child rearing seems to have taken the back seat. Sure I am here every single day- day in and day out and lavish them with love, but am never fully present in mind. I am elsewhere in daydream or depression or sorry thoughts for myself. It sounds terrible doesn't it? This is the dirty underbelly of motherhood that no one wants to talk about. That we aren't always doing a great job and sometimes for long stretches of time we suck at what we're doing. Right now- I suck at motherhood. Hands down. Doesn't feel good to admit it but it would feel worse to deny it. Some people learn how to take the reigns and lead themselves to a healthier place. One amazing woman in my life found herself with a toddler, new born twins, a partner with out a job and no one ever came around to help. She was up and down and at times way down, but she disciplined herself to get up before the children- before the sun- to do yoga or run. That is iron strength right there. To drag yourself, sleep deprived, out of bed to make yourself do something you know is going to give you a little more energy for the great task ahead of you,when all you want to do is REST!! She is a wonder to me and has been many times over the years.
My own mother was a single mother living in the woods with no electricity or running water and until I was 5- no car. She would bundle me up and put me in the seat on the back of her bike. She chopped holes in the river near our cabin for water. She also lost the love of her life while I was still in diapers- he never came to explain- just took off with another woman. She said that she got so low after that she couldn't look anyone in the eye, that I was the only thing that saved her. I often wonder what I was privy to during that time.... But she turned to Yoga and meditation and her music and become more in tune with herself.
My children have seen my worst and that kills me. It must be so scary for them when I lose it but in the moment I lack discipline, I'm selfish and I unleash. I don't beat them or anything but my voice can be so cold. My children are paying for my unhappiness and I wonder if I can get it together in time for it to merely be a dim memory or to fade away completely into non existence. I've noted that the anti-depressant I am taking makes me feel extremely raw and I am thinking I should stop because the rages it throws me into cause as much depression as was present before starting the damn drug. Today they saw the bad mom in all her glory. It snuck up on me like a hungry cat. It's tiiiime. One half of my brain is saying- oh god listen to yourself- turn it around now! There I am just lettin' loose, all guns firing, releasing the demon. The other half of my brain registers their beautiful eyes grown wide, bodies clenched and my heart moans.
Today I decided to write it out. It's ugly.
I am like a monster
raging
screaming
my world falls down upon me
I am suffocating
drowning
stagnant
unable to sustain joy
They are watching
scared
confused
as mother morphs before them
I can hear my terrible voice
cold
accusing
the love does not shine through
I am lost in this sea
undone
unhinged
primitive in my anger
And after I'm numb
embarrassed
depressed
and wish to leave this body
To leave them better
without
me
a mother too wild and free
Then I want to gather them
warm
soft
little bodies born from mine
I want to assure
convince
atone
lighten their sweet little minds
For it's surely too heavy a load
burden
love
for them to carry for life
Sweeter souls I have never known
fly
free
from me.
My own mother was a single mother living in the woods with no electricity or running water and until I was 5- no car. She would bundle me up and put me in the seat on the back of her bike. She chopped holes in the river near our cabin for water. She also lost the love of her life while I was still in diapers- he never came to explain- just took off with another woman. She said that she got so low after that she couldn't look anyone in the eye, that I was the only thing that saved her. I often wonder what I was privy to during that time.... But she turned to Yoga and meditation and her music and become more in tune with herself.
My children have seen my worst and that kills me. It must be so scary for them when I lose it but in the moment I lack discipline, I'm selfish and I unleash. I don't beat them or anything but my voice can be so cold. My children are paying for my unhappiness and I wonder if I can get it together in time for it to merely be a dim memory or to fade away completely into non existence. I've noted that the anti-depressant I am taking makes me feel extremely raw and I am thinking I should stop because the rages it throws me into cause as much depression as was present before starting the damn drug. Today they saw the bad mom in all her glory. It snuck up on me like a hungry cat. It's tiiiime. One half of my brain is saying- oh god listen to yourself- turn it around now! There I am just lettin' loose, all guns firing, releasing the demon. The other half of my brain registers their beautiful eyes grown wide, bodies clenched and my heart moans.
Today I decided to write it out. It's ugly.
I am like a monster
raging
screaming
my world falls down upon me
I am suffocating
drowning
stagnant
unable to sustain joy
They are watching
scared
confused
as mother morphs before them
I can hear my terrible voice
cold
accusing
the love does not shine through
I am lost in this sea
undone
unhinged
primitive in my anger
And after I'm numb
embarrassed
depressed
and wish to leave this body
To leave them better
without
me
a mother too wild and free
Then I want to gather them
warm
soft
little bodies born from mine
I want to assure
convince
atone
lighten their sweet little minds
For it's surely too heavy a load
burden
love
for them to carry for life
Sweeter souls I have never known
fly
free
from me.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Thumbs Up Party
Today while driving my husband to work ELO came on the radio and my four year old son announced from the back seat that his two and a half year old sister was, "having a thumbs up party." Sure enough a glance in the rear view mirror confirmed that she was in full party mode, thrusting a thumb up on alternating hands in perfect rhythm. Not only was I impressed with her musicality but I was jealous that she could feel so much unbridled joy at 7am on a gloomy, cold Bavarian day. I had a million things on my mind and the weight of the screwed up world on my shoulders. NPR came on and summed up the VP debate. Then the generally depressing round of reporting on various world events. Then we're at the gate and I flash my ID to the guards and drive on into another world. Our Base has doubled in size in the last year and the number of single soldiers has more than doubled. At least it feels that way. Every where you look there are young men and women in their ACU's. Many of them are participating in 'exercises' and are carrying machine guns with helmets on and lower lips full of chew. My son calls out eagerly when he spots a gun and I think to myself for the umpteenth time- "How the HELL did I end up here?"
In June of 2002 I was living in NYC just managing to make ends meet and feeding off of the creative energy that abounds in that magical city. I was held up at knife point in the upscale bathing suit store I was working at and quit the next week. I was renting my own wing of an apartment in the upper west side of Manhattan from friends of a friends parents for $500 a month. Try finding that anywhere in the city. The same week I quit my job they told me their daughter and her new husband were moving back home and I'd have to find somewhere else to live. I didn't have any money saved so I had to leave the city. There's usually a silver lining and mine was that I reconnected with an old friend and casual lover and this time the chemistry was undeniable and unrelenting. He had already signed up with the Air Force and was about to leave. We consumed one another as new lovers do and then he was gone.... Over the next year I waited through basic training and then he went to tech school and we could talk and write letters again. He came home for christmas with this new wiry, muscly body and sadness in his eyes and my heart couldn't accept being without him. We decided soon after that visit to go monogamous and I went out to visit him on the Gulf Coast for valentines day. When I arrived at the small airport I didn't see him and started down the escalator to the lower level. A huge bouquet of yellow daffodils was thrust in front of my face about half way down and I felt his kiss on my neck. After some hemming and hawing and a summer spent in a tent so I could save money, I moved to his first duty station in Belleville ,Illinois. Now two things I had promised myself were that I would never work at a fast food chain or live in the mid west. And there I was. We lived in a tiny house off base and I got a job tending bar at a couple skeezy joints and he was working all kinds of crazy shifts. We made love two or three times a day most weeks, got in terrible drunken fights and started getting to know each other bit by bit. Six months into it I was pregnant. Being young and idealistic we decided to have the baby and get married. Then came the orders to Germany which we had both pushed for and when our son was 8 months old we moved across the ocean. Two months after arriving I was pregnant again and very nearly had an abortion but my husbands eagerness to have another baby rubbed off on me enough for me to change my mind.
That's the epidermis. The dermis is that I had quit my jobs once I became too sick from the pregnancy and I didn't have any friends in Illinois so my days were punctuated by the coming and going of my husband's little red car. I would loiter in front of our kitchen door window until I saw that flash of red. During the days I would invent errands for myself to get out of the house. I was for the first time since leaving home, fully dependent on someone and it didn't feel totally right. After all I certainly wasn't thinking about marriage and never really felt that stereotypical urge that women have to 'be taken care of'. I had left behind a very full and fulfilling social life and family support network and wasn't able to share my changing life and body. After the first baby was born I remember a lot of new parent bliss and the isolation became more bearable as my days were filled with the new wonders of a baby. I finally made a good friend with a baby around the same age who was as laid back as I and who could sink a glass of wine with me in between nursings. Then we moved to Germany and the next baby came which I really wasn't ready for. She was a screamer and I had a very busy toddler and most days felt exhausted and overwhelmed. I let the baby cry a lot and felt a lot of resentment towards her. Then I felt guilty because our bonding wasn't happening as effortlessly as it had with my son and I worried that she would be an unhappy person because I let her cry so much. Those were dark days. I didn't want to make love, kiss or even to be affectionate with my husband- that lasted nearly four years. I felt like a part of myself that had once been so healthy had sickened and died. The guilt was endless-knowing how much hurt and insecurity I was causing my husband sent me on a downward spiral. I never felt like I had enough for anyone let alone myself. Again I made one dear friend and this time she left me about half a year after my daughter was born.
Trying to insert myself into military life and the things that wives do has been like the old square peg in a round hole saying. The isolation got worse and the depression got worse. I had lived a prior life full of amazing friends, artists, musicians, thinkers, doers, questioning, seeking, creating and supportive people. Now my social life revolved around the occasional work function where none of the young 20 something single soldiers were interested in my mind or what I might have to say. I am a spouse and a mother and it stops at that. I felt myself slipping farther and farther away from an identity that I could be proud of. My marriage was falling apart and had been for a long time. I started to internally shoulder all the blame for this and all of my unhappiness. One night found me wailing and sobbing and a mantra escaped- " I hate myself, I hate myself.." I had one brief thought that everyone would be better off without me and that was it. I made an appointment the next day to see a doctor on base, sucked up my pride and asked to be put on an anti- depressant. I am of the opinion that Americans are over medicated and I had just read the report that the waste from Americans is full of by products from anti- depressants and is affecting the water life. But my husband was preparing to deploy for six months and I couldn't mess around- I was about to be a single parent and could not risk being that depressed. I asked to be put on Welbutrin because I had read that in some clinical studies it was shown to improve sexual disfunction which I hadn't been diagnosed with but I certainly wasn't functioning like I wanted to in that department. I started the medication and my husband shipped off. We didn't make love the night before he left and our parting was thick with sadness and relief.
In June of 2002 I was living in NYC just managing to make ends meet and feeding off of the creative energy that abounds in that magical city. I was held up at knife point in the upscale bathing suit store I was working at and quit the next week. I was renting my own wing of an apartment in the upper west side of Manhattan from friends of a friends parents for $500 a month. Try finding that anywhere in the city. The same week I quit my job they told me their daughter and her new husband were moving back home and I'd have to find somewhere else to live. I didn't have any money saved so I had to leave the city. There's usually a silver lining and mine was that I reconnected with an old friend and casual lover and this time the chemistry was undeniable and unrelenting. He had already signed up with the Air Force and was about to leave. We consumed one another as new lovers do and then he was gone.... Over the next year I waited through basic training and then he went to tech school and we could talk and write letters again. He came home for christmas with this new wiry, muscly body and sadness in his eyes and my heart couldn't accept being without him. We decided soon after that visit to go monogamous and I went out to visit him on the Gulf Coast for valentines day. When I arrived at the small airport I didn't see him and started down the escalator to the lower level. A huge bouquet of yellow daffodils was thrust in front of my face about half way down and I felt his kiss on my neck. After some hemming and hawing and a summer spent in a tent so I could save money, I moved to his first duty station in Belleville ,Illinois. Now two things I had promised myself were that I would never work at a fast food chain or live in the mid west. And there I was. We lived in a tiny house off base and I got a job tending bar at a couple skeezy joints and he was working all kinds of crazy shifts. We made love two or three times a day most weeks, got in terrible drunken fights and started getting to know each other bit by bit. Six months into it I was pregnant. Being young and idealistic we decided to have the baby and get married. Then came the orders to Germany which we had both pushed for and when our son was 8 months old we moved across the ocean. Two months after arriving I was pregnant again and very nearly had an abortion but my husbands eagerness to have another baby rubbed off on me enough for me to change my mind.
That's the epidermis. The dermis is that I had quit my jobs once I became too sick from the pregnancy and I didn't have any friends in Illinois so my days were punctuated by the coming and going of my husband's little red car. I would loiter in front of our kitchen door window until I saw that flash of red. During the days I would invent errands for myself to get out of the house. I was for the first time since leaving home, fully dependent on someone and it didn't feel totally right. After all I certainly wasn't thinking about marriage and never really felt that stereotypical urge that women have to 'be taken care of'. I had left behind a very full and fulfilling social life and family support network and wasn't able to share my changing life and body. After the first baby was born I remember a lot of new parent bliss and the isolation became more bearable as my days were filled with the new wonders of a baby. I finally made a good friend with a baby around the same age who was as laid back as I and who could sink a glass of wine with me in between nursings. Then we moved to Germany and the next baby came which I really wasn't ready for. She was a screamer and I had a very busy toddler and most days felt exhausted and overwhelmed. I let the baby cry a lot and felt a lot of resentment towards her. Then I felt guilty because our bonding wasn't happening as effortlessly as it had with my son and I worried that she would be an unhappy person because I let her cry so much. Those were dark days. I didn't want to make love, kiss or even to be affectionate with my husband- that lasted nearly four years. I felt like a part of myself that had once been so healthy had sickened and died. The guilt was endless-knowing how much hurt and insecurity I was causing my husband sent me on a downward spiral. I never felt like I had enough for anyone let alone myself. Again I made one dear friend and this time she left me about half a year after my daughter was born.
Trying to insert myself into military life and the things that wives do has been like the old square peg in a round hole saying. The isolation got worse and the depression got worse. I had lived a prior life full of amazing friends, artists, musicians, thinkers, doers, questioning, seeking, creating and supportive people. Now my social life revolved around the occasional work function where none of the young 20 something single soldiers were interested in my mind or what I might have to say. I am a spouse and a mother and it stops at that. I felt myself slipping farther and farther away from an identity that I could be proud of. My marriage was falling apart and had been for a long time. I started to internally shoulder all the blame for this and all of my unhappiness. One night found me wailing and sobbing and a mantra escaped- " I hate myself, I hate myself.." I had one brief thought that everyone would be better off without me and that was it. I made an appointment the next day to see a doctor on base, sucked up my pride and asked to be put on an anti- depressant. I am of the opinion that Americans are over medicated and I had just read the report that the waste from Americans is full of by products from anti- depressants and is affecting the water life. But my husband was preparing to deploy for six months and I couldn't mess around- I was about to be a single parent and could not risk being that depressed. I asked to be put on Welbutrin because I had read that in some clinical studies it was shown to improve sexual disfunction which I hadn't been diagnosed with but I certainly wasn't functioning like I wanted to in that department. I started the medication and my husband shipped off. We didn't make love the night before he left and our parting was thick with sadness and relief.
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