I've Lost My Everloving Mind.

You think I jest? Oh, no, my dear darling. I dare not jest.

I have lost my everloving mind.

So guess what.  Hubby got a better job (yay!) so he makes more money (yay!) so we no longer qualify for state assistance (boooo!!). Therefore, daycare went from $400 a month to $680 a month.

Yeahhhh.  That's quite a difference.

My solution to the problem? Sure, I'll become a stay-at-home mommy!





Do you see, now, how I have lost my everloving mind?

Well.

At any rate, I've also opened an Etsy store and created a Facebook page so I can start selling my creativity. Hmm. That sounds rather odd.

See? I've lost my everloving mind.

I like that phrase. Everloving mind.

Everloving mind.

Speaking of which, there's a three year old fussing at me.  Excuse me while I go bang my head against the wall. Toodles!

What goes up... must come down.

I am up.

I mean really up. I'm flying like a bird. I'm smiling, joking, laughing, skipping. It's almost sickening.

But it feels dangerous. The last time I felt this boundless and joyful, it was followed by an equally devastating crash. Now every time I feel happy, now every time I'm on the uphill slope of the roller coaster called life, I get nervous at my overconfidence because I almost *know* I'm going to fall. And maybe that's a bad way of looking at it. Maybe I should be optimistic and thankful for these days of peace and calm that I have been granted. I have been thanking Jehovah and praying often that this high continues.

I don't think I quite know what triggers the lows. I just started therapy, and already I've had a stunning revelation. I am codependent. Reading the information on codependency, I feel weak and disgusting. It's like waking up to realize that every single relationship you've ever had in your entire life is an unhealthy sham. I can't even trust my own definition of love. It's unsettling. Really unsettling. Yes, it is liberating to know that there really is a reason for why I do the things I do, but I never realized how seriously not normal I have become. And I hate so terribly to appear to be crazy.

Well that's a whole other topic, and I'm allowing myself to get sidetracked. Maybe that's what kickstarts the downs. I do too much thinking and soul-searching, and then I get all bothered. At any rate, I am happy to be happy. Perhaps it is because I am remembering to take my medication. Even so, I am anxious. Anticipating. It's like sitting on railroad tracks running through a heavily wooded area. You know the train is coming. You might even hear it coming. But you don't know when it's gonna hit. And you can't run. You can't duck and hide. You're just stuck.

I'm overwhelming myself with thoughts.

Le sigh. I'll save the dramaticism for later.

A picture is worth...

A picture  is worth a thousand words, right?

Well. I wrote an epically long and awesome blog post, which my phone deleted. (Gooo, Android.)

If I try to write it again, I might cry. So forget it.

And anyway, a picture is worth a thousand words.

Outside Looking In

A hideous beast
With fangs and claws
An angry thing
With snarling jaws
It can't be tamed
Or roped or caged
Its entire being
Consumed by rage

A weak little thing
So lost and sad
Behind a wall
Thought ironclad
With tears aplenty
With little hope
A tired being
Unable to cope

A mighty warrior
Strong and assured
Proud of the trials
It has endured
Borderline braggart
With thoughts to speak
High expectations
For all the weak

These three who battle
And hope to win
Ought not to fight
Ought make amends
For I discover
To my chagrin
I am on the outside
I am looking in

(Outside Looking In Painting - - Sabrina Cabada)

Forgiveness.

I was told the other day that I am the sort of person you can anger or offend in the morning and joke around with by the afternoon.  I felt pretty good about hearing that.  I felt that it means I am a forgiving person.

Right?

I begin to wonder.  Maybe it's not about forgiveness.  It is true, I will probably have forgotten about your offense in a considerably short amount of time.  I won't often hold much against you.  But I wouldn't say that I am consciously choosing to forgive and forget.

I allow myself to be exploited.  I let people get away with things for which they really ought to apologize or make right.  This isn't just people who have no love or regard for me; sometimes, it might be close friends or family members.  I have problems telling people no, first of all.  I will bend over backwards and go to excessive lengths, even at my own cost, to help others, whether they are grateful or not.

It's not a personality strength.  It's a character flaw.

Sometimes, people treat me unimaginably bad.  I mean saying and doing the sort of things that might make you never want to speak to them again.  But it never matters.  Tomorrow, we can still be friends, or at least cordial.  I strive to make other people happy, so if you shows signs of caring for me again, I snatch it up and come running back like a stupid puppy, ready to be kicked again.

It infuriates me to think about it.

The problem with this endless scenario is that PEOPLE. NEVER. LEARN.  You teach them that it is okay to keep doing and saying those things because tomorrow you will still do and say as they ask.

If I had to pick the thing I hate most about myself, this flaw would be it.

And I've known and understood this for a while.  What makes me so angry is that I can't figure out how NOT to care, so that I can stand up for myself and actually mean it.  I worry too much about offending people.  And I shouldn't even care in the first place.

I wish I could end on a positive note, firmly putting my foot down and saying, NO MORE!

I really wish I could.

Just. Be. Happy.

Those of you who aren't religious may not follow this post so well, and that's okay.

I came to a realization.

Well, first, before I get ahead of myself, let me start at the beginning.

My car broke. (Piece of crap.) And then my husband's car broke. (Also a piece of crap.) And currently we are both home, unable to find a way in to work. It's a pretty crappy feeling. And to boot, I have been face-to-face fighting with postpartum depression for a good while.

Then I remembered something. It was only here recently that I admitted on my blog that I felt as if we were to be struck with some big, horrible, happening, I might crack and crumble and fall.

Well guess what.

I DIDN'T.

I'm still standing. I didn't even cry or freak out when my husband's car broke. I didn't feel the need to. I just this overwhelming sense of calm. Like I knew everything was going to be okay. It's absolutely inexplicable. I had no real reason to believe everything would turn out fine. As of late, things are snowballing and worsening for us. So far, things haven't even totally started looking up yet.

But.

I'm.

Okay.

I almost wonder if it was a challenge by the Devil. "Oh, really? This girl's about to snap? Ohhh, okay, let me see what I can do to help her along..."

Um, sorry, lame-o. Epic failure, there. I've got someone bigger on my side. And honestly, I think Jehovah is the only reason I didn't fall apart at this sudden turn of events. Car repairs cost money, and two car repairs? Well, it ain't cheap. And I just got back from maternity leave, and we have a newborn, and I'm still trying to straighten out and manage our finances - and then THIS. But that's just fine and dandy. I'm moving forward. And I'm CALM.

Me? Calm? Is that even physically possible? (Sometimes, I've wondered.)

Well, I'm here to tell you that it is. And then I had an epiphany.

I will never be happy if I depend on others for my happiness.

When I fall into my bad spells and begin to self-hate and wallow, I walk around in this murky fog just begging for someone to come to my rescue. (Which no one ever does. Not that I'm bitter about that. Okay, yes, I'm a bitter old hag. Sue me.) But it's no one's responsibility but my own to make sure that I am happy. Yeah, it'd be great to have some support, but since it's just not coming, I've got to keep it moving.

Finding happiness is like finding yourself. You don't find happiness, you make happiness. You choose happiness. -- David Leonhardt

All seasons are beautiful for the person who carries happiness within. -- Horace Friess

Being happy doesn't mean everything is perfect. It means you have decided to look beyond the imperfections. -- Author Unknown

My life in this world is never going to be great. That's fine. I have something so much better to look forward to.

All I have to do, for now, is survive today.

And then tomorrow will come. And I will survive tomorrow.

That's it. That's all I have to do. And since I'm going to be here anyway, I might as well...

Just. Be. Happy.

Mommy is funny.

Mommy is funny.

Especially when she's cleaning out the car at the car wash and misjudges the distance between her head and the ceiling. A swift crack to the skull, and hilarity ensues.

Mommy is funny.

Especially when she doesn't see the coloring book on the kitchen floor as she's hurrying across. Dowwwwn she goes. Has there ever been anything more hysterical?

Mommy is funny.

Especially when somebody cuts her off on the highway and she yells out nonsensical insults such as, "Ya dumb buzzard!" and follows up with a string of Reallys? and Seriouslys? Giggles just can't be helped in this instance.

Mommy is funny.

Especially when a certain little person crawls in her bed at 2 am and step on her legs, stomach, face, and basically any other easily accessible body part. The best part is that she knows she can't be mad or yell because she was little once, too. It is still very funny.

Mommy is funny.

Especially when she hasn't been sleeping for a consecutive amount of days (months) and walks around zombie-style forgetting her own name and putting coffee in her sugar. This dum-dum version of Mommy is a source of endless entertainment.

Mommy is very, very funny.

Especially when she sees a mouse and turns into a little girl all over again.

Don't believe it? Check out Mommy's guest post over at @story3girl's blog Hard to Mommy today. Oh yes, my first guest post. I'm rather excited.

Share your thoughts, cyberspace.

An Objective View of PPD

I'm thinking about it a lot this week.

I've just had a bad few weeks. As I've said before, I've gotten super spectacular at hiding, suppressing, and ignoring many problems that plague me. They're snowballing and avalanching, however, and I can't seem to keep up.

That said, we'll say today is a decent day. As long as I don't think too hard about the recent chain of events that's sent my head reeling, I'm fine. (Do I want to talk about it? No. It's highly personal. Have I done anything wrong? No. Has anyone close to me done anything wrong? No. Some things have come to light that are threatening to completely shatter me if I let them. We'll leave it at that.)

Today, I am thinking objectively about PPD and why it is so hard to seek help.

1) It is SO hard to trust people. Especially for me. I already feel as though depression is a weakness. I despise crybabying and whining and moaning and griping. I never want to seem like that kind of person. EVER. You can say that part of the equation is nothing more than having too much pride. And you'd be right. Also, this world has gone downhill. We're so focused on technology and material things and getting things done NOW and getting what we want NOW that we as humans tend to be a bit self-absorbed. That being the case, it's hard to speak with people when we feel like a burden - a whiny, nutty, messy burden. Add to that the low self esteem that comes with depression, and we genuinely feel as if nobody cares to know.

2) We don't feel as if anything is REALLY wrong. Maybe this is also pride, maybe this is denial. Maybe this is just part of our human tendency to be unable to admit fault. If we admit we are depressed, we admit we have a problem - a problem we already feel is somehow our fault, even if it isn't. That can be a monumental task in and of itself.

3) We have experience with depressed persons. You know that one person who just seems to be a walking black hole? They drag everyone around them down into the abyss with them. Every waking moment for them is filled with heartache and tears and me-me-me, sad-sad-sad, die-die-die. It gets old. It gets annoying. We despise those traits. We decide we never want to BE that person. And then we become that person. And then we despise ourselves.

4) We feel as though being depressed equals being crazy. Or even lazy. I mean, who in their right mind would have such a constant, negative outlook? Well that's just it. You're NOT in your right mind. But you're not crazy. Depression, these days, is wayyyy too common. If you don't get down and overwhelmed and sad from time to time, then you might want to question your sanity. As far as laziness? Never that. Depression is a killer and a disease. It will rob you of your health, your happiness, and your energy. Depression does not equal laziness.

5) We understand that others close to us are depressed, too. When we know that someone else feels just as bad as we do, it can be next to impossible to willingly unload our burden upon that person as well.

6) Therapy carries SUCH a stigma. "You're taking off work? Oh, what for? Where you headed?" Nowhere, just to the nut-doctor so he can fix my head. Nobody wants to admit to that! We don't want the world to look at us like we're crazy, we're weak, we've lost our everlovin' mind. But that's hardly the case. It takes strength to ask for help, to reach out, and to work towards getting better. Letting yourself wallow takes no strength; yes, it saps you of your energy, but it doesn't require strength or persistence. Moving forward does. And sometimes, it hurts. It hurts like Hades. But that which does not kill you can only make you stronger.

7) There is a comfort in depression. Now THAT sounds odd to say. But it's true. After a while, it becomes what we know, and it gets comfortable. Is that a good thing? Hardly! When your scary thoughts stop scaring you, it is REALLY beyond time to get help!

8) We feel like nobody could really understand. This is not at all true. We know, deep down, it's not true. Other people have been through what we have been through. Others have suffered. It's so cliche, but others have it much worse. Depression makes it hard to be objective, however. Regardless, even, of the fact that those we love have never experienced the things we have, they love us enough (usually) to TRY. They can exercise empathy and put themselves in our shoes and work to see why we feel the way we feel. We just have to ask, and then we have to let them. And if that person lets you down, don't give up. Find someone else to listen. Persevere. And if YOU happen to be the one approached by a depressed person, just LISTEN. Just try. You might make a world of difference.

9) It's not depression; it's just anger. WRONG. Depression can manifest itself in anger, bitterness, and frustration. And sometimes, boyyyy is it overwhelming. Bad. We almost turn into a completely different person. Think: "Hulk SMASH!!" It's something like that. If you have an anger problem, you need to seek help and find out why before you hurt yourself or someone else.

10) We let ourselves imagine that if we wait a little while, give it more time, it will go away on its own. That's not exactly the case. Sometimes, it gets buried, and then it rots and festers and begins to eat away at your insides. It's only a matter of time before it bubbles up again, and this time, it's a nasty, snarling, human-eating beast. That's never a good scenario. It's good to seek help BEFORE the inner beast gets too big to tackle.

Writing helps. Total self-evaluation helps. At least for me. I know part of my problem is failure to rely fully on Jehovah. So I don't need to hear about how I should work on that. Thanks, but I'm aware. Even still, I probably need therapy to deal with some of these seemingly insurmountable issues. (Yeah, probably is pushing it. I DO - no ifs, ands, or butts. See? Still have problems admitting to it.)

My best advice, and my conclusion?

To the depressed, Just. Seek. Help. That's all you have to do. Get the ball rolling. It'll all fall together from there. Just stick with it and be persistent.

To those dealing with the depressed,  I beg you, Have. Patience. Try to understand. Keep your judgments and harsh comments to yourself. They DO. NOT. HELP. And they will only make that person NEVER want to come to you again. Do you really want that? Before you quickly say yes, think about it.

Sigh. What a piece of work. That took a lot out of me. Zombie mom is now off to do something that requires considerably less effort.

Til next time, cyberspace.

My Journey Back to Sanity

I am a writer. Heart, body, and soul. Nearly every part of me, nearly every aspect of my personality, has something to do with writing.

I'm a control freak. I love inventing stories, dictating the way a character's life plays out, planning and imagining every minute detail. Which brings me to my next character trait.

I'm slightly OCD. Detail, detail, detail. Perfection! I am my own worst critic. I like having things JUST SO, and when things are out of order, my whole BRAIN gets out of order, and it's impossible to function. This works out well when building a story that actually flows well and makes sense.

I am a hopeless romantic. Ahh, that wonderfully dreadful writer's trait. If it weren't for the romanticism of the writer, we wouldn't have such beautiful stories as The Notebook, eh?

I love to read. I can spend hours with my nose stuck in a book reading the imaginings of another human being. It is endlessly fascinating.

I use big words. Come on now. This is self explanatory.

I feel better after I write. Reading over my last blog post, I was a little shocked at the honesty and disgusted at the wallowing self pity. I already felt better just getting it out of my system. Today, I wrote a guest post for a fellow blogger and Twitter friend, and I'm nearly floating on the clouds. I feel really, REALLY good about what I wrote.

I need to do better.

I stopped writing. It's hard to do with two kids, a husband, and a full time job. I am a growed up now. I have the big R word: Responsibilities.

But I also have a responsibility to myself. And that is to maintain my sanity so I can maintain all of the above mentioned responsibilities.

Lightbulb!

I need to write more. Nothing exorcises inner demons better than the written word.

I'm ready to get better. I'm ready to BE better.

Sanity... here we come!!

Honesty. Brutal honesty.

This is a post I started a while ago. It's been sitting because I think I'm half afraid to finish it.

A MONTH AGO:
I've had a lot of time for self-reflection, lately, driving back and forth to work. Psychology is a subject I very much enjoy. I feel like I need to know and understand WHY we do the things we do. It's fascinating to me.

Lately, however, I've been falling short. I haven't had time for self-reflection or I'm too tired or too frazzled or [insert a million other excuses here]. I avoid and deny. For a long time, I thought that meant living life one day at a time. I thought that meant being strong and pushing forward. Now, though, I'm not so sure.

Things come up. Things happen. It's like having little earthquakes, and suddenly a fracture appears. It's not necessarily due to the strength of the earthquake, but rather an underlying, hidden weakness. That's how I feel. I feel like it's going to take one more earthquake, and I'm going to fracture.

It's amazing to me. Things have happened in my life that I am STILL uncertain about how I got through. Sometimes I really wonder why the heck I am still standing. I know my family history. We tend to crack. There's a definite history of depression and anxiety... and maybe more than a few breakdowns. With a million small things and a handful of horrible I-wouldn't-wish-this-on-my-worst-enemy things piling up... why haven't I cracked? What's going to be the straw that breaks the camel's back? It's a nervous feeling. It's a terrible feeling because I know the last time I had a horrible earth-shaking, heart-stopping terrible life event, I was all but deserted. The people I thought cared were suddenly nowhere to be found. I can't say I've forgiven them - because I haven't. It's hard to forget. It's hard to trust people. I still care about those people. But would I go running to them again? HECK. To the. NO. That begs the question, Where do you go?

I know we're supposed to rely on Jehovah. In my head, I understand that. In my heart, I'm human, I'm fleshly, I'm weak. I withdraw from God in tough situations. I don't think it's because I blame him. I blame me. Self-hate presents a serious road block. I need help and encouragement and love from others. Is that right to demand? I don't know. But it's the simple truth.

TODAY:
I have been blocking too much. It has made me a mean and hateful and angry and bitter person. Maybe I never beat my PPD. Maybe I just buried it. Ignored it. Pretended it didn't exist. Hoped it would go away. None of that worked. It's like capping a volcano. Your efforts are futile, and it will only result in making a bigger mess.

Since I wrote those previous paragraphs, I feel like I have cracked. I have become an emotional, teary basketcase. I'm overwhelmed with an avalanche of emotions and shortcomings. And I hate myself for it. In my eyes, depression is a weakness. I am not a weak person. Well. I like to think I am not. And the fact that I feel the way I do makes me absolutely furious. Why can't I just make myself better? Why can't I get around this and be happy? Why aren't I trying harder? What the heck is the matter with me?!?!!

You can't imagine the self-loathing that comes along with this sort of breakdown.

I went to someone - a close friend - for help. Admittedly, I can be a very proud person. I despise asking for help. I loathe being seen as a weakling. I absolutely abhor crying in front of people. It makes me want to kick my own teeth in.

Well that person let me down. They got angry with me. Maybe I'm not good at saying what I'm trying to say or making sense of the jumbled mess in my head. I opened myself wayyyy up. That is something I very fervently hate to do because EVERY. SINGLE. PERSON. I have ever seriously loved has let me down. This is no exaggeration. I've been let down, dropped on my head, in some serious ways. All I needed was some caring, some love, some understanding. And this person couldn't provide. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I hate being left open. I hate exposing myself. But I did. And it backfired.

So now... I'm rather lost. I don't even know what it is that I need. I was told I just need therapy because this individual is unable - or unwilling - to help me with my "problems."

I don't think I'm crazy. Which is funny because I know that crazy people never realize that they are crazy. I feel like I'm failing. I've been trying SO freaking hard, and I still feel like I'm failing. It's a miserable feeling. And for the first time in a long time, I just don't feel like smiling. I don't feel like teasing or joking or being funny. And that is a very strange and foreign sensation for someone as goofy as me.

And I'm not looking for pity. Don't you dare pity me. Pity feeds the angry beast and turns her into a nightmarish horror. I just need to vent. To breathe a little. To expel some demons. To let go a little.

Maybe I need to know and understand that I'm not alone. Maybe I need someone to validate my feelings and just say, "YES. I understand. And it is okay to feel that way." I pretty much grew up being told my feelings don't matter. The pattern didn't change as I got older.

Mind over matter, I tell myself. You can get past anything if you just MAKE yourself do it, I say.

This week, that's just not working for me.