It Was Saturday Morning, and All Through the House…

Not a creature was stirring, and it was absolute bliss.

Any of your grow up and realize “Oh, wow, I’ve never actually ever been alone. Ever.”? Yeah, me too.

Once I had kids, and I learned what it truly meant to never be alone, and to always be on call, I started to fantasize about what being alone would be like. I tried to pull from memories, but I quickly realized that I had never actually ever been alone. My whole life has been spent living with other people. The first 18 years I lived with and around my huge, messed up family. Then off to college, with roommate after roommate. Then, during the roommate phase of my blossoming adulthood, I met my now husband and “lived with him” (aka, crashed at his place every night) for a few years before we got married and…. moved in together officially.

All the college living situations, and even early marriage, was alright though. It was way more freedom than I had growing up, so it never really felt heavy on me. I was glad to live with people who were nice and enjoyed the same types of things I did. I never considered my alone time, because I could just go out and have it, or retreat into my “office,” whenever I wanted. It wasn’t really until I had kids that I became overwhelmed with un-aloneness. (It’s a word now, deal with it.)

For those of you who have kids, I’m sure you understand exactly what I mean. I don’t have to write anything else. You’re most likely nodding along behind your screen in solemn understanding. I see you out there. For those of you who do not have kids, imagine it’s like having the most cringe friend you know attached to your hip night and day. Not only are they constantly talking about things you have no interest in, but they also just sneezed on you, and spilled your coffee. Wait, now they ate half of your breakfast, then told you how gross it was, and that your other friend makes better breakfast.

Imagine this for years and years. You have another friend in your house that takes some of the load off here and there. Maybe your cringe-friend sidekick can switch to the other persons hip for a second. You can breath a little better, move around quicker, but you can definitely still hear them talking, and absolutely still cater to their needs, even when they are with someone else. You wonder why you do that, and come to the conclusion that you do it because they are mostly your friend. Afterall, you spend the most time with them. You were their friend first. It should be your responsibility. You’re just grateful that your good friend who lives with you would take on the burden for a bit so you can do a few things by yourself without having to answer questions like “can I have some chips?” “Do monkeys live in the ocean?” “How many years were you in school, and which year was your favorite, and why?” while you are pooping, or washing dishes, or folding laundry.

But you see, even when your cringe-friend is occupied, you are still never alone. You will never be alone as long as they live in your house (and I’ve heard rumor from the old-lings, that it doesn’t even end when they leave), because even when they are not right beside you, your thoughts are always on when they will be back, and when they do come back, what will they need from you? What can you do while they are away for a few minutes that will benefit them in the long run. Whether that’s making them lunch, washing their favorite stuffed animal, or vacuuming their room so they don’t get sneezy. You can never be alone because they live inside your head. Even when you’re on vacation (and let’s face it, you haven’t had a proper vacation in ten years) you are still considering them in everything you do. “Oh, they’d love this candy.” “I wonder how they slept last night?” “They start school in two weeks, I need to make sure they have some new shorts. Their lunchbox was looking rough at the end of last year too, better get one that zips up all the way. I can’t remember where I put the teacher list, but I know there were at least 15 supplies needed per kid. Wonder if it’s cheaper to get it on Amazon or Wal-Mart? I’ll have to compare when we get home….”

Meanwhile, my friend who lives with me, and who will play and distract the cringe-friend for me, is thinking about exactly what is happening in the moment and nothing else. He has the ability to be alone physically for work, with friends, on vacation, during sleep. Even when he’s with the cringe-friend, he’s not enveloped by them. I am in awe of this ability, and wonder why this burden of un-aloneness plagues my every moment. Why have I taken on the mental load of myself, my friend, and all of my cringe-friends? Why do any of us? Why does it seem like it’s still so engrained in us to not be able to share this burden equally? Why don’t our friends who live with us see how weighed down we are?

I’m lucky that I do have a friend who is willing to do whatever I ask to help share in this life, but if you caught what I just said, and I’m sure a lot of you did, I do tend to have to ask. Why? If I’m never alone, you’d think someone would actually look over at me and realize that I am carrying the majority of the load in this life. Can’t they see that my back is breaking? That my mind is so full it may explode? That my life has never been, and probably will never be just my own? Why do I cater to the needs of everyone, while feeling like I need to ask, beg, plead to be seen and helped?

Why do we mothers live like this? What is it about our world that still calls on mothers to carrying the mental load for everyone, even while things are improving with dads becoming more involved? I’ve read a few articles recently about Millennial men being better and more involved fathers and husbands, and I could not agree more. Compared to my grandfather and my dad, my husband is a fucking rock star, and I am very grateful for that. There is still such a wide, cavernous divide though. I feel both grateful for the support I get that the women before me didn’t, and also greedy for things to be better going forward.

I guess I just wish that I actually felt seen in this house full of people. How can it feel so lonely when I’m never actually alone?

If you are interested in things like this, take a look at these two comics I came across while googling this topic in a fit of insanity last week. The first one is a very simplified look at this issue, and the second is a more in-depth look.

I Can Hear Everything

It’s not fun being able to hear all of the tiny background noises that most people naturally block out. I can hear the cars driving on the main road a block away. I can hear the construction equipment a few miles down the road. I can hear every fucking mower and weed eater on every street in the neighborhood running simultaneously on the weekends.

My brain hears all of this, plus every single thought that flows through my ever moving mind. Sometimes I catch myself having two very distinct and different thoughts at the same time. Maybe I’m trying to remember the name of one of the specials teachers my kid has, along with what I’m having for lunch. Maybe I’m thinking about how the planet is boiling us alive, while I’m also reminding myself to put the clothes in the dryer.

Life is so noisy. It’s never been quiet for me, for even a moment. I sometimes wonder if that’s exactly why I suffer from anxiety and depression. Who wouldn’t, when the noise of being alive never stops.

I know my husband doesn’t have these issues, and his mind is as quite as, well, I don’t know exactly what is quiet, but I hear people likening silence to a church mouse, so, let’s say as quiet as a church mouse. I wonder what it must be like in there. If he does have a thought, does it sound like an echo against the emptiness of the other non-existent thoughts? Is it just a passing thought that comes and goes, with no response from yourself? Does it stand out as something unusual? Maybe he doesn’t even consider any of this…. and maybe I do because I can’t fucking stop thinking about everything all the fucking time.

Ever tried meditating like this? It goes a little like this….

*deep breath* okay. Empty mind. You can think of something, but make it nice and relaxing. Think of a tree. Oh, moss underneath a tree. Like the moss in the side yard. You should check the plants over there, the hydrangea wasn’t looking great last time you went out. The moss looked great though. Too bad other plants don’t grow as easily as moss. You probably need a soil acidifier. The blueberries could use it too. Weird how some plants need that and some don’t. Don’t these plants just grow wild? No one is acidifying them out there. Maybe they only grow well in naturally acidic soil though. Wonder where that is… under certain trees? Do some trees make the soil acidic? Wish I had a tree that did that. Then I wouldn’t have to buy any. Wonder if it’s on Amazon? Probably shouldn’t use Amazon though, they suck. Bezos is a clown. Maybe shop local? I’ve seen it local, somewhere? Which nursery was that? Wonder if it’s the one with the new coffee place. If I had a million dollars… I’d buy so many plants. Oh, right, shit…. think of a tree. A big, shady tree, with a soft patch of moss. Imagine you’re lying in it. Hopefully there are no ants. Ugh, itchy just thinking about it. These pants are weird. My belly is pooching out. Guess no one can see it, but I can feel it. Feels like it’s sitting on my thighs. God, how big am I now? Wait, if I sit up it doesn’t do it. Good. Practice good posture. That will help your pooch. Strengthen those core muscles. Back hurts though. I’m so out of shape….but maybe if I could just FUCKING FOCUS ON A DAMN TREE I COULD RELAX.

Anyway…. I’m off to go be like this forever. I hope you all are having a nice, quiet Friday.

Gender Norms Are Boring

I grew up in a family filled with women who are absolute bosses. The women were the ones doing the painting, taking care of the pool equipment, fixing broken appliances, and also cooking, cleaning, and raising kids. They kick so much ass, and really go against the grain of most gender norms. They taught me to be the same way, but it does feel very lonely out here still, even as the tides begin to slowly change.

I love doing the yard work (unless it’s 110 degrees), I love painting rooms in the house, I love putting together furniture.

But I’m one of only a handful of my women friends who enjoy this type of thing, and that’s fine. Not wanting to do these things isn’t the problem. The problem comes when women, and men, say things like “laundry is women’s work,” or “yardwork is man’s work.” And you’d think we would be past this by now, but I still hear it all the time. Even when I am out mowing, I’ll have neighbors that I barely know say “Hey, why isn’t your husband doing this?” Um, cause I am perfectly capable, Brenda. Now, get off my lawn! (Yeah, I’m almost 40, I get to say things like this, but only to other adults, kids are welcome as long as they don’t touch my plants!)

What do we teach kids when they hear things like this? What if these girls don’t even want to attempt to put a piece of furniture together, and can never feel that high of putting in that last screw and standing back to bask in the glory of a finished bookshelf. She now has a place for all of her comic books and Legos! What if our boys never want to try cooking? Some of the worlds best chefs are men… so the fact that this “cooking is women’s work” thing still exists is unbelievable. I even know a guy who refused to let his toddler boy have a kitchen playset… and he worked in a restaurant with a mostly male cooking crew! WHAT?

I don’t really know why I needed to vent about this. Maybe it’s because I just finished putting together a piece of furniture and I’m still riding that high. I want everyone to be able to feel accomplished in whatever they want to try. So, stop speaking to your kids in gender certainties. If you are a women, and you hate yardwork, don’t say it’s “man’s work,” say “it’s just not something I personally enjoy.” This leaves the door cracked for your kids, so they know that if they want to step through that door, it’ll be okay, no matter their gender.

What Do YOU Have To Be Depressed About?

I am a very open book.  Even in my real life, I have never shied away from being honest and open about my struggles with everything from infertility, depression, and being a parent.  I have often posted long Facebook posts about these struggles, detailing how I feel, what I do to maintain my life, and helpful words for those going through the same things.  I’ve had a lot of people thank me for being open, and that’s why I do it.  You are certainly not alone, and I want you to always know that.

….but my family thinks my depression is not real.  They think it’s impossible for me to suffer from something when I have no reason to be sad.

“How could you possibly be sad? You have a great husband, great kids, a great house!” – Mom

“You need to just quit thinking about other people so much. You can’t fix the world. That’s what’s making you sad.” – Dad

“Just don’t be sad anymore, okay?” – Grandma

I’ve tried explaining that depression isn’t just being sad about things happening around you.  Yes, it can be a contributing factor, certainly.  It can even be the main reason you’re depressed, like if you are dealing with a loss of a loved one, or a job loss.  Depression can also be hormonal and chemical in nature.

My depression is hormonal.  The hormones from my autoimmune thyroid condition, and the hormones from my PCOS, and the hormones from my PMDD and join together and crush my soul with their spikes and dips.  There is rarely anything I can do to control it.  I take medication and supplements.  I eat right (I do not drink alcohol, I do not eat gluten, dairy, or sugar), I try to do yoga stretches (exercise is hard when your body is constantly aching from autoimmune issues), and I try to meditate.  I spend 98% of my life focusing on trying to feel better, and doing everything in my power to try to avoid another depressive episode.

My family knows this, yet they still constantly tell me that I can’t be depressed.  Sometimes they blame it on my caring about things, sometimes they blame it on me being sensitive, sometimes they blame it on me being a millennial.   I mean, I suppose being a sensitive, caring, 36 year old might be the cause of my hormonal imbalances…. wait, no, that’s stupid.

If your parents are unable to understand you or help you, help yourself.  Research, talk to people who understand, talk to a therapist.  Do whatever you can to try and improve your health.  I’m going on years of trial and error, working out exactly what helps and what doesn’t.  It’s a constant battle and a constant struggle to feel good, or to even feel “normal”, but I am constantly trying.  Constantly working.  Constantly pushing through….  because what happens if I give up?  What happens if I give in to the depression and let these emotional neglectful family members get in my head and echo around in there with the already dreadful voice of depression?  How can I ever heal?  How can I ever be a good mom, a good wife, a good person if I let them tell me that I can’t feel better while being who I am?

I can feel better, and I will feel better, and since they cannot be part of my healing, their words will be one more thing I no longer ingest.

My First Father’s Day Awake

I’ve always known that I didn’t much care for my dad.  We have our good moments, but they are few and far between.  Mostly my relationship with him has been avoidance.  Avoiding his alcoholic assholery, his demeaning comments about how I look and/or act, and his narcissism, which oozing out of his pores along with the booze.

I do not like my dad.  I honestly never have, but this year really opened my eyes.  I have no desire to talk to him, and when i see I message or missed call from him, I am filled with dread.  I’m not good at hiding how I feel, even within a text message, so he knows.  He is very aware of how much I’ve changed, and how I am unapologetic for it.  To say that his narcissism is eating him alive with “HOW DARE SHE?!” is putting it mildly.  The other day, after I didn’t quickly respond back to an “I love you,” I was confronted by my mom, demanding that I tell my dad I love him even though “we haven’t always been the best parents, but we are the only parents you’ll ever have.”  Anyone else ever heard this shit before?  I was sick, and disgusted by feeling obligated to respond.

I did respond though. I said “Love you,” and was immediately told to also respond to my dad’s phone too.  It was torture, but I did it, and yesterday I had to send “happy father’s day”… and it took me until 3pm to actually do it.  (Why did I feel like I “HAD” to?)

This was the first year I haven’t wanted, in any way, to send that message.  The emotional damage my parents put me and my sister through as we were growing up is weighing on me now.  As a mom, I struggle.  I struggle with understanding why I am always so angry and why emotions of my kids are hard for me to process.  I am an HSP (highly sensitive person), I have emotions leaking out of me at every moment, but when my kids are overly needy, I get angry.  Why?  Because that’s how my parents responded to me.

When I was emotional growing up (often), instead of being supportive, my parents made fun of me.  They ridiculed me for being upset, for crying, for locking myself in the bathroom so they could’t see me.  They STILL talk about it, and make fun of me for it.  I’m in my mid 30’s.

I suffered from emotionally neglectful narcissistic parents, and I am on a road to recovery.  I need to fix myself so that I can be a better mother.  I have to fix my trauma that they caused, just so I can live a better life.  Just so I do not pass this trauma to my own kids.

Who else is carrying the trauma of someone else?  Who else is trying to heal right now?  What’s your first step?

My first step is reading “Adult Children of Emotionally Neglectful Parents.”  It’s been so accurate it’s actually making me mad that I didn’t realize how much damage I have from them.  I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive them, especially since I have spent the past 3-4 years trying to discuss it with them, only to be told that I’m just too emotional and sensitive and that “your life isn’t that bad!  Quit being dramatic!”

I am angry, and I am determined to work through this anger and get to a point where I am at peace with being myself and where I am able to be an understanding mom to my own children.  I cannot let their mistakes be my mistakes. I cannot let their 30+ years of infectious words keep seeping through me.

I am kind, I am intelligent, I am capable.  I suffer from anxiety, depression, and anger.  I can and will learn to use everything I am, and everything I suffer from, to improve myself and live a healthier, happier life.  Healing starts when you’re ready, and I’m ready now.

Puzzles

I’m back into puzzles during quarantine.  Puzzles have always been a form of escape for me.  It keeps my attention and requires some thought “hmm, is this blue more purple blue or more blue blue?”

I used to do a 1,000 piece puzzle every Christmas at my house.  It gave me a few days to be by myself and not have to be part of my family unit.  My family unit is more scattered and confusing than a 1,000 piece puzzle poured out onto a piece of poster board, and has only become worse over the years as they age.  A puzzle can be put back together and make sense, my family can’t.  They are like a wet bag of puzzle pieces – broken and peeling away from themselves.

I’m going to be using this blog again so that I can vent and feel better.  I need something.  Yesterday my mind and body basically stopped working after a two hour panic attack.  I laid down and slept from 2:30pm-6pm.  I’m going gray in my mid-30’s.  I no longer find my crafts entertaining, and it’s hard to push myself to even attempt to make something new.  

I know this pandemic is changing everything forever… can you feel it too?

Minimalist Life: In Progress…

I’ve always been a minimalist at heart.  I’ve never wanted for much, I don’t enjoy buying things just to buy them, and too much decor has always driven me crazy.  Growing up in a single wide trailer with a family of four didn’t help.  I was always surrounded by things.  Other people’s things, and things other people thought I wanted or needed, despite my constant pleas for them to stop buying me things.

The problem is that most people don’t understand the concept of someone not wanting things.  Who wouldn’t want a brand name sweater?  A pretty vase? A basket full of scented lotions?  What kind of person doesn’t want a heartfelt gift?

Well, I guess me.  I don’t want anything from anyone.  Well, except the unconditional overwhelming love and adoration of my husband.  That is something I must have, but I am needy and I digress…

My main point here is that I want to truly embrace the minimalist life.  Being truly stuck at home for the past… decade? I kid, five weeks?  I honesty don’t know anymore… but being stuck at home with my kids has shown me, and 100% verified to me, that my kids don’t need things either.  They don’t want things.  The less cluttered the space, the more they want to be in it.  Give them a room filled with toys? No thanks.  Give them an empty kitchen table and you get to see the true magic of childhood.  Playdough and paint and glue.  Give them a pretty bare bedroom?  Relaxing time to read or play on their Ipads (only learning apps, don’t come at me).

This quarantine serves as a reminder to us all that we don’t NEED this much stuff.  We don’t need a new amazon box at our doorstep each day with a new toy or gizmo or thing.  We don’t need to go to Target to “just look” and bring home $100 in stuff we didn’t need in the first place.  (I’m not knocking a long stroll through a Target with a coffee in search of necessities… I hope to do that again someday…)

What do we really, truly need?

For me, since this whole situation began, I’ve needed comfort of my husband, the laughs of my kids, food, soil, and seeds.  We’ve learned to cook new things, we have started a garden for the first time (Home Depot delivery), we have done puzzles, had dance parties, played outside for a couple hours each day, learned how to do distance learning.  We have adapted to a new normal, and it turns out that the lack of non-essentials is a true bright spot in this new world.  I hope this teaches a lot of people about the difference between want and need.  I hope it shines a bright light on over-consumption and what the hours of your working life truly should be spent on.

And on a completely different note, I hope everyone is safe and happy.  I hope you have what you need, and if you don’t, I hope you have the help you need to survive right now.  This is not a walk in the park.  It’s not a picnic.  It’s hard.  It’s such a change and a struggle, mostly mentally.  I know I’ve been suffering mentally.  I’m trying to take each day as it comes, sometimes each hour.  Things will, someday, somehow, come to a new normal.  We will see friends and family again.  We will be free of the confines of our houses.  We will work and play in public.  Things will never be the same as they were, but our new normal will be coming, and we will adapt to it, as we have adapted to this new normal.  Hang in there, everyone.

 

I’m Still Here

I remembered that my last post was a little… scary? I wanted to update and let you all know that I’m still here, and I’m feeling better.  I’ve changed up some supplements, I’ve stayed away from things that get in my head (family drama, mostly), and I also quit drinking three months ago.

Baby steps… but I’m doing a lot better.  I hope you are all well, and I hope you have wonderful holiday, or non-holiday, days ahead.

I am horrifically depressed

I’ve been battling depression since having my oldest, who will be six in June.  I used to think it was post-partum depression, and that it would eventually go away, but now that my youngest is three, and the depression is getting worse, I guess I have to assume it’s something else.

I’m currently blaming my thyroid, which is probably pretty accurate, but to be honest with you, it’s also my kids.

My kids. They are constant.  They are noise and touching and neediness.  They are nonstop, even at night now.  There is no rest, even when I’m resting, because I know that at any second they will be up, and so will I.

I never wanted to have kids.  I knew my mentality wasn’t for kids.  I had kids because my husband wanted a kid, and I would give my husband the moon, if he asked.  And even though I struggled with my daughter, I didn’t have THIS hard of a time.  My son is hard headed and horrible.  He hits, kicks, screams.  He says “no” more than he takes breaths.  He is pure strength and noise.  He has worn me down, and now there is nothing left.  I feel empty of compassion and love.  I wake up every morning, wishing I was somewhere else.  Wishing they were someone elses responsibility.  Wishing my husband and I were rich enough to have someone else do it all while we did whatever we wanted.

Even my husband is tired and frustrated, and I joke that he is about 98% robot.  We are always irritated and never get any real time together, besides an hour or so a few nights a week.  We are struggling, and it’s mostly because I am struggling.

I told him I need help.  So we are trying to send my son to a neighbors house a few times a week so she can watch him for me while my daughter is at school.  I’m also going to go to the doctor and try to get my thyroid (or whatever) in check.  I know something is messed up because my body temperature keeps dropping to 95.9.  Something is off physically, could it be causing all of this mental strife?

I feel like this post is all over the place and spacey.  I feel like I can’t really get my thoughts across in a way that makes sense or really explains what I’m feeling.  To sum it up, I feel nothing.  Nothing but a longing to be somewhere else.

Am I alone in this motherhood struggle?  Is anyone else empty of joy?

It’s been almost six years since I’ve felt like myself.  Or, an old version of myself that I liked more.  I asked my husband if I seemed like the same person and he said “no, you don’t seem happy.”  He’s right. I’m not.

Will I ever be happy again?

Little At Home – Big At School

Two months ago, I was so delighted with the idea of my oldest starting kindergarten, and my youngest going to preschool two mornings a week, that I basically sang while I spoke about it.

Eeeeight hours alooooone each weeeekkk!!!

Then my oldest started kindergarten three weeks ago, and my youngest and I suddenly had some time together, just he and I.  It felt like I was meeting him for the very first time.  It amazed me that he already had so many thoughts and opinions on the things in his life.  He also started speaking so much more, and so much more clearly.  (My daughter is a chronic over-talker, she only stops talking when she falls asleep).

It was a whole new world for me and my little man.  So, yesterday I decided that preschool can wait.  This year, I’m giving my littlest a whole year of mommy to himself.  I can’t wait to see how he grows over this next year, what he learns, and the little person he becomes.

On a separate note…. how on earth is my daughter already old enough to be in kindergarten?  She just turned five at the end of June, but kindergarten in our district started July 11th because we are year-round.  So far she seems to be doing amazingly well, but I’m not going to act like I  don’t still feel like it’s wrong to drop her off at school and leave her for 7.5 hours.  Watching her tiny little feet walk down the big bus steps in the afternoon.  Hearing her talk about new friends, and people teasing her for this and that.  It’s all very emotional for me, since I never liked school, even kindergarten.  I’m glad she’s enjoying it, but I do worry that school is going to rob her of some innocence that could have been kept for longer if I had had the ability (mentally) to home-school.

I guess the point of this parenting business is that you never actually know the best thing to do.  You just have to trust your gut and keep your own insecurities in check so that they don’t rub off on your kids.  E loves school, S loves being home.  So, right now they are both thriving, and that’s good.