Teh Awesome

Yesterday I received some less than lovely comments and a few emails, all of which I deleted. (Promise all of you whose comments are showing in yesterdays post, it wasn’t you. In fact, none of it came from people I know.) It’s hard not to take it personally, even if it comes from strangers.

Here’s where it got a little mean though. There is this idea that therapy is a magic fix. I was told that I’m depressed, bitter, angry and need therapy. Therapy would make me better. Therapy would magically cure all of my ills. If I was in therapy, I’d find happiness and not have any more problems. Then, I’d stop writing depressing posts and everyone would like me. Yes, that last part was actually said to me.

I know this is my blog. I know I can do, or not do whatever I want and say whatever I want. I just want this out there, so everyone knows. Maybe then, the people who like to tell me how depressing I am, will at least get a clue and hit the little red X at the top of the screen.

I am in therapy. I have been since September. I am paying out of pocket, 100% for a very good therapist. I could have paid for a new Macbook, paid for BlogHer 2010 and taken my kids to DisneyLand this summer on what I’ve paid for therapy so far. I won’t be doing any of those things, because my mental health is more important.

I am medicated. I know there can be a stigma behind it. I don’t really care. In this moment, I need it. We tried lowering it for a few months and I’ve had to up it again in the last few weeks. Will I need it forever? Maybe. Do I know I need it to function right now? To keep my depression managable? Yes. I do.

Every day, I get out of bed and do what I need to do to take care of me and my kids. And the dog, the house and the car.

My dad and step-mom are morons who have no idea what they are missing out on. My dad choose his wife and her evil spawn over me and my brothers, years and years ago. I can’t change that. Nothing I do, or say will change that. No matter what I said yesterday, I know this to be true. I stopped mattering to him, when he moved in with her. My brother fared only a bit better. I am used to and pretty much ignore his lack of interest in me. However, when it comes to my brother, I get angry.

In September, I started dealing with abuse issues from my childhood. I’d never, ever dealt with any of it before. I’d stuffed it all. Un-stuffing it, almost broke me. It still owns me. Maybe it won’t one day, but it does in this moment.

In January, my husband left me. My husband of almost 11 years. The only man I’ve ever been with. After 16 years together, he no longer loves me.This? Is not something I can get over in seven weeks. It’s gonna take awhile.

Friends who I’ve known my entire life are not really my friends anymore. A lot of reasons have contributed to this. Mostly though, we’ve all changed. None of us are the people we once were. Especially me. I’ve made amazing new friends, none of whom live here. Sometimes that really sucks, because I feel very alone here. However, they are all worth it.

All of this is harsh. It’s hard to deal with.  This place, my blog, is a form of therapy for me. One that’s way cheaper than the amazing woman I see every week. I write what I’m feeling. I write my inner thoughts. I am doing the best I can. It may not be enough for some people. If you find me to be too much to deal with, please, feel free to stop reading. I understand. But I’m not going to stop writing what I want too on my blog.

This is a hard time in my life. Very hard. In my trying to make it through each day, I find that I’m forgetting things. Small things. Things like, I’ve needed to buy more Tums for a week. (Can someone explain to me why I still get heartburn when the boy is nearly 16 months old?) Things like, my printer has needed ink for three weeks. Have I been places where I could buy these things? Oh yes, many times over. But I forget when I’m there, because my brain is on overdrive trying to figure out things, that it just doesn’t understand yet.

Where is my plug for my iPod? Why can’t I find my 2008 taxes? Did I give Morgan, Bailey’s lunch today? All very good questions. Things I’d normally be able to give you answers for. Right now though? You guess would be as good as mine.

Anyway, I have a few things that I wanted to remember. In case I forget later. I thought it may be good to write them down here.

-I’ve been having trouble getting Bailey to eat. It’s slowly getting better. She’ll eat for me, but she’s still not eating much when she’s with her dad. It’s the stress, it just makes her un-hungry. Also, she’s a complete mama’s girl. However, when you are only in the 4th percentile for weight, you can’t afford to miss many meals.

Anyway, last Thursday she came into my bedroom in the morning and we had this conversation:

Bailey: Mama, guess what?

Me: noticing that she is butt nekkid. Um, I don’t know, you forgot how to put clothes on?

Bailey: No.

Me: An alien ate all of your clothes while you were sleeping.

Bailey: NO MAMA.

Me: It’s nekkid day at school and I missed the memo?

Bailey: laughing. No silly.

Me: I give up love. What?

Bailey: I’M HUNGRY. Like super-dup really hungry mommy. I NEED pancakes.

Me: cries.

I took them to ihop for breakfast and then took them to school an hour late. Sometimes, it’s just the right thing to do.

- Harrison does this thing where he makes you get up from where you are sitting to follow him. He pulls on your finger and makes you follow him around. Sometimes it’s to retrieve his Mater car from someplace where he can’t get it. Sometimes it’s to show you the fridge. Or the mess he made of the dog food again. Sometimes, he wants you sit somewhere else. Like two spots over on the couch. Or on the other side of his train table. It’s very adorable. We call it, Harrison’s adventures. He’s taking us on an adventure. When he’s done with you, he lets go of your finger, but not until he is done. He’s a very cute little dictator.

-The girls and I have been watching American Idol. Although I’m a mean mom and I make them watch it the next night. I can’t handle watching it live. Commercials and I don’t really get along. I also need to able to fast forward during some of it. The other night, we were watching the second episode from last week. Morgan and I were both covering our face and plugging our ears at the same things. Go past this mom, she kept saying. It’s too painful. This person shouldn’t be on the show. Agreed baby girl. Agreed. Last year, she made me suffer through it all. This year? She’s come over to the dark side. The, I can’t stand to watch people make fools of themselves on TV side. It’s about dang time.

-I have posts that I’ve written. Posts that I’m unsure if I’ll post. Or if I do, I will try to give you guys some other stuff to read as well. I adore you all. But I know, that you worry. That I worry you. I know that I’m depressing to read these days. That honestly may not change for awhile. But I need you to know that I am okay. This space is my outlet. It always has been. I write things here, that I’d only say out loud to my mom, my best friend and my shrink. I promise you all, I am okay. Not great, not even good, but okay. I am taking care of myself and my kids. We are surviving. One day, we will get used to this. We’re not there yet. But we’re all taking the right steps.

-In other news, I’m going to be working on my blogroll for the next few days. It will be on the page marked friends. Right now if you hit the friends button, it just has the post I wrote about 31 unknown bloggers in it.

If you’d like to be on my blogroll let me know and I’ll make sure to add you.

I can look at things from all sides. Generally.

Some days though I have a real hard time seeing the positive in anything. I am not the world is ending type. I don’t believe in the 2012 hype. I don’t believe that California is going to fall into the ocean. I don’t worry about the polar ice caps melting and us all being frozen alive. At least not in my lifetime. I don’t worry about dying for some reason. Probably a good thing too.

No, it’s the smaller things that I worry about. The things that I have no real ability to control. I wouldn’t say I’m a pessimist. I am close though. Maybe a pessimist with optimistic moments?

I am the girl who envisions car crashes. I get nervous when anyone else is driving but me. When I get a phone call from someone I haven’t talked to in forever, I assume the worst. I have this weird theory that if I think about all the possibilities, it won’t happen. I think about possible injuries before I even do something. I picture in my mind how I will deal with it. I don’t worry about things as I am doing them, just before.

What can I say? I’m an over thinker. I think about conversations that are going to be awkward, before they happen. I think abut everything the other person could say and how I could respond to make it easier. Doesn’t always work, but I try.

I am the mom who doesn’t watch her kids climb on playground equipment, because if I watch I envision the worst. I sit there on my phone, or watch other kids. I am the mom who holds onto her kids shirts on mountain adventures. If I am holding their shirt, they won’t fall off the cliff that is 35 feet away. I *may* be a bit of a control freak.

Climb a mountain? No. Dive off a high dive? Heck no. Sky dive? ARE YOU INSANE!!!

The thing is, despite this, I enjoy life. I do. I have fun. I am not afraid to try new things. I just know that there are certain things I will never do. This won’t make sense, but I’d love to para sail, even though I’m afraid of heights, but I’d never even consider bungee jumping.

Where this really comes into play is when something happens, where I have no control, I freak first, think later.

Last week and for the few weeks prior my husband and I were having major communication issues. All we did was fight. He couldn’t seem to talk to me without starting an argument. As time wore on, I was convinced it was me. I was convinced he didn’t love me anymore. That he wanted to divorce me.

Like I said, I freak first, think later.

The truth is so far from what I thought. Unfortunately this is where I stop talking about it. I know that sounds like a cop out and for that I’m sorry. But my husbands personal issues are his story to tell, not mine and he doesn’t want them shared on here. He’s okay though, just having some issues that he needs to figure out. He didn’t know how to talk to me about it, which just made it seem so much worse.

I wanted to apologize to you all. I am sorry if I worried all of you. I am a freaker. I am a pessimist. I was scared. I thought something and it clouded my world for a few days. It turned out to be not true. Although, since I’m not a mind reader (my crystal ball seems to be defective) it was hard to know what the heck was going on. Thank god it wasn’t what I thought. What we have to deal with, what is going on with Logan is fixable. Deal-able.

I couldn’t have fixed what I thought was the problem. I couldn’t have fixed him not loving me anymore. Luckily I don’t have to try.

I started writing when I was eight years old. I was given a notebook at my birthday party and I just started writing. Sometimes I wrote about my day; how annoying my brothers were; what dumb thing my step-mom had said. Other times I wrote stories. Stories about princesses. Stories about little girls with a house full of sisters. Stories of adventure, mystery and occasionally sadness.

I never really kept a diary, it seemed counter productive with the two Houdini twins living in the bedroom next door, so I wrote stories. When I was twelve, my English Lit teacher told me I was a good writer, but if I even wanted it to be anything real, I’d need to stop writing how I talked. I decided that day, that maybe I didn’t want to be a real writer. Hopes of writing the great American novel dashed in one short sentence from a seventh grade teacher.

About four and a half years ago, I went searching for what the term metro sexual meant. I’d heard it, but didn’t quite understand and instead of asking people and possible looking dumb, I decided to Google it. I found what I was looking for, but I also found a blog. The first blog I’d ever seen. Until that day, I didn’t know what a blog was. The blog I found was MetroDad. I was enthralled. I read the entire previous year of his blog. I loved his writing and thought, hey he writes funny stories about his life. I could do that.

It took me a while to get up the nerve to comment. By then I’d started reading several other blogs, mostly daddy bloggers funnily enough. (Which is why the, no men at BlogHer thing bothered me as much as it did. These amazing men are the reason I started doing this. I wanted to meet as many of them as possible.) Eventually MetroDad and ChildsPlayx2 got sick of me taking up their comments sections with mini-novels and convinced me to scamper off and start my own blog. It probably was more like, go over there, away from us crazy lady, write elsewhere. Not positive though, is just a guess.

I’ve always loved writing and I adore blogging. I love comments, I love reading what you all write and I love commenting. I even love responding to everyone’s comments. I used to respond to every single comment. Not because I had too, but because I wanted too. Because I had time too.

Twitter has changed that.

The drama that has happened in the past week has set wrong with me. Not just the initial incident. But the aftermath. The vies of attention from everyone else. Everyone wanting their piece heard. I don’t blame them. I’m sure the post I wrote on Sunday night was just that as well. It is human nature to want to say what is on your mind. Especially for those of us who blog.

Then there was the balloon boy. And every celeb death or perceived death that gets talked about. Tweeting about these things takes up days. Paying attention to the tweets takes hours. I lose what people say to me, in the sea of tweets that I don’t care about. There is always drama on Twitter. If there isn’t on a particular day, someone will pick a topic to argue to death.

It’s not even that I care about all of it. But I get sucked in. I have a hard time not. It’s my personality. I am not a drama whore…although some may think so after what I did last night.

I can’t take the drama anymore. I want to go back to blogging. To writing. To commenting.

My reader has over 400 posts in it. All the time. Not by bloggers who I don’t want to read, but bloggers whose writing I adore. I rarely comment anymore. Mostly I skim posts. I hate that I’ve let it get this far. I hate that I’ve let Twitter take over what I loved about blogging.

Last night, I went private on Twitter. I will probably remain that way. I also un-followed 200 people. I possibly should have done it and not said anything. I made the mistake. I will apologize for it. I am truly sorry for any drama I cause by tweeting at all last night. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was pissed about some things that happened yesterday and let the drama get too me. As pissed as I was, I’m shocked I didn’t delete the whole thing. I would have regretted that.

A few of you may have been unfollowed by mistake. I’ve already re-followed a few people who that happened too…people who I talk to everyday. It wasn’t my intention to piss off/upset anyone. Truly, I didn’t recognize most of the names. If we talk, if we are blog friends and you realize I unfollowed you, let me know, I’ll fix it. I was pissed and didn’t do this as clearly as I thought I was.

Either way, I’m tired of the drama. Twitter is now taking a backseat in my online life. I am not deleting it, but I’m taking back blogging. I’m leaving the drama behind. My friend GrayMatter created a badge last night. One that I’m going to wear with pride. This is now a drama free blog. I love it. I can send it to anyone who wants it.

Today is a new day. A lovely drama free day. At least for me. Call me naive or an asshat if you want. But this is how I plan to continue from here on out. Today is the day I remember why I loved this so much.

I don’t even know what to say. Please forgive me in advance if this is rambly and makes no sense. I am not doing good right now. Haven’t been for over a week. There are things going on right now, things in my face that I am trying to deal with that I just can’t discuss right now. It’s taking every thing in me to just survive.

I know I don’t have to blog. This is not a job, it’s a hobby. I don’t get paid to write; I have no contractual obligation. However, you are my friends and I do feel like I owe you something. Some truth, some knowledge about what I’m going through, so you at least know why I’m not around much.

I love this space, I love writing. I don’t have words right now.

I am struggling to get out of bed each day. To take care of my kids. To manage the seemingly HUGE task in front of me. To heal.

I am not sleeping. I am barely eating. There is a very angry T-Rex sitting on my chest, making it hard for me to breath. My kids, my husband and my best friend/life line are keeping me going right now. It’s a struggle. It’s hard right now.

Before it’s asked, yes I am in therapy, yes I am taking my now upped meds. I am okay. Truly. Don’t worry, I’m not going off the deep end. I’m just dealing with some heavy shit. Some old shit that needs to be dealt with.

I don’t have words. I’ll be around, as always. I’ve commented on some blogs and then others I just can’t. I spend a little time on Twitter and then I just can’t. I’m doing the best I can right now. I hope you’ll understand and give me some time.