Hide The Mess

Day Five

Five days I've been on this anti-depressant and on day three I said to my husband that I felt different. But that wasn't actually accurate. I don't feel different. I feel like myself. Like something has been smoothed over inside. I don't wake up resentful and mad. I feel more patient with everyone, more importantly, myself. I know the doctor said it could be weeks before I felt a difference, but for me, the shift was almost immediate. I don't know how much of that is in my head, and I don't think it even matters. I feel better. I feel like me. Finally.

In other news, my son is starting to babble - a lot. He has done this off and on, but I think his language is really starting to take off. He points to the door and says "outside". Or at least, something that resembles the word "outside". He says mama, and cold, and he looks at things and babbles about them, saying something in his baby language in that little baby voice that is so sweet I want to die from the cuteness. I have wanted him to talk for a while. I want to be able to communicate with him. I'm a lady of words and talking and saying things out loud. I love that he's starting to get it, he's starting to communicate in a way that I can kind of sort of understand. I remember this phase from my nieces and nephews. That gibberish language of a toddler that can be maddening and endearing and sweet. He points to the sky and says "airpane". He points to cars (trucks and anything else with four wheels) and says "ca". In fact, sometimes he sounds like a bird - ca! ca! ca! So cute and sweet. He is growing at lightening speed - just like every mother on the planet warned me he would. I look at pictures from a few months ago and the baby he was has disappeared and has been replaced with this little man-child. He is stubborn, like most toddlers. He wants what he wants when he wants it and denying him, even if it's just for a moment, has resulted in some epic fits. He has yet to throw himself on the floor and have a full on tantrum, but I can see that is in my near future.

What I love right now:

How my son uses my hair as his security blanket. If I were to cut my hair, I think he would be traumatized. First thing in the morning, when he's still waking up, he wraps his arms around my neck and buries his hands in my hair. He holds my hair when I'm rocking him. He holds it when he is upset or tired or needs comfort. I thought he would have a blanket or a stuffed animal as a lovey. Turns out, his lovey is my hair. I often wonder if I'm raising a boy to become a man who loves the long haired ladies. There are worse things, I guess.

meds

I'm going to start on an anti-depressant. I thought that might be the course of action my doctor wanted to take. I don't have crazy period cycles or weird flow issues - so she wants to start with this and see how it goes. I'm ok with that I guess. I just want to feel like myself. I am tired of my irrational crazy inside self. I am tired of having to constantly keep my shit in check because my outside does not match my inside, if it did, I would have destroyed all my relationships by now with my insane craziness and mood swings from hell. But I can't keep pretending that things are fine inside when they aren't. So, fingers crossed that I'm on the right path.

This weekend we are taking the kid to the zoo. I am crazy excited about this. Yesterday I took him to the pet store and OH MY GOD, he was so excited about the fish and the birds and the cats. I can't wait to watch him react to more exotic animals! It is so fun seeing these things through my kids eyes. Little things are so exciting and it is a gentle reminder to stop and look at things because there's wonder all around.

keeping score

I used to tell a friend of mine to stop keeping score in her relationship because it was counter productive and didn't really result in anything but a bunch of resentments and "I do this, and you don't do that!" One of the things I've learned is that it's easy to give that piece of advice. It is harder to actually  take that advice (from myself) and do something useful with it. I've found myself keeping score. God. I hate admitting that so much that I want to hit backspace and pretend I didn't let that thought escape. But it's true. I can list so many things that I do to keep our lives running and then I list the things my husband does and MY LIST IS FUCKING LONGER. But it will always be longer, because I am, in some areas, a control freak who will not let go of things and let someone else do them their way on their timetable. It isn't even that there's a right and wrong way, it's just that when something is important to me, I feel like it's on me to do it. Like, lets say I want help with cleaning the bathrooms. They need to be cleaned weekly (at least, because men and boys are GROSS), and I express that to whoever has said they will help, but then, if that person doesn't actually do it and waits a month to get around to it, well, that's going to cause me some anxiety and I'm going to have to do it myself because I have to live here and use those bathrooms too and letting them get disgusting is not ok! It's not that I care HOW they are cleaned, like what method or cleaner is used, just that it gets done at some point during the week, but if I have to project manage it getting done - fuck that. I'll do it myself. See what I mean? And this isn't even a real example, insert any household chore and it's the same thing. It's not that important to someone else, so it's low on their priority list and it gets done when it occurs to them to get it done, which is never, because they don't think like me and housecleaning doesn't occupy a large space inside their brain. Oh, but you know what does? The lawn. The lawn is tended to and loved and paid attention to more than anything else in this house. Who knew I married THAT GUY.

Ok, I'm done complaining. I'm done listening to myself be very Woe Is Me about things lately. I don't know why I can't seem to keep my emotional shit together. I spent a couple of days recently in a very dark place, although on the outside, no one would know but inside my head I was fighting demons. I'm not sure where all this darkness is coming from, but I know I should be talking about it. I read somewhere once that the best disinfectant is sunlight. I love that. Nothing gets healed by staying in the dark. I need to start shining a light on some of this stuff.

i get so emotional baby

I have been having some serious mood swings as of late. Like, some days it gives me whiplash. A few week ago, I woke up for days in a row PISSED OFF. That was the mood I brought into my day first thing. Mad. Mad. Mad. And because I live with someone, he gets to be the target of my anger. Back in my single days, I would turn that anger inward like a good little Christian girl. Even though the husband was a target of my anger, I still held it in and just had the tiny hate-speeches inside my head, I never said the words outloud but it doesn't matter, because I knew it was there and I'm sure I was pleasant to live with because try as I might to keep that shit inside, I'm sure my energy and aura or whatever you want to call it made it pretty clear that I had hate thoughts running in a loop inside my head. I'm sure if I said those things out loud we could  have an epic fight and I could end up feeling like shit for being such a nagging shrew. And I'm sure some of my complaints are valid, but when you pile them up on the inside and let them fester the end result is rarely rational or productive. When I come out the other side and I'm waking up in a nice mood and things are fine and lovely I wonder why I let myself get so mad about such petty little things. Maybe it's hormones, like my raging PMS that used to plague me is back in full force. Sometimes I feel myself backtracking, letting whatever emotional wellness I had slip away and an older version of myself resurface. I used to think I killed that bitch, but I should have known better. She ain't dead, she's still there and some days I am better at dismissing her shrill screaming than others.

Recently my husband said I've been sad a lot lately. That I worry too much about things. I don't think I've been sad - I've always been quick to tears and I have a Ph.D. in Worrying About Shit I Can't Control -  so these aren't new things about me, but maybe it is just the first time he's let himself (or I've let him) see it. I don't know. But his words have stuck with me and I wonder what it is that makes me seem sad to him. I resolved myself, after he made this observation, to put on a happy face even when I didn't feel happy. Maybe that seems fake, but after fifty jillion 12 step meetings in my life, the motto: Fake It Until You Make It seems like a reasonable thing to do. And you know, I really am happy, when I scrape away the stress and exhaustion that comes with being a working mother, I am happy. We have a nice little life here, I just can't always see it through the grind of the every day. I'm fairly sure this is not unique to me.  

unearthed

The process of moving always unearths interesting things. Like check stubs that date back to 1996. Why am I keeping those again? How about the bank statements from 1994? I think it's safe to shred those things now. I finally threw out the small purse sized calendar from 1991. I'd been holding on to that, intentionally. Because it was from the year I checked myself into a psychiatric hospital after a suicide attempt. The things written in there always remind me of where I was and who I was. I don't really know why I couldn't part with it. It never occurs to me to look at it unless I'm packing for a move. Then I sit down at my desk, pull open the drawer with the random selection of things I can't part with, and try to purge them out. Try to let them go. And I have. Little by little. Today I threw that calendar away. I didn't even open it. I think if I had started reading it and thumbing through the months and looking at the days I spent in that psychiatric hospital I would never throw it away. It's been over 20 years - it's time to let it go I think. I have other things from that time. I'm looking at one of them right now. It's a journal entry of sorts. Something I wrote on a random piece of paper when I couldn't find anywhere else to write and I needed to write. Badly. The things I wrote on June 16, 1991 - two months before I would try to kill myself - read like a really bad soap opera. It's all very woe is me. I try not to be too mean to the girl who wrote that shit, I try to remember that in that moment, the pain was very real. So real that just a couple of months later, that girl would put a gun in her mouth, stand at the mirror, look herself in the eyes and dare herself to pull the trigger. I did that for days. And then, in a moment of what I thought was absolute weakness, I called my therapist. But I didn't get to talk to my therapist, he was out of town. So I got the on-call doctor who did not know me or my issues. All she knew was that a 19 year old girl was standing in her bedroom with a loaded gun. I didn't really voluntarily check myself in to the hospital. Sure I drove myself there but it was only after that fill in therapist lady told me that she was compelled to contact the police if I didn't agree to get myself to a hospital. I'm not even sure if that's true, is it? I guess maybe. If it was a trick, it worked. I didn't want the police to come take me away. So I drove to that hospital and checked myself in. It would be a blip on my radar history if that was the first and last time I would try to kill myself, but it wasn't. Not by a long shot. But it set me on a path, it opened doors to places I wouldn't have known were there. So while the psych hospital didn't actually fix anything, it at least set me on a course that eventually led to wellness. And honestly, I don't even know if I'm really well, I'm just better than I was. And that's really all I can ask. I don't entertain thoughts of suicide. But I have other issues. Other things that I keep to myself because I know they are crazy. Sometimes when the hormonal imbalance created by my lady parts is particularly bad, the dark thoughts return and I wonder what would happen if I threw myself down the stairs. Or hit myself with a blunt object. So yeah, I'm not well by any stretch, but I am better.

Untitled because I can't think of one

This morning I woke up with what appear to be bug bite marks all over my back. I have no idea what little creature bit me while I was sleeping, but it is astounding to me that it didn't wake me up. It's either bug bites, a rash or hives. My husband says bug bites. So I'm going with that. But seriously, WTF?

Therapy again this week. It was fine. I'd forgotten how painful therapy can actually be. But it's necessary. I know that. I must get out of this black pit of despair because it sucks ass. Actually, I wouldn't even call it despair, that implies some sort of intense feeling, when in reality, what is happening is that I feel nothing. I feel like I'm on the outside of everything. I don't feel like I'm connected to anything or anyone. Except the baby. I still feel wildly connected to that child. But everything else in my life tastes vanilla. When the therapist asked me how I felt I said: "eh, fine". I don't want to just feel fine. I want to feel happy. Peaceful. Content. And I just feel nothing. Like I've shut off something inside myself. It's quite awful to be honest. There are things I'm challenged with doing over the next month, before my next appointment. Things that require the help of my husband, and for some reason, asking for help with things that I see as "my job" is really difficult. It feels like I'm a failure somehow. And that feeling leads to horrible thoughts about being left because I am not perfect and I can't do everything. And those thoughts create so much anxiety and fear in me. The whole abandonment bullshit. The over played, over used, fear of abandonment, but regardless of how over played and over used that is, it is so true for me right now. Something about having a child has resulted in this gigantic fear that my husband will leave. My fear that my husband will leave makes me act insane, so then I think the fact that I'm acting insane will drive him away. It's this stupid, stupid thought process that just takes off on its own and I have a hard time keeping it from going completely off the flipping rails. How do other women do this? What do other women who have a child and find themselves plunged into depression, how do they get out? How do they find themselves again, because I feel like I'm disappearing, that I'm losing myself. That nothing brings me joy (except my kid) anymore. I rarely write, I haven't read a book since I was on maternity leave, I only occasionally go to the gym and that's a recent development, for my mental health. But honestly, how do other women find the time and energy to take care of themselves? I know it's so common for mothers to put themselves last, and I actually thought it was kind of a cop out, but now I understand it. At the end of the day, after working and taking care of the baby and household chores, I just don't have the time or energy to do much except maybe play on my iPhone (Words With Friends is ADDICTING!) and watch TV. Sometimes it feels like my husband and I just simply pass each other in the halls. And that just adds to the fear that he's going to leave because I am spread thin and try to give him as much attention as possible but it feels like not enough. It feel like I am not enough. That I do not have enough time, energy or even enough of me to fill anything up. Everything I have to give is spread out over all of these other things, outside of me, and there is nothing left for me. And barely anything left for my husband. I didn't know it would feel this way. I didn't know that having a child would be so overwhelming, sometimes in the best way - overwhelming love and care and joy - and other times, overwhelming fear and doubt and OHMYGOD I'm responsible for the emotional, spiritual, and physical well being of another person. It is daunting. And it is forever. I would not change having a baby, not for one second, but I do wish I could find balance.

the little baby toe is more important than you think

I whacked my little toe yesterday. Twice. It's totally broken. All purple and black. Yesterday it hurt like a bitch, and today it still hurts, but it's more annoying than anything else. I feel irrational rage directed at the chair in our living room, because, of course, it's all the chairs fault. The first time I whacked it, my husband was in the shower and he thought the noise he heard was me playing with the baby. No. That was me crying. The second time  he was in the kitchen and heard the thwack! followed by my crying. I have such a nice husband. He did not start laughing at me until I started laughing at me. Seriously, TWICE in the same day. Same toe. Same chair. I hate that fucking chair now. I want to set it on fire. But I did laugh at the absurdity of it all. Happy Memorial Day to me. Good thing we didn't have anything planned that involves walking because I'm a gimp.

The last few weeks have been emotionally challenging. I think I've got some postpartum depression going on. There were a few days in there that I simply could not pull myself out of the black hole. I cried and cried and cried. I was moments away from calling my therapist. I still might. I am better, mostly. I still have an undercurrent of sadness that I'm not entirely sure about. But for now, I'm in a holding pattern. We'll see what the next few weeks bring.

Next week the Wee One will start in daycare. We found one that doesn't make me completely want to have a meltdown. They have web cams and an app for your iPhone so you can watch live streaming video whenever you want. I swear, I'm not going to get any work done those first few days. I feel sick and nervous about it, and then I'll remind myself of all the positives: he'll have more babies to play with, new toys to explore and new people to fawn all over him because he's so damn cute and charming. I am trying not to borrow worry from the future about things that haven't happened. I'm going to try and just trust the process and trust that we've made a good choice. I really wish I could quit my job and just stay home but not now. Maybe at some point in the future, but I must just wait. Patience is so not my thing. Which is why the Universe keeps sending things my way that require it. The only way to master something is to practice, practice, practice.

internal dialogue

My internal dialogue is going to be the death of me. I am arguing with myself, telling myself that I WILL NOT cry, and then telling myself it's ok to cry, and then telling myself to STFU already. Seriously. It is like an insane asylum up in there. I do not know what to do. I am so sad, and I am so tired of saying that  - seriously - enough! I feel like if I could just change what is going on inside my head, find the cheerleader or the pep rally or even just a mildly encouraging voice of reason, that I would find some relief from the sadness. I think I've had this date in my head for so long, dreading it, wishing it wouldn't come, and now that it's here, I just want it to hurry up and be over. Because I think once this day is finished I will exhale and say "that wasn't so bad" but I want to hurry up and get to that part, because this part sucks.

Depression

I think maybe I'm depressed. I can't be entirely sure because this depression doesn't look like other bouts I've had in the past, but there's a little voice inside telling me to be careful here. To be on the look out. I wake up with a pit of anxiety, actually, I don't wake up that way, it comes on after I've been up for a couple of hours, usually after my husband has left for work. I start to feel... sad? Lonely? Afraid? I'm not really sure. I just know that something feels a little off. It's probably the impending return to work date that is looming out there in front of me, getting closer and closer every day. I'm not looking forward to going back to work. Maybe that's really all that is wrong. Or maybe all my hormones are still adjusting, I have yet to have a period, so I'm just waiting for that. Maybe it's PMS? Maybe I should take a Midol? It just feels so different, I'm not lethargic, I am not weeping, I don't feel like there is a black cloud surrounding me. But there is something off and the only thing I can do is pay attention to the little voice inside telling me to be careful, even if I'm not entirely sure what that means. I'm on alert.

emotional balance

Maybe I need to go back therapy. Or maybe it's just pregnancy hormones. I really don't know. I had such an over reaction yesterday to something I am not even going to detail because it is so ridiculous that I can't even bring myself to write it down, but I cried off and on all day yesterday. It was like once I started, I couldn't turn off the waterworks. Even today it still lingers. I could cry right now if I let myself. In fact, this screen is blurry because I thought about crying and it's like my eyes just responded and watered. I am tired today. So. Very. Tired. If I blink too long I will fall asleep at my desk. Maybe the tiredness is making me want to cry. Or maybe it's just leftover from yesterday. I have no idea. I just know that my eyes feel like they have sand in them and I want to take a nap and I do not want to have to make any decisions about anything at all because if I do that process will probably make me cry and I am tired of crying. No really, I am. Even though I am about to cry right now. I swear. I'm tired of it. I really hope it's pregnancy hormones getting the best of me. I hope that soon I'll get my emotional balance back because I really hate feeling this way.