First you slip, then you fall. But sometimes, love and family catch you before you do either.
February 7, 2010
Here it is Sunday night and all I can think is “Oh, please, do not let this weekend end! I am not ready for Monday!“ I had a great weekend with my family and got a much needed mental break. Last week was hellacious. Horrible. One of the worst I have had in years. I do not want to get into details because suffice it to say that 1) I do not want to relive it and 2) I really don’t want to relive it.
Wednesday was just bad. For reasons I cannot get into (I am just not comfortable sharing since things here have been used against me in my real life), I was thrown into a really bad place. What amazed me was that a very dear friend of mine hundreds of miles away could tell- with only a few words- how bad off I was. In fact, she talked to me until I was doing better. She sent me phone numbers I needed and links to make sure I had some local backup. After seeing that I was doing better but needed to talk to someone in recovery, she reminded me of a mutual friend of ours that would be there for me in a heartbeat if I called him. I sent out an SOS message to him and we were almost immediately on the phone. The timing was not good and I knew he had things to do but he stayed on the phone with me for over an hour just getting me back on track and reminding me of who I am, where I’ve been and how hard I’ve worked. Together they helped get me out of my own head and back to a peaceful place. Two friends in two different states who care enough to come to the aid of a friend.
I have to state the obvious here but I really, really do hate addiction. Here I am with almost 10 years of hard work and recovery and yet there are times when I am just as vulnerable- sometimes I think even more vulnerable- than I was just 10 months or even 1o days clean.
I woke up feeling better and happier on Thursday. I had a good day despite a very difficult morning of struggles and that afternoon was so grateful that Gabby and I were able to spend a couple of hours catching up with good friends. That night it was all throw to hell and everything came tumbling down on my head.
I lost it in a way I have not lost it in years. It was the first time in many, many years that a situation came along that filled me with such despair, pain and desperation that I feared for myself. In my head at that time, I no longer cared about anything but not hurting. I didn’t care about the 10 years of hard work. I didn’t care about anything I have accomplished in the past decade. I didn’t care what it would do to me, my kids or anyone else around me. All I wanted was to not hurt like I was hurting. I wanted to drown myself in the momentary release that being high gave me. All I wanted was to escape. To get away from the life of hell that was baring down on me and about to swallow me whole.
Escape.
Escape.
For the love of all things peaceful, I had to get away from the pain!
I had to let someone know I was going to slip fall hard.
But I didn’t want to say it because right then, right there, I wanted to fall. I wanted to give in. Ten years of saying no when I hurt. Ten years of “talking through it” and “finding alternatives” when I felt horrible. Ten years of staying strong when I really did not want to be. None of that mattered. I was willing to throw it and myself back to hell.
A friend of mine who knew only a third of my story and half of the pain I was in came over and wanted to make sure I cleared out any medications or alcohol in my house. If she knew only half and knew to just come over and get things out of my house, can you imagine how bad I actually was?
Again, there were phone calls- this time it was Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200, Go Directly to AA.
I talked to people in recovery who got me back on track. I talked to people who really knew me and spilled it out. I talked to friends late into the night. I cuddled up with my kids who saw me almost lose it for the first time ever in their lifetime and let them know I was okay. Cuddled the fear out of them.
I snuggled up with my husband and told him everything. I felt him tense. I knew a part of him wanted to bite his tongue and resist the urge to give me advice. He just listened as I worked through it. I know how hard it is on him when I hurt and feel so hopeless. I know it breaks a part of him every time I feel broken. I know it makes him feel helpless when I let life beat me down and head into a tailspin. But he always stands by me and loves me. He listened. He let me pour it all out. He didn’t judge (me) and didn’t blame (me) but listened, loved and waited for me to work through it knowing he was standing there as my safety net.
Friday, I woke up feeling like I had gone 10 rounds with a heavy weight fighter. I guess in a way I did. I fought my demon.
And I won.
It took a while on Friday to work through things but again, it took talking on the phone with people who really do know me and being with people this weekend who really do accept me for who I am that made me realize that things have to change. For me. For my family. For my sanity and sobriety. Things have to change. And I have hard work ahead of me but I am not alone. I just know things have to change.
In a huge way.
And I have started to take steps to go back to being me and not anyone else’s version of me.
I was touched by the outpouring of love I received when I mentioned it was the anniversary of the day my Mom died. People both close to me and casual acquaintances left me words of encouragement through emails, Facebook or phone calls. I, of course, chose to hibernate the day away. I did not want to pretend to be happy or act as if nothing was wrong. It is just easier to do that when you only have your dog and your son at home with you. One doesn’t ask questions and the other already knows the reason for sudden tears.
More than one person asked me to share a favorite memory of Mom to help me think of the good times and make me smile. I love that idea. But to choose one favorite memory would be impossible. I suppose I would have to chose one thing I am most thankful for when it comes to something Mom ensured that my brother, my sister and I all had the ability to do without effort or falseness: The ability to laugh no matter what is going on around us.
You want the humor? We can bring the humor. Sometimes it happens to be at inappropriate times, inappropriate places or under inappropriate circumstances, though. Mom used to call those the “church giggles.”
Here is your lesson in “church giggles.”
Something strikes you as amusing (real or just a passing thought) at a time when you should not be laughing and the next thing you know, you start to giggle. The more you try to stop, the harder it is and the more you’re giggling. Before you know it tears are streaming down your face as your shoulders are shaking and people around you are wondering if you have lost your mind or are having some sort of fit. The “church giggles” can strike at any time in any places. Just know that it will be a time or place when laughter is usually not “the thing to do” at that time. Funerals are a classic place to get the “church giggles.” Or? When someone is giving a speech (not a funny one either) and you begin to feel the need to giggle and cannot stop it, you should brace yourself for the full on giggles. Don’t bother to apologize while in this state. That only makes the laughter worse and harder to stop.
It has happened to me at, yes, funerals as well as PTA meetings, meetings with school administrators, speeches (both by strangers and friends alike), as well as just every day, average situations that do not call for laughter.
The best example of the “church giggles” was during Mary Tyler Moore on the Episode “Chuckles Bites the Dust.” Here is a part of the show. The giggles start around the 3 minute mark. The clip is long but the roller coaster emotions sure do fit me to a tee on this day. That whole show with its inappropriate jokes and laughter mirror my life. Well, except knowing anyone who was “shelled by an elephant” thing.
But it isn’t just laughing at inappropriate times. It is laughing at whatever life throws at you. I have laughed sitting beside more hospital beds than I can count. I can find humor in the situation. I have laughed when it seems as if there is nothing funny. Trust me, something is funny and can be found. You need someone to help you find the funny, come sit by me. We’ll laugh.
Never was it more evident than when my brother, my sister and I were all together in December. We laughed at everything. We laughed at each other. We laughed at ourselves. We laughed at our family. We laughed at strangers. We probably even laughed at you! The point is this. Mom gave each one of us something special that is unique to each of us but she gave all of us something that we can share with each other and with those around us: The ability to laugh in life’s face. And, oh boy, do we laugh!
That’s what I remember (and carry with me) most when it comes to Mom.
It’s time to find what was lost and build what was broken.
January 1, 2010
I knew it was happening. I could feel it. I could see it. Sometimes you know. Yet, even knowing doesn’t mean you can do anything about it. Maybe it started when Mom died. Maybe it started before then. I don’t know. But it really came to fruition in 2009. I lost myself. I lost who I was. I lost the core of what made me a happy, healthy person. I really don’t think it is important to know when or why or even how. What matters is that I finally reached yet another rock bottom where I have to make changes. And? I am going to make this the year that I do it. Why this year? No reason except…I absolutely have to do it. For me. For my kids. For my husband. For my friends. But honestly, it is really for me.
I guess you could say I lost my way in a few areas: Blogging, personally, writing. They all intertwine so when one goes south, it can carry the rest with them.
I will start with the most obvious one to those of you who are reading this.
Blogging
Wow. The face of blogging has changed so dramatically I couldn’t even find the words for it if I tried. (And I have tried.) You see, way back in the stone ages (like 1990), I helped my husband with a BBS. That was what I knew of the Interwebs. I loved it. I could sit in the comfort of my house and actually talk to people that were in their house. Amazing. We had games, forums and chats. I loved it! By 1993, I was learning more about what was out there and saw that it was more than just for tech geeks. In 1995/96, I learned the wonder of online journals. (Thank you Al Gore for inventing the amazing Internet!) I had a sleepless baby which led to many nights of feedings and surfing. It was then that I branched away from what my husband was doing and started my own online journal. After time, it morphed into a website with real live links to other websites. I was connected, baby! I kept my website and journal going in one form or another for years.
It was in 2003 that I started what you find here: Mommy Needs Coffee. From Blogger to my own url, I had found my very own space on the Internet. I loved it! I wrote stories about my kids, my life, my observations on both and people came. They actually showed up and read what I had to write. Which of course led me to their blogs where I read what they had to say and commented. It was a small but fun community. A blogger get together meant you all showed up to chat and “hang out” online. You knew that other bloggers had your back when it came to haters. It was fun. I knew where I fit in to the small part of the big picture.
I blogged on while others quit.
I blogged on when there was a huge controversy over whether or not to accept ads.
I blogged on when the term “mommyblogger” was synonymous with fluff and narcissism. I still knew who I was and where I belonged.
I blogged on through the “review or not review” controversy. I blogged because to me it was gratifying and gave me a wonderful outlet for my writing, my thoughts and my silliness. Through my blogging I found friends, jobs and an agent. I also lost friends. Sometimes the written word can do more damage than good. But through it all, I knew who I was and where I belonged. Though the landscape had changed, the core was the same. Many of us who were blogging for a long time felt the growing pains but blogged on.
And then came the Big Change. I don’t really know when the big change actually occurred or what caused the massive shift in blogging, but it shook the core of blogging to the roots. Are you a review blogger or a writing blogger? Are you both? Can you be both? Do you have content that is yours or paid for content? Can I trust you or are you being paid to say what you say? Where are the stories? Where is the writing that drew me into this amazing blogging world?
More than once I tried to express myself but it was shouting into the wind. The noise level was too high. The chatter was too loud. Old voices were drowned out. At least I felt mine was. I no longer knew where my place in the blogging world was. I was a mom. I blogged. I helped bring respect to the term “mommyblogger” with both my writing and the mommybloggers.com site. Yet, I could not identify with what was not being called “mommyblogger” in the crazy changes taking place. It was all about reviews and blogger junkets and what trips you were invited on and what speaking engagements or sponsorships you could garner. It was insanity.
At least it was from the point of view from someone who had been at this for so long. Yes, I was invited on some blogger junkets. I did go when it worked for my family. When it did not, I would have to pass and offer up a name or two of someone who would be able to go and enjoy it. Yes, I did reviews for products I could use and enjoy. And, yes, I did enjoy that, too. I am not against any of that. It was just that somewhere in there the writing, the stories, the real life of the bloggers became over-shadowed. I missed reading stories.
Let’s not even get into the pressure to measure up.
“Were you invited to ______ junket?”
“Did you get an invite to go to Disney?”
“Were you asked to be on this panel of experts?”
“Did you get a free ______?”
What?
Had it become a competition? What are the rules? Where is the master list of A-Listers who go on these things? Do I need to pursue these PR reps or just hope they find me? What about my SEO? Where do I rank? Why isn’t that company talking to me? Push! Push! Push! Get out there so everyone knows your blog! Get known so you can go on trips! Become an expert in mommyblogging so every PR firm in the country wants you!
What?
I was lost. All I wanted to do was write and enjoy the writing of others. Yes, of course the trips, the games, the products, the gaming systems and other things I was honored to review are an awesome perk IN ADDITION TO the writing. But where did an old school blogger who just wanted to write and enjoy it fit in? SEO meant nothing to me. Getting aggressive and going after sponsorships for conferences was foreign to me. Telling a PR rep that I should go on his/her junket felt rude to me. Suddenly, I just didn’t fit in to the very genre that I help give a good name to when it was once just mud. Now what?
I stopped blogging. I couldn’t find my voice. Do I write for the readers, the PR reps, the possible job offers? Could I just write my blog the way I have always written my blog and not get lost in all of the noise and chaos that was around me? I have seen good friends of mine who have been at this blogging gig as long as I have succeed. They write a good blog and get invited to junkets and do reviews. They found their place. Why couldn’t I find mine?
So I stopped blogging.
Then, for reasons I will never know but am more thankful for than I could put into words, I was contacted for a blogger opportunity in DC. I had not blogged in ages. In fact, I almost turned it down. Thankfully, my good friend Dave would not give up on me and just flat out booked my ticket for me. He may never know what that meant to me. Forced into a situation where I wanted to go and felt that I should go, I actually embraced this blogger junket with excitement (and a bit of trepidation). I was not on anyone’s A-list anymore. I was no longer a blogger with a name. I was just a blogger who may or may not update that very few people really knew about or read. But somewhere deep inside I knew that I absolutely had to go on this trip. I had to go.
It was on this trip to DC that I met with the president of A Partnership for a Drug Free America, lobbyists on Capitol Hill, Senators, Congressman, the Five Moms (whom I have met and worked with for a few years already) and, yes, Dr. Drew Pinsky.
That one trip changed everything. Everything. How is it that one person (though so very qualified in his field and so very used to dealing with addicts and the bullshit and baggage they throw down) could meet me, have a few conversations with me and then say to me the very things I HAD to hear? Not things I wanted to hear or would benefit from hearing, but the very things I HAD to hear to move forward. That one trip– and it came through my blog– was life changing.
And? It made me question the things I do and why I do them. Including blogging. (And writing.) I can’t share what he said to me. Not yet. But trust me when I say that after almost 10 years in recovery, no one has ever nailed down my issues as fast, as accurately and as matter-of-fact as Dr. Drew did. He really hit a spot that not only no one else has hit, no one else has even seemed to see it.
It made a difference. A huge difference.
It made me stop and think.
Where do I fit in?
Do I want to fit in?
Is there a place for someone so old school as myself?
Can I still do this and be true to myself and what I want out of a blog?
Do I blog for me or for the new faces in the crowd that may be watching/reading/taking note?
The answer took a long time in coming. (Which is one of the reasons I have been so quiet here.)
I blog for me.
For me.
Me.
If someone thinks it is good and wants to comment, I love that! If a PR rep thinks I am a good fit for their product or junket, we will talk. If someone out there likes what I have to say well enough to add me to some random list of “Top Bloggers”, then that is up to them.
For now, this blog, this writing, these stories are for me.
If you enjoy them, that makes my heart so happy. If you don’t, there are so many blogs out there I am sure you will find one you enjoy. However, for now, I shall make this blog what it once was: My outlet. My place to share stories and observations on life, love and motherhood. I hope you stick around but if you don’t, I understand. Old school blogging and story telling isn’t for everyone.
The one where I realize how important it is to breathe
September 16, 2009
Today I had one of those fun filled days where I got to spend it in the hospital. Let me just tell you one thing about me. Unless I am giving birth (and I am so NOT doing that ever again), I do not want to be in a hospital. Ever. They are scary, germy and people have needles (and use them)! For real. They actually find it acceptable to take your blood, poke a needle right into your butt and inject you with (a painful) medicine that will make you feel like a freak on speed AND then they come back and take more blood with a needle sucking it straight from your arm. I don’t know about you, but I am pretty sure that kind of behavior would be totally and absolutely illegal on the street! Yet, every day people in scrubs or white coats get away with this kind of activity with no guilt or consequences and we allow this to happen. We let them into our room and we are all like, “Hi there, oh bearer of the needle! Would you like to puncture me and also drain me of my blood? Be my guest. And? I will totally pay you to do it!”
I allowed it to happen today!
So, apparently I have learned that:
Passing out is not normal and should be avoided at all costs.
You really should not take the act of breathing for granted. It is a rather important function even if you don’t think about it. When you feel as if you are breathing through a Capri-Sun straw, it is rough and…well…sucks. (Pun intended.)
You should not wait until you can barely function before seeing a doctor if these things happen.
Finally, you should not scare your Facebook friends by saying you are in the hospital, posting a photo just saying you want to go home and want your husband without any more of an explanation than that. It will worry them and then you will feel like an ass for worrying them just because you are a big ol’ scaredy cat baby head. *Note: I totally am a big baby when it comes to doctors who don’t know what is wrong with me and I am all alone in the hospital. Big. Huge. Cry. Baby.
I am SO not a fan of hospitals. See how pathetic I look?
I was finally sent home and told to go to bed and stay there. For a few days. (Pending blood work results.) Stay in bed. For a few days. hahahahahahaha Are these people high on their own medication? The ability of a mom of 3 to stay in bed for days is about the same as reversing the tides and having the sun rise in the west. Now, don’t get me wrong. I will try to follow doctor’s orders as best I can. (Meaning, when the family is away, I will sleep/rest.) And? I know better than to try to go up to the school. I have been threatened asked nicely by my friends to stay the hell away take my time to recuperate.
I will know more tomorrow from all of the eleventy hundred vials of blood they took from me today. They are thinking my lungs sound not quite wet enough for pneumonia and are leaning towards thinking I have whooping cough. Now, really! This is 2009. Who the hell gets whooping cough at age 39 in the year 2009? That is just ludicrous. All I know is I am coughing violently enough and often enough to literally burst vessels in my face and eyes. (Nasty, right? I know!) I may or may not have coughed up my spleen earlier. The dog ate it before I could check. (I’m kidding. Relax. I don’t let him eat spleen.) I have a fever. My chest and back hurt. And can I just tell you how tired I am. EXCEPT the sheer bliss that are the breathing treatments have me wired like a cocaine addict.
And in all that? I feel blessed. WTH you say, Jenn? No, really. I have great friends who have checked on me that are local, out of the city, out of the state and even out of the country. That (of course) brought me to tears. (Because everything brings me to tears when I am sick. But really, it touched me.) And even old friends I haven’t seen in years checked up to make sure I was okay. That kind of shocked me. I was just whining because I was scared and suddenly people are showing real concern. Thank you. I would hug you but I hear I am contagious so you probably don’t want that.
I will update you later. For now, thank you to my friends– old, new and renewed– for your show of support. Now, since we are in such a nice loving state of mind, can I please borrow one of your lungs. I will give it back. Well, I really won’t but I will be thankful to breath and will tattoo your name on my….bicep. Just one lung? Maybe?
Okay. I am off to bed to lay there and flail around like a fish flopped out of water onto a dock gasping for air but shaking like a freak. (That is called imagery boys and girls. And some people call it medically induced writing.)
Last week I was feeling very out of sorts. I was doing that whole (pointless) survey of my life so far that always gets me grouchy. Don’t get me wrong. I do love my life. I have a wonderful husband and three amazing kids. I am able to stay home and have a job that I love. I mean, really, what is there to be out of sorts about?
I suppose it had more to do with the “Who Am I?” question rather than “Am I Happy?” question. Because I am happy. Sometimes I just get bogged down in my titles and not my personality. I became a wife at 20, a mom at 23, and a responsible (HA!) adult sometime in the past couple of years. Sometimes when I look at myself in the mirror I wonder who that middle aged woman is who is looking back at me. Mid-life crisis? Nah. Just an overall wondering if I have let who I need to be, who I should be and who I am expected to be push aside who I really feel I am inside. Does anyone recognize who I am inside? Am I still that person?
Then out of the blue like a cool glass of water for a parched soul, I got a phone call from one of my oldest and dearest friends. A friend I have not spoken to in years. As in well over a decade. He and I were inseparable in high school. We were like a comedy duo. Not only did we thoroughly entertain each other, we kept others in stitches. Oh, how we laughed together! But even more than that, we could tell each other anything. And we did. He knew me. I mean, he really knew me and everything about me. It was just the kind of friendship where I couldn’t hide who I was even if I tried. It was through our friendship I learned how to laugh through the tears, how to laugh at the ridiculous things in life and simply how to enjoy life and laugh my way through whatever comes my way.
We went to separate colleges. I got married. He moved. We lost touch. For years I looked for him. But? Sometimes you just need to fall off the grid to find yourself. I understand that. But now, we found each other again. And oh the laughter! We talked on the phone for well over an hour catching up on everything under the sun. Laughing at everything under the sun. Sharing the pains we went through over the years as well as the celebrations. It was like going back in time. Even after all these years, he saw me. He saw ME.
And I cannot even tell how much it meant to me and how much it soothed my soul. He said things to me that I needed to hear. I needed to hear them from him, to be precise. At one point after dishing and laughing and just sharing life, he got quiet for a minute and said, “Darling, you haven’t changed one bit!”
I blew him off and told him how much I had changed. How I had so many titles and so many hats that I barely recognized myself some days.
He laughed and said it again. “You haven’t changed one bit.”
I argued a bit more and tried to give him evidence of ways that I was not that fun loving, laughing, silly, optimistic and free spirit girl he used to know.
After a sigh (that really spoke volumes if you know him), he told me that after talking to him for just an hour and letting my guard down he could tell that I had obviously grown up in age and taken on adult responsibilities but underneath it all, I was still the same girl he knew and loved “back in the day” even if I couldn’t see it.
Even if I could not see it.
Sometimes maybe it takes someone from your past to see it. Someone who knew you before life piled itself on you. Someone who was there as you were becoming who you are today. Maybe it takes someone like that to hold a mirror up to your soul to show you that you are indeed still the person you have been missing.
I haven’t lost me. I guess I just sometimes forget to let “ME” out often enough to remember how much fun life is and how much I really do enjoy life, laughter and just being myself.
Boy am I glad I didn’t screen that call. I would have missed an hour of laughs and a reminder of me.
Thank you, Harvey, my old friend. You always knew how to make me keep it real.
I have been waiting excitedly to tell you about the latest opportunity this amazing blog has brought to me. I had to take care of a few administrative things before I could say anything but now, rather than bursting, I am going to share with you my secret. I’ve been selected as one of only five mom bloggers in the DFW metroplex to take part in the “Mommy Madness” campaign for CBS Radio and North Texas Chevy Dealers. What does this mean? Well, in short, it means that I get to test drive (meaning live out of) a brand spankin’ new Chevy Travers for the next 8 weeks. They are calling us the Mom Squad. We have missions to do and errands to run but they are all fun for not only us, but for the entire family!
On Friday (during a downpour that made my liver quiver) I drove to the CBS studios to meet some of the CBS Radio DJ’s and pick up my Traverse. Let me tell you something about the two fabulous DJ’s I had the opportunity to tormentharass get to know: They were hilarious and fun! I am talking about Gene and Julie from the KVIL morning show. Things I did not know before I chose to sit between them:
Gene actually would choose to eat baby food bananas if asked to. (He admitted it and it is on tape somewhere.)
You can totally be a smart alec with people who do it for a living and they aren’t afraid of your “out there” personality!
Calling yourself “the supreme being of all around me” will only get you the response, “Sorry, that is my title but if you need to borrow it you can.”
These two people are perfect together and I now have a duel DJ crush.
I also was able to meet with the North Texas Chevy Dealers, more CBS radio personalities from Jack FM, KLUVand KVIL, all the marketing people you can fit into one conference room and the other 4 Moms who are a part of the “Mom Squad.”
After the meet and greet and tell us what you would eat (if you were to eat baby food), we were paired up with our very own dealer from our very own dealership. I was honored to be paired up with Jerry’s of Weatherford. Poor David was the man selected to show me all of the amazing features of the Traverse. I say poor David because we spent half the time going over the features and half the time laughing so hard people thought we had lost our mind. For example, while he was showing me the features of the back seat DVD player he looked up and noticed me hugging the seat and fondly caressing the car. To say the least it threw him off track. Pretty much all of the features he showed me had similar responses from me. He was absolutely hysterical as I responded to each amazing part of the Traverse with glee, giddiness and a bit of lust. What a great sport!
And now, where you can help me.
The wonderful people behind this program want you to vote for you favorite DFW Mom Squad member. (This would be ME to you, my wonderful readers!) Just go to the Mommy Madness site and vote. (Again, for me.) It isn’t hard. It doesn’t hurt. AND when you vote you have the chance to win a spa trip to Lost Pines Resort & Spa in beautiful Austin! You know you want a piece of that!
AND if you are in the DFW area and go to any North Texas Chevy Dealers and test drive a Traverse, you can get a ONE HOUR massage at Massage Envy. Show me one person who doesn’t need that one!
I will be uploading pictures of my new foster baby Traverse later. For now, go vote. It is your patriotic duty, people.
This post brought to you by Citizens Against Becoming Human, Radioactive Pin Cushions
July 15, 2008
Why was I so thrilled to leave town and hit the beach for a week (plus travel days)?
Why was I happy to be out of town for 3 weeks?
Why am I looking forward to leaving town again?
Well, for one– the obvious of they are so fun! (Beach relaxing. Blogher manic fun. Both vacations in their own rights.) But another reason? I am glad for the break in doctor’s appointments and being a human pin cushion who is probably radio active by now. Here is the low down that I have not shared. Because, well, when you know nothing you share nothing. Usually. Many times I share a lot and know nothing. But that is pretty much blogging for you.
It started with migraines. Or wait. Maybe it started with the hair loss, extreme bone numbing fatigue and weight gain that put me in a league with the Violet from Willie Wonka. (Egg or chicken at this point.) So off to the doctor we go.
First up, blood work. It appears that my thyroid hates me. We are working on making nice with it but really? When it went all bad ass and decided to go after my weight and make me fat, it was ON. I am not playing nice with that thyroid now. I told the doctor to just rip it out. He thought that was rather extreme. I owe a lot to Y of Joy Unexpected for getting me to actually get to the doctor and check things out rather than just play the “I am just tired, fat and going bald” card. Thanks, Y! I owe you.
Then came the radio active dye that I got to inject into my veins for an MRI. They wanted to see if they could find a reason for the migraines. Good news! They found no tumors, lesions or blood clots in my brain. Which is what they were worried about with my history and my Mom’s history. AND now there is proof I do in fact have a brain. w00t!
What they did find is a 6mm tumor “or suspicious growth” in my sinuses.
Say what?
Did that report I read say t-u-m-o-r?
So when my doctor called and told me to get into the ENT to check it out, I told him I would as soon as I could get there but really? Totally had plans. (That will stun a doctor into silence.)
Me: Will it grown?
Dr: No.
Me: Will it hurt me?
Dr: No.
Me: Will it kill me by the end of July?
Dr: No.
Me: Should I be running around freaking and wailing in fear and agony?
Dr: No.
Me: So it can wait until the end of July.
Dr: Uhhhh….I am guessing yes is the only right answer.
Me: You are a smart Doc. Good answer.
I mean seriously? A nose tumor? I am scared of a nose ring. But whatev. It is what it is and I am not worrying until the end of July.
But that is why I have been offline. More testing and more radioactive fun. Oh, and the pin cushion fun.
So at BlogHer…yes, I really am having fun. (Contrary to accusations that were made in a prior year.)
There you have it. No more to say until we know more. Mmmmm’kay?
Jenn and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
March 5, 2008
Ever have one of those days. You know. Those days. The kind where you want to hermit yourself and stay away from anyone and anything? If by chance you do come across another human being you will most likely snap at them or (worse yet) cry?
Nothing could go right today.
I was sad.
I was depressed.
I was hurting.
I was angry.
I was so very lonely yet wanted didn’t want to be with anyone.
Nothing made sense.
I couldn’t sit still but didn’t want to do anything.
I didn’t want to talk but I really wanted someone to listen.
I needed to write but didn’t want to say anything worthwhile.
I wanted to reach out but wanted to be left alone.
I looked at my husband and begged him pathetically through my tears, “Please just help me to not feel things so deeply! I hate it so much. Please. Please I just don’t want to feel.”
None of this made sense to me. Why? I was either crying or angry today. And then I looked at the calendar and it all made sense. It is the experience of being a dry drunk. (Or in my case, a drug-free druggie.) Climbing the walls for an invisible fix that I haven’t had for years. Acting out like a user but not using. It’s the timing.
So I am going with it. I am feeling what I feel. I am riding the wave. I am living it as it comes yet not letting it take me down. Today I will cry if I need to. Laugh when I feel it. Be alone when I need to be. And forgive myself for not reaching out when I so desperately needed to reach out.
Tomorrow? Tomorrow will be better. Experience tells me tomorrow will be good.
It is today that I feel unworthy and risk throwing it all away. And you have no idea how close I came. I am just in that bad of a place tonight.
Tonight I think I am going to go to bed and cry. Because I need to. Because I hate being where I am and know I need to not let it simmer inside. I am going to be angry, hurt and sad. But just for today.
Tomorrow I will share with you the Wonderful, Awesome, So Good, Very Big Day. And why I know it will be a good day.
I have no idea how to follow a sentence like that.
I was awake and saw the clock flip from 3:05am to 3:06am. The “official” moment she left this world. It was a bizarre feeling. I cried. I smiled at thoughts of her. I wandered the house. Not really wanting to sleep but not really wanting to do anything else either.
I have gone through every emotion and questioned so much since she died. I have tried to figure out how one goes about living life without a mom and what the secret is to actually accomplishing that successfully.
I miss her. I started to ask myself what I would say to her if we could talk. Something tells me she would do most of the talking at first. I know the life I have “lived” the past two years has been…well, disappointing. She always told me she could never, ever be disappointed in me. I believe her. But I have been disappointed in me. It isn’t all bad. I have learned. I have changed. I have grown and I have regressed. I have learned to say no when it is right and yes when I should try something new and scary. I have also learned that sometimes when you take a rough, tough piece of coal and apply an immense amount of pressure, sometimes it just stays coal. Which isn’t all bad. That, too, has purpose.
Last year I had things to say. Thoughts to share. Now, I am in a different place. A place of pondering and re-evaluation. This year, I am sad, introspective and feel lonely. But there was a strange new feeling, too. I felt something almost like freedom. No, that is not right. Not freedom so much as something lifted from my spirit. I suppose you could say it felt similar to getting permission to move forward.
I have lost so much these past two years. But I have gained a lot as well. The feeling I felt was as if I was giving myself permission to live again.
I will always, always….until I draw my own final breath…miss my Mom. She was my best friend. She was amazing. She was funny, full of life and the perfect person to be my mother. We fit. We were exactly what we both had in mind when it came to a mother/daughter relationship. I will not stop missing her. I will never get over the empty feeling that something hugely important in my life is missing. But I will move forward. I will give myself permission to move forward.
Because of who she was and how she raised me, I am taking her with me. In my laughter. In my sense of humor. In my ability to laugh at situations where it may be hard to find any humor. Because sometimes that is what you and everyone around you needs. She is with me. Always with me.
After wandering my home, I checked on the kids as they slept. When I looked in on my daughter, the dam of tears broke free. There is something about your own children that gives you both strength as well as weaknesses. There was my daughter. A little girl who needs me as much as I needed my Mom. A little girl who I want to look at me as I looked at my Mom. To love me in the unique way I love my Mom.
With tears streaming down my face, I crawled onto her bed beside her and drew her into my arms and just held her as she slept. Her sweet little girl breath softly tickling my neck as she lay dreaming.
I felt the complete circle. Mom passing the torch. And somehow– for the first time in two years– something inside me began to feel healing as I took the torch that was passed to me and vow to honor all it stands for.
As a woman–a mom– I tend to have this ability to try to carry the burden of others on my own shoulders.
My teen has already had a tough year. We have been ’round and ’round with that ridiculous administrator to the point where I am pretty sure I am going to have to either really go off or homeschool. Neither sounds good and both sound like trouble for me. The point is, my son and I talk. He shares with me when he has a problem. Being who I am, I tend to take a bit of that problem, hike it up onto my shoulders and try to carry some of his burden. It is what I do. It is who I am.
My preteen. He is going through something right now that turns me inside out with my desire to fix it. Yet, I have to go against a lot of maternal instinct and let him figure some things out on his own. But when he hurts, I hurt. When he comes to me with a problem or worry, I listen. I try to help. I offer whatever words of advice or comfort that I can and pray that I have done enough to give him strength to stand strong and figure some things out on his own. However, every time he comes to me with a worry, before I know it, I have hiked a little bit of that worry onto my shoulders and try to carry some of his burden. It is what I do. It is who I am.
My daughter. She is just now at that stage where she is learning that not everyone goes to all of the parties. Not everyone will say nice things to her. And the world just isn’t a perfect place. Oh, how I want to shield her and make the world the princess world of her imagination. Right now, when she comes crying to me over hurt feelings, I can wipe away her tears and have her feeling better in no time. Right now, it hasn’t become so heavy that I struggle with her worries. Yet. Though, with every tear drop that falls on my shoulder, I hike up a little bit of that pain onto my shoulders and try to carry some of her burden. It is what I do. It is who I am.
My husband. He is the love of my life. We are partners in this journey of life. I do what I can to help him along in his career, but there isn’t much I can do. Being in management there are times he just comes home stressed and needs to unload. I listen. I offer what minimal perspective I have on the situation and do what I can to at least make his home feel less stressful. Even knowing there is nothing I can do to make anything that has to do with his work better or easier, before I realize it, have hiked a little bit of that worry onto my shoulders and try to carry some of his burden. It is what I do. It is who I am.
I have to be honest, sometimes it gets pretty heavy. My shoulders may sag a bit. My walk may slow down a bit. My energy lagging. It can take it’s toll on how I feel both physically and mentally. But it is what I do. And I know that given a choice, I will always take any burden I can and help carry it for any member of my family.
And then? Sometimes? Sometimes, I get my feet kicked out from under me with my own burdens. My own worries. My own fears. My own tears. My own stresses. Those things alone? Perhaps I could stand up against it, but the weight of all that I carry suddenly feels too heavy and I drop to my knees. Something that is probably nothing brings me to my knees and keeps me there. Immobile. Frozen. Something that may have been taken in stride suddenly scares the wits out me to a point that I shut down.
Share the burden? I can’t. I couldn’t. I won’t. It is silly. They would think I am ridiculous. My fear is unfounded. They have their own worries. My “probably nothing” is not worthy of anyone else’s time or concern. I wouldn’t know what to say. I am not going to bother anyone else with my worries or silliness. I am over reacting and they don’t need my drama. I can do this alone.
Me? Afraid? Of course I am. So much so. But I’d never tell. It is what I do. It is who I am.
