Thursday, September 01, 2016

Midlife crisis, seasonal change and other causes of crisis.

It's an interesting moment when you realize, "Hey, I know what this is. This is a mid-life crisis." It's like all these factors are combining into a white-knuckling, grinding-of-teeth perfect storm.

Or maybe it's that fall is beginning. I love fall. I love the smell of decaying leaves all around, the school supplies — "bouquets of freshly sharpened pencils." However fall brings with it some sort of memory that I don't remember. Out of nowhere there is a pit in my stomach and it feels like my heart is breaking. I don't fight it off, that's just an exercise in futility. I accept that, for a couple of weeks out of each year, my brain goes into fight-or-flight mode at a higher level than usual. My BPD switch is easier to flip and if I start crying, I may not stop.

I'm grateful for movie theaters and other distractions that release this feeling of an anvil on my chest. I work hard to stay mindful, to soak up and enjoy every hilarious thing my children say and do, and hope they can't read my eyes and see what is happening behind my surface grin.

I now realize that exercise -- in addition to being something I should do for a variety of important reasons -- is as necessary to my mental state as my Lexapro. I'm officially making a schedule for workouts and sticking to it. Two weeks of exercise (about 3-4 days a week) keep my anxiety at bay. I get "too busy" with life and after 7 days, I'm a fucking mess. Total fucking mess.

I over analyze every goddamn heartbeat (was that too fast? too slow? to close to the previous one?), every ache and pain (my throat feels funny, am I getting sick again?), every weak feeling (do I have a heart condition? is this a stroke coming?). Want to know what anxiety is? It's knowing full damn well that nothing is wrong, but constantly being reminded by your brain that something COULD be wrong. And if that's the case, your brain will not let you think of anything else. Your brain will not let you focus on the grocery list or the sink of dishes that are not washed or how much time you are wasting, worrying. You picture the worst happening. You picture yourself collapsing, the older of the two children in the house grabbing the phone and calling 9-1-1 (you have a landline specifically for them to use in an emergency). You worry about your youngest, who has just endured a year of crippling anxiety and what this will lead to. You worry you won't be there to lead her through her next bout of crippling anxiety.

And all this happens before breakfast.

Thursday, June 05, 2014

Chapters ending, chapters beginning

Tomorrow is a big day. Saturday is a bigger day. I sort of have this "calm before the storm" feeling in my chest. It's the last day of kindergarten for Oskar. It's the last day of HIGH SCHOOL for Abbey.

*head spinning*

On one hand it feels exactly like what it is -- 12 long years of school wrapping up. On the other hand it's like I've blinked and suddenly Abbey the kindergartner turned into Abbey the high school graduate. 

It's a victory in so many ways. The significance is more than just a high school degree. It has taken so, so much work on her part -- and on the part of so many amazing individuals -- to get her here. The level of importance of this event is not lost on me.

There were days where I didn't know if we'd get to this spot, and really, I didn't think I cared; my main focus was "keep her alive and functioning." And we all did that -- with a lot of work and a lot of meds and a lot of tears and questions and answers that led to more questions.

And had she not graduated "on time" it would have been fine, but I knew that's what she really wanted. She didn't want schizophrenia to own her, and luckily we have such a substantial network of support and resources, it doesn't.

Am I nervous for the future? Of course I am. But for every ounce of anxiety and apprehension I have about the future, I have a pound of pride and an immeasurable amount of love.

Friday, May 09, 2014

I've got my work cut out for me ...

I doubt myself constantly, and I don't think I hide that. Or maybe I do. I give the appearance of someone very together, but it's in the quiet moments that, as long as I know my loved ones are ok, it's safe for me to step away and quietly fall to pieces.

Tonight was one of those night where I was just annoyed. The middle child was mad I suggested he brush his teeth (gasp! No!)  after shoving 10 Mike-n-Ike's into his mouth at once. As he squished the sugary matter up through the front of his teeth, all I could see was tiny, tasty little pieces wedging their way into the crevices of his teeth.

He stomps to the bathroom.

Moments later he returns. Jaw clenched, he says, "Go in the bathroom, I have a present for you."

I look at Dustin. I look at Olive. I'm hoping there's not a pile of poop on the floor.

I start to follow him and Olive joins me.

"Um Olive? Let me go first," I say, on the off chance that, yes, it is poop.

Mr. Middle Child had squeezed the better part of his toothpaste into the sink. A pile of shiny, thick, sticky, blue TMNT substance.

I look at him, and I can't tell if he's trying to make me laugh or make me pissed off. I'm pretty sure it was the latter, and I responded accordingly.

I'm not even sure why it made me so sad. Probably just bc I thought the age that someone can deliberately plan a "gift" with the intention of being an ass isn't until at least 9. 

Thursday, May 08, 2014

I make no promises ...

... that I will make daily posts. Especially when it's late at night and my posts are being made by typing on my phone with my thumb.

But I'm stepping back into the blogging room. How very 2006 of me!

A quick synopsis of where I am in life:

My oldest child is less than one month from high school graduation. My middle child just turned 6, and my youngest is 3-1/2. I'm home during the days and work 4-5 nights a week at a fantastic kid-gear resale shop. I turn 39 in about an hour. 

And my youngest is STILL AWAKE. Right now. 10:50pm. I suspect she is wearing me down to complete weakness so I don't argue when she asks for a Monster High doll tomorrow. I will simply nod my head and hope to god the doll will distract her enough to allow me a nap.

I started an additional blog a whole ago, I need my daughter's permission to divulge the address, bc it's dealing with an issue that is hers. I think it's worth sharing.

Can anyone bring me a Dr. Pepper? I'm parched. And lazy.

So my blog is back. Again. Maybe.

Wednesday, March 06, 2013

it's been a long time since i've visited this neighborhood ...

almost a year. holy cow. and in that spirit i want to start blogging again. yeah, i've said it before, i know, but i may as well give it a try again. i also had a blog at a different site that i've been updating on the downlow as it discusses stuff revolving around my daughter. that blog host is evaporating into thin air, so i'll be moving those posts here and will update from this spot.

stay tuned.

Monday, March 19, 2012

publisher's clearinghouse blah blah blah

every so often it comes into my head that i should enter the publisher's clearinghouse sweepstakes. they have commercials where a van (the Prize Patrol) shows up at someone's house, people emerge from the van like it's a damn clown car, there are balloons and a giant check for some old lady who answers the door wearing a house dress.

so naturally, i think "i should enter that contest! i could be next!" (this is not to say i own a house dress. i do not.)

but it's not just ONE contest. oh no. it's at least three emails a day, most of  which read something like this:

what in the fuck is a SUPERPRIZE NUMBER? i'm fine with entering a contest, but i have to have "ownership papers" of a number? some random number?

okay, clearinghouse, i'll bite. once. maybe twice. but then you send me THIS kind of shit after i skip one entry?

 yes, THAT must be it.
what kind of creepy, attempted-guilt-tripping type of crap is that? what genius came up with that notion? this did NOT make me enter the contest. no. this made me UNSUBSCRIBE. you hear that, clearinghouse? you've been 86'd from my inbox.

Wednesday, February 08, 2012

picture upload day!

waiting on a couple of work things to come in, so it's upload time, y'all.