Category Archives: thoughts

July 3, 2014

There’s No Mom of the Year Here

By Steph
crazyyetwise.wordpress.com

crazyyetwise.wordpress.com

I posted yesterday about Summertime Depression.  I didn’t particularly want to post it, but I feel like as a mom (or dad) these days we are always supposed to be “on.”

We are supposed to enroll our children in activities and then make sure we get them there.  We are supposed to make them study and play sports and play an instrument.  They should know which fork to use and how to give a speech or at least do a backflip.

Frankly, I’m pretty impressed with myself when my kids have clean clothes and I remember that they need haircuts.

Does that mean I’m a bad mom?  I don’t think so, but I’m no expert.  Right now I’m in a fog of depression and I can’t decide if my cat is really this big of an asshole or, if I was in better spirits would I not mind that my back is clawed up the way it hasn’t been since that one ever.

I think that my kids know that I love them, even on my worst days.  I know my kids have food to eat and clothes to wear and more gadgets and gizmos than I have myself.

Do we go to “activities” four times a week?  No.  Do I feel guilty about that?  Sometimes.  Sometimes I just think they have extra time to be kids.

I can’t, mentally or physically, be the PTA Super Mom.  I don’t like to play with Legos or Barbies.  I’m a terrible cook. (Also, I suck at juicing.)  But I will bake a cake on my kid’s birthday, and if I don’t have decorations I can make them, and if someone is sick or sad then I can stay up cleaning puke and rubbing backs for days.

I don’t know if I’m trying to justify my lackadaisical parenting to myself or to you or if I’m really trying to justify it at all.

I think I’m trying to explain that I posted my Mommy Depression post yesterday because I am SURE, positively, absolutely sure that there are other moms out there who feel the same way.  And I don’t know why it is so frowned upon to admit it.

Today I am not the best mom I can be.  I am better than I was yesterday.  Tomorrow I hope to be better than I am today.  But I’m not ashamed of the fact that I’m not “on” every minute of every day.  Being a mom (or dad) doesn’t magically imbue you with super powers.  I don’t have endless patience and sometimes I’m cranky.

Being a mom doesn’t take away the problems, mental or physical, that you had before, and sometimes it even awakens ones you didn’t know you had.

I think being a good mom (or dad) means just trying, every day.  Trying to love yourself and make sure your kids know that you love them.  I know that my kids know that they are my world, even on days when I’m sick or sad.  I know that my kids know that I will be there for them no matter what and they can talk to me.

I hope that I’m showing them by example how to be a decent person, even if I do struggle with depression and physical limitations.  I hope that I am showing them how to laugh and enjoy life, whether it is through or around the pain.

I’m trying.  Every day.

47 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , | posted in parenting, random bullshit, small humans, thoughts, your health is your wealth and this is why I'm poor

July 2, 2014

Summertime Depression

By Steph

 

cropped-glass.pngIt’s easier to be depressed during the school year.

As I feel myself falling down this familiar hole with all three kids here, I’m scrambling. I’m scrambling to tell them I’m sick, (which I am) and I’m tired (which I am) and to get them to just play and leave me alone.  I just want to lay in my bed in silence and stare at the wall for about 12 hours.

No, I do not want to play outside.

No, I do not want to go swimming.

No, I am not going to color.

No, I will not help you paint.

I don’t want to play and I’m not going to play.  I’m not good today and I just need you to be quiet and play with your five hundred million toys without needing my constant supervision and cheering on.

Yes, my depression makes me irritable.  No, it doesn’t help that everything hurts because I’ve overdone it this week and the weather is being weird.  Yes, I feel terribly guilty about it.  No, I don’t want to help you find whatever it is you’ve lost.

We made cookies from scratch yesterday.  Last week we put up the kiddie pool and I watched you swim for hours.  Last night we snuggled and watched movies.  Today I am broken.

Today I need to not be anyone’s mommy.  Today I can’t even take care of myself.

Depression is not easy any time, but it is hell in the summertime.

 

36 Comments   |  tags: , , , | posted in parenting, thoughts, your health is your wealth and this is why I'm poor

June 26, 2014

Tell Me Happies

By Steph

I’m so exhausted and I hope that’s why I feel like crying.

I’ve been sick for a couple of days.  So everything is a mess.

The new kitten has been peeing in the floor and chewing on my cords and trying to shit in my plants.  She’s also sneezing constantly and I think she’s got a cold, if that’s even possible.

My daughter’s hair is so tangled that I’m thinking at this point cutting it off would be maybe the best option.

I had to cancel my appointment for my gallbladder scan this morning because I was just too sick to go.  I’m hoping to make it to the cardiologist this afternoon.

I started writing a novel and I’m really excited about it.  It’s not the first one I’ve started, but hopefully will be the first one I finish.

I really need some good news.  Today would be an excellent day to get word on some of the pieces I’ve submitted lately.  Unless of course they are rejections, lol.  Then maybe wait a bit.

I just — I’m wrung out.  Exhausted mentally and physically and that’s after being in bed for two days.  I know a migraine is lurking, cause I always get one after I’m sick.

I’m going to try to list some positives here, then I need YOU to tell me some good news, okay?

1. I am not currently throwing up.  This is awesome.

2. I had that story idea which I am in love with.

3. We got a new kitten who is only half an asshole.

4. Leeloo (our other cat) doesn’t seem to hate me as much as she did when the new kitten first came home.

5. Since I cancelled my appointment this morning, I am drinking a cup of coffee and got to take my meds.

 

Your turn.

57 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , | posted in random bullshit, thoughts, your health is your wealth and this is why I'm poor

June 3, 2014

Why #YesAllWomen?

By Steph

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Because I have two sons and a daughter.

I’ve been seeing all this #YesAllWomen stuff everywhere.  I’ve been reading lots of talk, a lot of opinions, and of course a lot of bullshit.  I’ve read some who think it should be #AllPeople or #AllMen or whatever.  But I think they are missing the point.

 I started thinking of what I have experienced in my 34 years as a woman, and I don’t think a man, any man, would have experienced those things the way that I did.  Not all the things that women are so used to that we just shrug or walk away or lock our doors.

#YesAllWomen is not saying that ALL men are sexist, raping, murdering pigs.  I’m not saying all men are bad guys, or even not-great guys.  I’m saying that I do not know a man who has ever been afraid to walk to his car after dark because he might be shoved up against it and raped in the parking lot.  But every woman I know has felt that fear, or worse, the reality.

Lately I’ve been paying more attention to what people say to me when I’m out and about, and some of it is disturbing — mostly because I am so used to it, I guess, that it means nothing to me, and partly because I’ve caught myself thinking, “well, if you weren’t wearing this dress” or “you were bending over to buckle the car seat.”  Um, what was that?  Our rape culture has infected my brain, a woman’s brain, to the point that I excuse shouts of “DAYUM” or “I’d hit that!” because of WHAT I WAS WEARING OR DOING?

I’m ashamed of myself and that is why I’m writing this.  Because I don’t deserve to be spoken to like that and I don’t deserve to feel threatened because of my sex or my outfit.

When I was in kindergarten I only went to school half a day.  A little boy on my street went in the morning and I went in the afternoon, so we would pass each other walking to and from school.  One day on my way to school he stopped me by grabbing my arm and pulling me behind a short, wide tree in his yard and pulling up his shirt and down his pants.

When I was in the fifth grade I moved to a new school.  We sat in groups of four desks, two side by side and two facing.  For a couple of weeks I twisted my legs and shook my head and whispered fierce warnings to the little boy who sat across from me.  It didn’t stop him from taking his pencil and trying to insert it between my legs every day during class.  When I finally told the teacher, I thought I was in trouble.  The next day I got to pick a seat anywhere I wanted in class.

When I was 13 years old a boy on my bus stood up and when the bus hit a bump, pretended to fall, landing on top of me and not getting up for far too long.

When I was 18 years old and coming out of a big box store on my way to work, I found a note under the windshield wipers of my car.  The note said that if I just waved, the author would come over and do such vile things to me that I can’t even type them here.  Just wave, it said.  I was scared to even look up or move my hands even to lock the doors, but lock the doors I did, and drove away.  I went on to work and only told my parents about it later.

When I was 19-years-old I worked nights alone at a convenience store.  One man would come in every night and just watch me for hours.  I was so afraid of him that I wrote down his name and license plate number on a receipt book with the note, “if I disappear, he did it.”  Eventually my dad started coming to work with me every night until I got put back on the day shift.

When I was 20-something, a man tried to get into my car, chasing me around it and beating on the windows to be let in.  He was yelling the entire time.  This was at a convenience store in broad daylight and no one did anything.  I did not know the man and I locked myself in the car and drove away.  Later that day I reported the incident to the store owner, who basically laughed at me.

Last week two strangers yelled things at my rear end, indicating that they were enjoying the view and would like to see more.  I ignored it for the most part; thought that I shouldn’t have been bending over trying to hook up a car seat while wearing a dress and heels, even if the dress did come almost to my ankles.

I’m not saying that all women are all good.  I’m not saying that a woman would never harm another woman. But I think as women, we hurt each other in different ways.  A woman could threaten me with rape and worse, either as a joke or as a real threat, but it seems less likely to me simply because a woman understands that fear of having your body taken without your consent.  Also, generally they don’t have penises.  I said GENERALLY, calm the fuck down.  God.

I’m sure, I mean POSITIVELY sure that there have been more incidents like this throughout my life.  These are just the ones that stand out right now.  And I think it’s pretty sad that I can think of 7 instances off the top of my head where I was treated with at least total disrespect and at most threat of harm, invasion of my personal space, threat of rape, kidnapping, or murder.  And those were just the times strangers accosted me.  I’m not even mentioning the times when the perpetrator was someone I knew and trusted.  I’m not ready for that yet, or maybe ever.

So, men.  Think back.  How many times can you remember being catcalled by a woman, or where a woman has touched you inappropriately (without your consent), or sexually harassed you, or threatened you with rape?  That’s why it’s #YesAllWomen.

 

Now, for some lighter fare, go check out my new page Reviews, News, and Booze where I interviewed Brad Carter, author of Saturday Night of the Living Dead!

41 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , | posted in Blogging, random bullshit, thoughts

May 20, 2014

Pt. 1: Is This Really My Life? Pt. 2: Yes. And that’s okay.

By Steph

I wrote part of this yesterday and was so ashamed of it that I password protected the draft.

Last night was a better night; my kids have an amazing ability to  cut straight through to my core and remind me how love feels.  I guess they pull me out of my own head, and I need that, cause my head is not always nice to me.

I wrote the second part this morning.  I am hoping that by sharing this post, maybe someone who is in the dark might see how quickly the clouds can pass. Alternately, I hope that those of you who do not suffer from depression and anxiety may get a little bit better understanding of the intensity of feeling, the fear, the anger, and the self-disgust that some of us deal with all too often.

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*** MILD TRIGGER WARNING — TALK OF SUICIDE***

Alternate title:  I’m fucking broken. 

I think that it is Mental Health Awareness month.  Or maybe it’s Fibromyalgia Awareness Month.  Or maybe it’s none of those things and I am just behind on my months the way I’m behind on everything else in life.  Who knows.

Anyway.  Things are not good in the brain here lately.  I’ve noticed that a lot of the bloggers I follow seem similarly out of order.  Seems like a good time for a Canvas of the Minds post, even though my head is telling me that it will be stupid, it won’t help me or anyone else, and I should probably just stop writing altogether.  Fuck you, head.  We are obviously not on the same team right now, so you can just shut up.

Without further ado, I present a day in the life of me, my chronic pain, depression, anxiety, and potty mouth.

Monday, May 19, 2014

6:06 a.m.  Wake up.  Hobble to living room.  Want to cry because everything hurts and there’s no coffee.  Make coffee.  Wake up kids.  Take meds.  Realize that because I was sick yesterday I did not take my meds and now today is going to suck really badly.  Realize that because I was sick yesterday I did not do any laundry and this morning is going to suck badly.  Try to find clothes for children.  SUCCESS! Kind of.  At least they are not naked.  Comb daughter’s hair even though it hurts and I can hardly hold the comb.  Get hugs.  Realize that because I was sick yesterday we did not do her project and I am a failure.  Write note to teacher that likely does not even make sense.  Realize that teacher probably already knows that I am a fuckup and send note even though it doesn’t make sense.  Realize that I don’t have any cash, so kids have no lunch money.  Think about all the things I had planned on doing yesterday and feel like a failure because I was sick and didn’t do any of them.

7:00 a.m.  Everyone leaves.  Drink coffee, smoke cigarette, curse at self.  Think about what I need to do today.  Get overwhelmed and cry.  Try to get someone to take lunch money to kids.  Get irrationally angry at doctor’s office for making me get up to answer an automated message.  Pee about 15 times.  Hold head in hands.  Stare at wall.  Feed cat.  Play Candy Crush. Watch video on Facebook that makes me cry.  Go outside, sit in shade, think that I should spend more time in the sun.  Go inside.

8:00 a.m. Check email, various messages, read blogs, prepare for phone call.  Do some other stuff which I can’t remember but I’m sure I did.

9:00 a.m.  Make stressful phone call.  Shake so hard I almost drop phone.  Cry.  Decide I should lay back down because everything hurts and I am sad.  Lay down.  Everything still hurts and I am still sad.  Clench teeth and try to go to sleep.  Get up because I have to pee.  Again.  Lay down under electric blanket even though I’m hot.  Cry.  Feel nauseous and worried.  Think about a million things that I should not think about if I want to fall asleep.  Bills, kids, failure, bad mother, bad mother, bad wife, bad person, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts.  Pee again.  Curse at self because I can’t even sleep right.

10:30 a.m.  Get up.  Make more coffee.  Put on bra.  This doesn’t help.   Take medicine.  Everything hurts.  Ponder how I can live the rest of my life feeling this shitty.  Think about doing laundry.  Drink more coffee.  Look at bills.  Read blogs.  Get feelings hurt for no reason.  Get irrationally angry at cat toy.  Worry how I will be able to act happy when the kids get home.  Feel bad because I know they know I am sad.  Practice smiling.  Cry.

1:00 p.m.  Decide to write this stupid blog.  Arms hurt so bad that I can’t type after first paragraph.  Curse myself, silently this time because I think I’ve been upsetting my cat with all the yelling.  Wonder how the fuck I am supposed to get anything accomplished when I feel so shitty.  Think if I was going to kill myself, I would eat a lot of meat first.  Read article about stupid meat allergy.  Eat a cup of peaches.  Smell a funny smell in kitchen and think I should clean the kitchen so it looks like it did Saturday, but then I got sick Sunday so maybe I should rest.  I hate resting.  Wonder how come I only feel like a worthwhile human being if I have accomplished something.  Wonder if just existing is this hard for anyone else?

1:30 p.m.  Realize kids will be home in three hours.  Think I should listen to some music or go for a walk to cheer me up.  Don’t do either of those things.  Think about calling my dad but know I will just cry.  Mom calls, points out that I haven’t eaten anything but one cup of peaches in the last two days.  Eat another cup of peaches.

That is as far as I’ve made it today, and looking back over that, it’s disgusting.  I don’t know what I expect to accomplish with this.  I think my initial thought was that maybe someone who didn’t have depression, anxiety, or pain could read it and get an idea of what it is like, but now that just sounds like the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.  I’m pretty sure I told myself I was going to post it anyway, because my brain can’t be trusted right now, but what if the bad idea was writing this in the first place?  This is just so stupid.

After I wrote that, I proceeded to have a full-blown, hunker down in the floor, shaking, heart pounding, terrifying panic attack.  Laid in floor and practiced breathing exercises until I could get meds, then laid in bed and focused on breathing in the good, out the bad.

***************************************************************************

Part 2

When the kids got home yesterday, things got considerably better.  Thing 2 came home from school not feeling well and after a big hug, he went straight to bed.  I hope he is not feeling the same way I’m feeling.  My mom made us dinner and talked to me for a while and also gave me a big hug.  Thing 3 fell asleep on my lap watching the Bachelorette, after we chose some pictures of her to send to school and picked a favorite book for her to take.  Thing 1 is so funny.  He cracks me up all the time.  We made some jokes about the guys on the Bachelorette, and he offered to carry Thing 3 to bed; so sweet, always watching out for me.  Husband came home and I filled him in on the Bachelorette and then we watched Jimmy Kimmel.  Godzilla, people?  Really?  Oh, that was hilarious.  Then I went to bed and it only took me probably an hour to fall asleep.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

6:25 a.m.  Husband wakes me up.  I don’t speak to him.  Go get coffee and meds.  Everything hurts.  Get Thing 3 dressed and brush her hair, wake up Things 1 and 2, and am happy to tell them they have clean clothes in the dryer.  I am happy that we did Thing 3’s homework last night.  Husband shares video of movie trailer — I will watch anything with a talking raccoon, especially one who has to adjust his balls.  (I’ve got issues.)

7:15 a.m. Everyone leaves. It was a good morning.  I drink coffee, look at email and Facebook and messages.  Get sleepy.

8:00 a.m.  Go back to bed and sleep like a baby for 2 hours, even though the phone woke me up midway.

10:00 a.m.  Drink coffee.  Think about stuff I need to talk to the doctor about.  Think about making a list.  Play Candy Crush.  Think that maybe it’s okay that my brain is so fucked up sometimes, since a lot of highly creative, talented people struggle with mental illness.  Decide to add this to my post from yesterday that I never posted and even password protected because I was so ashamed of it.  Marvel at the difference a day makes.  Feel thankful that the tide turned once again and that I am still here on the beach.  Think about trying to build something stronger to hold onto for next time.

43 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , | posted in Blogging, thoughts, your health is your wealth and this is why I'm poor