Well this year is just about over and it has been a complete roller coaster for me.
It started out with my daughter husband and I being homeless for all of January. But we were lucky enough to have amazing friends and family who let us stay with them. Dan with Dave, Bonnie, Missy and Emma at the Sub (the Sub is the nickname for their house) and Titania and I stayed with my parents. It was hard but we made it through and many thanks go to Bonnie for all her help in finding us our apartment. I'm not sure what we would have done without them.
In the next few months I was forced to deal with PPD and went into therapy. Titania took her first play ride to Sarasota, Florida for my cousin Michaels wedding. It was beautiful and I had a blast being seeing my extended family again.
My parents finally realized their their dream and moved permanently to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. I miss them terribly but was happy that they finally got to move down south like they always wanted, and thanks to Skype we can still see each other, (granted my webcam doesn't act up).
In June my grandfather passed away, and I feel honored to know that I was there with him at the end. I held his hand for 8 hours, I read to him and sang to him and let him know how much our family loves and respects him. I miss him so much and still cry every now and then. But the memories always keep me smiling and I can't wait to tell Titania all about her amazing Great-Grandfather, starting with how he came over to America from Italy all by himself at 10 years old.
My awesome niece Emma turned 4 years old in June and just seems to have grown up overnight. It was awesome to celebrate her first "kid" party where her mom invited her friends from school and daycare. Emma had a blast and in my opinion the best part of the day was when Emma opened her presents and the toys got barely a passing glance and the big girl underpants received the excitement. LOL.
The summer brought short term employment for me, but because my daughter is my first responsibility I lost the job and am now a full time stay-at-home mom.
In November I resumed my post as Emma's nanny. I now have the distinct pleasure of taking care of 2 of the coolest girls in the world, and Titania is learning so much from Emma and I think Emma is learning from Titania as well.
Titania turned 1 this year and had 3 separate birthday parties. I've never been so exhausted in my life. But Titania had a great time at all three, our friends and family were very good to us and we loved being able to celebrate with everyone. Titania also had her very first taste of ice cream cake and at first she enjoyed it until she realized that holding ice cream makes your fingers very cold. She also started walking around the time of her birthday and now we can't slow her down.
For Christmas we were lucky enough to head down to South Carolina to spend the holiday with my parents. The drive was long but we made it there and had an amazing time. Titania took her first trip to the beach and loved picking up shells and exploring the beach. My parents had a blast playing with their granddaughter and I had a blast watching them. It was a wonderful trip but Dan Titania and I were relieved to return home to sleep in our own beds.
This year has been crazy and insane in the best and worst ways. I'm hoping for the best of 2009 to repeat in 2010 and the worst to stay behind.
I hope everyone has a safe and happy new year and may all your wishes be granted times 2.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Saturday, December 26, 2009
My Childhood - Past and Present
From the outside looking in my childhood rivaled all those shows from the 1950s. 2 loving parents, kids playing in the front and back yards, some of the kids belonged to my parents but some of them were neighbor kids. Up until I started with full time school my mother was a stay at home mom, and my father worked. Of course it wasn't picture perfect all the time. With 4 kids running around how on earth could it be? My brothers and I fought, my mother yelled, we even received spankings from time to time.
I remember weekends being the most fun, Mom drinking coffee and reading the paper, Dad and I would run out to LaCourt and buy Italian bread (and he'd always let me get a little treat as well) then we'd go home, and eat Italian bread and butter for breakfast. Then my brothers and I would watch TV til Mom chased us out of the house, or made us do our chores.
These memories came back to me today because Dan, Titania and I drove to South Carolina to spend Christmas with my parents and brother. This has seriously been an amazing weekend.
Being down here really makes me want to move down here.
As a kid my mother and I butted heads more often then not. If we weren't arguing about cleaning my room, it was brushing my hair or my clothing options etc. But now we've managed to transition into friends. I tell her almost everything, I talk to her almost every day either via text messages or phone calls. And being down here while its great to be here and be with my parents again, it makes me sad to know that tomorrow we need to head back home to NJ.
I've been talking to Dan about moving down here but usually in the back of my head it's always been there that if we couldn't move down here it wouldn't be the end of the world. Well being here has changed that.
I don't want to go home. I want to be here and know that I am home. I want to be able to call up my mom and make plans and 5 minutes later be at her house, or her at mine. I would love to just go out and look for a house right now but I know that is just not possible. Dan and I have commitments and responsibilities in NJ and moving down here just can't happen for at least a few more years.
But for right now I'm just going to enjoy what little time we have left here, before returning to real life!
Hope everyone had a great and safe Christmas, and Have a Safe and Happy New Year!
I remember weekends being the most fun, Mom drinking coffee and reading the paper, Dad and I would run out to LaCourt and buy Italian bread (and he'd always let me get a little treat as well) then we'd go home, and eat Italian bread and butter for breakfast. Then my brothers and I would watch TV til Mom chased us out of the house, or made us do our chores.
These memories came back to me today because Dan, Titania and I drove to South Carolina to spend Christmas with my parents and brother. This has seriously been an amazing weekend.
Being down here really makes me want to move down here.
As a kid my mother and I butted heads more often then not. If we weren't arguing about cleaning my room, it was brushing my hair or my clothing options etc. But now we've managed to transition into friends. I tell her almost everything, I talk to her almost every day either via text messages or phone calls. And being down here while its great to be here and be with my parents again, it makes me sad to know that tomorrow we need to head back home to NJ.
I've been talking to Dan about moving down here but usually in the back of my head it's always been there that if we couldn't move down here it wouldn't be the end of the world. Well being here has changed that.
I don't want to go home. I want to be here and know that I am home. I want to be able to call up my mom and make plans and 5 minutes later be at her house, or her at mine. I would love to just go out and look for a house right now but I know that is just not possible. Dan and I have commitments and responsibilities in NJ and moving down here just can't happen for at least a few more years.
But for right now I'm just going to enjoy what little time we have left here, before returning to real life!
Hope everyone had a great and safe Christmas, and Have a Safe and Happy New Year!
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
My Experiences With Suicide
(written at 2am on my palm while I tried to sleep.)
I know what its like to look around and say I don’t want to be alive anymore. I also know what its like to see my family’s reaction to that same statement. Neither one is a pretty situation.
Remembering the days when I thought the only way to solve my problems was by committing suicide are definitely not pleasant ones, although I find myself thinking about them often. Usually when imp wondering where my life is going.
In terms of my future I really hadn’t thought past getting married and having a baby. Those goals and my family (and later on) my husband are what gave me the strength to stay alive.
When I was in high school my brother’s ex-girlfriend and I had become pen pals after she returned home to Sweden. In one of my letters to her I confessed that I was very sad and depressed all the time and the only thing I wanted to do was just run the blade of a mini x-acto knife up my arms and end it. About a week later my other brother, during a fire drill at school pulled me aside and told me we were ditching and to get in his car. He didn’t tell me where we were going or why but I recognized the route to my mothers school. Entering her office I could not even think about why we were here except that I was in trouble again and maybe I should have pressed down harder last night. At that moment I was so sick of fighting with my mother, and so fed up with being outcasted and all the name calling and bullying from my classmates that I wanted it to end in the easiest way I could think of.
When my brother and I went into my moms office the first thing I noticed was that she was as pale as a sheet, the other was that she was more upset then id ever seen her.
My mother locked the door and the 3 of us sat down in her office. She gave me a chance to come clean asking me what was the matter. I had no idea where she was going so I just shrugged. She then asked me why I wanted to kill myself. I began to cry as my brother (who I thought was pissed off) ran into the bathroom of her office. All I could think was how did she find out. And how could I make all this go away as quickly as possible. It felt like my mother was madder at me then she'd ever been. Later I realized that she was scared to death and was searching for a solution, whereas all I wanted was a way out.
I later learned that my savior was in Sweden. After my pen pal received my letter she called my brother who quickly called my mom. There was talk about therapy and hospitals and such but it would be a while before I actually got to a psychoanalysts office. I had thought that my secret would be safe halfway around the world. I now thankfully see that it had not.
I pretty much put the thoughts of suicide out of my head for a while. I was still getting into fights with my parents and my brothers, I still felt completely outcasted at school. But I was so afraid of what might happen if I tried to kill myself and failed. Ironically I was scared shitless that if I tried, my mother would have killed me.
I later learned that while my mother was scared and yelling and trying to figure out why and my father was concerned and trying to comfort me as much as possible, one of my brothers was so angry at me he probably wanted to throttle me. Being the first to find out your sister is suicidal couldn’t have been easy for him and seeing how strong he thinks everyone should be, he made no secret of the fact that he thought I was a stupid selfish coward for wanting to end my life at 16 years old. Lets just say for the record, not the best way to talk someone off the ledge, so to speak.
Eventually I got into therapy and on antidepressants and thought off killing myself slowly got pushed to a faraway corner of my mind.
Fast-forward about 6 years, I met the man who would become my husband, and through him made a ton of friends. I had a decent job doing tech support and it looked like my life was starting to make sense. Then all of a sudden those feelings of hopelessness and unworthiness came back. But instead of seeing a way out I was scared out of my mind. I had anxieties about work. All I did was watch TV and cry, never really caring about the characters I was watching, while I was at my boyfriends’ house. (I rarely spent time at home once I met Dan) and while I lay in his room my mind would see a pair of nail clippers or scissors and without trying to or wanting to I’d imagine pulling those sharp metal tools across my skin. This time I didn’t write a letter to a faraway land, I went to my doctor. While waiting I had thoughts of smashing the picture that hung in the exam room so I could cut my skin. Not necessarily to die but just to feel something else, something other then sadness. That afternoon I was voluntarily admitted to a psychiatric hospital. I stayed there a week, tried new meds, and met some very nice people. I also met some very nasty people. I cried myself to sleep my first night there. Wondering how id gotten back to this point. My life was infinitely better then it was 6 years earlier. I had little to no contact with anyone I went to high school with. And I had a bunch of friends who accepted me for who I am.
After leaving the hospital I was back in out patient therapy, taking more meds and trying to get my life going. About a year later I figured out my own warning signs and took myself off my meds. (Having ADHD and being on meds since the age of 6/7 didn’t leave me wanting more meds in my life). So I achieved my goals. I’ve been married for just over 2 1/2 years, I have a beautiful daughter and so many friends who truly know and care about me.
Maybe I’ll check out fund raising or charity work to support suicide prevention. It’s something to look into.
Well its 2am and my brain is empty. Goodnight.
I know what its like to look around and say I don’t want to be alive anymore. I also know what its like to see my family’s reaction to that same statement. Neither one is a pretty situation.
Remembering the days when I thought the only way to solve my problems was by committing suicide are definitely not pleasant ones, although I find myself thinking about them often. Usually when imp wondering where my life is going.
In terms of my future I really hadn’t thought past getting married and having a baby. Those goals and my family (and later on) my husband are what gave me the strength to stay alive.
When I was in high school my brother’s ex-girlfriend and I had become pen pals after she returned home to Sweden. In one of my letters to her I confessed that I was very sad and depressed all the time and the only thing I wanted to do was just run the blade of a mini x-acto knife up my arms and end it. About a week later my other brother, during a fire drill at school pulled me aside and told me we were ditching and to get in his car. He didn’t tell me where we were going or why but I recognized the route to my mothers school. Entering her office I could not even think about why we were here except that I was in trouble again and maybe I should have pressed down harder last night. At that moment I was so sick of fighting with my mother, and so fed up with being outcasted and all the name calling and bullying from my classmates that I wanted it to end in the easiest way I could think of.
When my brother and I went into my moms office the first thing I noticed was that she was as pale as a sheet, the other was that she was more upset then id ever seen her.
My mother locked the door and the 3 of us sat down in her office. She gave me a chance to come clean asking me what was the matter. I had no idea where she was going so I just shrugged. She then asked me why I wanted to kill myself. I began to cry as my brother (who I thought was pissed off) ran into the bathroom of her office. All I could think was how did she find out. And how could I make all this go away as quickly as possible. It felt like my mother was madder at me then she'd ever been. Later I realized that she was scared to death and was searching for a solution, whereas all I wanted was a way out.
I later learned that my savior was in Sweden. After my pen pal received my letter she called my brother who quickly called my mom. There was talk about therapy and hospitals and such but it would be a while before I actually got to a psychoanalysts office. I had thought that my secret would be safe halfway around the world. I now thankfully see that it had not.
I pretty much put the thoughts of suicide out of my head for a while. I was still getting into fights with my parents and my brothers, I still felt completely outcasted at school. But I was so afraid of what might happen if I tried to kill myself and failed. Ironically I was scared shitless that if I tried, my mother would have killed me.
I later learned that while my mother was scared and yelling and trying to figure out why and my father was concerned and trying to comfort me as much as possible, one of my brothers was so angry at me he probably wanted to throttle me. Being the first to find out your sister is suicidal couldn’t have been easy for him and seeing how strong he thinks everyone should be, he made no secret of the fact that he thought I was a stupid selfish coward for wanting to end my life at 16 years old. Lets just say for the record, not the best way to talk someone off the ledge, so to speak.
Eventually I got into therapy and on antidepressants and thought off killing myself slowly got pushed to a faraway corner of my mind.
Fast-forward about 6 years, I met the man who would become my husband, and through him made a ton of friends. I had a decent job doing tech support and it looked like my life was starting to make sense. Then all of a sudden those feelings of hopelessness and unworthiness came back. But instead of seeing a way out I was scared out of my mind. I had anxieties about work. All I did was watch TV and cry, never really caring about the characters I was watching, while I was at my boyfriends’ house. (I rarely spent time at home once I met Dan) and while I lay in his room my mind would see a pair of nail clippers or scissors and without trying to or wanting to I’d imagine pulling those sharp metal tools across my skin. This time I didn’t write a letter to a faraway land, I went to my doctor. While waiting I had thoughts of smashing the picture that hung in the exam room so I could cut my skin. Not necessarily to die but just to feel something else, something other then sadness. That afternoon I was voluntarily admitted to a psychiatric hospital. I stayed there a week, tried new meds, and met some very nice people. I also met some very nasty people. I cried myself to sleep my first night there. Wondering how id gotten back to this point. My life was infinitely better then it was 6 years earlier. I had little to no contact with anyone I went to high school with. And I had a bunch of friends who accepted me for who I am.
After leaving the hospital I was back in out patient therapy, taking more meds and trying to get my life going. About a year later I figured out my own warning signs and took myself off my meds. (Having ADHD and being on meds since the age of 6/7 didn’t leave me wanting more meds in my life). So I achieved my goals. I’ve been married for just over 2 1/2 years, I have a beautiful daughter and so many friends who truly know and care about me.
Maybe I’ll check out fund raising or charity work to support suicide prevention. It’s something to look into.
Well its 2am and my brain is empty. Goodnight.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
It's the Little Things
I went to bed at 11:30pm. Titania woke up 20 minutes later and I got to indulge in one of my favorite things, giving her a bottle while lying in my bed.
I love when she reaches out to touch me with her icy cold fingers (cold because of the cold milk in her bottle), and how she tries to watch TV while still drinking but she just cant seem to position the bottle to drink and watch at the same time.
Tonight I let her stay in bed with me a little bit longer the usual, I just didn’t want to put her back in her crib yet, she almost fell asleep in my arms. It's been a while since she’s done that. It only lasted a few minutes before she realized she was up past her bedtime, it must be playtime.
I let her sit up, played with her as she reached for the remote so she could push the buttons, and the smile she had on her face while pushing those buttons was just great.
Watching her do the simplest things brings such a joy to her face. I just love watching her discover the world. It really makes you stop and notice the little things. Like discovering for the first time that 2 brightly colored blocks make such an interesting sound when you bang them together.
As we grow and mature we tend to forget the amazement in such little things. I think we should all stop, take a step back and really look at the world around us. We may surprise ourselves.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
It's not a matter of "I Can't" It's a matter of "I Won't"
(this was originally posted to Facebook notes last night)
Ah joy. I woke up at 4:15 to go to the bathroom and my brain chooses that moment to start running on about my body issues.
I'm not writing this to ask for help or advice (though anyone who reads this will probably offer just that), or to gain any pity from anyone, I'm writing this to get it out of my head so I can go back to sleep.
The last time I weighed myself, I was almost 300lbs. I'm sure by now that I'm at least that if not more. I am not proud of this. But I've come to the realization that it's not that I can't change, it's that I won't change.
We all have the power within ourselves to eat healthier, to get up and do some sort of exercise, but for some reason I've decided (subconsciously of course) that I deserve to be overweight, and unhappy with it. (because of course who would WANT to look like this???) Basically I'm punishing myself for some unknown wrongdoing.
For anyone reading this who does not know, I have a history of depression, of cutting myself, and I have been through therapy numerous times because of this. So the fact that I have found yet another way to beat myself up, well it's really not surprising to me at all.
Ever since I was a little girl I have felt that I was not good enough. From feeling that my brothers didn't want me in their lives (because I was the little sister and what little boy wants his baby sister trailing along after him?) to feeling outcasted in school and going to my senior prom alone (and then wishing I had never gone. That was probably my most miserable memory from high school).
My life has gone from feeling like I was never accepted to knowing that I have this huge circle of friends, some of which I know for a fact would do anything and everything to help me when I need it. Not to mention my husband who, despite my protestations, tells me often how beautiful I am, and a daughter who loves me unconditionally (both of which I never thought I'd ever have) So why do I feel the need to punish myself in probably the most easily hidden yet blatantly obvious way???
Well that I have no answer for. Maybe I need to go back to therapy but without insurance that's just not possible.
Food has always been a comfort for me. From the meals my mother cooked with love (Mom, I swear I'm not blaming you!!), to the bag of potato chips that never judged me. When I hit a low point, food is there to help me forget. When I hit a high point, food is there to help me celebrate.
Well my mother has always told me that every meal is a choice. Instead of the french fries, get a salad. Instead of eating chips or ice cream while watching a movie, go for some carrot sticks. Sounds easy right? But why is it so hard to make the "right" choice when its time for it. How do I reprogram my brain to say, I don't want this, I want that instead and make "that" something healthy. Again, another question for a therapist, but then what good is an answer if I refuse (whether consciously or unconsciously) to follow it.
I firmly believe that this particular issue is starting to lead to other issues with my body. For one, after standing most of the day at a friends bridal shower I began to have a pain in the heal of my foot. This pain causes me to limp when I walk after sitting for anything over 5 minutes, and it's even worse after I've been sleeping. It has been going on now for over 3 weeks. So go to a doctor, some might say. Well again, no insurance, and being a stay at home mother does not provide the paycheck to afford the low-cost clinic where I had my checkups when I was pregnant, (which when you look at all the bills that get racked up, its really not a low cost at all).
So now I'm not only dealing with moving into the category of morbidly obese (yes I have been there for a while, but now it actually feels like it), but now I have a hard time walking, and its just a matter of time before something else starts to hurt.
If you actually read this far, I applaud you. And if I see you in person, I promise I won't make you sit through any diatribes about my weight. It's not something I talk about openly, which is probably a whole other issue.
OK I think my brain is sufficiently empty and I can go back to bed.
I'm not writing this to ask for help or advice (though anyone who reads this will probably offer just that), or to gain any pity from anyone, I'm writing this to get it out of my head so I can go back to sleep.
The last time I weighed myself, I was almost 300lbs. I'm sure by now that I'm at least that if not more. I am not proud of this. But I've come to the realization that it's not that I can't change, it's that I won't change.
We all have the power within ourselves to eat healthier, to get up and do some sort of exercise, but for some reason I've decided (subconsciously of course) that I deserve to be overweight, and unhappy with it. (because of course who would WANT to look like this???) Basically I'm punishing myself for some unknown wrongdoing.
For anyone reading this who does not know, I have a history of depression, of cutting myself, and I have been through therapy numerous times because of this. So the fact that I have found yet another way to beat myself up, well it's really not surprising to me at all.
Ever since I was a little girl I have felt that I was not good enough. From feeling that my brothers didn't want me in their lives (because I was the little sister and what little boy wants his baby sister trailing along after him?) to feeling outcasted in school and going to my senior prom alone (and then wishing I had never gone. That was probably my most miserable memory from high school).
My life has gone from feeling like I was never accepted to knowing that I have this huge circle of friends, some of which I know for a fact would do anything and everything to help me when I need it. Not to mention my husband who, despite my protestations, tells me often how beautiful I am, and a daughter who loves me unconditionally (both of which I never thought I'd ever have) So why do I feel the need to punish myself in probably the most easily hidden yet blatantly obvious way???
Well that I have no answer for. Maybe I need to go back to therapy but without insurance that's just not possible.
Food has always been a comfort for me. From the meals my mother cooked with love (Mom, I swear I'm not blaming you!!), to the bag of potato chips that never judged me. When I hit a low point, food is there to help me forget. When I hit a high point, food is there to help me celebrate.
Well my mother has always told me that every meal is a choice. Instead of the french fries, get a salad. Instead of eating chips or ice cream while watching a movie, go for some carrot sticks. Sounds easy right? But why is it so hard to make the "right" choice when its time for it. How do I reprogram my brain to say, I don't want this, I want that instead and make "that" something healthy. Again, another question for a therapist, but then what good is an answer if I refuse (whether consciously or unconsciously) to follow it.
I firmly believe that this particular issue is starting to lead to other issues with my body. For one, after standing most of the day at a friends bridal shower I began to have a pain in the heal of my foot. This pain causes me to limp when I walk after sitting for anything over 5 minutes, and it's even worse after I've been sleeping. It has been going on now for over 3 weeks. So go to a doctor, some might say. Well again, no insurance, and being a stay at home mother does not provide the paycheck to afford the low-cost clinic where I had my checkups when I was pregnant, (which when you look at all the bills that get racked up, its really not a low cost at all).
So now I'm not only dealing with moving into the category of morbidly obese (yes I have been there for a while, but now it actually feels like it), but now I have a hard time walking, and its just a matter of time before something else starts to hurt.
If you actually read this far, I applaud you. And if I see you in person, I promise I won't make you sit through any diatribes about my weight. It's not something I talk about openly, which is probably a whole other issue.
OK I think my brain is sufficiently empty and I can go back to bed.
Out of the Gate and Out of My Mind
OK so I figured I'd start this blog. Obviously. It's called Mother Doesn't Always Know Best but it's not always going to be about motherhood and raising my daughter, and taking care of my niece.
This whole idea to start a blog started last night (or early this morning however you want to look at it) when I was trying to fall asleep and my brain would not stop rolling. I wrote a Facebook note that seemed to me more like a blog then anything else. So here I am, I'm nothing special (though my family and friends may disagree), just a stay at home mom who is trying to maintain her sanity while taking care of a 1 year old and a 4 year old.
A little bit about myself; I'm 28 years old, happily married and unemployed in the respect that I don't get paid for the 12-13 hours of work I put in a day. As with anything else some days its harder to get out of bed then others. But I do it and at the end of the day my daughters smile and my niece's hugs make it all worth it.
Feedback is welcome, but please keep any and all insults to yourself. If at anytime you don't like what your reading, please feel free to stop reading. I'd rather have no one read this then hear about how insulting I'm being. Though I will try and be as PC and fair as I can.
Well my brains empty so that's the end.
This whole idea to start a blog started last night (or early this morning however you want to look at it) when I was trying to fall asleep and my brain would not stop rolling. I wrote a Facebook note that seemed to me more like a blog then anything else. So here I am, I'm nothing special (though my family and friends may disagree), just a stay at home mom who is trying to maintain her sanity while taking care of a 1 year old and a 4 year old.
A little bit about myself; I'm 28 years old, happily married and unemployed in the respect that I don't get paid for the 12-13 hours of work I put in a day. As with anything else some days its harder to get out of bed then others. But I do it and at the end of the day my daughters smile and my niece's hugs make it all worth it.
Feedback is welcome, but please keep any and all insults to yourself. If at anytime you don't like what your reading, please feel free to stop reading. I'd rather have no one read this then hear about how insulting I'm being. Though I will try and be as PC and fair as I can.
Well my brains empty so that's the end.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
