So my mom died

My mom died. She was 49, living her life and she died. She felt a twinge, went numb, went to the doctor. They cut her open, found a tumor. She fought, and she lost.
Almost two and a half months ago I was at work pouring beer and chatting with the regulars when I lost my sight in my right eye. Ten minutes later my fingers went numb. Then my arm. My shoulder, my face, my right side was useless. I was so so scared. The hospital called it a migraine. IV fluids and muscle relaxers. But I didn’t have a headache until after I got the feeling back in my body. Id never had one before, and so i just went with it. i mentioned to a family member that my symptoms were really similar to my mothers. I told my doctor, the same day I reached out for help for my depression. And now I have a referral to a neurologist. I see him in early december. And he’s going to want to scan my brain. What if he finds something? What if my moms tumor, her brain cancer, is genetic or hereditary? There’s no science on her type that says its not. Patients don’t typically live long enough to get that kind of data. She made it six months from her biopsy. 9 months from initial symptoms. St Patrick’s day 2006.
I can’t help but wonder if that feeling I’ve always had-that I would be the one in the family to face the health crisis-was bang on. I wonder if the Reason everything is falling apart in regards to my health, is because there’s something more happening inside.
Now I sound like a hypochondriac.
Every twinge in my brain makes me paranoid. The very idea that a simple “migraine” warranted a neurological work up is unnerving to say the least. I don’t want to Know. i don’t want to put people through that. if i go, i want to go fast, and with the least impact on my kids. if I’m 29 or 99, thats all i ask. but I’m getting ahead of myself. they’re just being cautious right? and the short wait time to get in to see the dr is luck right? It’s all going to be ok.

Right?

Changing your train of thought

Part of my talk therapy goal-list (yep, I’m a list girl-surprised? Really?) is to re-train my thought process. Instead of “ugh I had to tell him AGAIN to turn off his phone and come play with me and the kids” my counselor is going to help me learn to think “he is turning off his phone, I’m glad he listened and is now playing with us”.
She wants to show me how to re-train my brain to not focus on the negative.
Which brings me to why today is not a good day.
I woke up sneezing, as in out of control allergies-driving me batty-sneezing. It pissed. Me. Off. Silly when written out how ridiculous it sounds to be upset by something so seemingly minor.
Then my sweet five year old snuggler came into bed. It was still dark, dad had just gone to work. All was quiet. And out of the dark I heard “mommy, I want to tell you about my bad day yesterday”. If that doesn’t wake a mom up I don’t know what would. Something told me he wasn’t just talking about a rough day.
Turns out he’s being bullied. Again. Why is this sweet kind happy rambunctious kid always a target? What did I do wrong? Did I not equip him for life well enough? Are the qualities we hold in high regard as adults making him vulnerable as a kid? Why don’t these kids see the consequences of their actions? I just want to scream. My mama bear instinct wants to go roundhouse the kids parents. A little Chuck Norris might do them some good.
Part of retraining my brain is to focus on the good. I’ve been sure to tell him, and myself, that he is a good boy, a sweet kid, and that this will change. It’s not something to be bogged down with. I will refocus my own desire to just cry about the situation, and turn to fighting for my boy.
I just can’t believe this happens already. I just can’t wrap my head around it.

Hear me

How am I supposed to feel normal when my “safe place” isn’t safe? I’m not listened to, taken seriously, I’m not heard. I want him to hear me when I tell him little things, or normal things, so I can trust him enough to tell him the big things.
I feel brushed aside in so many ways, it just deepens the sadness. It hardens me, so I get angry. And then we fight. And the cycle begins again.
How do I make him hear me?

Vicious cycles

My daughter puked last night. I knew it was coming-I just knew it-she smelled funny earlier. Sour almost. Anyway, watching my husband run around like a chicken with his head cut off should have been funny, but all I could do was keep from smacking him. Just grab the damn bowl! Honestly. I don’t know many men who can handle the things the come out of kids, but I sure wish the guy who can handle guns could handle bloodily fluids.
We had an argument last night, I tried not to, but bringing up anything with discussing is always met with resistance and he knows how to piss me off and he does. So it becomes a fight. We can both predict with almost 100% accuracy how each “conversation” (read: epic verbal onslaught) is going to go. It never ends well, and we know it. He chooses not to talk at all, and I talk it to death.
We need to learn how to communicate. I don’t know how much of my depression is from the failing of my marriage or if the marriage problems stem from depression, or if its all linked like a tumor weaving its tentacles into every aspect of our lives.
He left this morning and I felt awful. He’s only off to work, and has probably forgotten all about it (compartmentalism is a quality he has that i wish I had) but all I want to do is cry. I feel terrible (even if I think I’m right-and I am) and guilty and it is consuming my morning more than it should and that is SO annoying!!!
Why do I feel guilt? Over everything?? I was sick, I felt bad for laying down. Seriously-ten minutes of my day when dad got home and mom couldn’t manage to stay down more than ten minutes. He doesn’t impose that guilt on me-in my head I know that. So why do I feel it? Daddy issues? Mommy issues? Am I really that bat-shit crazy? Ugh the independent woman in me is struggling today. Newly out of work, the cold season is coming, and recently admitted to being a HAWT MESS, makes everything topsy turvy. And I need my eyebrows done. Badly. That kind of tips the scales in my world. Trying to learn how to not sweat the small stuff (I remember that from the last time I was here) so I can focus on the big stuff. It’s a work in progress.

That old familiar feeling

“It’s funny how that old familiar feeling we so easily slip back into isn’t always a good one. Comfort doesn’t necessarily mean safety, or positivity, or health-it’s just easy.”

Usually when someone thinks of a familiar feeling, they’re stuck in the middle of a country love song. Arms being wrapped around you, sweet feelings of romance blah blah blah. Normally I love these songs. Not so much lately. MY old familiar feeling is darker than that. It’s sadder than that. It certainly seems to be doing more damage. My poor kids. How awful to realize your quiet demon is hurting your babies. The slow detachment from your life-and the things you love the most-is suddenly brought into focus in yet another harsh moment when you could have used kindness, but instead got mad. I never wanted to be a “yeller”. I didn’t want to be a crier either. But I spend more nights than is comfortably admitted drowning out my sobs while the bath water runs and when the tub is full crying so hard no air comes out. this is no life for me. For anyone. I want more. I have been responsible for a good portion of the deterioration of my marriage, the reactions in my children, and I am fully responsible for my physical well being and the lack of care for it.
Tomorrow I’m asking for help. Again. But they will listen this time. I will make myself heard. I want to be better more than I want this black hole I’m in. The tug of war going on inside me is exhausting.
One of the smartest women i know once posted something about how you should never assume the smile you see isn’t hiding a battle going on inside. You don’t know what’s going on behind people’s eyes. We are masters of our disguises. Please find some compassion for the person on the street who greets you, and says hello or smiles and nods your way. It could have taken a lot of effort, and you could be the one who shows them there is life on this planet after all.
My mom had cancer and an episode I had this weekend that ended me in the ER rings eerily true to hers. Off I go tomorrow to rule out what my family is so scared of. I know I don’t have a brain tumor. I just need to prove to them. History won’t repeat here. Not in my body-not in my life.

Sometimes you just can’t win

My son has been going through some stuff. We are pretty sure now that he has developed his issues as a result of a passing of his great uncle. He was a regular fixture in his life. We are taking the steps we need to take to get a handle on it. I’ve spoken to his teachers, I’ve contacted a professional, I’ve used the tools she gave me to manage. He succeeds is school and plays with his father. But he is just aim awful to me. And all I can think of is why?? What am I doing wrong? How am I failing this badly? I’m informed, educated, enlightened to the task of handling a high anxiety child. I’m versed in childhood PTSD, trauma based regression, and every other short term or long term condition that comes out of a deployment. But apparently horribly inept and incapable of fixing a sad little boy.
He kicked me at school today. Seriously!! I’ve never ever seen that kind of stuff out of him!
Yesterday was his classes’ mothers day party. His half-participation was normal, but when all the mommies sat down to see their gifts, he wouldn’t talk to me. When asked what he did that day, or even prodded for details, he gives the standard one word answers. “fine. Nothing. Yes. No.” he’s four. Why is it so hard?! And this is going to sound horrible. Truly. I feel slighted. Like part of the perks of being a mom was to have adoring children, massive amounts of artwork, and class parties. I had pictured our special day so differently. And I am so disappointed. It’s not right, and I regret it as soon as I think it, but I am.
I’m trying to cut myself some slack when I lose it. Or yell, or wish I was anywhere but here, but the guilt is overwhelming. I am drowning in this. I don’t know how to hold on. But I can’t give up, because if I do, he will. And he deserves so much more than the lot he has right now.
Just so tired.

Right before my eyes

Is been a crazy few weeks. Realizing just how momentous it had been is only now sinking in. Quite frankly, I’m teetering on a ten-years-too-early mental breakdown. And there’s absolutely no reason for it except that I am ill-equipped to process change at more than a snails pace. Silly isn’t it?
My sweet girl-my two year old force of nature-has accomplished so much. In three weeks she has surpassed all expectations for growth, development, and goals. Whatever was ‘paused’ inside her tiny little body, has seemingly rebooted and continued on its course to normal. Hers doctors agree that we will never know what happened, what caused her body to do what it did, but I don’t need answers. So long as progress is made I’m a happy mama. In the last three weeks she has grown a clothing size, a shoe size, her shirts are tighter going over her head. Her language and physical development have rocketed to a typical range, and in some ways, much further past. She’s potty training on her own accord, sleeping in a big bed on her own accord, and continuously blowing my mind. I am dripping in pride. In relief. I can sleep, I can leave the house, without worry. I don’t take notes anymore, no more food journals and poop diaries.
Right before my eyes this sweet tiny little thing, 22 pounds of awesome, is blossoming into the perfect petite little firecracker she was meant to be.
I love that child so much it hurts. She is Amazing.