Back again...

Wow.

Didn't realize it'd been so long since my last post. I keep meaning to write and I (obviously) just never have time. No time for anything.

So. A brief update:

Still having PPD issues. No real change there.
Still sticking to my self imposed lack of interest in anything other than my kids. Doing my best to see that they are happy and if they're happy then I am satisfied. I signed Jaalyn up for a year of ballet and tap dance and I'm attempting to spend more time with the baby. We've forged such a tight bond, that little roly poly rascal and I.

I'm examining my parenting skills a lot more these days. Needs improvement would be an understatement. I see how hard I am on Jaalyn, though I hate to come down on her. She's so intelligent and I suppose because of the way I talk to her and treat her, sometimes I completely forget that she's only 5 years old. She converses and carries herself like an 8 year old, yet when she doesn't do something I've asked (repeatedly) her to do or doesn't do something properly or just doesn't plain get what I'm saying I've been blowing my top. And I had to take a step back and apologize to her. But more about that another day.

AND, I went back to the doctor today. Not my GYN, my regular doctor. I went because I wanted another opinion regarding medication to treat the depression, to hopefully schedule an appointment to get the birth control IUD put in, to get a referral to see a dermatologist since I'm still breaking out and I rather be hit by a truck than seen in public and just an overall health check up.

The results of the visit?

1. Blood pressure sky high to the point the nurse did a double take and a double reading. Doctor also did a double take and said it couldn't be right so she took it twice. Still high, very abnormal for me since I've always had low pressure versus high.



2. Dermatologist referral. Yeah I got the referral and an appointment... for March 2007.



3. I gained 11 pounds since my 6 week postpartum visit.



4. Birth control: in order to get the IUD from my doctor, who does gyn medicine also I have to get a referral to see a different gyn who will then call me in for a "consultation" and then make me come in a second time for the actual IUD once they figure out how to order it. I can't go on the pill because I'm a terrible pill taker plus I'm breastfeeding. I can't go on the patch because I'm fat and it doesn't work anyway.



5. I can't get a prescription for acne because I'm breastfeeding.



6. Despite the fact that I am fat I cannot diet because I'm breastfeeding.



7. So I'm a severely depressed, anxiety filled, panic attack prone mom that also suffers from insomnia that should be on Paxil... except for the fact that I'm breastfeeding. (notice a pattern here) I have a new prescription for Paxil, just in case I should feel that I can no longer competently care for my kids. Otherwise, weighing the benefits of breastfeeding the baby versus me being gloomy, cranky and tired, the baby wins on this one.



8. To remedy all of the above it was suggested that I exercise, preferably outdoors. She laughed at the look I gave her then I explained to her my schedule and asked her when did she think I should exercise. Ever see a Chinese doctor look dumbfounded? Bless her. Thanks to those highly arched brows of hers she already looked perpetually surprised. It was my turn to laugh. She said with all the activity you'd think I would be able to sleep at night. She said no matter. Get the stroller, toss in the baby and drag my oldest outside. We need fresh air and a change of environment. She said even if I just do it on the weekends it would be worth it. In the meantime I need to find time to exercise at home as well.

She may as well tell me to suck up the Atlantic Ocean with a turkey baster.



So pardon me while I go retreat to my kitchen, aka the cleanest place in this dirty house, and weep to the point my eyes swell because I'm a fat, depressed, acne scarred mom with high blood pressure and I could use a good cry dammit.

Hate

I hate my mother.

Maybe hate is too strong a word. I honestly am beginning to think she really dislikes me though. I've never seen any mother treat her child the way she does. It hurts. It makes me angry. But day after day, year after year I deal with it. I used to reach my boiling point, explode in anger and then vow I'd never allow her back into my life again. Then I think, she's my mother. I'm supposed to have her in my life. I look at the people I know that are without there mothers or fathers or both of their parents and I feel chagrined that I do have both my parents and perhaps I just don't appreciate them enough.

And then comes the spiteful barbs from my mother. The snide remarks, degrading comments. Generally speaking to me and about me like I haven't a brain in my head. Constantly undermining my self confidence and self esteem since, well, since I can remember. I know when I was my oldest daughter's age she was already priming me to never think I was pretty because I wasn't. Those were her exact words. Vanity is sin. So I grew up thinking I wasn't pretty and that I was worthless.

You know what?

This isn't even worth typing. I'm so sick of being angry. And hurt. And dejected. What I wouldn't give to just feel like myself again.

I give up, Pt 2

I've often told friends and family members, especially young ones, that if you need to make changes in your life, if there's a lesson you need to learn and you're just not getting it, often you've got to reach rock bottom in order to start making changes in your life. Hitting rock bottom forces you to make those changes.

Consider me at rock bottom.

However, I think that my self confidence and self esteem levels are probably at least 6 feet below that point.

But, I am better than yesterday. Sort of.

Yesterday, I thought "God, is my life even worth living?"

Today my thoughts are "What makes my life worth living?"

Obvious answer would be the girls. They are my lifeline, my all in all, my very reason for breathing and living each day. They inspire hope, bring me waves of emotions consistantly, my literal saving grace.

Right now, this very moment, I sit and I want to give up everything. This is more than postpartum depression, this is a nagging thought that's been plaguing me for years. An admission to failure. To face the bald truth that I've failed in life, in my goals, in everything except being a mother. Somehow I still retain that one redeeming quality. I am a good mother, I know I am. I'm just not a good one right now I don't think. Because of my babies, I can't give up though there's no denying I want to... badly. Selfishness goes out when the door of parenthood opens (well, it should but I know that's not always the case). For me to forsake everything wouldn't be fair to them. It'd be like... like what my mother did to me. She didn't give up, but she rededicated her life to taking care of her needs and ONLY her needs. To this day she's still that way. But. Anyway.

So as I drove back down the interstate this morning I asked myself what makes life worth living, other than the girls? Um, not a goddamned thing? Yeah, I think that's it. Not one damned thing.

You know when I was pregnant with Jaalyn, I think I was about five months pregnant and I hadn't even discovered that she was in fact a girl, I was so depressed and so filled with anguish and despair that I actually found myself on the side of the bed staring at and eventually holding the large, shiny handgun baby daddy kept in his nightstand. I felt the weight of it in my hand, the coolness of it and was so tempted to pull the trigger and end all 23 years of my miserable existance. And then... the baby kicked me. HARD. Harder than she'd ever kicked. And I decided then and there that me ending my life wasn't fair to this child. This child that would probably survive even if I didn't. And the only two people that would be there to raise this child were to two people in my life causing all my misery: my mother and baby daddy. I put down the gun. I stroked my belly and burst into tears. But, once I'd cleaned my face I made changes instantly. I went to my father's job, waited for him to get off work and come out of the building to hug him and tell him I'd see him in a few months; that I was no longer keeping in contact with my mother or him for the remainder of the pregnancy, for my health and sanity and for the baby's health. I started with that first step and I went on from there.

After Jaalyn was born, again I stumbled and fell emotionally but I picked myself back up and what kept me going was my tiny infant that was dependant upon me. She gave me every reason to go on. I no longer mattered; she did. Period.

And here I am again, back to square one mentally and reevaluating my life's purpose. I am going out on a limb here but looking back... I was at my best mentally, spiritually and emotionally when I was alone, with my child. When my sole focus was my child. I think I've been trying too hard to encompass too many things and accomplish too many things. So I'm cutting off all other things and refocusing on my children. They give me pleasure. They provide everything I need on this earth. They do not let me down. They do not abandon me (yet). They love me unconditionally and I am and hopefully always will be number one in their life the same way they are in mine.

I have experienced so much for a reason. I have survived for a purpose.

I have survived molestation.

I have survived rape. Twice.

I have survived seeing my father beat the crap out of my mother, of having him hold a gun point blank in my face and threaten to pull the trigger if I did not move so he could kill my mother. (To this day memories of my mother's cries and screams, the abuse and the arguments haunt my dreams. As recent as this week.)

I have survived an abusive relationship.

I have survived multiple pregnancies, single motherhood, and miscarriage.

I have survived my husband not only abandoning me, but depleting my every financial resource when he did it.

I have survived financial devastation in every conceivable way possible whether it was by literally selling my ass to amatuer porn agencies for photos and videos, by becoming a well paid call girl (fuck, who am I kidding? I was a hooker that simply didn't have to stand on the corner, I took appointments over the phone), or by using my own wits to create a mini Ebay empire to sell every item I owned and every item my ex-husband left behind.

All this and more I have survived.

This too I shall overcome. Just need to regroup, refocus and reenergize.

I give up.

I am so tired. And so very very sad. It's like no matter how hard I try, no matter what I do whether it be finances, school, personal goals, whatever I am thwarted no matter my diligence, my effort or what have you. Just when I think the way is clear, the sky is blue something happens that takes me right back down to the gutter again. I am beyond frustration, beyond tears, beyond depression.

I give up.

The only positive I have left in my life are the girls.

And I'm terrified I will fuck them up too. Just like everything else.

I. Give. Up.

Back to Work

Today is my first day back to work...

Today is Trinity's first day at daycare...

*sob*

I miss my baby.
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Also, not doing so well on the emotional front. Am very... sad. Frustrated. Angry at myself and others. But mainly sad.

sigh...

Thought I had kicked the blues. They came back with reinforcements.