Therapy

It's no big secret that I started therapy a couple of weeks ago.  My PPD/PPA was getting out of hand again, and while the medication helps, it isn't enough.  I needed someone to talk to.  Someone with professional, therapeutic input.

So, I called my OB's office and asked for a referral.  I got a call an hour later with three names.  I called the first one on the list, and scheduled an appointment for the same day.  I immediately felt comfortable with her, and knowing that our conversations a) affected her in no way at all and b) are completely confidential, allowed me to open up to her and admit things I hadn't even admitted to myself.  I have had three one-hour sessions with her, and already, we have talked about my insecurities, my fears, my needs, my wants, my self-judgement, my certainty that others judge me, my worries, my hopes, my disappointments, my dreams.  Each week, I leave her office, I feel lighter, more confident, and calmer.  I know this could (and probably will) be a long road.  But it is a journey that I am willing and happy to make.

I tell you all this because I was afraid of therapy.  Afraid that it would mean I really am 'crazy'.  That people and society would judge me, or label me, or simply pity me.  I had to get past all of that to get to where I am.  But it has been worth it.

If you are struggling, or just need someone to talk to, please, please tell someone.  You are not weak.  You are not crazy.  You are not pitiable.  You are human.  Please, be okay with that, and come to terms with it.  Because without that, your struggles may continue indefinitely.  And no one deserves that.

Hello, my name is Tabitha and I am in therapy for post-partum depression and anxiety.

Friday Photos

And a video:

Just Call Me Frumpy

So, apparently, there's some sort of debate going on the mom-blogging world about this post.  Basically, she's explaining why she chooses not to be a "dirty mom".  You know the stereotype - like Lynette on early seasons of Desperate Housewives, this is the mom whose greasy hair is hiding under a hat, and whose sweatshirt and jeans are stained with God only knows what.  She looks tired, frazzled, and, well, a bit. . . frumpy.

May I present Exhibit A:

Ignore the dorky, self-conscious smile.  Instead, note the sweatshirt, and the messy (uncombed) hair hidden under a hat.  If I had taken a better picture, you'd see the brown stains on the sweatshirt, and the who-knows-what on my jeans.  Oh, and my legs?  Are ridiculously hairy.  Because it's winter, so :p
Actually, don't ignore the dorky smile, because it's very important.  You see, I'm happy this way.  I'm comfortable.  I can crawl around on the floor crashing cars with Miles.  I can go downstairs and work on craft projects.  I can clean the kitchen, or deal with a blow-out diaper, or add some grass stains while playing soccer with my son.  Whatever my crazy-busy, upside-down world throws at me, I can deal.  Without having to change clothes.

And if that makes me 'frumpy', then so be it.  I have better things to worry about.

Lent

Ten years ago, when I heard this word, I thought instantly of the kids in my class who would give up soda or candy for 40 days, hoping in some way it would draw them closer to God.

Five years ago, I went through RCIA with the Catholic church and learned that the idea of Lent was to better yourself in some way.  To do something, or sacrifice something, that renewed your relationship with God.  That even a small sacrifice in our modern, instant-gratification world can be a powerful reminder of how very blessed we are.

And, while the Catholic Church and I don't always agree, and definitely don't see eye to eye on many issues, I kinda got where they were coming from.  Still, I don't think that soda or candy is going to impact me (personally) in a big enough way to really matter.  Those things are material, and the material is not all that important, in the great scheme of things.  So, instead, I chose to do something extra.

In years past, I have always linked my Lenten 'resolution' with my New Year's Resolution.  In 2009, when I was practicing "Be Nice", I spent Lent focusing on going out of my way to be nice - rather than simply keeping my mouth shut when I wanted to gripe, I would speak up to say something nice, instead.

This year, my New Year's resolution was simply to Be Healthier.  And with that in mind, my Lenten resolution is to work on my spiritual health.  To try to renew that relationship I have with my God.  To trust.  To try to open up to the experiences and opportunities that crop up.  To spend time each day, simply being quiet.  To learn, and love, and trust.

Kids Say the Darnedest Things

The conversation at bedtime last night:

Me: Miles, you need to lay down.  Time for nigh-night
Miles: Uh-uh
[Repeat times a million]
Me: Miles, what's wrong?
Miles: [jibberish, repeated incessantly until we finally decipher it]
Me: Friday night?
Miles: Yesh.  Iss Fri-ay nigh.
Me: Yes, it is Friday night.  You're right.
Miles: I tay up.
Me: No, it's time for night-night.  No staying up.
Miles: [exasperated] Iss Fri-ay nigh.  I 'tay up!
Me: [collapse in silent giggles]
Patrick: Alright, Miles, Mommy has to go downstairs.  Tell her good-night.

Balance

When I was in high school, I was introduced to yoga for the first time, through a leadership workshop.  Mostly, it was about breathing, and slowing down, in an effort to clear the mind.  Over the years, I have used those few breathing exercises regularly, and they have often helped when I felt overwhelmed.

With my resolution to be healthier in 2012, I did something I never thought I'd do: I joined a gym.  Well, technically, it's a community center, but it's a very fitness-focused place.  I've spent time on the treadmill and the stationary bike, trying to boost my endurance, tired of feeling breathless when I walk.  I've splashed in the pool with my son, teaching him that water is not something to fear (which is a feat, considering that I am terrified of drowning).  I have spent hours, already, warming in the hot tub, and playing with Miles in the children's area.

Better still, I have started taking yoga classes, something I have wanted to do since that first introduction in high school.

I love the focus on balance.  On clearing your mind, and focusing only on making the body work better.  There are poses that stretch my muscles, and poses that build strength.  Mostly, though, yoga is about balance - physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.  There are no extreme views.  No shouting drill sergeant.  No shame or judgement.  Only a quiet, relaxed movement toward balance.

As I struggle with my anxiety again, I find myself turning again and again to the ideas that first attracted me to yoga.  Peace.  Confidence.  Non-judgement.  Balance.

And I know that it will come, if I can find the strength to work for it.

Daily Schedule - 28 months old

7:45 - Miles wakes up, screaming "Mooooom-moooom! Come!"  I drag myself out of bed to help him before he tears down the door.  Breakfast immediately, to the sound of screaming or whining, depending on his mood.
8:00 - Turn on television to PBS for Super Why.  I finally get to use the bathroom and brush my teeth.
8:30 - Get Miles dressed, ready for the day.  He fights every step.
9:15 - Get everything else ready for the day, including me.
9:30 - Out the door to do something - go to the gym, playground, whatever to wear him out.  If I am done fighting him, we put in a movie.
11:00 - Home, lunch, quiet playtime in his bedroom.
12:00ish - Nap.  Usually for both of us.
2:00ish - Get up, snack, try to find something to keep him busy for the rest of the afternoon.  Art projects, playing swords, putting together train tracks, building with legos, etc.
5:00ish - Begin getting dinner ready.  I usually have to turn the television on to accomplish this.
5:45ish - Shovel in dinner before Miles starts screaming and whining because he wants us to play with him.
6:00 - 8:30 - Patrick, Stacey, and I tag-team Miles, trying to keep him busy.
8:30ish - Begin bedtime prep.  Bath, if necessary.
9:00ish - Bedtime.
9:45 - Miles is finally asleep enough for me to relax.  I turn on HGTV and crochet, trying to regain sanity.
11:00ish - Go to bed.  Toss and turn for 1-3 hours (or more) before finally falling asleep.  Have weird dreams all night that prevent a truly refreshing rest.
Repeat. Ad Nauseum.

Lost.

I have had writer's block lately.  Like a wall, blocking my thoughts from flowing as they usually do.  And part of the reason is that I haven't written about the one major thing that's happening in my life.  And until I get this out, nothing else will come, so bear with me.

I haven't spoken to my father since before Thanksgiving.

There was a lot of family drama that I won't go into, for sake of his privacy and my own.  But, suffice it to say that there are some issues that had been building for awhile that finally bubbled over.

The whole darn thing is so very convoluted and crazy.  I drew a line, it was crossed.  Miscommunications happened.  Things were assumed, on both sides, that weren't exactly true.  Feelings were hurt.  Images damaged.

And now, I feel cut off from my grandfather, because my father lives with him.  And being a good father, Grandpa is taking his son's side.  I don't like it, but I understand it.

To complicate matters further, my sister is pregnant with her first child.  As her big sister, I should be planning her baby shower, but how do I do that without some major changes?  Changes that would force me to give in, when I'm not certain I should.

I'm lost, wondering how to make these decisions.  How to determine the correct course of action, and doing so with love and compassion.

It is the cause of my insomnia, and the primary reason I feel my anxiety building again, though it had been so very well controlled.  It haunts my dreams, and niggles at my thoughts throughout the day.  The weak part of me repeating, constantly, that I am the cause.  That I just need to back down.  That it would be so much easier to just give in and play the dutiful daughter as I always have.

But, in my soul, I know that I have to protect myself and my family.  I am not the sole cause of all troubles in my family.  I cannot fix them alone.  That backing down will prove nothing, except that I will allow myself and my family to be walked on.  That being the responsible wife and mother trumps dutiful daughter any day.

So, I continue, half here, and half lost in thought, trying desperately to find a solution that will please everyone.  Unable to find it, and unable to let go of it.  Sinking further into myself, despite my every effort to be present.

I am lost.  And so very sad, and hurt, and frustrated, and angry.

Lost.

Battles & Blessings

It's been too long since I've done one of these.  And there were definitely lots of both this week.

Battles:

• Damn two-year molars.  How I hate thee.  Why could you not have all come in at the same time?  No, you have to drag it out, and now Miles mouth is hurting so badly he can hardly chew.  Again.
• Serious lack of motivation.  Thus the lack of blogging.  Or housecleaning.  Or anything productive.  Basically, I have increased the size of my posterior this week, and that's about it.
• Grey, dreary days that make me want to stay in bed.
• Insomnia.  It sucks.  Sleep, I love you.  Why do you elude me so?

Blessings:

• During the past few days, when the molars have been wreaking havoc on the poor kid's mouth, Miles has been incredibly cuddly.  We spent all day Friday cuddled in my chair watching movies and snacking on popcorn.
• Patrick has been incredibly helpful in taking over parenting duties when my body finally decides it's going to drop off to sleep.  In the middle of a game of tent with the toddler.  Seriously, one minute we're playing, the next I am out cold.  Weird.
• At least there has been plenty to entertain me through my lack of motivation.  Television, internet, and Bejeweled, how I love thee.
• Warm, spring-like weather early in the week led to lots of time playing outside.  Which led to nice long naps for Miles.  Always awesome.
• Inspiration.  At least my insomnia is allowing weird late-night visits from the Muses.  I'll take it.
• Our cat, Nikko, has finally accepted Miles.  It only took two years, but she will now actually approach him to be petted, rather than running from the room every time he enters.  Yay!

Groundhog's Day

Remember that oh-so-cheesy 90's movie Groundhog's Day?  The one where Bill Murray repeats the same day over and over again.

Yeah, I've been feeling that lately.

Get up, get screamed at by two-year-old, make breakfast, chug coffee, Super Why, play on the bed, play in the room, snack, play on the bed, play in the room, lunch, nap, repeat.  Every day.

And, like Bill,* I keep trying to do things a little differently each day, trying to switch it up a tad, but in the end, I'm still stuck in a rut.  I miss working, and having a place where I am needed to do more than simply watch someone play with trains.**  I've taken on myriad crafts lately, but indulging in them while Miles is awake never ends well.  I do laundry (goodness, the endlessness of laundry).  I clean the kitchen (goodness, the endlessness of dirty dishes).  I pick up toys (goodness, the. . . you get the idea).  Day in and day out, waiting for a change.

Anyone else feeling the rut?  What do you do to change things up?

*Don't you just love how Bill and I are on a first name basis.  Yeah.  We're like this.  (Where this is two people who have never met.)

**If I try to play with him, I get a sharp, firm, "Uh-uh, 'top it, Mom-mom."