You’ve got to keep on moving.

by statia on September 13, 2012

I got an email from a friend this morning.  Asking me how I keep it together, as she knows I went through a tough time last year.

If I seem like I bounced back and seem composed all the time, far be it from me to pull the wool over your eyes.  That isn’t to say I’m not feeling better, I am, but it’s actual mental work on a daily basis.  I’m sure it’s mental work for anyone on a daily basis, but suffering from anxiety with two small kids sometimes feels like scaling a mountain.  Maybe it’s harder for others, maybe it’s easy, but this is MY mountain and I’ll get anxious if I want to.

Generally, I will full on admit, I’m a hot mess.  I don’t really hide it.  My friends know I suffer from anxiety.  It isn’t something I go on bragging about, but when I flake on something, it’s easier to laugh at myself and make the joke first.  Like, “Oh, dude, I’m so fucking ADD, I totally forgot again. FRIEND FAIL!” Whether or not it’s annoying, who knows. Maybe my problems are “White People Problems.”  But opening up about them makes them real, and easier to deal with.  And here’s how I deal.

1.Meds: I think everyone and their dog is on some sort of medication these days.  Medication has become the new norm. Either society is becoming vastly more fucked up as each generation goes, and genes are becoming more damaged, or we’re just more aware and able to “fix” whatever the problem is.  I don’t love this. I’ve said it many times, the meds are like a necessary evil.  And even though I’m on them, I don’t always agree.

2.Routine: Having two kids in two years, I just gave up on myself, and working out, or anything of the sort.  The fact that the Mini had developmental delays on top of that didn’t really help. A lot of my time was spent either having therapists over for appointments, or shuffling him to and from, and then school started.  Now that they’re both in school (albeit opposite schedules this year, and I’ll delve into how THAT’S going another time, because me and PM kindergarten are having a tiff right now, and no BJ’s for PM kindergarten anytime soon /frigid bitch), I made it a point to put me time in there.  I either go to the gym, or get out and ride my bike.  It has been YEARS since I was on my bike before this summer, and I had forgotten how in love with riding I am. It’s helped my mental state more than it’s helped me to get in shape.  The getting in shape part is the added bonus, really. I now need less medication and I find that working out has become such an intergal part of my life and routine, that I can’t go a day without doing something active. I feel out of sorts and cagey when I don’t do something. That simple hour – hour and a half is amazing. I know working out is hard to get started. People think of going to the gym, or doing something and it’s daunting and overwhelming. But even something as simple as starting out with a nice walk can do wonders for your mental health.

3. Therapy: Seriously, lots and lots of therapy.  After my stint in the hospital, I fought tooth and nail to get into an out patient program. Two weeks of 9-3 sessions were so exhausting, but they gave me this feeling of accomplishment and hope.  I felt that I could do anything. I still see a therapist once a week. She’s amazing and I love what she’s done for me.  That said, therapy is something you have to be ready for, and you have to embrace it whole heartedly. I’ve had many failed attempts at therapy. Either a bad therapist, or just that I wasn’t really opening myself up. I wasn’t facing what was going on in my life truthfully.

4. Humor: Yeah, I know, right? But my sarcasm isn’t only a fight or flight tool, it helps me to see deal with the small things, like my children being on my last nerve, or the Meester saying one more eye-rolling ridiculous thing. When you feel like shit, it’s hard to roll with it.

That said, my days are still so hard to get through.  I have mental moments every.single.day. I feel guilty that my kids are suffering when I snap over something. While I’m now learning to catch myself, and use “self talk,” it’s not a perfect thing.  What mom hasn’t flipped her lid over hearing “Momomomomomomomomomomomomomom,” one too many times?  My worst time is getting out of the house. I am super agitated when I’m running late, and my “anxious fits” upset the Mini.  All he wants is for me to be Happy Mama again. And that’s another thing that snaps me back.  He’s actually started to tell me to “take a chill pill, Mom.” Maybe that sounds like he’s being snarky and a smart mouth, but he isn’t. He’ll tell me to “go upstairs and get yourself together.” Wise words from a five year-old. It’s his way of saying “Hey, stop being such a cranky asshole.”

I’m learning to let go, and not feel guilty for every little thing I do “wrong.” I’m learning that an extra hour of television one day, or 30 more minutes of DS time isn’t the end of the world, if it means that I’m able to get that extra time to decompress. I know that I can’t ever stop being anxious, but the funny thing about my kids journeys, is that its a road paved with self discovery.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

Fighting the wormhole.

by statia on September 6, 2012

It started kind of like this:

Well, wait, more like this: My anxiety has started to manifest itself in different ways. It’s definitely better. Overall, I feel less anxious about certain things. But, like anything, I don’t know if I can avoid it completely. So, there are times when I ruminate about things. But my ruminations are about big things that are beyond my control. For the most part, I can stop myself and put it out of my mind. I’m anxious about my parenting. I still feel very clouded, and less present than I would like to be. And that’s how it started:

The internet is ruining our lives, I thought. All of this mindless bullshit that just takes the focus off of what’s important. Information overload, and I can’t manage to pull my attention away from it. I wonder what it would be like to live without the internet for a year? I wonder if that’s been done?

Well, of course its been done. The internet being what it is, it seems that on a daily basis, we’re assulted with yet another viral video of something, but most people, giving up the internet, still don’t manage to write about it on a regular basis. So my search led me to Paul Miller. But as he’s nearing the halfway mark of his project, you’ve probably heard of him five months ago. But the thought of doing something along these lines left me giddy.  And then you stop and think about the magnitude of something like this in the digital age. It’s nearly impossible. Technically, I don’t know if I can avoid it entirely, but I can probably limit it to the point of what’s basic necessity. Email, maybe downloading books on my kindle. As it stands now, I don’t really fire up my laptop unless the kids are forced into quiet time by watching something on TV. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not sneaking time on my iPad, or checking facebook on my phone.  I recently decided to sell my iMac, because really, all I was using it for was a glorified internet portal.

All of this makes me realize how disjointed and clouded my mind is. I wonder how much withdrawal comes with something of this magnitude.  I wonder if my family can survive a no internet challenge.

And just as I was finishing this up, the Mini snuck into our room.  I felt his hand, but failed to even realize it was him.

Operation Internet Addicts – no-so-Anonymous is beginning.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

Making Memories

by statia on August 29, 2012

With the Mini’s language starting so rote, It took us what seemed like forever to have pragmatic conversation.  Old habits die hard however, and he sometimes reverts to echolalia when he’s processing something we’ve told him.  It gives his brain that extra few seconds to hear what we’ve said, and repeating it cements the words, so that he can answer appropriately.  Obviously, throw in the fact that he’s a five year-old boy. They don’t have the best attention span to begin with.

Our bedtime ritual has been pretty consistent since birth.  Bath, quiet time, stories, and then we lay with each of them.  Taking turns.  I love it, but it gets really old, because it takes us a good hour for bed time, and now there’s “can I have a glass of water?” and other such tactics to stall the process.  Normal normal normal.

Every night, the Mini will ask me the same thing.  ”So, what did ya do today?” A rote phrase that I’ve tried to redirect and get him to ask other things.  Sometimes he’ll ask a few times, and I get a little annoyed.  I’m not proud of that. Now, however, it’s become “our thing.”  A running joke. Now we laugh about it, and scramble to get to bed first so we can beat the other one at asking.  And you can’t ask until you’re laying in bed.  It’s the rules.  We’re like Jack in Mr. Mom, during the boss’s race.  Tripping each other. Grabbing shirts.  I’ve even done a full on fly through the air to land on the bed first….”SO WHAT DIIIIIID YOUUUUUUUUUU DOOOOOOO TODAAAAyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?” And then we erupt into fits of laughter.  I love these silly little things that I can look back on and remember.  I do it often with each stage.

Last night, he woke up after I had gotten back from a girls night out.  For whatever reason, peeing in our bathroom was easier than going the one door over to their bathroom.  He asked me to lay with him, half asleep.  I follow him back to his room, and as he climbs into bed, he laughs and say softly “So, what did ya do today.”  And we laughed and then he fell back to sleep.

He was super proud of himself this morning for pulling one over on me.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

Step on a crack and break your mother’s back

by statia on August 27, 2012

I would just like to know where the hell the last five years went.  Because today, I put my precious little baby on the big giant school bus.  He got on like a champ. He didn’t even break a sweat. And then?  Then he went to KINDERGARTEN!!!

Our district is only a measly half day (two hours and forty minutes to be exact. A step down from the full day pre-school last year). Up until this morning, I would have gladly asked the bus to slow to a roll, while I chucked him on. I wasn’t upset. I had brief moments of anxiety, but mostly? I’m selfish and FREEEEEEEEEEEEEDOM (semi-freedom, anyway). I’m so close to being able to just do endless amounts of shopping in my pajamas.

But the minute that kid got on the bus and sat down. The minute I couldn’t see his little blonde head through the window, I may have cried a little bit.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

If you like Pina Coladas…

by statia on August 17, 2012

“Have you talked to BFF lately?”

“Why don’t you just call her?”

One of the things about my nervous breakdown, everything lead up to it, and following it, was my BFF. I haven’t discussed much of it here.  But my breakdown affected her.  I mean, having the close relationship that we had.  She was and still is, my second sister. She is every bit as loud and quirky as I am. And I love it.

And I lost that.

After I ended up in the hospital, she distanced herself. It was hard for me. Generally, when you have a friendship like ours, there are still things that you might not discuss, but with her, I could call her if I was taking a shit, and I needed some coaching getting through it. I mean, I didn’t, but it was implied.  And I had never had that type of friendship before.  I’ve had good friends, this was just, different.

I mean, listen, I’m a pretty guarded person, and while I’m social, it takes me time to warm up to people.  Perhaps this is why I’ve always loved blogging.  I get to know someone on a different level before I have to meet them, or open myself up. I can keep it as superficial as I like. Because it’s so much easier to just give a LOLZ and a :o ).  And if I have accepted you into my inner circle, I will call you an asshole. It’s just what I do. It’s a term of endearment for me. If you are an asshole, nay, if you are MY ASSHOLE, I love you.

Err. You know what I mean.

So when she started to distance herself from me, and things started to get weird, I was distraught, even despite our conversations about space, I understood. If you love someone, set them free.  But I’ll tell you, I hated not talking to her on a daily basis.  I hated not being able to call her up and tell her I was wearing my Tuesday underwear on Thursday. No one else would call me a fucker in a classy restaurant because I got gelato in her chocolate.  And I felt horrible. I felt guilty, because what if I took too much? Was I expecting too much from a friend?  To me, my true friends ARE my family. But I wanted to look back in 30 years and say “Do you remember when…?”  Just like I have with other “family” and also family.

Tonight we went out.  It was the first time we had gone out, just the two of us in 8 months. Probably longer. I wanted so badly to talk to her. It never really happened. When we hung out, it was weird. Kids, being perceptive creatures they are, would hang on us constantly, afraid to miss something.  They KNEW.

It was almost like old times.  Except both of us knew. That conversation was looming. I was just about to say something, finally working up the courage, and she says: I don’t want to be a bummer, but…

And we had that conversation. It was long. But long overdue. And while I’m not sure if things are the same, they feel better than they have in a long time. For the first time I feel like tomorrow I can call her and tell her about how I forgot to wear underwear. Again.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

Second Verse…sort of.

by statia on August 13, 2012

LG is sick again. We had a very brief hiatus of illness over the summer. By brief, I mean that she had very minor colds over the summer, but not eliminated completely. We’re barely into August and she gets another horrible chest cold. To which I say, “can’t we just fucking at least make it until September?” I mean seriously already.

My sister had a baby at the end of June. She was born prematurely, with some complications. She’s fine and that’s really all I’ll say on the situation since it’s not really my story to tell. But I can’t tell you how excited I am that I’m an aunt for the first time, even though my sister is still in Japan and it kills me that plane tickets are far too expensive for me to afford to go see her.

But as we talk on a near daily basis, her emotions running crazy due to the situation and also hormones, she told me how she was jealous that I had my babies healthy, and full term. Not an abnormal reaction and one that I get fully. Being that we’re both anxiety ridden, I told her that obviously no one has it easy, and my kids have had their issues.  The Mini with his developmental delay, LG constantly being sick. The allergies, the asthma. RSV, ear infections. You tend to feel as if you’re being dealt some sort of shitty hand, all while knowing that you have it so much better than others and how can you justify that?  She has become a mother and now she gets my crazy. Her anxiety has shifted to constantly worrying about her daughter and being torn between wanting to be a laid back parent, or wrapping her in bubble wrap. It’s her job now.

The Mini’s occupational therapist, who is one of the most brilliant people I know, asked me how things were going with LG. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about her developmentally. I had her evaluated at 6 months, just for my own sanity. She was early or on target for just about everything. While she’s maintained her average status as a kid, there are…things that we’ve noticed. She can’t sit still (beyond the toddler norms). She doesn’t seem to care about discipline. She doesn’t listen. She sounds like a typical three-year-old. I know. All things aside, she is pretty typical. She loves unicorns and ponies. Rainbows and cats. Her favorite colors are pink and purple. And god forbid if you don’t know any of that.

And while I’ve felt OK with her, where development is concerned, more so than the Mini, at any given time, there’s still a nagging feeling about some things that she should be getting by now. And I owe it to her to do as much for her, as I have for him. As much as she needs. And so we’ve set up to have her evaluated for ADHD.

As I sat there tonight, holding her now giant three year-old body in my lap while giving her a nebulizer treatment, I was hit with this exact memory of her as a baby. Struggling to catch her breath while coughing uncontrollably, I thought about my sister’s words: “I just want to get past this part of my life so that we can start living a normal life.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her that with kids, it’s always something.  I’m still waiting to put off of this behind so that I can begin my own normal life.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

(B)Lame.

by statia on July 26, 2012

Seriously, I don’t know what the hell is up with me this summer but, lazy is my middle name. I’ve got ZERO motivation, for anything in regards to my house. I’d blame it on being busy, which is true, summer feels like a ride on the insane express. But I don’t even have the motivation for the shit that needs to be done. Laundry is getting done, but there are times when it will sit in the dryer for three days. The kitchen is getting the bare minimum. My car has had sand on the floor and a jar of change rolling around in the back seat since we went on vacation a month and a half ago.

I guess when I make the decision to cut back on projects, my perfectionist nature really steps up to the plate. Another part of it is lack of focus. I can’t really accomplish any sort of task. I’m overwhelmed.

But, I’ve somehow made it a priority to work out 6 days a week. So, it’s not laziness.

I could find a million things to blame it on, but truthfully, blogging, after ten years, feels like a chore. Not even a pressing chore. I feel like I have no idea what to write about anymore.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

Filling Space

by statia on July 13, 2012

I’m going to start this post out, the same, lame way I’ve started every other post I’ve written, when I haven’t written in awhile:

  • Oh HI! Does anyone still read this?
  • I forgot this space existed for the last month
  • I’ve been super busy (Jesus, lady, get in line, aren’t we all?)
  • I know you’re so super interested in knowing where I was and what I was doing.  Because I am THAT VAIN.
  • Every time I try and write something, it sounds like a mundane list of my life
  • I was kidnapped by a roving group of pixies.

Whichever one sounds best to you, use that. All of them are pretty much true. Also, besides the busy aspect, there’s the ADD, and what? Sparkly? It’s all just recycled garbage.

I swear I haven’t just taken an Ambien.

Anyway, real quick like, Gromit is still with us. He’s slowing down much more now, and is getting clingy, but not once has he complained. And he still eats like a typical lab. We’re lucky that we’re getting this extra time with him. But it’s breaking my heart to think about how limited that time is. But, moving on.

The not-so-Mini, has reached the age where I can’t really lie to him anymore. You know those white lies we’ve earned as parents. The ones we answer to the mindless stream of questions, from sun up to sun down:

“Mom, where are we going?” – Crazy, Want to come? 

“How much longer are we going to be in the car?” 3 days. 

“No, really, Mom, how much longer?” Ok, really, it’s 2.5 days.

“Do you remember when we went to Target?” What’s Target?

“Is my junk really going to fall off?” YES! 

And it goes on and on. It’s nice, because now he knows when I’m joking, which is something “Spectrum” people have a hard time with. But it’s a fine line, this whole “typical” thing. Last week we finally went out on a much needed date night, and the Mini asked me where were going:

Me: We’re going to the movies

Him: What are you going to see?

Me: A movie about a teddy bear.

Him: I want to see it too!

Me: It’s an adult movie

Him: Does it have bad words in it?

Me: Yes, it has lots of bad words.

Him: But I want to hear the bad words

Me: I would prefer you didn’t hear bad words.

Him: Why are you afraid I’ll tell my friends?

Me: Yes, and I would also prefer that their parents still want to hang out with us.

Who else am I going to get shit faced with?

 

 

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

The big park in the sky

by statia on June 8, 2012

You guys,  Gromit doesn’t have much longer.  A week (I hope longer) a month? Two? He had toe cancer last year, and because it was localized, just lobbed off the offending dew claw, and life went on.  And we all had a good laugh, because dude, you can’t even get CANCER the right way. You’re just going to live forever and shed in ever single baseboard crevice I own, aren’t you?  But the Meester noticed a lump on his paw again, this time on his paw, rather than a dew claw. Off to the vet he went. They didn’t think it was anything more than a fatty lump, but they’ll scrape and aspirate it just to make sure. Code for “we have to make money somehow.” I figured it was most likely another fatty lump, which dogs are just prone to in old age. We get liver spots, dogs get lumpy. It’s gross. When they said it was cancer again, we had already decided before the results came back that this was it. It’s on his actual foot. He’s 13. Surgery would just tell us how long he has, and he’d most likely lose his foot.  That’s not quality. He’s was an intergal part of my blog early on, before the kids were born. He’s been a champ. Moving several times (and getting so sick of it, that he actually unpacked my dishes once, not breaking a single one), getting divorced, getting re-married. Kids. Through it all, he’s been great. He wasn’t fond of the kids for encroaching on his space and devoted attention, but he’s good with them and now loves their attention. Since we don’t know how long he has, we’ve been spoiling him with various meats, cake balls, and whatever else he wants. Mia is pretty pissed. It’ll be weird not having my deaf, smelly dog around. Like an empty hole.  What’s worse is that we’ve been trying to explain to the kids what’s happening, so that they’re more compassionate and patient with him when he just stops in the middle of the room for no reason, or steps on their legos.  And I don’t want them to come home one day and ask where he is, and have him not be there.  Can I tell you how hard it is to explain to a three and five year-old this whole process of dying? We’re trying to keep it as simple as possible.  ”Gromit is sick, and won’t be around much longer. Soon he’ll go live with Adonis in dog heaven, and he’ll be able to run and play.”

Mini: But Gromit can’t run, his legs are bad!

Me: Yes, but in dog heaven, his health will be restored, and he’ll be able to run and play again.

LG: But I don’t want Gromit to go away!

While LG is still too young to understand the concept of death and dying, she knows that she doesn’t want him to go away forever. I know this is because we’re all creatures of habit. Her family consists of her parents, her brother, and her dogs. It’s a comfort thing. However, the Mini understands the concept and has been obsessed with death for the better part of a year. Not long after he turned four, he developed the anxiety surrounding all things death and dying. It’s been incredibly hard to watch him get upset over knowing there’s mortality and an end to everything. We try to keep it light, but I get it. That fear is so real, and I hate that he gets it so early in life.

And when the time comes for them to say goodbye to Gromit, I’m debating on whether or not to tell them when it’s time, so that they can say their goodbyes beforehand (I won’t be bringing them to the vet, because they’re way too young to handle that). Anyone else deal with this sort of thing at such a young age? What happened to telling kids their beloved pet went to live on a farm and having that be the end of it?

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

It’s been awhile. Let me riot about the new My Little Ponies

by statia on May 24, 2012

Hi.  Yes.  I neglected this space.  Like, you care that my life got so busy.  But you know, end of the school year.  Soccer, swimming, play dates.  Being outside.  All of that same nonsense that everyone has going on.  Also?  PRESCHOOL GRADUATION.  Like, dudes, I think a graduation for 5-year-olds is a bit ridiculous, but you won’t see anyone more proud to watch the little ceremony.  But I will officially have a kindergartener.  Do you realize that this blog is ten years old?  It’s OLDER than my kids.  Combined.

Anyway.  Let’s talk about My Little Ponies.  I loved the MLP’s when I was a kid.  And my 1980′s heart has a beef with the new ones.  So here you go.  I call this, “Fuckin’ Ponies.”

 

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

← Previous Entries

Next Entries →