Catching Up

Feels like it's been too long since my last post. I have had so many different ideas for posts between then and now. I'm sure that I won't be able to post them all (I've forgotten some ideas already, I'm sure) so I'll just throw together a variety into a "Catching Up" post and call it good!



How am I doing? 

Not awful and not great. The hubs told my folks that we'll be moving out at the end of the month and I feel like the dynamic has changed a bit. Either way, I was pretty stressed spending more time with my family the last few days. We did have a pretty good time a local fair:

Anxiety levels are up. Garbled speech. Tears at CrossFit. Bickering with the hubs. Suppressed appetite combined with comfort eating. I've been able to cling to an awareness that it's my illness although I'm quite aware that I could easily slip into a dangerous space in a moment's notice. Last night I began feeling like I wanted to wander off down the street to escape stress and I was able to catch the thought and navigate out of that danger zone.



What's new?

September is National Suicide Prevention Awareness month here in the US and I wanted to do something special on my Facebook page. Instead of one special post, I'm going to post several times about suicide prevention. I haven't shared anything specific about my personal story, although I feel like I will at some point.

It's still quite taboo. My first family won't really talk about it. I can talk openly about it with the hubs and my in-laws though. I make it a point to be open with friends and acquaintances about my experiences and where I'm coming from too. I try not to overshare (even when suffering from social anxiety my mouth seems to have a tendency to just keep moving) and I also don't beat around the bush.

Going through what I went through and having felt so lonely and rejected for so many years I feel compelled to act as an advocate. I think it's a part of me that I wasn't quite aware of before, because while breastfeeding I acted as an advocate as well! Hmm... Anyways. Sharing my story has been mostly well received so far. Sometimes there are awkward moments-sure-overall I've had positive experiences.

Also, re-injured my ankle. Still nursing the thoracic outlet syndrome issues too. Frustrating.

That kinesia-whatever tape AIN'T NO JOKE!

Any plans?

I have plans to hang out with a gal from CrossFit and her son (whom BB adores) outside of gym. I'm not only excited to hang out for fun's sake, I'm excited to be practicing my social skills! We've already ventured out after CrossFit a couple times with other moms and kiddos. Even went to a happy hour with some other adults one evening with the hubs. Baby steps :o)

I've also made plans to meet up with a friend up north to go check out a glass pumpkin patch. I'm excited! I suspected that I had wanted to do this for a long time and hadn't been able to (the hubby confirmed this for me) so I'm happy to finally get around to it. I love glass art and I think it'll be a great way to break into fall.

Pending plans also regarding my schooling... I sent in transcripts and am waiting to hear back from an online college whether or not my degree includes all the pre-reqs they want in order to begin my Master's in Teaching-English.



Feel like life's a bit messy right now. Spinning a lot of plates and such. Bit hectic and confusing and feeling out of control, but I'm able to set that aside and let things roll. I'm doing what I can and I don't want to get caught up in the details. One thing at a time. Momentum will keep things going, I don't need to manage each tiny thing!


I hope.... ;o)



Happy September and I hope to do some catching up on other blogs very soon!

One of those "anger release" exercises...

WARNING: EXTREMELY LONG POST!

Seriously, it's really long.

If you have to pee, pee now.

So... I had intended to do a different anger releasing writing project and instead I found myself "gifted" with a new starting point today. I ended up mixing some of my previous complaints with the newer ones. It might be a little confusing-somehow in my process I blended multiple members of  my family into one. No matter. The process is the important part. 


DISCLAIMER: I tried to embrace my anger. I tried to fan the flames. I tried to dig up compacted rage. As intentional as this is, I am still quite uncomfortable with expressing my anger. I don't know if such phrases are effective. I don't know if it's rational or justified or something I can stand by... I'm trying not to judge myself and I hope you can withhold judgment as well :o) I don't like saying mean things. I empathize and I see both sides so much that I struggle to even own thoughts like these let alone express them on paper, screen, or out loud!

DISCLAIMER PS: The hubby has encouraged me to embrace a "go fuck yourself" mentality. Instead of being hurt and trying to figure out what's wrong with me or how to be good enough, reject the hurtful opinion. Think or say "go fuck yourself" instead of throwing myself under the bus or putting myself at risk for relapse. I don't have to analyze every comment... I can let it go. Push it away. So, I tried to embrace that. In real life I don't really say, "go fuck yourself." Ever. Very weird feelings... Anywho. Just sayin.


Here we go. Somehow an offhand comment set my off...



Maybe you thought it was a compliment today when you said I should be on that show, "American Grit." The thing is, when the host describes the show as a place for people "all who either have lost their grit or never had it" I don't take that as a compliment. 



A) How the fuck can you think that I don't have grit? Do you have that little appreciation for what I've survived? 


It's puzzling to me that you have never seemed to grasp my mental health issues. It's been over 15 years since my symptoms surfaced and yet it seems like you still struggle to acknowledge my disease. I mention something relating to my mental health and I'm greeted with a "deer in the headlights" stare. My husband says that he has given up on trying to explain that this type of illness can't be "cured," that it's part of my body chemistry and brain structure. Do you really think I'm not trying hard enough to "fix it?" Do you think that I'm lazy?

Maybe you don't appreciate the years of my childhood and young adulthood spent in quiet desperation. The years of self-harming and isolation. You pegged me as "the Eeyore of the family." Why does my mental illness define my personality? 

Maybe you didn't notice my instability. You didn't notice my disease sending me into months of darkness or jerking me into weeks of elation. Years of feeling like I couldn't be trusted with my own life; whether that meant wanting to kill myself or being aware that I was too starry-eyed to make responsible decisions. I was impulsive and unstable and trying to figure out a solution all on my own... I suppose these deep-rooted feelings of rejection and abandonment have grown from multiple seeds, I'm sure this is one of them though. You didn't know what to do, I get it, maybe if it felt like you tried I wouldn't feel this angry. I wouldn't feel this heartbroken. You turned away from me and fed my self-disgust. 


And what of the last couple years? Do you appreciate the fact that I spent months barely able to care for myself or my infant son? What about the period of time that I couldn't be trusted alone with my son? Surely you remember the weeks in the hospital. I'm told you visited. I know that you helped drive me to ECT treatments. Do you know how many times the hubster drove me? or drove BB north to daycare then drove south to work then drove west to see me in the psych ward before rushing back to BB and caring for our son throughout the evening-multiple wakings in the night-before waking early to do it again all on his own? (Hubby comment: he only got one speeding ticket!)

Do you see the scars we carry? The scars that bind us? That time broke trust and built trust. I couldn't be trusted with my life or with my son's life. He saved us. Why does the hubby ask so openly and abruptly if I'm safe? if I'm suicidal? if I feel out of control? because dozens and dozens of times I've been in danger. He's been rescuing me. That was our norm and we've made it through. We've made it through and are making a new normal from scratch. Your jokes and teasing about his protectiveness and adherence to routine aren't just annoying, they're insulting.

How can you imply that I don't have grit? Over a year of life-threatening postpartum depression, over a dozen medications tried to stem the crisis, over three weeks in the hospital, over thirty ECT treatments... I'm still here. I laid on a bed and waited for my last breath to try and spare my husband and son a lifetime of trying to save a life I thought wasn't worth saving-mine. My husband ripped that plastic bag off my face and saved my life that afternoon and despite having close to no resolve left, somehow I kept fighting. For him. For my son. And a little for me.

How much more grit do I have to have before I can believe you think I'm enough?

I can't count on that anymore. I can't wait to sense some change in you. I can't play these pussy-footing games of allusion and corroding criticism. I may have started my life in this game with your dangerous rules. I won't finish my life at your game. You can call me sensitive, you can tease me and imply that I'm weak, you can make me feel like I'm flawed beyond salvaging-and then you can go fuck yourselves. Just because you don't seem to realize the damage you cause doesn't mean you are devoid of responsibility. 

I don't need your apologies. I don't need you. I don't need more grit.




B) Do you have that little appreciation for how much I do everyday to try and avert relapse and continue to survive? What kind of grit does that take?


You give the impression that the most important aspect of my exercise regimen in my weight loss and being fit. Maybe all your comments about me "being in the best shape of your life" or "a sliver of what you used to be" are intended to be compliments. In reality? It feels like weight added back onto my shoulders. I feel pressure to lose more weight. To lift heavier weight. To tone more parts of my body and fit in smaller clothes and eliminate rolls and embody some image that you, society, and the shadowed part of me have deemed worthy of pride. 

It's not healthy.

My mental state is more important than the state of my ass. I exercise every day to try and maintain my mood stability or actively battle back anxiety and depression. I go to the gym despite my social anxiety, despite feeling inept and insufficient, despite feeling like an outcast and poser. I go to the gym and try to push myself hard enough to be able to push back the disease I will live with for the rest of my life.

It doesn't really matter how much I can lift. The kind of strength I need most can't be provided by regular exercise.


You tease me for my "OCD" while loading the dishwasher or trying to keep the refrigerator organized. Okay, that's not how you do things. Fine. I do it different and for a damn good reason. 

I'm not OCD-which is a  clinical disorder and not something to be joked about-I am sick. I am sick in such a way that I have to avoid any extra stress whenever possible. I am sick in such a way that I have to be mindful throughout my day about big and little choices-from doing dishes or taking medication. 

I am sick in such a way that unloading the dishes and finding several of them dirty because the machine was overloaded or loaded ineffectively can be unduly upsetting. I'm sick in such a way that having sharp knives scattered throughout the other silverware instead of contained in their own section can increase my impulses to self-harm. 

As for a disorganized and sometimes unsanitary fridge or a cabinet stuffed with mismatched Tupperware? If I'm having a bad day, opening a door and being confronted by these things can send me into a panic or distress me in a way that contributes to a depressive episode. Not to mention feeling the criticism and rejection from you verbal teasing in each carelessly placed item. And seriously-why would you want to put your fruits right by (or on) your raw meat!? 


I have to live this way to live. It's working for me and that's what matters-at least to me, my husband, and our son. Don't think that I resent it-it is a lot of work and it's also the greatest sense of stability that I've ever had in my life. My mental state may fluctuate and get dangerous from time-to-time; dinner will always be at 6:00 PM. The silverware will always be sorted and easily accessible. The yoghurt will always be on the same shelf. Baby Bananaface will always have a set bedtime. That stability, having something I can count on, gives me comfort and confidence that I didn't have before. It helps me cope, it helps me thrive.

You want to live in a hurricane made by your own hand? Go ahead. You want to swallow your feelings and eat your loneliness? Go ahead. You want to bury yourself in cheap trinkets in lieu hearing "I love you?" Fine. I'm sick of trying to satiate the needs you don't claim responsibility for or even acknowledge. I'm not interested in maintaining this legacy of delusion and self-imposed suffering. I take this heritage and try to set it aside day-after-day for my own good and for my husband and for my son.

Y'all can sit in your burning building on your own. I'm leaving.




Whew. I tried NOT to edit much. I tried NOT to hold back or censor. I'm sure that this isn't everything though. I have a hard time handling anger. I think this was a step in the right direction though.

What does this mean for the real relationship with me family? I have no clue. I do think that I can't expect them to change or expend too much of my energy fighting to change things. I have to take care of myself in other ways first and that takes a lot of my time and energy. I think it's all right to simply accept things and accept that I don't have to fix it. I can move on and live the best life that I can without making everything neat and perfect.

CONGRATS if you read this entire post.

 You have eyes of steel ;o)

Checking In

I'm feeling much better and totally recovered from my jungle fever. That night was awful and the next day I couldn't walk much without getting faint until that afternoon. Even into the evening I couldn't stand around for very long without having to sit down. I decided to skip my gym classes again the following day to give myself enough time to really bounce back. I was back at it on Thursday though!

RANDOM BB PICHe insisted on wearing his galoshes.
Certainly developing his own style!

There was an interesting moment with my mom (it was Friday I think). When we had visited for Baby Bananaface's birthday she had seemed agitated during our grocery/coffee run. I was pretty sure it wasn't something that me and mine had done. I still wanted to make sure and give her an opportunity to vent even if it was something else.

Well, when I asked she kept changing the subject. I kept asking. Even to the point when we were walking back into the house! "Is something bothering you or not? You keep changing the subject and avoid giving me an answer. What's going on? Do you just not want to talk about it? Just say so and I'll stop asking." She then admitted that she had been changing the subject and didn't want to talk about it-a big moment considering how emotionally accessible is!

So, the story continued a couple days ago.... She called me while she was on base getting her lab work done and picking up her meds (she takes injections for rheumatoid arthritis). Then she brought up the agitation! Something about how all of them being sick (my nephew, my sister, Mom, and Dad all at once) and how she was worn out.

She mentioned something about how she thinks my sister is realizing how agitated she really is lately. She also opened up about how she is not only exhausted, she misses having her own life. "Sure, he's my grandson and I love him and I want to take care of him. I just want some of my old life back. I don't like how I'm the one he comes running to whenever he needs something!"

It was sad and yet also felt amazing. I've decided to change the way I live with being open and genuine whether or not people reciprocate. Usually, my family doesn't really reciprocate with sharing personal feelings or opinions, they simply listen and nod type of thing. It can feel awkward. This time I got something in return! It made me feel like I was making a difference. It made me feel validated and encouraged to continue being myself. It felt wonderful.

RANDOM BB PIC
He picked out his jacket, hat, and mittens.
Pretty dang happy that morning!

I'm sad about the situation. It's not quite a hot mess; it certainly ain't near great though.

The relationship between my sister and her baby daddy is awful. She's borderline abusive I would say. That makes me and my parents worry about the future since sister/baby daddy are going to be in each others' lives for the rest of their lives! We want things to be better for my nephew... and for his parents.

My parents have had my sister and their grandson living with them for a while now. She moved in sometime during my recovery (I can't remember when because of the ECT) so it's been a decent length of time. Over a year now, I know. They're exhausted. She blows up at them and will sometimes complain to me about wanting her own place. I don't think she appreciates what she has and how good she has it. She calls herself a single parent when she's really got two co-parents.

RANDOM BB PIC
"No time for diapers!
I gotta catch up on my Reader's Digest!"

The hubs and I have been having some pretty... intense discussions lately as well. It's borderline arguing and there's definitely strong emotions-thankfully we always end up in a calmer place with more functional communication. I think I'll post about that later after I've had more time to think on it.

Hope everyone's having a good weekend. We've got blue skies and chilly temps. Might get some snow flurries today.

My Birthday! (yep, it's a long post)

My birthday was yesterday and went pretty dang well, I must say. It was a busy day, but a happy day!


I started off my day at the gym, like usual. I took a class from one of the instructors I had given a card to and was a little anxious about what her reaction might be. She wished me happy birthday and then later on in class she sidled up to me and said, "By the way, your card was amazing."

She went on to say that her son saw the picture I drew and said it was so good they should frame it. She mentioned how much it meant to her and how sweet it was of me. We chatted a bit more and I felt really good and relieved that my card had been well received!

At the end of class she came up to me again and handed me an envelope. "I totally had this before you even gave me your card, I swear!" I opened it and saw a lot of writing so I decided to wait and read it in my car.

The message was so sweet. She mentioned how happy she was for me and how she was so proud of all the progress I've made and just amazed at how far I've come and what I've been through (I had shared my story with her before, so she knows about the whole twisted tale). She went on to say that she hoped I had a wonderful birthday and that she hopes to be around for my next birthday to see just how far I go this year.



I went home and relaxed a bit. Took a bit of extra time to pick out a "nice" outfit, do my hair, even put on makeup! I had class that afternoon and right before I worked up my courage to write a Facebook post that I had been contemplating... It included a selfie and blurb about what this birthday means to me as well as a thank you to any friends, family, providers, instructors, etc. that I hadn't thanked yet. It was a bit scary but felt so good (since then it has been well received so I feel relieved and encouraged!).

I picked up Baby Bananaface and we headed to the hubster's office. I had picked up chocolates as a Valentine's Day surprise and haphazardly hid them around his office (I also hid some around his morning routine route, he had to find 14 little individually wrapped chocolates all together).

We continued on south and met my parents, my sister, and my nephew for dinner. My brother couldn't make it but it did send along a card and that meant a lot to me. I made sure to say a formal thanks to my family for all that they've done to help me make it to my birthday. My mom and I cried but it was a good cry!

One of the highlights of the dinner was playing Soundball while we waited for the check. It is a game I learned at DBT and entails throwing an invisible ball to random people in the group-but that's not all. Before someone throws the ball, they have to repeat the sound that the person throwing it to them made up. Then they have to make up their own silly sound for the next person to repeat.

Things got serious. Lemme tell ya! We were laughing til we had tears in our eyes! Some of the noises were quite challenging and odd. By the end of it we weren't even doing the ball-throwing motion, but including our own random movements for the next person to mimic along with the goofy sounds! It was really fun and I really enjoyed myself.



The hubster and I a rather interesting conversation on the way home from dinner. My mom had made a comment at dinner that I'm "a completely different person" now and it made me wonder, who am I really? What was I before if not myself?

The hubby, as usual, seemed to have an answer without even needing time to mull it over.

He said something along the lines of, "I think you were repressed before. It was more than just the depression and anxiety being out of control. You weren't able to be yourself, your true self, for a long time."

This stirred my mental pot further. I was confused and concerned about how bubbly and energetic and social I've been. Maybe my birthday thank yous mission and cards were creepy or over-dramatic. I wondered aloud, "What if this isn't really me and I'm actually hypomanic right now?"

"Ahh. Well that's a good point. I think, though, that if you were hypomanic you'd be having sleep issues. You'd be more focused on big to-do lists and pursuing lots of projects and overextending yourself. You would have lost focus on what's important, what's healthy."

"So maybe, I'm not being hypomanic, I'm just not quite comfortable with me being... me yet? Like it's still unfamiliar and feels unsafe? That would make sense." I smiled and then frowned with further concerns. "But wait, if I wasn't me before, why would you have married me? Was I just depressed and awful all the time? How could you know the real me if I wasn't the real me?"

He laughed and smirked in his special way, patting me on the leg. "Because the good times were amazing. When we met, you were doing well. You'd talk about fun little chats and moments with the customers at the bank you worked at all the time. You gave me notes and doodles and little surprises. Sure, when the bad times came you were different, but I always knew the good side-the real you-that was underneath. It's been there all along."



It's all still confusing and a bit "who's on first" to me, but that chat felt really good and helped clear a lot of things up. I've still got a ways to go when it comes to accepting myself and building the confidence that will help me maintain my stability and life a successfully happy and healthy life, but I'm headed in the right direction. Day-by-day I'll get there.

It makes me cry thinking about how long he's been there for me. Recognizing and appreciating just how much he's helped me through, how he's stood by side and believed through it all that we'd find the real me through all that darkness. His faith and strength and resolve is stunning.

He's taught me so much about what love really is and I look forward to learning even more together. I really can't ask for anything more. He is my hero and so much more than I ever imagined a husband could be. Nobody's perfect, but I think we're perfect together and that's all that matters.


Thank you for all the birthday wishes :o)

Happy Valentines Day everybody :o)

Steppin' Out!!

I was feeling... verbal? brave? daring? Whatever it was, it was a big leap into new territory for me to post the following to Facebook. It was all linked up with the following article from The Mighty. I came across the article from a couple of pages I follow sharing it and felt inspired to make my own statement in honor of World Suicide Prevention Day and National Suicide Prevention Week.


-----


It's World Suicide Prevention Day and just like National Suicide Prevention Week I feel compelled to post and share a little bit. #WSPD16

I really appreciated this article. I hate to know that there are so many others that have experienced the same heartbreaking pain but hearing their stories is so encouraging for me personally and I would think it can be helpful to those who don't quite "get" suicide. For those out there that "get" suicide on a personal level-keep fighting! We can do this :)


The following snippets really resonated with me:

“In the mind of the person thinking about the act, it is the complete opposite of a selfish decision. In that moment, we truly feel the world would be a better place without us. It’s a situation I’m glad some people don’t understand because it means they’ve never felt those feelings, but one which people who have never experienced themselves shouldn’t be so quick to judge.” — Jen D.

“When I tell my story, it’s not for attention. It’s a way for me to reach out and make others realize they’re not alone. I want my story to inspire others to keep going, to continue to fight, and to take the steps towards a happier and healthier life.” — Megan D.


I know the fear, the pain, the doubt, and how hopeless it all can seem but I also know when I'm in my "right" mind that life is worth the fight. I live with the fear of my disease convincing me otherwise everyday, but I keep doing my level best to keep fighting the good fight. #IKeptLiving

I know this post is ridiculously long :p but that's okay!
Strength and hope to all in the trenches... be well <3

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Today was an up-and-down day but overall up. I had to use a lot skills and I battled some anxiety but I've also enjoyed more relaxed time than usual and kept active and proactive-yay!

I'm a survivor, and I'm doing my best and that's good enough :o)

Vacay Mega Post!!!

For our vacation we went up north to a little town called Birch Bay and stayed with my parents at a condo. We played a lot of card/dice/word games and also saw some of my relatives (my two remaining aunts from my dad's side and even a cousin of mine and my sister for a little bit the first day) as well as participating in a variety of day trips and other fun.

It was a good trip even though I battled through some anxiety at times. Some of the highlights included working out at the gym watching "I Love Lucy" and "The Golden Girls" from the treadmill, communicating with my mom about my anxiety and getting support from her, going to Canada and golfing as well as getting Baby Bananaface his first haircut, and playing in the pool with my family.

Here are some pics captured by my mom throughout the trip, there are a few repetitive ones and quite a variety but I felt like some were too good not to share!

All of us at my alma mater, Western Washington Uni.
I got a new sweatshirt that I've been wanting for months-
yay!

The hubs and BB enjoying the pool

Apparently Mom took a shot of me in the pool-
I look so happy I'm even comfy sharing
the pic even with me in a bathing suit!

The hubster had some very angry energy
with his very aggressive swings...
I happened to find him a perfect keepsake
afterward-an angry golfing Donald Duck ornament!

Can't golf without a binkie!

Action shot. He held onto that golf ball
nearly the entire time!

This reminds me of Godzilla for some reason :o)

Baby Bananaface preparing for takeoff
at his first haircut-he really enjoyed the
"Dora the Explorer" on the TV!

Me and my parents happily observing

Not phased at all-totally chill the entire time!

The "after" picture :o)

The hubs and I playing around
with Mom's "Snapchat" app thingy face-swap!

I used a lot of my DBT skills throughout the vacation and I think it contributed to me enjoying the trip more. I also really appreciated being able to use the skills to reach out to my husband and my family for support as I struggled with some anxiety instead of keeping quiet and trying to hide my truth.


Speaking of DBT, I had class tonight that was the end of a module and involved the graduation of 3 ladies that I really appreciate having in class and am going to miss quite a bit... I decided to be brave and wrote them each a little note with my contact information so maybe I'll hear from them and we'll stay in touch. We shall see! I think this is an example of one of the ways DBT is helping me and I'm growing as a person and I'm really grateful for that :o)

In other news, I start TMS tomorrow and see one of my friends from college/childhood so gonna be a busy day! I'm scared but trying to believe in myself and stay calm and focused and just do my best.


Mega post out!

Fruit Salad Post

I'm just gonna go for it and throw in a handful of the thoughts and feelings that are with me today and let this post turn into whatever it is meant to become!

A) I really appreciated this blog post and how it helped simplify and validate my disorder while also providing some concrete tools for improving communication with others. I don't get to talk with people in this fashion about bipolar II very often but it's something that I would like to feel confident talking about if ever I got the chance.

*I was concerned about the comments she made about bipolar being highly genetic and the 50% stat she threw down, but the hubster has reassured me that it is more complex and less stark/severe than that and that I shouldn't feel like Baby Bananaface is a timebomb or that I've poisoned him... he found some other statistics that were more realistic and thankfully, reassuring. That said I am not an expert on this so I can't clarify what the "truth" is, I just don't want anybody freaking out like I did!

B) I've been having a lot of feelings about my aunt's passing and my relationship with my cousin and some of that involves feeling grief but also shameful or fearful or upset about the distance that has evolved between me and my cousin and my sorta-uncle (I don't call him "Uncle __" I just call him "__" and they weren't officially married til later in their relationship so... it's confusing but I like the guy). 

Part of the reason that distance evolved was because of my postpartum depression and the fact that I was in the hospital while my aunt was in a different hospital dying. She had had cancer for months prior to that and I hadn't seen her because she was a heavy smoker and I had stopped visiting years before because it was physically uncomfortable and very emotionally painful for me to see her and "__" smoking and, in my eyes, hurting themselves. I feel like a part of me knew that a very painful end was coming and I backed away early because I just didn't know how to cope with all the feelings I was having at the time.

Since she died I've been more and more expressive about my sadness but I've felt a little odd and "on the outside" of the grief since I didn't see her during her sickness and death. It feels like my cousin and my sorta-uncle and my first family have more license to be sad than I but I think this is the mark of an invalidating family structure, a part of the ongoing battle I experience around being myself and being okay with that... 

The fact is that I was too sensitive to watch my aunt slowly kill herself and I had to get distance, I had a lot going on in my own life and my mental health issues prevented me from coping with that high stress situation and prevented me from seeing her not only while she was sick but before then too. The fact is that my experience is unique and different from everyone else's and it happens to involve grieving from a greater distance and I am thankful that I protected myself from potentially very traumatic memories surrounding her disease and death. It has made things awkward, but I really don't regret my decision to run for the hills when I did-it was the best I could do for myself and that's all I can hope for. I don't know if I'll ever regain as close a relationship with my sorta-uncle or cousin but I can't blame myself for that, I can just do my best and be me and hope for the best.

*Still sorting through this, but that splat of feelings certainly helps!

C) I have a little update related to reintroducing myself to myself (I talked about feeling like a stranger in my own life the other day and the hubbo suggested reframing my loss of self as a journey to rediscover myself, to reintroduce myself)... On Monday I was up to some good ole Hannah mischief! Here's the scoop:

The hubster had a dentist appointment to get a filling. He's been complaining about it for weeks because he hates the feeling of the needle they use to numb him up and generally isn't a fan of the dentist anyway. That morning as I was driving home from the gym I had an inspiration to make him a little encouragement card and drop it off at the dentist's so they could give it to him when he checked in. I made him a little card with a scattering of shiny red foil hearts and a grumpy Garfield cartoon and a little note and dropped it off just before the dentist's office went to lunch. 

That afternoon I could cheery text from the hubster about "running into Garfield at the dentist's" and he was so grateful for the card! I was so glad I could help him relax and also grateful I could feel like myself again. It was a wonderful moment and I'm hoping I can continue to build on the positive vibes.

D) Overall, my wellness is improved. The jitters are gone and I'm off my Latuda now (we are keeping a watchful eye out for any symptoms that may crop up related to this). I am still struggling with anxiety but I've been able to use my DBT skills to help me cope and there is a little piece of me that sidling up to the idea of thinking of a future, looking ahead, buying into life more-and that's a big deal.

I still very much feel like a work in progress (and/or a "hot mess") but I feel like I'm starting to push back against those dark, sticky ideas that I'm worthless and hopeless and while that bit of fight in me feels a little strange, it also feels a little good too. 

E) Here are this week's "Words for Wednesday" prompts provided by River:

1. energy

2. caravan

3. drop

4. whispering

5. farmer

6. tracker

and/or

1. slinging

2. risking

3. young

4. absolute

5. morsels

6. contain

and/or

"the headlights were the only illumination on the single lane road"

I didn't write anything based on the prompts but wanted to share them around in case anyone needed some inspiration! :o)

F) Bonus link for anxiety disorder related boost-ya-up/perk :o)

So there is this fruit salad post, hope it doesn't hurt yer eyes too much!

Seeing the Darkness

Things are still hard.

Anxiety haunts me. I catch myself grinding my teeth off and on all day. Taking care of Baby Bananaface is a special challenge; the hubster and I are very cautious about overwhelming me and limiting my time as primary caregiver. Household responsibilities still daunt me but are becoming more and more feasible, believably achievable. On certain days, when I see scissors images of scratched wrists flash through my mind. The same can be said for plastic bags and suicidal ideations. Panic descends upon me and takes my breath away every couple days or more frequently. Sometimes I can whisk it away with mental shepherding but some days I just have to ride the wave and wait out the sickening pangs of discomfort that wrack my body and bring forth an odd chest pain so specific to my panic attacks.

My mind-my life isn't quite my own yet; the depression is still in residence, but I've come to a place where I've begun to see the dark instead of being consumed by it. I have just enough light for a little bit of perspective every now and then. That might not sound like much, but it's amazing.

Instead of being swamped, paralyzed, and disabled by the Darkness I'm able to rescue myself more and more often. I sometimes feel capable and adept in moments when I can carefully redirect my morbid thoughts to more positive or at least harmless trajectories. I am able to express myself more frequently, whether that means basic communication and expressing my thoughts or expressing my often disregarded feelings, even dredging up the worst, the darkest thoughts and bringing them into the light; it's a victory of sorts.

Working past the silence, the isolation, the sacrifice that takes me past a healthy lifestyle to a darker, self-loathing, a slow death that has hijacked my living for far too long is a much appreciated mark of progress. I still have a hard time battling back the sticky tentacles of depressive logic and feelings of defeated heartbreak when I contemplate where the Darkness has taken me and all the challenges I've experienced over the past several months but tiptoeing closer to the Darkness for a moment as I acknowledge my new perspective, my new outlook, my new light on the situation seems necessary and worthwhile.

It's a little light, true, but my little light is enough to let me see how far down I've gone and how I've climbed out a bit now and that makes me feel pride and love and hope... things that I haven't felt for myself in so long. It's a tear-worthy thing for me to feel these things; happy tears but tears nonetheless.

So that's where I am. I'm still sick but I'm having moments of feeling well again. I'm still fighting; struggling some moments but succeeding in others. I don't find myself aiming for any particular success or mark of victory, instead I recognize that I am in for a fight the rest of my life and that weight is an intimidating, upsetting, but happy burden as I build up the strength and determination to wage this battle for my wellness.

I know I've had posts like this before, but that is how this disease works: over and over again you must dedicate yourself to living, to battling back the illness, to whatever new treatment you're trying whether it be medication or therapy... so I'm sorry if this is repetitive or redundant, but as much as this point in my current recovery is a revisiting is also a new exploration of self as well.

I'm still feeling the Darkness, I'm still "in the shit," I'm still hurting, but I'm also feeling a stubborn hopefulness and pride and grit that makes me want to stand up and beat my chest and kick and scream and fight and you know what? that feels worth a post to me. Worth some introspection, some tears, some fears.

I'm worth it.



Thanks for reading :o)

I hope others out there are feeling good or at least better if they were/are feeling poorly themselves. You have someone wishing you well! Keep fighting.

<3

F is for F-bombs #atozchallenge

This post is part of my first year doing the A to Z Challenge and I happen to be writing under the theme Gratitude: The Things That Keep Me Alive. This is a relevant theme for me as I am struggling with postpartum depression, and also have diagnosed anxiety and bipolar II (just to let you know what's going on with me-it might be pertinent as you read the post below). Thank you for stopping by and reading my post!

F is for F-bombs because, *sigh*, I sure love dropping a F-bomb every now and again (okay, probably WAY more often than I'd admit but, hey, I'm a work in progress). It's like one-second therapy or an anti-anxiety pill that works in a snap, it's just so fuckin' nice to just say fuck sometimes. 

It's even a little more complex than I initially thought; as I was writing this post I realized that fuckin' things (verbally that is) is therapeutic for me because it helps externalize things and validate my feelings instead of me blaming myself or muting my complaints, biting my tongue, or basically telling myself I'm not worthwhile enough to have a valid complaint or feeling. 

I have a tendency to hold things in because I have low self esteem/family culture/however you wanna explain it and don't consider my feelings valid or worthwhile. Maybe it's juvenile, but "fuck" helps me work towards validating my feelings and honoring myself and my experience, and that's fuckin' important! I hope that someday I will be able to use "big girl" words to describe my experience, but at the moment, just saying fuck and acknowledging a feeling is there is a step in a good direction. 

My husband has made it clear that I need to work on my potty mouth now that we have a son and I'm trying to frick instead of fuck but it's damn hard. Shit. Well, obviously I have a ways to go as far as cursing goes, but I may very well always love my F-bombs :o)

An Unusual Monday

Today was unusual for a variety of reasons but the main two involve an email and a phone call.

The email was one that I sent to my mother. Yes. Seriously. I spoke out. I'm still in a bit of shock over it. I was very emotional but tried to be inoffensive and just lay it out there, but I've been feeling ooky about expressing any feelings but the hubs says I didn't do anything wrong, it's just my family doesn't deal with feelings or conflict very well... well, just read and maybe you'll know what I mean:

Dear Mom.

I had already decided that I didn't want you to be a part of my color-coded support system anymore but Sunday clinched it. I feel like my mood or my needs are only important when it's convenient or easy for you, and that's not the type of support that I need. It's only further demoralizing and depressing. Whenever you gruffly inquire as to my color for the day, my mood dives, especially when I haven't heard from you in days besides. it isn't working for me and I won't go on acting like it is to try and spare your feelings.

As for Sunday, I told you that SISTER, her pregnancy, the baby have all become triggers, and we did not get a single heads up that she would be there after years of not, disparaging the event and skipping out we didn't expect her. It was very clear to me that my needs and health aren't important in our family, simply looking well enough and putting on a good show are paramount. That doesn't work for me. I need honesty, I need genuine emotion and caring, and I need more support than being blindsided by a huge trigger without any warning from my so-called support network. 

Hannah

NRN

(I figured email was the best way to avoid sending massive onslaughts of much maligned "Hannah texts")

My color-coded support system was an idea born of my hospital stay and so far has been a failure. I don't get the support I need from the people I selected and we're going to be transitioning to using hotlines as my primary resource for help since I can't communicate as needed with my support system. ANYWAYS. The email was intense but I reined myself in a lot.

The phone call was with my dad. I decided to call him and let him know that there was no way we could be there for Christmas but we hoped that we could come down once my sister and co. leave. Apparently Mom had forwarded him the email and so we talked about that too. He asked if it was okay to talk about some things and I said that I might cry but it was okay, and he said tears were good a sign he thought. 

It was a good talk and a bad talk and a long talk and sad talk and a happy talk. Every once in a long while my dad and I connect this way and I feel understood and seen and appreciated but it doesn't happen very often. This time I was sensitive to feeling a little.... well, ya know when someone sympathizes with you but then talks about how someone else has it harder and it invalidates you but you feel guilty so you're not sure if you're in the wrong or if the other person is just making you feel bad? There was a little bit of that. 

I totally understand I'm not the center of the world and that there are other things going on, but I expect to treated with decency. Dad mentioned how poorly my Aunt Sally is going and how it doesn't seem like it will be long and he mentioned how much my sister has wanted to talk with me... it's still too much. I can't give anything away when I'm barely rooted to this plane.

So. There is some of my day. Some of the emotions roiling around in me at the moment. It's messy and confusing but I feel a bit lighter and I don't think this is the last time I will stir up some shit at my family's expense.

Teeth, Tears, Milk, and Poop

I'm still bobbing around the sad end of my mood spectrum. I've been very low energy this week which hasn't worked out so well with Baby Bananaface's surge in activity and decline in naps. Still haven't captured his two new bottom teeth on film, dang hard!

Not only is his crawling, climbing, banging, cruising, and drooling his way all over the house with a new fervor-but he's pooping like he's on overdrive. Maybe it's a growth spurt, I don't know. I'm so caught up in dragging myself through the day that I can't objectively view much of anything lately. All I know is I feel overwhelmed and exhausted quite often and he just doesn't seem to stop (at least not as often as he once did).

Hard fought nap, a damn hard fought nap.

Talking to my psychiatrist and my therapist I think it's time to change our breastfeeding routine. It's taking too much outta me (in more than milky ways), I feel too much pressure, I stress about supply too much, I can't get up and pump at night when I need to rest... something has got to give.

I'm seeing the lactation consultant again Monday to discuss options... I wanted to exclusively breastfeed to 9 months or longer, but now I don't think that's reasonable. I'm not well and I need to make life easier for myself. Pretty hard with my perfectionist tendencies to let something like that go, but I can see how parenthood will present this situation to me many times-ideally I wanted this and realistically with my child/life/situation I ended up doing this.



In somewhat better news I started the new drug, lithium. I'm taking 300 mg each night until Monday, when I'll start taking 600 mg for five more days and then we'll take a blood level. The plan is to get the lithium up to a therapeutic dose and then back the Seroquel off. Doc is hoping that with an effective mood stabilizer I won't need the sleep aid effect of the Seroquel or the anti-anxiety med Ativan as often or at all. Seems like pie in the sky stuff to me, but she's the doc and I trust that she knows what to expect of treatment better than I.


On a side note, donating blood Wednesday made me feel good about myself but didn't help with my exhaustion.


On another side note, I had my mother up yesterday (successful visit overall despite my fatigue and some quiet spells) and she only spoke obtusely about my aunt's situation. Today I saw my dad for brekkie down south and he and I spoke about it openly.

We're on a very similar page: saw this coming, just didn't know when, it sucks, the transition will happen, grief etc., then life goes on. It felt good to talk about it with someone that not only had my view but balances the matter of fact feelings with the deep, gooey feelings pretty well. We both felt a little callous for thinking "well, ya smoke and live that way for that long and this is what happens, I never expected her to go peacefully, it sucks, but that's the reality" but realizing we weren't the only person thinking or feeling that way was helpful and also made it easier to express the harder, sadder feelings that are more difficult to access when you can be honest about your experience first and foremost.

He made the simple comment, "She was a good aunt," and it made me remember all the good times when I was younger. She was my favorite aunt, Aunt Sally, the only aunt I felt I really had. She was fun. Then, as I got older, I got more sensitive to her smoking and the deception about my cousin really rankled me. Years of asking her to quit smoking, to be healthier... I finally gave up. It was too sad watching her kill herself like that. I distanced. I withdrew. I used to visit so often and now I can't remember how long it's been. I know that being in her house makes my eyes water and my throat hurt. Sitting near her in a restaurant makes my nose burn. She doesn't go out much and we don't keep in contact so she hasn't met B.B. and I haven't seen her since I was preggers. It's sad. But I don't want to make myself feel worse or responsible... Maybe I will try to arrange a meeting somewhere outside her house where I feel safe bringing B.B. .... Anyways...

Oh, the downlow: she has stage 4 cancer. What type, unsure, just that it's everywhere-lungs, kidneys, lymph nodes, and they've done radiation and are doing chemo trying to shrink it enough to be somewhat operable but as-is it's inoperable. I think the hub's said my mom said it was a 6-12 month outlook scenario (he asked her point blank what was going on and she responded but she has a hard time talking about it with me, I think she's afraid of overloading me). I just don't understand how it got that bad without them knowing, she's had cancer scares before so I would've thought she was being surveilled pretty regular but I guess not. Maybe it was just a fast-mover?

Anyways.

So.

I'm here. I'm moving along. Trying not to get swamped as I paddle my leaky boat through these rough waters, making repairs as I go.

Bless my birds... this northern flicker made quite a mess this morning.

Another Rough Day

Today I awoke with anxious thoughts about cancelling my doula gig at the forefront of my mind. The entire day, off and on, it has plagued me. The anxiety making me tense, at times nauseated or light headed, at others my limbs semi-frozen and heavy. I took my anti-anxiety meds but it didn't help much if at all. Living in dread is making me ill. Tomorrow, if I haven't heard from the client, I will call and face these fears. Hopefully I can at least get some closure.

I've also been agitated, impatient, and snappy today, one of my early signs that my mood is in decline. It is so strange to be aware of one's mood being so irrational, so out of control, like being hijacked. I am able to control some of the angry outbursts but still have my moments. I am able to tell the hubby that I'm agitated and snappy (which is already obvious) and I'm able to communicate about my mood but my tone and delivery is wonky... It's hard to explain but basically I'm not myself today.

Don't get me wrong, some days being cranky and snappy happens but today it seems not of me, it doesn't follow, it seems strange and out of control.

I don't know. But that is where I am at the moment.

Reading and doing my distraction/relaxation therapy helps, trying not to fight this or grapple with it, but instead letting it pass through helps as well.

Tomorrow is a new day.

PS Ya know you're reading a good romance novel when someone accidentally gets lit on fire. Pretty dang good chapter ending cliffhanger.

PPS Ya know you're hubby is concerned about your mental health when his chit chat involves some story about a lady that had postpartum psychosis... twice.

Rain & Star Trek

Yesterday was bad. An easy slide into a familiar dark space. Somehow I skipped most of the agonizing anxiety and desire to self harm and instead found myself in the eerie calm in the eye of my storm, resigned to a precipitous death and relieved at the prospect.

Once again I had the disconcerting experience of being outside of my mind, the thoughts that the hubby wants me to end it and just get things over with coming to me like an epiphany. Baby Bananaface was something of an anchor, holding me fast to this world, but I also feel so bad about putting him through this, these episodes, this madness, that I came close to rationalizing leaving him. Part of me thinks it would be better for him, another part believes it would be shattering.


Some notes about this episode:

-Quick & slippery, woke up feeling unmotivated and quickly found myself in a suicidal bog, I didn't notice much a precursor

-I stopped talking, making eye contact, it even took some time for me to be able to write anything instead, for a few hours, I simply blinked in response as the hubster dragged his pen along a pain spectrum or multiple choice questions (made me wonder how many other couples have nights like this, it seemed to cinematic and ridiculous) 

-Lack of appetite, not drinking or eating enough

-My caring for Baby Bananaface didn't suffer much, just shifted to us spending the day in bed instead of the living room with more toys, I was less communicative but still met his needs

-Eerie calm, the hubs couldn't tell if I was catatonic from too much anxiety or if I was experiencing less anxiety than usual. It definitely felt like my circuits were fried, maybe the day before caused so much pain and anxiety that the next morning I woke up fried/calm/bottomed out?


The hubster managed to get me out of it by bedtime. He couldn't get me to leave the bedroom for several hours but he managed to get me to watch some Star Trek on the lappy (apparently he knows something I don't, because it was quite an effective trick) and by the end of the episode I was communicating again.

Later I heard a rainstorm through my book on tape and that got me to leave the bedroom and sit on the balcony for a while. I ate and drank what the hubby brought me and while the suicidal thoughts/eerie calm didn't fade right away, it seemed to get better by bedtime and I awoke this morning feeling more okay.

A certain skepticism remains, I expect the darkness to return soon, I expect my suicidal reasoning to be justified-a familiar symptom of my darker episodes. Sometimes it remains like a residue for a few days, other times another episode does ensue in short order, worse as it piggy backs on that leftover darkness...


This morning I had the thought that humanity is like a giant herd and I'm simply a flawed cow to be culled. Then I envisioned a cow having my symptoms and in a twisted way I was tickled. It was funny imagining a cow wandering away from the herd, not eating, lying down and sighing heavily to itself for most of the day, the farmers standing by saying "Elsie's at it again, that's the 3rd time this month, she's one of those depressed ones, not going to be of any use."

It's during these times I marvel at how much meaning we put on life, it seems so clear in these moments that it's all just made up. We're no different than the ants and plants around us, but they are living and dying without making a fuss. Us, we fight it, we fear it... I suppose it's evolution, something to do with what got us to be so dominant in the first place, but sometimes I wonder, if we were like the rest of the planet, wouldn't I have kicked off already? Saved everyone some trouble? Avoided a lot of pain? I know it's "not right." The hubs was trying to talk to me about treatment options and making analogies to diabetes and cancer and all I could think was "survival of the fittest, the flawed ones die, I'm a Flawed, what's the big deal here? Let me go."

Ugh. And I thought I was repulsed enough by my sick self.



Today the hubster is working from home. Obviously I'm still.... "off." Extra therapy appointment tomorrow. Guess we'll see what happens next.

Aftershocks...

"Funny how family sees your for who you were and not for who you are, right?"


I'm thrashed. Less from my mother's visit and more from the discussion with my husband afterward.

The baby was overtired and/or teethy, I was unsteady but maintaining. The hubs was stressed from work/traffic and quickly pushed over the edge by our fussy baby in addition to my post-visit preoccupation. It was not the best time for a "talk."

I felt attacked and blamed, like I was completely at fault for the relationship with my mother-not so much the relationship itself but not moving on or dealing with it differently... I thought I was doing all right, not quite falling to pieces this time like others, but then the hubster started pressing.

Ugh. My body aches, I feel sick, leftover tears still wobble behind my eyes. I know he meant well but his frustrations spilled over on me and instead of a productive talk I went through a much less helpful "wringer."

He's not the only one sick of this dysfunctional status quo that has taken root. He's ready to move on, for better or for worse, but I continue to avoid conflict, keeping my head down; distance and boundaries being the only tactics I can muster.

He asked me what I want from my mother and I couldn't come up with a good answer. I just want to be able to talk to her without being confined to "small talk" or being ignored or shut down. I want her to know me instead of assume that I am the daughter she once knew.

The small talk is exhausting. The awkward silences heavy. Somehow I felt lonelier being with her today than I do on the days that I spend alone...

I feel pressure to make progress, to fix, to make a stand, but I also feel fearful and weak. I understand the hubby's desire for things to change, I feel the need for progress as well but I'm also very well aware that my reserves are quickly depleted by Baby Bananaface, anything beyond just keeping my head above water seems like an impossibility.

For now, I'll just keep bobbing as best I can.

Feeling Bad Sucks

Yesterday was rough, lots of ups and downs and confusion. A lot of the confusion stemmed from a role reversal-the hubbo feeling like crap instead of me!

He came home from work spent and frustrated but things weren't terrible right off. We had some spaghetti, able to laugh off a terrible moment when he spilled a good portion of his plate on our couch and two pillows, we watched some TV, did laundry, and relaxed with the baby.

Later he was still feeling crappy, admitting that he wanted to her bad stuff like pizza and ice cream (exactly what we've been trying to get away from) but we resisted the easy trip to the store for the bad goodies. In a little while he decided on a different type of food therapy, going out to eat, but a crowd at the restaurant set that idea on its head. We ended up going to Trader Joe's and coming home.

I got frustrated, being hungry and having expected some hot food, backing out of the dining out option didn't go over well. So by evening time we both were chewing glass.

After some arguing and tension the hubbo ended up making waffles with strawberries (as I had offered to do earlier in the evening funnily enough) and we regained some sanity. The sanity was short lived though, and a simple act of moving his hand when I climbed into bed caused his mood to bottom out.

It was awful. He felt rejected and unloved and all his frustration at work created a sucking black hole of negativity. Being tired and a stranger to playing the sane one during an emotional storm, I could see that he was being a negative Nancy, his mind piling on bad things like a runaway snowball, but I couldn't figure out what to do. I was paralyzed.

Unfortunately, being paralyzed made it worse since all he wanted was a "there, there" and a hug and kiss. Thankfully, we've worked hard on our communication skills and he was able to say that's what he needed! It took some grinding gears and certainly felt awkward for me (I'm not a super affectionate type-notes and loving thoughts sure but expressing affection directly is tough) but we made it work. Somehow we ended up cuddled in bed and feeling somewhat better, after a long afternoon of simmering badness!

Overall the experience was uncomfortable, frustrating, and exhausting but at the same time it was a wonderful thing to see how resilient our relationship is and how we can work things out even when things get sad and ugly.  Feeling bad sucks, but not pointless!

At the lowest point of our day I remember he said something generalizing my lack of affection-not offering hugs, kisses, or expressing gratitude, affection, desire etc. Oh boy, it felt terrible. Mostly because I felt it true and saw it as a real issue in our relationship. I'm not sure if it's my terrible self-esteem or what, but I almost always feels like he has a secret resentment or disappointment in me, and hearing him say those things seemed to validate my haunting suspicions. It was the first time I thought, "Oh God, maybe we're not going to work out." I remember looking at our desktop background on the computer and thinking, all these gorgeous pictures of a perfect family will just be bitter memories, pictures with "some guy" instead of my love.

While we worked through that moment, chalking it up to a lashing out, a kernel of truth wrapped up in a lot of raw emotion, it's still something we need to work on. I need to work on... I don't want to be a cold wife. Don't want that example to be set for our children. As affectionate and sweet as I may be in my head or on paper, I can be stoic and distant in real life. I have my moments, but they are rare.... I think it's because being expressive (physically or verbally) requires that one be comfortable with oneself, and that isn't a typical day for me!

Busy Busy Busy

Saturday was our baby shower so last week was last minute errands and then the trek south. Thankfully we were pretty prepared with a plan of attack and lists of supplies to be purchased right before the shower but it was still tiring. 

I had my usual pre and post event anxiety (with the post event fallout being worse, as usual) but overall I think things went really well. We had exactly 24 people which meant exactly 6 tables for BUNCO which was exactly what we had prepped for! We got RSVPs from many people but there was still an element of mystery so I was very surprised when our estimate was right on. 

Our Costco food plan went over well and the party went pretty smoothly. We had a great time playing BUNCO and while I'm not a huge fan of opening gifts playing gift bingo seemed to help distract from the awkwardness. 

I think the gifts were a huge source of anxiety for me. Before the shower I was worried about getting what we need for baby and after the shower I was worried about getting what we need. Ha! Lots of cute stuff of course but not a single pack of diapers and only one pack of wipes! My mom and the hubster reassured me that our baby will be taken care of and on a rational level I understand that but the pre-birth anxiety, hormonally crazed, control freak Hannah level resists all convincing.

That said we brought home our first box of Costco diapers and wipes last night :) The wittle diapers are so wittle! I told the hubster he had to check them out and he pulled one out and said, "They're so cute. They're so fucking cute." Haha He also insisted on getting the "Frozen" themed baby wipes. That's my man! Kinda funny since we watched the movie once and weren't that into it, but Disney is Disney.

In other shower-related news my sister wasn't able to attend but gave me a call and heads up and even sent a little card saying she wished she could be there and wishing us love. I would've enjoyed having her but it worked out so perfectly with who showed up and her giving me notice leaves me very un-bothered :)

On the other hand, my "best friend" did not show and did not give notice despite having texted me the night before the shower. I'll admit I wasn't at my finest communication-wise since it was past 8:30 and I was playing a game with the fam but it was one of those conversations (as much as texting is a conversation) that goes on for half an hour without saying anything at all. I was annoyed enough by that but then to realize she blew me off after talking about being there for so many months doesn't sit well with me. 

Funnily enough I didn't even notice her absence until my mother-in-law or somebody at the shower asked about her. Whoops. I guess we've grown more distant than I initially thought! Ever since that doomed visit in October and the subsequent realization that I put out too much without getting enough back I've been withdrawing my commitment to our relationship. I still feel guilt pangs but I think I have a case and it seems like a natural development. Our lives are diverging and have been for some time. It's scary to release one of the only friends I consider myself to have but I try to remember that there is opportunity for new friendships in the future, I just can't see them yet.

In other news, I'm on to weekly midwife appointments and feeling more preggers than ever. Just when I think the belly can't grow any rounder it does and new stretch marks pop up or existing ones seem to expand like they're in a carnival funhouse mirror! I've been feeling zings and zangs in my pelvis and baby's putting more and more pressure on my bladder. Rolling out of bed keeps getting more complicated too.

Overall, it's more of the same. The only thing that I've been worried about is weight and diet. The hubster and I are exhausted and my mood swings have been throwing him for a loop so our usually mild bickering has become more toxic and frustrating. Thankfully we are conscious of the issue and trying to work through it but it's got me stressing and concerned and bombarded with comfort food impulses. I only ate one corndog and half a pint of Ben & Jerry's this week but considering how well I've been eating that is definitely a sign of the times! 

I suppose it's only natural to feel at the end of your rope when you've made it this far into a pregnancy. We're both ready to be done, even if we're not quite sure what we're getting into once the baby is out!

Oh, in other-other news the pets will be getting a round of flea treatments and the house will be worked over before we take all the pets in for more worm treatments. We thought we nipped it in the bud but now the vet tech is thinking we have tapeworm not roundworm (so what was the point of the fecal sample testing, may I ask?) and they all have to go in for a shot of some kind. We don't have a flaming flea problem, the pets don't even seem that itchy, but it's been such a mild winter, who knows? I haven't seen any but then again, they are fleas.

Here's a pic from this weekend with my pumpkin :)