Tag: mental-health

Life, Love, Parenting

digging out of the darkness

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He won’t remember the two weeks leading up to Halloween when I was realizing the decrease in medication was affecting me more than I thought it would. He won’t remember the dive back into self doubt, self hate; the constant desire to sleep, or cry, or runaway. He might not even remember that we slept at my parents’ house more nights than we did at our own. I pray he doesn’t remember all the times I was uncharacteristically short tempered with him.

He will remember that we snuggled a lot more than we had since the beginning of school. And he will remember that I worked hard with his Lela to make him the costume he requested for the school’s storybook parade and Halloween. He’ll remember that we still made it to school (both of us) and soccer practice and games. He’ll remember the love.

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He’ll remember the smiles and that they were sincere because of my love for him. Because he’s what keeps me going most days. Him and the support I’ve surrounding myself with near and far. I know my anchors…though, I’m not sure all of them know they’re anchors.

All I can do is pray that I get it together before he does start remembering the dark shadowy days for what they really were and not the masks I tried to create to protect him from it all.

Life, Love, Parenting

A Golden Day

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Today was a small shiny snip-it of a GOLDEN day for me.

(Don’t know what I’m talking about, refresh your memory about my blog title here.)

So often I doubt my mothering skills. I agonize over how much time I’m NOT spending with T helping to develop his brain and knowledge. I agonize over having to ask for help with his homework because I literally can not be there after school every day. I feel guilt for someone else having to pick up my slack. I feel guilt because my decision to go back to school takes away my time to be his mom, to be his BEST mom.

Is anyone else making me feel guilty? NO! I think my mom LOVES being teacher again and getting to be there while he learns to read and amaze at his intelligence.

But I still feel it. I still question my EVERY parental decision. Dave came to visit before heading up to the “Great North, eh” and I couldn’t wait for him to have T read out loud to him – all the while wondering if he would feel I hadn’t done enough.

Does he EVER, for one second question my devotion to our son and the hard work parenting (mostly alone) is? NEVER! If anything he’s be overly encouraging and constantly telling me how proud he is of me (I still struggle to accept these kinds of complements).

But today. Today was MARVELOUS! Today I walked away from a one on one conference with T’s K5 teacher thinking “Jess, you’re doing awesome!” And that was by the time I got to the car and excitedly called Dave to share all the awesomeness she had just shared with me. While she was talking, it was more a “Oh, wow, maybe I’m not totally screwing up on a regular basis…maybe he isn’t suffering from my hurried ‘here, T, copy these words while mommy fixes dinner’ or ‘hey, bud, let’s think of all the different ways we can count to 20, 50, 100’ over breakfast since I just remembered there was that second part to “homework” and we didn’t do it last night….”

It was a truly amazing little snip-it of golden. And after the last couple weeks of feeling like the crazy in my brain was going to burst from realizing that maybe I am feeling a little bit of a difference because of the med decrease – I NEEDED THIS! I’ve been proud of him a million times since he was born.

Today I was proud of me too.

Life, Scatter Brained

A big deep sigh…

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I definitely thought I had published a post a week or two ago. I guess I didn’t. I think it had something to do with getting back to blogging as a means of therapy for myself. Letting out some of the crazy (and some of the more sane) thoughts that run through my brain 24/7. Okay, not all of them. No one else needs to know my daily schedule down to the minute. If I wanted to do that I’d be on Twitter. But I don’t, so I’m not. But I digress…

I need to write out my thoughts. I need to release some of them – the ones I’m brave enough to share. It’s really scary to lay it all out on a screen, and even scarier to hit publish. But it also feels great afterwards when you know that you’ve just done something SO BRAVE.

For a person constantly struggling from depression and questioning her every decision – having a small feeling of accomplishment can go a LONG way to boost me up emotionally in the right direction. I start to think “Well hey, I just had the strength to do that, clearly I can conquer the world now!”

Ok, maybe not to that extreme, but I do feel better and think more positively. Until the next negative thought creeps in.

Did I mention I’m in my first semester in nursing school? It’s hard. As in REALLY, truly, the hardest thing I’ve tried to accomplish, maybe, ever to date. I have help. Boy, do I have help! But, it’s still hard.

Did I also mention that I decided now was THE time to lower my dose/possibly completely get off my meds? What.Was.I.Thinking? I’m terrified after reading that I could dive into a deeper depression than when I started as a “side effect”. So, in order to surround myself completely with anchors, I told my family (ha! And now YOU!) and actually confided in a couple of my instructors. I mean, they are nurses and there to help us be the best we can be…and they might start to wonder what’s up if I start coming to class wearing pjs and puffy eyes because I was weepy for some unknown (to me) reason. Because I won’t miss class…but clearly personal hygiene would be an indicator that I’m slowly trying to stay in bed, all day.

That’s my update. This is my big sigh – the moment I sit here for a second and consider to hit publish or not.

Life, Love, Parenting, Scatter Brained

Bad blogger, bad!

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I’ve always been one. I mean this is the umpteenth time I’ve started a blog, gotten pretty good and then slowly let it slide to the back-burner. Please don’t think for one second I haven’t thought, “man, this would make a good blog” or “I should write about this feeling” because I have, so many times!

Sometimes the issue is that I’d like to write about something (OH WOULD I) but because my blogs are public, there’s no way I could write about a certain situation (and the feelings it created) without people knowing what, where, when, AND worse! who I was talking about. It’s a little frustrating because really, so much I want to write about!

I’ll sum up the last few months with one word: S T R E S S F U L.

  • I started classes in May about a week after we arrived.
  • The rental is not as ideal as I thought it would be.
  • I desperately wanted a new puppy.
  • I got said puppy, fell in love, Boo became less stressed, but I became more stressed.
  • I finished 4 classes this summer with a B+ or better.
  • Dave deployed.
  • T was enrolled in pre-K: all day, every day. Where is my baby?
  • I started Fall semester: retaking Microbiology (because my excellent grade of B+ is “too old”) and I’m taking an Old Testament class (oh yeah, I’m enrolled at a private Christian college…more of a challenge than I expected)
  • Deployment has been SO MUCH MORE stressful in extremely unexpected ways.
  • T misses his daddy and San Diego in very expected but heartbreakingly painful ways

I don’t know how I would be doing so well in school if it weren’t for my parents. I wish I could take them out to dinner to say thank you, but I know they wouldn’t let me, and let’s be honest, it wouldn’t be enough to really sum up all they have done to help T, Dave and me out.

The positives? I feel closer to Dave emotionally, spiritually, romantically, etc. now more than ever. Some how we have been able to be each other’s rocks of support from thousands of miles apart. Emails, calls, Google hangouts: they’ve been a true blessing over the last few months. It has been amazing to see just how connected to Dave T had become in the glorious year we actually got to spend together in San Diego. (Also, heartbreaking, but I’m trying to focus on the positives…) Sporadically, I have been reminded of the awesome friends we have made over the last few years in our military journey together. These reminders have always come at truly needed time.

In any case, I’m trying to find center and get back to a routine that involves more time for NON studying me-time. I’d like to think that will happen before Christmas break. 😉

Uncategorized

It begins…

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I have often been thanked for what I do as a spouse of a service member. It makes me feel awkward every time because, well, I’m not the one actually doing the service and because I’m not unique. There are thousands of other spouses that came before me, and will be living this life after we are finished.

Some times family members and friends will say how proud they are of me, of all I deal with, and get through “on my own.” This also makes me feel awkward because, again, I am not unique.

But yesterday. Yesterday was one of those very few days in my “married to the military” life that I can look back on and say “Hell freaking yes, I’m a strong woman!” and stand in awe of myself.

This post isn’t about patting myself on the back. It’s really more about highlighting what so many of us spouses do in the moment and almost forget to say “Hey, you’re doing a great job, keep it up.” to ourselves!

I woke up yesterday, got dressed “nicely” (as in, didn’t wear yoga pants and an old college t-shirt), packed up my school bag and headed to class. Sat through 2.5 hours of College Algebra desperately trying to stay focused on what we were learning versus where I wanted to be: back home eating one last breakfast with him and T.

When I arrived back home he told me his flight had been delayed. Horray! And, ugh. More time together. More time to stare at each other and walk around the house in circles awkwardly because, well, do we try to squeeze in play at the park? Do we go to lunch? Do we just stay here? What more can we say that hasn’t been said?

Finally it’s time to head to the airport. The drive was ridiculously faster than normal and now he’s got a lot of time to wait. Well, do we park? No, you want us to just drop you off…okay…well, crap. Am I ready for this? Is T ready for this? Is he ready for this? Are you ever ready for this??

No, nothing prepares you. It doesn’t matter that for a little while longer we can call whenever we want or “Skype” or whatever. THIS is the moment when that physical connection ends. And nothing prepares you. Not even if you’ve done it three times before…this time is new.

And it sucks. All over again. Only this time there’s this poor kid who just wants to go to the water fountain inside the air port and doesn’t understand why you’re trying to cut this whole “goodbye, see you later” thing as short as possible because you’re about to freaking lose it and you can see he’s about to lose it and you swore you’d never lose it in front of him and “AHHHHHHHHH” I just want to scream! One more hug, one more kiss, no, really one more hug and kiss….okay, I dare you Mr. Airport security TSA dude to come tell me to move my car, dare you.

But I have to. I have to put T back in his seat, I have to put the car in drive and drive away. It feels like I’m physically ripping my heart in two. I’m not being dramatic and for those of you who have experienced this, you know I’m not.

Why? Why does it feel this way? Well, probably because of that nagging, horrible thought in the back of both of your heads. The reality you know exists but don’t want to say, or even think about…but as I drove home from the airport it was hard not think of that reality: what if that was the last hug and kiss, touch, fingers linked? What if that was it?

Well that’s why I put something other than yoga pants on. Because he knows I know he knows that’s what I live in 95% of the time, but can you imagine if that was the last physical image he had of me? Comic relief, anyone?

Truth is, sure, I know I “signed up” for days like this when I chose to start dating him. That doesn’t mean it still doesn’t suck and isn’t hard! It doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to start crying because I reread that encouragement card he left me, or looked at those two new mugs he bought me, or, well, saw there were still deli meats in the fridge for his sandwiches… yes, deli meat got the water works rolling. How about the conversations I know I’m going to have over and over again with T when he starts asking when Daddy is coming to visit again. I can’t wait for those…not. Thankfully he’s such a sweetheart that I know I’ll get a hug and kiss and snuggle if he sees I’m sad…but I don’t want to be sad in front of him, too much. I want him to know I’m strong and here for him to lean on…

And so we’re back to me patting myself on the back. Because in the 10 glorious days our little family was together again, I went to EVERY scheduled class, did EVERY homework assignment, and while my grades may have faltered ever so slightly, I still stayed committed to what has us living apart for nearly three extra months than necessary before he deploys and Lord knows how many after he returns.

I got up this morning, put on my oldest pair of yoga pants and an old favorite college shirt, packed up T’s overnight bag, got him to my parents’ made it to class, came home, changed, took care of finalizing T’s enrollment into the school he’ll be attending this fall, went grocery shopping, came back changed, grabbed my chemistry books and lap top, took groceries to my parents’ (for T), ate dinner with them and made it to class. And you know what? When I step outside of myself and look at the last 48 hours, you know what I see? I see someone I hardly recognize. Because in the moment I feel like I can hardly go on without curling up in a ball and just letting myself cry it out, but I don’t, because I can’t. And you know what? I think that makes me pretty darn awesome.

And on that note, I’m going to go feed the Boo, who clearly can’t go another minute without dinner, finish my math homework, study for the test I have tomorrow, and watch Les Miserables so I can have a good cry. Because I freaking deserve it.

Commitment, Life, Love

Commitments: life, love, being a parent…

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I thought this would make an appropriate first blog post for this little space of mine. For the obvious reason: creating this blog means I’m making a commitment to keep up with it; and for a few not so obvious reasons. I’ll elaborate.

A few weeks ago I was listening to NPR and there was a man talking about his stance on abortion. He didn’t believe in abortion but he was pro-choice. His stance is essentially the same as my own. Being NPR of course they had people from both sides on to debate. This man though was offering up some really great ideas on how to meet in the middle of the debate. It was a good discussion, in any case.

This post is not actually about abortion in any way, at least not directly.

It is about commitment.

When I decided to date Dave, I made a commitment to him in my heart and mind to be faithful to only him and see where our friendship could go. Obviously, it developed into love and marriage and now a little family to share our love with. Before God, some family and friends we made a vow to each other for life.

In loving Dave and choosing to be with him I made a commitment to his career. This commitment was not immediately clear to me, but after a couple of moves I realized that while it may have been his dream to be a Marine pilot and not mine, his career had a very direct impact on my life. It hasn’t always been easy to be that selfless.

Every day I make choices that impact my life: will I eat badly, will I exercise, how fast will I drive today, how much will I drink? I’ve made the decision not to smoke, use drugs, etc. These are commitments I make for the betterment of my healthy and well being.

I’m desperately trying to commit myself to becoming a nurse!

But the biggest, MOST selfless commitment I could have ever made was the day I peed on a stick and it showed two lines instead of one. I committed to allowing life to continue. In that split second of chaotic thoughts running through my brain, terminating the little lima bean sized being inside of me was not one of them and therefore, I committed to his future. That commitment didn’t make me a parent though.

That commitment came later when I decided that I would keep him as mine. This may seem an obvious decision given that I was in a pretty solid marriage (3.5 years in by the time T was born), but hear me out. So many girls and women out there decide to give a baby up for adoption for many different reasons. It wouldn’t have been unheard of for a young married couple to decide not to keep a baby. We did, and therefore in that decision, we committed ourselves to being parents.

There were the obvious things I had to do, keep my body healthy so I could ensure his development was the best I could physically and biologically offer. But then there were the other decisions, ones I’m still realizing we are making on a regular basis. Being a parent is HARD. And being a first time parent is really, really hard. Sure, there are books out there to help guide you, but NO child is exactly alike. And therefore, you will take that information and advice from the books, your childhood upbringing, your parents, your other parent friends, etc… and have to STILL figure out what’s best for your individual child.

Every single day I wake up and decide to stay committed to being the best parent I can be for my son.

This morning was rough. Why are you waking up at 6:30 am? Mommy’s alarm doesn’t go off for another hour. No, the sun is not up all the way, you are seeing things. Please, please go back to lay down. Do you want to snuggle? No, you can not have a snack, that isn’t breakfast. No, you can not play Mario…well, maybe you can. Can you play until you hear mommy’s alarm (now only 30 mins away)? Mommy’s alarm hasn’t gone off, buddy, what do you need? Oh, you’re hungry. Go get an apple. No, you can’t have a snack, you can have a banana. I don’t care that you don’t want a banana, snacks aren’t breakfast.

And now I’m up. Because there never really was any point in trying to stay physically in bed. Was I “Awesome Mom” this morning? Well, no, no I wasn’t. I was grumpy Mom. I let my son play a video game before going to preschool. I did not give in and give him a snack but if I’m honest, I may have if it were Saturday. Because things like that always seem more okay on the weekends, don’t they?

I know that I’m not really a bad parent. I can see that from a big picture view. There is no such thing as the perfect parent, I know that too. But I do question decisions I make as soon as I make them. I feel such a responsibility for his life, as I should, and wonder how decisions I make today will affect his tomorrows. He is our “test-baby” – we will learn with him and if he ever gets a sibling, that sibling will probably have an easier go of it at times because Tarleton was our teacher. Sometimes I feel guilty for that.

No matter what decisions I make, we make, as parents one thing is for sure: we are undeniably, unequivocably devoted to loving this little human combination of the two of us. Maybe he is a little spoiled, darn that cute face of his! Gets us almost every time, almost.