I really want to get back to writing. I miss having a creative outlet.
Just wanted to get some feelings down now, but Baby X has consistently woken from his nap whenever I have opened up Blogger.
Here goes nothing.
With Baby X over a year now, it's kind of crazy. I know I have love in my heart for more kids, but realistically I don't think I could handle more. My depression and anxiety just can't seem to be managed well. Exercise helps with the "big feelings" as I call them around here, but I've been sidelined with the worst back injury of my life since mid June and it's crushing my spirit (and my disc, too).
I was driving back from errands today, Kiddo D at a camp and Baby X briefly calm in his seat. It was a respite from his shrieking and my negotiating in the stores and the parking garage. My sunglasses were cloudy and smudged with tiny fingerprints. Baby X loves to pull off my shades and then forcefully "put them back on for Mommy" which entails jamming the arms into my mouth/nose/eyes and holding them there. It's cute. It's silly. It makes every pair bend and smudged.
I smiled. And I haven't been doing that much these days.
He doesn't sleep well. It's been getting better, but I'm still exhausted most mornings... hell, most days, all day. My coffee intake has skyrocketed in the most literal sense. I go through coffee beans like a newborn and diapers. Or a toddler with toilet paper. Or a kindergartner with liquid soap or toothpaste.
I thought that at this stage in the game I would have had a better handle on two kids. That I'd be less bitchy and have found more of a rhythm, as the saying goes. Mind you, miracles don't happen, so I'll ALWAYS be part bitch, but... ya know, less grumpy and quick to go off on Kiddo D.
Not sure if I have mentioned here before, but antidepressants seem to make me incredibly sick. I have multiple chronic conditions, including one that holds medication sensitivity as a symptom. I've done enough therapy to teach classes and write hardcover books. I mean, the classes would suck and the books wouldn't sell, but I COULD probably do it. There is essentially a holding pattern of sticking through it all, but no real improvement in sight. Not here, not in the horizon, not in the far-distant future. And that's sad. I used to think apathy was so lame... giving up. But there are certain realizations I have made now that just ARE. I'm certain my mood and anxiety will ebb and flow. There will be better days and weeks and months, and the not-so-great ones. I wish there were a magic pill that would help it... reduce it... perk me up. But I have tried almost all of them. NO JOKE. My file is a thick one, spanning decades and provinces. I am a health insurance company's worst nightmare.
But the physical side effects are intolerable. Not even just the first few weeks. It seems to get worse the longer I am on the medication, and then coming off of it it just HORRIFIC. Brain zaps and nausea and wishing death would make it stop because it's so physically uncomfortable and debilitating.
I tried a bunch of meds when Kiddo D was a baby and toddler. I was always feeling sick. It was no way to live.
Now, I have two kids to take care of, so feeling physically ill every day, even if my mood is slightly elevated, is not worth that trade off. Exercise is my best tool, but it's a tough balance between overdoing it and feeling more exhausted, and moving enough to put a dent in the stress hormones and anxiety.
I hope my kids don't look back and think I was a fool for not medicating. That my prissiness and short temper aren't a life sentence for both of them for therapy. I keep trying to be more patient and less RAGE-FACE with Kiddo D. I don't know that I am succeeding.
I always have brain fog, I can't focus, I'm SO SO SO sensitive to noise. It makes the agitation go to unbearable levels. I want to give Kiddo D my attention, but Baby X is NEEEEEEDY and curious and gets into EVERYTHING. I can't look away. So I hope, in my heart, that as he gets less motivated to kill himself at every given opportunity, that some semblance of giving both kids equal attention will come to be.
He's awake now. I should go.
But I do want to say... I am grateful. I am grateful I have these two wonderful, healthy, intense children. I am grateful I get to spend my time with them. I wish I could be a better version of myself. It's so sad to be in therapy and uncover all the layers and layers of shit you were subjected to as a child. For the therapist to say that you're doing incredibly well considering what you're dealing with. But to still fall short in so many ways.
I love my family with all of my cracked, duct-taped, dusty heart. I enjoy the moments when I can make them laugh. So so so deeply. I want to enjoy these days as much as I can. I want to be there for them emotionally - support them POSITIVELY, ask about their day, about their feelings, be able to focus and HEAR what they are saying, and often what they aren't saying, too. Sincerely. I don't want them to act in a false way to make me happy. I need to embrace the fact that they are their own little people. It's so hard. And we model what we know from when we were little. I have so much unlearning and so much learning to do...
I hope I figure it out for their sake... and soon.
______________________________
Pin It Now!
Just wanted to get some feelings down now, but Baby X has consistently woken from his nap whenever I have opened up Blogger.
Here goes nothing.
With Baby X over a year now, it's kind of crazy. I know I have love in my heart for more kids, but realistically I don't think I could handle more. My depression and anxiety just can't seem to be managed well. Exercise helps with the "big feelings" as I call them around here, but I've been sidelined with the worst back injury of my life since mid June and it's crushing my spirit (and my disc, too).
I was driving back from errands today, Kiddo D at a camp and Baby X briefly calm in his seat. It was a respite from his shrieking and my negotiating in the stores and the parking garage. My sunglasses were cloudy and smudged with tiny fingerprints. Baby X loves to pull off my shades and then forcefully "put them back on for Mommy" which entails jamming the arms into my mouth/nose/eyes and holding them there. It's cute. It's silly. It makes every pair bend and smudged.
I smiled. And I haven't been doing that much these days.
He doesn't sleep well. It's been getting better, but I'm still exhausted most mornings... hell, most days, all day. My coffee intake has skyrocketed in the most literal sense. I go through coffee beans like a newborn and diapers. Or a toddler with toilet paper. Or a kindergartner with liquid soap or toothpaste.
I thought that at this stage in the game I would have had a better handle on two kids. That I'd be less bitchy and have found more of a rhythm, as the saying goes. Mind you, miracles don't happen, so I'll ALWAYS be part bitch, but... ya know, less grumpy and quick to go off on Kiddo D.
Not sure if I have mentioned here before, but antidepressants seem to make me incredibly sick. I have multiple chronic conditions, including one that holds medication sensitivity as a symptom. I've done enough therapy to teach classes and write hardcover books. I mean, the classes would suck and the books wouldn't sell, but I COULD probably do it. There is essentially a holding pattern of sticking through it all, but no real improvement in sight. Not here, not in the horizon, not in the far-distant future. And that's sad. I used to think apathy was so lame... giving up. But there are certain realizations I have made now that just ARE. I'm certain my mood and anxiety will ebb and flow. There will be better days and weeks and months, and the not-so-great ones. I wish there were a magic pill that would help it... reduce it... perk me up. But I have tried almost all of them. NO JOKE. My file is a thick one, spanning decades and provinces. I am a health insurance company's worst nightmare.
But the physical side effects are intolerable. Not even just the first few weeks. It seems to get worse the longer I am on the medication, and then coming off of it it just HORRIFIC. Brain zaps and nausea and wishing death would make it stop because it's so physically uncomfortable and debilitating.
I tried a bunch of meds when Kiddo D was a baby and toddler. I was always feeling sick. It was no way to live.
Now, I have two kids to take care of, so feeling physically ill every day, even if my mood is slightly elevated, is not worth that trade off. Exercise is my best tool, but it's a tough balance between overdoing it and feeling more exhausted, and moving enough to put a dent in the stress hormones and anxiety.
I hope my kids don't look back and think I was a fool for not medicating. That my prissiness and short temper aren't a life sentence for both of them for therapy. I keep trying to be more patient and less RAGE-FACE with Kiddo D. I don't know that I am succeeding.
I always have brain fog, I can't focus, I'm SO SO SO sensitive to noise. It makes the agitation go to unbearable levels. I want to give Kiddo D my attention, but Baby X is NEEEEEEDY and curious and gets into EVERYTHING. I can't look away. So I hope, in my heart, that as he gets less motivated to kill himself at every given opportunity, that some semblance of giving both kids equal attention will come to be.
He's awake now. I should go.
But I do want to say... I am grateful. I am grateful I have these two wonderful, healthy, intense children. I am grateful I get to spend my time with them. I wish I could be a better version of myself. It's so sad to be in therapy and uncover all the layers and layers of shit you were subjected to as a child. For the therapist to say that you're doing incredibly well considering what you're dealing with. But to still fall short in so many ways.
I love my family with all of my cracked, duct-taped, dusty heart. I enjoy the moments when I can make them laugh. So so so deeply. I want to enjoy these days as much as I can. I want to be there for them emotionally - support them POSITIVELY, ask about their day, about their feelings, be able to focus and HEAR what they are saying, and often what they aren't saying, too. Sincerely. I don't want them to act in a false way to make me happy. I need to embrace the fact that they are their own little people. It's so hard. And we model what we know from when we were little. I have so much unlearning and so much learning to do...
I hope I figure it out for their sake... and soon.
______________________________