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“I CAN’T DO THIS BI POLAR SUCKS”

16 Oct

No fucking shit my friend.

Everytime I think mine is getting better, every time I think that maybe, just maybe this time will be different, the wind changes and down I go. Down into the abyss of sadness, over eating, rage and confusion. Down into a land where I am unsure and misplaced, the land of misfit toys not even good enough for me.

Days like those I start to wonder if maybe I just can’t do it anymore. And if it’s worth it. Why am I blessed with this, or saddled with it? What the fuck did I do to deserve this? The answer of course, is nothing. We have what we’re handed, nothing more or less. But somedays, it makes me wish I believed in god, any god, so at least I could find reason or meaning in my illness beyond “just cause”.

We all want a meaning after all, right?

There are days where I look in a mirror and whisper “I can’t do it. I just can’t do it anymore”. There are those days where I stare too long at the pharmacy in my cupboard, wondering just how much of what would do it.

But then there are days when I crawl and play on the floor with my daughters, and feel only joy at being allowed to play with them, to inhabit their world for just a moment. There are days where the sun filters through leaves dyed red and purple and into my house, turning it into candyland. There are days when it doesn’t hurt to be alive.

You can do it. You can do what a very wise friend of mine said, and tell it to fuck off. Tell that little voice in your head that it’s not real, and it’s not that bad. That pain is transient. Tell that voice that tomorrow will be better, and to make it there.

It does suck. I won’t argue that. But you can do it.

“not wanting to be a mom anymore”

13 Sep

Johnny has a question, on this comment.

We’ve all been in that place where we hate being a mother, where we just can’t take another second of it. But what if your spouse is on the sidelines, trying to make it better, and felt like he just can’t?

What would we say? We complain so often that our partners don’t do enough for us, don’t step up to the plate. But if they do, and we’re still unhappy, what then?

Johnny says he’s lost, and he’s trying to put himself in her shoes….can’t we help him really do that? Is there anything we can do to help him?

“how to irritate people who dont like you”

31 Aug

hee hee hee hee hee

Someone searched for my secret super power. BWAHAHA!

My favorite ways?

  • Sign them up for email newsletters. You can REALLY drive someone nuts with those, since some are impossible to cancel out of.
  • Sing out loud at work. Badly
  • If they’re on a diet, bring in yummy smelly greasy food, and talk about how good it is. (This is especially fun if they’re on a diet and STILL look like shit)
  • Make jokes that are really true. They won’t know if you’re joking or not
  • Make absolutely no effort to get along with them. For some reason, this irritates some people.

I realize that you can’t like everyone, but even when I dislike someone, I will pretend. I act very well in fact. I think it’s rude to be blatantly mean and disrespectful to someone. I dislike many people, but it’s my issue, not theirs.

At the same time, some people just BEG to be irritated. This usually occurs at work I’ve noticed.

“rotting smell after birth”

22 Aug

NOT GOOD.

If you smell like you’re rotting, it means GO TO THE FREAKING DOCTOR.

I mean, come on. If you smelled like you were rotting any other time, you’d go, right?

Lochia shouldn’t smell like rot. It smells like ass, but not rot.

“I am so embarrassed I got my period”

3 Aug

Now don’t be.

It happens to all of us. Its special. (Ok, if you’re lying on the floor bleeding like a stuck pig and wondering if you’re ovaries are trying to come out of your body, you might disagree with me on this point).

And ok, some of it isn’t that special. Like here. It wasn’t very special at the time.

But it built character, and that matters, right?

Here’s the thing. This means you’re becoming a woman. You are leaving childhood behind. I don’t care what all the TV shows say, or the books. This is a signal from your body and nature that you are blossoming into something more. Into a being that can create life, give life. You are learning that your body cannot be governed, not always. It’s magical if you think about it.

Don’t ever be embarrassed to buy what you need. (or, just go get a Diva Cup and be done with it.) Walk out without the double bag and be proud. I was actually more mortified when a cashier put it in double bags for me without asking-why would I be ashamed of a natural process? My body is doing what it should-bleeding to remind me that I haven’t created life just then.

I was embarrassed as hell when I got mine-and annoyed. Because I had no one around me to help make it a celebration of life-the giving and continuance of life, to celebrate my coming of age. My own rite of passage.

Celebrate for you if nothing else. Dance under the moon, run free through dew wet fields-tie into your world as much as you can. Embrace the womanhood that is coming.

There is nothing to be ashamed of. Be happy and strong, and grow into the woman you will be.

“childbirth – stuff you don’t want to know”

1 Aug

Heh. Where to start.

┬áLet’s break down the 5 senses.

Smell:

When you’re pregnant, everything smells odd, and sometimes, awful. Excruciatingly so. People on the bus are magnified until their stench fills your entire being and you want to retch and retch. Food might disgust you. The memory of my father cooking a steak during my last pregnancy comes to mind-the smell and even taste of blood filled my head.

After you’ve birthed your child comes the lovely smell of lochia, magnified if you’ve hemorrhaged. Throw in unwashed human stink and sour milk smell from leaking breasts, and you are a veritable ball of blech that only time can rid you of. I never smelled that wondrous baby smell-I was too busy reeking from the various things dripping from me.

Find good things to smell, to create a barrier between you and the stench. Vaporub comes to mind.

Taste:

Nothing tastes the same when pregnant. Thankfully that comes back afterwards, but then it’s all tied up in memory. I ate X when I breastfed for the first time. I was eating C when I switched to bottles, I had Chinese the first night we were home. Taste cuddles up with memory, and you find stages in your child’s life to be melded to food.

Somethings taste FANTASTIC. I’m intolerant/allergic/whatever to eggs and dairy. When pregnant, I could eat ALL OF IT I WANTED!!! And I did. However, the guacamole/tortilla/bean with bacon soup meal I had one day? NOT a good idea. Just sayin.

Touch:

My entire pregnancies were full of touch me/get away from me. It was a greek drama I swear. During the births themselves, I know my husband was there, but I cannot remember what he was doing for the most part. I’m sure he was touching me, but I don’t remember. What I DO remember are the hands of strangers. My own OB/GYN was on vacation for BOTH of my births 2 years (almost) apart, so I gave birth with no familiar faces other than my husband. This is part of the reason I want to go into midwifery. No one should give birth alone in a crowd like that. No one should have their uterus entered by handS after birth to detach retained placenta either, not without drugs. No one should have to remember that helplessness.

Remember that you can control your birth and surroundings. Your body, your child. Take what is yours. Demand what you can, stand up for yourself. Don’t come to regret anything later.

Sight:

My eyes are already terrible, and didn’t get any better after the birth. But I can tell you, you learn to navigate blind in the night since putting your glasses on makes you stay away. Unless you want to watch the Daily Show at 3 am. Then go ahead and put them on.

I will say that the sight of your child for the first time, regardless how you feel about them, is an incredible thing. I made that! It came from me! now it’s pooping everywhere! You’ll see your eyes, your nose, his mouth. You’ll see years in a moment, and no words could contain or release that. It’s a transcendent sight.

Hearing:

Childbirth is funny-you will hear everything, and nothing. Time will condense into a moment where everyone holds their breath waiting for you to deliver, and yet they’re all screaming at you to push. (Real helpful btw, the screaming) All the intense moments in your life-they build up to this, to the real thing, to the moment of truth where you find the strength you may have never realized you had. This is where being a mother starts-saying you can’t while doing what needs to be done.

And then, they will cry. Personally, I hate hearing newborn cries, but still I remember them taking Rosalyn from me because she had pooped inside, and she was quiet and I remember worrying and realizing how I had counted on hearing that voice.

And then she let loose. How sweet is the sound of life truly beginning.

The stuff you don’t want to know? It WILL change you. Say what you will-say that you won’t turn into a “mom”, that you won’t be uncool or whatever. But to parent, and parent well, you must change in subtle ways. You become stronger, you become a mama bear standing over your cubs, you become a version of you that was never anticipated, but always there, waiting in the wings.

You couldn’t imagine it. I couldn’t. Yet today I sit here wondering what kind of person I would have been without my children. I wonder if I would still feel so remote and distant in the world, so aimless. For me, having children served as a guidepost, a catalyst, for good or ill.

The same might hold for you. No one will tell you this, because it isn’t cool to admit, but suddenly, having the newest “whatever” won’t matter, at least not for the first little while.

But no one will tell you how fantastic of a ride having a child, birthing a child, on your own, without drugs, really can be. Please try it-so many women have such horror stories of their births, of the regrets they have, the voices they didn’t use. USE YOUR VOICE.

Find the answers. Ask the questions. Listen to your body. There really is no stuff you don’t want to know, just stuff no one will tell you.

“Help! My two year old is a screaming monster!”

7 Jul

All I can say is, buy earplugs, and wait it out. But damn, funniest search I’ve seen in awhile.

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