Because I Told My Therapist I Would Write More...

I wish I knew then what I know now – knew the things I would encounter, the emotions I wouldn’t understand, the advice I would CRAVE. I wish I had queued up a million questions for my mother and forbade her to die until she answered every single last one of them. I wish I had listened to the stories of what I said when I was three, five, eight. I don’t remember those things…the ones that seemed insignificant to me – I was trying so desperately to grow up, not to relish each painful, demoralizing moment.

I see the other side of the coin now. My kids will ask a question, display a behavior, act out in some way, and it makes me pause. I wonder what that means in the grand scheme of their character. I wonder if it is learned, experimental, natural… Did I do that? Was I like that? Were my brother and I like that? How did our mom LET US LIVE PAST 5?

In the car today, after picking up the boys, we were inundated with non-stop noise from both Roark and Cole. They were not saying anything – just trying to get a moment’s notice – some validation that we missed them, cared about them, cared about one of them more than the other one…something. And they clearly were not getting what they wanted. It escalated quickly, causing me to go crazy for 5 minutes of silence which was never to be experienced. It was almost as if they were feeding off of the frenzy of mind-madness I had brought home from work with me. They saw a weakness and went for it. The torture implement was their non-stop noise and poking at each other. All through dinner, all through errands, all the way to an hour early bedtime because I may have killed them if they were awake for one more minute.

I sit here now thinking about what happened… about the testing and trying that the boys put us through and I wonder where I will ever get a leg up. At what point do they decide it isn’t fun to mess with parents anymore? At this point, it is 9:30pm and I am just diving back into hours of work, and by now, I have no patience to think clearly through anything. I just want to veg, go to sleep and not dread tomorrow.

They Just Don't Care

I find myself annoyed with the boys more than I think I should be. They fight, they test me, they complain constantly, they know no other volume than AS LOUD AS THEY CAN TALK/YELL. I don't know if it is that they are five, that there are two of them, that they are boys, a combination of those, or if it's me. God, don't let it be me...

Spend an hour in my home and you will definitely hear one (or all) of the following):

• Take that back in the kitchen
• Cole, CUT THAT OUT
• Roark, we don't use bathroom words when talking about people
• STOP HITTING HIM
• Quit kicking your brother
• Don't tell me NO!
• Go to your room.
• I will NOT ask you again.
• Use your inside voice please.
• USE YOUR INSIDE VOICE.
• LOOK AT ME.
• If you don't use your inside voice, I will put you outside.
• No - You cannot go outside.
• Dude, stop yelling. I am right here.
• Food. IN THE KITCHEN.
• What did you JUST SAY????
• Leave that alone.
• Put that back.
• That is not yours.
• Go to the bathroom before you wet yourself. Good grief!

I have a sticker system (bribery) that I use when they are respectful and kind all day. They are not getting very many stickers lately. They also don't appear to care. I am beginning to think that five year old boys have a type of dementia that renders them unable to associate behavior with punishment/rewards. They also seem unable to remember ANYTHING I tell them for any length of time. Or...they just don't give a damn. How do I make them give a damn?

Boys... AHHHHHHH

5 year olds argue a lot. With each other. With their parents - namely me. Yesterday Cole actually told us that he thinks we don't know anything and his friend Caden in Kindergarten knows EVERYTHING. I didn't remember these things starting so young. I remember thinking my mother knew nothing...but I really thought that started later. With the girls, they hit that mark around 11 and never really grew out of it.

I have also found that school has an additional, yet related "benefit" - the boys will believe ANYTHING their friends tell them. "Montana said his dad stabbed his mom", "Caden said he pulled out someone's eyeballs". They all have a morbid, ridiculous theme, and I kind of hate public school now. Also other kids. Sometimes even mine.

Heavy Drinking

Question posed during a routine health questionnaire: How many drinks per week on the average do you consume?

Outcome: You may have an problem with alcohol. More than 1 drink a day on average could indicate alcoholism.

Thoughts: What happened to one glass of wine a night is a good thing? ONE MORE drink than that and you are an alcoholic?

Todd found an article on CNN.com that supported heavy drinkers - apparently stating that they are healthier than light drinkers. I don't know the context, but the overall I believe his point was that we can find a study to support any lifestyle people want.

Lucky to Have

Depression and anxiety is a funny thing. Not as in "haha" - more like "wow, so everyone doesn't feel like this?"

I have had a lot of life changes lately. SLE / Lupus diagnosis. Mother in law with Alzheimer's LIVING WITH US. Me taking care of mother in law. A new job. A lot of travel. All of this led to some decisions that I regret and behavior I was not very proud of. I don't blame depression, yet it made it hard to come out of all of this unscathed.

I am a social misfit. I don't mind putting on a "work" personality when needed, however it is more of a protective coating, to keep me from harm. I don't like to get close to people, and as a result, I do not have many close friends. I have some - and I love all of you dearly. However I am so very careful to share intimate details of my life for fear of being judged. On the other hand, I will listen to your life stories and hold them near to my heart. I am a great listener...it is sharing that I find difficult.

The previous conversation took place with my therapist. Todd and I began seeing a marriage counselor and I am also seeing him individually. Apparently I have a lot things to talk about... he wants to see me weekly. This is good and bad. Good because I think it is healing. Bad because it takes me to a very uncomfortable place and turns my anxiety up to 12.

About 2 weeks ago I hit what I imagine is rock bottom. I took a handful of pills and hoped to never wake up. I totally failed, because it only resulted in a good night's sleep...however I knew that I need help. I had felt like that before, yet had managed to pull out of it - had somehow been able to find my way out of the abyss. Not this time.

You see - I am a very successful, self-sufficient person. I can take care of my children. I took care of my mother when she was sick. I took care of myself when I was a kid and my mom worked all the time. I don't need help. EVER. This dark depression...this hole in my soul - it was hard to deal with and even harder to admit I couldn't handle on my own. It made me feel weak.

I started on Lexapro and Xanax - in fairly high doses. I have moved to Zoloft and Xanax and think I am starting to climb out of the fog, the confusion, the lack of will to just exist. And while I hate the medication, I feel more protected. I feel more equipped to deal with the curves life is throwing at me.

My husband and my friends have been wonderful - and I couldn't thank any of you enough. Just know that I am ok. I am getting better. I will learn to be more open. And I will learn to love this life I am so lucky to have.

What it feels like

"So tell me what depression feels like, how do you know you are not just sad?"

"I feel lonely, and sad...but there is more. I feel like I am all alone, in this deep dark hole, and there is no way out. There is no way out and I don't want to be here. I don't want to be anywhere. And when I feel like that...I don't want to be alive."

5 Year Olds

The boys turned 5 last week...two weeks ago...I don't even remember anymore. Let's just say a while ago. And those first two sentences are exactly what is wrong with me these days. I am ridiculously busy and losing my damn mind.

I have a new job, which I love. I am learning a lot of new things, and applying a lot of things I already know quite easily. I am traveling and commuting and telecommuting. I am single-parenting and sharing the travel times. I am dual parenting and trying to find time with my family. I am struggling with the boys and trying to find free moments to spend with the girls.

I am reaching out to old friends and working on making new ones.

I am working out and eating well. I am also drinking more than I should, but loving it in a sad, needful way.

I love this time in my life, and yet...and yet...it is kicking my ass.

Continual Brain Damage

I have embarked on a new fitness fiasco: Strength and Muscle Training. I am not sure who to blame, perhaps my damaged brain. I want muscles. And not tiny little girl muscles - but hardcore (smallish) back, arm, calf, ab muscles. I don't want to look like a skinny, no-muscle, girl. And so I have adopted The 4 Day Power Muscle Burn Workout Split. If for no other reason than the kick-ass name. Seriously - who doesn't look good doing something titled The 4 Day Power Muscle Burn Workout Split? That's what I thought!

4 days a week you hit about 2 muscle groups. I am going to mix in some running and possibly swimming or biking as well, keeping cardio in the mix. The swimming and biking cause some knee dislocation these days, so we will see how that goes. I really have no desire to keep dislocating my knee after all.

Yesterday was running. Today was Chest and Biceps. Tomorrow is Quads and Hamstrings. Thursday brings another run followed by Shoulders and Triceps on Friday. Saturday is supposed to be Back, Calves and Abs, although I am not sure I can manage that because we have a hell of a busy weekend. Sunday is another run. I may have to double up on Sunday or scrap the weekend altogether.

I think the big push is the fact that I head back to work on the 24th of May and I really want to start a routine I can stick to moving forward. I need to see if there is a participating health club near the office so that I can work out at lunch or in the morning - otherwise it is going to be difficult to get these workouts in. I would have to resort to working out after the boys go to bed, and honestly - I don't know that the gym is opened that late. If only we had weights at the house...

So - the brain damage continues...

Brain Damage

I have sort of turned into a running fool. People who know me would argue that I am already a fool. I don't listen to those people anymore.

I started running 2-3 miles one or two days a week and it was not very motivating. I extended it to 4 miles and realized that it wasn't any more difficult than the shorter runs. Apparently the first few miles are horrible no matter how far I am going. My knee held up, so I increased mileage. I have run a few long runs, and seem to really love the 6-8 mile range. It is difficult enough to make me feel good about what I am doing, yet not so long that I am hurting too much the next day.

Then there is the knee. My left knee is a rebel. I need to get it fixed (or removed for bad behavior...whatever) yet I don't want to deal with that right now. So I continue to abuse it and hope they can repair the damage when I give in and go back to the doctor. For now, I find it quite useful to medicate before and after a run with copious amounts of advil and the occasional vicodin - the latter only after a run and typically at night to sleep after a long run. I feel 80 years old on the days that it hurts, and yet I keep running.

I think I have brain damage.

I have been looking into half marathons and marathons again. I have run a few in the past and I cannot quiet the voice that wants to do it again.

See? Brain damage.

I have my eye on a marathon this December in Dallas.

Tents and Time

The little Vegas vacation didn't happen. The whole losing-the-job activity sort of put a damper on many plans. Instead - we went camping for a night. Mother in law has not exactly been anything close to self-sufficient so it was pretty much all we could manage without putting her in respite care, which is quite expensive.

We chose a primitive camping area that required a fairly good hike out, leaving civilization behind. It seemed like a good idea at the time. However we failed to check the weather report and ended up in a tornado. That was an experience I do not soon want to relive. I would be fairly happy never having lived it the first time around.

It was nice to spend time alone - no kids, no mother in law (yet another kid really), no pets, no work, no computer, no cell phone. Just us, wine and conversation and it was wonderful (all the way up to the part where the wind split a tree, it fell on the tent, and broke the tent poles - resulting in a flood in our beds).

I really think conversation is one of the first things to go in marriage when there is an abundance of things going on all around. Soccer and baseball and bills and baseball and work and school and a million other things flying around making it hard to dedicate time to working on a relationship. And the funny thing is that you don't always realize it until you have time to spend together and suddenly WHAM! It hits you right smack in the face - you have not really completed a full sentence without being interrupted by a 4 year old in MONTHS. How does that slip by without being noticed?

Parenting is work. So is marriage. Both are totally worth the work mind you. But damn, are they work. Even when they are great, they take care and commitment and sometimes it is hard to find time to feed that part of our lives...don't you think?