It’s getting a lot brighter around here!

I just spent a few minutes looking through my drafts (my almost posts), and there are plenty of them!  And boy am I sure glad I didn’t finish and publish most of them!  Whew!  I know I’ve gotten deep and dark, and downright whiny in a lot of these posts, but they got nothin on some of the stuff I almost let loose.  A lot of it was venting, and it was good to get it out of my heart, but it also made me a little sad to see how sad, frustrated, and well, depressed I was.  Don’t get me wrong, depression is not an ugly word, but it can certainly make you feel that way.  I used to wince whenever I heard it (when someone was referring to me, of course), and hearing it didn’t make me feel any less depressed – it just made me feel weaker and more miserable than I already was.  Looking back, I was depressed, damaged, heart-broken, and a lot more adjectives I could throw in there.  However, I wasn’t weak.  And I wasn’t the miserable human being I thought myself to be.  It’s taken a long, long time to realize that, but I have, and dare I say, I think I’m actually pretty darn close to happy now!  I owe this to my wonderful family, friends, and ME!  I was so busy being caught up in worry, stress, anxiety, and all kinds of negative stuff that was doing nothing but tearing me down – it just took awhile to realize it.

As I’ve mentioned, I joined a Bible study with my mom (to which my attendance has not been terribly stellar), as well as a Grief Share group.  Both classes are somewhat difficult with our weekend schedules, but I’ve done the best I can.  These have both helped a bit, and they both helped me gather the courage to step outside of my comfort zone and join another.  Mind you, I have NEVER been in a Bible study in my life, and now I’m in three?!  Well, this third group is a little easier to attend, as it’s during the middle of the week in the morning.  A woman that I met not long after we moved here, and one who I absolutely ADORE, posted on Facebook that she was interested in hosting a group in her home and asked who might be interested.  As I began to see the number of women posting comments with interest in joining, my courage began to melt.  Mind you, quite a bit of my recent damage was caused here in this community by a person who is friends with some of these women.  And that person was someone I had, for awhile, considered a friend.  You can’t blame me for being a little gun shy.  Back to the Bible study.  I’m not typically one who is comfortable “sharing” unless I’m, well, comfortable.  The hostess wanted to do a Beth Moore Bible study, and I had heard a lot about this amazing woman, but had yet to read one of her books.  Ultimately, I decided to take the plunge and say “what the heck?”  I was so nervous about going to the first meeting, I didn’t really pay attention to the book we were reading until I grabbed one from her dining room table.  The title:

So Long, Insecurity: You’ve Been a Bad Friend to Us

Seriously?  I don’t think I could have stumbled onto a better group, or better food for my soul!  I’ve been to two meeting so far, and I’m still not entirely comfortable sharing, and I might not ever get there.  However, this woman, Beth Moore, is AMAZING!  I just wish I would have found her a long time ago!  Not sure if I would have read it, so I guess I wish someone would’ve hit me over the head with this book a long time ago 😉   As I said, this is a Bible study.  I am a Christian, and always have been.  Not the best Christian, mind you, but I’ve always kept my faith.  I’ve never really been an evangelistic type of Christian.  I’m not knocking those who are – I’m just pretty private in my faith.  I think out of respect for friends and family with different beliefs, I have never tried to push mine onto them, or make them uncomfortable.  Personally, I find pushy religious fanatics (ie:  we’re right, you’re wrong) kinda offensive, and I tend to steer clear of them.  Enough of that soap box!  I guess what I’m trying to say is that, of course Beth Moore refers to scripture in her writing, but most of her writing comes from her heart, and she’s a person (pretty amazing person, albeit), just like you and me.  She writes about real-life situations, and is very humble when writing about her own experiences and uncomfortable situations.  I have devoured half of the book in just a couple of sittings.  It touches on some pretty heavy stuff, but some pretty heavy stuff I needed to touch on.  I probably could have read it in it’s entirety in just a few hours, but since it’s a little deeper than my usual murder mystery (and my ADD only allows every third sentence to sink in), I decided to take my time, highlight what I needed to go back to, and do the workbook along with it.  Wow!  It is pretty powerful stuff!  Yes, I do feel a little like Bridget Jones with all of the self-help books on my night stand 😉  Jokes aside, this route seems to be working a little better than the pool of denial I’ve been swimming in for nearly a decade.

If you know me well, you are all too aware of how much I DWELL upon just about everything.  It’s exhausting!  I’m not quite sure when I fell into this pattern or if I’ve always been this way.  However, this characteristic has become almost debilitating to me, and extremely annoying to those around me.  My nerve endings finally became so raw that I became perhaps the most insecure person I can imagine.  Insecure.  It wasn’t a word that I would have chosen to describe myself (although it’s apparently been flashing day and night from the neon sign that floats above my head).  Nope.  Here are a few I would’ve chosen:  grief-stricken, sad, stressed, anxiety-ridden, pissed, and yep, even depressed.  Insecure – never even occurred to me (that came along with the denial package I ordered).  Gosh, that word, “insecure”, might have bothered me more than “depressed” at one time!  Now, it really doesn’t bother me much at all.  Perhaps, because an entire roomful of pretty amazing women came together to “share” their insecurities and try to help themselves as well as the rest of us.  Also, a pretty awesome woman devoted an entire book (as well as a chunk of her life) to researching and trying to figure out how we can rid ourselves of this nasty demon.  Mostly, I guess because I know I’m not alone in this.  I guess I’ve felt pretty darn alone for quite some time.  Alone in my grief, lonely because I’m missing my friends and family back home, alone in my anger, lonely in my pity party for one.  This book has opened a big, bright, beautiful door for me – I know that I’m not alone.  And yes, I know that I’ve never been alone, but I have certainly isolated myself from many, including those who love me the most.  This book, along with the Grief Group and other Bible Study (Dealing with Damaged Emotions) have certainly pointed out to me that I am not at all alone.  I’ve certainly become more open to God and his healing, and I truly think that He has helped me because I’ve finally let Him in.  However, knowing that so many of us struggle on a daily basis with some of the same issues, and perhaps we can help one another overcome those issues, is so incredibly inspiring to me!  I love that this book addresses a lot of issues I have kept to myself for fear of someone throwing a straight jacket on me if I ever let it out!  I am so comforted in the fact that a lot of the emotions I have had are actually normal 😉   This book has helped me come to peace with myself and my choices, and I’m happy to say that I haven’t really found myself fretting over a conversation, decision, relationship, etc. in weeks!  That might sound small, but to someone whose life has been controlled by worry and second-guessing, this is absolutely monumental!!

I highly recommend this book to ANYONE, but especially to the women in my life!  I think we all have insecurities of some type, and they do nothing but hold us back!  If anyone is interested, here’s the info!  Have a wonderful weekend!

 

http://www.lifeway.com/Product/so-long-insecurity-youve-been-a-bad-friend-to-us-P005262199

I’m getting there

A lot has changed since my last post, and that’s a good thing. First off, I called bullshit on myself. I have been in such a deep ocean of denial for such a long time, and it was drowning me. I’m finally able to admit that I have been depressed, severely depressed for quite some time. With much urging from my family doctor, I begrudgingly agreed to start taking Wellbutrin for my anxiety and depression. I went to that appointment with an arsenal of pharmaceutical knowledge, and my doctor basically just told me I was a pain in the ass. He agreed that I didn’t need an MAOI – you can’t take anything with those, and if they don’t work, you have to wait at least 14 days to start something new. Point for me! In my best interest , I did admit to him that I had undergone psychological testing (although I didn’t want to), and he spoke with the psychologist. As I expected, she was vehemently opposed to me taking any type of stimulant (to treat the ADHD I’m still positive I have) at that time due to my extremely high anxiety. I was not happy about that at all. As a matter of fact, I got into a teary screaming match with my doctor at my follow up appointment. I’d already bumped up my dose of Wellbutrin (so I could make sure I could sleep at night – who am I kidding – my sleep pattern has been horribly unhealthy for the last 2-3 years). I told him I didn’t want any Xanax or Ativan – I just need to be able to try one of the ADHD meds on the market, as I am still a HOT mess! He said I needed to wait a little bit and make sure I can get my anxiety under control. Needless to say, I left the appointment NOT HAPPY.

As I was too busy acting like a spoiled brat who didn’t get her way, I didn’t notice the gradual, very positive change that was happening inside of me. I was no longer waking up feeling like there was a cement block on my chest (anxiety). As a matter of fact, I would say that my anxiety is 95% under control after about 6 weeks on Wellbutrin. This is HUGE for me. Prior to starting this medicine, I don’t remember a day in the past year or so that I didn’t have insanely high anxiety. I can’t remember a day in the past year that I didn’t have to take deep breath after deep breath all day long just to try and hold it together. I was in such a horrible place that my life was a constant source of stress that I couldn’t escape from. I was short tempered and mean to everyone I loved, and crazy stressed around everyone else, to the point I didn’t feel comfortable anywhere or with anyone. Needless to say, the fact that the chronic stress I was feeling is all but gone actually makes me want to cry with joy! I am a better mom, which is so incredibly important to me. Nothing makes me more sad than the prospect of leaving behind a legacy of pessimism and crabbiness. My kids are happier, and that makes me a little sad (because of what I’ve put them through), but also incredibly happy because I can be the mom they need me to be now. I think everyone, to some extent, takes their bad moods and stress out on those closest to them – I think it’s natural because you can let your guard down around those who love you. I took that to EXTREMES! I have been, for lack of better words, a GIANT BITCH to live with for a very long time. I’m incredibly lucky that my mom and Brian love me so much – I don’t think I would have/could have put up with the amount of shit that I have dished out to them. Again, I’m sad that I’ve treated those people I love the most so badly, but I’m so relieved that I know I can now be the daughter and wife they need me to be. I can see the relief in their eyes in my drastic change in attitude and behavior. I am trying much harder to communicate respectfully with them and it is really helping. Wellbutrin has been a miracle for me – it is certainly paving my road to recovery. I know that there needs to be a lot more involved in that recovery, including therapy. Baby steps.

I still haven’t called the psychologist back. I’m conflicted as to whether or not I should. On one hand, she was the first normal person I have met with regarding my mental health! Big plus! However, I’m still stuck on the fact that I felt she was extremely condescending and not the best listener. Still not sure if she’s the one for me. I know that when I go back to my family doc, he’s going to want to know why I’m still not in therapy. Hopefully, he won’t hold it against me. I know that I need to take this step, but I don’t think I’m quite ready yet. The psychologist told me that in order to heal, I need (1) medicine, (2) exercise, and (3) therapy – none of these are negotiable. I am religiously taking the Wellbutrin daily. However, I have only half-heartedly tried the exercise thing – more in the beginning in order to burn off anxiety (the effects of Wellbutrin were brutal the first week I was taking it – my anxiety was off the charts). I am trying, but only getting 1 or 2 semi-workouts in per week. I am trying to actually schedule that into my day, and I am going to try really hard to stick to that commitment. Baby steps. I think the biggest motivator for daily exercise is the fact that I’ve now gained more than 30 pounds since Mary was diagnosed with cancer last January. Needless to say, I’m a stress eater. That, along with my crazy high anxiety levels and the cortisol that goes along with that, means that I am NOT the poster child for healthy living right now. It’s time to change that.

My reality check came tonight, as I was looking for cute clothes to take on a trip with my hubby this week (which I will get to). 2 pair of pants, TWO PAIR OF PANTS in my closet fit me. That’s it! WTF?! When did that happen?! When did I become a GIANT FAT ASS?!! Seriously, that doesn’t just sneak up on you! I have a closet FULL of cute clothes, none of which will fit on my lumpy, tubby frame right now 😦 Therefore, I’m DONE! I’m done with mindlessly shoving crap in my mouth when I’m bored or sad! I’m DONE making excuses as to why I didn’t get a work out in. I’m DONE short-changing myself! Sadly, I’ve been in such a state of self-pity, telling myself that it’s not fair, after all the shit life has thrown at me, that I’m in this horrible, yucky place. I’ve finally realized that life’s not fair, and that I need to work my ass off if I am going to be healthy and happy, and that’s what I’m going to do! As a matter of fact, I found my inspiration on Pinterest, of all places:

“You are responsible for your life. You can’t keep blaming somebody else for your dysfunction. Life is really about moving on.” ~Oprah Winfrey

This is now the screensaver and wallpaper on my phone and Ipad, so I have to see it several times a day. I need this reminder constantly. It is so true. Life is about moving on. Bad shit happens every day to so many different people. If everyone stopped in their tracks and refused to move on (like I have), the world would be a pretty difficult place to live in. I know that I am responsible for my own happiness, and now that I have caught a glimpse of it, I’m determined to do whatever I can to hold onto it! I feel that the clouds have lifted just enough for me to see the sunshine. Time for me to take the reins and kick my own ass because I know that is what it’s going to take!

I know I’ve been a scary ass BIOTCH to live with, but seriously y’all – it IS your duty (local friends and family) to let me know that NO AMOUNT OF SPANX is going to hide the extra ass I’ve grown! Now that I’m a calmer, more rational me, I am charging you with the job of helping me stay on track! No more fried food (thank God Rodeo is over – did I really eat 3 giant corndogs within a 2 week period?)! No more late night munchies! No more Shack! Mama is going back to healthy eating!

On that note, I’m guessing I need to get my unhealthy butt to bed! Wish me luck!

My next post will include all of the AWESOME stuff that has happened to me lately, I promise!

Just Keep Swimming . . .

Brian and I celebrated our 11th year anniversary this weekend.  It actually fell on a Saturday this year, so we could have hit the town and made the most of it!  However, we spent the entire day with our kiddos, which is not a bad thing at all!  🙂  Samantha had her last game of the season (she cheered this year for flag football), and then we went home and dove into trying to regain control of our home.  Busy bow season, ADD and grief do not make for an organized mommy!  So, the house pretty much looks like a tornado hit it (or 4 – 3 kids and me!).

We (for what seems the eleventy-eleventh time) organized the play room.  Bless my husbands heart, and clear, organized mind – he indulged me in completing one of my ideas.  He assembled a wardrobe that I bought at Ikea and, per my design, hung rods & hooks on the wall and finished with a cute shower curtain to create a “dressing room” for my little divas and their friends (I’m pretty sure Riley digs it too, but he doesn’t want that to get out 😉   ).  I did about 25 loads (I really don’t think I’m exaggerating) of laundry and actually put it all away (which is HUGE for me!).  I really, really hate putting laundry away, but I figured I could at least try to regain some control – at least for Brian’s sake!

After an exhausting day, we decided to, at the very least, belly up to a bar for a cold one.  Yes, I did say that I am swearing off alcohol, but I only had one beer.  It was just so nice getting out with him, even for just a little while.  I really don’t realize the benefit of stepping away from the chaos until I am so overwhelmed that I have to step away (like yesterday).  Everything in my life is overwhelming to me right now – I just wish I could find something that would help with that.  So, we shared an appetizer and each had a beer, and then stopped at the Walmarts on the way home – so incredibly romantic – no doubt about it!  I felt so much better when we got home, though!  I need to push that reset button a lot more often than I do, and I prefer to do that with my hubby.  Life is so rushed and busy most of the time, sometimes it’s difficult to find a moment to just breathe.  I did that last night, and felt a huge benefit from it.  Now, if I could just remember to do that again before I really need it!

We spent today finishing up (well, actually, I still have plenty to do!) our organizing and cleaning, because Brian has invited his boss and team over for dinner tomorrow.  As there’s still quite a bit to do, my stress level is creeping back up.  It’s not too difficult to tell when I’m stressed (because I’m a giant bitch) – because of this and the fact that I’m teetering on the verge of bat shit crazy, Brian waited until tonight to tell me about one of his teammates and his wife.  They have twins.  Twin boys.  8 year old twin boys.  Oh yeah – she’s a NICU nurse too.  Good to know.  Yes, I am extremely grateful that he told me – at least I can try and steer the conversation away from topics that might end with me in  a puddle of tears on the floor.

I’m pretty sure I did not write about what happened in Aruba.  Here’s the Cliff notes version:  we went to Aruba in March on the company’s dime, and it was lovely.  However, I was not dealing with my stress very well at all (that’s about when my HR was peaking at about 105bpm while resting) – I was not handling my friend’s cancer very well, to say the least.  So, I drank a little (okay – I was a lush).  In my defense, I was fortunate enough to share the trip with one of my besties from home (her husband works for the same company), and I made the most of it!  We had dinner with my husband’s team one night – this included his boss and all of the peers that were on the trip, as well as their spouses.  Unbeknownst to me, a very sweet couple had seated themselves across from Brian and myself at the table so they could get kid advice.  It was a pretty intimate setting – as intimate as you can get with 15 people or so.  Thank God we were at the end of the table.  Apparently, because we have 3 young children who are very close in age, they wanted to get some advice.  Their triplets were getting closer to school age, and they were asking about preschool, kindergarten, activities, etc . . .  I’m not sure how he pulled it off, but Brian pretty much caught none of the conversation.  I could feel my fight or flight responses kick in – I felt like I was cornered by something with very large teeth.  It was like she had a check list she was going from.  She, in my opinion, over shared everything from her pregnancy, to the NICU experience (which was absolutely fucking perfect), to the fact that her kids are all fucking perfect with no delays at all.  Please note that this was a really nice couple – we probably would have had fun hanging out with them if my crazy hadn’t kicked in.  I actually started to get tunnel vision, so in lieu of passing out right there, I grabbed my phone and made an excuse about my mom calling, and proceeded to get the fuck out of there.  Brian, still having no clue that anything was wrong, did come out after me.  I tried to explain, but it was clear he wasn’t in the same conversation that I had been.  Don’t get me wrong – he is extremely supportive – he’s just able to “compartmentalize” things in his mind, whereas my mind looks pretty much like the inside of my purse.  He gave me a hug and said no problem in covering for my absence.  I went back to the room and sobbed myself to sleep.  I felt like I’d been run over by a Mac truck.  B promised that no one was the wiser – I still have my doubts.

So, back to the present – I’m sure that my poor husband has been mulling over this situation trying to figure out how to tell me what to expect tomorrow.  He couldn’t have done it any better – he just said it – nice and straightforward, “if you have any Lexapro, you’ll probably want to take it”.  Very true.  Unfortunately, Lexapro isn’t doing a darn thing for me anymore.  I’ll just wear my big girl pants and avoid uncomfortable topics!  I love my husband, and I know he loves me – he has faith in my even when I don’t have it in myself, or I don’t think he would have risked the situation.  I can do this, and probably best without alcohol (dammit!).  I just need to keep telling myself that I’m okay, I got this.  I can live a regular life, with a few hiccups here and there – everyone has them, right?

As my sweet Sami would have told me about 2 years ago, “just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming . . .”  I might need some floaties, but I can do it!

Bo’s Place

My husband didn’t really like where I ended my story yesterday, so I figured I’d better elaborate!

What we need to do is seek help as a family, and the way to do that just fell into my lap last week.

http://www.bosplace.org/about

Bo’s Place is a non profit organization whose sole purpose is to help children (& their families) learn to deal with their grief. There is probably not a place more appropriate for my family right now, and we’re fortunate enough to have it in our city.

I came to learn about Bo’s Place through a very sweet neighbor last week. I’ve loved talking to her so much that I just regret not walking over & introducing myself a year ago! Let’s call her M. M lost her husband this year to pancreatic cancer. She has 2 boys, 10 & 14, who are trying to work through this with her, and they visited Bo’s Place last week. She said that it felt like just what she needed. Me, I’m a little nervous about the group therapy environment. On the upside, my hour long crying jag would seem a little more normal there than at a concert 🙂

I’m going to give them a call today and set up our orientation. Wish me luck!

My heart will be with M & her family & friends as they participate in their first walk for pancreatic cancer this weekend.

The Long and Winding Road

As I was cleaning and organizing yesterday, preparing for a house guest, my hubby called to tell me that plans had changed and we were going to a concert.  A co-worker had offered him tickets to see Paul McCartney and he jumped at the chance!  I was pretty excited, since I can’t remember the last time we had a bona fide date night!  So, I girlied myself up (which rarely happens), and headed downtown with my hubby!  We actually met up with his friend downtown (who was going to stay with us), so it all worked out!

We met up at our hotel for the night and had some munchies and drinks.  I had about 3 glasses of wine, and in retrospect, probably should have stopped at 1.  I’m definitely not an alcoholic – I really don’t drink very often these days.  However, when I do, it’s rarely 1 beer or 1 glass of wine – more like 4.  I’ve definitely been known to overdue it in the past, so it’s not really a shocking change for me.  However, what is happening to me now when I do have some drinks is just not fun anymore.  I guess I really am, subconsciously, trying to “drown” my sorrows.  However, it’s really doing quite the opposite – they are shooting right up to the surface.  I’ve turned into a crazy drunk-dialer – not the funny kind (if there is such a thing), but now I’m just a crying, bumbling idiot.  A few people don’t even answer anymore, and I so don’t blame them.  After last night, I think I’m ready to swear off alcohol, at least for awhile.  It’s definitely not doing me any favors.

When we got to the concert, I was definitely a little buzzed, and in a good way.  I was having fun, singing along and socializing.  However, at some point in the concert (I’m pretty sure when he was singing Long and Winding Road), a switch inside of me just flipped.  I could feel the tears coming, so I excused myself to go to the bathroom.  Instead, I went outside, with the assistance of a very sweet officer.  I wasn’t just crying, I was sobbing.  I called a few friends, and 2 of them were lucky enough to answer and have to hear uncontrollable sobbing on the other end.  This actually was the first time that I’ve cried like that in a long, long time.  No doubt I needed it, but I don’t feel any better today.   Actually, I just feel like I could probably start crying and never stop.  My friends were very sweet and supportive, but I’m guessing they are getting tired of this.  I can’t say that I blame them.  I’m just feeling pretty lost and alone at times, and really not sure where to turn.

I cried for at least 40 minutes – I was sobbing and I just couldn’t stop.  I finally tried to compose myself and get back to my seat, which I did.  However, I really could never stop crying.  I felt like a total freak, but I just stood there, singing along, with tears streaming down my face.  Now, I’ve, for the most part, always been a fairly in-control person (when it comes to expressing my emotions), but something inside of me just felt broken last night.  I’m starting to scare myself a little bit, so there is no doubt I’m scaring my friends and family.  I’ve got to get this shit under control.  I’ve become completely incapable of organizing and rationally processing my thoughts.  I can’t communicate worth a damn anymore, especially to the people I really care about.  I feel like I really may be spiraling out of control more often than not these days, and it scares me.  Clearly, I know this is a problem, a big one.  One that I can’t deal with all by myself anymore.  Then why is it so hard for me to make myself get the help I need?

This morning, I think I might have started the fire I need to get things moving.  I don’t write too much about my kids – at least the ones who are still with me.  I’m not sure why – if I did, I’m guessing this blog wouldn’t be so damn depressing.  They are pretty funny little people, so perhaps I should :).  Well, today, I’m going to share some tidbits about Riley, Colin’s twin.  Riley is 8 now.  He’s in second grade, he is learning Tae Kwon Do, is involved in Boy Scouts, and is a voracious reader.  He’s a moody little guy too – just like his mama.  Sometimes he is the happiest, silliest kid I’ve ever seen, but sometimes a dark cloud shades his happy.  Today was one of those days.  He was just fine getting ready for school, and happy that we got home in time to see him!  However, something set him off after breakfast, and I could never get out of him what it was.  He just became extremely irritable and disagreeable, which then made me the same.  After expressing my displeasure with his rotten attitude, I kissed him, told him that I loved him and wished that his day would get better.  My mom walked them to the bus stop because my mood certainly needed improving by then.  When she got back, she melted into a pile of tears.  On the way to the bus stop, Riley confided in her that he just misses his brother and is having a hard time.  He wanted to know why everyone keeps dying.  This broke my heart.  I know that I’ve been ignoring my own well-being for long enough, but I won’t ignore this.  It’s killing me that my kids are hurting too.  I think I know what we need to do.  More on that later.

I’m trying . . .

So, I haven’t written for a little while, because mainly, I needed to allow myself to escape from the painful emotions.  It doesn’t matter whether I feel prepared or try to ignore them completely – those anniversary dates (Colin and Dad’s birthdays and the anniversary of their deaths) come no matter what and completely knock me over.  I thought maybe this year I could deal with it a little better if I got ahead of it, but nope, doesn’t work that way I guess.  The pain, anxiety, fear, whatever I am feeling, actually becomes quite physical and quite debilitating, and this year was not different.  Actually, maybe worse.  Perhaps, because of the loss of my friend just before.  Not sure why I can’t control it, but I have decided I need help with it.  I’m no good to my kids, my husband, my mom and especially to myself when I feel like that.

Strangely, by the end of the day on Tuesday (the 10th – anniversary of my dad’s death), I felt normal again.  I didn’t do anything different.  It was just like the crappy, horribly wave of anxiety and grief had to wash through me, and then it was gone.  I don’t think this is the normal way to “feel”.  I feel like I have absolutely no control, and it’s a bit scary.  But, since I felt mostly normal that night, I decided to go with it and do some “normal” things.  A friend from high school is in the process of transferring to Houston, and she was in town.  So, she and I planned to meet for dinner the next evening.  It was really nice to get out and have some normal conversation with someone!  I was in a fabulous mood when I got home that night, and hung out with my husband.  We talked about an upcoming trip to Aruba, as well as the Houston Rodeo, which we’ve never experienced before.  I was actually getting ready to text an old friend, who actually used to be my best friend in the world.  She and I haven’t talked much in 5 years – still not sure why, but I’ve finally decided to let it go and try to reconnect.  She and her husband live in Austin, and I was going to invite them to come this way for one of the Rodeo concerts and stay with us.  Seriously, I had my phone in my hand, and she called me instead.  It was eerily strange.  Still in a great mood, I answered with a, “I was just getting ready to text you!”.  In reply, she said, “I have cancer.”  My heart sank.  I didn’t know what to say – I never do in this situation.  I did my best to keep it together by keeping it clinical – asking her about the symptoms and tests.  She is a nurse, and I was about 6 credit hours from becoming a nurse when my son and then dad died, so this made it easier for us both.  I asked if I could visit over the weekend, told her I loved her, and we hung up.  I fell apart.  This is a prime example of life being too fucking short.  I am so grateful she still thinks enough of me to reach out, and I want to be there for her, and I will.  But, we have wasted 5 years – 5 years of memories we could have made.  She doesn’t know my kids, and that breaks my heart.  My kids don’t really know what an important part of my life she has been.  She doesn’t know most of what I’ve done/been through, and vice versa.  However, now is not the time to find out why.

My mom and I drove to Austin on Saturday and stayed a good part of the day.  Her mom was there, as well as her in-laws (they live there – her FIL has Parkinson’s).  It was nice to see her and catch up, but I so wish that awkwardness wasn’t there.  I wish the conversation could be a little deeper, but I’m sure it will be hard for both of us.  Since our visit, she received her biopsy results (from mets in her liver), and it has been determined she has colorectal cancer.  They found an 8mm tumor in her rectum, and will proceed with chemo starting on Monday.  I told her I will go with her whenever she needs, and I will.  I have vowed to try my best to make it quality time, but it’s so hard when I’m tip-toeing around the giant elephant in the room.  I’m not sure which topics are taboo, and don’t want to accidentally bring one up.  See, she just stopped talking to me over 5 years ago.  Not sure why, and I was a mess about it for awhile.  Finally, I had let that go, but I still want to know why.   I don’t have hard feelings anymore – I guess I just want to know what I did or said so I don’t do it again.  Obviously, though, I can’t bring that up – I can’t contribute any more stress to her life.  So, I’ll just do the best I can and be her friend.

So, that was Saturday.  Sunday, I was working in my office when another very close friend called.  She is the wife of my husband’s best friend, Michael.  Michael’s dad was diagnosed with cancer within the year.  He has progressively gotten worse, and has been in hospice care for the past few weeks, so we knew the end was coming.  He was pretty bad, so she told me to let Brian know it wouldn’t be long.  Michael’s dad died the next day, and we immediately made plans for Brian to fly to Indianapolis for the week to be with his friend.  I am so glad he went – it wasn’t really possible for me to go because of the kids, and the fact that Brian’s dad and stepmom were arriving on Friday to visit for the weekend.  Brian felt bad leaving me with all the prep (house cleaning, etc) for the visit, but I insisted he go.  Heather and Michael are probably our closest friends.  They have been through absolutely everything with us.  They are Riley’s God Parents, and we are their son’s God Parents.  We love their kids like they are ours, and they love ours the same.  They are the only ones who really haven’t changed since Colin died.  As my wise friend, Jen, put it, people tend to back off when you are sick or experience a tragedy, and your circle becomes very small.  They were in our very small circle, and they are the only ones still remaining.  When Colin died, they packed up their newborn (6 weeks old, just discharged from the NICU) and came to Ft. Wayne, got a hotel room and stayed with us through everything.  Same when my dad died – they were our rock.  I don’t think we could have gotten through all of that without them, so there was no way I was going to keep Brian home.  I’m so glad he was there with his friend this week – it really makes such a difference.  Family is family, but close friendships like that are just as valuable, even more sometimes.  You can say anything to a friend without being judged – not always the case with family 😉  Heather has told me over and over again how grateful she is that Brian was there.  I wouldn’t have had it any other way.  Losing a parent is losing a piece of yourself.  After I lost Colin, and then my dad, I wasn’t sure that there was much of me left.  The support I received from my close family and friends is what saved me.

Brian got home Friday evening, while we were eating dinner.  His dad and stepmom had arrived earlier in the afternoon.  We’re so glad they are here, but not about the why.  A little over 2 years ago, Brian’s dad was diagnosed with Stage IV kidney cancer.  He had a large tumor in one of his kidneys, and several mets in his lungs.  There usually are no symptoms with kidney cancer, and by the time it is detected, there is usually not much time.  The cancer was discovered in a routine scan for something else, he was not at all symptomatic.  They live in Florida during the winter months, were there at that time (August).  We decided, within the week, to pack up the family and head to Florida.  We made it fun for the kids, and decided to make it Riley’s 5th birthday party.  They live close to Orlando, so Riley got to go to Disney for his birthday, which was great!  Brian’s dad was feeling fine, but was having the tumor removed a few weeks later.  We decided that this was the time to spend quality time with him and the kids, because once he started treatment, no one knew how he would feel.  We all went to Disney, Animal Kingdom and Epcot, as well as NASA and a few other places.  We had a fabulous time, despite the yucky Florida August heat!  I will always be grateful for that week, as I know Brian will be.  Selfishly, my only regret is that I never got that “bonus time” with my dad and my kids.  My dad only knew Riley for the first 5 months of his life, and never got to meet my girls.  However, he loved Riley enough for a lifetime during those 5 months.  I just ache for the fun he would have had with my kids.  But I am also grateful that he didn’t suffer through an illness like Brian’s dad is.  That would have been unbearable to watch.

Kidney cancer has no cure, and it had metastasized to his lungs, so the prognosis was not terribly positive.  He had his affected kidney removed, and his urinary tract problems immediately improved.  His remaining kidney immediately took over at 100%, which was great.  He started his maintenance medication, which is taken orally in cycles of 3 weeks.  It is similar to chemo in that it’s goal is to kill the cancer cells.  Also like chemo, it kills good stuff as well.  He has had bad cycles, and not terribly bad cycles.  They all take a lot out of him; however, they seemed to be working well.  After 4 or 5 cycles, his lung mets seemed to have disappeared.  He had to take time off here and there from it because of the side affects, and at some point, his body won’t be able to tolerate it anymore.  Brian is spending as much quality time with his dad as he can, and I am so glad for that.  The last several cycles have been difficult for him, and it is showing a bit physically.  Brian is a very positive person about 99% of the time, so he is keeping that attitude throughout his dad’s treatment.  He is not in denial, but he hasn’t gone to the “dark side” that I am so prone to visiting.  I stayed up way too late last night working in my office, and then sat on the couch outside of my bedroom (where my in-laws are sleeping), and listened to my father in law cough until about 4:30am.  I allowed myself to slide right back into the panicky, anxiety-ridden freak mode I have been in much too often lately.  I sat on the couch and reviewed CPR notes just in case.  NONE of this is about me, so why can I NOT handle it?  I need to be strong and supportive, my husband’s rock.  But that ridiculous sea of anxiety has planted itself right back inside of my chest cavity again.

So, here is where I need to start becoming a helpful, supportive, functional human being again.  I need to get some help.  I have done the SSRI thing (Lexapro, and then Celexa), and they definitely helped.  However, the Celexa finally stopped working as it should.  The anxious feelings were creeping back, but I still had that flat affect side affect that comes with those meds.  For me, it pretty much took away my emotional response.  For awhile, that was probably helpful.  However, I finally decided that I needed to be able to feel again.  Someone close to me died last year, and I couldn’t even cry.  That was enough for me –  I need to be able to feel human emotion, so I just stopped taking them.  I was okay for awhile – even handled the move okay.  However, slowly but surely those terribly overwhelming emotions are coming back at times.  Maybe they are just playing catch up, but sometimes they are just too much.  I met with a family doc a couple of months ago for routine blood work.  I brought up my issues and asked about possible alternatives to what I had been taking.  In short, this might have been the worst doctor in the universe.  She flat out told me that my son and dad died over 7 years ago, and I needed the meds then, but now its time that I learn to deal with emotions on my own.  This, of course, made me feel like a whiny, weak drug-seeker.  More proof to the “worst doctor in the world” label:  she lectured me on my risk for Type 2 Diabetes when she saw that I had had Gestational Diabetes with my last pregnancy.  I told her I was aware of the risk, and I knew I needed to control my diet and get exercise – I also told her that I had lost 35 pounds in the last 5 months.  She didn’t respond at all, so I told her I knew I still needed to lose another 10-20lbs, and she responded with, “yep, you still have a ways to go”.  Please note that I was fasting for the blood work, and it was now 12:30, so I was in a hypoglycemic fog – otherwise, I’m pretty sure I would have given her a piece of my mind.  I was pretty much in disbelief when I left her office, but both Brian and Mom were outraged when I told them about my visit.  Looking back, I think she may be the worst, even most dangerous doctor I’ve ever met.  Haven’t reported her yet, but still contemplating it.  I don’t have an eating disorder (besides eating too much 😉 ), but how did she know that?  I have many friends who have suffered from eating disorders, and making a statement like that without first knowing how I lost the weight was incredibly irresponsible.  So . . . . . . still need to find a doc to talk to about my issues.

I found a great gynecologist (or rather my mom did), and met with her this past week.  She was wonderful, compassionate and empathetic – everything a good doctor should be.  She gave me the names of some good docs, including a psychiatrist.  Never in a million years did I think I would allow my self to be “shrunk”, but now, I’m thinking it’s unavoidable.  I really don’t want to go back on meds right away, or at all if I can avoid it.  I’ve never been to a support group or talked to a therapist about what I’ve been through.  Brian and I had a short stint in marriage counseling after Samantha was born, but the only success came from her (the therapist’s) complete ineptitude.  She was terrible!!  We gave her 5 tries, and when she did nothing but load us down with worksheets to work on at home, and never once addressed the death of my son or father, we decided to let her go.  I think Brian and I were fine all along – we just had all of this grief, anger, fear, uncertainty inside of ourselves because of the horrendous ride we had been on since Colin had died.  Making fun of the stupid therapist after each appt did us more good than actually meeting with her, so we decided we’d save the $100/week and just try to laugh together on our own again.  Brian and I have been through hell and back together, so there is no doubt we’re supposed to be together.  It’s not perfect (whose relationship is?), and could definitely use some work, but we love each other madly and are best friends.  Much, much less has broken up many marriages, so I’m holding onto him for dear life.  I haven’t been the best wife (or mom or daughter for that matter) for awhile, and that is the main reason I am motivated to seek help.  I need to find the old me.  The one who could laugh at anything; the one who could take a deep breath and face my challenges instead of letting them cripple me.  I need to wake her up and let her live her life and put this scared, irritable, anxious version back where she belongs.  So, now that I’ve put it out there, I’ve forced myself to be accountable – I will call the psychiatrist tomorrow.

Holidays Always Suck

So, there is really no doubt how very bad I am at this blog thing.  Or, I guess I’m really good at repressing – always have been.  The only thing that’s been constant over the last 7 years is that no matter how hard I try to live my everyday life as a normal, undamaged person, I get a gigantic sucker punch in the gut right about now every year.

I talked to my cousin Kyle last week, way, way later than I should have.  He was working in Texas, and his mom and brother had both told me that he might still be here on Thanksgiving, so I was calling to invite him to spend the day with us.  Had I called him a week earlier, like I should have, I would have already known that he was going to make it home for Thanksgiving after all.  Until I heard his voice, I had forgotten just how bad that first holiday season was (and the next, as it was the first without my dad).  Kyle lost his wife this past year to breast cancer, and today is his first Thanksgiving without her.  I’m so bad about reaching out – as I have mentioned over and over, repression and avoidance should be my middle names.  I asked him how he was, and I could almost feel the pain packed in around his answer of, “I’m fine”.  I told him I knew he wasn’t fine, and that there is no way around it – this year, the holidays are just going to suck ass.  People forget (seriously, they do) that you might still be grieving – the rest, they just don’t want to pry or, are frankly too uncomfortable to talk about it.   I told him that there is absolutely nothing that is going to fill that giant hole right now – either he can dive in and start to deal with it, or he can zip it up in a giant baggie and swallow it (like I did – not entirely recommended).  We talked for a long time – it was good to talk to him.  Sadly, it’s somewhat comforting to be able to talk to someone who has felt the same level of pain that I have.  Twisted as it is, sometimes misery loves company.  We talked about how stupid and insensitive some people can be, among other things.  Sadly, I didn’t have very good advice when it came to talk about dealing with grief.  Obviously, my way is probably not the healthiest.  I did tell him about finding Maya and Rockstar Ronan, and how I stayed up that entire night reading their story, and about reaching out to her.  I also told him I have been writing (if you want to call it that) myself, and that little by little, I have found that some of the tiny shards of glass in my heart seem to have been repaired.  Although reliving this experience sometimes causes me nearly as much pain as it did the first time around, I think I have to do this in order to figure out how to heal.  I encouraged him to look through the blogs and find someone whose situation is similar to his.  Unfortunately, there are a lot of us out here.  However, it is helpful to find someone who has been where you are now, and find out that they aren’t in that place anymore.  I feel so bad for him right now – I know that his heart is shattered right now.  Anyone’s instinct, including mine, is to hug someone and tell them that everything will be alright.  However, unless you’ve walked in these shoes, those words don’t mean a lot to us.  I know that he has to find his own path, just as I am still trying to find mine – I just hope I can help steer him in the right direction.

Brian’s mom and one of his brothers is visiting us in Texas for the Thanksgiving holiday this week.  They flew in last Sunday and they are going home this Sunday.  It has been a really nice visit, especially for Brian.  I’m so glad that the kids have been able to spend some good, quality time with Grandma Babs too – I know she misses them a ton.  It can’t be easy for her to see them so infrequently, especially when my mom gets to see them  everyday.

For the few of you who have hung on with me through my crazy long absences, I’m not sure that I ever finished our story – the hard part of it, at least.  I know that I described our very short time with Colin, which is probably one of the hardest things I’ve done.  Living those moments again were excruciating – I think I can only do that to myself every once in awhile. I’ll try the abbreviated version of what followed, but no promises.

After Colin died, we were in such a strange, horrible place.  We had just lost our first born child – we needed to grieve, to mourn him, to plan his funeral.  However, we had his very tiny, very precious twin brother still residing in the NICU.  Therefore, no time for any of the above.

We spent the next few weeks standing guard at Riley’s side, at the new hospital.  I was such a tangled, messed up weave of emotions.  Unfortunately, I still had to see the same doctors that had been at the previous hospital, as they rounded at this one too.  Tolerance is probably too generous a word to describe my attitude toward them at the time, but I did have to rely on them to save my son if he needed them to.  As for the surgeon who refused to transport Colin (when he was stable enough), I  felt nothing but complete disdain .  I wanted to scream and yell vile things at him; I wanted to stick a scalpel in his eye.  But, I settled with evil stares and allowing all of the hatred to seethe inside of me.  However, there was some refreshing light in that very dark tunnel.  The nursing staff in that NICU was phenomenal.  They were  professional, kind, and empathetic to say the least.  They gave us just what we needed – never too much.  The entire hospital seemed to be run by professional adults; whereas, the one we had just left seemed like a clinical site for a community college by comparison.  Obviously, this definitely didn’t help with my feelings of self blame when it came to choosing the damn hospital in the first place.  I’ve carried that guilt with me for a long time, and at least a little bit of it will probably always be with me.

By this time, Brian had started to go back to work, at least for partial days.  He still spent a lot of time with us in the NICU, but I was there by myself a lot.  I had a lot of time on my hands, which wasn’t necessarily good.  I spent a lot of time just staring at Riley, watching him sleep, making sure he was still breathing.  I don’t think 5 minutes passed that I didn’t have an uncontrollable sense of panic that he was going to die.  I’ve never felt so helpless in my life.  My sweet, tiny, precious boy – if I lost him too, I was pretty certain that I would walk out of the hospital, up to the highway and right in front of a semi.  Looking back, I was so close to the edge, it was a miracle I didn’t fall in.

One of the nurses claimed a very special place in all of our hearts.  I will call her Ann, because she was clearly the angel we needed in our lives at the time.  Ann was one of the first people we met when we had Riley transferred the night Colin died.  She was very professional and direct, but she was also kind and gentle with us.  She saw how lost and scared we were, and gave us all of the support and guidance we needed.  She never took offense to the fact I was hovering over her every time she was with my son.  I oversaw every blood draw, every residual check, every diaper change, every IV change that I could.  I dropped the ball before – I’d be damned if I would do it again.  At least, that’s how I saw it back then.  Not much can fuck you up more than thinking you checked out of the hospital only to leave your fragile preemie in the hands of a stupid, incompetent person whose incompetence probably killed him.  The only time I was not in that NICU was during shift change (no one was allowed during those 30 minutes).  If  Ann was on duty when I returned, she dutifully gave me a full report.  God bless her – she was just what I needed.  I was a total pain in the ass, as I will be every time one of my children is sick and their well-being is in the hands of another.  Sorry all future docs – someone else’s fuck up created a nightmare parent for you!  The only time I left, other than during shift change, was at the strong urging of the neonatologist – he had to place a PIC line into Riley’s heart because his veins just couldn’t take the TPN (his IV nutrition) anymore.  I was really, really pissed, but I think I might have been a tiny bit grateful (though I never would have admitted it) – I think watching that procedure might have just pushed me over the edge.

Back to Ann.  I think she could read the fear on my face like the cover of a book.  I was so scared that something was going to happen to my baby – the only one I had left.  At that point, I think my fear was preventing me from touching and bonding with my son.  She encouraged me to start kangaroo care with him.  Basically, it is skin to skin contact between the newborn and his mother or father.  I had learned about it in nursing school, and knew that it had produced amazing results in even severe cases.  My tunnel got a lot brighter the day she placed my Riley on my chest.  I did have a baby!  I was a mother!  I think we spent most of the afternoon that way.  Finally, I was able to bond with my son.  This leads me back to my frustration with the first hospital.  That NICU was so crowded and the nurses we so busy, we were rarely able to hold our boys at all.   Most of our contact with them took place within confines of their beds, as they were attached to wires and tubes.  The nurses just didn’t have the time, and they made that clear.  I will always hate each and every one of those bitches for that.  I truly hope that they remember what they took away from me.  I never, ever held my babies together, at the same time.  This sounds so stupid, so selfish, but I hate that they couldn’t give that to me.  I feel broken.  Did I really have twins?  I think I did.  I have the ultrasounds, the medical bills and stretch marks to prove it.  I also have a grave stone in Indiana with my sweet Colin’s name on it.  But what I don’t have is one fucking picture of me holding both of my boys.  Isn’t that like the first picture every parent with twins has?  A picture of the new mother, beaming and holding both of her babies.  Well, I don’t, and I never will.  This might seem so simple to people, but it is such an amazing loss for me.  Those stupid, bitchy, inexperienced nurses couldn’t take 10 fucking minutes so that I could hold my baby boys together.   Seven years later, I still hate them just as much for it.  So, when Ann took the time to find a privacy partition, find me a gown, unravel all of Riley’s cords and place him on my bare chest, I wept.  I wept with grief for my loss – I would never, ever hold Colin this way.  But I also wept for joy I was just now finding with my Riley.  She gave me an amazing gift that day – she reminded me that I was a mother, and that  my sweet boy needed me.

I think this is all I can do for now.  Baby steps . . . I’ll just try to start putting them closer together 😉  Please be thankful for your blessings – not just today, but every day.  We never know what tomorrow will bring.