Beginning to Forgive

I have been in therapy for the last year dealing with all the ways my mother has fucked me up and continues to send me into never ending downward spirals of hell every time I have to deal with her. I'm still not completely aware of how much of my depression and self hate is because of the contact I have with her.

My therapist keeps trying to help me set boundaries with her, and for awhile I can, but then something happens, I don't even know what it is, but at some point I let her in my "fence" and I turn into a complete mess. It's all I can do to function on a daily basis for myself let alone my kids and husband.

I'm supposed to be able to get to some place where I can understand why mom is the way she is, accept it and forgive her for how horrible of a mother she was. I'm still not able to reconcile how to do this and maintain boundaries because I feel like I need the anger to maintain the boundaries and protect my sanity from her.

My mom said she wanted to "break the chain" with me.   But when it came down to it, she raised me the same damn way her father raised her.

And as much as I try to raise my kids completely different than my parents raised me, I see The Boy struggle with the same shit.  It's not in how I parent him, praise him, discipline him or any of those things my mom sucked at, but it's in how he sees me react to and handle things. Which is not well at all.  My therapist has said the same thing about her kids.

This makes me think that no matter how hard I try to do things differently for my kids, I'm still going to fuck them up some how. And no matter how many mistakes my mom wouldn't have made, I still would've been fucked up. Everyone is fucked up by their parents because parents are humans.  Hell, look at my FIL. He wouldn't come visit Evan when he was born and now he wont come visit us because our house is too messy. On the surface I see my in laws as these stable well adjusted people that raised three amazing men, but my FIL does shit to hurt Magnus. WTF????  I would never picture him as someone that would hurt one of his kids, but he has.  Every time my MIL comes to visit, he lays a guilt trip on her because he likes having her there. Does he mean it?  Probably not. Does that make a difference?  Nope. Still fucking hurts like hell.

I guess my point is that in trying to come to some sort of peace with all the shit my mom has done and still does, I'm realizing that she's human just like everyone else and no matter how "perfect" my childhood could've been, I still would have issues because and she still would have hurt me, because she's human.  The shit my mom did and does isn't intentional. She's just that messed up in the head.  I still struggle with every positive thing she has to say to me because I don't believe a damn one of them. How can you call your child awful names and make awful accusations and then turn around and tell them how amazing of a person and parent they are?  What makes her so qualified to know what a good parent is?  Logic doesn't tie those two things together, but some how, in order for me to heal, I've got to reconcile that my mom loves me despite all the shit she has done and does. She loves me in the way she is capable of loving me, not in the way I need her to love me and can't show me in the ways I need to see it.

The Blob and Other Ramblings

Why am I afraid to feel Joy?  Happiness?  Deep down I think I've known why, but could never name it. I've always thought it was a fear of the unknown. Felling sad, depressed, anxious and or angry are what I know. They are what I live in.

The real reason I'm afraid to feel happy?  I'm afraid I will lose control. Control of what exactly, I don't know. The first thing that comes to mind is control of all the shit I've been hanging onto.  I call that shit The Blob.

      The fear of losing control is as dangerous as the disease itself.  

Fear keeps us doubting instead of hoping.  Looking down instead of up.    

 
There is this Blob inside of me. A huge black creeping Blob. Sometimes I can keep it at bay, but the moment it thinks I'm starting to feel something good, it pours out of its hiding place and suffocates those good feelings. At first it's a trickle. I can feel it coming out, but I'm still feeling good enough that I can fight it off. But, the more I fight, the bigger the flood. I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't. If I fight The Blob, it fights back. If I don't fight The Blob just takes over anyway.

My therapist says I need to learn to love The Blob.  That sounds like the strangest and scariest thing I've ever heard. Love The Blob? Love this thing that tells me I'm worthless and don't deserve happiness. I've been trying to tell The Blob to fuck off. Sometimes it works. But, it's always there. Lurking.

Maybe I just need to accept The Blob. Let it have it's time. Let it grieve all that it needs to grieve. Tell it that it is still a good Blob despite its imperfections.   But how do I love this thing that isn't perfect?

I used to think my marriage was perfect. But guess what, I found out its not. Like any other marriage, it's had its challenges the last few years.  My solution?  End it. But my husband loves me. How does he do that?  How does he love me despite not being the perfect wife?  I feel like I have failed. Failed miserably. But, the funny thing is, he's the one that feels like he failed. He wanted to follow his dream and because of that he thinks he failed his family. And I think I failed because he thinks he failed us.  I've got to let go of that. I can't blame myself because he feels guilty about chasing his dream. He has to own that guilt all by himself. Could I have done things better?  Probably. Would it have made him feel less guilty?  No.  


Why am I taking on everyone else's shit?  I keep trying to find excuses for the reasons my mom failed so horribly as a parent.  People say it's my mom and she gave me life and raised me.  I suppose technically she gave me life, but she screwed it up pretty bad too.  I'm pretty fucking pissed about it too.  I keep wanting to protect her from my anger.  I guess because deep down I know she did the best she could.  As much as she said she wanted to break the cycle with me and raise me differently, she didn't.  But, at the same time she did.  She saw me as a miserable teenager that was in desperate need of help.  She got me help and I'm the person I am today because of the help.  Except that she wants a freaking cookie for getting me the help.  That was her JOB, as my mother, to get me help after screwing me up.  But she wants me to thank her.  What the hell?


Well, that was a lot to unload.  Maybe now I can sleep.  Or maybe I need some more wine.

Just When I Thought We Were Getting Somewhere

The boy had another incident at school. This one was a bit more serious. He slapped a kid on the back. Slapped him so hard his teacher heard it and it left a perfect red hand mark. What a fantabulous way to start the last week of school - suspended. Again.

Suspension is the absolute worst punishment you can give a kid. It's more of a punishment on the parent than the kid.   As I was putting him to bed tonight he said "at least I'll have one day where no one asks me stupid questions".  Somehow, I've got to attempt to do work for my paying job and keep this child occupied while not letting him watch tv or play screen games. Who is REALLY being punished here?

Why did he hit the kid?  Because the kid said he was out in four square  and the kid wasn't even the Ace.  Something so stupid, but so typical. The kid wasn't following the rules. It wasn't fair. I know how he feels. How many times I have wished I could haul off and hit someone for not playing by the rules.

I feel so deflated.  We have had an amazing semester. The first semester that I haven't had 100 emails about what he has or hasn't done. The first semester we weren't at the psychiatrist every other week on a med adjustment.  The first semester the principal and his teacher had seen marked improvement.

I can't say I'm surprised though.  He's been struggling the last few weeks.  First it was field day.  He's worried he's not going to win a ribbon. Then it was excitement about going to grandma's house.  On the way to school today he even said something about being able to control himself. He's been trying to hard to keep himself together with all these emotions.  It was only a matter of time before he exploded.  Why didn't I listen?  Why didn't I give him a pep talk and some coping strategies.  Would it have made a difference?  Probably not.

This is how he feels - like dynamite ready to explode

We spent the afternoon running around to emergency appointments at the therapist and the psychiatrist. Just so he could go back to school on the last day. Field Day.   $395 in doctor and therapist bills. Just so he can go to school on field day.

I have always hated field day and I still do!  Even more than I knew I could.

Try telling this to my son!!!

Thank You Jen @ PIWTPITT

I've been meaning to write an email to Jen thanking her for what she does and giving me a huge shout out but decided to post it here with the hope that it may help someone else. 

Dear Jen,

I met you when your Elf post went viral. Like most other people on the planet, I laughed and almost peed my pants while spewing coffee all over my computer screen.  Before your post, I didn't know there were other mom's out there that felt the same way I did.

As I got to know you through your writing, I too thought we were related.   We have kids almost the same age with boys as oldest, I met my husband online and I am tired of over achieving moms that are too busy planning potty parties that their  douchey dad husbands can't attend.   We even have the same first name!  My kids go to a school FULL of OAMs and I feel like a loner ALOT!  Your blog made me feel a lot more "normal".

There was another post of yours that really helped me out. Your post about starting a blog finally helped me "find my voice".   I had thought about writing before, but had a hundred excuses why I couldn't. Most of them were about how I wasn't perfect enough or funny enough or not an English major and therefore will make too many grammar mistakes.   But when you wrote that post and suggested finding my voice, a ton of stuff hit me.  I can make people laugh, I do it all the time.  If I do this , I'm doing it for me and no one else.  If nobody likes what I have to say, they don't have to read it. If a grammar freak can't stand my writing, they can move along to the next blog. I also realized this would be a good way to learn that I don't need to be perfect and that I would never get better if I never tried.

Thank you Jen!  Thank you for making me feel "normal" because I'm NOT an OAM and thank you for helping me find my voice!

Your distant cousin,

Jennifer

I'm a Complete Mess

I have been an absolute stress ball the last four and a half months. Between my son's troubles, traveling, Magnus traveling, running the kids everywhere, birthday parties, shit with Magnus and 1,000 other things that have popped up along the way.  It's all come to a screeching hault. My son is doing pretty well, kids' activities are winding down, no more birthday parties, no imminent travel and no pending crisis.

I have nothing left to occupy my mind with, so the big bad self critical voice is coming out full force.  And I just don't have the energy to fight it anymore.  This is all the crap swimming around in my head right now:

Went into my therapy appointment thinking I had been doing good and left feeling shitty.

Discovered the meme generator and everything was about some error on some video game. Made me feel like I'm not funny because I can never think of anything funny to make one. And now I can't even find anything funny on there because everything is about a video game.

Set up a Tumblr account and can't figure the damn thing out.   I can't find my own stuff to share anywhere. Even if I did I'd question whether it was really funny or not.

I'm pissed off at my mom for screwing me up.

A big page shared my page today and I got maybe two likes from it. I suck at this and should just give up.

Grammar Nazis make me feel like an idiot.

Can't figure out why Adsense won't work on my blog.   I really wish we'd get the laptop fixed.

I Never have any energy to get this house straightened up, but I hate living in all this clutter.

Certain bills have stacked up and need to be paid.  Just makes me want more money.

My job is boring as hell. There is nothing intelluctually stimulating about it. I'm not even sure it serves much of a purpose. However, it IS a paycheck.

Why can' I just BE HAPPY?  Just for an hour!!!  If I was happy for an hour, I'd be unhappy that it wasn't longer.

I tried losing weight earlier this year, but all I did was self destruct every attempt I made.  I have to go see my skinny health nut sister in laws in a week and a half. I emotionally eat.


I can't think of a picture to put with this post.
I am very afraid of where I'm going to end up on this downward spiral.

This Parenting Stuff Isn't Easy!

Last week my son's teacher sent me an email saying he was crying over little things and seemed more anxious than usual.  I honestly wasn't too surprised since it is almost the end of the year.  I talked to him about it and he said he was nervous about field day. Last year he didn't win any ribbons and he's worried he isn't going to win any this year.  We run into this issue with EVERY sport he plays in or any type of competition he participates in.  If he doesn't hit the ball, get the ball or win some sort of award then he gets bent out of shape and his whole world comes crashing in on him.

For awhile I avoided putting him in competitive situations because he couldn't handle the let down. But after we got him stabilized on meds, I signed him up for baseball.  I was still hesitant because of past experiences, but I wasn't doing him any favors by helping him avoid challenges.  He has done real well with baseball. In the begining he would get down on himself because he wasn't hitting the ball. However, unlike other times, he seemed to be handling it better.  He kept practicing and finally made contact between bat and ball. He was sooooo proud of himself and really understood how good it felt to stick with something and succeede. I really thought we had made a brakethrough.

Then I got an email from his teacher today about trying to make someone else flush the toliet for him. It may not seem like a big deal as an isolated incident, but my son has a history.  I know why he did it. He's anxious. When he gets anxious he doesn't think about what he's doing. It's like something becomes disconnected in his brain and he just does things he normally wouldn't do.

My first reaction was to tell him he didn't have to participate in field day. I just want him to get through the last week of school without a series of incidents that ruins all the work he has done this year to improve his behavior. As soon as I had the thought, I knew it was the wrong choice.  If I give into him, I'm teaching him to avoid difficult situations. If I give into him, I'm not giving him a safe environment to experience failure. In reality, I'm only making his perfectionism and anxiety worse.

What I need to do is help him identify when he is feeling anxious and what happens when he is. I need to make him feel safe and secure when he has to confront something difficult. And I need to teach him effective ways of dealing with his anxiety.  The only problem with that is I don't know how to do it myself!  How am I supposed to teach my child?!


Through this whole delimma I am reminded that as a parent, my job is to make the right decision, not the easy one or the one my child wants me to make.  Even if that means he will experience sorrow or despair or failure.

Even Blessed People are Dysfunctional

I've spent a lot of energy beating myself up for not being a happier person.  The past five years haven't been the best, but when I put it in perspective it sure could have been a lot worse. But even knowing this, I'm not happy. I'm not sure I'm wired for happiness.   See, look at that hopeless statement.

I often ask myself why can't I feel blessed for what I have and get over myself.  Why can't I be one of those people that walks down the street feeling blessed just to be alive. To be happy no matter how much crap is thrown my way. To never get down on things when life hands me an orchard full of lemons.  I've got it way better than lots of people out there, so what the hell is wrong with me?

I was having a talk with one of my friends on a day I was feeling sorry for myself and she told me to "just be happy".  This is a friend that tried to get pregnant for over five years. When she finally got pregnant, she developed complications and had her baby at 27 weeks  He died at two weeks old. As if that wasn't enough, she learned she had cancer. OMG!   How does one go through this and come through it feeling blessed and able to tell someone else to "just be happy". And what the hell is wrong with me that I can't "just be happy"

My therapist (everyone say hi to Jennifer, my therapist because she reads this and asked for a shout out) says its because I'm real. As opposed to being fake.   I'm real because I experience emotions at a deeper level than happy people.

She says that people that are always happy are just protecting themselves from feeling the painful emotions someone like me does.  She would know too because she's one of these "glass is always half full" happy people. So being happy no matter what is just a defense mechanism that people use to avoid feeling painful emotions.

I have to be honest with you, I sure wish I was one of these people, at least some of the time. I feel like I am always emotionally spent because of how "real" I am.

What My Van REALLY Says About Me

Like everything else in my life, my van is a disaster.  It's far from perfect and I avoid cleaning it because with in five minutes of it being cleaned, The Princess and The Boy have trashed it again.   Despite telling myself I don't give a shit it's not perfect, it bothers the hell out of me. Or it did, until someone gave me a different perspective.

I was dropping my daughter off at school in carpool the other day and the teacher helping her out of the van commented that my van was messy. I was a little embarrassed until she told me not to be.  She said her car was just as messy and that it was a sign she would rather spend time with her kids. EXACTLY!

I spend LOTS of time with my kids!

Maybe too much time!

Since therapy is all about being analytical, I thought I'd share what else my van says about me.

This big dent in the side of my van says if I ever had an extra $500 laying around I wouldn't spend it on the insurance deductible to get this dent fixed.

This is the third seat. It is also my traveling bed.  Very often I find myself traveling for work and if I haven't had enough sleep the night before, I fall asleep at the wheel.  See the comfy pillow and blankets back there?  They come in quite handy when I need to find a parking lot somewhere and get some more sleep.  Usually an hour or so and then I'm good to go the rest of the day.

This is my broken pilot's seat.  I can't move the seat forward or backward. This, along with the dent pictured above (oh and the windshield cracked in two places) are proof to my mother in law that we waste money. You see, if we would stop wasting money on private school and therapy for two people, we could afford to fix my van.  It also annoys her that the one time she visits and stays for three days, she needs cushions to help her reach the pillows. Oh fucking well!

Finally, this is the back of my van.   I use it as storage for all the shit I'm too lazy to haul in and clutter my house with.  Also, if I brought this stuff in, I'd have to put it away. I'm too busy spending time with my kids to put shit away. This is also where I stash gifts. Unfortunately, The Boy has caught on to this, so now I have use a blanket to cover things up.  You can also tell that I like shopping at Target.

So from now on, I'm not going to be embarrassed about my van.  Whenever I criticize myself for it not being cleaner and dent free, I'm going to remind myself that the time I spend with my kids cuddling, laughing and playing in the yard is going to mean more than a pretty van. I would rather spend my money on private school and therapy (ok, not really, but given the choices I have) than on fixing dents and cracks. If my MIL doesn't like it, she can pay to have it all fixed!

A Dysfunctional Perfectionist's Guide to Throwing a Birthday Party

I'm a craft whore. I love doing crafty things.  I also love birthday parties.  Throwing homemade birthday parties gives me the perfect opportunity to get a little crafty. But, I'm also a perfectionist that looks for fault in everything I do.  I tell myself that putting together a birthday party will help me practice how to control my self critical voice.   Here is how I threw a Pirates & Princesses birthday party for my daughter and all the ways my self critical voice tried to get the best of me.




A Week Before the Party

1.  Buy all the ingredients you will need for the cake.  Panic and drive to three different grocery stores looking for graham cracker sticks. Get pissed that you live in a town with a grocry store monopoly. The town you USED to live would have graham cracker sticks.  Completely flip out on yourself and convince yourself the party is ruined because the cake won't be perfect.

image from familyfun.go.com
I couldn't find the graham cracker sticks to put 
around each layer of the cake.

Special note: Make sure you buy a whole pineapple (not one already cored that would make your life easier) to make the cute strawberry & pineapple boats with. Leave the pineapple on your counter with the kitchen window open so you can infest your house with fruit flies.

**Apparently I did not save the website where I found the idea for these glorious pineapple strawberry boats.  Picture a chunk of pineapple with a strawberry on top skewered with a sword cocktail pick.**

2.  Start making the wooden pirate ship you convinced yourself you could assemble without the help of your husband because you knoe he hates these things.  Immediately accept your husband's offer to help and then watch him start cussing at it and breaking it within 15 minutes.

After your husband has thrown up his hands, take over building the ship, because if there isn't a pink pirate ship centerpiece, the party is ruined.

Note:  Have your hot glue gun heated up and ready to go. You're going to need it!

3. Panic about the state of your house, but avoid cleaning it because the kids will just trash it again.

**No picture available, use your imagination**

The Day Before the Party:

 1)   Make the cake. Don't panic when one of your cakes comes out looking like this because you can still salvage the top circle from it.

2)  Make a special trip to the grocery store for the ONE ingriedient you forgot for the icing.  Don't go to the closest grocery store, drive clear across town so you can get the $3 sword cocktail picks you need for the pineapple & strawberry boats even though you arent going to have time to make them.  Apparently, you bought the pineapple for the soul purpose of infesting your house with fruit flies.

image from Webhats.com

  3)  Start spray painting a styrofoam ice chest brown so it looks like a treasure chest.  Run out of paint and make a trip to the hardware store for more spray paint.  Think about how ridiculous it was to buy a three inch tall can of spray paint and become frustrated at wasting money.

You're going to need a heck of a lot more

spray paint than this to paint a styrofoam cooler!

  4. Set the table and allow yourself to actually be proud of something you did.  Tell that self critical voice to go to shut the fuck up.

Clearly, this adorable table would have

been completely ruined without the pirate ship!

   4. Finish the cake and tell yourself it turned out pretty awesome.  Remind that self critical voice it needs to shut the fuck up.  You CAN do some things right!

Not exactly like the picture, but 

it was enough to make a 4 yr old happy!

The Day of the Party

   1. Wake up with PMS and start losing your mind because your kids are already wound up over a party that doesn't start until 2:00.

  2.  Order balloons and then head over to the craft store for more shit you realize you do not have.  You really should have all your crafts DONE by now, but you don't.

  3.  Stop at Starbucks for some frappacino crack

  4.  Get almost all the way home before you realize you forgot to pick up the balloons

  5. Run out of time to make any of the food you bought.  You can always use those cocktail swords you HAD to have to fight the fruit flies.

    6.  Finish decorating.  Continue panicking.  Start cleaning up the house.

    7.  Bribe your daughter with your make up so she will put on the outfit you made.  Pray she will keep it on at least until the party starts.

    8.  Panic and then be secretly happy when everyone arrives 20 minutes late.  That much less time you have to fill!

    9.  Worry about not having food for people even though you know nobody will eat it.


FINALLY allow yourself to relax.  People are having a good time even though your self critical voice tried to convince you otherwise.


Tell yourself to never EVER have another party in your home. Seriously.  EVER!  Even if it is an excuse to get your house somewhat clean.