I'm not just a cliche- I've got a war in my mind

"Don't leave me now
Don't say good bye
Don't turn around
Leave me high and dry

I hear the birds on the summer breeze, I drive fast
I am alone in the night
Been tryin' hard not to get in trouble, but I
I've got a war in my mind
I just ride
Just ride, I just ride, I just ride

I'm tired of feeling like I'm fucking crazy
I'm tired of driving 'till I see stars in my eyes
I look up to hear myself saying, baby
Too much I strive, I just ride"

Ride - Lana Del Ray

I can remember being around 5 and having horrible, horrendous, murderous thoughts. I thought it was normal, I was angry, isolated, hurting and I wanted it to stop any way I could manage and wishful thinking that others would be harmed seemed justifiable. I soon realized that that wasnt normal nor was it okay, and it didnt take me long to learn some empathy and change that thought pattern. I'm fucked up, but I'm smart and I knew very early that I should and could make those thoughts stop, and so I did, by learning to see everything from everyone else's perspective. It has been the single most valuable tool to me over the years. 

When I was around 11 or so, I had a teacher who searched my desk for drugs, I wasn't on any drugs, I was in 5th grade...but after many years, I can understand how she would worry about the loner kid who didnt give a fuck and wanted everyone to leave her alone, but at the same time was desperate for some sort of connection. I have been called "bullheaded" more times in my life than I can count and I'm guessing that maybe that obstinate, "stand up for myself and never let anyone bull doze over me" spirit I faced everyone head on with may have given her the wrong impression, I guess thats understandable enough. 

It was around this same age that I started having "meltdowns". I very distinctly remember doing something pretty ordinary at my grandparents house, now let me interject that at the time, my grandparents were a beacon in my life. They were the parents I chose for myself in my head and while I lived at home with my mom, I had at some point decided that they were my parents and I respected them and was so intensely afraid of disappointing them. So upon doing whatever it was that I did, I freaked out and hid under a bed, I refused to come out, I lay under there crying with such deep seated shame that I couldnt budge. My grandmother tried in vain to convince me that it was okay and I was loved and she wasnt mad, but I was so embarrassed by my meltdown...but I couldnt stop either. It was at that point that I had my first real suicidal thought. 

I'm intentionally leaving out very large crucial points in my life that were traumatic to me, but lets skip ahead to me as a teen. It was around 13 or so that I started in with my O.C.D tendencies, and my suicidal thoughts escalated to dangerous proportions. I didnt recognize that I was O.C.D. until years later upon talking to a therapist, I just knew I was focusing on one thing, that I was making routines, that I was creating these...compulsions...that gave me some control. My life, my thoughts, scared me because they were spiraling out of control so fast that I couldnt breathe. I wanted so desperately for the spinning and sinking to stop. I was so tired of faking my way through life, then breaking down every night and trying so hard to make it stop. I was tired of praying with no results. I thought if I prayed hard enough that I would be fixed. I thought that if I didnt get fixed, I would go to hell. AT one point I was trying so hard to be okay or end it that I was taking whole handfulls of common medicines like tylenol (because I was only 13 and didnt know that it wouldnt kill me), and I was rearranging my room damn nearly daily. Living in my head was hard. 

Fast forward to being pregnant the first time. I was 19. I had no idea how to handle myself or my life which was...difficult. I didnt know then that something was wrong and that I should have talked to my dr. I was suicidal in secret. I was so disappointed in myself because for years I had succeeded in not being crazy, I had learned how to live and be happy...I had been reckless for a bit, but otherwise I was handling life pretty well. I would venture to even call myself sane during that time. All of a sudden though, I was living with a guy I hardly knew, pregnant with a baby I wasnt sure I wanted, and was just trying to make the best decisions I could....but those never seemed to be the right ones. I need to pause here to say that during this time, I met someone whom loved me through this, someone who helped me know and understand this man I was with, someone who held me together when I was falling apart and who seemed to know what I needed even when I didnt (often just a hug or to drive or to break shit)...but when I was at my craziest, he was there loving me through it. This person was the first person to treat me like I was part of his family because I was growing his nephews baby girl and he wanted me to thrive in life. At one point, I had another major meltdown that consisted of me showing up at our bosses house and going the fuck off...and then the shame hit me and I sat in my car ugly crying until this new strange partner of mine gently pried me from the car and held me and helped me face my wrongdoings with grace. He tried so hard to care for this crazy bitch that I was, when I'm sure all he wanted to do was ditch me. He was turning into someone I could trust and respect. I didnt know it then, but I had ptsd and trusting and respecting a man was not something I did easily, I knew I adored him and hated him simultaneously, but I didn't trust him. I do know that at one point he got mad and got in my face and yelled at me and I lost it, when I told him through tears that he couldnt do that with me, he held me and made me feel safe despite still being angry with me. I think he recognized before I did that I wasnt actually as strong or okay as I thought I was, and thats when I started trusting him. 

Anyway, I had our daughter and immediately realized something was wrong. I called my dad after almost two weeks crying, I didnt feel like she was mine. I was disassociated from her and motherhood. I loved her...but more like a caregiver, not at all like a mother. My dad told me to keep going and that it would come in time. He was right, but before that happened, I failed at breastfeeding....now, knowing what I do now, I know that there is no such thing as failing at breastfeeding and that I was simply uneducated on how to breastfeed, but at the time, it was the straw that broke the camels back. I was bottoming out again. I felt myself slipping under that familiar blanket of depression and fight as I may, I couldnt stop it. Now I had something to live for though, this tiny human was depending on me. She needed me, and I needed her. So leaving her wasnt an option. I spoke to my midwife and I started my first antidepressant and saw my first therapist. The medicine sucked and it didnt work, but for the first time in my life I felt so goddamn relieved to finally be getting help that I knew I needed. I was diagnosed with postpartum depression, ocd, and manic depression. I didn't really like going to therapy because it caused me to process too much and as a disassociative person, I liked living in my safe bubble of emotional suppression. It wasnt long before my therapy wasnt causing problems in my relationship and thankfully it interfered with work schedules and I had to quit going. My life was chaos for a bit. I fortunately had formed some strong friendships by this point so I was okay not going. I got through that period with just the horrible medicine, and I was surviving well. Not long after I quit taking the meds. I lost them and felt better without them. Life was moving forward and I was grateful for it even when it was a crumbling mess, I didnt want to focus on myself, just the life I was living, the man I had grown to love, the baby who was turning into a person. I still had my highs and lows, but thats how my life had always been so I just rode that rollercoaster and stayed as strong as I could. 

When that little girl was around two and a half I started to realize that she wasnt a typical child. Everyone told me that she was special and different, but I only saw the craziness that she was turning into. She was magic, a true indigo child...but there was something else too and I didnt want to face whatever it was so I told myself that it was all a stage. She was a brilliant disaster....and she was turning me into one in the process. The "worse" she got, the worse my reactions were. My tolerance was so limited. I was so afraid of raising her, I was scared that I would hurt her like I had been hurt, but I also wanted her to be raised to be the person I felt she should be...we have a tendency to do that as parents. We decide we are going to raise empathetic, responsible, honest, hard working, etc kids come hell or high water. Here I was pregnant again, already with a kid who was out of control and in a relationship that despite how much I loved him, I have never felt secure in...I'm never going to feel is steady no matter what, so stop asking if we are getting married please, I dont expect it anytime soon if ever, I'm not sure I want anything more than what we have. I'm not the kind of girl you marry okay? okay. So anyway... one day she pushed me too far and I hit her upside the head. Not hard, but I did it. Now I grew up in an abusive home, and knew I had to break that cycle. I immediately called a therapist and booked an appointment. That evening, I opened the doors to years and years of suppressed emotions and memories and I let him in. It remains one of the hardest, most terrifying nights of my life. Trusting someone with your demons is hard, its an incredible risk, you could lose everything and everyone you love, I had to though. I knew that not only did I need support, I knew that I could no longer trust myself and I needed someone to keep me in check, so I handed this man my soul and trusted or hoped that I wasnt handing over my rights to my children in the process. I am not going to fill you in on what I told him, but I will tell you that I am a stronger person for the life I have lived and I am not angry about the things I've faced, because I know that most of the people were doing the best they could with me, and the others have been forgiven because theres no sense in me dragging that shit around like a ball and chain, I've got enough weight on my shoulders. I entered therapy soon after that and we worked on how I reacted to Natalies moments. I took webinars, read books, followed blogs, started practicing meditation, etc. I loved my therapist...but again, she was ripping me wide open. I don't like that. I don't like feeling such strong emotions. I particularly dont like feeling weak and like I need insurmountable amounts of support, being a burden is not what I've ever strived for. I take pride in handling my emotional shit alone. I dont want help, even when I need it. She diagnosed me with P.T.S.D. because I was completely disassociative...its a survival technique I picked up as a child. I had more important people to focus on than shit that happened. I focus more on those people and protecting them and empathizing with them than I focus on how it affects me....and a certain amount of that is good, but to completely shut yourself out so as to not feel at all, and then to have that surge of overwhelming emotion like a dam breaking, thats not good. Its not good, but its what I do and what I will probably always do when it gets too be too much. I am working on trying to find a balance between taking care of myself and others simultaneously...but thats a hard balance to find and sometimes I resort to my fail-safe of shutting myself down, and other times I become a runaway train headed for derailment without the capability to slow myself before I destroy myself and others. I wish I had more control over this, because I can feel how out of control I am, but its like watching yourself through a lens and you can't stop it. The shame that encompasses that, its catastrophic in and of itself. It didnt take me long to quit going to therapy, it requires more of me than I can give right now. One day when my kids are grown and I can break down, I will, but I cant yet. 

I decided not to be medicated that time either. I was so afraid that it would be like it was before and I dont want to live like that. Fast forward to a few months ago. Something happened, a conversation, and I felt myself flip, like a light switch to a state of overwhelming worthlessness and depression. I wasnt sad, I wanted to run, I wanted to run so far and never come back. I've felt this many many times, but this time it was immobilizing. I broke. My train derailed in the shower and I became numb and shattered like busted glass. I felt like I was beyond repair this time. I hate being a victim, so I refused to be a victim, but I knew that I was drowning and couldnt breathe, the depths were pulling me down and I just couldnt fight it. I faked smiles, I laughed out loud, I lived like normal, but behind that, in my gut, I was a pit of...agony. One night, in the wee hours of the morning, laying wrapped in my bf's arms, I broke down and he was there for me. He helped me understand that I didnt have to do any of this on my own like I had been doing for so long. For the first time...maybe ever...I felt hope. Real hope, it was piercing, and it flipped the switch back. I gasped for breath from the depths of that stormy abyss that had dragged me down. I started to rise and swim.

I always compared these feelings, these highs and lows to drowning. When you are low its like something from the abyss has ahold of you around the waist and it is pulling you under and you are fighting so fucking hard to stay above water, you can feel yourself drowning, the pain enters your lungs and it is killing you and while you may catch a quick breath, you are undoubtedly under the water more than you are above. When you are high, you managed to fight it off, you are floating on the now calm waters, you are looking at that beautiful blue sky above you, the sun is kissing your skin, the water tickling you as it laps softly at you. Your whole body is rocking gently on the top of the water and it feels so good, you know if you could get just a little higher, you could float on up into that sky and it would be be bliss....but you cant get higher, because you know that at any second that monster in the abyss is going to grab you around the waist again. 

I live under a constant strain of stress, for a myriad of reasons that I dont feel like disclosing, but I do. Some of it is self inflicted, but all of it is often too much for me to handle. I am a pretty strong, and obviously resilient person, and I refuse to be a victim, but sometimes its just too much. I, like many, suffer from anxiety that is often completely irrational, but its consuming at times. One morning, Natalie was particularly hard, and everything was going to shit and I had a million things to do. I sat down in my dining room and suddenly was paralyzed with fear. I sat there for hours, trying to convince myself that I was being ridiculous and I just needed to get up and keep going... I was afraid to get in the car. I dont know if I was afraid of the driving (something I love to do but often have anxiety about) or if I was afraid that I wouldnt come back. I just sat there. Natalie had triggered my ptsd, which had triggered my depression and anxiety, which had in turn escalated my ptsd into an epic mind numbing, paralyzing anxiety attack. I knew at that point that I couldnt keep "functioning" like this, because I was no longer functioning. I am a big fan of that liz taylor quote...hold on...let me find it...

“You just do it. You force yourself to get up. You force yourself to put one foot before the other, and God damn it, you refuse to let it get to you. You fight. You cry. You curse. Then you go about the business of living. That’s how I’ve done it. There’s no other way.”

Thats basically how I have lived my whole life, so when I couldnt do that, it was a sign that I needed to do something. I scheduled at apt with my Dr (whom I had cried in front of a few times, she knew I was struggling, but I felt like I could manage it up until this point). When I went in we talked at length and she prescribed me something I had been on years and years ago for migranes, but this time it was supposed to be an antidepressant/medicine for anxiety, insomnia, and migranes. It worked...but it made it so that I was basically drugged at night, I couldnt even wake up to take care of Natalie one night as she was sick, leaning over a bucket next to me, I simply couldnt wake up enough to move. So I went back and told her I needed something else. I talked to a different Dr in the office this time and she dropped the bomb on me. The whole reason for this whole post....
I have bipolar disorder. I am type 1. 
http://www.healthyplace.com/bipolar-disorder/bipolar-types/what-is-bipolar-1-disorder-bipolar-i-bipolar-i-symptoms/

http://bipolar.about.com/cs/faqs/f/faq_bp1.htm

Now, I'm not entirely shocked by this, but it is greatly upsetting. I have fought for so fucking long to be okay. I thought that if I just fought hard enough, if I just stopped being a victim, that I could be okay and could function like a normal person. Its heartbreaking to know that its out of my control...I have ocd, I like control like a whoooooole lot!!!  I need control to be okay. to know that I'm neither in control and even if I were that I still wouldnt be okay...thats a hard pill to swallow. 
So we have changed up my meds. I am now on an antidepressant each morning and a mood stabilizer at night. I still have breakthrough episodes and I have emergency meds on hand for if that happens, but I generally love my new meds, I've never felt sane before and they really help me. This last month has been one tragedy after another so the meds arent helping currently, but I dont expect them to, and I need to grieve, so I dont want them to help me but just enough to keep me functional as a mom. I dont want to be dependant on medicines in any facility, but particularly medicines such as these. I take the lowest dose that I can, they have been doubled, but thats the lowest I can go and still be okay. 

So I'm writing this to help you. I want to help fight the stigma that makes me ashamed to admit all of this, but I dont want to do it for me, I dont give two shits what you think about me, I work hard to be who I am and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that despite being a monster at times, I am a genuinely good person...what I do want, is for you, the reader to have some insight for others who are fighting this...other warriors. I want you to know what to do. 

Try to be empathetic. 

Love us a little louder, dont avoid us or the topic of our mental health for fear of upsetting us, we need you to acknowledge that you see our faults but you love us more for them...or at least in spite of them. 

When we push you away, know that its almost always because we are afraid to lose you and we feel like if we control when you go, it'll hurt less. So back off if you need to for your own sanity, but dont leave us entirely. Let us know that you arent leaving us. 

Be honest, when we hurt you, tell us, give us a chance to fix it, chances are that we did so without any abandon and when we realize it, we are beating ourselves up because we really do love and value you, we don't hurt on purpose. We often have the biggest hearts and would never intentionally hurt those we love. 

When we get ourselves out of a situation, or if we ignore you when you talk, or if we intentionally block out all the chaos and retreat into our own worlds, back away slowly. We often have very short tempers and its like pissing off a rattle snake...just dont do it. We can often handle quite a bit, but if we get to the point of walking away to go try to controll ourselves, you need to let us. Just give us a few minutes to process and recenter ourselves...it may take longer than a few minutes, it could take days, weeks, months, a year or two....give us space, you can send us a message saying you miss us, but do not push. 

offer to go with us to talk to someone if you notice we are manic or depressed, sometimes we dont know we are either of those. 

Support, but dont enable.

Remind us gently that perception isnt always reality and help us see things from others perspective IF we are open to hearing it...sometimes we arent yet, that doesnt mean we never will be, it just means we arent yet. Do NOT patronize us! That is the epitome of disrespect, be honest. You can do that without being a dick.

Ask us not to self harm. Help us by holding us accountable, sometimes we need someone close to us who we trust, to stop us. 

If you notice we are isolating ourselves, show up and be there, bring a funny movie or whatever. Make plans to do something out of the house and show up early to help hold us accountable... depending on our moods or overall personality, do this caution. Personally I am social so this would always be helpful and rarely upset me, but I know for others, being forced is not going to go over well lol.

Understand that we need to vent, that doesnt mean we truly harbor ill feelings about whomever we are venting about, it just means we need to get it out or we will actually internally combust. 

Be patient.

Take care of yourself. Dealing with us can be draining, we know that, we dont begrudge you self care. 

Help us reduce the stress if you can. Is their house a mess? Sit with them while they clean (only help if they ask, its degrading to have someone have to clean up after your failures). Are their kids overwhelming them? Offer to come over or babysit. Is their morning routine overwhelming them? Help them simplify it. Help them pick out planners or journals, adult coloring books, meditation aps, etc. Sometimes just a night out with you...or a movie night in, can help them relieve stress. We want to be normal, help us do normal things like normal people because while we often can do this on our own, sometimes we get stuck and cant...and we wont tell you, so uhhhh good luck figuring that out...sorry. 

Don't tell us "thats normal" when we try to explain something to you. We are well aware that the world doesnt revolve around us and we arent the only ones with problems, but trivializing our very real feelings is just fucking insulting, because maybe you can handle shit better than we can and its not that bad to you...congratufuckinglations! You can tell us how you relate to our emotions, but don't downplay what we are saying to you, the fact that we are telling you anything to begin with is something, but you throw away that relationship when you demean us like that.

Learn about our illness, and other mental illnesses. 

Okay...I think thats all, if you have any questions, I am an open book so ask away. 

Its time to stop saying "At least he doesn't hit you"

It has come to my attention that women feel so indebted to men, in general, that we have convinced ourselves (and subsequently we try to pass on the myth) that if a man doesn't hit us, or generally treat us abusively, that we should just be grateful. At some point we decided that its sufficient to find settlement with a man who doesn't make us feel loved, appreciated, respected, wanted, so long as he isn't abusive.
As women we are taught that its on us to nurture the relationships and dedicate ourselves to making things work when we find that things have slumped, or if things just don't feel..good. Its on us to stay appealing, lovable, wonderful. Women are the glue it seems. So as women, we search for answers on how to play these roles. We talk to our mothers, our friends, our mentors...we vent and look into their eyes for wisdom on how to proceed, how to make things work when they no longer feel like they are worth our energy. Time and time again we hear those words, that seem encouraging, they do, but lets be honest: this can be hurtful advice that further traps women, rather than pushing them to find answers.
Now, I am not saying that every time you have a fight that you should tuck your tail and run. No, I firmly believe in fighting for what you want, I believe in not just giving up, and that you get what you give, so you should give your all...I'm just saying that when things are more down than up, when you feel like you are hanging by a thread, when its clearly not working, and you have talked until you are blue in the face and you still aren't even close to happy...its okay to want more than "at least he doesn't hit you". Its okay to dream of somewhere that the grass is greener, so long as you know that the grass probably isn't actually any greener. Be a realist.
If you have given your guy chance after chance, if you have communicated with him and tried to make it work, and you have given him a fair chance to help you make it right...its okay to decide you want more. You deserve happiness, alone or with someone new, even if he doesn't abuse you. Maybe separating is best for both of you in the long run, or maybe there are changes you both can make to fix it, I don't know.
I can't tell you how to get where you want to be, I can't tell you what steps to take. I don't know your situation. I can tell you that you should sit down with him, and be honest with him. He's a human too. Its time to stop telling women and girls that they should stay in an unhappy relationship, just because they aren't being abused. Its okay to help remind them of the positives, but lets not focus on any sentence that starts with "at least he doesnt..."

Wyrd Experience!

Today I did something, something totally selfish! I got a massage...er, well, I thought I was getting a massage, it was more like a masochistic indulgence. Wow did it hurt/feel freaking A-MAZ-ING!!!! A year or so ago, my daughter was enrolled into dance classes and it didnt take long for me to connect with her instructor and realize we were very similar...both totally wyrd! One of our after class discussions was about how she is also a massage therapist and how I should check out her site http://www.wyrdyoga.com/, and then she promised to take complete care of me....well I never got around to it...

The other day on fb she posted that she would be available for massages today for a discounted price if we paid cash, I immediately felt like this was something I needed, honestly I've been pretty stressed lately and have been embarking on a self transformation (I'm still looking for others to join me on this if you are reading this and are looking for a REALISTIC self transformation for your mind/body/health/home/etc that requires very little money, then I would love for you to join us at http://www.cafemom.com/group/121407) so I needed to do something for me. I dont like to ask my guy for money, I dont like to depend on others for anything...but I felt like I deserved to do this...I know how entitled that sounds so let me say that this is the first time in 8 years that this has ever happened, I never just ask for money to spend on me...but I've been working my butt off lately.
 Anyway, so I called this morning to verify the appointment and jumped in the shower, where I proceeded to attempt to shave my legs (hard enough with a stand up shower, even harder with a beat up knee!) and scrub my hair. I got out and realized that it had taken me an hour to achieve smooth legs :/ So I hopped in the car and hurried on my way.

 I pull up to her lovely farm house in historic downtown Strasburg, Va and anxiously walk up to the door, hair unbrushed and dripping wet, clothing askew...she opens the door and I apologize for being a mess as I step into her GORGEOUS entry...her husband has painted the whole area to look like you are inside of a medieval castle! The furnishings match the walls and its all just sort of magical honestly.

 She leads me up the fantastic hardwood stairs and into a little room, adequately adorned with a sign saying "massage room". As I step in, I look around, I take a deep breath, and I hear all the sounds I expect to in a spa like setting, the massage table has vintage linens and a blanket on it, the sheer gold curtains provide privacy and fit the castle theme, the cocobutter and incense smell are instantly relaxing. She instructs me to get undressed and lay down on the table and look up at the sky (I look up to see a sky like motif on the ceiling and cant help but giggle), she leaves the room and I do as Im told. The table is warmed, a heating pad under my back, a pillow under my calves...I'm already starting to feel comfortable...as an anxious perfectionist, this is quite surprising.

 She comes back in and rubs my feet down with some sort of cream, puts a pair of socks on them, and then slips on something I'm going to call "heating pad slippers" because I dont know what else to call them quite frankly. She pulls up a rolling stool and sits above my head, she must have spent at least 30mins rubbing my head. I'm not going to lie, this was INTENSE to say the least, at times it was extremely painful...but I didnt want her to stop either. I know that she is working out knots that I wasnt even aware that I could have...did you know you can have knots on your head? Not just a few either, like a lot of them!

 She moved on to my neck, my back, my shoulders, my chest, my face, my arms, and kept going down from there, hips, thighs, calves, ankles, feet, all the while slathering me in luscious coconut butter. It was spectacular! We talked the whole time, everything from energies, chakras, dreaming, higher self, vibrations...all things that one would expect when receiving a reiki massage I think.,

 We could both tell when she found a place that I carry a lot of tension. Its amazing how when you are stressed, you can feel tension in your body, but you have NO IDEA how MUCH tension, how many knots there really are. It was like clusters of grapes and she expertly worked out each knot until they "popped" and dissipated. After a while she had me turn over and worked on the back, not shying away at any point. She was so experienced and professional and serious about her work, touching me without any apprehension and with such skill, a true artist! She would randomly stop to rub my arm to remind me just how minimally she was actually applying any pressure at all, and to ask if I needed her to stop (can I just say that I am a big baby and whined the whole time...my god it was serious lol) but in the same breathe, it would be gloriously relaxing too.

 When it was all over she left me to dress and wish it wasnt over, taking it a step further to give me her number for if I had any questions later, she instructed me in what to do to alleviate any subsequent soreness that comes with detoxing your body via massage, and even let me know that shes running a special that got me $5 off my next massage by June just for coming in today. Not only are her rates generous, and not only is she generous with how much time you get, and not only is she skilled beyond belief, she made sure I was taken care of even after I left her table. That, is customer service ladies and gentlemen. That, is what will warrent her another repeat customer and that, my friends, is blog worthy! So, I had a wyrd experience today...and I highly suggest you do the same ASAP. Tell her I sent you :)

Juggling all these first world problems

*disclaimer* I have a pretty good life, as I am often reminded. I know I have it good and that it could be much much worse...but does that mean I have to be happy if I feel like I'm stressed or overwhelmed? I mean, I am grateful, but I'm not happy as often as I'm supposed to be.



For me:
I need more yoga
I need more meditation
I need more wine nights
I need to write daily
I need more girlfriends
I need more sleep
I need more bubble baths
I need to be creative
I need order in my home
I need pretty surroundings
I need more sunshine
I need barefoot in the grass time
I need to work out at home
I need more gym time
I need more books
I need more of the things that make me feel happy (jamberry, candles, art, sweaters, clothes that make me feel sexy and pretty, shoes, lotions, home decor)
I need more hippie things
I need more tattoos
I need to travel
I need hikes
I need lakes and canoeing
I need to LIVE

As mom:
I need to teach the kids
I need to play with my kids as much as the other moms do
I need to snuggle more
I need to yell less
I need to dress the kids up
I need to talk less, listen more
I need more dance parties
I need more family game nights where games get finished
I need to provide adventures and vacations
I need to expose them to more of the world than our home and school
I need to be pretty, strong, wise, comforting, loving, smiling, motherly
*I* need the kids to listen so we have time for this stuff

As girlfriend:
I need to nag less
I need to listen more
I need to be mindful of personal space
I need to bitch less
I need to be more grateful and say thank you more
I need to expect less
I need to give more backrubs
*I* need more romance, dates, intimate loving truly personal moments

As housekeeper:
I need to keep the floors sparkling
I need to keep surfaces clear and clean
I need to know where everything belongs and where it is
I need to keep dishes washed
I need to keep clothes wrinkle free and easily accessible
I need to keep toilets germ free
I need to keep everything stocked and ready to use
I need everything to be "company ready"
*I* need very little here, just some days off

As babysitter:
I need to teach life skills and academics
I need to make healthy meals and snacks
I need to provide large motor and small motor activities and crafts
I need to be patient and kind
*I* need to not overstep or get overwhelmed

As an aspiring doula:
I need a car
I need to find a babysitter, and a backup, and a backup, and a backup
I need to enroll
I need to jump in
I need to keep learning
I need practice
I need to consider everything, determine my value, and start a real business
I need a name, a logo, a website...real ones
*I* need to be a doula, I have never felt more passionate about anything

As a friend or family member:
I need to remember birthdays
I need to send cards
I need to call
I need to provide laughs or shoulders as needed.
*I* need my friends to come to me and bring wine and laughs, music and joy

I have a lot to juggle, and while it may seem that being a sahm means nothing but downtime and I have all the time in the world...what it really means is that I have to hold the world up and be grateful. Sometimes its not easy to do that. I just need to breathe and figure out how to fit all of this stuff into my days, my weeks, my years. I need a plan.

I'm part of the Influenster community, and today I got A FREE BAG OF CANDY CANE HERSHEYS KISSES!!!

What is Influenster?
 According to their about page.. "Influenster is a community of trendsetters, social media hotshots, and educated consumers who live to give opinions of products and experiences." 

Basically, they email the community members and invite us to participate in a survey, based on our answers, we may be selected to receive a voxbox full of full sized samples of products to try out and tell our friends about. We earn points and that increases our chances of getting more opportunities to get more free stuff! Every time we tell someone, or we get a friend to join the site, we get points! So if you want in, simply shoot me a comment with your email and I can hook ya up! 

Anyway, today I got my box! 

I couldnt wait to tear into them (neither could the kids!) and I have to tell you....these things are freaking delicious!!!!! There are tiny little bits of candy cane in the chocolate! Something about the mint, the crunch, the smooth chocolate, and the combination of flavors is just...like a symphony of flavor (shut up, I know its cliche, I dont care, its true!). 

Those little red dots inside are the peppermint punch! So yummy! 

I'm so glad I was chosen to test these, they are so good! When they hit the shelves, snag a bag, you wont regret it. 

****I received these products complimentary from Influenster for testing purposes****

BIG ANNOUNCEMENT!!!

I am taking a much needed break in my week to bring you big news for my family!

We bought a house!!!

Wanna see???? 

Isnt she lovely? 5bedrooms, 3.5baths, there's not only a separate dining room, there's a formal living room, a family room, and a rec room! Theres a one car garage which will mostly be used as a mudroom (despite the fact that it has a real foyer!!) and theres also a storage room. I dont even know where to begin...I'm going to have my own bedroom and bathroom...like a normal person! Goodbye jack and jill bath!  I "borrowed some pics from the realitor website...so none of the stuff in these pictures is ours, and its only a handful of pics, but if I bombarded you with all of them then you would never forgive me :) 

We plan to make a few changes, but all of them minor...we are tearing up the beige carpet in the dining room...because....4 kids, we plan to paint the girls room and our room and the kitchen cabinets. Its all minor stuff because the previous owner kept the place pretty immaculate and its move in ready! 

So before I conclude this announcement, I want to take a moment to say Thank you to T, in the last 7+ years we have been through a lot, we have struggled in many ways and between our sacrifices and our hard work, we have managed to make this happen. Its been a long hard road, but its been worth it. We now have a beautiful home to raise our family in. That's something to be proud of and I'm very grateful to have found someone who was willing to work hard to provide and who has helped make it possible for our girls to have a real family and a nice home. Its so much more than I ever dreamed would be possible for my life and for my kids lives. It means so much to me. 

Okay...we move tomorrow so I guess I'd better go pack! 

Body Love and men!

I used to struggle with body image...not used to, do. I think we all do, no matter how body positive we are, we look at a picture and see chunky arms, double chins, extra rolls around the middle and thighs that dont gap (thank god for those though, right?), and big penis shaped noses, and facial hair and archy eyebrows, acne scars and frizzy hair. No matter how much we look at our stretch marks and saggy boobs and think "but look at how they got there, wow!" we still see flaws. No matter how much self love we have, how beautiful we think we are despite our flaws, we still see our flaws and dont love them....we love ourselves "even with the flaws" instead of loving our flaws and all. But thats normal, its normal to have parts of our bodies we dont love. The important thing is we dont let those flaws keep us from loving and appreciating our bodies as a whole.

I realized something the other day, I realized that I am totally comfortable with how I look, I have everything mentioned above, but I dont care enough to let it affect my life, and I'm proud of that.  However, I still want to be attractive to my guy, I dont give a shit about anyone elses opinion of how I look, but his opinion matters. He has to have sex with one person for the rest of his life, and he chose me when I was 19 with perky tits and a great ass. I look much different from that now. I'm no longer 122lbs sopping wet, hell, I could cut off a leg at the hip and still not be back down to that weight (and to think that I thought that was fat!). My boobs droop a little, and my ass is slowly getting less firm, I have added about 50lbs (approximate as I havent stepped on a scale in ages) to my 19yr old body...so honestly, I often wonder if he still thinks I'm hot...I mean, I like how voluptuous I look, but does he? He says he does, but arent they kind of required to say that?

 I dont want him to be disappointed that this is all he gets. I dont want him feeling like he has to come home to somebody who has let themselves go. I know he doesnt really care if I blow up, but I dont want him to not care, I want him to want to come home to me...I want him to feel like "I GET to sleep with her!"

  He's far from romantic so I don't get those moments of him telling me that I'm beautiful. When I put my face on and put on something other than pajamas he tells me I look "really nice in that" or "pretty today", both of which also imply a comparison to how I normally look. I know, I should definitely not read deeper into a compliment, and I am grateful that I received his sweet sentiment at all...but, you know, I'm human. 

You know what he isnt required to do though? He's not required to put his hand right above my hip, where my waist starts to curve out (right at a fat roll I might add) and tell me that its his favorite part of my body. 

He's not required to walk past me when I'm cooking and very quickly plant a small kiss right at the top of my shoulder where my neck starts, sometimes he even inhales deeply before hand and kind of sighs after in a way that says "ah, home.", its extremely comforting. 

He's not required to use my very fluffy tummy as a pillow when I'm lying on the couch like a bum. 

I told him once that I wanted to go out and pick up other people, not because I'm not happy with him, but because I am insecure and want to know that I've still "got it" and his response was both extremely insulting and also extremely true and it inspired this whole post... 

"You wouldnt know" he said. "you wouldnt know if it was because of you or if it was because you were willing,"

 I told him that I'm sure I would know, that I could tell if it was sincere or not. And he quite bluntly said that no I wouldnt.

Do you realize how fucked up that is? Guys are so aware of our insecurities that they know exactly how to fake sincerity and get us to feel secure with them enough to put out. They know how to make us feel like we are a great person, an exception almost and not ugly...maybe not a 10, but certainly on the higher end of the scale, which for whatever reason makes us feel like we should sleep with them. But it has nothing to do with us. Now, this isnt exactly news, but the fact that we wouldnt know...thats news. Thats extremely unsettling, especially for someone who picks up women that I'm only genuinely interested in, men too...what sucks most about it is I have felt like just one of the guys for quite some time and it makes me question some of my best friends. It makes me wonder how many of them were playing me, were using our friendship as a way in, how many arent sincere, and didnt give a shit about me as a person??? He followed up his insult with telling me that he still wants me for me, and not just my ass...which is great...but it definitely didnt overshadow his "you wouldnt know". It was a lesson for me, and hopefully its a lesson for all the younger girls as well. 

Dont worry about societies expectations for your body, love yourself and your body, because ultimately, you are the only one that does.You will not know if anyone else sincerely loves your body as much as you think they do, and so what....as long as you do (as you should!) then fuck em. Do what you want with your body and to hell with everyone else, its all fun and games anyway.