When I first paid for this website back in January, I know I was in a manic phase. I was happy. I felt good. Unicorns and rainbows and all the good hugs. But the Universe always seems to have a strange way of making sure that I don’t get too uppity, so I didn’t know the next few months would bring anxiety attacks, and periods of terrible pain searing through my body so that I can’t move. It would bring me bills and rent that I can’t pay. A job that I got and then lost a month later. It would bring more tears than joy, but more than anything, it would bring anger. Just so much rage compressed inside. I feel like a ball of hate. I would say tiny, but I am fairly certain that, on top of everything else, I have gained a lot of weight.. Hooray depression and pain and not doing anything.. I could just put the fork down, right? But there is a certain amount of joy found in a goddamn cookie and right now, I will take that little joy.
So while I was hoping that perhaps this blog would be all uplifting and joyful, I just don’t have it in me right now. I have joy , don’t get me wrong. I find joy watching my children when they are actually getting along, when my son asks me to plug the Christmas lights that I have strung up above the bed on, and then says “Merry Christmas momma.” I find joy with every hug and kiss I get from my daughter. So no, I am not sitting here saying that all is hopeless and oh woe is me. That’s worthless and useless and doesn’t solve anything. But I have filtered all my depression and sadness into hate too. I want to be whimsical and fun but I hate the four walls around my. I am tired of sharing a 14’x20′ room with my two children. I hate that I am in debt to pretty much every single friend I have with no real plan on how to pay them back, let alone next months rent or bills, and I hate pretending that everything is fine. I hate that I have been in so much pain over the past week that I haven’t left my bed and have been perpetually high just to ease some of the pain.
I hate that when I try to tell doctors how I am feeling, they kind of just shrug it off and assume that I am trying to score pills. Spoiler alert: I’m not. I hate that I can’t find stable employment. I am thankful for my online work, but it was never meant to be primary employment, merely supplementary. I hate that my “husband” is incapable of finding a job… for like 5 years now. Somehow, filling out applications, making resumes and finding a job that he might enjoy is my responsibility too.
The bad days beat the good days.
Talk is cheap.
I’m tired of talk.
I felt a little broken last night. I had been putting off an assignment for my English class because it involved reading some very moving poetry and connecting it to Hurricane Katrina and the wording of some of the victims. But, I was one of the victims. I am fairly certain that around word 200 of my 1199 word response, I lost track of the actual topic, and just wrote my pain and frustrations and anger that still haunt me 13 years later.
You never really know how much impact something has had on your life until you are forced to really think about it. And Katrina was there along with house fires and tornadoes that I have had to rebuild from too. But these experiences, these devastations, will break you if you allow them too. They can break you immediately or it can be much later.
PTSD is a real thing and many people who have never been to war, have still encountered a battlefield. And it will sneak up on you with no trigger warning. And you won’t always be ready. You don’t have to “get over it.” We learn to embrace the feeling and the fear, in the moment, and then try to let it go. But the memories are always there. Lurking, waiting, and seeping into different facets of your life, whether you are aware of it or not.
I feel like , if I write in my blog anywhere other than in my bed, I am doing a disservice to the name of my site. That might or might not be a lie but I do have a pretty comfortable bed and warm blankets so this is where my writing shall commence.
I am tired. Tired of having to feel so strong all the time. Tired of smiling when I want to cry. But we do what we do to move forward and be successful. Except when sick. Then there is a drain. A drain of everything: energy, motivation, ambition, Kleenex, water, and patience. But I try to not let the drain hit me too hard. I am a mom. I have seen the commercials about not having off days, but I don’t buy their lies. Any medicine that makes me feel better, puts me to sleep. Daytime, nighttime, homeopathic, highly addictive… all words. Therefore, I have found that I just modify my “momming” style. Blanket forts, Oreos, Curious George, and 4 hour nap blocks for mommy. Don’t judge. It works. I owe a debt of gratitude to The Man in the Yellow Hat for seeing me through a week of drain.
Thank you for musing with me!
Great ideas emerge from useless fragments of thoughts.
Thus I begin my journey in blogging once again.
I purchased a Passion Planner and one of the things I really enjoy , and dislike, about this planner is that it has a “Passion Roadmap” where you sit down and take time to write different things that you would love to accomplish if there were no barriers. Then you break it down to what’s realistic and actionable an you set forth a way to get it done. Well, one of my goals was to write more. So I thought, “What better way to make myself accountable than to begin a blog?”
And furthermore, I thought if I purchased a domain, especially while funds are really tight, I would be more promoted to invest time in myself and make my left and right hemispheres work together by utilizing creative writing.
So, the journey begins.