Notes to Self

April 22, 2014

The mirror of the mind

I saw a picture of myself that was taken just a few days ago. I had no idea I looked so horrifyingly wretched.

I gained weight during my last pregnancy and haven’t lost any of it yet. So on top of the 40-50 extra pounds I was already carrying, I now have 30 more. I’m enormous. And hideous. I’m disgustingly fat.

When I was in college the eating disorder I struggled with all my life finally manifested in full blown bulimia. As I attempted to recover, I learned a lot about myself and my life’s battle with weight. In the years to follow, as I struggled to recover (stop purging), I gained a lot of weight but I also gained a valuable perspective- I had always thought I was fat yet now I really was. I looked back on pictures and couldn’t believe how ugly I thought I was compared to what I had become.

How we see ourselves is always with this ever changing mirror, distorted by the emotionally of our current psychological state. For many years I thought I was fatter than I actually was. Now I don’t realize how fat I am (that’s not to say I don’t think I’m fat, just that I didn’t realize the severity of the situation). In the past, all I thought about was my weight, how my clothes fit and what I imagined everyone was thinking about me and my weight. Now, I don’t think about me at all. I hope that my clothes are clean and not too raged. Most days I get dressed in the dark or out of laundry baskets – “sure, this will work” is my dress code.

I used to stand in front of the mirror and comment to myself how this or that was unfortunate and I recall reading how folks with body image distortions only see individual parts of their bodies and can’t see it as a unit. So the thighs may look big but in reality they fit the body as a whole. I have no concept of how I appear to other people. I don’t even know how I appear to myself. I stopped looking in the mirror. I don’t want to. I don’t want to see the wrinkles, grey hair and cellulite. When I do happen to catch my reflection the reaction is always a generalized, demoralizing, self-bashing qualification of my worth as a human being. But that’s not the point of this post.

What I find interesting is that since I became a mother, and maybe more so since I cut my family out of my life, I see my image as more than the reflection in the mirror. I see myself in the way my daughter looks at me. I see myself in the way that my new mom friends value me. And I see myself in the really big smile that my son gives me whenever his eyes meet mine.

Even though I am aware of my pathetic physical shape, and realize that my lack of any sort of personal time whatsoever is temporary, I am glad to have this realization that my weight is no longer the only way in which I define myself. It is a big part of my mental health, even in my current state of denial and avoidance. But lying in bed, cuddling my daughter and reading her a book – I realized she doesn’t care (right now) how I look…she cares how I love her.

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April 7, 2014

Giggles in the kitchen

I had a moment yesterday. It was lovely and sweet and had a big impact on me. And I thought I would share something positive.

 

My daughter likes to help us cook. She is actually quite good at cracking eggs! Yesterday I was making a pizza and she wanted to help (she says “I need the ladder!”, which is the step ladder). I was spreading the dough and she was eating mozzarella, and then she wanted to help spread the dough. After she touched it and found out it had oil on it she made a silly noise and we both laughed.

 

And then it occurred to me –  this little moment in time was bigger than I realized.

These are the happy moments that build memories and propensities and help her grow up happy and feeling loved.

These giggles were some maybe she would recall in fondness one day as she stood over the stove making pizza for her family. “My mother and I always made pizza together” she would tell her child(ren) as they ate mozzarella and squealed at oily dough.

I am filled with joy that I was able to live in that moment.

My cup runneth over.

April 4, 2014

Afraid to talk or have nothing to say?

Silence is difficult to deal with.

You wonder – is the person not talking because they don’t know what to say or do they not care to participate or are they actively shutting you out completely?

When you finally get the nerve to open a difficult conversation (albeit at maybe not the most appropriate time), it is a hard pill to swallow when the other person says nothing.

So, you know that wall of defense that may have only been a 12 foot fence? Consider my heart now surrounded by the Great Wall of China.

 

I have been thinking lately about how lonely I am. I lack a sense of true connection with anyone right now. Sometimes I want to pick up the phone or reach out for a hug and I can’t think of who would be on the receiving end.

 

I am at a loss in terms of my relationship with my husband. Not sure what to do to get back on the right terms. There isn’t a heck of a lot of time to talk and we are both tired and depressed. He says he’s afraid to say anything because anything he says will make it worse. But not saying anything makes me feel like he doesn’t care. We can’t move forward if we can’t talk.

 

Any advice is welcome.

March 24, 2014

Why can’t I ever just…

This morning I finally got up (sort of) on time and hopped in the shower while my toddler was sleeping and the baby was content (enough). My husband was awake so I wasn’t worried. And then I heard the crying…

Shortly after my daughter was born I joined a gym to go swimming. I used to swim competitively and I really needed exercise and some time out of the house. After all, babies can’t always have their mommy’s, right (or so everyone continuously told me)? The last night I went swimming (which was only the first few times that I went) I recall being in the water and thinking how wonderful this was and how I felt like I had come home again. I was enjoying the feel of the water, the smell of the chlorine and the fatigue that slowly overcame my (out of shape) muscles. And then I got home.

When I walked in the door my daughter was screaming crying and my husband was sitting on the couch looking completely spent and helpless. I can still feel the shock. I thought here I was thinking all was well and enjoying my time in the water and all the while the two of them were absolutely miserable. I felt guilty and frustrated at the same time. So that was the last time I left my little girl at night, that is until I was in the hospital when my second child was born (she was 2.5 yrs old).

Many times over the course of the first year or so of my daughters life I would be in the shower (getting ready for work) and thinking all was well, until I turned off the water and heard the crying. Soon I would always hear crying and got in the habit of shutting of the water int he middle of my shower to figure out if it was my imagination or was she actually crying. Regardless of whether or not she was crying, I would rush out of the shower, rush to get dressed and end up being overcome by the time I actually left for work. I had spent the morning nursing and pumping, packing bottles and lunches. I was tired! But my husband was able to have over one hour of personal time in the morning. I always thought that this wasn’t fair and the less personal time I had, the more angry I became over it (and this is the point of this post…keep reading).

 

This morning while I showered (and note that I hadn’t showered since Friday morning), I was in the middle of loving the hot water when I heard the knock on the bathroom door (which I only closed to avoid waking my daughter) and then the pouting. Oh crap I thought, this is terrific. I even thought I heard the baby crying so in the middle of brushing my teeth (yes, I do this in the shower to save time) I turned off the water. Yes little girl, I will be out soon! I shouted. But still she whimpered, sitting on the floor outside of the bathroom.  Great I thought and I turned the water back on – back to RUSH RUSH RUSH RUSH. And then I said to myself why can’t I ever just –

 

And then it hit me.

 

All this time I have been thinking that the fact that my children cry when I am not around, or when I am trying to do something (like go to the bathroom or make some seriously needed caffeine, I mean coffee) means that I have somehow failed.

 

Ah yes, that old chant. You are a failure, everything you do you don’t do right. People are miserable because of you.

 

I never thought your babies want their mommy because you have bonded so well with them and you breastfeed so of course they want you to hold them. Of course they miss you when you are gone.

 

Nope. I just think that I am a rotten mom and an even worse wife. This morning I thought how much my husband must hate me because I left him with this mess of crying kids. I should have done better, I should have made it easier for him and there were things I could have and should have done (that is if I were capable of knowing what the right thing is) so that everyone woke up with smiles and were happy, happy, happy.

 

Seriously? Even Mary Poppins can’t do that.

 

As for my jealous (ok, anger) toward my husband who gets to spend time clipping his nails every morning (I do this only when they start to dig into adjacent toes…keeping them trimmed is just a waste of precious time I don’t have)- it’s just self-loathing turned outward. I don’t do it right and I am a failure and terrible mom, which is why I don’t get any personal time but look at him all free and clear. No stress, no worry. I hate him (I really don’t – I truly love my husband, even when we are fighting). Why doesn’t he do the same for me? Why oh why can’t I feel free from the constant stress of worrying whether or not I am screwing up my kids and making them hate me and feel as unloved and as worthless as my parents made me feel – all because I want to make some damned coffee or sit without someone or something hanging on me for 10 f’in minutes.

 

And how exactly is that his problem?

 

So the theme of my current rehabilitation has changed from figuring (identifying) all the ways my parents taught me to hate myself and how it has manifested in my life, to figuring out how all that shit has fucked up my marriage. You don’t know what you don’t know. So help me know. I don’t think I am solely to blame for all our marital issues, but I also think that I have been difficult to be with for nearly 17 years and don’t you think he has developed some defense mechanisms and ways to tune me out just so he could survive? Like the other night when the baby was up crying and I didn’t want to get back in the habit of nursing him all night (he finally sleeps and only wakes 2 times!!!!) so my husband was trying to put him back to sleep – I said do you want to try a pacifier? I had one in my hand but instead my husband got up, brought the crying baby into the room where my toddler was sleeping to fetch the pacifier from the crib. Then I went in and said forget it, I’ll just nurse him. That must have been fun for him. (and there’s another lesson in this but I don’t have time to write about it right now). I realized that I have always said “do you want to…” when I really meant “would you please…”.  So last night when I wanted my husband to go to the basement and get the blankets from the drying I said wanna go get the blankets and then quickly corrected myself saying would you mind getting the blankets from the dryer.

 

It’s a small step, but a step. I wonder if he recognized it.

 

As for my lack of personal time and the effect any personal time has on my children…it is temporary. It will pass. And I need to see it as them wanting to be with me and not me being punished for not doing things right. I am a good mom and I show my kids love and respect and by wanting me to be with them they are telling me they feel the love and want more.

March 20, 2014

MIddle of the night blues

Filed under: Life's little things, Motherhood, Whatever — Tags: , , , , , — me2self @ 9:34 am

Since his birth, my son has woken every 2-3 hours to nurse. This left me with very, very little solid sleep. Just recently he started sleeping and only waking 2 times! How awesome is this! I will finally get to sleep!

Or maybe not.

Evidently my psyche believes that 2 AM is the PERFECT time to obsess and ruminate over all the big and little things that bother me. Lovely.

The funny thing (and not ha ha funny) is that the longer I am awake, the more angry I become and then the harder it is to actually fall asleep. So then I get pissed that I do this to myself. So I am basically awake from 1 AM-ish to maybe 4 or 4:30. I then turn off the 4:45 AM alarm, sleep until the baby wakes and then run around bat-shit crazy all morning to try to get out of the house “on time”. Now that’s funny.

 

 

 

March 11, 2014

If it’s in your dream it must be…

If you dream it then it must be bullshit, true or a little bit of both?

I feel like that’s the way I answer my life: somewhat full of shit and somewhat true – no, wait, only the first one. No, no it’s both at the same time. Wait, what? I’m sorry, what was the question again? I wasn’t paying attention; I was too busy dealing with my anxiety over what you will think of me when I answer and should I answer differently to make sure you don’t think I’m crazy…..

Last night I had a dream that my daughter was being comforted by the perfect mom – she looked like Darling from Lady and the Tramp (beautiful, hair and make up perfect…soft glow about her). I recall looking on as my daughter felt so loved as she was being sung to in a perfect voice and was engulfed in a warm (yes, glowing) embrace and thinking how ugly I must be to her and how unfortunate she is to have me as a mom. I could never look or sound like that. Maybe she’s better off…

 

So here’s the crazy part – last night during bedtime I spent a good 30-40 min nursing the baby to sleep. Just as I was going to put him in his crib I coughed (I have a cold) and he woke up. I was so annoyed as I am just so, so tired and stressed. My husband took him for a bit and my daughter cuddled in our bed. At one point my daughter decided she wanted to go back into her bed. She started caressing my face and telling me to sleep well and that she loved me. She even sat up and sang me a lullaby, pulling the covers up to my face. I thought to myself how wonderful she is and didn’t I do a good job making her feel loved and respected, since here she was giving it back to me. This motivated me to get up and nurse the baby again – to give him the same unconditional love and affection I gave her.

So what’s with the dream? I fell asleep thinking how lovely my family was.

March 7, 2014

Deliver me from evil

Deliver me from the communication evil that befalls my marriage. Help me chose the right words and impart the appropriate inflection and intonation.

As the adage says – it’s not what you say but how you say it. It’s evidently all in the delivery.

 

I had a phone session with my therapist the other day. I simply do not feel like I can take off of work – feel like I have too much to do, too much responsibility and lose too much time pumping.

He had the following things to say:

  • My marriage is laden with communication issues and they need to be resolved.
  • What me and my husband say, and what is heard, are very different things.
  • Both of our feelings are hurt and he’s not informing me when his feelings are hurt so we can’t discuss it and pain just festers.
  • I assume I understand his thought process. I most likely do not.
  • Furthermore, we do not understand each others intentions, motivations or understanding of situations, events, etc. But we think we do.
  • We need to develop new ways of communicating. We most likely need couples therapy.

 

I don’t disagree with any of that. Relationships are a two-way street and problems can never be one person’s fault. I also think that we hold our own life frustrations so close to the surface that it’s hard not to hold the other person somewhat accountable for our emotions (i.e., our response/reaction must filter through these frustrations and thus carry a part of the anger).

Here are some examples:

My husband commented that I have criticized him for cooking. I do not recall doing this, although I do recall being annoyed that it seemed he waited until we got home to begin cooking. From my perspective, when I get home I am hungry. My daughter is also very hungry. He is unemployed and I don’t see why he couldn’t start cooking earlier. So we either wait for dinner, and get more and more annoyed, hungry and cranky, or we eat snacks to hold us over…but then aren’t terribly hungry for dinner. We also then go to bed shortly after eating. But I have no idea of what he did that day such that he couldn’t start cooking earlier. I never asked. I never wanted to ask. How on earth would I phrase that conversation so that I didn’t hurt his feelings and simultaneously start an argument? So I say nothing, but get annoyed. This happened last night. And I didn’t handle my anger very well. I am sick (head and chest cold) and extremely tired. I just wanted some dinner. I am also annoyed that I am overweight, can never seem to eat well balanced meals and the summer is coming so I will again have to suffer through the heat and humidity in jeans (no, I would NEVER show my legs!) and constantly be reminded of the fact that I am fat and disgusting. So the fact that he didn’t have dinner ready reminded me of all of these other negative things and that’s really why I was angry.

On top of that are my feelings of jealousy  and “it’s not fair” and, more importantly, self-blame of what am I doing wrong?, all of which get intertwined with my frustration about the state of my house, my lack of personal time and the constant drain on my body and mind. I have said many times that on the occasion where I actually get some time to myself, the cat is then all over me. It never ends. So when I start thinking about the things that need to be done, I start feeling like my husband doesn’t do enough – e.g., housework. I feel like he gets to do whatever he wants during the day without any demands on him or his time and I don’t ever get that. So I get angry about the clothes still in baskets, the overflowing garbage cans, the cutting boards that haven’t been washed for weeks (over a month?) and the mess everywhere. And I think he should take care of it – it’s only fair. But I am also struggling with feelings of inadequacy as a woman, wife and mother. Don’t all other mom’s have immaculately clean houses, never a mess anywhere, dinner always prepared ahead of time? Aren’t they all a healthy weight and not a complete embarrassment to their daughter (forget that she’s only three)? I am clearly doing something wrong if this is the state of my house and my life. I am clearly not adequate and clearly failing miserably. All of this anger and frustration (ok, let’s face it, it’s anxiety) get turned to jealousy and anger towards my husband.

On top of all of that, I then struggle with how much of my feelings are “acceptable”…am I asking/demanding/expecting too much? Shouldn’t he be doing this stuff (note the extreme use of “this” as all encompassing!) or am I being unreasonable? What the hell is normal? I just assume that everything I think and feel is irrational and extreme. So now I don’t trust anything I think or feel and get even more angry and anxious that I can’t figure that out. Another layer to work through – more emotion to coat my words.

So when I open my mouth I have already assumed the response based on this crazy thing that I do. It will always be my fault. I am always to blame. I become more and more defensive, anxious and angry. I don’t know which way to turn or what to do.

February 25, 2014

It’s begun again

I am starting to (again) get angry at myself for making what I always deem as wrong choices (e.g., taking a different route to work and not sure it was any faster and maybe even longer….by 2 minutes).

I feel like I’ve taken a giant leap backwards in the progress I made over the last year+.

I feel like everything is always a fight or a hassle or a negative. I rush rush from this task or event to that one. If I spend time on one thing I feel like anxious about the other things I didn’t work on (like right now- wanting to get this off my chest and write in this blog but really I have so many other things I need to be doing; and the anxiety is just building). I constantly forget to do things and I seem to always have to pee!

Life shouldn’t be this kind of constant battle. I know I have my issues/pathologies and I am far from perfect, but why do I feel so alone; like no one has my back? And on top of it, I don’t feel like I deserve to ask for help.

It will be almost a year since I last spoke to my family members. I still don’t regret my decision, but I sometimes feel like I lost all my roots. Well, I guess I did! Ha! But how do I replace that or what do I build in its place? Who’s looking out for me?

I feel like if I don’t reach out to people I wouldn’t have any friends or communication with them. I struggle with always thinking people don’t really like me. I struggle with trying to figure out what “normal” is. How does a normal person react, respond or act in any given situation. I always feel like my thought and action is pathological. Everything I am and everything I do is pathological. I don’t know how to cope with that.

So the recent email from my husband, albeit riddled with whatever he brings to the table, has left me feeling like there is no possible resolution. If I am always to blame, if I am always wrong and always the problem…and if I can’t “fix” myself….

Each day I do the best I can for my family. I work hard to make sure I always have a job (my husband has basically been unemployed for three years). For my children I am always trying to make sure that the tone in my voice and the words I use are loving, supportive and in their best interest (ok, I do lose my temper sometimes, get stern and threaten to take away her toys…). I try to make sure my daughter has activities to encourage growth in all aspects of development. It’s about what they need to grow up feeling unconditionally loved and with the self-esteem needed to be un-pathological (whatever – make up your own words and you’ll see how much fun it is!).

I am exhausted. I don’t have any outlet for stress and no time or mechanism for exercise. I am lonely. I don’t sleep well, I cry and lately all I do is eat (so not psyched about my fat). I guess I am depressed.

And no time for therapy. I think I am screwed. Worst part (ha!) is, I can’t even drink because I am breastfeeding.

February 23, 2014

6 of one, and you’ll kill yourself over the other dozen

My baby wakes three times a night to nurse. And he’s really consistent with the times at which he wakes! I am exhausted!

Last night we somehow skipped the 1am feeding and I got to sleep from 11pm to 4am!! Woohoo!

Now you’d think I would just be happy and move on.

Nope, not me. Here’s the problem.

I breastfeed so, if you don’t know, it’s a supply and demand type situation. When he reduces his demand, my supply decreases.

I usually pump in the morning and get 6-8 oz which is all extra milk. This goes to the freezer supply that I am obsessively creating (in case I dry up early or have to take medication, etc). Because we missed that feeding, I pumped less milk this morning. And if he continues to sleep that well, I will get less and less.

So on one hand I finally got some really good sleep and wasn’t I absolutely ecstatic when I woke up! But leave it to me to beat myself up because of the flip side….

Isn’t it funny how are never happy when one thing happens because of the change that happens on the other side. You get a new job but then there’s the stress of performing well. It goes on and on. I can never just be happy with my current place; always stressing and worrying about what is and isn’t or what should and shouldn’t be.

Back to the themes of my pathologies…it’s never good enough, I am never good enough. That’s what it boils down to. Self- imposed, Ludicrous standards. And that is exhausting.

February 22, 2014

There’s nothing to say

Filed under: Family, Relationships, Therapy — Tags: , , , , , , , , , — me2self @ 11:15 am

“As you presented your argument, it is impossible to address it without making things worse.

This is big and beyond my ability to address fairly.  Your statements are unfair.  I fear it will do me no service to  return them in kind.

I am spending way too much time deciding how to address this.  Because I must.  Point by erroneous point, play armchair psychologist, or give you absolution for your misplaced guilt and take it all upon myself.

At the root of this email seems to be your feelings of guilt and unwillingness to let the past remain in the past.  You are also attacking to off-lay some of that guilt so that you can be free of the burden.”

 

This is how my husband responded to an email I sent to him.

 

I think I need to see my therapist.

 

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