Friday, February 14, 2014
Don't get me wrong, I love my man. I love my kids. I love my friends and the rest of my family. I do. I just don't like having a day dedicated to having to prove it. Or worse, hoping to be worthy enough to receive it.
"How much do you love me? Oh, just a card worth? Wow. And here, I got you chocolate! Bitch."
I know it's not a contest, but it has always felt that way. Especially in elementary school with the dreaded cardboard mail boxes. I was sure my cards with be met with reactions of disgust. I feared I would get all the ugly ones in return. No one ever seemed thrilled with all the time and effort I put into picking just the right crappy ass card for each classmate. And if I just assigned them at random, the brats would read too much into them and tease the recipient of my sappiest one. No, Sir Poopy Head, I did NOT give you the "key to my heart!" It just says that!! Be glad you one from each kid in the class and shut up!
Needless to say, I was glad that torture stopped after 6th grade. Well, sort of.
Saturday, February 8, 2014
I've been told in the past, I have a way with words. That I'm articulate, outgoing, well spoken and intelligent. At times I would agree. Around close personal friends, I have the gift of the gab. On behalf of my children, I have become quite the advocate and ambassador. With a keyboard at my finger tips, paragraphs pour out with reckless abandon. Debate me in a topic I'm passionate about and it is game on!
Put me in a social gathering of 5 or more people however, and I lose the ability to complete an intelligent sentence.
Words become foreign. Thoughts jumbled. All eyes seem to fall on me and suddendly I find myslelf paralyzed in a panic I can only compare to stage frieght. I want to hide. I want to run. I want to be anywhere but there. Even with groups of people I have known for years. My anxiety defies all logic and understanding. Despite all reassurances, and acceptance from those around me , it thrives and at times is crippling. It has kept me from birthdays parties, reunions , and countless other events I would have otherwise loved to have attended.
Social anxiety. It sucks. It sucks away your will. It sucks away your ambition. Your drive. Your dreams. Your overall sense of self esteem. And replaces them with the lie that you aren't good enough.
Social Anxiety is a crippling fear built up deep with in, based on a lie. A self told, deeply rooted lie.
I am good enough. I am worthy. I do belong.
And so do you.
Thursday, February 6, 2014
I know. I've been MIA for... ever. Confession? I was truly thinking about closing this blog down. Lack of interest on MY part. I suck at blogging. No big surprise there. But then I saw the blog stats. Wow. It has had a lot of traffic for being so small. And no surprise. Bipolar Disorder is a hot topic lately. Either you have it, you know someone with it, you saw it on TV, or your favorite character now has it. Stigma is being fought against a lot here lately and I am thrilled.
Saturday, May 25, 2013
Why, you ask?
My 3 children. My 3 beautiful, sweet, caring, screaming, fighting, overly sensitive, ready-to-throw-down-over-the-remote, "Mom, he's touching me!", "No! Bugga, that's MINE!", "MINE! MINE! MINE!"... children. Don't get me wrong. I love them. Truly, I do. I just can not stand the close to constant bickering and fighting.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
I love my children. l love my children. I love my children. Things you chant to keep yourself sane in the midde of the night.
Been awhile. I know. Been busy being... *sigh* Bipolar. Well, that and 40, falling apart, and a mom.
|Isn't he cute? This is so me right now.|
Can I just adopt him as my mascot?
In case you are wondering... yes, this blog entry is going to be predominately me complaining. Sorry.
Well, ok. I guess I can add something not so "me bitching about me," and more worrying about my kiddos. Caitlin the Bipolar w/ ADHD and Liam, my sweet ADHD boy. I do have one other, but besides her wild child fits and Diva like demeanor, she hasn't warranted trips to the doctors and doesn't currently take any medication except for the occasional pain med or cough syrup. Yet.
Monday, March 11, 2013
Lately, I have been thinking "Wow. We need to cut this poor girl's hair for summer." Yesterday, that thought extended some. "Wow. We need to cut this poor girl's hair for summer. Look at all the split ends. Especially up here on the top. Wait.... huh?"
So, after talking to her about it, she breaks down and says she has been snapping hairs during math. Surprising. I thought she was good in math.
"Not here lately. I learn it and then the next day, I forget it all! Then the tests, I get confused! And I pull my hair..."
So many things happen in my head at this point. Concern being the main thing of course. Luckily, she has an appointment already made at the end of the week. I calmly comb her hair back in a top pony, suggest snapping at a bracelet instead, and remind her that she will be seeing the doctor soon. She cries. I cry. Dad comes in and I find myself in a defense posture mode, like... "don't get on her, it is a bad moment" and he just hugs her.
This isn't the first time she has shown signs of this. Before meds, she would suck on her hair, rub it on her lip, and eat it. She would also chew on her shirt. At the time, we didn't realize "IT" had a name: Trichotillomania. Luckily, it isn't her main issue. In some, it can be really bad... like, stomach issues, bowel blockage, etc. Bad.
Looking into it, made me further understand one of my own weird stress relievers: Dermatillomania. Didn't even know there was a name of it! (I am learning lots of crazy stuff today! ooh. "Crazy." Bad pun.) Dermatillomania is the picking of the skin. Popping of zits, scraping of scabs, picking of dead skin.... sorry if I grossed you out. I only do it when I am beyond stressed and/or in the need of a serious med change. Seems my daughter does hers for the same reasons. Warning signs are always handy to know.
This appointment can not come soon enough.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Realizing that I am NOT handling the whole "pre-cancerous" thing as well as I thought. Don't get me wrong, I am elated we caught it this early. I am thrilled we caught this all when we did, but... I still have huge moments of "WHY ME?!?!?" And I feel guilty that I have them. Stupid? Eh. I don't know what or how to feel anymore. My anxiety is at an all time high right now. I never wanted to make a big deal out of it. Not like it's gonna kill me. I mean, it is capable... but medicine is sooo advanced now, and the plan is practically fail safe. Worst case scenario, I have a small procedure done and *poof* gone! And yet, I am still a hot mess.