One Breath at a Time

There are many days when taking one breath at a time is the only way I get through.

I tell myself more often than I’d like to admit: one breath, one second, one minute, one hour at a time. When I am alone – truly alone; no guy or kid in the house, just the cats & me – I sometimes go to dark, dark places. Places where I am certain my children hate me. Places where I am the worst mother, the worst HUMAN, in the entire world. I know deep down that is not the case, but still.

As I said before, I cry more than I should. At least I feel that way. Stupid little things set me off like seeing a boy grab his mom’s hand on the way into the grocery store or a baby smiling at me at work because I’ve waved & given her a big smile. My heart breaks on a daily basis & I know it’s all my doing. You can tell me until you’re blue in the face that I am not at fault for the way I’m feeling, but it never works. So many people have tried. The thing is, when that darkness sets in? Nothing gets through to me. It takes time. It takes breathing & crying & talking to the boys, no matter how much it breaks my heart at that moment.

There are people who have asked me if I’m dealing with depression. Probably. I’ve likely been dealing with it for years. I have this grand idea of getting on a service like Talkspace [because for real, with my schedule the way it is, I am one of those people who literally does not have time for in person therapy] but there’s the issue of paying for it.

When my dad died, M called our doctor’s office. We still use the same PCP & he made a phone call that made me realize the benefit of still being technically married sometimes outweighs the negative. He was honest. I’d been back & forth between the ICU & home for two days. I hadn’t slept. [By the time my dad’s heart beat for the last time, I’d gotten maybe 45 minutes of sleep in about 36 hours.] I made a crack to my mom [I genuinely need to blog about how the universe works in mysterious ways & my mom just happened to be in Delaware the day Dad coded] about whether or not the doctors who came in to ask me if I wanted to autopsy [no] & told me they had to do an official examination so they could pronounce him [I understood that wholeheartedly] could write me a prescription for Xanax or Ambien or anything to help me sleep. That’s where M making a phone call came in. He made the call & went to pick up what our doctor called in & have I mentioned that I’m grateful as hell for him & I’m so glad we’re still friends despite all of the things we’re dealing with? If I haven’t, take this as my notice. I still adore that man & I am desperately sorry our marriage failed, but he’s the father of my kids & one of the best friends I’ve ever had in my life & I’m glad we seem to be keeping that friendship. All of that being said, the doctor called in a prescription for Xanax. I’d only ever taken it once when I had an MRI so this time I only ever took half a pill. I needed to sleep.

I don’t think I’m a Xanax person. I’d rather be unmedicated if possible. I also know I need to schedule a physical & talk with the doctor who is taking over my PCP’s patients [he is retiring]. I’d like to remain off of medication because there are so many complications with the Moyamoya. However, M has seen the new doctor & she knows what Moyamoya is, so that is immeasurably helpful. I’m so tired of explaining it to people. It’s medical condition & you’re a medical professional, either read my chart or figure it out. Please.

I am working through this in the best way I currently know how. I got a gym membership & I am set on using it. Not only because I feel that it helps me, but also because I’m in a wedding in September & am unhappy with the turn my body has taken in the last year. I’m starting to write again [hi, hello, thanks for reading if you’re doing so!]. I am drinking a lot of wine because that helps, too, & I don’t want to be judged for it, thanks. I’m planning on reading more this year. Self help, true crime, fiction, & nonfiction. Nothing is off limits, so if you have recommendations, please throw them my way in the comments. I had this idea to take my journal & write down one thing I like about myself every day, but that hasn’t happened. Maybe it will in the future. Who knows? My life is chaotic, but I’m learning to own it.


What a Difference a Year Makes.

A year ago today, I did maybe the hardest thing ever.

I drove away from Delaware, & from my babies, to start a new journey.

You see, M & I agreed in October of 2017 that we should separate. Part of that separation was me moving to Virginia.

I know, right? That’s a LONG way from my kiddos. [Roughly 4.5 hours, for those of you playing at home.]

It’s not easy. Not at all. I go back to Delaware for about a week once a month. I have a place to stay [with M & the boys] & I have the opportunity to work [both at the restaurant I’ve been working at for nearly 5 years & for M, whenever he needs help].

So. In a year. I have been separated. I have driven one car basically into the ground. The boys were here for summer break & again for the Thanksgiving holiday [they get the entire week off]. This summer, I took a new position at work which has been simultaneously chaotic & enriching. I started dating.

I’ve grown as a human being. I’ve grown as a mom. I have done a lot of self searching.

I can’t lie & say this has been a walk in the park. I’ve already said more than once it isn’t easy. I miss the kids constantly. I cry more than a human ever should. I have learned to appreciate the time I have with the babies more than I would have if I’d stayed in Delaware.

That being said, I am most definitely moving back. Being away from the boys is way too difficult. I don’t know when it’s going to happen, but I hope this summer. That’s my goal, anyway.

2018 was both an awful year & an amazing year. I got a position at work I’d longed for, for well over a year. I moved out on my own, which I’d never done before. In December, my dad passed away, so 2019 is going to be another year of firsts in a way I didn’t expect so soon.

Please forgive the awkward. I haven’t blogged in a very long time. This year . . . Maybe I’ll do it more. I don’t think I can make any promises though. But thanks for listening to my rant.

What?! Twice in a week?!

Once again, I’m going to ask you not to adjust your monitors. To be perfectly honest, I don’t know if anyone is even following my little corner of the world any more. I have likes on the Facebook page, but what even does that mean anymore?

I got distracted updating my About Me page & now I don’t even know what I came here to write in the first place. It was probably something stupid & controversial like how I think Marvel blows D.C. out of the water. Or maybe it was about how I’m several years late to the party & finally caught up on Game of Thrones just in time for Season 7 to start? It’s apparently my M.O. to have a show be six seasons old before I get into it. I think I tweeted about how quickly I got through the Walking Dead. There were definitely only two or three episodes of season 7 for me to watch when I was entirely caught up.

Which – no spoilers – but WHAT ON EARTH?! I don’t have any idea how people who watched the show in real time waited months to get new episodes. I’d have been dying.

It was possibly about how there are three letters in the alphabet that, when strung together, make my anxiety a level 10,000? Yeah, those letters are M-R-I. Fear not, this time it’s my ankle, not my head. I am a little disappointed about how my doctor lied to me & told me I’d only be about waist deep in the machine because that’s definitely not what the lady who scheduled me said. The conversation went: “Are you claustrophobic?” Yes, extremely. “How tall are you?” 5’2″. “Hold on. [comes back on the line] Yeah, you’re going to be in about halfway up your face. Is that okay?”

NO THAT IS NOT OKAY. But I’m going to tough it out because I am a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need to be drugged to get through an MRI. Okay, that’s a lie because I totally need to be drugged to get through an MRI when I’m going into the machine head first. We shall see how this one goes.