Have Ramen, will be okay

Kevin works for Hai Street Kitchen now. Gone are the days of lemonades and red straws and here comes the days of sushi burritos and omg, ramen. So much awesome ramen. I am sitting here, eating said ramen, happy I voted and ready for bed time. Today everything feels okay. Yesterday, Sunday? It did not but today, ramen makes it okay.

The “my life got stolen from me” diet, has been a weird one. There are days where I eat nothing and other days where I can’t get the cheese crackers in my mouth fast enough. Some mornings, it’s 4 cups of coffee, black and others, one with sugar is hard to suck down. I’ve lost weight I needed to lose but at the expense of lots of normalcy. I’m out of control. Being out of control makes me feel horrible. I feel horrible most of the days. I can’t seem to figure out how to regain control. I paint; out of control. I cry; out of control. I go back to work; out of control. I write and say what I want; oh em gee, out of control. I stop writing, stop talking; so out of control.

I have no control except to sit here and enjoy my ramen.

So I will take that control. It’s all you can do when you have a daily battle with mental health combined with immense trauma.

This is mental health awareness month. I have a deep struggle with mental illness. One that no god or higher power can fix. It’s a chemical thing. One that makes me so sad and sometimes, unaware of what is actually happening instead of what the manipulations and manipulators are telling me. I am a high functioning mental health person. I can wake up each and every morning and plan out my suicide but still get the kids ready to go to school, sew a Halloween costume and make dinner, that actually tastes good. I’ve never been to “that place” when I would actually do it, but I know, very well, the feelings before it.

I see a therapist now. My March sent me into a very dark place and my April, well it dug the hole for my coffin. May has been somewhat better. I was able to apologize and to realize that my struggles aren’t something I am making up in my head. They’re happening, to me and not happening because I did something wrong.  This is because I found a therapist that is so very much for me. I couldn’t have met her at a better time. She doesn’t make me feel bitter or angry. She is the first to tell me that when my actions are awful, that they are awful but there are reasons behind them and the reasons aren’t because I am crazy or mean; the reasons are because I am getting my ass kicked and sometimes, our feelings are out of our control. We just need to learn to reign them in, in a healthy way and not let the white rage come through. She and my army of friends have saved me from filling that May hole.

May is mental health awareness month. I am gonna find some control in educating people about the “sad”. Tell them about my brother; he lost to the sad. About myself, who can’t see her beauty because the demons are so big. I will use May to show people that have mental illness aren’t always the people on the street corners chanting obscenities. That sometimes it is the mother at the library with “bitchy resting face” or the funny lady who loved her family fiercely and was fine one day and gone the next. I want people to know the signs of scary mental illness. That often suicide isn’t the tweet that reads, “I am not okay” but it’s the giving away of oneself so that you have nothing to take to the afterlife. And that sometimes suicide comes out of the blue so you have to really look closely at the people you love.

I also want people to know that mental illness doesn’t make me crazy. Sure, it makes me sad but is also makes me who I am. Well, parts of who I am. And I am truly loving, truly giving. It’s in the parts of me that paint and draw and sew and would do just about anything for anyone. And while the sad will keep me from your party, it will not keep me from holding you in your darkest hours. I think anyone who really knows me, knows that is me.

So please, educate yourself. Know that praying doesn’t cure true mental health issues anymore then dancing naked in the woods does. Learn the signs of the suicidal person. It could be your daughter or your son, someday, scary as it is to say outloud, it might be me. And the “not sick” me, wants you to save me, because I have so much to live for.

Image result for mental health awareness month may 2017

Hi! I’m Gail, the voice behind Mimicking Motherhood. I started blogging after the birth of my 2nd child as a way to connect with far away family. Things have definitely changed since then. Now, mama to five, this is a place to help connect with other mothers, who feel like me.I love to make and write all while trying to figure out how to be myself in the world of anxiety and depression. Glad you stopped by.

I’ll join your circle

The days are long anymore. And even though I find that I have the want to go back to the old normal, I often get stuck in this perpetual motion that actually takes me nowhere. It’s as though I am walking on a treadmill. Getting nowhere but wishing I was at my goal. I don’t like it. It is getting less sad though. As I slowly introduce some life back into my lungs, I am finding it easier to let go of the evil that is no longer welcome in my head. I slipped once. A jolly middle finger at the devil. I can’t even deny it felt good. Awesome really. It felt human. Because I am human and I am still here.

Spring is always busy. We added a boy to the baseball schedule which ended up working out fine because Davis’ team doesn’t start until mid-May. Devlynn’s wrapping up lacrosse already too. It’s been a blurry few months. I am not even sure I’ve withheld the memory to say I was here even though I have the scars to prove I was. Trying to figure out the end of year gifts and coaches appreciation is proving hard in my head but it will get done. I always get it done. The reality is it’s always been me keeping things afloat. I’m grateful now for a teammate though instead of just an investor.

I dyed my hair blue. My poor white sheets are blue though. And I think I will literally have to recolor weekly to keep it where I want it. A dear friend got me a gift card to a hair salon and I may have them bleach it for me, just to make it easier to keep up on the color. I like it. It feels like me. I like not feeling so plain. I wish I could see the beautiful people keep telling me I am.

This weekend I went to a Moon Circle. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t even sure what it was but I am so eager to say “yes” these days, that I just blindly went. It was one of the better decisions I have made in the past few months. I felt uneasy turning into the driveway; so much so I turned around. But once I got there, I knew I was supposed to be there. It was an awakening. I’m excited to see where it takes me. I pulled these Goddess cards that told my story. I received a much-needed gift and I emotionally vomited on this new friend. It was like the secret flooded out onto the earth and the pain started to slip away. It was like I knew that this was just a temporary uncomfortable. That this awful wouldn’t be there forever and was actually on the way out. Out of sight, out of mind. The world is too big a place to keep running into that which is ruining your peace. I’m taking my peace back.

Healing is a funny thing. It ebbs and flows like the waves of the ocean. Coming in often softly and with a sweet and soothing sound. And sometimes that same healing pulls away briefly…. I like to think to create a bigger wave of rejuvenation.  Sometimes when it pulls away, I get dark but I am trying to remember that the wave of health will always return. It always returns. I see it all around me. In the shapes of my children tucked into their own beds. In the warmth of my own bed, filled with comfort and love again. In the white sheets, now tinted blue, that I wash every couple of days because I love how it feels and smells to go to sleep in fresh sheets or to read enveloped in a place that no one can ever steal the peace from again. I see the healing in the smiles that greet me each day and the silly text messages and in the in hand holding. I see it in the flowers on my loved trees and in the warm and wonderful messages, I received daily. I see the healing when I don’t feel like I am mourning all of a sudden but starting new instead. Like a rebirth. We’re constantly rebirthing, aren’t we?

I don’t know that I will ever understand why these things happen. I can’t waste the time to try to figure it out anymore. I guess all I can do is appreciate that even though it took a tragedy and, holy hell, a lot of pain, that it helped me to start rediscovering myself. I won’t pretend that it’s over or that I’m at peace with any of this. I am not there yet. Not even close but I want to start to appreciate the journey. I want to know myself again and stop getting lost in the “what ifs”.

Even if that means the occasional middle finger.

Hi! I’m Gail, the voice behind Mimicking Motherhood. I started blogging after the birth of my 2nd child as a way to connect with far away family. Things have definitely changed since then. Now, mama to five, this is a place to help connect with other mothers, who feel like me.I love to make and write all while trying to figure out how to be myself in the world of anxiety and depression. Glad you stopped by.

And there are good days

There are good days and there are bad days, and this is one of them. -Lawrence Welk

Kevin said he was going to do yard work today. At 4:30 am when I woke and peered out the bathroom window I thought, “ya right, it’s gonna rain”, in a sort of disappointed voice inside my head. I love when he does the yard work. The smell and sounds remind me of home, even though I am still not totally sure where home is these days. I like to watch the littles chase after him with their bubble mowers and dirty faces and we eat lunch on the porch, watching tiny-giant ants looking for lunch bits we’ve left behind. I’ve missed these days. Where we connected. We are connected now.

There are bad days. Sunday was a bad day. It will not rest well with my soul for a while I fear. Sunday turned into a Monday and then Tuesday, the longest, most painful day of the week. I made a mistake. I cried. I yelled a little and I drank a half a bottle of wine. And then it was Wednesday and I got sucked into the abyss of bad days. I won’t let that happen again. Today, I cleared my browser history. I turned my phone upside down. I promised myself I wouldn’t look. I wouldn’t respond. And I won’t. Therapist Erin told me to get a sticker to put on whatever radiates the sadness I’d fallen prey to. So that I remember to take a deep breath. I’ll walk my beautiful children to the Dollar Tree and purchase those round smiley face stickers I’d bought once before to praise the potty. I will put one on my phone. I will put one on my PC and I will remember to put one on social media. I will not cry today. I will not cry for any other reason than that I want to. Today will not be a bad day. I am promising myself there will be fewer. I will write when I want. I will likely feel afraid again and shut it all down but I will talk myself into coming back, perhaps minutes later,  and maybe only after reading the ass kicking texts from girlfriends, or in this case Beckyfriends. Those will be the good bad days.

This is not a bad day though. This is a good day. Today, I whispered to a tiny soul that mama needed to breathe. I smelled his tiny sweet head and kissed his tiny ears. And mama got a shower and I got to feel the bliss of true and kind love. I got to feel his tiny breath against my neck and feel his tiny heart beat against my own. And I knew, just then, the pain of what was coming would be okay. Endurable forgettable. He walked with me and smelled lilacs, maybe for his first time and we talked to dogs and birds and butterflies with his cousins inside my hands and holding onto my heart.

This is not a bad day. I found new music, the creativity to paint and start a long put off project for someone I really like and want to make this for. I put the flannel in the wash which  says my soul is ready to sew again. I opened the windows and let in the sounds. I opened emails, just in time to find an invite from someone I wanted to be friends and who might just wanna be friends with me. And my soul took a breath. And my heart said to me, “this is not a bad day”. I signed up for something new and scary and fresh. I responded to a few texts. I made a promise to have coffee. I commited to cake pops. I am finding myself inside the hurricane. Inside the rubble. I’m feeding the birds and they’re feeding me. I am finding myself above the lies.

I made an appointment to start my sleeve. Five bunnies, one little boy. A baseball, a mouse, a camera and sharp sewing scissors. Left arm. Not right. Right is for Gram. She’s been gone awhile now. I am remembering that I know all the goods as well as the bad and that it takes bravery to have chosen this path. This good day is telling me I am not the monster.

This is a good day and I am not a monster. This is a good day and I did not do anything to deserve this. This is a good day.

Hi! I’m Gail, the voice behind Mimicking Motherhood. I started blogging after the birth of my 2nd child as a way to connect with far away family. Things have definitely changed since then. Now, mama to five, this is a place to help connect with other mothers, who feel like me.I love to make and write all while trying to figure out how to be myself in the world of anxiety and depression. Glad you stopped by.