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.

The last day I carried you

The day your brother broke his leg I knew of you. When they wanted me to go back and get X-rays, I knew of you. Struggling with the idea of you, I hadn’t told your father and when they needed another x-ray, I stared into his eyes, hoping he could read my mind. I think he knew about you too but didn’t actually know you, yet.

That week I stood at the dining room table and the word “Zika” came out of someone’s mouth. Your sister had just come home from Belize. I felt my stomach dip. I wonder if that was my first sign you wouldn’t make it to today.

We left for the beach that weekend. I carried your brother, your cousin. I walked up and down the beach and back and forth, collecting shells and memories. I felt the gush. Running back to our vacation house to check, I found the red. I tried to hide it from your dad. He knew though, that something wasn’t right. And I told him and I said goodbye to you. Sandra tried to tell me that not all bleeding meant a loss, but I knew you were gone. The guilt of my sadness had taken you. Six kids are too many. We’re not in a good place. How will I do this? But you were gone. I laid in the bathtub, alone, bleeding the pieces of my heart that I didn’t know I wanted until they were all gone.

You were gone.

You’d have been due today but you’d have been born next week. I always have babies that are late. Had babies.

I had babies.

I’ll have no more. Parts of me are okay with that. Most of the parts. Then, as I wash and fold the tiniest of clothing to send to baby Ritter, I weep, mourning you. You were my baby. A piece of my heart and a face I will never see.

I’ve posted little secrets about today, passively and quietly on Facebook. Hoping someone would recognize my sadness and mourning. Afraid to tell people of your loss, I wanted someone to tell me it was okay. I have been fortunate to have had a few people who did. I wanted someone to hold me though and drink in my sadness so it wouldn’t hurt so bad. Because it felt crazy to be so sad when I have five little things to be so happy for.

I’d posted on my large families board, one said: “oh it’s your age”, another reminded me we didn’t have to be done. I knew we were though. He didn’t want. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even imagine the comments I’d of received had we announced another one. “You don’t have to be done,” but I am. I have to be now. So much has stolen that choice from me now. So many people and so many things. 40 is coming. I am finally getting to the days I can watch the game and hang out with the adult people. I have to be done now. There is too much at stake.

I’m lucky to have Ritter now. Lucky to be able to breathe in his new. Holding him is like holding my own. And he knows my heart because he’s kind and an old soul. I’m lucky to have him.

Today though, I am going to feel sad. I am going to cry for you and remember the last day I held you. Making wet footprints, collecting the shells as though they were memories. Kissing baby heads and being a happy family that week. All that happy, I remember….

 

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.