Walk in the Park

Took the boys for a walk at a local park that surrounds a huge lake. They all have cameras and I was itching to test out my new one.


Crazy palm tree.


Oh hai, you stay over there, mkay?

I had no idea what this was, apparently it is a Gar fish? They have exoskeletons. Very cool, at least to three little boys.

our view

The badass playground.

It felt good to be behind the lens again, haven't really taken any pictures in more than a month. The kids had a great time too.

Broken

A few months ago this blog was about dog balls and now it has turned into a darker place. There are still dog ball moments and I will write about them soon, this is just my place to vent for now and I need this outlet...

Looking back now it was bound to happen. I try to be tough, but really how much can one person take?

I am starting to feel stronger, mentally and in that, I am starting to process things that I was shoving to the back of my mind.

We are done having babies.

I have to accept that.

Someone close to me just had a miscarriage and she said to me, "I don't know how you made it through six times". The truth is, neither do I. After Kai I thought the world was caving in and couldn't fathom trying again, but as time went on I realized I not only could, but HAD to.

When the second loss came we rationalized it was just too soon, my body had to heal. But that was bullshit. Because then came loss 3, then 4, and then 5. After each of those months would go by and we would both say, there is no way it will happen again.

And then it did, May of last year I had my 6th miscarriage. Next to losing Kai it was the most brutal by far. And I said never again. But then the months go by and maybe just maybe...

But here is the thing... I have had every test known to man. There is NO reason. Which means there is no way to fix it. All the mixes of hormones, supplements, and aspirin aren't going to give me a baby.

After this recent mental health breakdown I realized I CAN NOT go through it again. I am already broken, hanging on by a thread. One more loss and the pieces will all blow away.

So I have to face that I. am. done.

Going slightly crazy has taught me a few things more...

I have to let go of perfection. Yes a 4.0 in college is cool, but not at the expense of me. My house will never look like a magazine. I am not going to be a size six (not that I have even attempted that one). I am not super mom. I am not always the best friend I could be. I am selfish sometimes and I need to stop feeling so damn guilty about taking time for me. (no one ever makes me feel bad about it, it all ME)

New Year

New me?

Or maybe going back to same old me. I am not there, but I am working on it. Or maybe I won't be the same person on the other end of this.

Of course life goes on around you, even when you fall apart. My extended family has suffered several blows. We all just keep on trucking. There is no choice.

My resolution this year is one thing...health; mental and physical.
I can finally walk again. There is pain, but not nearly as bad. I am no longer using a wheel chair at Disney. It only took 12 months longer than the doctor said it would, but I am getting there. So I want to try to walk daily. At this point, even more importantly I want my head to be fixed. I am getting there on that front too, but every day is still a struggle.

I am still scared. Way more than I need to be. I can't control it.

I feel like all I have done is bitch, whine, and cry for weeksmonths. I am to the point I can fake it during the day. I can be a mom, cook dinner, do the shopping, ect, things that I couldn't handle a few weeks ago. The headaches are getting better and more manageable. I also am able to have happy thoughts again.

However there are moments, like right now as I write this, that I am filled with fear and paranoia. My fingers itch to Google all the bad ideas in my head. To build that fear into full blown hysteria, like adding fuel to a fire. Part of my brain wants that fire. I just want it to shut the hell up.

I did that three words about me thing today. The most used word was strong. I don't feel strong and I hate it. I am supposed to be strong dammit. I always have been.

Fighting

I promise someday soon my blog will go back to being more upbeat and focused on the positive. I am still struggling in a dark place and can't seem to find the strength to write about happy things.

I know I am coming across as whiny and ungrateful. I assure you I am far from that. We are very blessed this Christmas. Even in our hardest times financially we are still blessed. I have a wonderful family, three great kids, and an incredible husband. I KNOW in my periods of rational thought, all these things are true.

Sadly, my brain floats in and out of rationality. I keep thinking this funk was just sprung on me out of no where, but looking back, I have been dragging it along for months. I can't place why or when, just that my joy for life left at some point. Maybe the shock of this summers breast cancer scare never left. Though I do remember a few happy weeks. Then this damn bone spot sent me REELING over the top of feeling down into full deep dark depression/anxiety attack that won't end.

I have had a LOT of medical testing. All of which came to one conclusion. My physical issues are coming from my head. Yes there is a spot, but I was flat out told by two dentists that is was nothing to be worried about. So what did I do? WORRY, OBSESS, PANIC. Why? I wish I freaking knew. Other than the fact that yes, I am mentally ill.

I am having more good hours than bad since I started the meds on Thursday, so I am considering that a win. I am still scared, no, terrified. That there is something wrong with me. And that the SIX total doctors I have seen, missed something. WHICH IS NUTS. Again rational me sees this. The headaches have already started to get better, as long as I can avoid the panic attacks, I can keep the head pain to a minimum.

Irrational me, not so much. She would rather Google for 12 hours until she finds the ONE damn case of jaw bone cancer (yes it is that rare and hard to find) and match up one of 30 symptoms, and cause myself to panic more.

I am smart enough to know this is not normal. However, short of the meds I am finally relenting to, I have no idea how to stop the crazy voice in my head that says every sneeze is something deadly. Hell, my obsessing has even gone to my dog's health. Not normal.

So... now I fight. I drag my ass out of the fetal position in my bed, take my meds, and fight to feel like a normal person again. To be concerned about health, but not obsessed with the worst case scenario all the time.

I have had so much support online and from friends and family. I am annoying I know, but the constant reminders, that I am indeed, OKAY, help more than you can know.

Where I Am Right Now

When I posted last, I was talking about my desire to be NORMAL. That week I was in the middle of a HUGE fall. A fall that ended up with me debating going to inpatient care.

The headache started 3 months ago, coming and going. Then five weeks ago it didn't go. I've had a nonstop headache for FIVE weeks. Two clinic and two ER visits later, it was confirmed they are tension headaches from anxiety (with a little TMJ added in for fun). On Sunday my face went numb. I was terrified. BACK to the ER. My blood pressure was scary. VERY high. They said again my anxiety was the cause. Apparently I was hyper ventilating and didn't even know it. They gave me Ativan after talking me down to an almost normal bp.

The Ativan was NOT my friend. I cried...and cried. Deep depression joined the still blooming anxiety. The headache raged on. Last night I sat in my bed sobbing, rocking back and forth, wondering if I could DIE from the feeling I was having. My family and dear friends kept me together until my appointment this morning.

The doctor was great, he listened to me and was very understanding. He gave me two different meds. One was for immediate help and one will be long term. The immediate one worked right away. I went from a level 10 panic to like a 4. Headache is still pounding away, but the second med is supposed to help with that! Praying it does.

I wasn't sure I was going to talk about this. MENTAL ILLNESS, is such a hard phrase to swallow. For most of my life it has made me feel like less of a person. I fought needing meds for a LONG time. I have taken them twice, once when I had PPD and was actually suicidal. I can't fight anymore. I am still having a hard time with feeling like a failure and I am still scared. It's going to take time to accept that I NEEDED medical help.

As I write this my morning Klonopin is wearing off and I feel the panic creep in again. I am trying to wait until closer to bed to take the second one. Please pray that these do the trick, that I can be normal again. A HUGE bonus will be if the Pamelor takes the headache away.

Thank you all for reading my tweets, private messaging and calling. You have held me together.

Also thank you to my dear husband who is always my rock. This is far from over. It can take some trial and error to get meds right. I feel like I have some hope now.

Normal

I just want to be normal.

I want to not worry about everything.

I don't want a simple spot on an x ray to turn me into a nonstop panicked disaster. I think the worst. Even though the dentist thinks the white blob behind my wisdom tooth is probably nothing more than an extra unformed tooth, my fucked up mind goes straight to cancer. I can't breathe. I over research on the internet. Even though the research still says it's mostly likely what the dentist thinks, I still panic.

I wouldn't wish a panic attack disorder on my worst enemy.

I can't take this shit anymore. It seems that I am allergic to all the SSIR's meds that could help me.

I can't imagine what it's like to not think that every scratch bump and bruise is something horrible.

I feel so alone in this.

Not you too Santa

I hesitate to post this after the whole "My Son is Gay" hoopla, but I am annoyed and this is my outlet sooo....

Today we took the boys to the mall to see Santa. They were totally stoked. I am 90% sure we are in the last year of innocence in this department. They are 5,7,and 10 (though N's adjusted age it 4/5) and still fully believe that Santa is all knowing and full of the awesome.

He was a great looking Santa, real beard and all. He listened patiently to the boys tell him what they wanted and what fabulous pretty good okay children they were all year.

Then as they were about to leave, he made a joke. A joke that made me want to punch him in his jingle bells.

He said, "So you all want Barbies, RIGHT? Pretty Barbies, like little girls. ha ha ha."

Doesn't seem like that big of a deal to most boys right? Except that my sweet son ASKED ME FOR A BARBIE. Because of his autism, he had been too shy to tell Santa most of his list. I am almost thankful for that. What if he HAD told Santa he wanted a Barbie? Would he have teased him?

My son asked my why he had said that afterward, he doesn't get joking all the time, though he is funny as hell. He quickly brushed it off and forgot about it, but I haven't.

Maybe I am overreacting, being sensitive about this. I don't know. Sigh. I just think Santa should be a little more sensitive and less gender obsessed.

Side note. No. I don't think my son is gay, not that I would give two shits if he was. He likes girls a lot and has a little girl friend in school. With his mental delays and autism he just doesn't seem to care about what should be for girls or boys. Santa could learn a thing or two