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I am trying to practice being happy and content about different things in my life.
It’s actually really hard. I am used to complaining about everything; I guess the hatred and anger are so deep rooted that it feels fake to be happy about anything.
But I try.
This morning I am happy that I am on my way to the gym and I can just walk there and I don’t need a car.
I am happy I live in Miami Beach. It’s a cute little town and it’s nice to be a local.
I am happy I feel better about being a mom.
I am happy I get at least 4 hours of sleep every night. This is a biggie. It’s not in one chunk but the total exceeds at least that 4 hours.
I am happy I just finished writing my first book.
That’s it for now.
So I’m 33 years old and I have no idea still what I want to do with my life.
I blame it on my borderline personality disorder and my dreams that are too crazy to ever make true. And the fact that there’s too many of them. And that I have no idea which one I’d really even want to work for.In my life I have managed to get through two degrees, some classes here and there and even a TEFL certificate. I have this far
- picked strawberries
- cleaned hotels
- been a nanny
- worked at Starbucks
- worked in insurance admin
- been a receptionist
- interned in TV and radio
- been a newspaper journalist in two different countries
- worked in software sales and corporate account management
- worked on a database project
- taken care of dogs and horses
- been a personal assistant
- done marketing and social media marketing
- owned my own coffee brand business
- translated written content
- taught English
- written college essays
- and…I think that’s it?!
I have no skills in my own opinion yet I also feel like most jobs are below my pay and skill grade. I would like to save the world. I also have dreamed of having my own talk show, working in the UN, owning various businesses…yeah I wish I didn’t have to have a 9 to 5 because it makes me anxious, depressed and miserable, but I do want to work and have a career.
What to do?
Honestly, time flies. It’s so crazy! If you asked me what I’ve been doing for the past 10 months I could not tell you, apart from nursing, staying up all night, trying to pull myself together during the day and watching the baby grow.
He’s so big. I really feel anxious about the fact that now I am officially old, the next generation is here, and he’ll keep growing and I’m a parent.
I never thought I’d want to parent. It’s been a rollercoaster ride, but now that he’s bigger things are kind of starting to calm down. I feel like a failure a lot, but I’ve heard all moms do, so nothing new there.
I am trying to decide what I want to do with my life, but nothing new there either.
Right now I want some tiramisu. I’m trying to go vegan but these random cravings are effing it up for me.
I am kind of finally starting to feel like a mom. I don’t know what that’s really like otherwise because I have had a weird relationship with mine, but I now get to choose what kind of mommy I’ll be and it’s kind of fun. I get anxious when he cries in public but then I’m like whatever, fuck them, I don’t care what people think about me. I care for him the best I can with my limited abilities and he’ll be fine.
I can’t shelter him from everything and that’s fine too.
He’ll be a good boy.
I haven’t posted in a while yet again – what a surprise, right? – but as I lie on the couch crying and feeling the urge to cut, I figured I should jot my thoughts down instead of cutting my arms because I’ve made a silent promise to myself that I would never ever do it again.
I think I owe it to my baby. I don’t care if I owe it to myself, but I already feel bad my son has a mommy whose arms people stare. He doesn’t deserve it. I think it kind of would break my heart if I was someone else and saw it on TV for example, a kid with a mom who cuts herself.
Kind of like, when I watch news clips on Facebook where the little kids are stuck in cars with their druggie parents passed out in the front. First thing I think about is, that kid doesn’t deserve it. So I try to look at myself as an outsider and try care for my baby in a way that I would be proud of if I was an outside looking in.
I haven’t cried since the day he was born. Wow. 10 months. I haven’t felt this lonely either. The fact that I barely sleep and I’m busy with him 24/7 shields me from my negative thoughts.
I just can’t shake them today. I’m always really depressed on my birthday. Another year always rolls by with all this shit that makes me really sad and depressed.
When I was little it was the abuse and my dad hitting my mom and the violence and the sadness and feeling sorry for my mom and hating my mom too. How it was her fault he was like that.
Then later on it was being bullied and being alone on my birthday and how enough people didn’t show me love and make it a special day for me.
I always wanted magic, fanfare, big gifts and parties and surprises and rose-colored glasses to see the world through.
And it never came.
I invited many, many people to celebrate my 16th with me and one person showed up and made excuses and left.
In college I got drunk and cut my arms and wanted to kill myself.
I always wanna kill myself on my birthday. Somehow it feels nostalgic.
I probably feel like that too, today, but I know those days are over where I could indulge in my shitty feelings and feeling sorry for myself and feeling like a victim and being able to get drunk and cut and take pills and plan how I’d kill myself.
I have a child now. He needs me. I need him, too. I am overwhelmed about being a mother 99% of the time and wonder what the hell happened to the person who I was, but sometimes I look at him and he looks and me and smiles and I feel like maybe one day I’ll love this thing here.
He does deserve a good life and happiness.
I’m still breastfeeding so no getting drunk for me. He likes the milk. I feel like I’m a worthy human being, keeping this little nugget here alive with my white gold.
Ahh. Sadness. Tears. Utter loneliness and emptiness. Heart-breaking feelings of loss and worthlessness.
Lots of emotions. At least I feel something, right?
Oh gosh, I mean to post every day and just can’t.
Depression, exhaustion, baby, laziness, sheer overwhelming feelings. Everything seems too much and I can’t even type down my thoughts. I wish I had the energy to blog every day because I think it would help me, but I can’t.
Hmm what’s happened. Baby M will be 9 months old tomorrow. Time flies! I am still not working. Did I mention my job let me go? I was working from home until they fired me. Trying to get unemployment but it’s taking long, they’re fighting it and next step is a phone mediation meeting between me and them and the Department of Economic Opportunity. It’s all fucked up. Unemployment in Florida is nothing anyway, no one could actually live on it. It’s fucked up they give employers so much power. It shouldn’t be up to them to decide if I get money for a few months or not! Fucking fuckers.
Looking for jobs.
Watching a lot of documentaries and series on Netflix.
Worried about baby and his development. I’m not good enough mom.
Gaining a lot of weight.
Over a year since hubs and I had sex. We have no intimacy. Lots of issues but they’ve been brushed under the carpet. We’re parents now. Baby comes first.
In therapy. Last therapist quit and I’m seeing someone new. I like her.
We took a trip to Finland to see my family and it went really well! I am coming to a lot of realizations about my home and my people and I realized I wish my mother was here to help out with baby. I like how she was with him. Very laid back and natural. I like Scandinavian values and child rearing.
Okay that’s all I can write for now. Exhausted.
These are not really talked about that much. You only see it in the news if a woman has killed her kids and the article will vaguely mention “postpartum depression” as the reason. It is difficult for our society to talk about a mother being mentally ill because she had children.
I have found a wonderful resource here in Miami, a postpartum support group run by a clinical psychologist, where it’s easier to talk about the struggles we go through as moms. I think moms are meant to be this cookie-cutter happy image that we see on TV, but the reality can be so much different. It often is for a lot of women!
I was able to admit I didn’t like my child in the beginning. I sometimes hate having the responsibility of caring for a child. I’m not ME anymore. I’m a mom.
The baby still only sleeps in two-hour stretches and I’ve started co-sleeping. I’d go crazy otherwise! I worry he’ll fall off the bed though.
I was diagnosed with postpartum depression and anxiety and I am back on Effexor (Venlafaxine) and at every visit my psychiatrist wants to raise the dosage. I fight back. I worry what it’ll do to the baby as I’m exclusively breastfeeding. He says very minute amounts go into the milk but I still worry.
My anxiety has hit the roof as I’ve told before. I had an episode of no sleep for almost four days when the baby came home from NICU. I struggle with insomnia on a daily basis. Going to sleep is scary! I am legitimately scared of falling asleep.
I’d recommend getting in touch with Postpartum International if you need support, seems like they’re a good resource for postpartum mood disorders.