In a Phoenix Phase... again

I've battled with depression in the past. That hopeless feeling you get when you feel you're stuck in a situation you just can't get out of. I haven't dropped to that level yet, but good God, I'm having a rough time lately.

My sister put it into perspective for me this past week in an email. It was hard to look at, but so true. My entire life has changed - 95% from what it was less than six months ago. I'm burning again, and I know there's major rebirth - there's some hard seed deep within that's just beginning to crack open to new possibilities I've never considered. I get that. But philosophy aside, this period of my life sucks. It really, really hurts. And I don't feel like I can take much more. Here's a snippet of the changes:

- Single mom
- New house
- Loss of brother-in-law, who I loved dearly
- Major financial changes
- New job
- New job isn't what I'd hoped for
- Loss of a business, built from a dream
- Loss of steady child care thanks to the loss of the business
- Many, many upset families thanks to said business loss
- New dog, again. A puppy that chews, to boot.
- Health issues
- Closing down the second business
- Failing a client for the first time in my life
- Living in a house starting from scratch. No furniture. No cable. Constantly breaking appliances.
- No place to go to to relax, calm, renew
- Missing out on the time I had with the kids - narrowing from 5+ hours to 2 hours a day of free time with them, IF I'm lucky. I'm half the mom I was. Hell, not even half. I'm tired, I'm cranky and I don't friggin feel like playing Barbies. Sheesh.

And so, yeah, I'm down in the dumps. I haven't been out with any of my friends in over a month. I haven't had my regular girlfriends over on our regular nights, who I never realized made me so much saner. I've made plans, but every time I do, I end up having the kids, dealing with a crisis or emergency or working a trillion hours that won't allow me to get away for a moment of peace.

So, I guess it's just a funk. My temptation is to go to the doctor, to ask for something to make it all feel better. To find an easier way out than getting up each day, battling through it, coming home defeated. But I won't. Not yet. Given that long laundry list of changes, i think it would be abnormal not to feel unhappy, unsatisfied, forlorn. I will get there, and I will mark each day off the calendar until I get to that day where I can once again wake up, knowing I can make it through the day and that it will, indeed, be a better day.

Until then, burning down to ashes, awaiting my reawakening.

Full Range of Emotions

Those who know me know I'm not an overly emotional person. Sure, I'll tear up like any other chick over 'The Notebook,' but when it comes to having a good cry or feeling overly elated, those emotions are few and far between. In fact, when trauma and drama hit, it takes me weeks, sometimes months or years to dig down deep enough to understand how I'm truly feeling.

I've found this week, however, I'm teetering constantly on the edge of emotion. Giddy about the new paths opening up in life - everything's about to change, and I'm ready to open and embrace it. I've been living in the shadows for years, it feels like, and it feels good to begin to feel more a part of the world again.

But there are also some deep, sad emotions that I neglected for too long that have been brewing into a very strong concoction. The last year (well, really, the last few) was a tough one - lots of loss, on many levels. All year I kept plugging through thinking something new, something great was around the corner if I could just keep my chin up. And for the most part, I did. Only when January came did I really begin to think about the path of the previous year. And for some reason it makes me sad to think about it. I'm missing loved ones I lost, I'm missing some small components of life that will never be the same and more than anything, I'm bummed about how much the girls grew and changed without my seeming to have noticed it. It just all happened so fast.

That's not to say the year was not without great things. Of course my girls and the joy they bring me every single day are the most important part of that, but there were also the wonderful  friends that I grew closer to than ever, and who are constants in my life now. I felt surrounded by love and friendship in my worst moments, and was thankful to be able to return the favor. Many of these friends had even worse years than I did. Yet we all find a million reasons to laugh each time we're together. And I renewed a lot of old friendships that had been neglected for years, too. It felt good to reconnect - it's been hard working from home for more than 7 years and feeling so... alone.

The other day I put a quote on FaceBook that sums up where I am right now...

"And the time came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom." - Anais Nin

I'm ready to open up and embrace life fully again. So, if I'm suddenly teary around you for what appears to be no reason at all, bear with me. I'm kind of digging these new found emotions - and am trying not to put my feelings at bay any longer. For years I tried to stave them off - like they were a sign of weakness. It's time to let go and bloom.

Not what I had planned...

I awoke this morning, once again, to chaos and disaster. This time the girls had taken the newly purchased DragonBerry Shampoo and Blueberry Burst Body Wash and lathered everything from waist-height down on the lower level of our house into bubbles (or at least applied a slimy film which would later be "bubbled"). Seriously, what did I do in my past life to deserve this retribution?!

Every baby doll, both dogs, the coffee table, all the Disney plasticine toys, the Shliech animals, the bathroom sink, floor and both girls' lower extremeties were covered in the sticky goo. "But Mommy," Katie told me as I repressed a scream of rage as I realized the magnitude of the latest morning disaster, "We didn't go outside. And now the house smells good." I rinsed and washed, producing even more bubbles (much to their delight) and still found a spot on the carpet that is deeply stained with shampoo. I ran the steam vac over it this afternoon only to... you guessed it... produce more bubbles.

I threatened Katie with an eternity of time out if she makes one SINGLE other mess before I can hit the bottom of the stairs in the morning. Double eternity if she lets Sadie out of her crib. Her reply? Sadie can get out on her own now. Oh crap.

I never got a chance to memorialize George Carlin, one of my all-time favorite comedians who passed away last week. I did so this morning by muttering, thinking or screaming into a pillow six of the seven dirtiest words from his old 70's routine. The 7th word just didn't apply, or I would have used that one, too.

To make it all even better, I'm having some hellacious withdrawals from a medication I started a couple of months ago. When I had Katie, I began to suffer from anxiety attacks (though I didn't know that is what they were at the time). I did some medications back then for a few months, got my head screwed on straight again, and weaned off of them. I'd been able to control them since (now knowing what they were and how they came on) on my own, but in March they began to rear their ugly head once again. I wonder why? That was about the time the girls started their early morning escapades. So, I went to my primary care "nurse" (do doctors still exist?) and asked for something to help me along for a while. She gave me Cymbalta.

Two drugged-out weeks later I started having weird symptoms. Increased anxiety (but no panic attacks) and newly onset depression that I'd never before experienced. Insomnia. Cold sweats. Hot flashes. Irritability (yes, I can be worse!). Constipation like a... well, like it was not good. Then last week in New Orleans it doubled, and I added the shakes to the list. Enough was enough, so I quit. Cold turkey. I had only been on it for about 50 days, so figured I'd do every other day for a week and stop.

Now I have more fun symptoms. Night terrors (which I've never had before). Aching all over. Sharp pains in my legs and feet. Blurry vision. Extreme fatigue. Chills. What the heck?! I looked it all up online tonight and found out that these are all fairly common withdrawal symptoms from Cymbalta. I should have known, given my (and my kids') history with meds. I'm about to go the Tom Cruise route and get all psycho about pharmaceuticals. Tomorrow I get to visit with the lovely nurse who suggested this route toward wellness. I can't wait. She has no idea what she's in for. If I'm in a padded room by the end of the day, please promise to visit and wear a sunny yellow color to cheer me up.

So yeah. After being home for two nights full of night terrors, bathroom visits and incessant sweating, I'm awoken to what looks like a slime attack from a Ghostbusters flick. The devil mommy on one shoulder was oh so close to convincing me to spank them both and send them to bed, as advised in nursery rhymes and by most parents with more than 5 children. But angel-Montessori-loving mommy on the other side balanced her out and the girls ended up with a stern admonishment, a few timeouts throughout the day as required and the threat of eternal timeout and no-playdates-ever-again for Katie should she ever decide to do this again.

Please, please, let the threats work. I need a morning off!!!

It's broken...

You can say that about every big ticket item we own almost. This quarter has resulted in record spending in our household, and NOT for Christmas gifting. The death toll includes:
- Over the range microwave
- Oven
- Dishwasher
- Refridgerator
- MacBook screen
- Central heater for office
- Jason's computer (HP)
- Retaining wall in front of our house

Just when I thought we were done with things giving out on us, the battery died on the truck two days ago. No biggie - my sister got it switched out and it ran again. For about 24 hours. Then as I was driving to one of Katie's friends houses yesterday, it died again. We jumped it, got back on the road and less than a half mile away, the lights started flashings, strange beeps followed, the steering went out (which is a BIG deal with an Expedition), then the brakes. Luckily we were on a dirt road and I managed not to lose control and got off to the side of the road. Diagnosis? One alternator. Sweet. My mechanic brother-in-law advised that this is the beginning of the end for the 10-year old truck I love.

I called a tow truck, mom came and rescued us from the side of the road and we got home safe and sound. The tow truck driver informed me that this was the beginning of the end of the truck. Thank you. So I've heard. I came inside, warmed some leftovers and sat down at our brand-new dining set to feed Sadie... and the chair leg split down the middle.

Sadie, of course, thought it was hilarious. "BowKin" "BowKin" she keeps telling me this morning, pointing at the chair laying on its side in its carnage. Then she laughs. Yeah, kid. HILARIOUS.

MAJOR drama and ANGRY blog. Reader beware.

I win the SUCKER OF THE YEAR award.

OK, so it was supposed to be a fabulous weekend - a real celebration. Sadie turned 1, and we had a party to celebrate with our friends and family who supported us through this past year. It was something I'd looked forward to for months. But this weekend has been extremely stresful.

I had major issues with some people at our party (described below), but the most scary thing all weekend was a close call I had with Sadie tonight - she stopped breathing. No kidding. She started screaming and 2 hours later, was really worked up. I took her for a walk, and she started to do this weird intake, and her breathing got slower. I ran back home with the non-jogging stroller (fun) and threw her in the car to take her to the emergency room, yelling in at Jason that I was taking her to the emergency room. I hadn't even gotten to our first light, when I heard her breaths stop for an extended time. I panicked, prayed like I've never done in my life and floored it, doing 60 on a 25 mph road to the nearest facility - a Patient First. I got her out of the car and she was blue and her eyes were rolled back. I ran into patient first, accidentally banging her carrier on the way in, and she came to. She pinked right up, and by the time I got her into the exam room, was coherent, though sweating profusely and still breathing oddly. They watched her a few minutes as I took her out of the carrier, she gave a great big cough, and seemed to start breathing fine. They treated me like I was insane, even when I told them that she'd had a heart defect, and it could be serious. Finally, after only a few minutes, she was back to her normal self - blowing kisses at the doctor, smiling at everyone and trying to get down to crawl.

They all thought I was nuts. I have this major bruise on my arm from a blood test last week, and Sadie - while we were there, mind you - developed two bruises on her head. The doctor asked me if "everything was OK at home" (no, I'm not abused nor is Sadie), then sent me on my merry way; admonishing me all the while that they are not an emergency room, just a 24 hour clinic. I told him I knew that, but just wanted to get her on CPR or intubated if needed and that they were the closest place (which my cardiologist had told me in our early scary days of having Sadie home). So, I left with my tail between my legs, feeling like the fool of the year after the weekend I've had. Sadie's perfectly fine now. I think maybe she swallowed something perhaps.

Which brings me to my angry venting section of tonight's blog. While it was wonderful to have everyone over, and my eyes were brimming as I looked around the room at all who were singing happy birthday to my little miracle baby, I leave this weekend behind feeling vastly disappointed. I'm also furious, exhausted and worn out. So I'm venting. Which is, frankly, why I started blogging in the first place. Venting and spreading news. So, now that the dramatic news of tonight has been told, there's a major vent session coming up. Here goes:

I frankly don't care if this family finds out I'm blogging about them, as they are NOT welcome in my home again. They were casual friends at best, and have the most horrid parenting and child-rearing skills I have seen - thus they have bad kids. Because they overheard me talking about our upcoming party at another friends' party recently, I felt obligated to invite them (Sucker award #1). Their children were completely unruly this weekend - they spread sand throughout my house, left towels wadded up in my bathrooms, turned on the floorboard heater in Katies' room full blast and almost burnt the house down, tore apart her room (2 times), stayed the night due to the story I'll tell below, woke at 5 am this morning SCREAMING (for fun) and waking everyone in the house. I had gone to bed at 4 after cleaning behind everyone, and sleeping on the floor of Sadie's room with baby blankets wadded under my head as a pillow.

The parents were no better. I got bamboozled into leaving the party I'd been waiting all year (Sucker award #2 - I thought the husband had been drinking and thus could not drive - turns out he hadn't been and just wanted to stay). I had barely had more than a few bites to eat all day of the food I'd been craving for months, when I hurried out the door to the hospital with the family's matriarch. We ended up in the very room I gave birth to Sadie in (which holds scary, sad memories for me) for hours, while the husband stayed to hang out with MY friends and let his children tear apart our house. Turns out it was a false alarm. I'm thankful she's fine and the baby is OK, but am still too angry to really acknowledge it much. I called the husband after been at the hospital several hours and told him to come over to get his wife, and that I was going back to my house. It took 2 phone calls before he agreed to go to the hospital.

The couple came back to my house "too tired to drive," which I could totally understand after that drama, so being the polite hostess I let them crash in our bed, leaving us with no place to sleep as we had a full house. Her husband then proceeded to tell all my guests all night to "hush" so she could sleep (HELLLOOOO?? MY house?!), then went to the room and locked the door - after I told him I needed to get pillows and a blanket out for myself. I knocked on the door to retrieve them, and he told me to go away. I told him who it was, and he said he didn't care, to go away. NIIIIICCCEEEE. This morning, when their kid had been screaming/talking loudly for over half an hour at an ungodly time (still very dark - about 30 minutes later I checked the clock and it was 5:30 am) and after 3 warnings, I told their child to quiet down or I'd put him in time out. The kid told me I couldn't do that. I told him that it was my rules and my house and I darn well could and would, giving him my best "scary mommy eyes" and he finally quieted down. For five minutes. The entire family snuck out shortly after without so much as a goodbye or thank you.

I mean really, come on. How can people be so rude? Never, in a MILLION years, would I let Katie or Sadie run wild, tearing apart someone's house and not admonish them, help clean up or at least apologize. Never, if my spouse were in perceived danger and on their way to the emergency room, would I stay behind to visit. Never would I sleep in a hosts' bed and leave without at least scribbling a note of thanks. Never would I LOCK my hosts out of their room when they needed something. And by God, I've only spanked Katie a few times EVER, but those kids butts would be so red you could see them from a moon if they disrespected any adult or household the way those kids did. Did they even stop for a moment to think that I, as the hostess of the party for my 1 year old that barely survived her first year, would like to rejoin the celebration for my child, instead of sitting at the hospital staring at the clock? Nooo. But at least the husband had a good time visiting his "friends." Jerk.

So, I spent most the party getting everyone and their kids settled, barely visiting, thinking I'd have the afternoon to relax and visit, only to deal with their drama all night. Good gosh, I can't tell you how much I despise this family at the moment. They are hereby banned forever from the Thies threshold. Today's drama of Sadie's episode has me darn well close to nervous breakdown status.

The good news is that Sadie slept through the majority of her party, so at least I didn't miss too much of her celebration - I just missed the socialization with our friends. The better news is that she's safe and sound in bed now, sleeping like (haha) a babe.

Tomorrow is Katie's first day at a new preschool as well as some medical tests for me. Let's see what kind of new drama we can stir up here.