A Blog About My Feelings

I’ll be honest and say that I never really liked Valentine’s Day. And it’s not because I’m cynical or hate love. I don’t even bat an eye when couples glorify each other on this day; it’s what the overall idea of how we adapted to celebrating our loved ones with attention. True, we should be showing our partners what they mean to us on a regular basis, but, sometimes people aren’t that romantic or comfortable.

My husband isn’t here and will be missing Valentine’s Day completely this year and I would be lying if I said it doesn’t make me a little sad. It makes me sad I won’t get to kiss him. It makes me sad I have to rely on a fifteen-thirty minute long phone call and/or a twenty minute video call with him. It makes me sad he won’t surprise me with something he thought I would like or be able to have a reason to prioritize our relationship a bit over the normal duties of our lives.

So, I thought it was the perfect time to practice self-love with a challenge that I found on Pinterest. No matter what your relationship status is, or how you feel about Valentine’s Day – YES, it’s important to show love to those you care about but YES, you should also show love to yourselves.

The first day is to share my thoughts and I thought that it would be best to do this in blog post form. Not only will it keep me focused and have a space to document, but because I’m at my parents’ house and I spaced on bringing my notebook. *Gasp!*

Day 1: Write out your feelings.

It’s hard to take a hard look in the mirror and say that something has to change about your life. I’m tired of allowing the trauma to trickle into my life. I’m tired of having to explain the torment I felt from the sexual abuse I have been exposed to and it being the reasoning behind my fucking anxiety. Am I going to stop swearing and being negative? Well, no. Because I have never been the girl to say, “hey guys! How are we all DOING todayyy??!” that just isn’t me.

Me sitting here and saying that things are changing isn’t that I”M changing. It means that I’m going to be more raw with you. I’m going to choose to curse instead of filtering because I normally swear. It means I’m going to talk about the things that make me laugh and if I want to come on here and say that my life fucking sucks, then I’m going to.

I lost sight in why I created a blog in the first place. I started blogging to be able to talk about how I felt and what makes me tick. I don’t want to filter about how I’m feeling anymore. If that makes me the most negative blogger you have come across, which in that case, you don’t read many “real” blogs – then so be it. I don’t want to shrink myself anymore; not for anybody out there.

I feel sad that I have wasted so much of my life trying to prove that I was good enough when all I wanted was for someone to tell me that I don’t need to change to be that. Instead I got shit on because of who I was dating, how they lied about how I was, and a bunch of anonymous messages claiming they were just pretending to be my friend because they felt sorry for me.

I feel sad whenever I see that my blog isn’t growing and not because I feel entitled to it, but because I wonder what I’m doing wrong. I wonder why I grew so much at first and not at all now. It takes so much energy because I’m taking advice on how to grow and it’s going SO slowly – and when I get anxious about this, my first instinct is to isolate, to delete my accounts, and that makes me angry.

For the most part, I feel okay.

I feel like I’m at the beginning to a drastic change in my life. I hope deep in my soul that once Nathan is released, we can put this pain behind us once in for all: our exes, trauma from sexual abuse on both of our sides, and the pain and anger we brought into our marriage because our families were selfish. It’s not impossible but we are going to be needing to focus on each other more. We are going to have to go to a marriage workshop or counseling. We are going to need to focus on dating and maybe even start over on ground zero and forget about the fucking drama he has exposed me to since meeting him. I’m not fucking around anymore.

I feel good because I’m adjusting better than I thought. I tackle paying the bills and doing things I never thought I could like carry the kids through the grocery store, driving everywhere, and parking. I feel great for getting all of this stuff done but having no energy left for myself – hence, the challenge. I’m proud of myself for the progress that I have made.

And you know what?

It’s okay.

It’s okay if it takes me years to get to the goal of having 1,000 subscribers and I’m okay with never getting there. I know that if I try my hardest and stay true to myself, I won’t fall out of love with blogging again. I refuse to filter myself to prevent hurt feelings on people who CHOOSE to check out my blog. I refuse to allow people to shame me for “being negative” when I clearly state that this blog is for me to express myself, not impress you. Life isn’t always peachy and a lot of shitty things happen to me.

Of course I’ve done some lying because I was embarrassed about the truth. Now there is absolutely nothing that I’m hiding. Do you want more? Back when my husband and I were engaged, I got furious about his sexual past because he lied about it. He told me that if I ever have an opportunity to do something, to go ahead because of freebies. I hung out with my best friend and he kissed me and I allowed it because of a freebie. I got yelled at for it and so I left. One thing led to another with my friend and we had sex on a few occasions. It felt nice to not be triggered having sex with someone because, I cared about numbers back then and both guys I slept with, I knew who and how many times, and all of those details and that shit killed me. But not with him because I never asked.

You want more? Okay.

I have considerably emotionally cheated on Nathan on numerous occasions. Sure, I flirt, like crazy but there is something strong I feel for this other guy that I always questioned if I married the wrong one. I love him. I love Nathan and both of them feel like real love and both add something different to my life. Both are passionate, fun, and securing. But both are also hard and tiring. I would do anything to be there for both of them. I care drastically for each. And I never want to have a life without them in it and, right now, I don’t have either of them, and, it hurts really bad. And, I feel sad about it. I feel sad that love has all of these rules, ideas, and I just feel like shit at every waking second.

So, I’m an open book. I understand that you want a positive blogger but I can’t be positive all of the time, I tried that and I didn’t feel like myself. I don’t want society to tell me how to be a writer, how to parent, how to love, and how to be a person. As babies, we are given this graph of how we should be and what we should be doing, but I’m not a duplicate – I’m a prototype for myself – and I feel the same way for my babies.

I just want to be happy and honestly, if you think lowly of me, then stay off my blog. You don’t have to check it out, you don’t have to read, you don’t have to leave comments – I just hope that if you enjoy my blog that you will tell me, that you will come back, that you will support me because we all have this sick need to be seen as good, but none of us are pure, we just aren’t. We all know it, too, because life happens and you’re traumatized, you’re bothered, you’re angry because we all have expectations because of the normal that are shoved down our throats since birth. And, I’m so tired of it.

So, I feel a lot.

I feel happy that we are at my parents house because someone can have actual conversations with me. They can sympathize because they see how hard the kiddos are. We talk, we laugh, and I have a second to myself. It feels good to actually vocalize how I’m feeling. I feel happy because with the stress of the kiddos NEEDING to be at this certain spot, I allow them to grow at their own pace, and enjoy their childhood.

I feel sad because my husband isn’t home to enjoy this with me. I feel sad that we have gone from talking to each other all day, every day, and now we have no more than an hour to talk, if we are lucky. I feel sad that I failed him. That his company failed him. That the police failed him. And that he failed himself.

I feel angry that people can get away with committing crimes because of depression and whatever else. I feel angry that people confuse rape with sex. I feel angry that my suicide attempt was used as leverage against my husband to take advantage of him. I’m angry that she’s getting away with what she did because the state protects her. And I’m angry that she knew what she was doing.

I feel broken that I will always remember that my husband was sexually assaulted and I didn’t make his life easier. I feel broken to have watched my husband hurt himself and had to rush him to the hospital, when he almost didn’t come home with me because Crisis intervened. I still see a belt around his neck. I still hear him trying to say goodbye to me and I told him to get home instead. I still feel him shaking me awake after having a nightmare.

I feel lonely because all I have ever wanted to do was write and the world tries to invalidate that. I feel like the arts are shot down but people want tattoos, want beautiful paintings, want furniture, browse websites, read books, etc. – guess who made those? Artists of some sort! So, art DOES matter and they ARE “real jobs” and I have always been more creative than anything else. I feel lonely that my numbers aren’t growing as fast as I anticipated and I feel lonely because my friends don’t always reply. It’s not entitlement, I’m not angry, it just takes a lot of energy for me and I get anxious about why they don’t care anymore. I don’t choose to have social anxiety, it just happened, and I’m trying to beat it this year.

I feel overwhelmed because of everything demanding my attention, not having my other half with me, and trying to improve all areas of my life. I work on adding one more thing every single week. This week, I have added being social for my blog. I have been working on commenting on other blogs again and being brave to expose myself to the mental health community again, which can be pretty triggering.

But above everything else, I feel tired.

I feel tired of having to decide if what I’m feeling or thinking is what I believe in or something that was projected onto me. I feel tired of wondering what is wrong with me. I feel tired of not knowing where I stand – and quite frankly, I’m tired of secretly caring.

I’m tired of it hurting me when someone says something mean to or about me. I’m tired of people turning themselves into a victim when I say that they hurt me. I’m tired of filtering myself and being miserable because of it – I created a blog to truly express myself and I keep getting shoved right back in my shell. I’m tired of allowing people to tell me who I am, I want to take back control. I want to be me before I was abused and traumatized from it. I want to be happy. I want to be the person I was before and I refuse to listen to others anymore.

I’m tired of being proud of myself only to second guess my worth because of negative or no interaction. I’m just done. I feel truly done with allowing the opinions of others infiltrate self-worth, relationships, parenting, blogging, and so much more.

You do what you want and from here on out, I’m going to do it for me, even if I’m alone. And there are going to be setbacks, the anxiety inside of me will scream that I’m not good enough. But, I AM good enough. I don’t like being negative but I also don’t like fucking hurting either. I don’t want to change because some stranger on the Internet thinks I should, I’m changing because I WANT to. I’m DONE living like this and I’m going to save myself .

Man, it feels REALLY good to get that out. I’m not going to update my blog every single day about what I did and I won’t be doing all of them or in order, but I’m going to show love to myself, every single day, for the rest of my life and I will talk about my experience at the end of it all.

Thanks for reading.

Blame & Shame

Congratulations! You just had a brand new baby that you have waited so long for; or maybe you just recently had a positive pregnancy test. You’re going to be a mother (at least I’m assuming you are) to a cute baby, figure it out on your own and make decisions that you’re going to be attacked for.

I’ve been there, twice. If you’re new to my blog then you probably don’t know that I have two children, two beautiful little girls and each I have faced criticism one way or the other; especially with my first.

Aubri is my oldest (she’s four) and even mentioning I was pregnant (in my 20’s, mind you) had a bunch of people approach me with happiness but there were some with torches and pitchforks with their different opinions.

Even if you have thousands of children, you don’t know everything. Every single parent feels differently, their bodies are different, their lifestyles are different – their children are different, even with sibling sets.

I found out pretty quickly about mommy wars when I was pregnant.

“How did you get pregnant? Were you trying to conceive? Was it with the right person? You’re too young. You haven’t been together that long.”

Then it continues as your pregnancy progresses –

“Who is your OBGYN? Are you taking prentals? You should be working, pregnancy isn’t a disability. What are you naming your baby? That’s too common. That name sounds ridiculous. ___ named their baby that, too.

First of all – pregnancy hurts! My second pregnancy (Everly who is going to be three months at the end of the month) left me with massive hip pain where I couldn’t move or lay down. It sucked.

There is even bullshit bullying about how you deliver your baby.

What do you mean you want to be induced? It’s not okay to be medicated during it. I hope that you don’t have to have a cesarean.

And it doesn’t stop there, oh no.

Be prepared to stand up for your thoughts and feelings on how you parent. Personally, unless you’re trying to hurt your children – I don’t give a single fuck how you raise them. If you’re doing what you feel is right, care about their well-being, and love them – then you’re doing a really good job as a parent.

There is a lot of mom shaming and guilt that comes from our choices. Of course fathers are included, too. I had to watch strangers at the grocery store stare at my left hand for a wedding band. My husband gets glared at whenever he has the girls, even for a second.

No matter what we do, it is always going to be the “wrong choice” for others.

I have a more natural approach to raising my kids. I feel intuitive on a spiritual level with them. I love my girls and would do anything to keep them safe and healthy – in my own way. I try hard and do my absolute best for them.

I get shamed for my parenting choices. I have a full blown anxiety attack when the baby is crying in public and I have to either bounce her or *gasp* breastfeed her in public.

The amount of ignorant people who tell me that I’m a shit person for being a stay-at-home-mother, even though that’s my fucking right, is disgusting. The amount of people who have told me to give my kids formula fills me with such a blinded rage.

It’s not okay.

Do you want to know a secret?

I’m worried every single day that I’m not doing good enough.

Perhaps even harder than that mom-shame is the guilt behind it. Maybe that’s what causes “mommy wars” and the shame game, we feel guilty and worried.

Perhaps they’re right and my children will be the next Grinch living in the mountains because I home-schooled them where they didn’t get socialization with other kids.

Perhaps my child will want to live with me forever and sleep in my bed well into their teenage days because I held them when they cried as a baby.

You get the drift.

I’m more confident as a mother of two than I was as a FTM (first time mom) I can leave the house every once in a while without crying. I’m daring people with my eyes to confront me from nursing my baby in public. I’m standing up for my decisions with the pediatrician or someone else.

Why?

Because these are my children and it’s my right to do what works best for us.

The point is that I’m home with them every day, all day, and I still feel like I should have invested more time with them. I should have sucked up a little more energy and cleaned the apartment. I should have played toys with Aubri, even though I hate it. I should have did some research on ways to make money from home so that I can help financially. I shouldn’t have lost my shit when I caught Aubri with a Sharpie despite putting them where she can’t find them or another roll of Washi tape wasted on one piece of paper or wrapped around her toy.

There are days where I go to bed crying. There are times where I worry about how having a sister is going to impact Aubri (or Everly) I feel guilty when I compare the two (because believe me, they are different) of them. I worry that I’m making the wrong choice.

Weaning is hard. Getting my child who had spent the past months co-sleeping into their own bed was a challenge but I did it once and I will get to that day again when Everly gets a little older.

At the end of the day, these are my kids. This is my life. And every single choice is made as a team and I have the right to raise my kids. To actually raise them and I’m personally sick of being judged for it by in-laws, family, friends, professionals, and strangers.

My kids are healthy and happy and that’s because of US and what WE do for them.

It’s not easy. Nothing about being a parent is easy.

But it’s the best job I will ever have.

So, let’s stop being rude to each other. As long as your child doesn’t bully mine, we won’t have a problem. You do what you feel is right and I’m going to do the same.

At the end of the day we all want what is best for our babies.

Thanks for reading and have a great day.

Featured Photo by Kevin Jesus Horacio on Unsplash

From One To Two Children

Hello and welcome to my blog!

Today I wanted to talk about my experience of the transition of being a mother to one to a mother of two children. As well as the fear, the obstacles, and the best parts about it. So, let’s get started.

I became a mother when I was 21 years old (22 when I had her) and it was really traumatic for me. I had a horrible birth experience and a rough recovery where I developed a cyst, had to have my gallbladder removed, and had a bad reaction to the Mirena IUD birth control. I lost a lot of the initial days of my first daughter, Aubri’s, life. I have been mourning for the lost time with her and it’s been really hard. I’m going to have to talk about it in therapy when I have the time to get an appointment.

I always envisioned being a “pinterest Mom” where I would be the one who would stay home with her, do fun activities with them, and never ever lose my temper.

I wasn’t that kind of mother.

I already mentioned that I struggled with recovery in the initial months of being a new parent. I was fortunate enough to have my parents’ help because we were living with them at the time. I got to see my parents be amazing with my daughter and it really mended our relationship as well. But everything changed when we got our own apartment.

The anxiety was really hard because I was so scared of getting evicted that something angry woke inside of me. I found myself being that mother who was screaming at my child and became highly depressed.

It got a little bit better when we moved into our new apartment because there are no neighbors above or below us (we were on the top floor of our last apartment) and it’s made a difference.

Because my birth and recovery experience was so bad, I swore that I didn’t want to have more children. I didn’t want to face the trauma that I endured as a new parent; which really should be normalized. I couldn’t imagine our family of three being “wrecked” with another pregnancy.

I was scared.

But something inside of me switched when Aubri turned two years old. I was hit with the dreaded baby fever again. Which all of this opened up even more trauma where my husband and I didn’t have a healthy conversation about, but that’s a story for another time. With all of the months where I thought I could be pregnant only to get my period, I actually believed that I couldn’t have more children.

I finally gave up and then guess what? I got pregnant with our second daughter, Everly, and I was going through a lot of drama. I was super depressed.

I had a worse pregnancy where I was begging to be induced once I was considered “term” but, they wouldn’t and I ended up going into labor after having my cervix swept and delivered the day after my due date.

I was so scared that I wouldn’t be able to connect to Everly that I “checked out” of my pregnancy. I was so scared that I would lose her.

And honestly? I felt guilty for Aubri. I was finally being a better mother to her and I felt like I was robbing the time that she waited so long for. I was depressed and spent days crying. I didn’t hate either of my children but I cried for both of them.

But one look at Everly and all of those worries went away. I felt that deep love that I hadn’t felt since I looked into Aubri’s eyes when she was first born.

And just like that, I was a mother to two beautiful little girls.

THE MEGA FEARS

So, there is a constant fear that I won’t be able to love them in the same way. I personally grew up knowing that I wasn’t the favorite child and it really impacted me. I was downright scared that one of my kids wouldn’t get treated well and not even realize it. But, I love my girls and have tried to make Aubri feel important.

The other fear is that balancing the two is hard. All I picture is that scene in that Rugrats movie where Tommy became a big brother when Dil was born and was put on the back-burner because Dil was having an inconsolable crying session and his parents had to switch their attention to him instead of finishing the story. Ah, it breaks my heart every single time.

It was a huge fear of mine!

The last mega fear that I have is Aubri hurting her little sister. Aubri has been really helpful and claims she loves her little sister. But, I always have that fear that she will become so jealous that she could hurt her sister OR that she accidentally hurts her sister while she’s playing. I’m beyond protective of Everly so I’m so scared. I’m honestly scared for both of them. It’s really hard being a mother to daughters. I’m already worried for their safety and already dreading the disadvantage they have by being girls.

THE GOOD

It’s so fun to have two children because of how they interact with each other. Aubri will tickle her little tummy, or her toes, and Everly will have the biggest smile on her face. I have taken a few cute pictures of them but there are so many ideas that I want to take with them together. It’s fun to go out in public and Aubri will talk about her little sister with so much praise in her voice. I’m sure there will be hiccups along the way because they’re siblings.

Another good thing is that I’ve already been through this parenting thing that it feels more like a breeze *knock on wood* because we’ve already done these things. The only difference is that now we’re living on our own. It’s nice to be prepared for the screaming fits, the nursing sessions, and learning what cues to look for when she’s crying.

Everly has an amazing space in our lives that I couldn’t imagine our lives without her. It’s been way better than I was anticipating.

THE BAD

Going from one child to two is a little harder because I have another child to take care of. I feel like shit because Aubri will want lunch and I’ll have to decide who’s hungrier or, I have to nurse Everly while making something for Aubri.

It’s hard when I get so upset that I managed to get Everly asleep, stick her in her swing, and at that moment, Aubri HAS to play right in front of her. It’s really challenging to balance the two and out of my three mega fears, the balance thing is the biggest “real” challenge that I have to endure. It’s really hard for me to be alone with the girls, especially out in public, because I have to balance their needs, plus my own, alone. I have no idea how single mothers (especially to multiple kiddos) do it because I’m struggling.

I hate the stares that I get when I’m juggling the kids, getting them in and out of the car, and loading/unloading the bags. They look at me like I’m a hot mess, like I’m an unfit mother, and I just want to ask them what their problem is.

“Why, don’t you have your hands full!” some kind people like to say and you know what, I have to laugh because it’s true. But, I wouldn’t want it any other way. My beautiful babies mean the world.

THE COLD HARD TRUTH

Being a mother to two children is harder in regards to being able to not only balance them but myself as well. There are periods where I realize I haven’t taken a shower, or eaten, and that’s my fault. Some people are better at balancing but I guess I’m not when I want to put my children, especially the baby, above me. So, unfortunately, my writing goes on the back-burner and that can leave me feeling really depressed.

I know by now to appreciate these days because they grow so fast. It’s not rainbows and butterflies to be a parent and definitely not when you have more than one. It’s hard no matter what you do and you never feel like you’re doing it right.

It’s both easier and harder than I thought and I don’t know how that is. There are some days that fly by and all I do is laugh and smile at them and there are others where I become overwhelmed and feel down about it. Motherhood isn’t easy but I’m so thankful for my children.

My experience is only just beginning – Everly is two months old and Aubri is four. It’s interesting to see their similarities and differences. It’s sad to see Aubri become jealous of her sister (especially when it comes to her grandparents) but she is doing okay. I know there are going to be days that are easier and also know that there will be days that are even harder. I’m sure they will squabble and I will have to deal with that. I’m sure it will be a lot of adjusting and definitely be moments of joy but also frustration

At the end of the day, this is much better than what I was anticipating. I love both of my babies and they each came when they were meant to. I’m not perfect but I’m doing what I can for them.

A transition or big change in your life is scary and can be hard at first, or in intervals, and going from one child to two is no exception.

But I love it.

So, if you’re expecting your second (or whatever number) child, I know it’s scary and you don’t know what to expect. But, you’ve got this!

Thank you for reading and have a good day.

(TW) When Darkness Wins

Trigger Warning: Suicide Attempt, Overdose

Well, here we are.

A whole year has passed since I was standing in the bathroom in my old apartment, tears flooding my eyes, and an index card getting a tally mark after every pill that went to my stomach. But let’s go back.

2018 had a whole bunch of pain that I endured. No matter what I did, or how much I advocated for mental health, I found myself back in the dark. No self-care could keep me from losing myself and I would be cornered every other month. As a planner, I knew that I was in trouble when I started to know my “escape from life” plan.

So, there I was.

I was alone and I was depressed.

It started as a headache from all of the overwhelming thoughts. I knew my husband would find a new girl within the month. All he ever cared about was his job and had no time left to care about my mental health or our marriage. I figured that my daughter would be better off with someone who was “normal” and not yelling at her every single day. I had no friends. I felt disconnected from everyone. I figured the world would be better without me in it.

I knew all of the warning signs.

I knew all of the “helpful resources” that I threw into my blog posts.

But it wasn’t enough when I was thrown overboard; drowning in the sea of sadness. I felt alone. I felt like I should have never been born. I felt like I should have jumped off the ledges all of those many years ago – back when I only contemplated suicide.

It started as a headache from a lot of crying. My husband had given up on me. My best friend said that he only wanted to hook up and it would have to be in my bed. My first love, who had saved me the first time, asked me for nudes and blocked me when I said I don’t do that anymore. I felt disgusting and that no matter what I did, I would always end up like this.

I was blinded with pain and filled with anger. I didn’t matter to anybody and certainly didn’t look at myself with love. I hated it.

It was like my body was on autopilot; the pills started as the recommended dose and, the next thing I knew, I had tally marks in the double digits. The room started spinning, my heart accelerated, I felt myself becoming weaker.

Then, everything switched inside of me. Fear. Pain. Regret.

I was suddenly thinking about my daughter as a teenager, facing everything alone and wondering why she wasn’t good enough for me to be alive for. I thought about what this would do to her in the long run; would she have the same fate as me? As the same fate as her great grandmother? I never thought about suicide as being selfish but I suddenly felt embarrassed. What had I done?

I messaged my husband – if that was what he still was and told him what I had done. I was worried about being alone. I thought about my daughter in the other room. I was scared of what would happen.

He made it obvious that I was an inconvenience. He wanted to call the police or my parents; make me someone else’s problem. But, instead he left work a little earlier and he sat in silence on our couch… he couldn’t even look at me. It was that moment that I felt truly ashamed for everything I had done. He thought I did it BECAUSE he tried to leave. I don’t know why I did it, or if there was some truth to his accusation, but I felt ashamed all the same.

He moved us out of that apartment and into our new place – it was our fresh start. I could finally have some natural sunlight, could bring our child outside, I felt happy that I didn’t die when I overdosed. It still doesn’t feel like a suicide attempt… but it certainly wasn’t prevented either.

I chose to survive.

I chose to call my husband home. I chose not to follow through on the plan to “finish the job” when my husband went to bed. I chose to choose life.

And I chose to deal with the aftermath.

Recovery was difficult. My body felt rundown as all I could do was lay on the couch. I was finally going to be happy (jokes on me for what happened after, but that’s a story for another time) again. My skin felt a little too yellow-tinged but I was alive and was thankful for that.

I still struggle and travel back in time when I see the bottle of pills in our bathroom cabinet. I get triggered and sick to my stomach when I’m told to take that medication for a headache. I suffer through the pain in my temple so I don’t lose control again. I still struggle with the aftermath from what happened the month after (again, story for another time) because I tell myself it would have only been another handful and I wouldn’t have to feel “true pain”.

If I was brave then I would open up about how low I had to feel to end up there. If I was brave then I would be able to tell my parents about it. But, I’m not brave.

It helps knowing that I would have missed out on so many amazing things if I had died. I will do whatever it takes to never end up there again. I’m in counseling now and it helps. I have better communication about my mental health with my husband and our daughters.

So, for me, it didn’t “get better” – life sucked even more.

But,

I’M the one who got better with managing my thoughts and remembering what I felt during. It’s hard to admit that.

The anniversary of my “suicide attempt” was yesterday and my husband didn’t go into work until later, which he brought me to for a few hours, that he held me in the store when I started crying for being an inconvenience again.

So,

I made it a whole year. I’m still here and I’m happy about it. Was it weak of me to overdose? Maybe, but it took me being strong to say, “No, I’m worthy of being alive.” and to stand up to my inner voices when they get a little louder (and meaner) again.

If you’re going through something similar then I’m so sorry. Hang in there and I truly hope you make it through.

Thank you for reading and have a great day.

Featured Photo by Dan Meyers on Unsplash

(TW) I Tried To Die + 10 Reasons I’m Glad I Failed

Trigger Warning: Suicide, Self-Harm, Sexual Assault

Here we are again, today is World Suicide Prevention Day and last year I wrote a post about my experience with triggers and suicidal thoughts. At the time where I wrote it, it was the hardest ever written. I had to leave and come back to it many times from crying. Around then, I had already established a history of self-harm, but at the time I had only contemplated suicide.

September is a hard month for me. Not only does it mark the anniversary of my grandmother’s death, which was where my guilt was born, but the 12th became a new anniversary: the day I overdosed on pain medication, the day that I wanted to die.

It feels so surreal to say those words out loud, or to even write them, that I wanted to die. It’s almost been a year since I took those pills, tallying each one on a piece of paper. It’s almost been a year since my husband sat on the couch next to me in silence, shocked that the woman he loved wanted to die. It’s almost been a year since I had to face the reality of my mental health head-on.

And I still feel embarrassed.

I’d be lying if I said that all of these blessings felt like blessings at the time. There are so many bloggers (and others) who are coming forward today to share their actual stories, there are some sharing helpful resources (like making a suicide safety plan) for others, and there are some who are participating in Twitter Talk (I don’t think that’s what they’re called, but oh well, about how they practice self-care, signs that they’re not feeling well, and so forth.

This isn’t a post like that.

There are so many other blogs and discussions on social media going on for those of you who need that. This is going to be my way to “celebrate” World Suicide Prevention Day – the year after I overdosed. I’m going to share the reasons why I’m happy that I’m still alive today; things that happened this past year that I would have missed out on if I died.

So, here is my list of ten reasons why I’m happy that I’m alive.

A THOUGHTFUL BIRTHDAY SURPRISE

Four months before my birthday, my husband told me that he was going to be appearing secretive with his phone but to not worry. Turns out, he was talking to my mother about making my birthday special. He knew that I wanted a better camera, so he did whatever it took to get me one. He organized a miniature birthday celebration and he made is special.

It made me happy to see the efforts he made for me. I highly appreciate him.

NEW SIMS 4 CONTENT

I don’t care how silly this sounds but I absolutely love The Sims 4! It makes me happy to lose myself for the time that I get to play it. Stay tuned for my new series taking on a popular Sims challenge here on my blog! Anyway, this year, the Sims team has released so many amazing things… especially Island Living and Realm of Magic; which is downloading now!

The excitement that filled me when I heard about these updates from E3, made me so happy to be alive.

LEARNING MORE ABOUT MY FAMILY

This was a little hard for me at first and filled me with a lot of negative emotions; but my father sat us down because he wanted to share something that he had inside of him for a long time. It was talking about why he was the way that he was; I got to learn about how mental health has impacted him through the effects of suicide by our loved ones (he lost his mother and best friend to suicide) and learn about how much he wants to write a book.

It made me feel closer to him. I have already built a strong relationship with my mother but always struggled connecting to my father.

I figured out the reason why we had the relationship that we had; even though the letter wasn’t written for me, I learned a lot more about him through the words he had.

It really made everything a little clearer for me.

COUNSELING

Because I got pregnant with our second child, I was able to have health insurance again which made it possible to get the help that I needed by seeing a counselor.

I don’t always like it.

Sometimes I leave the session feeling more agitated or stressed. Still, it has helped me talk to someone about my thoughts, get reassurance that I’m not a terrible mother, and get some extra resources.

I’m horrible at actually making an appointment but she’s so kind and understanding. I really do appreciate this opportunity and has made a lot of difference.

HIDDEN COVE

We have lived in this area for about two years now and just learned about this beautiful swimming area over the summer. It’s not exactly a “beach” but the water itself is nice; with no sharp rocks threatening my bare feet. We were actually angry that this space was under our noses and a huge shout out to the person who told Nathan about it. We look forward to going again next year.

NEW MUSIC

This year has been fantastic with new music coming out; my favorite being NF’s newest album: The Search. NF is really good with demonstrating mental health; I highly recommend checking out his music. There were so many on this album that made me feel less alone. Change is one of my favorite songs on the album.

A couple other albums that I have enjoyed are Taylor Swift’s: Lover (You Need To Calm Down is great) and Witt Lowry’s Nevers Road (Ghost is my favorite) which I have only touched the surface of.

There are so many new songs that I have enjoyed this year and I’m happy that I get to.

GROWING AS A WRITER

Writing has always been there and this year, I have really dived into what I want to do with my life. I have an idea that came back to me for a novel. I want to write a memoir about what I have gone through. I want to get back into poetry. And, my blogging has gotten better, too.

I have read so many books that have helped shape me as a person and writer. I just want to actually have that drive to do it!

AUBRI LESSONS

I’m going to be homeschooling both of our children. This past year, Aubri has learned so many things. The favorites of mine have been she knows the days of the week, the seasons, a bit about weather, and has been doing so good with her preschool book that we got her. It definitely boosts my confidence, being her teacher, because she has been doing so well.

I’m so proud of her.

NATE SUPPORT

So, this was one that I struggled with (and still do) and filled me with so much anger. A month after my overdose, my husband was sexually assaulted and raped by his client.

I just wanted to cry for having to go through this, so soon after my overdose. I went through a lot physically, emotionally, and mentally from this – so, it’s no surprise that he needed my support too.

We are doing a little better now, and as much as I had the pain and disgust I feel about the situation, I’m glad that I’m here so that HE can be here.

I’m not going to dive into the details of what he went through but he has been struggling with the aftermath. I know that he needs me through this but it’s not easy. He didn’t deserve to go through this and I hope he gets the help and justice for what happened to him. We’re just ready and hoping for this to be over and behind us. I love him so much and this has definitely forced us to work on our marriage.

We’ve got this because we are finally working on being a team again.

EVERLY

I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to connect to my baby; my whole life was falling apart around me. I was scared I would lose her, too.

My pregnancy was hard and if you have been reading for awhile, you would probably know that. But, I would go through it all over again for her.

The second she was placed on me, everything made sense, she was meant to happen.

I love her so much and she has really changed everything for me. She is definitely my top reason why I’m happy that I’m alive today. If I died, I wouldn’t have gotten the second child that I wanted and never got to feel my heart grow larger. I’m so happy with our family of four. Sure, it’s a little stressful but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

So, for me, it did get better. There is always something that will bring a little light back into it. I’d be lying if I said that I never have suicidal thoughts, or haven’t relapsed from self-harm, or that I feel super happy all the time – but I did find joy again. And, I’m SO thankful for that.

Thank you for reading and have a great day.

Featured Photo by Jen Theodore on Unsplash

(TW) Trauma From Trust

Bravery is not my strong suit. I don’t go on thrill rides at the amusement park, watch horror movies, or do anything that makes me feel remotely uncomfortable. Having an anxiety disorder makes everything even more complicated. I have gotten a little better throughout the years because my blog has helped me become more vulnerable. I have even used the past year or two facing my fears; which I have a series on my blog:

I read a book during the summer called “Writing Is My Drink” by Theo Pauline Nestor – it was loaded with stories on how she found her voice in the realm of writing; that so many of us do at some point. There was a section where she discusses her instructor during class who taught them that writing was about getting to the nitty-gritty; the real reason why you’re writing in the first place.

“The problem isn’t that your mother keeps throwing bricks at you – the problem is that you still love her” – a massive paraphrase but I digress.

Nestor encourages you to write about that piece that absolutely terrifies you and I was so inspired that I took a notebook and wrote a miniature list on the things I was dying to talk about but too scared. That list died in my notebook before it ever saw the light. It was going to be a memoir but it feels more appropriate to share this on the blog.

So, here I am,

I’m staring at this document that will truly allow you, whether you know me in real life or not, to see the darkest corners of my soul that I have buried deep within me and hid from the world.

Are you ready? I’m not sure that I am.

The original plan was to create one big blog post about everything but after asking my husband’s advice – I’m going to break this down into a series.

So, here is the first story I have been so scared to share.

If I was brave then I would talk about the birth of my anxiety. I can’t remember if I was a nervous child before this happened to me but it has been something that resided in the darkest corners of my memory; that shadow that I had forgotten until I returned to counseling and had to pause treatment because it was too overwhelming to awaken while pregnant with my second child.

TRIGGER WARNING: CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE & EXPLOITATION

I was a victim to a pedophile who had filmed me getting changed and God only knows what else.

I was young and cannot recall the age that I was for the life of me. I was invited to a birthday party during the summer by a girl from school.

It was one of those birthday parties that made me jealous of what they had; despite my parents always going above and beyond for my birthday parties. She had one of those giant inflatable water slides in her backyard and I was so excited. It was a lot of fun but I didn’t know what nightmare was around the corner from me.

There were probably about ten or so of us who were there and I can still hear her father running up and down the stairs between our turns to go into his daughter’s bedroom to change. I don’t remember if it was here that it started or another time but when it was my turn, he walked me up into the bedroom and informed me that I would see myself on the television screen. He instructed me to lay down and put my hand down to touch myself. He laid on his daughter’s bed to demonstrate (but kept his clothes on) and said that it would be fun. He left the room for me to undress and, because I didn’t know what was happening, I did what he asked.

This became a summer of my friend calling to invite me over and hearing his excitement in the background. I would spend the day (sometimes night) with my “secondary family”. My parents were probably happy that I had a friend that I regularly saw and it helped me pass the time while they were at work. But, now I can see a bunch of things that were not okay with what I didn’t think twice about as a child.

I wasn’t Christina in his house – no, I was “Little Miss Pretty” and he had conditioned his young son to refer to me by that name and would even correct him when he called me by my name. It made me uncomfortable but I didn’t know the reason why.

Eventually, it stopped being his daughter that made the phone call and he became to be the voice on the other end of the line. And now I see how disgusting and inappropriate it was for a grown man to be calling a young girl over to hang out with him.

I can still see his face peering over the top bunk of the bed when he said goodnight. In fact, I had a panic attack in the shower last night because I had flashbacks of his face and the voices wouldn’t stop telling me horrible things like how he preyed on me, that I was weak, that I was ugly, that I was tainted, that I wouldn’t be able to protect my children, that I was better off dead.

But I can’t remember for the life of me what happened to me on that day.

He had called to invite me over but this time, my “friend” was nowhere to be seen. His wife and their other two children had gone out and I was suddenly feeling extremely ill – I was practically laying in his lap on the couch, begging to go home but he told me no, that he could take care of me. I faintly remember him running his finger along my arm.

It makes me sick to my stomach to think about the possibility that he had done something to make me sick and done something while I wasn’t aware of what was going on. I don’t think I can ever recover the truth and it shatters my soul beyond comprehension.

I don’t even remember when or how it ended.

All I remember is avoiding the phone calls and told my parents something that made my dad answer when he called again.

“Look, my daughter doesn’t want to go over there anymore so please stop calling here.”

And next thing I remember, I’m sitting in a room with a police officer, voice recorder on the table, and talking about my adult male “friend”. I even remember us driving a little bit away from the police station when I asked my parents to turn around because I forgot something important – and they did.

I sat in the chair again, officer restating my first and last name and “she had forgotten to add something” to which I talked about being naked on the television screen, revealing my body to hidden eyes – a wolf in sheep’s clothing?

For the sake of this post, I did some research and feel sick to my stomach. Not only did he work in a daycare that was ran by the church, for an entire year, but he faced charges associated with child exploitation, invasion of privacy, possession of child pornography, and sexual assault.

It bothers me to read it but I’m glad that he served some time, even though 21 years feels like nothing for what he did to me and other children. I’m unsure if my prepubescent body was identified in any of the 250 videos recovered from a search warrant, or if my statement brought justice to these other children, but I know in my heart that it helped save us.

This man was dangerous.

This man was trusted by parents, staff members, and children like me – he took that trust and inflicted pain and trauma.

This man is responsible for shaping me into this nervous wreck that I am today.

I didn’t feel comfortable spending the night with others after that. I still lock the car doors and feel uneasy when I see a man around me. I don’t like being alone or go to new places because it awakens this fear inside of me that something bad is going to happen and I won’t know how or be able to fight it.

It’s probably a huge reason why I cringe when people talk about age differences, why I detest bald men, and why I get upset when someone has the chance to make a report but chooses not to – because the first man to see me naked was a grown ass man who hid behind fun activities to hurt those who trusted him. Because if it wasn’t for me or another child (or their parents) then we would still be victimized by a pedophile. That someone faced judgement and had the bravery to stand up to protect children like me.

I have crippling anxiety of being away from my children and refuse to ever put them in daycare or hire a babysitter. I get angry when someone implies that money is more important than their safety or my concerns. I don’t care how “rare” it is – it happened to me and I will never gamble their lives, to risk them carrying this burden or dark secret inside of them forever, for a piece of paper.

So, there’s nothing much to say except a big “FUCK YOU!” to that guy.

May you rot where you belong for what you did to children; what you did to me.

I had a counseling session today and spent the majority of the time opening up about this topic. I could see the hair on her arms stand up, the air around us felt colder; like the ghosts from my past had been exorcised. I connected it to my present day trauma; I felt angry and hurt and ashamed that something like this had happened to me. I left our session feeling braver and more confident about doing this series and it is going to take every bone in my body to muster up the confidence and courage to click “publish…” because no matter how long I spend blogging and sharing my story, it never gets easier for me to open up.

I’m thankful to have had my parents who didn’t force me to go back there and obviously did something for me because I was in that police station – maybe someday I muster up the courage to talk to them about it.

I’m done letting these things stay hidden within me; I’m hoping they will help me heal by sharing them. It doesn’t matter if you believe me, or where your side is – this happened and it filled me with trauma.

Thank you for reading and have a great day.

Featured Photo by Soulful Stock on Unsplash

Faith Restored

Today is my due date and it’s crazy that I have never been pregnant this long. I gave birth to my first on her due date at around noon – so, this has been… different!

I had my last appointment at the OBGYN office today and I was really anxious to go. My last appointment was horrible and I felt so anxious and upset leaving that appointment. It honestly made me never want to return. In fact, I was constantly checking my email to make sure my appointment wasn’t switched to another provider last minute. Luckily, it wasn’t.

When I went back to my appointment, there was a new nurse that I have yet to see. She mentioned that I declined the membrane sweep at the last appointment, and my rage was triggered. I told her that I only refused it because she had scared me out of it. I told her that the whole appointment was traumatic and I fought back tears as I told her what had happened to which she told me I have to report it to their manager so that it doesn’t happen again and reminded me I have a right to stand up for myself and my husband has the right to advocate for me.

I told her that I didn’t want to get anybody in trouble and I said that I had left shaking and crying. She told me that the midwife was there today and would talk to me about everything. She said to strip down so that I could have my cervix checked and that the manager would be in to talk to me.

Hello anxiety!

The manager entered the room (with a sheet around me, by the way) and asked me to tell her about my experience. She said that she would be spoken to and, again, I have rights. She said I never have to feel pressured to allow medical students to work on me or that I have to endure the pain just because – she apologized and ended up leaving so that I could have my actual exam because the midwife entered the room.

She asked me what had happened and I told her everything to the point where the room was laughing. She apologized but couldn’t quite understand how someone could manage to hurt me so much (she pinched my vagina with the speculum) and we talked a little bit about everything. I told her that I was scared now of a membrane sweep because the doctor had implied that I would risk my baby’s life in getting one and the midwife actually talked to me about it and that there were no known risks associated and that she was SUPPOSED to approach it better, too.

She allowed Aubri to check Everly’s heartbeat (because she’s really hands-on with her) and said that she sounds really good. She said that we will do a NST (non-stress test) as well to give myself a peace of mind from worrying about her movements. Then it was time to check my cervix.

She said that I’m doing really well and to remember to let her know if she is too rough. Even though it’s uncomfortable, she is so gentle that I don’t feel pain. She said that she had reached my cervix, that I was definitely 2 CM and then she said now it’s time for the sweep. It wasn’t too bad!

She said that it went really well and was probably the best sweep she has ever done. She said that she would be SUPER surprised if I don’t go into labor within the next 48 hours and asked how I felt about an induction in case I didn’t go into labor by next week. I told her that I’m down for it. She told me she will go look at the schedule while I go to the other room for my NST.

The NST wasn’t bad – just some monitors and clicking whenever I feel the baby move – everything looks great!

She came back into the room after everything was over and said that she scheduled an induction for Monday morning (August 5th) and talked me through the process. She told me that the doctor that I had an issue with is gone all week and that Monday will have the midwife and my other favorite doctor on all day and night – she told me there is no way I will need to worry about delivering with the doctor I had a bad experience with.. I was immediately happy!

All day I have been losing my bloody show (rest of my mucous plug) and have been having really painful contractions coming more frequently – but not quite where I need them yet. It’s pretty scary that I will be meeting my little baby girl soon!

I left feeling so much better. I feel more confident in the hospital again… I’m ready for a better experience!

It was really hard for me to stand up for myself and my body like I did today but I’m proud of myself for being able to. I’m proud of the progress my body is making and know that I will be okay when I go into labor.

Now I want to desperately cut my nails (because they’re gross) as well as keep my “last minute” hospital bag ready and put EVERYTHING I need into the diaper bag.

It won’t be long now!

I’m so incredibly thankful for my experience that I had today… it was so much better! Even though the induction is a little further than I was expecting to be okay with… I’m satisfied!

Thank you for reading and have a great day.

Feature Photo by Taisiia Stupak on Unsplash

Birth Control Experience

With labor right around the corner, I have been asked by the staff what my plans for birth control are. I thought it would be fitting to come on my blog and share my experience with precautions against an unplanned pregnancy.

Before I get started, please note that this is just my personal experience and opinions. I’m in no way, shape, or form trying to get you to choose (or not choose) these methods. You are fully responsible and allowed to make your own decisions on your life and body and I expect the same respect in return.

Okay, so, let’s get started.

I don’t want to sound like a broken record but my labor, delivery, and recovery experience from having my first child was traumatic.

At the end of my pregnancy, the doctor asked what my plans for birth control were. I honestly didn’t know so she handed me a magazine that discussed the different options. However, I was breastfeeding so I only had three to choose from: Mirena (IUD), mini-pill, and the implant.

After doing some research, I decided that I would go with the IUD so that I didn’t have to worry about babies for years, didn’t have to worry about remembering to take anything, and didn’t need to have something in my arm.

I can’t recall if I had it inserted right at my six week postpartum appointment but when I went to get it inserted, it was really uncomfortable for me. It actually hurt, a lot! My doctor used a speculum (which if you read my blog, you know how much I hate that stupid thing) and inserted the IUD and it was all prepared.

The initial feelings were obviously uncomfortable. I had even more bleeding and cramps from the procedure but I was happy that I didn’t have to worry about anything for a long time.

But that wasn’t how it went for me.

After about four months of this device, I was absolutely miserable. I felt like I had no control over myself. I had constant bleeding, my mood swings were bad, and I was a complete disaster in general. I felt paranoid and it took me awhile to realize that it was possibly due to the Mirena and not just having a baby five months prior.

I joined a group on Facebook and it really helped me to feel less alone because a lot of people love the Mirena but this group had people who had bad experiences and a lot of them matched mine.

I was really angry because I had talked to the doctor about the risks and none of the things were discussed beyond the chance of having some bleeding and cramping in the beginning and the slight chance I could still become pregnant.

But the anger got worse.

I made an appointment with the OBGYN because I wasn’t comfortable keeping it inside of me – especially after reading how many of the women in the group struggled to get their health practitioners to remove it.

I went into the appointment and the nurse told me everything the other girls had warned about. Then, she had the nerve to tell me that I shouldn’t remove the Mirena and instead insisted I just had PPD (postpartum depression) and, well, I didn’t take that too well.

The doctor came in and I was near tears because I was terrified that I would be leaving with the contraption in my body that I could not remove on my own. She told me that she would take it out but she recommended that I kept trying with it.

I was adamant on having it removed. So, speculum was in and the Mirena was removed.

I’m not sure if it was a coincidence or not but I immediately felt better.

After a bit of time, I was completely myself again and I was actually happy and able to bond with my baby more – until I needed to have my gallbladder removed but that’s another experience to talk about at a later date.

This experience was absolutely dreadful for me and is another reason why I have lost trust in doctors. Just the fact they tried to refuse to remove something from my body was completely scary to me.

I will never go back to a method where something stays inside of me.

About a year later, I went with a different birth control method.. the mini-pill!

This was a whole different experience for me. I absolutely enjoyed it and was on it until we lost health insurance and I couldn’t pay for it.

I had an alarm on my phone that would go off every day at 4 PM and I would take my pill. I had only missed a handful of pills throughout my time on it and it was typically due to my phone dying on me or malfunctioning.

This is clearly a deal-breaker for other people, I get it, but this was definitely the better option for me than to have an object inside of me that I can’t remove.

I’m going to go back to the mini-pill after the birth of our second daughter because it seems to be the best fit for me.

So, again, I personally feel like birth control that is implanted into me is a deal-breaker for me just like remembering to take pills or swap products out is a deal-breaker for others.

Thank you for reading and have a great day.

Feature Photo by Reproductive Health Supplies Coalition on Unsplash

Today Was Not Okay

Hello and welcome to Navigation To Happiness!

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I reached 39 weeks pregnant today and I’m not doing so well right now. Let’s be honest, this pregnancy has been hard on me and I won’t go into details again because I’m really starting to feel like a broken record. I will say that my appointment today was… not good.

We were told that I was going to get my membranes swept today; which is supposed to help labor move along a little further. I was nervous but even more so that they switched my appointment to a different doctor… and she did not have good reviews. I had her already but man, I really hated today.

We arrived ten minutes early and were brought back to the room – one of the biggest rooms there. After using the restroom, I had the vaginal leaking again; that I had rushed to L&D numerous times just to feel embarrassed and agitated because I have a watery mucous plug. So, when the nurse asked me if I had any leaking, I told her yes but that it was no concern because I’ve done this a thousand times before.

It took the doctor forever to get back to me. I never really care about these kinds of things but I was feeling off about this appointment. There was something in the vibes around me that something was wrong. The nurse asked me if I was okay with a medical student. Which, I assumed meant that she would observe like she had for every other appointment or L&D visit that I had been to. So, I said that’s fine. I really wish I didn’t.

I sat naked from the waist down for a while. I could feel the air suffocating me and looking back, it was probably because there were no windows in that room. I felt really anxious and upset that nothing I said seemed to matter; how my baby’s movements have felt like they are decreasing, that my mental health is getting really bad, that I feel a lot of physical pain that I can’t function.

The medical student came in first and I knew who she was because I had already met her on a few occasions. She hung onto the fluid leaks and I told her that it was seriously nothing. After all; she had been in there when I was already there. I said my biggest concern was how Everly felt different, that my contractions were irregular so I figured that didn’t matter, I said I’m worried about being GBS positive and not having enough time to get the antibiotics while in labor, and how my mental health was REALLY bad.

Still,

The nurses came back into the room with a bunch of speculums and I reached over to Nathan while they were preparing. I was scared. I hated these but I knew that it would be okay. Nathan stroked my forehead; something we learned has been really helpful with my anxiety during these trips, and I practiced my breathing.

She was the one who checked the baby’s heartbeat but it felt off. It sounded really faint and still, they counted it as 140. I’m struggling with trusting that they knew what they were doing. I don’t like gambling; especially betting the lives of my children – again, I speak from experience.

That’s when I noticed that the medical student was wearing gloves and that she would be performing this.

Here’s the thing,

It is in my documents and records that I suffer crippling trauma from vaginal exams.

I clutched onto my husband’s arm as the medical student struggled inserting the speculum inside of me. It failed FOUR times before the doctor grabbed it from her and SHOVED it into place. All of this to tell me what I already knew… that my water didn’t break!

The doctor rushed to have me get dressed but I reminded her that I needed my cervix checked. I was angry at this point because that was unbelievably painful. She instructed me to lay back down and she shoved her whole hand up to feel my difficult cervix… it triggered my PTSD from the cervix checks before… the PTSD my other two doctors in that practice had been gentle about. I was near tears as Nathan held me tightly and saying that I’m doing well and I could see him holding his anger back from them. He doesn’t like to see me in pain because they don’t listen.

I was hoping this would make me feel better but she said I’m suddenly doing WORSE than before? I was completely soft, 70% effaced at the first, and 2 CM dilated. Now, I’m allegedly only 50% and barely 1 CM… then she had the medical student shove her hand in too.

I mentioned that the previous doctor said I could have my membranes swept at this appointment, even though I didn’t want her to be the one to do it. I felt like I was brutally treated today.

She said she could do it but scared me out of doing it because of being GBS positive. She said it could have a lot of risks for the baby and said it’s up to me. I held back tears as I said to “just forget it” then and got my clothes back on as Nathan held his tongue until we got out to the parking lot. I held my tears back as I started shaking from how traumatic it was.

I have been a mess since coming home. I curled up on the couch after my husband left for his shift as my cat (who never likes to show his affection) hopped up on me and curled up with me. I was almost asleep when he looked at me and jumped down; sort of like a parent sneaking out of the room of their sleeping children after they sat there to support their fears. I slept most of the afternoon away and kept waking up to painful cramping and contractions. I felt violated and overall weak from not standing up for my body and my child.

Today was not okay. It’s unacceptable to subject someone to that much discomfort and pain. It is dangerous to not take concerns seriously and hang onto something that the patient knows is nothing. It’s not okay to belittle a person.

I don’t even want to go to the hospital anymore because the closer I get, the more anxious I am about trusting another medical team to take care of me when 9/10 times, they add to my fear. I’m starting to think it’s better to stop wasting my time and energy on something that doesn’t want to spend more than five minutes caring about me.

My mental health is SO bad and I’m tired of it being brushed aside. I’m tired of idiot doctors who think every patient is the same. I’m tired of feeling neglected, violated, and mistreated by “professionals” who will still get paid and not get in trouble if anything happens to me or my baby.

I’m just so done.

I’m even more terrified to go into labor that I’m going to be a monster at my next appointment so that I can get induced with a doctor I trust and have some control over my experience. I’m terrified and don’t want to do this but… I have to. I’m so hurt and anxious… I’m ready for it to be over but terrified of the trauma it may add on to me.

I don’t know how much more I can carry on.

Thank you for reading and have a great day.

Christina Marie | Navigation To Happiness
navigation.to.happiness@gmail.com

Mental Health & Motherhood

Hello and welcome to Navigation To Happiness!

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Today I want to talk about something that I have been wanting to talk about for a while. It’s not an easy thing for me to talk about. It’s one of those things that make me wish I was normal. I’m talking about how having mental health issues have impacted being a mother.

TRIGGER WARNING: overdose, sexual assault.

I’m personally diagnosed with anxiety, depression, and PTSD. I knew that I had some of these mental illnesses before I even became a mother. I was suicidal as a teenager and don’t even get me started on how anxious I was. I couldn’t order food at a restaurant when I was sixteen, forget making phone calls, and I hated doing anything myself. It was a rude awakening when I left home for the first time.

It honestly feels so weird to talk about mental health again. I used to do frequent posts about it when I first started blogging but I just hate it so much. Once your own mental health becomes a weapon used and you’re frequently dealing with the aftermath of someone who hides behind a diagnosis to get away with harming your family, it just fucking sucks. I feel angry and embarrassed and honestly hoping karma pays that bitch a visit. And, if I have any say on it, it will be.

But this blog post isn’t about that.

My husband and I met in college and decided within the first year of our relationship that we wanted to have children together. Nobody really believes that our first daughter was “planned” but she was. People believed that I got pregnant and ruined our lives but in a lot of ways, being a mother changed everything for me.

Pregnancy with her was fine up until the last weeks of pregnancy where I felt so heavy. I remember asking about being induced but, understandably, I was told that they don’t do inductions until after due date.

My experience with labor was traumatic and I blocked it out for years. It wasn’t until my second pregnancy that I started to open up about it and guess what, it wasn’t even normal to go through what I did! In fact, the hospital shouldn’t have done half of what they did. Every time I have opened up about it, I have been greeted with sympathy and gentleness.

Not only did my labor go unplanned but I was on so much medication that I didn’t even fully realize what was happening. My parents and husband all said that they were nervous. My husband was angry at the staff because I was handled badly, my father said he wasn’t nervous until he saw the doctor stitching me up, and my mother said she has never watched birth before but that she was nervous. It really amplified my fear going into this one.

My recovery was traumatic, too. Not only did I develop gallstones that I was an attack away from dying (and is a huge reason why I don’t trust medical staff) but I developed a cyst the size of a golf ball from my vaginal stitches. I was in and out of the ER and my surgery was triggering, too. With all of the difficulties, I wasn’t mentally present in my daughter’s life. Once I was through it and feeling better, I had a reaction to the birth control, it never ended! Once it did, though, I looked at my baby and didn’t really know who she was. I realized I was mourning my time with the baby who grew inside of me for 40 weeks. I looked at her like she was a stranger and it was terrifying. I felt like I had missed out on the time that I deserved with her and I was angry about it for a long time.

Things started getting better when we were out on our own and got our first apartment together. We moved into a “family-friendly” apartment and our landlord was the first person who didn’t judge me for being a stay-at-home mother. I was excited to be out on our own, our little family, but I soon turned into the mother that I was terrified of being – the one who would constantly yell.

It’s a hard pill to swallow when you realize that you cared more about the comfort of your neighbor’s than the well-being of your child. I was so scared of being confronted or evicted that I would cry or yell when my daughter (who was a young toddler at the time) would walk or accidentally drop a toy. I locked myself in the other room to prevent myself from becoming this person I hated. I didn’t like yelling and hated myself more than anything. It triggered bad mental health times. I would reach out for support from my husband and get brushed off. I would relapse with self-harm, cry myself to sleep, and found myself finding comfort with a bottle of pills that almost killed me.

I wanted to be a good mother and I just wasn’t.

Things got a little bit better until my husband was repeatedly sexually assaulted at work by his client. Again, not the post to go into depth about what happened but I can talk about how it has impacted my mental health which impacted being a mother; it’s a domino effect, really.

Five days after finding this out, husband losing his job, worrying about the next step, feeling betrayed, I was staring down at a positive pregnancy test and I just felt lost. I told myself that I would become pregnant again when I was meant to and I just felt like a cruel joke was being played on me. I couldn’t feel happiness.

Personally, I always felt hated by my parents compared to my younger brother. I was an unplanned pregnancy and felt like I had to prove to my parents that having me was the best decision. I never wanted either of my children to feel like I did growing up. So, when I was searching for local abortion clinics with my heart in my lungs, I wanted to die. I bawled my eyes out and I’m fighting back tears as I write this. I never wanted to be doing that, especially while married to a man that I loved to a child that I desperately wanted because I was so damn scared that I would look at this child and remember what was going on while I conceived her.

Before I even knew that I was pregnant, I found myself crying on the floor of the store because I found a onesie that said “Never Give Up” – it felt like she was conceived to give me the strength to be there for my children. I blamed myself every day for what had happened. I said maybe if I wasn’t so focused on fighting to stay alive, I would have known sooner that there was something wrong. I blamed myself for being so weak because maybe if I was “normal” I would have been a better wife and better mother. I blamed myself and couldn’t do anything to myself because of the baby growing inside of me. Both of my girls helped me and I was embarrassed that I needed help to be alive from a three-year-old and a baby growing inside of me. Once again, I had felt like a burden.

I imagined my second pregnancy feeling more like a family occasion. I had to deal with massive judgement from my first pregnancy and knew that if I got pregnant then it would be different. Well, it was, but it had a whole new trauma to it. The pregnancy felt tainted.

At the end of every appointment, I had a reminder of what had happened. I opened up about things to the nurses and doctors and found myself crying. I went to counseling where I realized just how scary it is to get into the depths of what you have buried. I didn’t realize how much pain I was enduring from my childhood. I bawled my eyes out sitting in that chair because all I wanted was to be happy and enjoy the pregnancy that I desperately wanted and it happened at a time I wanted to disappear. Counseling really helped but because of the feelings it kicked up, I decided that it’s dangerous to my pregnancy to get what I need to from it – which is actually being honest. I trust that counselor but I have to do what is best for my kids.

It felt like I was going through the pregnancy with a dark cloud over me. I would feel hopeless and then there were times where I would actually feel happy and excited. I would be hopeful but then feel defeated when something wasn’t what I was hoping. I had felt like this pregnancy was even harder and that was what I was trying to prevent when I thought about trying for our second child. I was angry. I was depressed. I felt like I was going to completely lose myself this time. It was bad enough and caused enough guilt with my first so I’m worried what it will be like with two children.

Being a mother is hard enough. There are a bunch of people who jump on you from the second they discover you’re pregnant up to how you decide to parent that child. Throw the stigma surrounding mental health into it and you’re really scared. Mothers (and fathers) are terrified to get help because they don’t want CPS knocking on their door. I have never once wanted something to happen to my children. I have never wanted to hurt them and to hear my counselor tell me that I’m not a threat to my kids was helpful and knowing I could slowly open up to her was helpful. But not every parent who seeks help is with someone who understands these things. Not every parent who seeks guidance and help are greeted with resources but are treated as a threat while they watch parents who do hurt their children on a daily basis are seen as fit parents.

I don’t mention this stuff to complain or to cause an alarm. Really, I’m fine. When I say that I have been contemplating asking for an induction date the same week as being 40 weeks (not making it 1-2 weeks post-term) it’s not because I want to hurt myself or do damaging things but because my anxiety calms down when I can physically see my child but also because I don’t want to cause distress with my emotions.

So, how about dive a little deeper?

How my anxiety impacts being a mother:

Anxiety impacts my experience of being a mom because I get worried about having two girls in such a disgusting world. I worry about how I’m going to raise them because I’m not a girly person; I have no idea how to curl my hair or apply make-up and don’t even get me started on fashion. I feel like I have failed them already and it makes me so nervous.

It impacts being able to function because I’m terrified that we will be put in a dangerous situation. I worry about what I would do if someone broke into my apartment if someone tried to abduct them while we were out, if there was a fire, or if we were out in public and found ourselves in a hostile situation. I’m downright terrified of not being able to protect them; especially with two children.

My anxiety is triggered when I lose my cool with my kids and worry about the kind of mother that I appear to be. I hate being the crazy lady who yelled at her child. I get anxious when I have to discipline her. I hate being anxious because of someone not agreeing with how I choose to parent her.

As a pregnant mom, anxiety impacts motherhood because I’m constantly worried if she’s okay. With both of my pregnancies I have found myself panicking because I didn’t feel baby move for a bit – kick counts are a nightmare for me. I’m better this time around but I get anxious to the point where I’m poking and prodding until I feel some movement. It feels scary because there is so much that can happen and not knowing if your baby is still okay is the worst.

Anxiety makes me feel like something bad is going to happen at all times and desperately trying to be prepared. Anything that I’m out of control makes me anxious so everything about being a mother triggers some anxiety.

I’m constantly worried how my children are going to feel growing up with me as their mother. I worry that my conditions are hereditary (certainly are in my case) and have no idea how I can help them when I struggle with them myself.

How my depression impacts being a mother:

As a society we are programmed to think that once you have a child, it can never be about you again. As a mother, my depression has made me feel resentful. I had parents who were really protective over me and shortly after I had freedom, I fell in love and started a family. I completely lost my own identity once I had a child and then got married. It felt like I desperately clung to the pieces of me that I knew, that felt familiar, that felt like me. I was no longer Christina. I was Aubri’s mother or Nathan’s wife and it filled me with so much pain.

I already mentioned that I had a moment where I looked at my baby like she was a stranger. I felt like I had missed the first six months of her life even though I was with her every single day. I looked in the mirror and wondered who I was. I lost my identity and control of my body. I look back and I barely remember her beginning days and kick myself for not documenting it for YouTube like I wanted to.

I would think lowly of myself because I wasn’t the mother I wanted to be. I wanted to be the mother who brought my child to fun places, to play with them, to have a lot of time together and instead I’m the mother who feels isolated, the one who cannot handle playing with toys, the mother who loses her cool too much and spends that night crying.

For example:

Tonight I was doing the usual but now I have had some contractions that feel really painful but they were 10-20 minutes apart, the closest being 7 minutes. They hurt really bad but it makes me even angrier that they tapered off. It makes me feel like my intuition is a failure. I keep thinking that tonight, for sure, is going to be it and then it’s just not. It makes me angry and sad when I’m going through pain for no reason. I just want to scream “come out already so the pain is worth it! I want to see you!”

If that wasn’t enough, I went to the restroom and checked the time – I was a little late starting the bedtime routine with Aubri. She had been saying no to a shower and passing on teeth and hair for the past night. I had to pull her away from something she just “had to do” which, coincidentally is something she’s not allowed to do – play with the DVD’s.

I tried to calmly tell her that she has to put the movies away because it was time for bed. She’s an independent preschooler so she was quick to tell me that she was busy. I could feel the meltdown coming because this wasn’t my first rodeo (what a weird saying, right?) still, I tried to relax as I told her that she’s not allowed to play with the movies and that they were for watching. I asked her again to put them away so that she can get ready for bed. She said no.

I was exhausted. I already feel like I’m balancing the two girls and I was not having it tonight. I wanted to take care of her and not do the “easy way out”. I picked up the movies and put them away and, well, she wasn’t happy about it. Cue the tantrum.

I told her that it’s time for her shower and that we don’t play with movies. I asked her if she was going to come to the shower or if I would have to pick her up. She replied with screaming. I took a deep breath and picked her up, pulling her over to the shower.

With her screaming the entire time, I kept taking deep breaths and blocked her from getting hurt. Eventually, I picked her up and placed her in the shower and scrubbed her with bubbles. She shouted at me, saying I’m mean and that I ruined her life. I held back tears as I scrubbed as much as I could until I grew overstimulated and stressed that I closed the shower curtain and left the bathroom to breathe.

To be honest, I’m doing much better with how depression impacts me being a mom. However, there are times where I feel overstimulated and react with shouting. I have moments where I have to leave the room or lock myself away to cry for a moment.

She was a little upset when I returned a moment later to help her with some bubbles in her eyes. Once she was squeaky clean, she was a little calmer. I could feel the exhaustion cry that I have learned since she was a baby. I finished getting her ready for bed, tucked her in, and told her that I really love her and that it’s okay if she had a bad day. I gave her extra kisses and rubbed her back for a moment and told her that I hope she sleeps well. Then, she was basically out.

Depression has impacted my experience of being a mom because I feel like such a failure. I feel self-hatred when I lose myself, have to go in a different room, or have no energy to be the mother I wanted to be.

The only thing that has helped was learning when I need to walk away to give myself a break and practiced self-care. I have seen the difference but sometimes it’s hard! Being a mother is HARD!

Sometimes I feel like I’m doing great but there is that part of me that wonders if I’m really good enough to be their mother. I hate being that person who yells at her child or feels so lowly. I’m doing better and plan to do even more that helps.

It’s just all really hard when you feel so numb to everything. I want to focus on the well-being of my children and make sure they’re happy. If I’m being honest, sometimes that has been the only thing that has kept me safe and healthy.

How my PTSD impacts being a mother:

The only thing I’m really going to share about this part is that PTSD from my childbirth experience from Aubri to the worry of doing it again with our second daughter, Everly.

Since becoming pregnant I have been absolutely terrified of the whole labor process again. I was in active labor (being admitted to the hospital) for 13 hours with two hours of pushing. It was… a lot. I already talked about this earlier in the post but the aftermath has made this pregnancy even scarier.

I also have an anterior placenta, she was breeched or transverse for most of my pregnancy (but thankfully switched to head down), and I tested positive for GBS. I’m FREAKING out because I don’t know what to expect.

I’m terrified of surgeries and I still have a chance of needing a C-section and I’m scared. I don’t like the idea of being awake and unless I downright refuse the surgery then I will have to be awake… and it’s sending me through the roof. I’m really scared of not knowing what to expect, not getting to the hospital in time to get my antibiotics, something bad happening, or somehow having a scarier experience. Due to how hard this pregnancy has been… I don’t think I could ever have another baby. It would be too hard to have TWO traumatic experiences under my belt.

I’m ready to meet our baby and sending those vibes into the universe but the PTSD from my childbirth and this pregnancy is just too much. I’m PRAYING that it won’t be as bad this time around and is just the anxiety. It’s all really hard for me.

Honestly, I think that’s all I can muster up for today’s blog post. I’m tired. I’m in a lot of pain. So, I’m calling it the end. I’m sure it was all over the place but I’m exhausted.

Thanks for reading and have a great day.

Christina Marie | Navigation To Happiness
navigation.to.happiness@gmail.com