I’ve started reading oracle cards again. I never really intended to stop, but between the chaos of the renovations and the inquisitiveness of the children, they got stuffed in a box and put “somewhere safe.” My husband found them recently and I realized how badly I had missed them.
Suddenly I’m given this picture of myself trying to repeat the past and heading towards the same outcomes that I’ve already experienced. Yikes, because my past was a nightmare.
I decided to stop reading anything on Facebook. Instead of checking it every morning hoping for something worthwhile (but mostly slogging through crap I don’t care about), I decided to read the Book of Mormon instead. I’ve been feeling much better since doing that; less freaked out about being a permanent ‘weirdo’.
I got a planner. I’ve only been using it this week, so I don’t know how well I’ll stick with it long term, but I like writing things down in colorful pens and feeling like I’m accomplishing things.
I also bought a cheap Chinese skirt, because American fashion sucks so bad, and I’m petite enough that I can get away with wearing Asian clothing. I really adore it, so I’ll probably replicate it in my own sewing room. I feel as pretty as a princess.
I’ve been doing organized preschool activities with our 4-year-old, and it’s been keeping me so busy. The funny thing is, I really like it, and am coming up with more ways to keep busy for most of the day.
Dog days of summer indeed. Feels like the air conditioning isn’t making much of a dent on all of this heat and humidity.
The kids are sick again. After the four-year-old it was the baby, and now this morning it’s the toddler. It’s unfortunate that every time I figure out a good routine, everyone gets sick and we fall out of it. I want to do yoga every day, feel more in control of my life, and stop forgetting things.
I especially really want to stop forgetting things.
Our four-year-old has been misbehaving badly and driving me crazy over the past few days. Sometimes I wonder if her behavior is too far outside of normal, if she has some sort of special needs that we haven’t figured out yet. Or maybe I’m just a terrible mother.
She’s grounded, and spending a lot of time alone in her bedroom in timeout. I’m raising my kids without any outside support, no one I can talk to in the middle of the day when things are going rough, and I don’t have the emotional reserves to be perfect through this sort of misbehavior. After four years, I don’t have the patience.
I’m tired of feeling like my life is being run by a screaming little tyrant. Tired of reading parenting books, and of having nothing work. Tired of thinking negative things about her that I would never dare to say out loud, because she’s pushed me too far.
I have no clue how to raise this child.
We ran into a married couple a few weeks ago at a fast food place, and conversed a bit before going on our way. On Monday we discovered that they live in some nearby apartments while we were out on our evening walk, and picked up the conversation. Next thing I know, we had them over for dinner last night, and they didn’t care at all about the bathtub in the kitchen.
I’m terrified of making new friends at this point. I’m scared that they’ll move away, or adopt “progressive” values and start preaching to me all about how my life is wrong, or something won’t work out.
Yet there was a moment when it hit me that I’ve gotten so used to walking on eggshells while conversing with others, I’ve almost forgotten who I really am underneath the vague and inoffensive comments. I don’t have to do that with them.
I don’t have to be afraid of coming across as too morbid.
Anyway, one of their appeals is that the husband acts protective of and responsible for his wife, who is probably about as gushy about babies as I am. I’ve gotten used to most married couples never being in the same room together, and my husband and I have often laughed over how we’re more affectionate with each other than any of the newlyweds at church. They’re the most similar to us of anyone that we’ve met.
My four-year-old threw up at 3AM, so I’m sleep deprived as usual. My poor baby.
I’m starting to feel like our bishop is persecuting us. He kept my husband after church for quite awhile so that he could insult our personal views and experiences, because not being sheltered and privileged is a huge minus in his book. I’m sorry that I offend others with the fact that I’m a stay-at-home mom, but my children are my entire world and I’m not going to throw that away.
I’m just really angry about it, and I don’t know what to do.
He’s starting to hurt my feelings. We’re just a couple of months away from being able to go to the temple, which is a HUGE DEAL in Mormonism, and instead of doing anything supportive, he’s pointlessly going out of his way to make us feel unwelcome.
Well we’re going, even if we never get any help from anyone. We’re going, even if everyone fights against us. We’re going.
I keep thinking about how people talk about veganism like it’s the healthy option, and when my husband argues against it, they dismiss him with a “haters gonna hate” type attitude. I wonder why he doesn’t tell them that he was raised strict vegetarian, that he was always hungry and sick as a child, and that he has chronic health problems now as a result. He probably doesn’t say anything for the same reason why I never share my experiences; because sometimes you crawl through hell, survive it through to the other side, and discover that the whole damn world is attacking you for having been so miserable.
I’m tired of people who have always sat cushy in their middle class lives trying to tell me what the world is like. People who have never been afraid pretending that they know what courage is. People who have never been hurt acting like they know what pain is. People who have never been happy, preaching like they know how to find it.
I’ve been fighting against a thousand thoughts that I knew I shouldn’t have, wouldn’t let myself have, and couldn’t make go away. Questioning my value as a mother, as a wife, as a person. There have been an uncomfortably high number of deaths in the area over the past couple of months, and the words kept passing through my mind, “Now would be the perfect time. What’s one more?”
But I have the most beautiful family in all the world, and there isn’t anything that I wouldn’t endure just to spend a moment longer with them.
I’ve been struggling a lot with dissociation. I stopped writing much about mental health because the internet is stupid, but at this point I’ve probably drifted into obscurity enough that I can get away with it.
I want to be normal. I want to wake up in the morning, make myself up, achieve things throughout the day, then wash my face and put on pajamas at the end. It’s so basic, yet I always seem to crash in my clothes at the end. The kids never wear pajamas. And I feel bad that I can’t seem to follow the basic human outline of living.
I want to be the mom whose little girls have perfectly brushed hair with flowers clipped in.
Instead I’m such a mess. I can’t stop slipping out of existence, can’t stop the chronic pain, can’t stop feeling like a failure. I try so hard, and in the end there just isn’t enough energy inside of me.
I’ve started to lose weight.
And I don’t know how to catch hold of myself again.