The Aftermath of...

...Mother's Day is always interesting to watch.

You have a handful of moms who received wonderful thoughtful gifts and proclaim their pride in their children and spouses. It's wonderful!

Then you have the vast majority who had a Mother's Day that was less than stellar.

My beef with Mother's Day?

Do I really need a single day to know that my spouse and children love me and appreciate me?

I better fucking not! There better be no question of whether or not I'm loved by my family.

Mother's Day is a Hallmark holiday, just like Valentine's Day and Father's Day. It's a day to set up a specific group for disappointment at the hand of corporations who could give a rat's ass if your family treats you like a queen (or king) as long as you go buy shitty cards and flowers that will die within a week and create a collection of vases that just take up space. It's all about money.

On Mother's Day, I used to have huge expectations. I expected my kids not to fight and to come together to do something meaningful to make me feel loved on my special day. I expected my husband to field everything and to make sure that I felt special. My husband never disappointed, even though I'm not his mother, but my kids were kids. I was frustrated, yelling and crying about "How could you do this to me on my special day! I just want one day a year where it's about me!"

But really, it's not about me. At all. It's about the fact that someone calls me "Mom" and they do special things all year long to let me know how much they love me. Snuggling on the couch to watch a movie, a call from a teenager, a swiped flower from a neighbor's yard, an unsolicited "I love you", a hug, a smile, a thank you. THAT'S what being a mom is all about.

Not some one day celebration of motherhood.

It's nice when they remember, but it's nicer when they do it because they want to, not because a calendar says they have to.

~Kim

Prepubescent Daughters...

...are something else!

I don't have any idea how I'm going to survive my youngest and only girl. The mood swings are gigantic and unpredictable. Moreso than even my own!

My poor husband.

I'm pretty sure I know why he works in another state, I want to work in another state...Hell, another country!

For the next 7 years.

At least.

You know, the boys when through some bull shit when it was time for puberty, but nothing like this.

Not even BEING a prepubescent girl is helping. I mean, yeah, I'm in my 40s, but I still remember what it was like to be a preteen...Although, my preteen years were marred by tragedy, I don't remember ever being a psychopath.

I actually think I might be more of a psychopath now than I was in my preteens and teens.

For example, she painted her fingernails. Instead of patiently letting them dry...she poked on and it left a mark. There was a meltdown of epic proportions. Screaming, crying, and stomping around the house. The wiped all of it off with a tissue because she was out of nail polish remover which sent more gales of frustrating yeowls.

She's just barely into puberty...I mean just a smidgen. I fear for the days of full blown PMS and cramps and actual boyfriends.

If I live long enough to see that, I mean.

~Kim

Mordant Matriarch Podcast Episode 3 Transcript

Podcasts can be found here: Mordant Matriarch Episode 3

Welcome to The Mordant Matriarch Podcast Episode 3.

I’m your host, Kim, Matriarch extraordinaire.

You can find the full transcript of this episode at www.mordantmatriarch.blogspot.com.

We talk a lot about what other people do and don’t do when it comes to “momming”, but you rarely hear what mothers have to do themselves.

Yeah, I know that we all bitch (out loud to other women) about having to be the maid, the nurse, the chef, and everything else we have on our plate. But let’s talk about households out loud.

We’ll start out exploring single moms. I’m as close to a single mom as a married woman can get. The only thing that I don’t do that they do is work a full time job while doing everything else. Please, don’t take that as an insult, single mommas. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, you ladies are fucking warriors! Some of you don’t even get child support from your children’s dad or dads in any way whatsoever. Which I think is completely bull shit, but that’s for another podcast.

Not only do you do all of the physical stuff, you’re solely responsible for their mental health as well.

If something goes south, you’re the one that deals with the fallout. Consoling your child or chastising him/her. Providing discipline if your kid is on the doling end of trouble. All the while dealing with your own feelings on every situation. Some of you have familial support, grandmas, grandpas, aunts, uncles, etc., but some of you don’t. Even sometimes familial support isn’t enough because everyone has a different point of view than a mom. This is when you need a best friend. Someone that you can tell your secrets to, your feelings, or just breakdown. Sadly, not everyone has this either.

Now on to married moms/moms in relationships. You have a husband/boyfriend or a wife/girlfriend who should be your greatest supporter. You’ve had children together, you’re a team, right? In some cases, that’s very true! Your significant other is in the trenches with you through everything. Some of you have the yin to your yang. You fit together like perfect puzzle pieces, but even so, mothers view everything differently than fathers (if you’re married to a wife or with a girlfriend, I can’t speak to how that works out because I know it’s like a typical relationship in a lot of ways, but I’m not sure how the empathy and nurturing is different or the same). I’m sure there’s something physio that explains it, but I’m not even sure scientists can pinpoint what it is. Regardless of what we’d like to have our male spouses (again I can only speak to this) be like, they’ll never have the same bond a mother has with her child. They’ll rarely be the one to shoulder the heaviest of loads, I’m not saying it doesn’t happen, but it’s rare.

Whether we want to believe it or not, our society is still staunchly patriarchal. It’s not as black and white as the 50’s, but it’s still there. We, as women, are working to change the tide, but it’s a long row to hoe. We’ve allowed men to be the bread winners, the hunter and gatherers, while we worked behind the scenes to make sure our homes are running like well-oiled machines. Little Suzy and Timmy are well-behaved, well dressed, clean, polite, well-adjusted, well-socialized, well-educated because Mom does her job and Dad does his. The kids seek out Mom because Mom is always there. Mom is the cheerleader, the nurse, the cook, the launderer, the dishwasher, the boo-boo fixer, the first heartbeat they ever heard.

When shit goes bad, if they go to anyone, they go to Mom. So, when it hits the proverbial fan in a way that affects the entire family, Mom is the one who everyone looks to to fix everything. She’s the emotional support for the entire family. She consoles the most affected child, and if she has more than one, she explains and explains and comforts and reassures the other(s). She also helps her husband get past whatever feelings he might feel and if it’s really big, she consoles, explains, and talks to extended family. She shoulders it all. WE shoulder it all.

We talk to our friends in a matter of fact way, sometimes we even rave to our friends, but it doesn’t quell the inner turmoil because we’re not only dealing with our feelings. We’re dealing with EVERYONE’S feelings.

So, on top of all the other bull shit we’re expected to do as mothers (working or not, single or in a relationship, because we all bear the same thing regardless), we’re trying to make everything alright for everyone. Sometimes, we never get the chance to deal with our own feelings while we’re doing. Sometimes it’s years and the urgency long forgotten by everyone else.

They either become skeletons in the family closet, or we shove it so far down because we have to continue to do all the usual things. There’s a saying, “No rest for the wicked.” There’s a definition of wicked that is “going beyond reasonable or predictable limits : of exceptional quality or degree” according to Merriam and Webster’s dictionary. It’s in this definition that mothers are wicked. Sometimes they fit into the others, you can look those up yourself, but this one is the most fitting over the most mothers. Which is why we do the things we do. Because we can.

I want you to think about this every time you feel like you can’t go on. Every single mother (with the exception of few) is a wicked warrior. We very literally have the capability to do it all.

The other take away from this is: Build a support system. It’s so important. Build a tribe. Be a part of someone else’s tribe.

Stop doing it all alone.

Today’s rant:

Stop settling. Seriously, stop settling. Stop taking the easy route. Stop using your fear as an excuse. There is no reason that you should accept anything but the best from anyone in your life. I get the psychological ramifications of comfort, knowledge, and even predictability in the status quo. I totally get it, but there has to come a point where you say, “This is bull shit! I deserve better than what I’m getting here!” and you formulate a plan to change what you’re doing.

Demand the promotion. Demand the respect from others. Demand respect from yourself! Learn your worth and discard anyone who doesn’t see it. Take the leap. Teach your children respect for themselves and respect for others. Teach them their worth by showing them yours. You are setting the example for your children.

Every time you do something, think about it. Think about it in terms of your sons and your daughters. “How would I feel if this was happening to my child?” If the answer is anything but happy or proud, squash it. 

Squash the fuck out of it.

There’s a difference between knowing self-worth and being egotistical. Know the difference. Live the difference.

Stop fucking settling! Please!

Judged Me:

This is brought to you by Eternally Exhausted.

“I was in the grocery store with my two toddlers, 3 and 1. Usually, I’m well prepared for a shopping trip, but this one got out of control so quickly that I didn’t see it coming until it was too late. We were going up and down the aisles and I was matching my coupons to the items on the shelf. Of course, I was driving the tractor trailer of shopping carts so that I didn’t have to have two because you know that the 3 year old cannot be trusted to walk through the store. I rounded the corner with my gigantic shopping cart and accidentally ran into the behind of a man stopped at the end of the aisle. I blushed and apologized trying to explain how hard these stupid things are to push, especially when there are two tiny distractions loaded inside. He exclaimed, ‘Jesus lady! Watch where you’re going! You could have really hurt me!’ as if I came around the corner at 90 miles an hour with the intent of mowing down everything in my path.

When the man yelled, it set off my 1 year old. She had that look of shock on her face that only a toddler can and started crying. I’m trying to comfort her and the man is mumbling under his breath how children should be left at home so they don’t bother other people.

I mean, seriously?! I apologized again and pushed on with my blubbering one year old and the three year old is chattering like a chipmunk. I can’t hear him over her sobs, and he starts to get frustrated. Then he’s raising his voice over hers, which makes her cry harder. At this point, I’m ready to surrender, but I was almost done, so I thought maybe I could zoom down the aisles and grab the last of the things I needed and get the hell out. I shouldn’t have.

I grabbed my last 3 items and hurried toward the registers. I passed the man I had run into and he was with his wife. “That’s the woman I was telling you about! Look at her. Her kids are out of control and she’s not doing anything about it!”

I almost expected his wife to shut him up, but instead she replied, “Our children never behaved like that! These young people don’t know what they’re doing!”

Now, I’m holding back angry tears and both of my kids are having monumental meltdowns. I just want to get out of there.

I shot them both an angry look and ran for the front of the store. I picked the shortest line, which ended up having the slowest cashier on planet earth. The kids are grabbing at all the crap the stores geniously stuck within arm’s reach and I’m battling them as I’m trying to load my items on the belt, cramming them in the smallest of spaces. The woman in front of me muttered something about misbehaving kids while I was proving my prowess as an octopus. The kids were in an uproar. Then I lost it. Instead of anyone consoling me, they just stared. The looked at me like I had three heads and gills. No words of encouragement, just stares of judgement. It was awful.”

Want to share your stories? Send an email to mordantmatriarch@gmail.com with “Judged Me” in the subject line. All stories will be shared anonymously. You’re welcome to sign them however you like. (i.e. Judy Judged A Lot or Can’t We Be Friends) The only time you will ever hear from me is when your story is going to air.

Dear Matriarch:

Today’s question was sent in by Stumped Spouse.

She wants to know “How do I get my husband to help out with the kids and the house?”

(laughter)

Dear Stumped,

Sorry. Sorry about that. It’s an age old question that has lots of answers and nothing proven.

This goes along with something I said earlier. We’re weaving our way out of the patriarchal society that we’ve, as women, have allowed to happen, but it’s going to be long before the men are sensitive and knowledgeable about what women need when it comes to a partner.

So, for now, all you can do is ask. Seriously, it’s that simple. “Hey, can you help with the dishes?” or “Can you give Robin a bath?” If he still won’t help…re-listen to the rant above.

Dear Matriarch is the mother of advice spots. You can ask me anything. I can’t promise I’ll see things the way you do, but I can promise I will always be honest.

I will also provide you with facts if need be.

Have a question that you want answered? Send it to mordantmatriarch@gmail.com with “Dear Matriarch” in the subject line. The only time you will ever hear from me is when your question is airing.

So that’s it. That’s a wrap.

Today’s podcast was sponsored by The ADHD Quilter. Custom creations for everyone. www.theadhdquilter.com. If you can dream it she can do it. Incidentally, that’s me because no one else knows this podcast exists.

If you’re interested in sponsoring an episode, send an email to mordantmatriarch@gmail.com with “Sponsor” in the subject line and we’ll work something out!

One last thing before I go. I do this for free. I’m too small for sponsors and I don’t want a ton of ads across my site so if you’d like to help a sister out, there is a “Donate” button on the website. It will help keep me from having to do all those things I complain about on other sites. And one day, I might actually get the button up.

Thanks for listening! See you next time.                       

Momming in an Atypical Marriage...

is atypical (didn't see that coming did you?).

I catch a lot of flack for my marriage. It's really none of anyone's business, but because people see our family doing it differently they feel the need to comment.

I'm an oilfield widow.

No no, my husband didn't die in the oilfields, he just works there...All.The.Time.

He's traveled all over the U.S. for work. For the last ten years, with the exception of about eightmonths, I've done the majority of married life alone. I jokingly call myself a married, single mother.

I hope that the actual single mothers don't take offense to this. What you do is nothing short of amazing. While some of you have amazing dads for your kids that provide and are being dads, a lot of you do it all on your own. I have no words for how incredible you women are. I mean to take absolutely nothing away from any of you.

What I've done, for what feels like forever, is manage a household, raise three children, for a time I went back to school, and work part time while my husband sacrifices so much so that I can stay home and do all of those things.

Really, this probably saved my life.

If you've read any of the last few posts around here, you know that I have been dealing with severe depression for a couple of decades. By dealing with, I mean existing and nothing more.

I have massive guilt for how much more I could have done for my kids if I was functioning like a normal human being, but I digress.

We've gone months without seeing each other. He missed out on tons of the kids' activities, successes, failures, and a ton of firsts. We often talk about the sacrifices women make for their children, but rarely do we approach the other side of the coin.

Expectations put on mothers set fathers up to sacrifice. We refer to them as baby sitters, but they shouldn't be. There are two people who created life, there should be two people who care for and own that responsibility. Dads should be able to be dads. They should be able to play Barbies with their daughters and teach their boys how to pee in the woods without prodding from Mom.

Our society is slowly changing and finally ALLOWING (that's crazy isn't it?) dads to be more than just "hunters and gatherers". It's allowing them to be sensitive and caring with their children, to take time from hunting and gathering to be there for the first weeks of new life, and most of all, it's allowing them to be more present than ever.

Most of the men will have to completely abandon what their father's taught them. You know, the "little lady in the kitchen with the immaculate house that don't say shit if they have a mouth full about anything."

That's going to take GENERATIONS! Seriously, generations! Now, don't get me wrong, there are some men who have already broken the mold, but it's a small sample. It's a social revolution that I'm excited that my own boys will be a part of.

~Kim

Car Ride Conversation #1

My YouTube channel is still buggered.

I'm hoping that my first "vlog" (I can't get over writing that word) will upload before I'm old enough to retire.

So I'm going to give a shot to embedding the video in this post, just so I can get it up and repost tomorrow with the link to my YouTube channel.

 

So here it is...My first actual "Car Ride Conversation. I hope it doesn't suck.

~Kim

P.S. I'll learn how to edit eventually too!

It Has Been A While...

...since I posted.

My apologies for that, but life has been a little hairy.

Our family had a huge crisis and the good ole me snuck right in and shut down.

The good news, I only shut down for a couple of days. The rest has been dealing with the crisis and living a life of a little more freedom from the black monster.

I've been cleaning.

Yep, you've read that right! Cleaning!

I'm an eternal slob, just ask my mother and she'll regale you with tales of my childhood messes and slobbobian (her word for me) ways. It had gotten so bad that I didn't even see the point in cleaning at all.

After all, with three kids, it was just going to get dirty again, right? Yeah, that logic doesn't really work when there are three kids who are old enough to clean up after themselves, but instead, because they've seen your laziness (that's what they attribute it to, but I know better) they don't feel the need to do so.

Living in a constant state of messes and dirt has recently stopped being my style. I suddenly want my friends to come over. Most of them won't judge me, but I'm starting to feel embarrassed about the way my house looks.

I want to be able to invite my mother over to dinner, or lunch, or just to sit in the back yard. I want that without the fear of lecture about my housekeeping skills (or lack there of).

I want friends to be able to pop over and come in, despite the crazily barking dog, anytime.

When someone comes over to pick me up, I want them to be able to come in the front door and walk into my kitchen.

I want to be social again. I want it more than anything in the world. I miss that part of me so very much. I'm getting there.

I still have to be cajoled to leave the house a little more than necessary, and too many people in a place still makes me want to turn tail and go home, but I'm working on it.

I'm also learning how to accept help from my friends. Despite the fact that I have lived in an eternal funk, I am always the helper. It was a little piece of me that I refused to let get completely consumed. Honestly, I will never get used to being on the other end, but I'm trying. And I appreciate the friends who are trying to help me.

Overall, I haven't written a post because I didn't know what to say. I thought I was back sliding, but it turns out that I was just having a "normal person" funk. Temporary.

~Kim

P.S. I've started writing another book. This one is non-fiction and I will release details here as the writing progresses. If you're a mother, you'll want to stay tuned....If you're not, it'll still be a fun ride!

Ugh...That's All I've Got...

Really...It is.

My positivity is waning.

Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to try to get yourself fired up every single day? To will a medication to be the answer?

It's fucking taxing and this motor has run out of gas.

Damn it.

Damn it.

Damn it.

I've got thirteen days until the first thirty are in the books. I'm exasperated, really.

While I've done a few things and I am having more good days, I'm afraid they're self-inflicted and I'm not sure I can continue on.

For example, while I did take D and her friend swimming today at the local pool, I sat in bed until 11:00. I didn't want to go downstairs because I knew what my house looked like. I knew that I was going to have to fight the kids to get them to help do anything. I knew that I had no desire to do anything myself.

I did manage to throw in a load of laundry (crap gotta switch it to the dryer or it'll be stinky and I'll have to rewash it), but that's it.

I still haven't called the therapist that called me on the recommendation of my doctor. I'm not sure what's stopping me (shit, I just remembered something else I was supposed to do today! UGH!) because I KNOW I need that help, too. I just...I just can't make myself do it.

I'll be out tomorrow at a family thing. I'd rather send the kids and stay in bed, but that would be wrong and I know I'll have a nice time.

Son of a bitch. I'll set a reminder on my calendar for Monday, maybe I can get my shit together by then.

~Kim

I Promised Transparency...

...so here we go.

Yeah, I know it's STILL day...um...hang on...day...um...16 maybe...whatever. It's irrelevant.

I'm doing a lot of soul searching.

Trying to figure out what crappy habits need to go and what new habits need to be created is hard work.

Being honest with myself is hard as hell, too.

My drive to help the meds work is dwindling. Apparently, I can only be an optimist for so many consecutive days before I just say fuck it and go back to the old me. Not completely the old me, but a couple versions ahead. Maybe.

My brain fog has lifted some. My short term memory is still trash, but I'm assuming it'll come back around eventually. I can think more clearly. I can focus on things (most of the time) and give my full attention.

I'm still quick to anger. I still don't want to get out of bed about half the days of the week, but that's an improvement in itself. I still struggle to make myself take a shower. I still struggle to get off the couch to complete tasks about half the time. I go through energetic spurts where I get a shit load of stuff done and other days, not so much.

That last thing is really no different than before with the exception that they seem to happen more often than, say, once every 6 months. In 16 days, I've gotten a lot more done.

I'm NOT dealing with stress any better. I've got plenty of crappy stress rearing its ugly head and I just can't handle it. Where before,  I would completely shut down, now...Well, I don't completely shut down. I'm trying so hard to keep functioning through it.

I'm sleeping better. I've noticed that my body is getting tired earlier and that I'm going to sleep at a decent hour. This in-turn allows me to awaken at a decent hour and not feel completely exhausted.

I've also noticed a change in my appetite. I'm eating less and not in a "I gotta get skinny" kind of way. In a passive way. You know, I'm not constantly eating. Smaller meals, smaller portions, and it's happening in a completely organic way.

Eventually, I want to transition to Keto, but that's down the line a bit (I tried last month, but I couldn't do it...stress eating is a bitch).

So there it is...A little over the halfway point and there's what's changed, what hasn't, and other random things.

~Kim

I Opened This...

yesterday to write a post.

It was day 15...Today is day 16.

My stress level is so high. I'm back to minimal functioning.

Did you ever have a person in your life that was just constantly on you for every single mistake you've made that they know of? You know, the type of person to remind you of the past and tell you you're doing it wrong in the present. They also tell you that whatever you're doing for the future won't work because of the past. Like the past is some kind of fucking blueprint that you have to follow.

As if you can never move forward because you've changed (or are trying to change).

Let me tell you something. You might move back and forth on the same landscape, but there is no need to follow the same footsteps. Now, normally, the footprints would slowly wear away if you didn't use them anymore, right? Imagine a person who constantly puts you back in those footsteps, even though you know they're not on the path you want to take.

I have a person like that in my life.

Yeah, I hear you telling me to cut this person out, but there are just somethings that I cannot do. That is one of them.

I'm working on blocking out the noise so that I can concentrate on what I want to achieve (and come back and be very "BOOYAH! I TOLD you I could! I'll accept your apology whenever you're ready.").

I'm learning how to prioritize. Boy, that's something else. I'm also trying to learn how to follow through, something that I've struggled with as long as I can remember.

That being said, I have accomplished a lot in the public eye, but someone else was holding me accountable and I couldn't let them know that sometimes I just can't even make it out of bed. I couldn't let the world know that I was battling depression. I don't want sympathy. Never did.

I didn't want anyone who was not in my inner circle to know what I was like behind closed doors.

Once, I drove to work and sat in the parking lot for fifteen minutes convincing myself to go in. The day after that, I stopped picking up jobs. I knew then that things were going to get much worse.

Now I'm trying to weed my way out of the mire and I keep getting shoved back in. Due to the fact that my life has been a mess for twenty years, I'm not able to change. Not able to get my shit in order. I'm incapable.

BULL SHIT!

I no longer feel responsible for someone's opinion of me, my mistakes, or my life choices. I have given myself permission to let go, ignore, or possibly fight back.

I'm empowering myself!

~Kim

If There Was Ever...

...any question about whether this is a miracle cure or not. Last night and today answered that.

It's day 9.

I'm overwhelmed. Shit happened and I "can't even" right now.

Everything the kids are doing is annoying the ever-loving shit out of me. Even stuff that shouldn't.

I can't adult. I had to accept some help. I feel guilty. I'm also angry, sad, anxious, and depressed.

Mind over matter only lasts so long. Twenty-one more days will make the thirty in which I could be feeling the full effect of the meds.

I'm feeling hopeless, but it's not hopeless that this treatment is the right path. It's hopeless that I let things go wrong for so long in life that I'll never be able to fix them. The shit storms will keep coming and there's nothing that I can do about it. My molehills have become mountains again.

It's becoming more obvious to me that I cannot handle stress. I functioned today. I didn't want to, but I did anyhow. So, I guess that's something.

All I can think of right now is, "Fuck!"

~Kim

You Know You're...

...doing better when you can actually force yourself to do things!

Day 8 and here I am.

I didn't want to write a post. There's really nothing significant between yesterday's late afternoon post and today's.

The only thing that I really wish would change is my sleep pattern. I'm still waking up tired.

It's Independence Day. I'm sure there are BBQs and family gatherings all over the place, but my family doesn't have one anymore since my grandma passed away and the family pretty much all went its separate ways.

I hope you're enjoying the day with your family. Hopefully, next year at this time, I will have the wherewithal to put together my own gathering.

I didn't realize how lonely depression would leave me. I've turned down so many invitations to places that I rarely get invited anymore. I've made my friends have to work so hard to be my friend that I can't imagine what they say about me to their spouses and other friends who are normal functioning people.

Huh. There's something that I never would have realized. I guess forcing myself to write this post revealed something that was just below the surface.

Thanks to my friends who have worked so hard to stay a part of my life. I thought it was just the fact that our kids have grown up and we don't find ourselves in the same places (i.e. the little league baseball fields) anymore. I now realize how hard I have been to maintain any kind of friendship with.

Damn. I think I'll have a pity party today. Fireworks and all!

~Kim

Wow! Where Did...

...the day go?!

It's day 7 and I've been so busy all day that my post is coming a lot later than usual.

Between ensuring one of my teens is sufficiently punished, visiting with my mom, making sure that the youngest is thoroughly pissed at me, and letting the oldest sleep because he went on an overnight cleaning bender, it's been one hell of a day!

I just wrapped up doing some dishes and am contemplating what to cook for dinner. It's probably one of the fullest days I've had in a long time.

The kicker for me? I still want to get other stuff done today!

I am feeling a little tired, my sleep hasn't quite regulated yet. I'm still awake later than I want to be, but am getting out of bed at a decent hour. I'm hoping that will sort itself out as I learn how to let the stress of life go little by little.

That's happening!

Don't get me wrong, I still have a laundry list of things that need me to 'deal' with them, but I am not looking at that list and just shutting down. It's incredible. It's such a weird feeling.

It's freeing.

I'm still convincing myself to sort out some counseling so that I learn how to take the inevitable "bad days" that come. I will. It's hard to break the procrastination habit. I'm a habitual procrastinator. (Gee, wonder why I'm always stressed, huh?) I cannot even remember a time that I wasn't.

I believe that may be my biggest hump. Doing what needs to be done, before it absolutely positively has to be done or after it already should have been done. (Gee...what a novel concept.)

I still have messes to clean up. I still have kids to rewire because my habits have become theirs in a lot of cases. I still am doing the majority of it by myself (don't get me wrong, the Patriarch has just as much stress, if not more, as I have). Somehow, it no longer feels like a mountain that I cannot move. I can see the small rocks and mid-sized boulders that I can move. I don't see it all as one big problem rather than a bunch of little ones. My perspective has changed.

I'm not sure if it's the meds or if it's just the fact that I knew these things all along. Quite frankly, I think it's a combination of the two. The meds are allowing my brain to function more normally. Therefore, I can think about things individually rather than one big lump of suck.

I've been having thoughts of getting back to writing. I've got a few people who are awaiting my next book, and I think I may be able to get sorted out soon. This is a huge deal for me. I miss writing.

So there you have it. I feel human. I actually don't mind leaving my house. I'm making molehills out of mountains. Go me!

~Kim

Are You As Tired...

...of this as I am?

It's day five. It's so funny, I keep expecting to just wake up one morning and feel right. Now, the intellectual side of me knows this is bull shit and it doesn't work like that, but the dreamer side of me has an image of how I want things to go.

I'm currently listening to Rose Madder by Stephen King on Audible. (Stop it! I can hear you!) It's really interesting because I'm really identifying with Rose's inner dialogue. She has a voice she calls "Practical-Sensible" and I have that voice too. She has it because she's fleeing from an abusive marriage. I have the same voice, only mine keeps me grounded.

Being grounded is a hard thing for me. I have a tendency to build lofty goals (only to fail usually). My creative mind, the same one I use to write, likes to build my ego up, then "Practical-Sensible" shows up and grapples me back down to earth. Usually, within a few days, and sometimes even immediately.

"Practical-Sensible" reminds me of all the research that I have done on depression, depression medications, therapy, and recovery. She reminds me that there is no miracle cure. She reminds me that depression isn't something I can control. She also reminds me that if I don't find a therapist, the best drugs on Earth can't help me. She reminds me that recovery takes time, energy, and change.

On occasion, I've been known to stifle her, but I'm coming to the realization that I can't.

Well, I shouldn't.

If I didn't have that "Practical-Sensible" voice in my head, my kids would be introverts, wallowing with me in my depression. That voice came into existence when I needed to pick myself by the boot straps (as so many people have told me over the years) for my kids. When I needed to make doctors' appointments, when I needed to advocate for my special needs kid, when I had to wake up every morning and drag myself out of bed and take the kids to school, I needed her to keep me grounded then and she continues to keep me grounded now.

So, I guess I should thank Stephen King for giving an identity for one of the voices in my head that has helped me function.

Who knew a prolific author of horror novels was such a scholar of the human condition?

~Kim

Dun duh...

...duuuuuuuuuuuuuun!

Now that I have your attention, I'd like to remind you that it's day four.

Yesterday was a good day. I got a lot done, I felt accomplished, and I tried to keep it going.

So far today, I'm nonplussed. I woke up tired. Everything my daughter says to me is irritating. The stresses of every day life are sneaking back in.

In other words, the newness has worn off.

Don't get me wrong, I still have hope for the future, but the reality that even "normal" people have bad days is lurking. I don't want to have bad days, but I want to have good days.

As my wise husband says (I totally need a sarcasm font), "You can't have good days if you don't have bad days." The philosopher of my life.

Just typing that makes me want to smack him upside the head. Not even because his little quips of wisdom come at annoying times, but mostly because he's right. And now I want to smack myself upside the head because I just typed an admission of my husband actually being right.

Anyhow, he's right. (Damn it. I said it again.)

Today is a down day. It's alright. I mean I'm four days into a medication that probably takes a month to build up in my system to proper levels.

The mission next week is to find a therapist. I need to find someone to help me cope with all of the stress of every day life. Someone who can help me cope with the kids, money, and life without shutting down the minute I feel overwhelmed.

We've got to travel tonight for baseball. Generally, the only reason I leave my house; a kids' activity.

It's alright. I'll do it, like I always do. Hopefully, I can get a nap today and maybe find a little more energy.

Keep trudging forward. Life looms around every corner. I want to live it.

~Kim

So, Now It's...

...day two.

No new news to report.

I'm not surprised, I didn't expect there to be anything.

I did have to explain to someone close to me that changes weren't going to happen overnight. When I was asked, "Do you feel any different?" I had to concede that I did not indeed feel different.

I wanted to feel different, but I knew I wouldn't. Still, saying it out loud felt like defeat. It bled into my hope.

I've spent most of my life being a realist. Okay, that's a lie. I spent most of my life being a dreamer. I dreamt of the things I could do or could be if I could just make myself do this, that, or the other. If I could just make myself get out of bed with a smile on my face and set goals, I could accomplish anything.

I believed, for a couple of decades, that I could beat depression if I set my mind to it. You know, the mind that's sabotaging me at every turn.

The mind that's giving me these wonderful ideas that I could be a successful writer. The mind that says, "You could be a great baker! You should open a bakery!" The mind that says, "You absolutely SHOULD do this, because you'd be a huge success! You're special!"

The mind that the next day says, "Are you sure you even want to get out of bed?" The mind that tells me that showers are too much work. The mind that tells me that it's just too much work to be successful, eat a cookie.

My mind knows that I should be taking the dog for walks every day, but won't allow me to get my ass off the couch because it takes effort. The mind that deals with stress and tasks by being overwhelmed and doing nothing.

I worried for a long time that getting treatment for depression would take away my creativity. It is almost as if I am addicted to depression. Much in the same way an alcoholic says, "I can quit any time I want to," yet can't refuse a beer. The way an addict's body wants something; drugs, alcohol, or even food, my body is so used to being depressed that it is afraid to be anything else.

I clinging to hope. Hope is all I have.

~Kim

The Five Reasons I Get Out Of Bed Every Day #5

You guys.

This was the easiest one, really.

My goal in life is to change the world. Not too big of a deal.

While I know that may seem like a lofty goal, I start small.

You, the one reading this right now. Know that you're one of the reasons I get out of bed in the morning. I want to make you laugh. I want to make you cry. I want you to know that you're not alone in your struggles. I want my small triumphs to empower you to make your own.

If I make just one of you feel a little less alone in the world, then I've achieved a part of my goal.

If I've ever inspired you to do something outside of your comfort zone, then I consider my getting out of bed that day a success.

If my stories made you smile or laugh out loud, then I've scored one for the good guys!

While writing this blog is a great outlet for me, I hope for greater things than that for it.

You, Dear Reader, are in the top five!

Thanks!

~Kim

photo credit: Earth (license)

We've Got Spirit...

Yes we do! We've got spirit! How 'bout you!

If you ever went to a high school football game, you've either chanted it for your team or heard it chanted.

I've got no spirit.

None.

I feel a little guilty because I'm not out supporting the local high school on Friday nights, freezing my ass off, cheering on the football team. Not guilty enough to change the fact, but a little bit.

I'm all for supporting schools, as long as I don't have to be involved.

I used to be involved in everything. PTA, classroom volunteering, and all the other crazy stuff that moms do.

Now, I have no desire to do any of it. I'll buy the kids spirit wear. I'll send money for stuff. I'll even let my kids sell the outrageously priced fundraising stuff to people we know. I'm also about to vote yes for a referendum in our school district that will up my property taxes because I know they need it to keep our schools functional.

I WORK in the school system. Very part-time and relatively unattached, but I'm in the schools.

I figured out why.

I'm bitter.

It's not the school's fault. It's my expectation's fault.

I had expectations for my kids.

One is busting his ass to live up to them (even though I never specifically shared them with him, just keep shoving him in the direction I'm hoping is best for him).

One is fighting the system.

And the other one is just too young for me to know yet.

Let me tell you what I'm bitter about.

I'm bitter that my oldest son is disabled (and don't feed me the bullshit about "differently abled"). I'm bitter that he's so smart, but his ears don't work very well and that's made life hard for him. I'm bitter that he can't successfully go to the local high school and has to live far from home to get the opportunities that he deserves. I'm bitter that most (I know several who don't fit this bill) see a kid who's got a deaf accent and is socially awkward instead of a kid who's good at sports and just wants to fit in. I'm bitter that he may actually be talented enough to go beyond and they no amount of school spirit will help him overcome the obstacles he'll have to maneuver around.

I'm bitter that my middle son is such a challenge. Yep, you read that right. Now here's why. He's smart, but thinks he's dumb. He's lazy (like his mother was back in the day). He was supposed to be different. Yep, you read that right too. He was supposed to be my reward for struggling with the oldest one. I'm bitter because no amount of school spirit will solve any of the issues that I have worked so hard and failed to improve.

I'm bitter that my daughter is just like me. She's athletic. She's smart. She's doing well in school. She's social. I'm terrified about her future.

Most of all, I'm bitter that I'm bitter.

I'm supposed to be this parent who is capable of raising her children without ranklement.

~Kim

photo credit:
Megaphones
Lemons 

Functioning at a High Level...

...is overrated.

Or at least that's what I'm telling myself.

School is coming up oh-so-quickly. I've been counting the days, since baseball ended that is. The kids have been bored and I've been at a physical standstill.

I berate myself daily about how little I've gotten done.

Truth be told, I have zero motivation. None. Zip. Zilch.

I thought it would return after The Patriarch went back out of town. Knowing I didn't have the advantage of waiting for him to do it should have kicked me into high gear. Instead, it has put me in complete Park mode.

I do the absolute minimum that I'll let myself get away with. Which, some days, is no more than getting out of bed and making sure the kids aren't killing each other.

This often incurs lectures from my mom about how I need to, "get off my ass," to quote her directly.

What my mom, and countless other people, haven't come to understand is that no matter how much I want to "get off my ass," sometimes I just cannot.

I go to bed thinking about all the things that I want to accomplish the next day because I managed so little that particular day. I have lists of things that should be done. In my defense, if it's pressing and needs to get done I do it, but if it can wait, it does.

I put on a pretty good front for my acquaintances, most wouldn't guess that behind closed doors I suffer from debilitating depression. Hell, some of my close friends were shocked when they figured it out.

I'm not depressed in a way that makes me suicidal. I have too much to live for. Those three pains in my ass, The Patriarch, and my mom are the first five things that come to mind. Although, I do wonder at times if they wouldn't be better off without this lump that can go from quietly reading to ready to snap at break-neck speed. That's always as far as it goes.

I sit in front of my computer every day with the intention to work on my next book. Every. Single. Day. Then the voice in my head starts. It questions why I even bother, I'll never be good, I'll never be a best seller. It tells me all the negativity surrounding everything I do. Sometimes, I reach in the back of my brain and kick his ass, other days, he wins. I don't write.

Everything that I enjoy doing has its own voice of doom. Even things that I don't enjoy doing but are an evil necessary have one.

When it's time to work, "Don't take that job, you're not a real teacher anyhow."

When it's time to play, "They only hang out with you because they feel bad for you."

When it's time to clean, "Why bother, it won't ever be good enough."

When there's time for sex, "Seriously, you want to get naked? Have you seen yourself?"

Every. Damn. Thing.

And sometimes I fight it off and I win, but most of the time, I just sit there. Sit there and do nothing until the shame spiral leads me deep into the catacombs where it takes days or weeks to even attempt to function again.

So, if you see me out, know that day I kicked that little bastard's ass. If I don't answer my phone, know I'm battling or recouping. If you see a blog post after some time of silence, I won the skirmish, but not the battle. It's that complicated.

~Kim

You Know, It's Okay...

To be unhappy.

Once again, hear me out.

Yes, there are people out there who have it worse than you do, but what's happening to you is happening to YOU! You're entitled to feel however you want to feel about the situation.

Yes, there are altruistic people out there doing the unthinkable. You should empathize with them, but that doesn't change the weight of your own feelings.

If your shoelace broke and you had to walk five blocks home before you could change shoes, feel annoyed, angry, or upset.

When you think, "There are people out there who don't even have shoes and here I am complaining that I had to walk five measly blocks home," you're right. There are people who have it worse than you do, BUT your life and your feelings are still valid. You can still be pissed off.

It's okay.

If you're so inclined, do something for someone without shoes.

If you're hungry and only have money for peanut butter and jelly, it's okay to be pissed.

Yes, there are people all over the world that go hungry. Feel empathy for them. Do something to help feed them, but you can still be mad that you don't have the money for something more.

Feelings of dissatisfaction with things that happen in your life aren't any less valid because you don't suffer as much as someone else.

As long as you can feel empathy.

Also, as long as you don't live there. Be annoyed, angry, sad, disheartened, happy, proud...be all of it or any of it...It's happening to you. You can feel any thing you want to feel. Just don't set up camp there.

Do something nice, when you can, for people who ARE less fortunate than you, but don't feel like it should invalidate your feelings.

~Kim