I started taking an antidepressant a year ago after my mom passed away. It was not the first time in my life to ever take one. Antidepressants and I go way back. 15 years back. This particular time, they were the most helpful they had ever been. I had just lost my mother, and they kept me from drowning. I also deal with anxiety a lot, outside of these circumstances. This antidepressant helped tremendously with it.
However, in the year since I began taking it, I have gained some weight. Not a few vanity pounds, but all of the weight I had lost I have gained, and I have not changed my diet at all. This is incredibly frustrating, and an anxiety source in itself. Aside from the weight gain, I finally feel like I am ready to try life without medication. Some time has come between myself and my grief. I still grieve, but not in that freshly wounded sort of way. It's manageable, even though it's the hardest awful thing in my life.
But it's creeping back in. The anxiety, that is. I feel like I am holding my breath waiting for the wave to take me under while hoping and praying it will never come.
I notice it when I am driving across the Pearl River Bridge. It's a narrow bridge and the guard rails are just outside of the lanes. There is no shoulder or room for error. If you veer out of your lane, you're donesies. The morbid thought of accidentally hitting the rails and going over engulfs me and I sometimes avoid the bridge and go around to get where I need to be. I know that it's not normal to think like that or being worried or even disrupt my route to avoid that anxiety. I also know that I didn't have this anxiety while taking medicine.
I want to fight this on my own. I have overcome so much in the past year and I think I have learned healthy coping skills. I also feel myself coming back into myself, if you know what I mean. I don't feel that sort of numb and could care less about anything and have no personal interests thing. I can watch movies again. Read novels. Write things from my heart. These are things I have been so desperately trying to get back to.
It feels good and this is me trying to get back to myself. Anxiety be damned.
Friday, February 19, 2016
Monday, February 8, 2016
Snack Attack
Snack time in a house with 4 boys can be stressful. It also feels like it is ALWAYS snack time! These boys put away some food. My grocery bill is ever climbing and I still have to run to the store around Wednesday to replenish staples.
For the past 2 weeks I have been trying something different and I am in love with it. Previously, snack time looked like rice cakes with peanut butter, halos (clementines), gogurt or cheese sticks. The supply of these would dwindle so fast because it would take 3-4 of each to fill a child up between lunch and dinner (have I mentioned my boys have ridiculous appetites?). I liked that they were eating healthier foods, but these are also more expensive.
In my town we are blessed with a salvage grocery store. It carries foods that have damaged packaging or has been discontinued and sometimes just plain out of date. Most of the time I find great deals there and can get organic and gluten free snacks for less than half the retail price. I can get a box of granola bars for a dollar. They usually come with 5-6 bars in them. If you've ever paid $3-4 for a box of granola bars for 4 kids. You are familiar with the pain of watching them devour them in one sitting.
So I spend about $12 a week on snacks. I don't pay over a dollar for any item. I get Mott's fruit roll ups, Quaker granola bars (not so healthy but what do you do), Cascadian Farms granola bars... and things like that. My children really like granola bars and they are a healthier choice than candy or chips. I buy a box of quart sized bags and divide them into snack bags. Each bag will have a variety and an even amount of snacks as the others. This way, when snack time comes I can have each boy pick a snack bag and I don't have to worry about "fixing" a snack for them. Also, there is much excitement surrounding snack time now!
I am still technically a stay at home mom, but I am outside of my home 17 hours a week (it's odd that I counted isn't it?) at college. I didn't think that being gone a small amount of time would have such a big impact but OHMYGOODNESS it absolutely does! When I get home from school around 2:30 in the afternoons twice a week, I want to sit down and take a breath and not jump right in to mom mode. Having this one little thing already taken care of is such a relief. If I did not leave the house for any reason during the week, I would be delighted to whip up a batch of cookies or homemade granola bars but I am just so pressed for time now. We have to cut corners where we can.
I put the snack bags up in the cabinet and I know exactly how many there are in case there are any "sneaky hands"!
For the past 2 weeks I have been trying something different and I am in love with it. Previously, snack time looked like rice cakes with peanut butter, halos (clementines), gogurt or cheese sticks. The supply of these would dwindle so fast because it would take 3-4 of each to fill a child up between lunch and dinner (have I mentioned my boys have ridiculous appetites?). I liked that they were eating healthier foods, but these are also more expensive.
In my town we are blessed with a salvage grocery store. It carries foods that have damaged packaging or has been discontinued and sometimes just plain out of date. Most of the time I find great deals there and can get organic and gluten free snacks for less than half the retail price. I can get a box of granola bars for a dollar. They usually come with 5-6 bars in them. If you've ever paid $3-4 for a box of granola bars for 4 kids. You are familiar with the pain of watching them devour them in one sitting.
So I spend about $12 a week on snacks. I don't pay over a dollar for any item. I get Mott's fruit roll ups, Quaker granola bars (not so healthy but what do you do), Cascadian Farms granola bars... and things like that. My children really like granola bars and they are a healthier choice than candy or chips. I buy a box of quart sized bags and divide them into snack bags. Each bag will have a variety and an even amount of snacks as the others. This way, when snack time comes I can have each boy pick a snack bag and I don't have to worry about "fixing" a snack for them. Also, there is much excitement surrounding snack time now!
I am still technically a stay at home mom, but I am outside of my home 17 hours a week (it's odd that I counted isn't it?) at college. I didn't think that being gone a small amount of time would have such a big impact but OHMYGOODNESS it absolutely does! When I get home from school around 2:30 in the afternoons twice a week, I want to sit down and take a breath and not jump right in to mom mode. Having this one little thing already taken care of is such a relief. If I did not leave the house for any reason during the week, I would be delighted to whip up a batch of cookies or homemade granola bars but I am just so pressed for time now. We have to cut corners where we can.
I put the snack bags up in the cabinet and I know exactly how many there are in case there are any "sneaky hands"!
Yes, they absolutely can get to them. We are basically using the honor system. So far so good.
Monday, January 25, 2016
Back to school as an older student
Going to college at the age of 30 is in a word: SCARY.
Until now, I had never attended classes on campus. I had only previously taken online courses. On my first day, the nervousness I had was very similar to the nervousness I would have when starting a new school as a child. I knew I didn't know anybody, didn't have any friends, and that is always such a tough situation to be in. I thought that being older, I would not concern myself with the opinions of my peers or even try very hard to blend in (my previous coping strategies).
I was wrong. So wrong.
In the adult world, I am completely comfortable being a person that feels confident in her own style choices and expressions of character. But put back inside of a school setting, that completely went away and I felt like such an outsider. I worried that the students would know I was older or somehow uncool and nobody would think I was worthy of getting to know. Like maybe because I am a mom I don't need friends so why bother. How awful and eye opening is that?
The other students are polite, but most don't make eye contact. Maybe that's not just me, maybe we as a society don't do that anymore. By now, our third week of class, they know that I am older, but not how much older. I'm 30, guys. I graduated high school 12 years ago. Back in 2004, when you were just in Kindergarten. That's right.
I don't even know what's cool anymore. I feel like Josie Geller, played by Drew Barrymore in Never Been Kissed. If I show up in clogs and butterfly clips in my hair is that still cool?
But speaking of cool, I don't even think college kids think they're cool. They all wear college shirts and jeans and chucks, boots and leggings, or workout clothes. I bet they don't even work out.
Until now, I had never attended classes on campus. I had only previously taken online courses. On my first day, the nervousness I had was very similar to the nervousness I would have when starting a new school as a child. I knew I didn't know anybody, didn't have any friends, and that is always such a tough situation to be in. I thought that being older, I would not concern myself with the opinions of my peers or even try very hard to blend in (my previous coping strategies).
I was wrong. So wrong.
In the adult world, I am completely comfortable being a person that feels confident in her own style choices and expressions of character. But put back inside of a school setting, that completely went away and I felt like such an outsider. I worried that the students would know I was older or somehow uncool and nobody would think I was worthy of getting to know. Like maybe because I am a mom I don't need friends so why bother. How awful and eye opening is that?
The other students are polite, but most don't make eye contact. Maybe that's not just me, maybe we as a society don't do that anymore. By now, our third week of class, they know that I am older, but not how much older. I'm 30, guys. I graduated high school 12 years ago. Back in 2004, when you were just in Kindergarten. That's right.
I don't even know what's cool anymore. I feel like Josie Geller, played by Drew Barrymore in Never Been Kissed. If I show up in clogs and butterfly clips in my hair is that still cool?
But speaking of cool, I don't even think college kids think they're cool. They all wear college shirts and jeans and chucks, boots and leggings, or workout clothes. I bet they don't even work out.
Wednesday, January 20, 2016
She's gone.
Sometimes I think about it. Really think about it. Right here. Right now. My mother is dead. The thought sucks the air out of my lungs. It chokes in my throat. She's gone.
I can't call her. She doesn't answer when I do. When I call her, I have a nervousness in my stomach. What if she answered? What if somebody else answered? What if the phone company gave her number to someone else. They could take it away from me- they could give her number to a stranger who would have no idea what that number was to me. A hotline to heaven.
God, mama, please answer the phone.
I ride past her apartment. Her car is not there. It's in my front yard with a FOR SALE sign in the windshield. Someone else is parked in her spot. Another family occupies the place that holds the last memories I have of my mother. Saturday visits, new recipes we cooked together, a place for my children to spend the night. The last walk through I did of her apartment before we packed all of her things in a U-Haul. Everything just as she had left it. Except it wasn't. It was cold.
Now when I go visit my mama I sit on the ground- uneven because the grass hasn't grown back yet. I lean my head on her stone engraved with lyrics from her favorite hymn. Beulah Land. She's in her Beulah Land. She's left me behind.
I don't visit her grave as much as I like. It is cold and empty there. I don't feel her there. I feel her on my first day back to college, holding my hand as I walk to my first class. Telling me to breathe deep, it's ok, I can do this. I hear her in my children's laughter and smell her from time to time. She wore the same perfume for years. I smell it and it stops me in my tracks.
I smell her and she's here again.
I can't call her. She doesn't answer when I do. When I call her, I have a nervousness in my stomach. What if she answered? What if somebody else answered? What if the phone company gave her number to someone else. They could take it away from me- they could give her number to a stranger who would have no idea what that number was to me. A hotline to heaven.
God, mama, please answer the phone.
I ride past her apartment. Her car is not there. It's in my front yard with a FOR SALE sign in the windshield. Someone else is parked in her spot. Another family occupies the place that holds the last memories I have of my mother. Saturday visits, new recipes we cooked together, a place for my children to spend the night. The last walk through I did of her apartment before we packed all of her things in a U-Haul. Everything just as she had left it. Except it wasn't. It was cold.
Now when I go visit my mama I sit on the ground- uneven because the grass hasn't grown back yet. I lean my head on her stone engraved with lyrics from her favorite hymn. Beulah Land. She's in her Beulah Land. She's left me behind.
I don't visit her grave as much as I like. It is cold and empty there. I don't feel her there. I feel her on my first day back to college, holding my hand as I walk to my first class. Telling me to breathe deep, it's ok, I can do this. I hear her in my children's laughter and smell her from time to time. She wore the same perfume for years. I smell it and it stops me in my tracks.
I smell her and she's here again.
Saturday, January 2, 2016
Where We Are
Does anybody even use blogger anymore?
Life has changed so much since my last post here. It has changed in so many good and bad ways but it has all been such an experience to learn and grow from.
My mother died late February 2015. A lot of me died with her that day.
It was the most awful thing, to see her in her final 6 days in a coma. She had an accident. No one found her in time. I have a lot of regret about that.
Our last phone conversation was on a Monday. She told me about her doctors appointment. We laughed. She told me she loved me and I told her I loved her too. I didn't know that was the last time.
Grief has such a funny way of manifesting in each person differently. This is still a learning experience for me.
The boys took it better than I thought. They were sad. They were quiet.
In the nearly 10 months since then, we have purchased a new home. It is absolutely wonderful. We went from living in a tiny 800 sq ft home with 6 family members, to a 3200 sq ft home (if you count the sun room and, yes, I do). We are not in city limits anymore and we are loving living in the outskirts of town. It's quiet out here. It's beautiful.
I go back to college in a week. I am taking on campus classes this semester. At the moment, I am not nervous or anxious or anything. I dread the work load. I took online classes last year before my mother passed and it was difficult for me to balance homeschooling, college and housekeeping.
I still try to find time for making. Making is what feeds my soul.
Life has changed so much since my last post here. It has changed in so many good and bad ways but it has all been such an experience to learn and grow from.
My mother died late February 2015. A lot of me died with her that day.
It was the most awful thing, to see her in her final 6 days in a coma. She had an accident. No one found her in time. I have a lot of regret about that.
Our last phone conversation was on a Monday. She told me about her doctors appointment. We laughed. She told me she loved me and I told her I loved her too. I didn't know that was the last time.
Grief has such a funny way of manifesting in each person differently. This is still a learning experience for me.
The boys took it better than I thought. They were sad. They were quiet.
In the nearly 10 months since then, we have purchased a new home. It is absolutely wonderful. We went from living in a tiny 800 sq ft home with 6 family members, to a 3200 sq ft home (if you count the sun room and, yes, I do). We are not in city limits anymore and we are loving living in the outskirts of town. It's quiet out here. It's beautiful.
I go back to college in a week. I am taking on campus classes this semester. At the moment, I am not nervous or anxious or anything. I dread the work load. I took online classes last year before my mother passed and it was difficult for me to balance homeschooling, college and housekeeping.
I still try to find time for making. Making is what feeds my soul.
This is the last photo we took together in November of 2014
This is the latest photo of my family.
Wesley turns 3 January 6th.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
This morning I woke up an hour before Wesley did. I got some coffee, sat down at the computer and enjoyed it. Then I swept and mopped all three hardwood floors in my house and sorted a load of laundry. When Wesley awoke we played and cooed and his brothers joined in on the fun. We went outside. He took his medicine and then we nursed and he drifted off to sleep for his morning nap. I placed him in his swing and unloaded/loaded the dishwasher. Fed the boys breakfast, surfed the web, did some more laundry. Wesley slept about an hour and a half, we got up nursed and played and an hour later he is napping again.
Sounds like I have my life sorted. Everything under control.
But this my friends, is what I might post on Facebook. The things we choose to expose to our friends and families. The pretty picture. The good days. The supermom moments.
I know good and well this is just a good day. Tomorrow will be different.
I am deep in the clenching grip of post partum depression. This feels heavy. Like something I'll never dig my way out of. Ever so often I have heard me mutter to myself about how I should've gone to college... should've had something going for myself except this. Don't get me wrong, I love my kids, would die for them. But they've taken me away from myself. It's not their fault. They need me. I need me.
Most days there is yelling. Occasionally from me. Mostly it's the boys fighting with each other. Wesley's routines are so cray and vary day to day. He doesn't sleep in the boba wrap anymore. He sleeps in his swing or on me. Which sometimes ties me down to where I can't tend to the older boys. I need a clone of myself. That way I could leave the house with the kids in it and everything wouldn't fall apart.
I need a break. An outlet. I.am.burnt.out.
*hanging my head in shame. Let my white flag fly. I surrender!!!!!!!
Sounds like I have my life sorted. Everything under control.
But this my friends, is what I might post on Facebook. The things we choose to expose to our friends and families. The pretty picture. The good days. The supermom moments.
I know good and well this is just a good day. Tomorrow will be different.
I am deep in the clenching grip of post partum depression. This feels heavy. Like something I'll never dig my way out of. Ever so often I have heard me mutter to myself about how I should've gone to college... should've had something going for myself except this. Don't get me wrong, I love my kids, would die for them. But they've taken me away from myself. It's not their fault. They need me. I need me.
Most days there is yelling. Occasionally from me. Mostly it's the boys fighting with each other. Wesley's routines are so cray and vary day to day. He doesn't sleep in the boba wrap anymore. He sleeps in his swing or on me. Which sometimes ties me down to where I can't tend to the older boys. I need a clone of myself. That way I could leave the house with the kids in it and everything wouldn't fall apart.
I need a break. An outlet. I.am.burnt.out.
*hanging my head in shame. Let my white flag fly. I surrender!!!!!!!
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
One good thing about music...
I love Reggae music. Good reggae, like, anything from anybody with the last name Marley (Bob, Ziggy, Stephen) and anything that sings the true spirit of reggae and perhaps some ganga references and speak of political unrest that was Kingston in the 70's can be thrown in, that's cool. I'm not into newer reggae, where they only sing about marijuana use and guns. No thanks.
Hayden likes my reggae too. We dance in the house, keeping beat with the music. He likes Pink and Lady Gaga as well. I'm glad he's free to like what he likes without peer influence. He has time to develop into the person he wants to be and I love that.
Music has become my best friend. I listen to it all day. Home alone with 4 kids all day is lonely sometimes. One good thing about music, when it hits you feel no pain.
Time. I've grown to hate clocks because I am constantly watching them. I check it first thing in the morning when I wake up, because 2 hours after that I have to give Wesley his medicine and then half an hour after that he can eat. Then while he is napping, we do school... then oh wait it's time for lunch. Then Wes is awake it's time for him to nurse, and then every 2 hours after that, every 30 minutes we put Jude on the pot... 3 days now in underwear and only pullups at night. Doing very well. What would my life be like without the clock to rule it? What did people do before there were clocks? I guess they just fed on demand and trusted their bodies and their children to lead the way.
"oh Jah. The cre-a-tah" oh wait- I don't worship Jah. But the sound of my voice in my thoughts is totally Jamaican right now.
Peace and love and Reggae music.
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