To Thine Own Self Be True

“Waiting around for someone else to make you happy is the best way to be sad.”

I found this quote online and it did not have a source but it was too good to not use.  

In my case, I am not waiting for someone else to make me happy - I am waiting around to realize that I am happy and that is enough.

I am always shopping. In stores and online. Looking for that next big sale or bargain or item that I must have. Once I have it, instead of being happy with my find, I am on to the next thing. I have always been like that.

Lately, I have been on the hunt for my next career move. Mind you, I left my last job to concentrate on my family and myself and I have been doing a pretty good job with that. So why not delete the app from my phone that looks for jobs and get it out of my head that I need to work? I can get more freelance clients. I can write till my fingers have lost all feeling. I do not need to go into an office right now. My job is to be at home. And trust me - there is plenty of work to do here!

That being said, I just got off the phone from a pretty great interview. They want me five days a week. I may have talked them into three. The problem? I DO NOT WANT THAT! Why am I doing this to myself? 

Why can't I get it through my head that it is ok for me to stay home? Miranda needs me. Gary likes all that I am getting done and it is taking a lot of pressure off of him. I am the one making these random rules for myself and all it is doing it causing unnecessary chaos.

Miranda will be in kindergarten before I know it. My time with her is so limited. Why do I feel ashamed to stay home and enjoy it? Is it because it took us so long to get here that I still can't believe I am a mom? I am not sure.

Mother's Day was so lovely. I got showered with gifts and love and felt so special. You know what, though? It was not that different of a day than any other day. Here we try to make every day special. And it's up to each of us to find the happiness inside that makes each day great, too.

I am all over the place. My thoughts are a mile a minute. I need to take a step back. I need to remember to breathe. I need to live more in the moment. I need to pay attention to what I am and who I am and what I am doing to myself.

I am trying. This blog is helping. One day at a time. One morning at a time. One afternoon at a time. I want to be happy. I deserve to be happy. Why does everyone know that but me?

Mother's Day Weekend

MY Day

Mother's Day is around the corner. It will be nice to celebrate my mom and all that she is to us. It will also be nice to celebrate ME, because what is not to love about that?

I have a hard time accepting that Sunday is my day. I feel like every day that I get to be a mom is Mother's Day. However, it's nice to slow down and rejoice.

I love being a mom. So much more than I ever thought I would. Yet having a day to honor that seems strange to me. I am not sure why. 

Being a mom is exhilarating and fun and challenging. It's also dirty and gross and exhausting. 

Lately I have been struggling with the idea that I deserve happiness. I know it my heart I do, but I have been behaving as if I do not. Then I put my mom hat on and think about what I want for my daughter and that helps me decide what I want for myself. Being a mom has taken me outside of myself in more ways than I can describe.

Do I want my child to beat herself up if she eats poorly one day? Of course not! Do I want Miranda to subconsciously put herself down and think negative thoughts about her body? Absolutely not! So why, then, do I allow myself to think and act in a way that I would not want for her?

I am teaching my daughter to think for herself. To form her own opinions. To stand up for what she believes in. We set boundaries and steer her in certain ways, but the joy of parenting to me is watching her true self emerge.

What about my true self? I spend so much time in my head, worrying about things that are out of my control and beating myself up for this, that, or the other thing. Well, if I do not want that for Miranda, then I better start wanting better for myself.

"Millions of people across the globe take the day as an opportunity to honor their mothers, thank them for their efforts in giving them life, raising them and being their constant support and well wisher." 

So here's to Mother's Day. Here's to all the moms. The ones that struggle with who they are and who they want to be. The ones who have it all figured out and could teach a class. And to all the ones in-between! Enjoy your day.

Unveiling

"Within the first year after the passing of a loved one, mourners and their family gather at the grave site for a ceremony called the unveiling, the placing of the tombstone. At this event, a grave marker is put into place and the monument is formally dedicated. There are a variety of specific customs that revolve around the grave site to honor the person who is now deceased. During this ceremony, it is not necessary for rabbis to be involved. It is a spiritual time for the family to comfort each other and remember their loved one" (www.shiva.com)

Tomorrow is my dad's unveiling. We are well over the one year mark (going on two plus) but hey, we are doing the best we can. It will be my brothers, my mom and me. 

I had such a stormy past with my father and this last piece of putting him to rest feels good to me. It feels right to formally honor him one last time. As Miranda gets older, I will bring her to "visit" and tell her stories about my dad.

The problem is, I want to share words of wisdom. I want to pass on family traditions. My brothers both have insight and advice from him that they hold dear. 

This is what I have:

College: You either need to find a man who likes chubby women or lose weight. It's that simple.
Post-College: Date lots of men at the same time. That way you are never alone and you always have options.

There are more, but I think you get the point.

My dad loved me very much. I was his first baby. I was his only daughter. I was, in many ways, a mirror image of him. The problem was, he did not know what to do with me.

He showered me with Swatches and Benetton and Outback Red. He got my ears pierced way before my mom was ready for that step (and very much behind her back). He talked to me like a "grown up" and in turn, scared the living crap out of me when I was just a kid.

He left our family to make a better life for himself. That resulted in a better life for us. So I can't argue with that.

He created custody issues that did not need to be and I can argue with that.

He was not the most honest or the most truthful and I can find fault with that, too.

But you know what? For the most part, he really lived his life. He seized the day out of every opportunity. He did not care what others thought of him - as long as they thought he was larger than life, rich, generous and fun. And in many ways, he was.

I am who I am because of who he was and who he was not. For the most part, I like the person that I have become. So thank you, Dad. Thank you for your flaws and your mistakes and your missed opportunities. Thank you also for loving me the best that you could. I can't argue with that.

The Story

"All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to..."

-Brandi Carlile

I have probably used this quote before. It is one of my favorite songs by one of my favorite artists. I urge you to look it up if you do not know it.

So why write about it? Well, I have a story to tell.

About a month ago, I started seeing a therapist. I felt stuck in my day to day life and that started to turn into anxiety and frustration. So I decided to ask for help.

I have been pleased with my progress so far. I have identified some "triggers" for me that cause me to behave in a certain way and I have learned to be more introspective. I am a work-in-progress and have to realize to be patient with myself. What I am now is 42 years in the making and it can't be undone or "fixed" in a few hours a month. 

I had a session this morning. About half-way through, we started talking about depression and how worried I am about how depression may impact me since it runs in my family. I talked about my father's sister and how she committed suicide when I was in high school. I talked about some of my own insecurities and fears. I talked about my relationship with my father and how that shaped me.

My therapist had no idea my dad was gay. She did now know there was a huge custody battle when I was a teenager. She did not know my dad once owned his own company. She did not know anything about him aside from the fact that he was gone.

This was MIND BLOWING to me. In the past, my dad's story - who he was to me, how he was not really there for me, how he played my brothers and I against each other - was always MY story. His highs and lows were often my highs and lows. His existence defined mine.

But that was then. And this is now. In the now, my dad is a footnote. A part of my past that is worth revisiting and exploring, but not a main chapter. I am my own chapter now.

I do not know when he stopped being a main character. It was long before he died. Was it when I finally let myself be the center of my story? I do not know. 

There was a lot of good about my dad. There was also a lot of not so good. Identifying all of those aspects will help me tell the story of who I am and who I want to be.

The older I get, the more I experience, the bigger my story gets. 

Thanks for sticking around and continuing to read it!

The Past is my Present

5 years ago today, I was sitting at work. I had no idea that in a few short days, my life would come crashing down around me.

5 years ago, I was checking baby registries and buying baby clothes and thinking about my new niece who was just born and imagining that they were going to be the best of friends.

5 years ago, I was naive and innocent and probably even smug. At almost 37 weeks pregnant, I thought the hard part was behind me. All the appointments and tests and monitoring and anxiety would all be over and once I survived labor, I would have the most precious gift in the universe to call mine.

April 19, 2011. I felt her kick. I dreamed of her face.
April 19, 2016. I still miss her kicks. I still dream of her face.

How do you miss someone you never really knew? Ah, well, I did know her, right? I knew that little girl of porcelain skin and curly dark hair. I knew her as she knew me - from the inside out. And although I only held her in my arms after her life had ended, that does not mean I did not get to know her.

Allison. My Allie. How has it been almost 5 years? Her birthday is Friday. Earth Day. Seems fitting.

She was the only baby I conceived. She was the only baby that ever grew inside my body. We shared flesh and blood and so much more. She was the only being who knows what my heart sounds like from the inside.

She made me a mom. She made me realize that I needed to keep on being a mom and pushed us to become parents again. 

This week is hard. My arms ache for her even more than usual.

No one should have to bury a child. That is a grief unlike any other.

I try to leave the past in the past and live in the present. This week, the past is my present. It just is.

I love you, sweet butterfly. For as long as I am alive, so to are you.

Happy almost birthday.

Image drawn by portraitsbydana.com

Hey, No Pressure

"I hate to see you breaking down (hey, no pressure)
I hate to watch you fall apart (hey, no pressure)
I want to help you through it all (hey, no pressure, hey, no pressure)
I want to lift you when you fall (hey, no pressure, hey, no pressure)"

-Ray LaMontagne

I have been a Ray LaMontage fan for ages. My brother, sister-in-law and I have seen him in concert many times. "You Are The Best Thing" was one of our wedding songs. So it's fair to say I like his music a lot.

Last night I downloaded his new album and this morning I listened to it at the gym. He is a bluesy, folksy kind of singer and not usually gym soundtrack material, but I just did not want to wait!

Song 2 - Hey, No Pressure. I was like...,"Ray? Are you singing directly to me?"

I have been under so much pressure of late and felt that I could directly relate to this song. I think that is why I like music so much. It often speaks to me directly.

When I left my job last month, much of that pressure was relieved. When I started really exercising again and taking care of myself, more of that pressure was relieved. In a few short weeks, I feel like I am coming back to myself and that is a great feeling. The pressure is less and less.

I get so caught up in myself when I am feeling bad that I tend to forget how to feel good.

I am back in control of my life and it feels good. It's so easy to get lost along the way.

Miranda and I were playing yesterday and out of the blue, she asked me if Zoe was all better and could come back home now. I explained (for the umpteenth time) that Zoe was in kitty cat heaven and wasn't coming back. She looked defiant and sad. She said she wanted her back.

That conversation broke my heart. 

Over the weekend, Miranda pulled a butterfly magnet off the fridge and brought it over to me and said it was "Allie the butterfly". 

That exchange warmed my heart.

Miranda is going to be introduced (and already is introduced!) to a lot of concepts in life earlier than I would prefer. In order for me to really be there for her and be the sounding board and support that I want to be, I need to take the pressure off myself and really take care of myself. Luckily, I am well on my way.

Back To Good

In 16 days, Allie will be 5. 

I have not bought her a single gift. I have not sent out invitations to a party. I have not registered her for kindergarten. I have not signed her for swim lessons this summer.

And I never will.

Allie is never far from my mind. The truth is, though, most days I can think about her and be happy - or sad - and go about my day. I have her sister to take care of, after all.

Something happened to me this year. I am not sure when. December? January? It's been a while now and I have been just ignoring it. The guilt I feel over her not being here has come back. The anger, the depression, the anxiety - check, check, check. I felt low and did not even know that I was acting low, too. I have been tired, lethargic and just generally down. Not all days, mind you, but many.

So I decided to get help. I did not get this far in my life to let myself get that low for that long. I sought out a therapist. One who deals with eating disorders. I then went to see a nutritionist. One who is helping me learn to not "diet" but to eat healthy and take care of myself and make smart choices with my food. In other words, make the kind of choices for me that I make for Miranda.

I have always turned to food in times of, well, anything. If you can relate to that, then I hope this blog helps you realize you are not alone. If you can't, then I hope you realize that all people handle their battles and demons in different ways.

I feel like I am blaming Allie's 5th birthday on my downward spiral. But to be a real adult about it, the only person I can really blame is me. I have to re-learn how to deal with my grief and sadness without binging. I need to "fill the emptiness" in other ways.

So I am sharing my story. Again. When I make my journey public, I feel like I am letting it go. Then I can focus on me.

We joined the YMCA this week. I have already exercised there twice. It feels good to take care of me again. I got some freelance work to do this week. It will be good to get into that groove again, too. Then I will focus on more workouts and more clients.

We decided on a family picnic on Allie's birthday. Gary is taking the day off and we are going to back a basket (of healthy foods!) and go sit by Allie's tree and eat lunch and remember her. Miranda can play on the playground near by and Gary and I can use the swings. We will bring her a little cake and sing to her and celebrate her as best as we can. 

As for the rest of the days? Well, we will take care of ourselves to make sure we are always here to remember her. That's the least we can do.