Why is there this great pressure in parentville to only saint the joys of perfection and if you as a mom do say or ask a question about anything it’s almost grotestect to speak like that. Well I’ve have just about enough of that. Here’s how I feel.
I feel absolutely totally under the microscope, in the cross arrows, it’s mom always moms short comings. Like when in the bloody hell did this ritual begin? I’m over here growing black begs under my eyes similar to how tree fungus ripples over itself. I’m gonna go way out on a limb and shout it.. being a mother is seriously ducking intense!!! Hard!! I barely make decisions for myself and here I am raising two awesome people hoping I’m doing at least 40 percent allright, maybe?! Here I go selfish mom about to say something more than the obvious awesome amazing things children bring to the table.
Here I go… shame on me.
My daughter has been diagnosed with a genetic disorder called elhers-Danlos syndrome type 1. This is a chromosome syndrome and is greatly affecting her ability to walk and so much more. Her case is very rare and we are forming a great team of paediatricians family doctors and physiotherapy programs just for her. We don’t know how she will walk, how well and with what needed to help her, Cain, walker.. all these almost sick feelings come from my heart. My perfect happy two year old daughter is on her bum looking up at me. She’s crying in my arms pointing to go play with the others, she can’t. If she got bumped into her arms might dislocate. He’s so fragile. This syndrome affects all collagen be our ligaments and connective tissue that hold our limbs and parts in place within the joint for my baby girl her ligaments have no limits or elasticity she’s floating in her joints. Her life will always be physio weekly as she needs to use her muscles to hold her up where the tissues we is can’t. We have friction blisters on her bottom, leg cramps that leave her locked stiff in discomfort. I know this is not temporary, this will be her life struggle. I hate this. Fuck I hate this!!!!!
Aghhhhhhj!! She don’t deserve a life of pain. I’m learning how to be her physical coach that she will need everyday. Alee’s first precious steps is going to be a lot of work but by golly I’m there every little goal. I’m here baby girl. I’m so proud of her and her beautiful girly face. She’s so much more than I could have imagined.
My son, my bright warm loving burst of energy, my little man who makes everyone around him see things differently and changes us all by feeling so intensely for others seeking a good conclusion is his need. I holy old judge meter moment.. I stayed home with my son for 5 years, no babysitters, daycare programs, no family near just us. Another knot on the meter I im a co sleeping, do everything for my children mom. It’s ridiculous how I have to be there. I’m going to be the mother in pjs chasing them down in me flannels.. I can’t be that mom. My son has a extremely high amount of energy, unreal really. He goes at 300rpms all day. Never rude, grouchy or hard to be around just cannot sit still. It’s exhausting! Sorry but I’m so incredibly exhausted of cha singing this cute little Hellian around literally pulling him off ceilings. Phew!!! I’ve lugged his wild butt away from parties he just can’t focus and then here comes the big snapper… he’s bad. Ya that the looks, the opinionated glares. Well they are pretty yucky ladies. I mean you wanna try it please honestly help. My son can’t seem to learn no or not safe. This has been a big problem since day one, I know how judge my friends became over my need to be with him, no option. Well I would have loved someone to ask me why? Well it’s because I’ve known in my bones that my son is not safe. He’s not safe and the great lengths we go to in order to go anywhere is a we are learning now things other parents don’t do. My son is the kid who locked the food Ioff the table cause he couldn’t see it. He emptied eggnog onto the floor at a party, runs out doors, talks to strangers you name it the amount of worries we carry in high anxiety is keeping a hand on him, literally I hold his shirt.
I so did not need the dumpy diaper people who’s parental advice is no more than critics, oh my ducking Christ I here one more suggestion on how to fix my son I might go hungry zombie and chew that ignorant toy he off. My sons the bad kid label. So unfair. Everyone seems to be overwhelmed and as he says why does everyone feel mad at me. Mad at him, how sad. And it’s true even u find some days I’m mad. Overwhelmed, then mad of how many times I have to do and repeat myself. My patients is short. I know he could not be out of our sight safely so I felt no other option than staying home with him. Well happy to say my raw of sunshine was ready we felt to start a wee flap of his wings and start half day kindergarten. Boys he’s shaken the concrete out the old red bricks let me tell ya. I did not realize myself just how hands on and busy he really is until I saw his teachers sweating bugged eyes looking at me like is this all the time?
So those who gave some pretty bad suggestions like spankings and long lectures on how I was wish washy and unable to control my kid… you made me feel awful weak and alone cause the thought of hurting this amazingly innocent happy boy would be so wrong. Maybe just offer a kind of I feel you mom, it’s a nice connecting moment of ya were in this together. Fist bump!!
We know that our son has hyperactivity and I mean full throttle all the time that’s ok until now. As a parent I’m terrified. The teachers are having is and them together have psychological testing.. first thought I’m fucking up. As the meeting goes along we started to listen rather than shot down any ideas, how’s than gonna be the best for him. Listening I’m not there yet as this is happening. We are all feeling it but dare not whisper is word, Autism. Autism. Oh my god…..
We feel and will all confirm of course before even saying anything to anyone. Asbergers is how it’s leaning. He’s way too smart, quirks, energy, unable to learn no and have no sense of danger. Irregulation of himself, repetition the rituals and massive emotional reactions when not completed his task. Once again I’m feeling like a douche bag mother talking about them and their future needs. It’s not his fault!!! He really don’t deserve people to always be annoyed with him. He is so emotionally sensitive can feel a birds hungry, bunnys lonely it’s his big gentle heart and I will not beat his beauty out. He’s the greatest, funniest most vibrant human most have seen.
I’m so flippin proud of that boy, my fave is in constant smile just thinking of him. My daughters love for me, that look in her eyes of how I’m so much to her in such a different way, each of these cool humans know even when I’m frustrated, sad, struggling or gone away for a bit none.. none of the big feeling are because of you. My perfect best of me creations your my reason for everyday
Love these shits
I’m just not so certain I’m the mother for this job as I’m not able to do so much.
I have this amazing human in my life, a real friendship from the most unique of scenarios. We moved to a suburb outside of the big city 4 years ago now so we could gain more space with a baby our super cute downtown bachelor apartment was busting full. That amazing apartment had no rooms just a open concept and I loved it! Right in the core of the city, tram train outside my door, we never stopped going out and about it’s was outbreak from responsibility that we had too much of too young. We found this old old I mean Vikings old cottage near the lake, about a ten minute walk. The old shack has only wood heat, plywood cupboards made on 1935 little water ripple effect above the sink, so classic. The cottage nearly froze us the first winter like living in a basket with pet rats and all, ya. We declared bankruptcy and had the bail bonds man reposes our nice royal blue 300. We needed a place to call home and renting a house in the city doubles so suburbs we went. We certainly knew poverty at that very humbling time. Sad at first but this old shack has the greatest memories within its old newspaper packed walls.
A few weeks after moving in a little old man in a super tiny old trailer parked his home at the front of the property. We heard many tales of this super sweet kind old man who was returning to his home soon. Handy Andy was his name he runes that by 30 years here shovelling, painting, lugging bricks and clearing job sites all across the city. He came up the driveway with his distinct sideways twitchy walk, hump on his back this tiny man. Hand out hello and such a warm weathered face. Beyond the burnt dried out scared skin these blue eyes that almost glow like little flashlights hidden by his squint. Instantly friends. A bit weary of a man living in a trailer, no electricity, water, toilet just a tin roof over his mattress. The proudest he was of his home, something never good enough for anyone else was his palace. As we know know Andy was a severe alcoholic that had him living on the streets or a shelter on a good night. Usually he woke up in the drunk tank. 8 years ago after another near death overdose Andy sought help at the shelters missionary church. For him he found worth, gave up the bottle and decided to try a new way to walk. Shorty after he saved up enough cash from his labours to by a rusted out broken trailer. He worked cleaning up a job site near by so they knew him, his story and let him park his new and first home on the lot. A friendship that came is way more than I could imagine.
Every day I saw his wrinkled happy face coming and going, working in my garden this became normal. We began to chat and before long that little beat up old man was my friend. By friend I mean the most honest, open unfiltered friendship I’ve had. Now 4 years later Andy is family nothing less. He’s done so very much for me by just being kind and incredibly thoughtful. I love him. If a few days go by without talking I’m calling him to make sure he’s ok. His sobriety is nothing more than amazing strength. Later on we discovered he was actually freezing up there, snow covered wind blowing in Snow crystals sleeping under a pile of blankets nearly a dozen. In 30 below storms he’d ride his bike I. The wind and rain to work sleeping frozen all night then off to work. He’s completely independent but now we are so close.
I have so so many handy Andy stories to share.
My bestest truest friend
For my third year i was asked to step up & use my story to raise awareness. My hospital CAMH is amazing.
So change the world one story at a time
I live a very open life. I came forward 3 years ago now and let people see all of me. Im not shamed of my biggest secret anymore, it’s an amazing feeling just saying fuck it! Im worth it. Im overwhelmed at times by how many people I now have honest open real friendships with, living from afar took a few steps forward it empowering to not be your own victim. Even though I keep my journey & recovery open I still keep a few of my struggles silent only because I’m learning too and new symptoms come old ones visit it’s just my cross to bare. I live in constant fear. Im scared all the time. I am really having a hard time going out into the world. Im scared in a white misty cloud every time I go out. I feel volnerable out there, it’s just scary. The light hurts my eyes, the noises around me clatter I can’t focus on a dot to maintain balance. I feel people. I feel a bad person in a mall full of people I will see you. My eyes are scanning every single detail, I’m photographing with my mind… snap, snap snap. With all these sensitivities going on trying to complete simple tasks like groceries has become something I just can’t do right now. My husband does all the outings and online ordering has been enabling for me and if I do choose to go and force myself to be around others I’m so scared I feel weak. This is hard! It’s obvious I’m off and meeting new people!!! I don’t trust or do this easily but now and then a friend pops out of the clatter. That’s amazing.
im such a social person yet lately I’m feeling lost and alone.
All this started 6 years ago when I got pregnant and had to have so many apts weekly as I was really high risk. This protected need to keep that baby safe was so raw and it didn’t feel safe in the world. It’s not. As I lost independence at that time I slowly put on my shackles of irrational phobias. I can control my anxiety and paranoia so much better in my home. It’s safe. Until you felt volnerability you don’t understand that fear. Awful feeling. Deep in your gut, everything is a possible worst case scenario. Irational! I know it yet I’m scared. Mind over matter at times fades. Then grows the phobia.
After my son my symptoms increased as my physical health declined I lost more and more of independence a little at a time. I stopped driving my medications are too risky as I have paused and delays. I loved to drive, I miss that independence. Then i realized I’ll not be able to financially contribute the surgeries, the apts, the symptoms the pregnancies of uncertain life, the medications the ups the downs the hormones the independence just got lost. Now I feel a bit trapped. Going to pick up my son at school was a worry an scary anticipation of going out and seeing people ate at me all day. I can’t sleep the nights before having to go somewhere. Just fret myself sick over it.
I feeling at this time my phobias of civilatijn around me and all it’s disgusting humans that walk amongst us have became too big to control on my own. I have decided with my psychiatrist to start into more intense therapy before the fear becomes another box.
No one seems to accept that I just can’t. I can’t.
i can barely understand this myself. I want to more than anything to be in the world but it’s just not easy.
Forever from afar.
I often have dreams. I dream so clearly that I can feel touch and smell things I see in my sleep. Some nights I’m picking corn in a endless waving field of fall corn while the sun goes down glowing that neon pink wearing nothing and feeling so lost in the wind hair twirling that sweet grassy smell all warm and peaceful. Other nights I’m locked in a red wooden crate watching someone through a crack in the box prepare a tank of embalming fluid a dark rubber apron stained in layers of bloody souls. I watch with that heightened awareness, the smell of feomeldehyde stinking my eyes, heart racing my eyes warm in tears. I can’t see his face no matter how many times I see him prepare my table for a live preservation ritual I can’t see his face. As he turns towards the box his shadow steals the wee crack of light that smell of beer like a avalanche covers me, Awake!
I wake most days hungover from the medications I have to take several kinds a day around the clock morning to bedtime of anti- psychotics that keep the visions and voices calm. I can sleep for 12 hours and wake exhausted from living in my dreams. Last night I was with a dear friend in a room filled to the ceiling with knives. We stood side by side chatting packing boxes and boxes of knives happily. It was very soothing the act of constant repatition. This might seem out there but I saw my babies faces, blurry yet recognizable only weeks into my pregnancies, cool! I wish at times I could just be labotimized and live in numb ignorant bliss. Just silence between my ears removing the forever hum of white static noise, don’t listen..
Don’t listen or it will take the wheel.
I had the most simple of upbringings. Being raised by my grams in a hunting and fishing outfitters camp was a wonderful childhood. Every single good warm & fuzzy memory I have comes from the cookhouse, a non stop parade of hunters, guides, family, ski dooers stopping for a meal and brewskis & of course our river tourists who come from all over to join in on our Fiddlers on the tobique, a float down the river with bluegrass musicians in boats oh yes and our dog sledding g competitions we had every winter, ya it’s so simple as I said. Almost like growing up back in pioneer times. We cut our wood, split and piled it. We ran for ice from the brook that flows across our land. We hD little in the ways of worldly possessions yet that cookhouse was the warmest, friendliest place I’ve known. It’s so sad to know it’s no more, all rotting into the ground because no one in our family of outfitters wants to keep our home, sad. How could the business and traditions carry on when no one even talks. I’m not too sure what happened all I know is one day everyone just separated, moved away, stopped calling everyone just scattered. I’ll never know as we don’t talk about anything. Nothing. I have such beautiful memories and will hold those log camps in my heart as they return to the earth.
When I moved away to go to college I noticed right away that a lot of conformity behaviours I did not know. I did not realize how many things I did not know, like basic practises of being house trained really. I didn’t wash my hands, clean after myself, use a coaster all these tidy things. I got use to people laughing at my redneck ways, roughness & bad habits that just was. We didn’t vacuum, dust things, have rugs and nice linens. It was scratchy grey blankets and mis matched everything. Butter tubs and ice cream containers for Tupperware, using snow on the porch to store food during the winter. We had deer, yep real deer in a pen, a bear at one point, moose hanging from trees, deer bear our trees were hanging stands for the carcasses to drain blood and age. I know how to skin any animal I don’t even remember when it’s second nature. I got a skinning knife on my 6th birthday. Or a doll. The soil of our land and mountain is drenched in blood. I have a few baby pictures left that community members gave me after the fires. A few photos that prove I existed. I’m on dead moose, next to barrels of bear bait, holding sticks of fish and racks of partridge. I am a woods woman. I can track a rabbit but learning g to fold laundry, remove a stain or properly take care of a home, clueless when I first left. I’ll never forget the first Black person I saw, like a ignorant redneck I starred. We had one Chinese lAdy who ironically ran the Chinese restaurant. I was use to hearing racism as a normal dialect, not that my family or any simple country family are mean and hateful it’s truly in all definitions ignorance. I was scared of all these new things, timid and uncertain. I learned one friend at a time first hand re see the world as it was completely flat in my eyes.
I found myself watching and mimici g others. How their closets look, things are arranged and basic life skills. I didn’t even know to wipe myself from front to back, that realization makes me sad still. The invisible girl. I had no one teach me makeup, hair care, anything womanly all I knew was self hate. As if something was greatly wrong with being a girl. A shame. Weakness I wish I had a son instead feeling. Rough & tumble that’s it. When I had my son I had this overwhelming feeling of being completely lost. Just because I had become a mother by birth did not make me a mom in all things mommy. I’m still becoming civilized daily. Boys I’ve had to learn the hard way at times but I’ve come a long way.
I’m always going to be a girl from up river and this I’m so proud.
I just can’t seem to write.
My heart is sorting out a lot of things. My baby sister has contacted me. It’s been nearly 6 years since we’ve had a conversation. We attacked eachother with full hatred and absolute vile poisonous tounges that horrible curse our mother did leave us. The loathing we have and the things said are unforgivable yet I know that person the sister in me is mean, bully with a mission to destroy her. It feels good to know I won I. The game of who crys first. How sick is that feeling. The road to affection was paved in cruelty. I’m a nice human, I’m not perfect shit I’m a bag of mistakes all faults aside my heart I know is good. I’m quiet, smart, friendly and liked by many, not being a pompost ass like douche moment here I’m just being real. I’ve not intentionally hurt another but when it comes to my sister this evil person emerges. I’d never speak to anyone the way I’ve spoken to her. That’s the truth. It’s disgusting behaviour and I own that.
At Thanksgiving I had a mild blip with my brain I had gone manic and crashed hard. I’m ok where I have such a support system fortunately I’m inpatient living outpatient t and a phone call will activate every resource i need. Its wonderful! I hope in my lifetime everyone has that. I was going in and out of the psychiatric floor for medication adjustments and observation. It’s tricky changing my cocktail as I can go very very quickly into psychosis. It’s very comforting for me to know I’m ok, safe. During this episode we call it episodes as it just derails myrecovety not end it. Ok so I decided to take my struggling face forward in hopes my invisible disease could be seen, it’s very obvious if seen, all in our eyes, the dark rings of worry and fear. Took some big lady balls man, I’m not the cutest. By talking about the symptoms most common reaction to to be scared it’s the right response so many like me die by their band. I talk past that into the reality of living with my disease. Well my sister had been emotionally drawn to contact me via my husband. We’ve made very concrete.boundaries.
I’m fucking terrified!
I’m fucking terrified!!
I don’t know if I can grieve her again. My punishment for not continuing a relationship with my mother was for her to make my sister choose. Of course she chose the affection she deserved. Then it was my grandfather. He too is gone because I stood up for myself. Grampa called Christmas Day as well……
ya so a whole lot going on inside. It’s a tornado in my heart.
What happens if… if… I could fill a scribbler of possible scenarios leaving me. Leaving me all shook up again like a snow globe. I love how it feels when the snows on the roof tops. I love it!
I’m just feeling so exposed, gutted, torn.
Proceed with caution.
The lonely orphan
Is this a mistake?
I’ve been triggered.
I’ve been unable to write a single word for I’ve been built of sand and the winds of agony within blow, they blow and the huff and puff till my legs fold. I’ve been holding my pieces together by Will as the greatest days of my life are forever shadowed, by a darkness of realization. As I tuck my kids in all warm and cozy I remembered never being tucked in. Nothing I do remember crying out for a drink and the screams within the stairwell frightened me silent. I bake cookies for Santa I have blankness, I have not recollection of any of these things and when I do receive these flashbacks it humbles my strength still with anxiety attacks so bad we can barely control them anymore. It’s so scarey, so so scarey and lonely .
My awesome children had a absolutely marvellous Christmas, it was so simple, opened gifts all day not a big locus like blur of paper and free of quantity. A few toys, my father came surprising us all by dressing up as Santa Claus and dancing outside ringing bells. Not something that happens in a city too often without aressting someone. Seemy dads a awesome person who handled some heavy stuff very poorly. Can’t be to hard on the cranky loving old fool. Everything g was perfect. Yes I’m a mother above all and my illness no matter the severity I’m s good mother, odd yes but these kids read only a good life. As I’ve said many times I never hurt anyone but myself.
These are the daily things I survive, the thorns in my paw.
Well I know have myself convinced that I’m dying, a cold over the holidays has me convinced. I saw a red ring around d the moon, it made me feel fear of somethings going wrong. So logically of course I assumed I’m going to die. Absolute logic. I know it sounds ridiculous yet I check my jugular pulse, I swear and my heart skips beats. A pain in my chest has to be a massive coronary, right? Logic. I’m so convinced like a wee whisper of doubt always saying, it’s time. Ding death number up. Logic
I’m really having a difficult time with leaving the house. I had this happen before and I know better than to not push myself. I could happily never leave my safe happy home. It’s the truth. I love being alone, silent and alone. Obviously this trait I have is not the best yet I can talk myself inside with a million reasons why. I find large public groups like grocery stores, malls and so on causing me extreme censors overload. I hear everything, see everything, all conversations pulse into my head like a broken cb radio. I can’t focus, the lights make my vision blurry, as though my eyes can’t fixate on anything, it hurts, lights are awful. I make myself go out yet I’m really uncomfortable out there. Always looking over my shoulder. So even though I miss some friends and could use a adult conversation I’m lonely at times very much so but how can I say I love you and admire you and want to be around you but I’m scared I’ll get overwhelmed and make a scene of myself. I’m finding it more and more difficult daily to push myself outside. I’m safe here, no censory overloads, adrenaline of fear, no yucky feelings. See this happened when I was a young girl I would not go outside. One day I called in sick as my chest was going to explode, I went to the doctor. Massive anxiety attack he said. So I called in the next day, the next day and then I quit my job and I did not come out of that sad apartment on the hill behind the old furniture store. I was terrified, could not leave. This lasted nearly 6 months before I had to be sedated and taken to Fredericton where I was treated for social anxiety and phobias of everything and everyone out there. With Zoloft and daily talk therapies with a lovely old male psychiatrist was able to return home quickly. Oh and so so silently, definitely can’t let anyone know. Shameful really being a fucking freak.
Not long after I locked myself in the bathroom and cut myself till the skin had no feeling and each drag of the blade stains the tub red. Te landlord was called and the police called. They forcefully took down the doors and removed me. So lonely watching people out my window wishing I had friends, anyone. Lonely. Isolated, watching from afar.
I can recognize that I’m scared again, I know I can overcome it again yet I am so happy inside.