Hug Longer Than You Think You Need To

Doing dishes (by hand) this morning and my mind wandered to a time when I was growing up. I remember spending about a week out of every Christmas vacation as a child at my grandparents' house. Normal part of childhood, I suppose. Except I spent that time not with my mom's parents and not with my dad's parents. I spent that time with my birth father's parents. In most adoptions, that just doesn't happen. But my adoption was not a standard adoption.
I was born to a mother and father, like anyone else. But when my parents divorced while I was still an infant, my birth father didn't come around much. And when he did, he was usually drunk. He signed the paperwork when I was 3 to allow me to be adopted by the man that became my father. My new father is my dad, and he has been there for me since I was teeny tiny. I don't remember it all, obviously, but from what I have been told my dad was the one who helped my mom escape the alcoholic who abused her. Dad took all 3 of us kids in when mom was in trouble, in spite of not having any children of his own. He took on three kids before he ever fell in love with mom. Dad was and is a true father.
My birth father, as I said before, signed over his legal right to be my father when I was about 3 years old. My dad adopted my brothers and I, eagerly, after the three of us asked him to be our dad. Now the interesting thing about my birth father and dad is that they are first cousins, their mothers being sisters. So my adopted family tree and my biological family tree are indeed very, very similar. I am fortunate to know almost all of my family, both adopted and biological, because they are the same. I have always felt that I was lucky to have such a strong connection to them all. My Great Aunt (Dad's mom) is my Grandma and my Grandma (Birth father's mom) is my Great Aunt, but to me they have both always been Grandma.
Two weeks ago I lost my Grandma, my birth father's mom. She passed suddenly and unexpectedly. I still cry for her everyday. Some might say that I am being ridiculous, but I am not crying because I lost her, I am crying because I miss her. I believe that Heavenly Father took her because it was her time. But I still miss her. It's the little things that make me miss her, like doing dishes by hand, even though we have a dish washer...we use to do that at her house. I am fortunate to have so many amazing memories of her. I realize now that when my birth father decided he didn't care enough about being my father to even try, my grandma filled the hole in my heart tenfold. Not every kid in my grade school or high school class could say that they spent a week of every Christmas vacation with their grandparents. Or part of their summer...sometimes we went to stay in the summer too. I loved staying with Grandma and Grandpa and I still reflect on the memories made as a major part of my life.
To be fair, I should mention that we also spent a lot of time with my mom's parents too, on the ranch, and made some amazing memories there as well. The time spent with my grandparents as a child helped me become who I am and I am so grateful for all of it.
But this morning I thought of something else. I found myself remembering my mom sitting at the kitchen table with my grandma, birth father's mom, visiting. Perhaps it is the thought of the relationship there that makes me weep this morning. I can't imagine how difficult it must have been for my mom to lose her mother-in-law of only 7 years, but a friend of a lifetime.I wonder if my mother has had a chance to grieve, or if she stuffed it down inside.
Divorce complicates so much in a family and in each individual. My grandma never made any of us feel as if our family were ordinary or unordinary. She made us feel extraordinary. She accepted the way things were and made better than the best of it. In fact, I feel it's important to mention that I have a sister, born from my dad and my mom, who my Grandma, my birth father's mom, accepted as a granddaughter. My sister never stayed home when we went to Grandma's, she always came with and she called her Grandma too. She too has been mourning the loss of her Grandma.
Just five months ago we lost our other Grandma, mom's mom. That hurt too, a lot. I was so blessed to be able to be with her in those final minutes and to say goodbye. I was truly blessed to have been able to spend quite a bit of time with her in her last year of life as well.

Life is so short. What my grandmothers have taught me is that today is the day to call your loved ones, not tomorrow. Visit them now, not soon. And make sure you always hug longer than you think you need to.

The NEW Normal

My husband always tells me that one of the reasons he married me was because I was not normal...normal is boring. Yes, my husband thinks normal is boring. I suppose he is right, but I don't even know if we have any "normal" to base our opinions on. We have never really felt "normal" and have always been pretty abnormal.
When we first met we were both running from different things, different people, different situations. I had just spent my first year in college and had accomplished nothing except the "freshman list". You know, the freshman list: gain 20 pounds-check, get stoned for the first time-check, check, go on an alcohol binge that induces memory loss (wait, how many days have I been drunk?)-check, check, check, AND fail at least one college course-check, check, checkity check. So when a friend asked me to join her for a summer in Alaska, of course I said yes.
Josh was running away from his own reality. He had married young, his high school not-so-sweetheart, and started a marriage which allowed him to have 2 beautiful kids and a list of regrets that he too could put into a checklist, but let's not. So he found himself separated and working for a carnival (they provided a paycheck and a place to sleep).
I arrived in Anchorage in May, feeling anxious and excited for the journey ahead and I remember being confused...it was late at night, yet the sky was dusk, not black. The next morning we prepared to depart for Kenai and I met Josh for the first time. He was rude. My friend and I were being introduced to the rest of the crew, being polite, trying to remember names, and Josh was one of the names I remembered...because he was so rude. He just made it so clear that he had no interest in meeting anyone or talking to anyone, let alone becoming friends with anyone. Challenge accepted. I set out on my own little mission to get to know this guy who just seemed to be pissed at the world, who wouldn't even look me in the eyes when he spoke, and who didn't even stand in front of me long enough to hear my name. Of course, he tells this story somewhat differently. But this is my recount of the tale.
The next week was spent getting to know everyone, working long hours and having tons of fun doing it. I was in love with Alaska...the country, the people, the rain, the sun, the ocean. Head over heels in love. I was being pursued by another guy, nice guy but "friends" material. I was never good at letting a guy down easy. We moved on to Homer where we began the process of loading the carnival onto the ferry...I persuaded Josh to stay in my camper (with my two friends and I) rather than in a tent. The next day I knew I had my teeth into him. We boarded the ferry and headed to Kodiak. I was hiding from my male friend who wouldn't give up yet and Josh was also hiding from a female friend who wasn't ready to give up. We forged a rapid friendship, having spent several hours over the past week talking to one another...Josh just kept finding himself stuck in my company. He gave in, quickly, without putting up much of a fight.  We found ourselves running out of places to hide...so we went into the cargo hold. Oops, not supposed to go there. We hung out in the RV and talked until we fell asleep. The next morning we emerged late for breakfast, with the rest of the crew suspicious and grumpy, as we pulled into port.
So, you get the picture...summer romance began. When it was time for me to return to Nebraska for my brother's wedding, I had been struggling with a decision. Josh, although separated, still had to make some major decisions regarding his family. I did not want to alter his decisions in any way...I wasn't sure if I should go home to Nebraska and stay or come back after the wedding. I told Josh two days before I flew out that I was going to go home for two weeks and then return. I told him I would be finding a place to rent, for myself. I wanted him to return to his family, make his decisions, and I would be his friend. I loved him, but I didn't want to be a homewrecker.
He bought a plane ticket. Josh ended up with a plane ticket to come to Nebraska with me. I left. He flew out 3 days later. We never returned to Alaska that summer. We have never been back. We worked in the hayfield in Nebraska. We took a bus to Idaho to stay with his parents. We got pregnant. We had been discussing marriage and family, pending the finalization of his divorce, when I realized my period was late.
Once again, I tried to leave. I wanted to go home, to Nebraska. I wanted Josh to finalize his divorce and I did not want him to jump into a new marriage right away. I was so scared that he was going to marry me out of a sense of duty.
He rode the bus back to Nebraska with me, we got our first apartment together and settled into our lives. We weren't "normal", by any means. We had so many complications. Child support payments, a divorce that was taking forever, pregnancy complications...to name a few. Our daughter was born. We were married in front of a justice of the peace when she was 6 months old. We were so excited to elope that we didn't even remember to take pictures.
Life continued...it was about as "normal" as it would ever be. Marriage, family, work....we went through all the motions and were blissfully happy. We never thought anything was unusual until we looked back, ten years later and remembered little things. The waves of sadness, the moments of insanity, the crazy that we both hid as deep as possible. Eventually it would all emerge...
It did. And so far, it is still here. We have realized that it is much harder to pack all that crazy inside and hide it away when you have no more storage places left. We became so full of crazy that we had to let it out. Now we are learning to cope, to accept, and to love each other all over again.
We both exhibited a million telltale signs of some form of mental illness from the very beginning. Josh told lies to help himself hide from all his regrets. I buried my crazy with antidepressants, letting numb become  comfortable. But when I ran out of refills or made a decision to stop the meds, convinced I didn't need them, Josh would have to hold me together. He would take the brush out of my hand to stop me from beating myself with it. He would hold me for hours, sometimes days, while I cried.
We knew we weren't "normal". But we weren't ever going to admit it.
Today is different...we know we aren't "normal". Now we accept that we need help. We want to change the way that "normal" is viewed. We love our kids, more than life. I will not stand by and watch them go through any of what I have gone through and not be willing to admit that it is not their fault. The worst pain I ever felt was thinking that I was not normal, that I never would be, and that everyone who loved me didn't understand.
I accept who I am today. Tomorrow I am prepared to stand beside my child, if need be, and help him/her through any feelings of abnormality, through the anger, through the sadness. I will be the change that needs to be. Too long we have lived in a society where people have hidden their "abnormality", feeling ashamed or afraid of what others will think. It is time to realize that the feelings that we all have of "abnormality" is what NORMAL really is.

The FOG

I took a nap today. Insignificant, yes, mostly. But today I took a nap which for me was a huge feat because I hadn't actually slept in over 60 hours. I get so confused by the insomnia versus fatigue cycles that I can't really know what to expect. I am miserable when I can't sleep. I am awful to those around me and even more awful to myself. The worst part is trying to sleep...you know that feeling that is often described as drifting or falling? People have said they remember feeling peaceful and just floating or falling and then suddenly WHAM! they feel frightened and are awake. I do that, a lot. But it isn't falling for me...I am just hanging out, trying to sleep, almost asleep when suddenly there is a heavy weight on my chest, it must be someone attacking me! Or there is a weight on my legs...I can't move! It's a snake! Or some psycho axe murderer jumps out of nowhere in what was once a peaceful dream. When I have trouble falling asleep, I have seriously odd visions that scare me awake and then I can't stop visualizing it...so I lie awake while my husband, my kids, the cats, the dog, the neighbors, the city sleeps. They all sleep. I drift in and out of states of peace and fear throughout the night. When morning comes everyone wakes and starts to get ready for the day while I just lie there, exhausted and frustrated. Oh how I wish I could just SLEEP, deeply, without dreams.
I long for good healthy sleep, the kind that makes you feel refreshed, energized, and ready for the day. I don't remember the last time I slept like that. The reality sinks in when I try to go through a day without having a desire to crawl back into bed. I am just so stinkin' tired all the time! I am not the person I have always pretended to be on the outside. Inside I am a wreck. My mind spins in a million different directions, constantly. I struggle to organize my thoughts into one subject or to maintain a conversation that doesn't end up with me apologizing (at least 10 times) for talking too much or digressing. I can only imagine how difficult it must be for someone to follow my thought processes in a conversation. The conversation may go something like this:
     1st subject.....blah, blah, blah and oh....2nd subject (related to 1st subject).......and then 1st
     subject...then 3rd subject (unrelated to 1st, related to 2nd)......then 1st subject.....then 2nd
     subject.....then 4th subject (unrelated to any of them)....then back to 2nd.
By then even I am somewhat confused about what the original conversation was about and have to ask a leading question "what we were talking about?" or "what was I saying?" Perhaps this happens to many people, but I feel like I am constantly asking people to fill me in on what I was just saying. My disorganized thoughts are drowning me.
I feel as though I have so many different thoughts going through my mind these days that I just can't organize them. I picture placing them into thought columns, organized by subject and prioritized according to relevancy. Oh if only I had a librarian for my thoughts!
Weird...I just...never mind. Yeah, I just thought about what it would be like to have my own personal brain librarian.
So, as you can see, the fog consumes me. It jumbles all of my thoughts into this mess. It is almost like taking the pages of ten different books, all the same size with identical print, and shuffling them and dumping them into a pile on the floor. Sort that! It's a mess...that mess describes my thoughts. There are so many going through my brain that I can't stay on one subject with digressing.
So....what was I saying? Oh yeah, my nap. Naps help, they seem to decrease the thickness of the fog, slowing down the thoughts for a little bit once sleep has come aboard. But only if I can actually get to sleep.

Anger, Regret, and Fear

So here it is, the low down on depression. At least on my depression. Today I am angry. I am angry that the kids didn't do their chores. I am angry that the dog has to be taken outside. I am angry that the trash can is full and the only one who seems to notice is me. I am angry that the toilet seat got left up and the dog drank out of the toilet because now I have a wet butt from sitting on a wet toilet seat. I am angry that I am so tired. I am angry that the TV show I started watching is not what my husband wants to watch. I am angry that my husband doesn't grab my hand and pull me to him and just hold me...you know, like they do in the stupid TV show.
                      I am JUST SO angry.

 I am full of regret. I regret being so angry. I regret all the things I say when I am angry. I regret being angry at my husband for not doing exactly what the TV husbands do. I regret being so angry about the overflowing trash can when I can't get off my butt to take it out, I just sit here, being angry and full of regret. I regret not getting up and taking the dog outside because someone else had to do it after I got angry and screamed at them to do it. I regret being mean, and saying so many awful things.

                     I am FULL of regret.

I am afraid. I am afraid that my marriage will not survive this. I am terrified that one day my husband will look at me and tell me he has had enough, that he can't keep listening to me complain that he doesn't hug me enough or that he doesn't do enough to help out around the house, or that he doesn't do whatever it is I am angry about at the moment. I am fearful that one day my kids will look at me and tell me how much they hate me for all the times I yelled, for all the times I couldn't get out of bed, for all the times that I couldn't be the mother that they deserve.

                    I LIVE in fear.

So, let's assume that I was properly diagnosed when I was 19...Major Depressive Disorder. My life has been good. I have been happy, mostly. I fell head over heels in love at the age of 19, making the high school romance that I thought I couldn't ever recover from seem so ridiculous. I fell HARD. And it felt AMAZING. Then along came baby, and life got even better. Who knew it could? I didn't think it was possible to be more in love than I was until I met my daughter. She made me see EVERYTHING differently and I fell so much in love with her and even more deeply in love with her daddy that nothing else mattered. We were living a fairy tale romance, in my mind anyway. Along came our second daughter and then our son. Each child filled our home with more love than before. I kept thinking that I could not possibly be able to have more love than I already had, but it just kept coming. And our third daughter brought even more love into our home. How BLESSED! What a gift to have 4 healthy children and an amazing husband that loves me so much and is an amazing father to our children. What more could I have ever wanted???

Well, what I wanted was to continue on with being blissfully happy. Truly, I did. What I did NOT want was for my happiness to be slowly chipped away by every little thing that happened in my life. I never anticipated that we would still be struggling to make ends meet when the kids all started school. Honestly, I thought that we would both work and everything would just fall into place. I mean, at least we wouldn't have to pay for diapers anymore, right? How foolish I was. I didn't foresee going into a career that would suck the life out of me. I went to school because I was so full of love, I wanted to share it. I wanted to care for others, I mean truly care for them.
I began working in the nursing field and fell in love with the people, with caring for them. I went to school to do more of  that, hoping to better support my family doing what I loved. Schools out, time to go from the full time student and full time employee to being the full time and overtime employee. They teach you to accept nursing as a "thankless job". I did. I accepted that the people I cared for would most often not say thank you and that their families would secretly resent us. (The family can't help it, they resent the care provider for being able to be there day in and day out for their loved one. They love us for it, but they resent us too, most of them don't even realize it. But we, the care providers, we sense it from time to time.) Anyway, we accept that. What they don't prepare you for...your coworkers. They teach you about the importance of showing up no matter what because if you don't, the care still has to be provided. They teach you what to do in the incidence that something prevents you from going to work...call your own replacement and when you can't find one, you show up anyway. And they teach you that you will have to go to work on your days off to cover for someone else who couldn't fulfill the responsibility of showing up. Feeling burned out, I quit and accepted a part-time position somewhere else, still in nursing. Part-time was never part-time. I was still working full-time and overtime... What burns you is the politics involved. As a woman I realize that working with a bunch of other women will involve some amount of drama. But that does not mean I enjoy it.
We all work hard, we all go unnoticed, under-appreciated. We all signed up for this. But what I didn't sign up for was making my family take a back seat to everyone else's families. Not fair, not doing it! I worked hard to get where I was but I wasn't going to continue making my family suffer at home, alone, while I was working. No amount of money is worth not getting to see my kids every night. No money will ever be enough to make me want to skip out on school musicals or dance performances. No money will ever be more important than taking my child to the hospital...so I quit.
There have been so many things that have happened over the past 15 years that have set me back. My world has been shattered several times with marital struggles, hospitalizations of loved ones, death. I still have all 4 of my children and I am still happily married and madly in love with the same man who swept me off my feet nearly 14 years ago. But it has not always been blissful.

Don't misunderstand. I love my family with all that I am. But sometimes what I am is angry, afraid, regretful. Sometimes I am nothing. Sometimes I am just SO tired. Sometimes I hate me.

I say things when I am angry that I regret to the core. But I can't take it back. I can apologize a thousand times, but I can never take back the awful things I have said.

You know, the thing is, no one is doing anything differently today than they do every other stinking day. What is different is ME. I am having a bad day and therefore I am forcing my bad day upon everyone else. My husband DOES grab my hand sometimes and pull me to him and honestly, it is WAY better than anything you see on TV. My kids do their chores, usually, and if they don't, all it usually takes is a reminder to get them started. The trash...it is on the chore list, so someone will take it out. The dog, well, I have two legs and I can take him out just as easily as anyone else, except when I am in a bad mood, in which case someone usually tells me they were just getting their shoes on when I started yelling. The toilet seat...I probably left it up yesterday, causing someone else to get wet butt, so I probably deserved it today.

Here is what sucks the most.
I already know all of what I am angry about is ridiculous, but right now I am so angry that I can't see any of that until I scream and cry it all out.

All that is left to do is beg, and pray. I beg for forgiveness. Of course every single one of my family members forgives me right away, much too easily. I don't really deserve them. And they definitely don't deserve me, what I do to them. They are good people and I am typically a good person too, until I become consumed by the monsters inside me. I pray that my kids and my husband will continue to love me and forgive me no matter what. I know they will never forget what I have put them through and that sucks. I am not what you call normal and I am not what you call sane, at least not right now. A couple months ago, if you knew me, you probably would not have thought anything was unusual about me. I was the typical working mother who was stressed from "managing it all". And today I am not that person, today I am the one who needs managed. We all have a breaking point, a rock bottom, a dark place....

My family, whom I love more than anything else in this life...I am sorry for what afflicts me because I know it afflicts you too.