Christmas blues

So Christmas is almost here and recently I was thinking how I'm just not ready for it. The decorations are up, and the gifts have been purchased. The music is playing in the car and the kids are super stoked and can't stop talking about the holiday. But when I think back to when I was younger, it used to feel that Christmas had me. It filled me up in ways I can't really describe. And being a kid who was bullied my whole young existence, it made me feel super euphoric at the thought of all that time off from school and not having to be around the people that were hurting me. I always felt that no matter what happened, it didn't matter because it was Christmastime and that would make everything OK.

I was blessed to have parents that worked hard to give me a good life and I am grateful that we always had food on the table, I always had clothes on my back and I always had an amazing Christmas. The lights sparkled so bright it covered up the complicated parts of life. The pictures of Santa and all the many decorations hung up around the house covered up the ugliness of stress, and reminded me of the happiness the holiday would bring. Even for only a short time. But as I have gotten older, that part of Christmas; the part that is so full of stress and responsibility has taken it's toll over the years. Now that I have a family of my own, I am the one who has to give Christmas to others. And please don't mistake me, I am honored by this. There isn't much that compares to the joy and warmth the holidays bring to my babies. Listening to their excitement just taking the tree box out of the closet to put up and decorate(I'm a fake tree person). Or their back and forth banter about Santa, Christmas Lists and where the elf is. There is so much to be grateful for. And I have accepted, even if reluctantly at times, that I have to now create that magic for my family even when I feel like I can't because of the pressure. But adulting during the holidays isn't always a ball of fun. Not only because of the normal daily struggles(money, kids, marriage, family issues) but now the pressure of also manifesting the magic for my family when all I want is to not grieve for my Mom who has a rare form of young onset dementia and is progressing by the month. What I wouldn't give to reminisce with her about when I was little and laugh about things I did to drive her crazy around the holidays but she barely even stays on the phone with me anymore as she can't speak well and doesn't have the attention span. And maybe the holiday would sparkle brighter for me, if I could just sit with all my brothers and sisters and their families in one state and have a family meal together. Especially after we lost a 2nd sister this August(the 1st was in September of last year). And as lovely as it is sitting in front of my Christmas tree and looking at all the amazing ornaments while my kiddos are running around and playing, it would be super awesome if I weren't still grieving the loss of a friend that passed away in May. I realize these things are all a part of the great circle of life. And I also understand that things can always always be much worse.

Which is why all of this makes me appreciate all the more, and miss so much the magic that my Mom and Dad manifested into my life. I miss my Mom waking me up in the middle of the night to go play in the snow and then come in for hot chocolate before going back to bed. Or her and and My Dad and I watching all the Christmas shows we had recorded on a vhs tape. A Charlie Brown Christmas, Emmet Otter's Jugband Christmas, Mickey's Christmas carol, Frosty the snowman and so on. Helping my Mom decorate the house and the tree. (If you're wondering where my Dad was in all of this he was usually at work, but he did do all the heavy lifting). On Christmas eve we always went to my grandma's house for dinner and to exchange presents. All of my Moms siblings were there and with their families and we always had a blast. The adults would drink and laugh and get silly and all us cousins would chill out and watch TV or chat in the living room. Then on Christmas morning I wasn't allowed to get up until I yelled through a vent connecting mine and my parents room to ask if I could get up. My Mom and Dad always wanted to see my reaction to all the presents under the tree. After presents was breakfast and at some point my stocking stuff. My Mom always made a big dinner, and my uncle who still lives downstairs from them would come up and we'd eat together. Sometimes one or more of my Moms siblings would come as well. Everything was awesome. It feels like yesterday.

I am so beyond grateful that I got to experience those Christmases. And despite life and all its complexities and all my feelings I know that I will still do my very best to create that magic for my family. Because thinking about it, I'm positive my Mom and Dad were dealing with life and issues of their own around the holidays but still pushed through for me knowing that time if fleeting, and dammit well sometimes we just have to do what we have to do. So for me, I am having a rough go of it and I will somehow pull that Christmas spirit right on out of my butt. And get by knowing I still have so much to be grateful for. I have people that love me, my babies, a roof over my head, and food in my belly. So dammit I will make that magic for my kids. I will play and sing those Christmas songs, watch the shows and show my kids that they too can have the kind of Christmases they will remember for their whole lives. And I'll save the rest for my therapist. Merry Christmas!!

Moving on(a song)

On to the next town
On to the next town

Here we are, moving on again.

On to the next place
On to the next place

Here we are, starting o'er again.

Sometimes I just wish we'd settle down. Instead of always running toward the next dusty ground.

Cuz I feel more lost each time
Tired of leaving love behind.

On to the next space
On to the next space

How are we to move on again?

On to the next road
On to the next road

How are we to start o'er again?

Lord knows we've had our share of pain.

But he also knows that it's taken its toll and I just don't feel the same.

And I know I need to go
But there are things you need you to know.

Thank You for the good and bad times we got through. Thank You for always sticking beside me all year through. 

Because that's what we always do. 

Life together with our family and me and you. 

On to the next town......(whisper)On...to the next town......

V2019

Drained

I have a lot on my plate, to say the least. On top of which I am not where I'd like to be health wise. At all. I mean when I think about a time that I was in shape, there was more time, no kids, a full time job to keep me busy and not eating really. A lot of what kept me in shape was activity, busyness, being young and full of energy and to look cute for boys until I met my husband. I wasn't invested because I understood the food pyramid ratios and carbs and sugar. I always just ate what I wanted and was just so active it didnt matter. And the activity was available because I didn't have kids!. But over time up and down with weight. Then just gaining and gainingand gaining. Then mental Illness was diagnosed. Then kids(3), stresses of moving multiple times, deaths, marriage issues, then with weight gain comes physical health problems. Knee surgery, Inflammation, arthritis diagnosis, reflux, medication changes, carpal tunnel syndrome, IBS, and now the cherry on top? Mild Obstructive sleep apnea. In one word, "exhaustion". It has not gone away.  No amount of caffeine has helped. Diet changes have helped and so did sleep(some) but I'm in the vicious cycle of being alone at night is peaceful. But no matter what dietary change, I can't seem to stick with it. The fundamental problem here is, I know what I need to do to feel better. I do.I am aware and full of insight. But why can't I stick to it? Partly because one thing I was also never taught was telling myself no. Health wasn't talked about in my house until my father got diagnosed with diabetes.And then only when my Mom would scold my Dad for eating too much junk but then go and eat cookies at midnight. Health wasn't about "It's important to eat X amt of protein, X amt of veggies, fruits etc". In my house we snacked. A lot. Also at night. And all of those things are OK. In moderation. But there wasn't a lot of emphasis on going to the Dr regularly either. Or the dentist. Which are important. And don't be mistaken. I am not blaming. But how you were raised and what kind of foundation you had as a child is very difficult to break and to change. Even if it means your very life. I don't know how to go backwards. I can only forward. If GOD allows. And all I can expect from myself is to try my very best to change the pathways that were set for me, because I know I am capable. But I have to do it for me. I have to do it for me to feel better again, and to keep on for my family. And because that is the answer. Isn't it?

Namaste

Virginia

How?

How am I to cry if I am expected to see everything, all the time?
How am I to allow myself to fall, when I am expected to walk a hundred miles?
How can I express emotion, when I have to be strong for everyone else?
How can I accept, when I wasn't given a choice to begin with?
How can I be there, when my heart wants to be elsewhere?
How do I keep moving, when I am so weakened by loss?
How do I catch my breath when I keep getting hit as hard as I have been?

How does one live with such loss without the pain sinking deeper still? I seek GOD. And his forgiveness for saying it's not enough. The time. It wasn't enough. It never is. I am in awe of this grief. In complete awe.

And I see no relief in sight.

Too quiet

It's too fucking quiet around here. My children are all in school.

I hate this shit.

What shit you ask? This part of motherhood. The part when your kids are around you and driving you up the wall forcing you to yearn for peace and quiet. To be alone even for 5 minutes. But then when they aren't there and you finally have that peace and quiet you so desperately wanted and feel you deserve, all you can think of is how much you miss them! 

It's like, "WHAT.THE.EVER.LOVING.FUCK??!!!" You know?! I mean this has to be in the Diagnostic and Statistical manual of mental disorders.

Repeating yourself about 15 times when answering a question, speaking constantly(often to yourself) because your children aren't listening at all. Oh how about that ever loving game of "It is zero hour(bed time), and Mommy you just HAVE to find that fucking tiny piece of crap toy I haven't used in 8 years or else I'll just die!" Gaahh!!! 

Have any of you ever stepped on a Lego?! Fuck off with those damn things! Oh wait. Cleaning something up for them to just somehow mysteriously walk over and spill something on the very spot you just cleaned like 2 seconds ago. Is that the universe laughing it's ass off or what?!! The whole phone thing. Not one word from any of them. They are all lost in the recesses of my house. Hiding away in crevaces with a tablet or playing with something. As SOON as you start talking on the phone the universe sets off the telekinetic alarm for the kids to come out and ask you for 9567 things that you are going to say no to. Then finally you have to apologize to the person you are speaking to on the phone so they don't think you're having an exorcism moment. So many things right? Like for real kid? I didn't know I was fat, thank you for poking at my love handles(getting dressed and/or coming out of the shower) and asking why I have those. My kids like to hear my teeth crunching together when they've told me they want to eat something, I make it, and then it's "I didn't say I wanted that". (eye twitching). 

All that shit is enough to make you drink a whole fucking bottle of wine. Not a glass or 2. A bottle. Because the sheer energy it takes for you to hold back all of the curse words.......just...yeah. 

So yeah, this love/hate thing with being a parent? Being a Mom? is a big bitch. A nasty, foul creature of a bitch that sometimes feels impossible to deal with. Which is probably why I'm in therapy every week. Is it a wonder I can't consistently shower? I sometimes give myself such shit about being "put together". Like telling myself "I need to do my makeup", or "I need to shave my legs". But why? I'm exhausted don't you see?! Ha! Like permanently crazy and exhausted. And I could continue on about the plethora of things that are difficult about being a parent. And how you really can't know what it will be like unless you actually do it (which is frankly, true). But once all that has worn away, and you have finally had a few nights of uninterrupted sleep, and a few bottles(err, glasses) of scotch, I think what it boils down to is having kids is just like being in a relationship with someone. But in this case it's with littler people that you can't like, give back, or sell or something. It's a messy business. And truth be told I don't need any help in the mental illness area because I have the diagnosis already. 

But you know...as much as these kids test my patience, my fortitude, my energy level, and my sanity; there is one thing that they keep golden. One thing that amongst it all, they nurture, and teach, and deliver every.single.day. 

My heart. <3 

-V

Unconditional Love (A Tribute)

I can't sleep. As a matter of fact I am sitting in the dark typing this with tears streaming down my face.

She is everywhere. In the thousands of gifts she has given us; in the places in our house where memories were made with her. She is all over the apartment she lived in downstairs. Her knick knacks, clothes, even her makeup. Everything is exactly where it would be if she were here still walking around yelling at my father in law to get off his ass and do something. She is in my daughter's face as she shares her nose and eyes. Tears. Who is this "She"? She is Lorraine. My Mother in Law. Although after 20 years, she is my 2nd Mom. I still can't believe she is gone. We all knew it would come. But you can never prepare yourself for the black hole that shows up to take the place of the person you once knew.

I go through all the normal responses in my head. "She's at peace". "She's not suffering anymore".  "She is always with me". "She's with her Mom, her sister and her best friend and cousin that she has missed for so long". I know all of this.
But I've known this woman for 20 years. I remember walking into her house when I first went to meet her and the first thing she said when she looked at me was "Who's this Tomayta'?!" That's just who she was. Just straight up and you just better get used to being an asshole. 20 years is a long time. A lot of ups and downs, a lot of birthdays, and Christmases. A WHOLE LOTTA shopping, and dinners and parties. Several moves, and many, many disagreements. "Fighter" is an understatement. For years I would even have arguments with her in my head (my OCD didn't help). Most of the time I just chocked it all up to different generations, different struggles, different likes and opinions. And even though we frequently butted heads about everything from what to name my kids to what I had in my china closet, she sort of forced her way into my heart. She was one that if you are a part of her family, dammit you are going to talk to her whether you like it or not. She didn't let any time go by before reaching out, even after an argument. If my husband and I didn't call her often enough she would leave us messages saying "Is your finger broken"?! Ha! She knew how to press everyone's buttons. But the majority of the time we would end up talking it out, apologizing and saying we loved each other. She understood my reasons and I understood hers. Not always but most of the time. Because after all, she loved us all. Maybe a little differently, but it was love nonetheless.

2 years ago both his parents moved into our home. We moved in August 2015, and they in October the same year. I knew there would be demands, and difficulty. I have 3 children and I was taking on 2 elderly people who were not the healthiest. His Dad had just had a stroke the previous year and as good as he was functioning, he had to step down as his wife's caregiver. So something inside along with Gods divine wisdom made me see that apartment in our basement and say,"Your parents can come live here with us". No hesitation. Why? Because I know how fleeting time is. If they both aren't as healthy as they could be why not invite them to be around their grand babies?. I wanted to help them. Physically, emotionally, maybe even mentally. Even now I know in my heart that I did help them some. Especially her. And I know it was the best decision because she was able to be closer to her grand kids and spend time with all of us as a family. There was never a dull moment. The good, the bad, the ugly, it didn't matter; we did it together. Her and I developed a great friendship. A great admiration for one another. We had many an amazing, truthful and funny conversation during our time together. Which only intensified in the hospitals, rehab and even in hospice.

Which is why, in the face of such loss and grief, I ride these waves where one minute I am angry, but the next joyful. Then I'm quiet and brooding, but appreciating the sunset when I realize again that she is gone. On come the tears. Thank GOD they are interrupted by my children's laughter and arguing. As a reminder that life does still go on. Through this experience I have learned imperative and powerful lessons. Lessons you can only learn after you have suffered, or struggled through something so great there may have been a moment where you fell to your knees and threw your hands up in the air. I have learned Humility and Grace. Dignity and Patience. Gratitude and Perseverance. Resilience....and Forgiveness. All of these I've learned from the blessed opportunity I had of being able to take care of another human being. For someone I care deeply about. It will continue on with my father in law but it's still such a gift.

Above all else however, I've learned about unconditional Love. In all it's unexpected, raw forms. That in the midst of anger, bitterness, fear, and the grit of real life, you "love" no matter what. I'm really going to miss her.

I think back to March 1st. She turned 74 that day. The one thing that I think about that brings me some solice is that despite everything, I am so grateful that we got to take her out for her birthday to celebrate her life one last time. After all she was happy, and with her family. Which I truly believe is how she would want to be remembered.

                          Love You Mom, until we meet again. <3

My words

So I am eating my words today. And they taste like shit. I posted a rant yesterday on Facebook about what we need to do as parents if our kids are being bullied. I was responding to news of a girl who completed suicide because she was being bullied. But when I was faced with something similar, I was left helpless.

My son(6) has anxiety and possibly OCD. I have to take him to get evaluated. Lately he's been acting out and repeating himself constantly even after you have answered him. Both of which he does when his anxiety has been triggered. I attempted to have a talk with him but I didn't get anywhere. On top of the anxiety his reflux(G.E.R.D) has returned after being away for about a month. I know this when he develops a cough that only gets worse with no further "sick" symptoms.

(For those that don't know what reflux is, it's when the stomach pumps that supply the Acid to break down food go into overdrive and produce too much. For some reason this causes the flap in the esophagus to not work properly and open up when it's not supposed to, splashing that acid into the esophagus. It is severely uncomfortable, painful, and can make you physically ill. It causes coughing, burning in the chest, severe nausea and vomiting, severe stomach aches, and headaches and can even make you feel like you're having a heart attack. It's not a virus or a bacterial infection that is contagious and he just started taking the meds to treat it again. I also have plans to take him to get evaluated for possible food triggers/allergies. )

After some fishing last night just before bed, he admitted to me that the kids in his class are complaining and making fun of him because he has the cough. They are acting like he is 'sick' and refusing to play with him and walking away. He made sure to stress walking away. Which to us as adults sound like 'OK so the person walked away'. But to a sensitive 6 year old with anxiety, it's as if he's been abandoned because there is something wrong with him. He then said that in front of the whole class his teacher said to him, "Brendan, if you're coughing that loud you shouldn't be in school". Again, to an adult that statement might come off as "well they think I am sick and they don't want to catch it". But to a 6 year old with anxiety, what that says to him is, "There is something wrong with you and you don't belong here." And that's what he told me he felt. I felt terrible for him.

He claims he has explained to everyone what is wrong with him. That he has reflux and it doesn't affect them but that they just don't care. I think part of that are his emotions talking thanks to his age and of course, the anxiety. But when someone is continually making fun of you even after you have explained you have an illness you are going to think they don't care. Again....he's a kid.

And in the grand scheme of things, maybe the teacher just didn't think before she spoke. But maybe she was already frustrated with him as he can be extremely trying when his anxiety is activated. I don't know yet. I just sent her an email last night. But for my son, at that moment no amount of encouragement, I Love you's or rationalization for his reflux and that it will go away, got through to him. So finally I pulled out the last card I had. I asked him, "Do you love you"? Which I tend to do every once in a while when I am trying to instill that as long as you love yourself you can take on the world.
He shook his head no. And I felt completely deflated. And scared. Because I didn't know what the hell else to say to him except "Take deep breaths, close your eyes and go to your happy place and go to sleep." And of course that I loved him.

My son is 6. And I am scared for him. That is the reality. When he was younger and I realized how sensitive he really is, that fear began. And since then I've done nothing but try to instill confidence, and teach him coping skills for his anxiety and constant worry. But I am now coming to understand that even with the best intentions, some of what we teach our kids doesn't always work. At least right away.

I know exactly how he feels. Exactly. I was bullied from Elementary school all the way up into my Junior year of High School. And when you are in the trenches of whatever it is that you are dealing with. Pain, bullying, even apparently something as simple as a reflux cough. You can't see into the future. One of the biggest challenges of anxiety is that it tells you that your suffering will never go away. I was abused as a child so I learned survival at a very young age. But I can't teach that kind of survival. You have to live it. I am not going to abuse my child in hopes it will make him stronger. I am just not.

In the midst of this I feel as with everything else in life, there is a spiritual/life lesson here. Maybe this is just a part of his journey. Maybe this is his lot to carry for now. I mean, life isn't meant to be easy right? It is life. It doesn't discriminate. If something is going to happen, it's going to happen. And the majority of what determines the outcome is how you can respond. I mean, when you look at the bigger picture, once his meds kick in again things will go back to the way they were when he wasn't getting made fun of for his cough. And maybe he will learn who his real friends are. Or maybe like I was, he will still be friends with them because he is so darned loving and won't let those kids take that away from him(I hope). Only GOD knows. And maybe all I can do as his mother is keep teaching him coping skills. And keep telling him that no matter what happens, he will always have people that do love him and accept him just the way he is.

-V