Perspective

When I wrote my last post, I was clearly wallowing in a big steaming pile of self-pity. I was trying to get out of the pile, but I was still there nonetheless. Then a couple of things happened this week and I started feeling a little guilty for feeling so sorry for myself.

1. The Virginia Tech shootings: People are dead all because of one very sick individual. Some parents lost their only child because of this unfathomable event. Many, many lives have changed and an entire community (entire nation, even) is reeling. Perspective.
2. My stepfather had to have most of his colon removed in an emergency surgery, and will now live out the rest of his days with a colostomy pouch. While that’s not an impossible thing to live with, and I’m sure many people adjust just fine and remain productive members of society, I’m a little worried about how he is going to adjust to this life changing experience. I’m also worried about my very tired mother driving back and forth from OKC to Muskogee/Eufaula to take care of him, all while trying to keep her new job. They have been very understanding so far, but I know a day will soon come to an end. And then there’s also the fact that she burned up the motor in her car driving to see him before the surgery. Her stress level far exceeds mine at this point. More perspective.

So I’ve realized that no matter how bad I think my problems are (and in the grand scheme of things, they aren’t that bad), things can ALWAYS be worse. There will always be someone out there hurting more than me, more lonely than me, and more stressed than me. So my thinking is a little clearer now and I’m thinking more positively. This was a good lesson for me to learn. But I do appreciate all the comments and emails. You guys are all incredibly sweet and if I ever meet any of you in person, I will smother you in hugs.

My hero

I’ve been keeping a secret lately. I’m not happy. I am deeply and profoundly unhappy, and it is starting to affect all aspects of my life. It is mostly due to my feelings of inadequacy at being a good mother. I am overwhelmed just trying to keep us all fed and clean, just doing the bare minimum of what needs to be done every night with little to no support from my spouse. In short, I feel as if I’m failing. Not that I am trying to be a perfect mom or anything, but I feel like I’m failing at just squeaking by. Plus I have been irritable, short-tempered, weepy, and have had a tendency to yell around my kids. I have been struggling with whether or not I should make an appointment with my doctor and discuss the possibility of meds. But I think I mentioned once before that I have done the medication route twice in my life and while it helped at the time, the weaning process was not something I ever want to go through again. It was brutal. However, here I am once again considering medication to help me deal with my feelings of inadequacy and guilt, loneliness, and those thoughts of “Exactly what possessed me to decide to have not just one, but two children?” Add to that one heaping helping of separation anxiety, and you have a recipe for depression.

Enter my mom.

My mother and her husband recently decided that the job opportunities in small town Oklahoma were not plentiful enough to sustain their long-term financial goals, and she would have much better luck coming back to Oklahoma City and looking for a job. She found one! Her husband is in the process of fixing up their house and getting it ready to sell, and she is staying with us through the week nights and going home on the weekends. Once they sell their house, they will look for a place to buy here. One benefit of this plan is that she gets to spend a whole lot more time with her grandchildren. The benefit to me is that I have HELP. I have another adult in the house during the week that I can talk to about things other than the Backyardigans or Ninja Turtles. Baby girl has a loving Grammy here to hold her while I do a few dishes or maybe even a load of laundry. I have time to read to my son without baby girl climbing on me and crying because I’m not holding her. But mostly I am just enjoying not feeling lonely. I know that sounds crazy, feeling lonely when you aren’t actually ever alone, but trust me, it’s accurate. You can be surrounded by your kids 24/7 and if you don’t have another adult to converse with, it gets pretty damn lonely.

I love my kids. I really do. I don’t regret having them, and I still consider them my greatest joy in life. But above being a mom, I am still my own person and I think sometimes that identity gets lost. With my mom here, I am able to be a little more Missy and less Mommy. So my mom is my hero. Her being at my house for the past couple of weeks has done wonders for my disposition, and I think I can make it through this latest blue spell without medication. For now, anyway.