The Only Good Thing in My Life

Nick said I should call my blog post what I said about coffee this morning.

I don’t understand why it should upset my husband for me to say it. I obviously meant coffee is the only good thing in my life BESIDES my family. Besides, I mean, you can’t drink your family.

So, Cole said, “Mahm.”

Not Mom or Mama exactly, but he made the sound. And he knew he was doing something marvelous. He practiced at least three times for ten minutes. He put his whole being, body, and breath into it. He pushed out the sounds from deep in his belly.

He just said, “Mome.”

And now, “Uh-Mum-mum-mum.”

Okay, THAT sounded like, “Mama!”

Very cool.

I’m just saying

Today is Cole’s six-month birthday. He celebrated by screaming whenever we tried to put him down.

Right now he’s sitting on my lap making baby grunts and “uuunh” sounds. If I were to place him on his playmat, which is full of fun baby things like crinkly cows and mirrors, he would once again begin crying until his eyes wrinkled and his entire head and face turned red.

Not the makings of a peaceful day, or a day where one gets much done. I hate having high hopes for a day’s work and then having to settle for being thrown up on instead.

Wow, I am really being a crepe hanger today, as my grandma likes to say.

I just thought of something cute Genny picked up. The other day she asked me what something meant, I don’t remember what, and I said it was just a saying. Now when she says something that I don’t get and I ask, “What?”, she says, “Oh, it’s a saying, Mom.”

Beliefs

I’m sick and tired of being depressed. I can’t stand that I can’t just enjoy life. I want to be able to savor the moments with my children when they are young. I want to relish every smile, laugh, and baby poop.

I know there isn’t anything “wrong” with me, but that thought is always nagging at me. Like I’m supposed to be loving motherhood more. I’m supposed to not mind sacrificing so much of my own life for others. I’m supposed to survive on the joy I receive from others’ dependence on me.

But I don’t fall into that mindset like many other mothers may. But I still want to be a mother. And I really want to find ways to enjoy motherhood more. Perhaps this is enough for one day—to realize how I feel is fine and to want to find ways to gently shift my experience.

I really don’t like how I can’t stand up for my own beliefs sometimes. Why must I feel the way I believe people think mothers should feel? Why must I meet expectations when it comes to motherhood? When it comes to anything?

The same goes for my feelings about strippers. When I read people talking about strippers as if they are whores or dumb, I go through different emotions. Anger. Agreement. Sadness. Disgust.

It’s like my mind is constantly trying to figure out who I agree with, but I never find the exact right belief.

I’m just here. Me. Trying to figure my life out.

Mood Swings

I am considerably better today. I had phone therapy during which I spoke to my therapist about the possibility of my being bipolar. I have such massive mood swings. I physically feel unable to move when depressed, but when in my up state, my body feels like it’s fueled by baby hamsters running through my blood.

I’m hoping that this whole brain imbalance is simply from lack of decent sleep for six months. Perhaps when I begin getting a solid four hours every night I will begin to feel evened out emotionally.

I just took Genny and Cole for a walk. We probably went about a mile. It felt good to move and the added benefit is that Cole fell asleep. I now have some time to work on my project.

On a side note, one of my favorite pairs of pants would not close around my belly this morning. This, I do not like.

Stressed Out

You know how when you’re really stressed out and angry you can only focus on that and not write about anything else? That’s where I’m at today.

Cole was not happy all day. Crying and whining the moment he was set down. He had to be held. And he still does. Nick is holding him while he and Genny watch Kung Fu Panda.

Some days I feel like I can handle everything. Today, I feel like I can handle nothing.

At one point, trying to put Cole down for a nap, I sang, “I want to kill myself, kill myself, kill myself!” It was a rousing chorus.

My depression makes me feel physically heavy, unwieldy.

Tired. I want to pull the covers over my head. I want to call out for my mother to come and help me. And I do call out to her sometimes, but she doesn’t answer. Then I feel sorry for myself.

But the baby still cries. And I still get down on myself for not getting more work done. It’s a bottomless swirl where each depressing thought feeds the next.

I hope tomorrow I can lift my head up above and breathe.