I’m still alive…

Again it’s been a long while since I wrote. Writing seems like so much work. And I’m already writing a lot… I’ll share about that soon – I’m not ready to spill the beans just yet.

So what’s new? Not much. I have ups and downs. The up days are way fewer than the down days. I’m trying- most days. Some days trying is too hard. Some days just thinking about trying makes me exhausted.

I’m still seeing my counselor an hour a week, and going to Dialectical Behavioral Therapy 2 hours a week. We are getting ready to start inner child work, we’ve been trying to start for a couple of months but things keep “getting in the way”. Honestly, I think I might be avoiding…. I need to face this. I don’t think I’ll ever be ok if I don’t.

It’s been 83 days since I last scratched. I’ve been looking at my scars, they give me comfort in a way. They are small, but there, sharing my pain. I’ve picked up some other coping mechanisms like pulling my eyebrows, and not leaving my hair alone.

My OCD is smacking me in the face constantly- especially since cold and flu season is here now. I’ve been wiping my inside clothes down with disinfectant wipes if someone in the family touches me. It’s so damn frustrating.

I have more to say but maybe if I save it I’ll write again sooner… until next time.

Maybe she’s right? Mother knows best?

I can’t let go of the text my mom sent about 6 months ago saying she wasn’t disappointed in ME, but that I don’t have the support I need to SHINE. I keep mulling the word over, trying to figure out what exactly I would need to do to shine, and I just was coming up empty until tonight,

Hubby and I were watching a movie and two people were cliff diving. I made an offhand comment that I would love to do that, that it looks like fun, but in the next breath said I would be too scared. I said “I am too scared to go out in our yard at night” and hubby said “you’re too scared to go out in the daylight”.

The sad thing is, he’s right. And maybe that’s what my mom means. I’m don’t live my life, I’m too scared of everything. I merely get by from day to day, trying not to mess things up too badly. And in all the “getting by”, I never live.

I’m too afraid to fail. I’m too afraid I’ll do something wrong. I’m too afraid germs will make me sick. I’m too afraid of screwing up my kids. Fear runs my life. I can’t plan everything when I leave my bubble so something unpredictable might happen, and that thing might be bad, and bad is… bad.

My brain instantly goes to worst-case scenario, and then all the ways to prevent that. It’s exhausting. So it’s easier to just not live than to risk it all…. and therefore I will never shine.

Well at least I think I have figured that problem out. Can’t have unclosed loops.

Broken…. A Poem

Please, don’t judge, there is really no structure to this poem, but it’s not a story, or a “post”.  But tonight was a really bad night, and I let my pen just scrawl along. 

Broken.

I feel the familiar “whoosh, whoosh, whoosh” of the blood in my ears.

My heart is racing, pulse is 120.

There’s a buzzing in my body.

I’m sweating, everywhere, even my legs.

My brain is going to dark, dark, places.

I want to see the red blood coming out of my arms.

I want to see the raised skin of the scratch.

I want to feel the sting and burn of the cuts.

I want my brain to stop.

FAT, UGLY, HIDEOUS, GROSS.

Bad mom, yeller, ineffective.

Bad wife, “makes” hubby do all the cooking and clean

up from meals, undermines his discipline.

LOSER, CAN’T FINISH ANYTHING, STUPID

Will never change.

Always a victim.

Don’t SHINE, am a disappointment.

Not good enough, NEVER enough.

Undermines my own dreams.

I sit, tears brimming, threatening to spill over.

I sit at my desk all the things I used to use to cut at my disposal.

But I can’t cut, no matter how much I want to, I’m on blood thinners. I don’t want to ruin my kids’ life any more than I already have.

So I push it down, down, down.  The whooshing, shaking, and sweating gets worse. My head pounds too.

How long can I do this? How long will I have to do this?

No one is going to save me, or the little girl inside.  Together we will drown and choke on our labels; the labels of rejection and the labels we give ourselves.  Never truly happy; never truly whole—

Broken.

Raising Teenagers Is NOT for the Faint of Heart

Big one is 15.  He is argumentative, oppositional, irritable and I am sure there are at least 15 more adjectives.  And yes, all of that is “normal” teenage behavior- but add the Autism Spectrum, bipolar disorder, ADHD, anxiety and possible narcissistic personality.  It’s teenager amplified.

Ive been trying to help him get ready for camp.  He was leaving today.  He wanted to bring half his stuff in random Walmart bags.  He has ZERO executive functioning skills, and he refused to let me even make suggestions without getting angry and screaming at me (at the top of his lungs- I feel like he’s 8 again. (our worst year to date)).

We definitely are not getting along lately…. yet I am the one in his corner.  I am the one making the cog wheels move so that he gets the help he needs, with the “least restrictive environment”.

But there are days I look at him, and I wonder what happened to my baby?  I think back to the day I found out I was pregnant with him, after failed clomid, attempts, failed IUI attempts, and 2 in-vitro cycles, how happy I was.  And when he was born, the struggles with his seizures, the struggle with developmental delays, giving him EVERYTHING I had.  Driving him 80 miles 2x a week for OT, finding him every therapy we could get. I think about the year he was 8.  The year he was violent, angry, physically abusive to me.  And I feel like I earned a little bit easier teenage years.  After all, we have his meds right, we have had therapy in place long enough.  I just want peace.  I want to remember these last few years as a teenager fondly, not with sadness, and regret.

My kids mean everything to me. They are my legacy, they are my best accomplishments, they are the best of me.  They SHINE in every way I don’t.  I gave them all my shine.

Maybe this is how all moms feel during the teenage years.  But this is my first time being there, it hurts, and honestly PLEASE don’t tell me it’s all normal, I KNOW that in my head, but it’s my heart that hurts, and that will only get better with time.

I don’t know if I can do this again… also PTSD triggers.

I will start with the triggers part of this post because it lends itself nicely to the first half of the title. A couple weeks back in DBT group we were asked to write down our triggers, I had a hard time because my triggers are usually internal- my perception that someone is mad at me, answering a question wrong etc.  I couldn’t think of a trigger that someone else could cause.  What I mean to say is I didn’t think there were any topics that were “sensitive”- until today.

I have been locking horns with the special education department in my son’s school over their non-compliance in regards to two specific areas of his IEP.  They are small “things” but they could mean the difference between success and failure for him.  I emailed the director and his case manager a couple weeks ago and voiced my concerns.  The director told the CM to set up an IEP meeting so that we can discuss this. I sorta avoided thinking about it until today.  The meeting date still hasn’t been set, and it was time I started “gathering my evidence”.  As I started this I could feel my chest tightening, my heart beating faster, my thoughts racing and my head aching.  All I could think was I can’t do this again.

When my son was in 1st, 2nd and 3rd grade we lived a couple towns over, where he attended the local public school.  Now, I am not sure if I have mentioned his exact diagnoses – but at the time it was Asperger’s, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and Sensory Processing Disorder.  He has since also added Bipolar II to that list. But we spent 3 years trying to get the school to comply with their own IEPs.  We built a large case against them and brought it to the department of education.  We started with mediation, which failed miserably.  The school couldn’t even live up to their concessions from that.  At that time we went forward with a formal complaint against the school.  We presented about 30 pages detailing 14 allegations against the school.  In the end because I was naive and didn’t eep impeccable records some of the allegations couldn’t be proven but they were found guilty on 7 counts, some of them system wide (meaning affecting all students with IEPs).  They were required to make changes and become compliant or face sanctions.  I don’t know what happened in that district with those specific allegations, because I pulled him out of school and homeschooled him for 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, 8th, and the first month of 9th. I couldn’t deal with the constant fighting, the anxiety, and nightmares I was having.  I do have a couple acquaintances that have special needs kiddos in that district and it seems like things haven’t changed at all.  One day last fall at my son’s dojo a couple of the mom’s were talking about the director, the blatant violations and I found myself in the middle of a panic attack just listening to them talk about it.  I forgot about that conversation until today.  We moved during my son’s 7th grade year to a nearby district that had a much better reputation.

As I was writing out my complaints with the school, printing out the emails (I communicate only in written form with the school now – fool me once-). It all came back. And I realized I just don’t know if I can do it again.  I don’t know if I have enough fight left in me. I don’t have the same support person I had back then.  She was amazing, and was an amazing advocate for my son, as well as a support for me.  She was at every meeting, the 5 hour mediation, as well as some other dark times in the early years.

I knew putting the kids back in school I ran the risk of this happening again.  I knew that I may end up with a school who wasn’t complying, even with the simple stuff.  But I had heard good things about this district, the benefits to my own mental health outweighed the POSSIBLE run-ins with the school.  But now, I am left sitting here reduced to the same feelings I had all those years ago, but this time I am not as strong.  I am not as able to let things lie.

I am starting to feel like an animal trapped in a cage, pacing back and forth, eyes narrowed, growling, in that fight or flight mode, panicked and dangerous (though for me it’s emotional danger for myself not that I am going to go full lion on those around me 😉 )

Title…

I don’t know if I ever explained why I used the title I did for my blog.

I come from a community of people who are constantly telling me to smile. And well meaning people who tell me to “think positive”.

So, for the most part I hide my feelings inside.  I pretend everything is ok, even when my arms are cut up, or I have spent the morning crying.  It also refers to my signature move- stuff and avoid.

There is so much junk hiding in me, so many scars, and fresh wounds inside it would probably scare people away…. so those are “the things I hide inside”.

Even now, I have backslid in terms of depression, but I am keeping it hidden inside. No one knows I am constantly on the verge of tears, I am irritable and have a low tolerance for everything….

Homework

Princess Glitter Sparkle, much like PollyAnna assigns homework.  I told her this week that inside her isn’t blood it’s glitter. She’s just -glitter.  There’s no way else to describe it.  She’s glitter in people form.

So she asked me to draw what I want to look like inside- and this was the result..

fullsizeoutput_b55TR5a7nzGRgC3+k83qTlxxQqFOxd2xARPqE9uZp3D0DZwsFw76sneQBG2wfUnH7dqtw