Grief

I pray to God every day that I never make my children feel unloved or unwanted.

I was adopted as a child by my stepfather but he and my mom divorced a year later. He was in and out of my life and then finally disappeared when I was in my early 20s. I have always had this empty feeling, and of course, I’ve tried to fill the space and feel whole, but nothing has ever helped. I have longed to have that relationship with him, to have the “daddy” every little girl dreams of, but it’s all for naught. Another little girl had my dream, and I was left feeling as if my mere existence was a disturbance.

Today I found out that my adoptive father’s mother passed away. I found out on social media, through a post made by my adoptive father’s father. I’m devastated about the loss and her passing. But the loss of the family is a loss that happened so many years ago. I still cry, I still mourn and grieve. Every time I finish crying I tell myself it’s the last time, yet I cry again. And again. When does it end ? When do you stop grieving for people that don’t grieve for you ? I’ve heard that grieving for someone who is still alive is harder than grieving for someone that has passed. I wholeheartedly believe that is true. The what if’s and the intrusive thoughts of a large family with exceptional holidays are enough to drive anyone mad. I’m not even sure how I have made it this far in my life. I have never healed from the loss of my adoptive father and that side of my family. I have never been able to accept it or move on. I still hold out hope inside my heart that one day we will pick up where we left off and share a life again.

However, I can’t hold onto that hope. I know my children will never know them and that they will never know my children. I know that time will pass and eventually that life will be impossible.

I tried so hard to be exactly what he wanted in a daughter. I’ve always wondered why he didn’t love me, what I did wrong for him to leave me so often. I’m not sure I’ll ever know the answer, but I do know, I’ll always feel like something is missing. I will always grieve and wish it wasn’t like this. But I will also always pray and be grateful for the things I do have in my life. I hurt, but I know I don’t want my children to know that hurt. I don’t even want them to come close to knows this hurt or pain. I hope they know they are always enough, always wanted, always welcome. No matter what.

Trying to heal a broken heart.

❤ LAFMommy

I almost died last year

We’re 9 days into the New Year. I find it hard to believe it’s already 2019, yet here we are, and I’m still pushing along. I look back on my last year and think about how amazing it has been. Even with all of the amazing, everything almost went terribly wrong. I almost died.

I wish I could say it was a car accident or something of the sort, but I can’t. I almost took my own life. Even with everything that was happening, all of the good, I was still suffering. My own demons, my own mind. Both were attacking me and pulling me under. I was holding it all inside for months, maybe longer. I was so happy during my pregnancy, but then I had her. She was perfect in every way, absolutely perfect. I would look at her, and just think of how perfect she was, but everything changed.

I’m not sure exactly when it all changed, but it was like I was in a room and I only had one light, and someone flipped the switch. It all went dark. And in that darkness I couldn’t find the switch to turn the light on again. I struggled so much. I couldn’t handle being near my new, perfect baby. I didn’t want to hold her, touch her, or even look at her. I forced myself; after all, it wasn’t her fault her mother had mental issues. We were having a home built, everything was going so smoothly, finally.

My husband had to go on a business trip, and that’s when my world came crashing down. I was changing my daughter’s diaper and my son was crying and I broke down. My simple break down quickly turned into a devastating mental break. I text my husband and told him I no longer wanted to live. Everything had hit me at once. He couldn’t help me, he was out of state, and I was alone. He was terrified I was going to kill myself. I promised I wouldn’t, but can someone take that seriously in this situation ?

A few days later I wound up breaking down to my mom and grandma. From that point on I was no longer allowed to be alone. People kept asking why I was so depressed and what happened. There’s not always an answer to those questions, what am I supposed to say ? I already had depression and anxiety from PTSD, add the post-partum depression to that and I was a ticking time bomb.

Every day I would wake up, and I was glad for that. I was so sad on the inside, but so very glad I hadn’t succumbed to the demons trying to steal me away from this life, from my children, from my husband. Fast forward to now, nine days into January, and I find myself here again; struggling. I was put on medication and now they’ve changed my dosage because the previous dose wasn’t helping.

How do you tell the people around you, the ones that love you, that you aren’t happy ? How do you tell them about your struggle, when they are so happy with life ? They couldn’t possibly understand, could they ? The mind is a powerful thing, something that works against me every single day. Sometimes, my mind is kind to me, helping me to see myself in a different light. Other times, it’s like a lion stalking its prey and it waits until I’m exposed, too vulnerable, and then it attacks. I can’t run from my own mind, I can’t combat the things it tells me, or how I feel. I can only pray for salvation from God. He has brought me through so much, he has healed me many times over, yet I still find my mind acting as a powerful weapon against me.

I will continue to fight.

I refuse to let my life be taken from me.

❤ LAFMommy

In Time

I cry for you. I hope for you. I pray for you.

For as long as I can remember I have wanted to adopt. When I was 19 I was told I would never get pregnant, and if I did manage, I would never carry to term. I was diagnosed with HPV, given to me by my rapist, and I started an awful journey of fighting off cancer. It took years, but eventually they said the cells were gone. I was clear. I was still devestated by what I had been told. I had resigned myself to never having my own children.

Before all of this, I knew I wanted to have children that weren’t my own blood. Children that I could help pave a path for in life, and show them unconditional love. Give them the affections they had been so deprived. I just hadn’t taken into consideration that I would never be able to have my own, and that this would be my sole option one day.

Then I met my now husband. Apparently, you shouldn’t believe everything doctors tell you, because God has his plan for you. No matter what tests say, how cut and dry things look, God will make a way. In 2014 God gave me a pregnancy. I was terrified and excited. In 2015, we had our beautiful baby boy, who is now a wild 3 year old. Now, God has blessed us again. We had been trying, and were about to start the fertility medications when I had a positive test. Ecstatic, doesn’t even begin to describe the feeling I had. Our baby is due in August. I love these two more than I could even begin to explain.

Yet, no matter how excited I am, I still feel a piece of me missing. You see, last year, when we thought we couldn’t get pregnant again, I had signed up for adoption sites. I was looking at children every day. I never came across any that I felt an attachment to, so I stopped looking. Then we were pregnant.

Recently, I felt God’s tug at me, I felt like He was speaking directly to me. Was I going crazy ? Was I just imagining this ? The last time I felt and knew He was speaking to me, telling me He had a plan for me, I ignored it. So then, I wake up one morning, and I had received an email. It was an email of a “waiting child” and I was confused. I hadn’t received anything from the sites I had signed up for, I thought all was for naught. So why had I suddenly received this email ? I opened it, and there was that feeling. That immense feeling that I needed this child, and that he needed me. I hadn’t had that feeling last year while looking.

Unfortunately, due to personal circumstances, and maybe a story for another time, this isn’t the child we would pursue. I felt lost again. Why was God placing this child in front of me, and telling me to do it, yet it wasn’t working out ?

Then last week, I started looking at another website. It isn’t common to find babies in our area. Yet, here was this beautiful little boy, and my heart was screaming again. I felt that pull. It isn’t just a tug; this is a drowning, taking you under, can’t breathe, pull. It was so overwhelming. Of course, I immediately sent the picture to my husband. Again, circumstances happened. I have to accept this.

I’m still heartbroken, still devastated. I feel like I’m ignoring God’s plan again. I feel like I’m disregarding what he’s telling me, but I have to accept that sometimes things don’t work out as planned. Eventually, it will. Right now isn’t the time. I recently had a friend tell me, maybe God has moved in me to let me know I’m ready, but for my family there needs to be more. That makes sense. It’s still hard to accept.

So, to the child that isn’t mine. To the beautiful baby waiting for a home. I want you to know, that I love you. You may not be mine, you may not even be part of my family, but I love you, immensely. I have never met you, and I may never, but I cry for you. I hope for you. I pray for you. For as long as I breathe.

❤ LAFMommy

Being Better

Happy New Year !

As always, I see people making their New Year’s Resolutions posts and saying how they want to get in shape or eat healthier, et cetera. While those are great resolutions, how many will stick to them ? Are those the resolutions for me ? No.

I find myself wanting to dig deeper into who I am as a person, mother and wife. I want to better who I am, because honestly, I feel like I could be doing so much better in each of those areas. My resolutions are going to consist of spending more time with my family, less time on social media, and being kinder. This year will focus on paying off debts, and saving more money. Hopefully purchasing our first home, or at least paving solid ground to that home.

Part of my New Year’s Resolutions will consist of not letting my previous “victim” status consume me like it has in past years. I want to be the “survivor” I know I am, the person with a little extra baggage, not the weak and suffering person that can barely handle and hang on to life.

To some these may not be the appropriate resolutions, but for me, I think they’re perfect. I have a lot of work to do on myself, but I am hopeful that I can at least do half of what I am aiming to do.

So, here’s to the New Year and the things we can accomplish.

❤ LAFMommy

In need of a reprieve

I went to church last week for the first time in over a year. My husband and I went and we let our son go into the daycare area, while we attended the service. 

The church has set up home at a local middle school, so they hold service in the auditorium. I’ve noticed this has become something more churches are doing. So anywho, instead of pews, like I was used to growing up, they had folding chairs set up, and we sat in the back row. Now, when I say back row, I don’t mean against a wall. There was plenty of room for people to stand and walk behind us, of course, this leaves someone like me open to an anxiety attack. And have an anxiety attack I did. It wasn’t one that everyone could visibly see, I don’t well with keeping it harnessed within myself, but I struggled. Eventually, I was able to calm down, the service ended and we collected our son. 

Tomorrow is Sunday and I intended on going to the service. The problem is, my husband has to work so I’ll be going alone. It’s a quarter after one and I’m still laying here, awake, and working myself into a frenzy, because I’m so worried about going alone. I’m having an anxiety attack before I even step place into the school for the service.

A place that I should feel safe and comfortable, and I can’t even get a grasp long enough to sleep and then go. I’m questioning whether I’ll even be able to pull myself out of bed early enough tomorrow to go now, because not only will I be tired from lack of sleep, but anxiety attacks are exhausting. My son had so much fun last week though, and I know he was looking forward to going tomorrow too, so I feel bad for possibly canceling his fun time at church.

I struggle like this everyday, with self inhibiting anxiety and stress. Will there ever come an end to it ? It’s absolutely frustrating and beyond draining. 

What am I supposed to do ?

❤ LAFMommy

Writing

So I know I don’t write regularly on here, and I wish I did. I just always feel like no one wants to hear about my every day life, especially when most of it consists of being at home.

Recently, I have taken to writing FanFiction. I have never written beyond college papers, and I definitely haven’t written for the eyes of other people. Besides my blog, of course. I feel like my FF writing can be dissected more critically and judged harshly in comparison to my blog. I want to write stories people enjoy reading, while focusing on my favorite fictional world. Which, of course, is Harry Potter.

I started writing, and then hit a major bout of writer’s block and didn’t write for nearly 3 weeks. I was so disappointed in myself, and thought that I wasn’t going to be able to continue the story. However, I had a moment yesterday where I was able to sit down and the words started flowing. I was so excited and posted the newest chapter last night, which seems to be liked by many people. I feel accomplished and I only have 3 chapters so far. It’s nice to have finally found something I enjoy and I don’t have to leave my house and try to face my anxieties to do it.

I’m going to start chapter 4 tonight and see what I can come up with. If anyone is interested in reading my story, just let me know. I’m hoping I can start another soon, I already have an idea for it, but we’ll see.

Until next time.

❤ LAFMommy

Struggles

I’m contemplating on a new tattoo, or a couple. I’m behind on getting the semicolon tattoo, although it is something I have been longing to get since the Semicolon Tattoo Project began. 

I haven’t been able to make up my mind on exact placement nor if I just want the semicolon itself or anything with it. 

Suffering from PTSD and depression doesn’t come without thoughts of suicide and no longer existing in a world that can be so cruel. It’s a hard pill to swallow, but the thoughts are much more frequent than I would like to admit. Sometimes, it just seems it would be easier, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I have too much to look forward to, to let suicide take over. It’s permanent. I plan to experience every bit of Tristan’s life, and if I’m not alive I can’t do that. I refuse to give up, no matter how hard I struggle. No matter how hard my mind or my illnesses fight against me. 

My last major depressive episode was from January to almost April, the winter months are always the hardest. Seasonal depression. I fought so hard, but for a majority of that time I didn’t think I would win. It’s impossible to come out unscathed; with worry of the next time already etched in ones brain. I’m determined to continue fighting, even though the next episode, I know, will creep up on me at some point. 

To those that read my blog, if you suffer, you aren’t alone. Some days are hard as hell and feel like there’s only one way out, but then there are the good days. Those days are what motivate me to keep pushing. Keep looking for that glimpse of hope; grasp even the smallest light in your life and hold on. The fear and the episodes; they won’t last forever. 

And I’ll be someone you can reach out to, even in my own struggle. 

❤ LAFMommy