Bitterly helpless

My good days no longer outweigh my bad. I no longer have a bad day and say, “it’s okay, because tomorrow will be better.” Because it won’t. I frown more than I smile. I shout, yell and scream more than I hold casual conversation. I break down on a more than regular basis. I cry over small things, like spilling some of the milkshake out of the blender a few minutes ago. I get very angry and then I get upset and feel incompetent. I need therapy, I need help, but where do I turn ? Support is sparse when people close to you don’t understand, and when the doctors only want to shove medications down your throat. I want to feel better, I want to be better. I don’t want to hide my feelings and my emotions in a fog of pretend. I don’t even talk to people about this, I know what they think. “Oh, she’s fine, she’ll get over it.” It doesn’t work that way, I’m broken. Forever crippled by my trauma. 

❤ LAFMommy

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Depression can suck it

The world is full of two kinds of people; people pleasers and those waiting to be pleased. 

I used to be the type of person that wanted to be pleased. Of course, I went into the military at 18 and had that knocked right out of me. In the past years, I’ve become the person that pleases everyone. Literally. Everyone. No matter who the person is, I feel like I have to make them smile, like when they leave from my presence or mine theirs, they should be happy. A person could be horrible to me, and I will still try to make them happy. I bite my tongue, I hold back my anger, and I no longer do anything for me.

Where does it stop ? I feel like my depression and anxiety have played a big part in this. I felt like I would be happy if everyone around me was. I felt like it would help the depression melt away. I found this to have the opposite effect and it doesn’t help me at all. 

The last few days I have been reflecting on my life and trying to decide what I want to change. 

After I had my son I fought with PPD. I loved my baby, and I hated everyone else. I cried over anything, I was like a jack in the box; my handle was turning and turning until I finally popped with emotion. I would look in the mirror and hate who was looking back at me. I always found something to be disgusted at: my hair, my skin, stretch marks, being out of shape because I just had a baby; anything. 

So today, I made the decision to start working out. Now, I don’t particularly like going to the gym, it’s too busy, and it sends my anxiety on a wild roller coaster, so going alone was definitely not an option. I decided to grab my weights and hit the living room. I’m out of shape, so it hit me quickly, but just that 30 minutes helped me feel better. My son even joined in, and let me tell you, his squats are the cutest I have ever watched. I’m sore, but it will help in the long run. 

Part of my decision was made because I’m in physical therapy. My trauma and having a baby caused some muscular issues so I’m doing pelvic floor PT. I won’t go into detail, but it’s like having a masseuse and chiropractor in one. I need to strengthen my core and start feeling better about myself in order to help my PF so I made up my mind today. Everyone has to start somewhere, right ?

Anywho, everyone around me seems to be working out and on “health trends,” but I didn’t want to do it because of everyone else. I needed to do this for me. So I am. It took time for me to finally make the decision to work out, but I already feel great about it. 

I’m trying to be someone that is not a complete people pleaser anymore but also not a person that is sitting and waiting for people to please me. I just want to be someone in the middle. 

I want to be happy. 

❤️ LAFMommy

A delicate flower

6 months. 6 freaking months.

The amount of time that the judge felt was appropriate to give a RAPIST. He did not sell weed, he didn’t steal a candy bar. He raped a woman, he stole her life, her comfort, her being. He took everything from her that made her, her, and all he received; 6 months.

That’s like a slap on the hand of a toddler that keeps getting into the oven drawer and pulling out pans. It doesn’t teach anything. It isn’t a punishment. It’s an open invitation to do it again. It says, “Oh, no one minds if I stick my fingers or my penis in a place it doesn’t belong, it’s okay, I can do it again.” It teaches other rapists or would-be rapists that it is okay to rape a woman. Go ahead, rape her, you’ll get 6 months in jail and then you can go back to your wonderful life. All the while, she has to suffer through nightmares, panic attacks, self esteem and self worth issues. She will fight with living a semi-regular life and have difficulty maintaining any relationships in her life.

He’ll probably go in and serve his easy six months and then get out and return to his pre-rape life. He’ll drink and he’ll party. Then, one day, it will happen again. This time, it will be someone else’s daughter, mother, or sister. Maybe the next time, he’ll get a harsher sentence. Maybe next time he’ll be seen as a rapist, and not just the toddler than pulled the pan out of the oven.

Let’s talk about why. Turner is a white man, upper class, attending Stanford. Judge Aaron Persky is also a white man, upper class, and previously attended Stanford. Of course, he couldn’t let a Stanford student “suffer” in prison, he’s an alumni. Turner is a delicate flower, he’d SUFFER. Oh, you mean like his victim is suffering ?

What does this say about women ? That we don’t matter ? That because we freaking wake up in the morning, we are giving someone permission to violate us ? Women have fought for equality for a long time. Then, we get a massive slap in the face when a Judge gives a 6 month sentence to a rapist. Equality doesn’t mean that a man can rape a woman and get away with it. Had she done the same to him, she’d have received a harsher sentence.

I’ve been raped. I know how it feels to be stripped of everything. I don’t know what it’s like to go to trial and face such a huge demon head on. I don’t know what it’s like to look your rapist in the eye and confront them in front of a courtroom full of people, and still watch them only get 6 months when all is said and done. However; I do know the endless suffering day to day. I know what it feels like to want justice and not get it. I was too scared to speak up about what happened, and this beautiful woman did. She done what so many others haven’t been able to do. Yet, all she gets is 6 months. Pathetic. Where is her justice ?

❤ LAFMommy

 

[in]Sane

Occasionally I go to your Facebook. I look to see where you live, if it still says the same place as the last time I read it. I scroll through your posts, the ones I can see to see if there is any hint of any new information about you. I study your pictures carefully, remembering the shape of your eyes, the creases in your face.

It isn’t that I want to remember that smirk that you make, or the way you sound when you speak. I don’t want to remember how you smell or how sick I get when I even think of your name. In fact, I don’t want to remember you at all, anything about you. But I have no choice. 

You gave me no choice, no say. 

I struggle to remember every day things, but I remember everything, every little thing, that you did. I remember like it was yesterday. I have no choice but to remember. 

I try to forget, I honestly do. I can’t. So if I can’t forget and I can’t live a normal pre-rape life, then I’m going to etch every inch of your face into my memory. I want to prevent ever seeing you, or you seeing me. Look at that, you even took my sanity. Just when I thought I hadn’t lost almost every bit of myself to what you did to me, I find another part of me that you took. You made me crazy. I try to get my pieces back every day, but you’re holding them hostage it seems. 

I need to know, how do I get my pieces back ? 

❤️ LAFMommy

One year

I haven’t written a blog in a little over two weeks. I can’t believe it’s been that long already ! My last two weeks have been so overwhelmingly busy. 

We celebrated our son’s first birthday on the 6th. My husband and I took him to the zoo, we decided against a big party, and wanted something more personal and intimate for the three of us. We had so much fun and it was definitely the start of a tradition. We also had smash cake pictures done the week before his birthday. They were circus themed and I special ordered his outfit. Oh, I was in love ! Tristan had so much fun playing and we had so much fun watching ! 

Tristan turning one was a big deal for me, as I am a first time mom, and this first year has gone so quickly. I can’t believe how big my little giant is already. 27 pounds and 32.25 inches tall, isn’t that a big toddler ? Where did my baby go ? I don’t think I ever even had one ! He hasn’t just grown this past year, but he has learned so much. I can’t believe how incredibly intelligent he is, and I’m not just being bias, I don’t think so anyway ! He has taught me so much since the day he was born, and he doesn’t even know. 

Right along with Tristan turning one, another big goal has been marked on the calendar. I exclusively breastfed him until he was 7 months old, which is when he decided he wanted to start eating solids. He wasn’t much for baby food, but always wanted to try what we were eating. He still nurses like a mad man, but he eats everything in sight and I allow him to have water diluted juice or plain water here and there. He never took to bottles, I was unable to pump any milk. He recently started using sippy ups.

I love that he looks to me for comfort. I set goals of 3 months, 6 months, 9 months and a year. So far, we have soared through each goal and have worked toward the next easily. The next goal is 15 months. I want him to self wean, when he’s ready, and I will accept his decision. It will definitely be bittersweet but at least I will know that I was able to sustain a life and give comfort when it was needed. I put his life first, a sacrifice that was all too easy to make. 

I recently submitted my application to become a breastfeeding counselor, and I have all my fingers and toes crossed that they accept my application. I would love the opportunity to help educate others and provide a support system to other mothers. Since I am unable to work, this would be an excellent journey for me to embark on. I am so excited ! 

Well, mommydom calls ! 

Follow your dreams and create goals !

❤ LAFMommy

Just wait…

“Just wait until he can walk.”

This is the line I commonly heard after Tristan started crawling. Of course, I heard the same thing about crawling before he started that as well. I hear this line before any new task or milestone he hits. 

Okay, maybe you had a wild child and it drove you crazy when they learned something new, but not me. I love these moments, I live for them. Seeing him grow and learn, I feel completely blessed to have the ability to be here for all of it. Look at the parents that do not get to see their children grow. Stop making milestones seem like hindrances or curses, love each one. 

Something else that bothers me. 

“Oh, you want HOW MANY children ? Just wait, you won’t want that many.” 

Yes, yes I will. I want four children. No matter how unorganized or wild my home may be, I will still want that many children. That’s just the unbiological ones, I want to adopt as well ! 

I want a large family. I grew up an only child, technically. I had siblings that I didn’t really know and then it was also just my mom and I 90% of the time. Why is having multiple children so frowned upon ? If they don’t go without and they are in a happy, healthy and loving home, what is the problem ? Stop making parents feel like they are wrong for wanting more children or for being happy for their children they do have. 

I just find it so rude to look down upon people and feed them your opinion when they probably don’t care to hear it anyway. Just because you were so miserable in your lonely lives, does not mean my family has to be, and we won’t be. We will have a large family and we will love and cherish every milestone. We will have amazing memories for the rest of our lives. We will teach our children how to love positively and how to live, and it doesn’t matter how large our family is. 

I love my wild, unorganized, crazy family. 

❤️ LAFMommy

Through and through

I grew up an only child. My mom, being a single mom, had to have baby sitters for me sometimes. I remember one baby sitter I had had children of her own and there were children next door that we would play with. I was pretty young, and growing up I forgot about all of this.

When I got into high school I started making more friends. I then made mutual friends through current friends, everyone knows the process. So anyway, I would go stay with my friend all the time and we talked about growing up and I told her and her parents how I randomly remembered I used to have a babysitter on their street. Come to find out, the babysitter was right next door. How ironic that the next door kids I used to play with while at the baby sitter’s house would wind up being my “second family” when I got older. 

They remembered me as “the weird kid”, and I was weird. These people have come to mean so much to me and I could not ask for a better second family. 

Now, the reason for this story. My best friend, Caitlin, has been my best friend for years and years. We have been through so much. She has always been the friend I can go to with anything and she will not judge me nor hold it against me. I have always introduced her to people as my sister, and I even introduce her siblings as mine. I call her parents mom and dad because they have always been there for me too, going above and beyond what typical parents of friends do. 

Four years ago she was pregnant. We had a falling out, and one thing I regret is not being there for her. This month is Caesarean section awareness month, and she wound up having to have an emergency c-section. She and her baby nearly died. In a time that she needed her friends and family most, I was not there. Now, I am there if she needs me, and although I cannot get that lost time back, I do not plan on missing out again. 

Birth is a beautiful thing. For women to be able to give up their bodies as a home for a baby is completely selfless. I loved my natural birth, but let me say, c-sections are a completely different story. Yes, I had some pain after my son was born, but imagine the pain from a c-section. Having someone slice you open to get your baby out. This is an extreme form of birth, one that I cannot imagine having to go through, and I have so much respect for her. Caitlin went through this, not only once, but twice. She selflessly allowed them to cut her open even though she would have a scar and even though she would have pain to deal with after. 

I see things like, c-sections are not real birth. Get real. They are by far more invasive than a natural birth. She carried, nourished and grew a baby inside of her. She had an opening created to birth her baby. This is birth. She is an amazing woman for this. Every woman that has had a c-section is amazing. 

Embrace what you have done, your selfless act, because you are beautiful. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. 

I love my sister. She is incredibly strong willed, and beautiful through and through.

❤ LAFMommy