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 if 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

Advertisements

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

Post Surgery Feels

So I had my surgery yesterday. I’m still fighting with the lightheadedness, but yesterday I couldn’t shake the nausea. I’m having some pain, but the painkillers are helping a lot. I was struggling to eat; my mom made me toast last night and it felt like a huge chunk of cotton. 

Anywho, I found out I do have endometriosis. The doctor said we’ve found it early enough that I have some good options, which include; medicinal or surgery. I don’t have my follow up appointment for 2 weeks and we’ll go over everything then, but I’m leaning toward the medicinal option, of course. I don’t particularly want to have another surgery so soon. 

As much as I hate knowing I have this.. condition, it makes me feel better to know that there’s actually something going on and it isn’t in my head. I have days where I’m curled up on the floor in so much pain, I can’t even voice words to explain what’s going on. I knew it was real, so now others do as well. I’m just hoping the treatments will help so that I won’t have issues getting pregnant in the future. 

I’m just thankful it isn’t any worse than it is, because I know it could have been so much more. Now, if only this lightheadedness would go away ! 

❤ 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

 

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