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 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

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

Escape

I started my blog in November of 2015. My initial intention was to post regular updates of my life with post traumatic stress disorder, however; I found this a rather tedious task. You see, it’s difficult to remain focused on something, no matter how important, when you suffer from something like this. Then there was the issue that I felt I was posting too much negativity and that I needed to post more “happiness.”

Nearly two years later and I find myself wondering why I don’t post more of the hindering, mentally crippling days that I have. What if someone is going through the exact same thing I am, but I failed to post it, so they think they’re alone ? I could post brighter days too, when I have them. I need to use my blog more, I should be using it to jot down my thoughts, feelings, and my every day surge of emotions that I typically struggle through. I suppose I find myself embarrassed by the sufferings I go through due to the PTSD.

So now I ask myself..

Why not use my outlet as an escape ? Why not let my mind be free for a few moments a day ? I need this. I deserve this.

❤ LAFMommy

Night

Lately I have been more anxiety ridden. There’s plenty going on in my life to bring upon these anxious moments, as there always is. However; lately, it’s been moreso.  

Along with the anxiety and the frequently appearing panic attacks, are nightmares. Not the normal nightmares that one can recover from quickly, but the ones that leave me fighting for air and covered in sweat, or tears; I haven’t deciphered which it is yet. Possibly both. The nightmares that leave me with internal screaming that is begging for release. The nightmares that keep my eyeballs from seeking refuge behind their lids, that has me staring into a dark abyss of black, feeling as if the walls are slowly closing in on me. I’m left to inhale my breaths as if they’ll be my last, as if I can’t get my chest to expand further to accommodate my need. I fight against my own body, or it fights against me, in whether to lay still out of fear, or to run because the anxiety makes my body ache for movement. Laying there, praying that I’ll forget the last nightmare or that maybe it’s the opposite and I’ll remember this one to know what caused the turmoil this time. I close my eyes, just for the terror to begin again and again and again, until eventually, the sun is coming up and I’m beyond exhausted. Or I close my eyes, and envision new nightmares, new anxieties, or the same ones with different scenes. Each time they grow darker, more frightening, more crippling. Nightmares so vivid I wake up still seeing them, as if they exist again or for the first time, right there in front of me, they’re happening. 

Fear is real for me. It is a never ending cycle, that grasps me like a predator searching out its prey. One day, I fear, it will grab hold and never let go. 

Is there truly an escape from these fears that become so real in the night ? 

❤ LAFMommy

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

Just a man

Five years old. 

That’s how old I was the first time he left. 

At four years old, my mom married a man, who soon after, adopted me. He took on the rights and responsibilities of being my dad and said he would take care of me. He made a promise to be committed to me and love me; always. Unfortunately, he did not keep his promise. 

Not only did he leave my mom’s side during the divorce, he left mine as well. Over the years he met someone, they married and wound up having their own daughter. Through this he would come around for a few months and then he would disappear again. I was only a child, and I could not understand why he did not come around, why he wanted to cause me so much pain. For years I could barely look at myself in the mirror, I blamed myself for his absence. I must have done something horrible for my father to not want me, right ? For nearly twenty years he broke my heart. Over and over and over. 

I fell into a self hate lifestyle, which quickly turned into hating men. The first man to ever break my heart was my father, so why would I trust another man. I was so mentally destroyed by him that I was afraid to have children. I felt that I would be like him and be unable to commit to a child or that I would be with a man that could not handle the commitment. I refused to raise a child in a home without a parent. 

I met my husband and I had severe trust issues. He worked hard to prove to me that he was not going to leave me like my dad did. Eventually, he restored trust that had been long gone. He showed me that any children we may have had he would be there for always. When we found out we were pregnant I overwhelmed. I was excited but I was also scared. I remember questioning if my husband wanted children, if he was ready. He made me feel confident that we would be great parents, that our children would never know what it was like to grow up feeling unloved. 

For years I blamed myself for my dad’s absence. For years I did not know how to love or respect myself, because he was never there to teach me. Finally, upon having a child of my own, I have learned these characteristics. I have embraced the love I should have for myself and I hold onto it daily. I love my husband more than ever and I love myself more than I ever thought possible. 

I had never known love from a father, but the love I have for my son is astounding. Every day I fall in love with this beautiful little boy. I will no longer allow my father’s failures to define who I am, and I refuse to allow it to take away from my family.

If I were to ever speak to him again, I would tell him thank you. Thank you for being absent. The bond between my mother and I growing up shaped me into a wonderful person. The fear I had of men, and the lack of trust for them helped me to find an amazing husband. Thank you, because your absence taught me what type of parent I wanted to be. I wanted to be present. I wanted to experience every single thing I could; never missing a beat. 

So, thank you absent father for being just a man to me. Because of this, I am more than just a mother. 

❤ LAFMommy

Anxiously Waiting

Yesterday I went to go renew my son’s health insurance. I could have mailed in the renewal form, but I needed to include a copy of his birth certificate and a copy of his social security card. I did not want to take any chances of either of these getting into the wrong hands, so I went to their office. 

As soon as I walked in, I regretted my decision of going. The office was packed; almost every seat had a body, and there were screaming children every where. We took a number and then a seat and we waited. Tristan was very well behaved, playing with me and watching the other people, and for that, I was appreciative. 

However; the longer I sat, the more anxious I became. I was unable to get a corner seat, where I could safely have my back against the wall and have a view of the entire room. My seat was situated in the very center of the room, in the middle of everyone. I felt so exposed; I had people constantly walking around me, bumping my stroller, or being overly figity near me. 

I was so vulnerable. At one point, I thought a little boy was going to climb into my lap, and it even seemed like he was plotting on stealing my wallet from my diaper bag. He looked to be around the age of 9 or so, and kept getting closer to me and he was not hiding the fact that he was openly looking into my bag, at all. As soon as I zipped my bag closed, he moved away. 

Finally ! They called my number, “63”, and I jumped out of my chair. I had to finish filling out a form while at the counter, and I barely managed to do so, I was shaking so badly. The woman must have thought I was ignorant because she would tell me what to fill out and I would do it incorrectly. She spoke to me as if I were garbage, then I said, “I do not know how you ladies do this every day, I have PTSD, and my nerves are so shot I could vomit.” At that point she became friendly. I rushed to finish everything so I could leave and get back to my comfort zone. 

I was nearly ran off the road on the way home, which did not help my anxiety, and by the time I arrived home I was exhausted. I had a headache hit me, which quickly turned to a migraine, I could barely function. I laid down for a nap, at the direction of my husband, around 8:30. I woke up around 12:30 and was having a panic attack and then had trouble falling asleep. Once I fell back to sleep, I struggled to stay calm and found myself constantly waking in a state of panic. The smallest occurrences can set off my panic, it is like a ticking bomb. I kept waking, feeling like my chest was caving in, unable to catch my breath. 

I suffer every day. I wish I could say this happens once in a while, but I am not that lucky. I go through this many times a week. I cannot control it, it controls me. My disease tells me what to do and how to live. Something that could be such a small trip to one person is like building up and accomplishing a marathon for me, and it is draining. 

It took nearly a month for me to build the courage to go to that office and turn in the information for my son to keep his insurance. Then, it cost me the rest of the day and night to recover from the trip. At least my husband knows how hard it is for me and helps me when I need him. 

It was brutal. Maybe, one day, I will find a trip away from home to be easy. Maybe. 

❤ LAFMommy

Embrace

My favorite time of year is upon us ! Spring ! This means I can open my windows and air out the staleness left behind by a bleak winter. Actually, our winter was not nearly as cold and icy as it usually is, so I was not complaining. However, it was still winter and it kept people inside their homes and it is always depressing. 

With Spring time, our little family gets to go outside and spend time at the park or go to the zoo. I get to clean out my house and prepare for a Yardsale, because, let’s face it, we all tend to accumulate items we do not need. 

I look forward to driving with the windows down and staying cool from the breeze. There is always this feeling of change that brings about happiness when the Spring time comes along. I embrace that feeling. 

Today, I have already cleaned out my garage and now I am laying my son down for a nap and then I want to clean up the basement. Does anyone else have a basement that is basically just a very large laundry room ? That is what we use it for at my house. I am taking this time to get caught up on all the laundry as well. The winter time makes me lazy, so now I have to remedy that laziness with productivity. 

Oh, I just love this time of year ! I wish it could be Spring all year round. 

❤ LAFMommy