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

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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