Boy oh boy has life been rough!
It's funny- because Ryan got home in February- and I think a part of me just expected that once Ryan was home all of the problems would be over. And according to cultural standards, really everything should be fine. I have my husband back after all, so what is their to be sad about? What is their to be depressed about? What could possibly drive you to a point of wanting to drink so much alcohol- that the next morning you can't even wake up to your own babies crying- that your husband- who just got done fighting for our country- has to do your job?
That last (run-on) sentence is a place I never thought I'd find myself. I always fantasized about being a mom. I know- I know- kind of a stretch to call it a fantasy because being a mom is a real thing. When I use the word fantasize I mean, I unrealistically thought of how I could juggle being this fun, cool mom, who always had the house cleaned, who always baked the best cookies, and her family was perfect. If most of you are wondering if I've ever seen the Stepford Wives- the answer is no. If most of you wonder if I've put all my stock into being a Stepford Wife/mother- the answer is yes.
Two weeks ago- my counselor asked me to think about one thing: what would it look like if your house of cards fell down? What would it look like if their was an illness, or perhaps a financial crisis, or if Ryan got deployed again.
A week later I got my answer, when my oldest child (2) threw one of her temper tantrums,and had a seizure for the 3rd time in her short life. This seizure was much more scary than any other had been- even though I had Ryan here with me. Because Ryan being there didn't stop the seizure. And Ryan couldn't save her. I couldn't save her.
I'll spare you the details but in short- we later found out that our daughter has epilepsy. And suddenly- those cards fell right down to the ground. I didn't love my daughter any less- if anything, if it's possible, I came to love her more. But the rug beneath my feet was swept out from under me. All last week I spent tossing my feelings left and right, grappling with everything that had happened to me in the last five years of my life.
And now I'm left to face the reality: I haven't forgiven myself for the baby that I miscarried last November.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Life of a Married, but Single Mother
Sometimes, I feel like no one understands me. But then I feel like sometimes, I don't even understand myself. I find myself often questioning my feelings, impulses, and why I chose the life I chose. Don't get me wrong, I love my kids (Brynnlynn is almost 2 and Brydon is almost 1), and I love my husband more than life itself. But it's weeks like this.... moments like these...... and feelings this strong, that make me think that somewhere in my life I took a wrong turn.
At first, I thought having feelings like this made me a bad mother. Made me a bad wife. So I never let myself feel this way. And when I did feel this way. I would release these feelings the only way I knew how. By drinking. Wow, just writing those two words down, I feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest. On the outside, I am this put together mother, and marine wife, who survives the impossible, and manages raising two kids, working part time, and still finding time to not gain a pound, for fear that if my husband returns to a fat girl, he will leave for someone better.
But the reality, I have been struggling with alcohol consumption for several years. More recently, has it began to really consume my life. To me, alcohol is my escape. It's the only thing in my life I can control. I can't control when my kids are going to go to bed, I can't control when my husband will be back from overseas, I can't control my emotions. But I can control my drinking. I can stop when I want to , which makes me think I may not be an alcoholic, but I don't have a desire to stop, which makes me think I am an alcoholic. I don't know what I am anymore.
I am sure a lot of you are reading this, judging me. Thinking how could I do this to myself, get wasted at night to numb my mind, knowing that my kids are very well asleep in the next room. Trust me, I am judging myself much more than you. Not a day goes by that I don't think someone could do this job better. Not a day goes by that I don't wish I was a better mother to them.
A lot of you know that I miscarried in November. I was about 15 weeks pregnant. I didn't keep that a secret, I was very open about that. What I wasn't open about, and what I have been hiding from all of you, is guilt. The night before the miscarriage, I drank half a bottle of wine. I am solely responsible for the death of my unborn child. It wasn't an accident, it wasn't stress from my husband being gone. It was my selfish choice to escape reality, rather than deal with the reality that I am someone's mother. I let my unborn child down. I let my husband down. I let my family down.
I have been going to counseling, and all that I've deducted from all of this so far is I am a mess. I am an emotional basket case. On the one hand it makes me grateful to have found a man to love me in spite of it. On the other hand, there's a fear in me that someday, it will be too much for even him to bear.
I am writing this blog because, I want everyone to know- that even when someone's life seems perfect. Even when it seems like, on the outside, they are completely together, on the inside, someone is screaming. Someone is raging angry at the world. Someone is consumed by fear, consumed by grief, and consumed with an idea that at the end of the day, someone could do your "job" at life better than you. Writing seems to be my only "healthy"escape at the moment. I will be posting several blogs throughout my journey, my journey of recovery. My journey of learning exactly who I am, who I was made to be, and who I hope to be. Thank you for joining me in that journey! This won't be the funniest, most interesting thing you've ever read, but I hope that if anything, I can inspire someone else who is fighting an internal battle, to start fighting it externally.
Love,
D.
At first, I thought having feelings like this made me a bad mother. Made me a bad wife. So I never let myself feel this way. And when I did feel this way. I would release these feelings the only way I knew how. By drinking. Wow, just writing those two words down, I feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest. On the outside, I am this put together mother, and marine wife, who survives the impossible, and manages raising two kids, working part time, and still finding time to not gain a pound, for fear that if my husband returns to a fat girl, he will leave for someone better.
But the reality, I have been struggling with alcohol consumption for several years. More recently, has it began to really consume my life. To me, alcohol is my escape. It's the only thing in my life I can control. I can't control when my kids are going to go to bed, I can't control when my husband will be back from overseas, I can't control my emotions. But I can control my drinking. I can stop when I want to , which makes me think I may not be an alcoholic, but I don't have a desire to stop, which makes me think I am an alcoholic. I don't know what I am anymore.
I am sure a lot of you are reading this, judging me. Thinking how could I do this to myself, get wasted at night to numb my mind, knowing that my kids are very well asleep in the next room. Trust me, I am judging myself much more than you. Not a day goes by that I don't think someone could do this job better. Not a day goes by that I don't wish I was a better mother to them.
A lot of you know that I miscarried in November. I was about 15 weeks pregnant. I didn't keep that a secret, I was very open about that. What I wasn't open about, and what I have been hiding from all of you, is guilt. The night before the miscarriage, I drank half a bottle of wine. I am solely responsible for the death of my unborn child. It wasn't an accident, it wasn't stress from my husband being gone. It was my selfish choice to escape reality, rather than deal with the reality that I am someone's mother. I let my unborn child down. I let my husband down. I let my family down.
I have been going to counseling, and all that I've deducted from all of this so far is I am a mess. I am an emotional basket case. On the one hand it makes me grateful to have found a man to love me in spite of it. On the other hand, there's a fear in me that someday, it will be too much for even him to bear.
I am writing this blog because, I want everyone to know- that even when someone's life seems perfect. Even when it seems like, on the outside, they are completely together, on the inside, someone is screaming. Someone is raging angry at the world. Someone is consumed by fear, consumed by grief, and consumed with an idea that at the end of the day, someone could do your "job" at life better than you. Writing seems to be my only "healthy"escape at the moment. I will be posting several blogs throughout my journey, my journey of recovery. My journey of learning exactly who I am, who I was made to be, and who I hope to be. Thank you for joining me in that journey! This won't be the funniest, most interesting thing you've ever read, but I hope that if anything, I can inspire someone else who is fighting an internal battle, to start fighting it externally.
Love,
D.
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