Mommin' It Up!

January 16, 2009

Survivitude

O hai, I’m still here. Thank you for all your kind comments and prayers yesterday. They really meant a lot to me. Especially those who let me know I’m not alone.

I hate to be a Debbie Downer, and those of you who read often (you rock!) know that I’m usually very upbeat. But I’ve truly not been myself these days. And I’m trying to figure out how to deal with that, and be as much of me as I can be, but also be authentic with you. So, thanks for traveling down this (hopefully short) road with me.

Yesterday was a good day. My mommy came over and took care of me. She brought me lunch, bon bons, and an InStyle Magazine. I sure am glad we never cut the cord! She took Joshua out for a few hours so I got to take a nap when Sophie napped. Then my sweet brother & sister-in-law brought us dinner. I can’t tell you how much it helped not to have to prepare meals. For some reason, even making a pb&j sandwich is still very daunting.

I called my doctor, I got a new prescription, and hopefully all will go well with that. We shall see. If not, I’m content at this point to get off the Pill altogether and just deal with my terrible cycle. At least that was an enemy I was familiar with.

Thank you for hanging in there with me. I love you for it! And I have a special treat for you. I’m back to my old self over at Sarcastic Mom today. I wrote a guest post for her a couple of weeks ago, and it’s posted today. So for some classic old-time-Jenny-fun, go check it out! Then, you will understand why I’m letting Sophie tear up packing peanuts all over my floor right now.

Oh, and if that’s doesn’t do it for ya, check out our “greatest hits” page. Some of my all-time favorites from our archives. I promise you’ll enjoy.

January 15, 2009January 14, 2009

Wicked Afternoon

The battle against my hormones, or the ones I’ve been putting in my body anyway, is raging on. It’s the last week of my cycle, (you know what THAT means) so I’m not taking them anymore. And based on the past couple of horrible days I’ve had, and your kind comments on my earlier post, I’m not going to take them anymore.

Because the afternoons, oh, the afternoons are killing me.

I’ll start out a day okay, make it through lunch, and then after I put Sophie down for her nap around 2:00, when I should be so relieved to have a small break, it starts.

Anxiety. Insecurity. Negativity.

By about 4:30 or 5:00 I’m totally buried beneath its weight. The thought of cooking dinner seizes me with fear. It seems too overwhelming, and even contemplating it makes me feel…I can’t describe it. Doomed, almost. Which seems crazy. And is.

Everything the kids need me to do for them is almost physically painful. Turning on a tv show, filling a sippy cup, wiping a snotty nose. It feels almost as if they are trying to hurt me by making me do things for them.

Joshua wants to know what’s wrong with me. I just tell him I don’t feel good, because I don’t know the answer. But it’s something…something I hope will pass out of my system very quickly.

When my husband gets home I retreat again to the bedroom. Where no one needs me, I can start to calm down. Here, little eyes won’t tear up if I start to sob over not being able to find the remote control. As wicked afternoon turns to wicked evening, here I can try to pull it together, and hope.

Hope that tomorrow afternoon will be kinder.

In the middle of writing this, I read my friend Elizabeth’s blog, and was reminded, thankfully, that my bedroom is not the only place I can run when I am feeling this way. I may not understand what I am going through, but God does. And He can see the end of it. Hallelujah.

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and LEARN FROM ME, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. Matthew 11:28, 29

January 13, 2009

Crying Over Spilt Milk. And Lots of Other Things.

A few months ago, I posted this ultra-classy post about how my hormones were killing me. Headaches, huge zits, etc. – I was dying to wean Sophie so I could start taking the birth control pill to even things out.

Well.

Talk about your all-time backfires.

I started taking it (a kind I’d never taken before) for the first time in five years, almost four weeks ago. Within just a couple of days I started feeling…bad. Nausea, headaches, the occasional puking. It felt kinda like I was pregnant. (When I told Emily about my symptoms, she said, “Congratulations! When are you due?” I would have smacked her, but we were on IM. Let me assure you I am definitely not pregnant.)

I kept taking it, perservering, promising I would get through a whole cycle before I gave up on it. This is the last week of that cycle, and I’m anxious to see if this little pill will make my period any less torturous. It better, because the rest of this month has been AWFUL. Even worse than the physical symptoms have been the emotional ones. I have felt, on and off this month, like I need a stay at the funny farm. I’ve felt depressed, anxious, scared, and just plain irrational. All of it combined is making me feel absolutely CRAZY. Which is not fun.

Yesterday was one of the worst days I’ve had this month. I had a terrible headache all day, and then around 4 pm or so it started to get better…but I started to get really emotional. I tried to turn on PBSKids.org for Sophie, and the volume on the computer wouldn’t work. Sophie freaked out, and I sobbed. (Which did not help Sophie feel better in any way.) I was getting dinner ready and found Sophie had climbed on a chair in the dining room and spilled Joshua’s milk all over the table. I wept as I cleaned it up. A few minutes later I boo-hooed over not being able to get the jar of spaghetti sauce open.

Seriously.

After Bobby came home from work, I pretty much just went to bed. I watched “Tommy Boy” and played Yahtzee on my computer (nerd alert!). I just needed to be…away.

So, we’ll see how this week goes, but I gotta say, at this moment, I don’t think I have the nerve to start next month’s pack of pills. I hate to try another kind and have it not work out either, but…I’m not sure what else to do. I’d rather go back to my pre-pill version of normal crazy than this hopped-up-on-hormones crazy. Coo-Coo-ville, Population Me, is not a fun place to reside.