Failure

I failed you Jim.  Not because of how your life turned out, but for the brief moment I was in it.  You were a bright light, talented, sweet, committed, and…somehow I failed you.  My light was not bright enough, my thoughts were not inspiring, I was boring, bland, and uninteresting.  I failed you.  I always lied to myself, saying that you found a different love and you had to follow your heart.  I enjoyed watching you explore other sides of your talents.  It was obvious you were comfortable on a stage, and not behind 50 people.  You had to be out front.  I didn’t say what I should have said.  When you left my class, I should have told you how sad I was to see such a good kid go.  I didn’t.  I just simply wished you the best.  I watched you from a distance, saying hi in passing.  Had I been a brighter light, you would have followed.  Had I been better at my job, you would have been inspired.  I don’t think for a moment that had I been better at anything would you be alive today, but, I’m sorry I wasn’t better anyway.

Even now I fail you.  I should be mourning the loss of such a young life.  Lost in stupidity and selfishness of another.  You didn’t know your mother would be coming home shortly afterward, and share the same fate.  You thought you were safe, sleeping in your own house.  And you should have been.  However, my thoughts turn on how I failed you.  You will remain an icon in my life of my own failure.  You are a failure I chose to not admit.  I am now seeing more failure in my own life, which again…is even more failure.  I refuse to fail you though in paying my respects.  It will be hard for me today to come to your wake.  I know it won’t make a bit of difference to anyone if I come or not.  Not even you.  But I will come anyway, because if I don’t, I will have failed you one final time.  At least in my own heart, I can still try not to fail at everything.

Thoughts on life

The last month has been full of ups and downs.  Health wise, I’m still having issues with depression, and my thyroid.  I can’t seem to get this straight.  I started having dental issues about a month ago that I’m still working on getting over.  I ended up having to get two wisdom teeth removed and the recovery has taken longer then I expected.  This wednesday will be a month since they’ve been removed, and my mouth still isn’t pain free.  I’ve gone through two bottles of ibuprofen in this time, and I’m doing my best now to go med free every day.  I’m trying to give my body a break from all the meds. 

Because of the tooth extraction, I haven’t been able to eat the way I’m supposed to.  So I haven’t been taking my supplements, and I haven’t been exercising, because the raise in blood pressure would send me through the roof in tooth pain.  Meaning, my depression is coming back, and as much as I fight the dark feelings, they linger.  They ruin my happiest moments with reminders that it all ends, and that happiness doesn’t last.

This passed week was Thanksgiving, and my family went to Ohio to see my husband’s father and his wife.  The visit was nice, and it was nice to be able to sleep a little extra, and not have to do any house work while I was there.  I can’t say that while I was there I had many depressed thoughts.  Maybe a few.  I was still dealing with tooth pain that I had expected to be gone, and my husband was very good about letting me rest when I needed to.

I came home to a messy house.  I hated that.  But, we cleaned up over the weekend and even put up the Christmas tree.  This time of year is my favorite time of year.  I know every time I end up packing away my Christmas tree, I get sad that its all over again.  But this year, putting it up held no joy.  My head still hurt, and my house was messy so I was irritable.  I also kept thinking about my own lack of faith in anything at the moment.  I was tempted to stop by the church I drive by and speak to a priest.  I wonder if I’d get thrown out.  I’m athiest, and I don’t want to be.  Show me to God…that’s what I would say.  Would I be taken seriously?  I’m tired of being alone, I’m tired of being scared, and at one point in my life, I believed in God.  I wore my cross and I felt closer to Jesus.  I also believed in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny.  They all seem to be fairy tails now, even the bible.  Stories to tell you how to live, but only created from the imagination of a man.

The world is a mystery, I know.  I just can’t get how some people believe with their entire being a faith, live for it, die for it, and kill for it.  This is the path my depressed thoughts take.

Random bitching

I can’t believe it’s been so long since I’ve posted, but I’ll get right down to business.  My mom’s surgery went really well.  She got the absolute best outcome she could have received.  It was a tough week at the hospital, and I spent the night with her for three nights, the first night I slept on the cold hard floor.  I’m glad she’s home, my therapist thinks lots of my dark thoughts were because of my mother’s first fight with mortality.  I’m not so sure, but I’m skeptical lately about everything.

I got a hair sampling done at the beginning of this month, to see if I had any nutrional deficiencies that may be causing my “mild depression.”  Turns out my thyroid function is low, my adrenal gland function is low, and I have this weird ratio going on between calcium and magnesium, which are high, and sodium and potassium which are low.  Apparently this ratio can create havok with the body, and could be the source of my adrenal gland, and thyroid issues.  This therapist said I should forgo my vegetarian diet for now, saying that I didn’t get enough protien in my diet, and for thyroid health I should be eating shell fish, a natural source of iodine.  He also said I have low iron and copper, and that I should be eating red meat.  That was where I drew the line.  I absolute refuse to eat those sweet bovines.  I’ll find my iron elsewhere and stay away from the tea until I get things straightened out.

One of my more recent sources of frustration has been my son.  My son has a brilliant mind, and picks up on books and school work so quickly.  He is beyond a doubt gifted and his school has said so.  He would be in first grade instead of kindergarten if he was more mature.  His social and disciplinary issues are getting in his way so much that this morning we’re taking him to the doctor to see what’s going on.  His VP says it could be ADD or ADHD.  My son is impulsive, and rarely thinks before he acts.  He is defiant to his teachers, and its difficult for him to make friends.  When I ask him why he misbehaves, his typical answer is I don’t know.  Yesterday he had a pretty good day at school until recess.  That was when he decided he would throw mulch at his classmates, the playground has mulch on the ground.  He threw it at everyone, getting it in their hair, and on their clothes.  He threw it so much at one girl, it got in her eyes and in her mouth and caused her to throw up all over herself.  I don’t know what he was thinking.   He’s never hurt anyone before.  He seemed surprised when I told him she would probably be angry at him, and probably wouldn’t want to be his friend.  After lots of “talking” to him, and saying what if someone did that to you, or your sister, how would you feel kind of thing, I think he may begin to realize what he did.  But even this morning, when my husband talked to him about it, my son didn’t seem to be listening, and asked him if he could have breakfast.  My husband doesn’t think our son loves anyone, and only acts in a certain way so he can get things.  My son is five, of course he loves us.  He adores his sister, and does act protectively around her.

I’m against medicating children for things like this.  I think medications like ritalin dulls the mind, and masks personality.  I don’t mind having a spirited son.  I just want him to think, and that’s my fear is that it’s just a personality flaw.  He just doesn’t think before he acts.  My son is going to grow up to be House or something.  The brilliant asshole no one likes.

And then for my last case of bitching.  Two days ago I found a kitten on the side of the road.  I followed my heart and picked him up and took him home.  It’s likely I saved him from freezing to death, however he is sick.  I think he may have tapeworms, among other parasites, and he’s completely flea-ridden.  I have two other perfectly flea-less pets.  A flea-less house, and a healthy family.  I just didn’t think when I picked up this little guy, thinking I was doing the right thing.  I’ve bathed him every day trying to get the fleas off, and I think I’ve put a dent in the overall population on this little thing.  And I”m glad to see he finally has a pot belly, because he was severly underweight when I picked him up.  He wants to love on me, and tries to rub on my leg when I come in to take care of him. My plan is not to keep him, and I’m trying to stay distant.  If he was healthy I think I’d keep him, but I can’t afford to get him healthy.  So, I’ve found a cat rescue organization that will take him off my hands for me, and help get him healthy and find him a home.

So in a nutshell, that’s my month.  I feel like I go go go every day, and I’m always driving and I never get to clean the house or do anything for myself.  I’m always taking care of other people, and animals and I don’t even get to do anything for myself.  Except maybe go to yoga class, but I’ve been missing that like crazy lately too.  We did buy a treadmill this week, and it should be delivered sometimes next week.  Hopefully that will help me get rid of this extra 50lbs.

Settled in dust

This morning I woke to hearing my daughter call me because she had to go potty.  My husband was already downstairs with my son making him breakfast, so I went to go get her and brought her to the potty.  A hellacious tantrum ensued as she explained she wanted to wear her “jammy jammas” all day.  This blow out of hers lasted almost 30 minutes, and the majority of that time was her spent on her time out chair in her underwear because she refused to get dressed.

While that was going on, the cat shit in the dining room, I yelled at my husband for ignoring the clean dishes in the dishwasher and the pile of dirty dishes in the sink that he ignored.  I couldn’t make coffee if I couldn’t fill the pot with water, right?  My son sat at the kitchen table quietly reading his book, and the poor dog was not let out of his kennel, and he quietly observed the situation as well.  My daughter still screaming, my husband looking at me pleadingly because he needed to leave five minutes ago to go to work, and all I wanted was a cup of coffee before I made breakfast for my daughter, and packed my son’s lunch.

I didn’t fully calm down for an hour.  By the time I reached my son’s school to walk him to his classroom, the dust had settled.  So did my general boredom, and dissatisfaction with my life.  I think it is depression talking, but I feel as though I’m a failure at everything.  My house is dirty, my career has been put on hold, I’m bored as hell all the time, and what little work I’m doing right now, I don’t feel like I”m doing it well.  I have a gig this week, thank GOD.  I have 8 students in my studio where last year at this time I was pushing 20.  I know circumstances have changed, and the economy is changing, and violin/viola lessons are just fluff that people seem to not be able to afford right now.  Sadly for us, that means ends aren’t being met.  We’re slowly sinking in the whole financially, so…there’s another failure for me to add to my list.  I’m not used to failing.  I’ve never failed at anything I”ve tried, yet…now for some reason, I keep failing.  I fail at my weight, I fail at motherhood, I fail at housekeeping, I fail at my career, I fail at being a wife, I fail at being a friend, I fail even at being a pet owner.

Even the darker thoughts of death are starting to creep back in my mind.  I haven’t thought of them very much at all lately, and then last night as I’m getting ready for bed…I look in the mirror and I think its all temporary.  Of course it is, it’s life…it’s not meant to last forever.  But as I’m going to bed, I think of how my bones will sit in a coffin, and slowly decay.  I grab my husband’s hand as I’m drifting off to sleep, and I feel his bones, that I know will one day decay.  Sometimes I’m able to pull myself into a happy place when I fall asleep.  Knowing it’s just a mask over reality just so I can rest peacefully, but I’m getting tired.  I’m tired of pulling tricks just to smile, just to sleep soundly.  Why do I think this way?  Does everyone else think like this?  Is it because my mom is sick?  Oh yeah, I guess I fail at being a daughter too, why not throw being a sucky sister while I’m at it too.

So, here I am settling in dust….dust to dust I suppose eh?

Updates…

I’ve been meaning to write lately, but life has been hectic, and spare minutes have been few.  I’ve been on a roller coaster this month, gone from extreme highs, to extreme lows and various places in between.  I guess I should start with a status on the marriage.  We had an extreme blow out a few weeks ago, which almost ended us completely.  I felt that he didn’t love me anymore, his actions…or lack thereof showed me I was little to be desired.  We had a rare evening alone to ourselves, and in the end my sexual advances to him were ignored, even when I said…”Let’s go upstairs and have sex.”  Apparently he thought I was joking, because we went upstairs and he rolled over and went to sleep.  There were at least two other attempts on my part that night to show him I was truly in the mood.  Once I finally become upset, and tell him how I feel, then of course he tries to come on to me, but by that time, the mood is completley gone, and my feelings are hurt.

The following day I tell him I can’t do it anymore.  My heart has been broken enough, and that I go through phases where I love him, then I’m hurt by him, wall goes up, any feelings I have for him are numbed, to then being hopeful, rinse repeat.  He told me that when I tell him what he’s doing, and he tries to fix things, that he’s not being fake.  He honestly doesn’t know what he’s doing.  He’s “just a guy” right?  Are all men seriously not interested in being lovey with their wife?  Am I an idiot?  Does he love me or not?  Has he fallen out of love and doesn’t want to admit it?  Is he with me for other reasons other then love?  He says he’s not.  He says he can’t live with out me.  Is that because he’s never lived with out someone taking care of him?  He lived with his mom, now me.  That’s it.  Is he in love with his life, and not his wife?  Someone please, tell me.

I think if I were to leave, it would break my heart.  But I know the ins and outs of life, and I would be fine.  I could find a job, find a home and take care of my children.  I would be ok.  Him, however.  He’d be clueless I think.  He’s never paid a bill in his life, and I’m sure he’d tank his credit.  When I met him, it was falling, he was in debt, only because he was careless.  He was pretty stupid with his money, so we decided that I would take care of it.  Together we paid his debts, got him a new car, and out of the lease he was in with his.  I know him though, he’s the take out king, and he would never cook for himself.  He would ring up his credit cards again until he’s blue in the face.  He even told me if I left he’d start smoking again…why?

Well, on the upside, I’m in the hopeful phase.  A guarded love phase.  I’m not numb, but I haven’t completely opened my heart.  I’m tired of it being broken.  I’m truly giving my marriage every ounce of effort that I can.  I know its in the best interests of my entire family if we make this work.  However…I know if it doesn’t, I’ll be ok.  I won’t want to be alone, so…I wonder if I’d just put myself back in the same situation that I’m in.  I know I’m spoiled to a certain degree, but the one thing he doesn’t spoil is my heart.  I’ll give back any gift, any computer, any fancy house, just to know in my heart that I’m loved.  That I’m loved for the right reasons, and wanted.  Is that too hard…for him, it might be.

A little warmer

Well, yesterday was pretty bad, but I wanted to write about some of the things I did that made it better.  No doubt do I think I could possibly have an illness, and I will be discussing this with my therapist this week.  I’m still a firm believer in a holistic approach to health and healing, so I’m not sure what this will do….if anything.

I did do a few things though to pull myself out the darkness, and it was definately hard to do at first.  I made myself some tea (and I do mean St. John’s Wort tea), and had a trusted friend read my blog.  The tea’s effects are not instant, but I think perhaps they are longer lasting then I originally thought.  When I was finished with my tea, I grabbed my dog and took a walk.  That for one, warmed me up, got me out in the sun, and got blood pumping through my veins.  These steps were difficult to take, and its almost like you feel like your walking through jello to get your ass moving.  But today, its a different day.  I feel confident enough to write that I’m feeling a little better.  Going to be tackling one of the bigger messes in my house, that is my kitchen…and that’s better then loafing around feeling sorry for myself.

I will say one important thing.  I have a friend who I’ve been talking to.  I think I practically mention him in every post.  The more I talk with him, the more he gains my trust.  I keep thinking he’s just a temporary friend until he gets tired of me, but…the longer he sticks around, the more and more I think he’s going to be there for me when I need him.  He’s slowly earning my trust, and yesterday…he was my sounding board, suggesting I do things to help myself that I couldn’t have thought of in my state of mind.

So, I’m still battling it.  I’m still trying to kick depression’s butt naturally and pulling in my resources on my low points.  I consider yesterday a success.  I’m still here, and I’m even somewhat cheerful today.  At least I’m hoping to clean house a little bit, and that’s always a good sign.  Either that or I’m pmsing.

Cold

This morning my daughter decided to wake up around 4am screaming in terror.  The night terrors seem to have returned.  Our typical family routine is for my husband to go to the children in the night when they wake up, only because it takes him seconds to fall back to sleep, and I usually will sit there for hours, if I even get back to sleep.  This morning though, he was angry.  He whipped off the blankets, uttered nasty words and stormed off to her room.  He was impatient with her while she was scared, and I ended up going to her myself because he was absolutely no comfort to her.  Her small tirade only went on for about 20 minutes, she went potty, got some water and went back to sleep.  She slept until her normal 7.

I did lie awake for quite some time afterwards.  Dreaded thoughts of death creeped over me, and the feeling that my husband didn’t really like us very much at all, me and the kids.  I tried to brush these thoughts off and I finally managed to doze back to sleep.  However this morning when my son woke up around 7-ish, my husband immediately yelled at him, too.  Telling him to get out of our bedroom, kicking his feet and whining like he was the child.  I tried to snuggle him, but he didn’t really seem interested.  Again, I began to wonder if he’d just rather be at work.

Only after my daughter accidentally spilled his glass of water on our bed did he get up to get a shower, but after he yelled at her too, making her cry in fear.  I grabbed her after he yelled at her, told him she’s only two and its only water.  We stripped the bed, and then I layed her back on it, and held her as she calmed down.  He seemed calmer after his shower, and made us all breakfast.

Here’s were things got weird.  My mood had been simmering at a low state since last night, and his lack of patience when it came to our children.  I view them as extensions of myself, so when he’s impatient with them, it hurts my feelings.  When I took my shower today, I didn’t realize how low I was getting until I stepped out, and was drying off.  I held the towel to my face, enjoying its soft feel, and the lavender fragrance from the wash, and I thought to myself…take this in, experience it…while you can.  My thoughts implying that I would be dying…again, thinking of death.  But this time, I moved onward to think of taking entire bottles of Tylenol to ease the pain…as in suicide.

I tried to shake this, because I’m terribly afraid of death.  I’m even a health nut here, and feeling suicidal just isn’t part of my life.  But, as we were getting ready to go to the park, I sat on the front porch watching my son run around the front yard, and I got this strange detached feeling.  Detached from my life, detached from my family, like I didn’t belong here.  Its like…suicide is haunting me, and I want it to go away.  I don’t want to kill myself.  I like living, my kids need me, and I need them.  I hid the tears for a while, really not sure if they were noticed by anyone but my daughter.  Sitting at the park, she approached me saying “Mommy you sad, you needs my hugs.”  and she’d lay her head on me for bit, before running off to play again.

What in the world is wrong with me?!  I’ve taken my herbal remedies, I sat out in the sun, as a friend told me that could help boost my mood.  I’m beginning to get scared, that while today I was able to see clearly when my mind wandered to suicide, and I became scared of myself…what if I loose that ability at one point?

Ok, breathing here.  My feelings are very easily hurt by my husband.  Yesterday for a while, I thought things were doing good, things were back on track and maybe he did love me, and I would allow myself to love him in return.  I don’t think he means to be a jerk, I think he just doesn’t know it.  He doesn’t know that what hedoes is hurtful to me, that when he tells me that our daughter isn’t agreeable and that she gets that from me….that hurts!  When he leaves all the time, and only seems to be happy and fulfilled when he’s not with us…he seems annoyed by us..unhappy when he’s with us…that hurts.  I can’t hurt anymore, I’m the lowest of the low.  Please stop treading all over my heart.  Its mangled enough as it is, can’t you see it?

He thinks I’m sick, I put on a sweatshirt and yoga pants and its 80 degrees, but I’m cold.  I can’t seem to get warm.  I guess it just matches my heart where its at right now.

Empty or Broken?

Is it better to have an empty heart, or a broken one?

Today I feel like I’m spiralling downward a bit.  I’ve realized that I have either fallen out of love with my husband, or I am just completely numb to any emotions that I may have had for him at one time.  I dug around my room this morning for a picture from our wedding day, and taped it to my bathroom mirror.  He’ll probably think its a loving gesture, and I suppose it is.  What he won’t know is that I’m trying to remember how I felt.  I’m trying to get it back somehow, me being in love with him.  I even looked at my wedding dress this morning, touched it, in hopes that somehow I would feel something.  What I felt, was nothing.

I’ve heard of people say to their spouses, I love you, but I’m not in love with you.  And to so many, that has the lingering feeling of divorce and seperation.  Of cheating, and finding new love.  The reality is, while it may be easy to fall in love, its difficult to stay in love.  I cannot break my husband’s heart, because I know he somehow loves me every day.  I dont’ know how he does it, I don’t think I’m deserving of all of that.  Specially when I’ve realized a shameful secret in my own heart.  I do love him, but I am not in love with him.  I’m sure that if I were actually capable of spending time with him, I’d fall in love with him again.  At least, I hope I would.

For the first time, in almost a month, I looked longingly at my knife set.  To cut the pain out.  This longing also jolted with more pain.  Pain of guilt, knowing my children deserve a mother who is sound of mind and spirit.  I had found companionship briefly, however I am unsure of its permanence, and the wall has gone up for now.  I feel that his wall has gone up, and he shut me out anyway…and I will let him go with out a fight.  So where as before, I was empty, now I am slightly broken.  I will not break though, not until I am no longer needed by the beautiful souls that depend on me.  If it wasn’t for them, right now, I’d probably be gone.  What’s the point, remember?

I guess the question isn’t empty or broken, its a statement.  Empty, and broken.

A fresh look

So, today I went to the therapist for the first time.  I’m on the fence as to weather or not I like her, but I think today was somewhat positive.

I wasn’t sure where to start, so I just started with the things that concerned me the most.  My mother’s illness, and my own age.  To start, my mother’s illness has effected me in so many ways I wasn’t really aware.  My mother has become my best friend in the last 5+ years that I’ve been home.  We had reached a comfortable place in our life that I told her everything, and for the most part she has offered unwaivering support and advice.  With her illness, I’ve talked to her less.  I’ve shared with her less, only because I don’t want the things in my life to worry her.  She is such a worrier.  Her illness has also brought my own mortality to the forefront, which has caused me to re-evaluate my life at every angle.  This, is what is called a mid-life crisis.

Often times, these are accompanied with abrupt changes that will make someone make drastic changes in their life to recapture their youth.  Divorce, the buying of new cars, obtaining a younger mate..etc.  Typically I picture the upper-middle class man, who’s pushing 45-50 with his 24 year old trophy wife, and his red sports car.  Apparently though, these things can happen to a 30 year old house wife, who is alone too much and has the insatiable sex drive that accompanies her at this age.  She told me that often after the dust settles though with this kind of crisis, comes a wiser calm.  Weather changes had been made, or weather things stayed as they were, the re-evaluation process will hopefully leave me a happier, more grounded person.

I will say this.  I am unhappy.  I’m happy when I’m with my kids, but they are not a walk in the park.  Parenthood just isn’t.  I’m unhappy because my husband works so much, and gets no extra compensation for the excess time he puts in, so I’m alone, and broke.  I’m unhappy because I feel like I’ve been thrust into a supportive position in my family, and sacrifices have to be made on my part.  Sometimes these sacrifices are easy to make, other times they hurt.  I’m tired of hurting, I”m tired of loneliness, I”m tired of being depended on and not having anyone else to depend on.  I’m thinking that things will get easier though as I go.  My son now is in school, and my daughter starts school next week.  I’m sad to see them going, but maybe it will give me time to branch out, get my head on straight, and start on a better track.

Anyway, I’m continuing my therapy next week.  Maybe my confident, researcher, kick-butt mom mentality will return, and I can start fighting again.  As for right now, I’m out for the count, and trying to recover.

Stationary solitude

At times solitude can be refreshing.  The quietness, the calm, being still and present.  Other times, companionship is needed, someone who is comforting, solid, and patient, kind…

Its when solitude becomes loneliness is when it becomes troublesome. Its when we become vulnerable, and tempted.  Society has created a trap for us, in our quest for items, space, we’ve lost a sense of community.  There are many people I’m sure who feel isolated in this world of plenty, we’re starved for companionship, because our spouses work too much, family lives too far away, and neighbors keep to themselves.

What is the solution?  Be more outgoing?  Where to start?  I don’t want 100 people who I “chat” with each week.  I want resolute, solid relationships with people who would be lifelong friends, loyal, capable of lifting me when I fall, and vice versa.  Where are the people who will accept other people without judgment.  Does that even exist?  I guess.

I’m tired of being sad, and I’m tired of talking about it.  I think that the people…ok person I’m leaning on will tire of being any support to me, and walk on.  Its getting old to me, and I’m sure its getting old to him too.  I find myself wanting his attention though, and support in a way that may be inappropriate.  The voice in my mind is telling me to stop, back off, it will hurt and not be helpful.  Another thought in my mind knows that he is solid and steady, and would disapprove of my thoughts.  If he knew them, he’d either ignore them, or voice is disapproval and distance himself from me.  If things had been different, I think he would have sheltered me, in ways that I would need it, but…I also don’t feel that I would ever be worthy of that.  So, now I feel that I should probably return to my sorrowful solitude, to smolder what I didn’t mean to exist anyway, for the sake of my family, and my marriage.

So back to being present.  Solitary.  Dreaming of something that will never come to fruition, and smiling about that anyway.