Showing posts with label neurosis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label neurosis. Show all posts
@cosmicgirlie
Something's happening. I'm not sure what it is, or how to deal with it. It's a good thing, trust me, a very good thing. A nice thing. But I don't know how to handle the situation.

If anything, she'd probably just tell me to go with the flow. She'd probably just say that it's ok. Don't stress about it. It's normal. People make good friends all the time. I know that. Of course I know that! Like, DUH, I know people make good friends.

I'll probably offend an awful lot of people with this post. People who thought they knew me. People who thought they understood me. People who tried to relate to me, to understand what it is about me. What makes me tick.

I pushed most of them away at the first sign of misunderstanding.

See, the thing is, there's just too much going on for me to have to explain myself. I can't explain who I am, what I am, in just a few short words. And sadly, that means an awful lot of people don't have the time for me as a friend. Sure people tolerate me, or hang around me occasionally. Maybe I misunderstand them, maybe they misunderstand me.

In fact, I know I'm misunderstood. I suspect many people think I'd rather just get on with things by myself. Deal with my own problems in my own time. Not want to share problems with others for feedback, or advice, or just to generally sound off.

Wrong.

And that's a shame.

Because often, the above is the exact opposite. I need to sound off all the time. Just one reason I started this blog. I can deal with stuff, but not always on my own. It gets too much. I need to share problems. All the time. But I need to be heard. I don't always want you to keep interrupting me with your experiences. I don't want to finally open up to you, only to have you talk over me and me not even finish what I was saying. Sometimes? It is all about me.

To the very few who DO offer me their ear, GENUINELY, I don't always take it. I have my reasons. Usually because I know they couldn't relate, or I just don't really know how to talk about it, or they're not right for me at that time...but I always appreciate the offer. Always. And I hope they know that. I'm sure they know that. I hope that even though I almost always decline to talk to them, they don't ever stop offering, because sometimes that in itself, is enough.

Am I too fussy in picking friends? Am I foolish for not letting potential friends get too close? I haven't had a good friend since I left high school. There have been people come and go since then. There are people who I let get close, too close, and then pushed them away because they hurt me.

I don't seem the vulnerable sort, do I? Yeah that's me, tough exterior, maybe a little soft on the inside, just gets on with it, takes no bullshit, and takes most other stuff on the chin.

There are people who are discovering that's not the case, all the time.

There are some people who ARE lovely. Beyond belief. And I want to spend more time with them. Different reasons make it difficult. Or, different circumstances mean we're not in the same place, which is fine. They're still so very lovely. They know who they are. They know I'll always be there for them, no matter what. They know I'll always smile when they get in touch. They may not think it's them that I'm talking about, but that's ok. They still make me smile.

However.

She's lovely. She's the sort of person I wish I'd known a long time ago. She understands way too much. I nod my head vigorously in agreement with every email she sends. She makes me laugh. A lot. To the point where I have to tweet her just to tell her she made me laugh. I'm jealous of her talents, even though it's in areas in which I hold very little desire to excel.

I've had lots of friends. I've had some good friends, and still do. I currently have one or two great friends, who I always have time for. But it's been some time since I had a best friend, who just, well, knows.

Just let it flow, right? Don't push her away? Don't get hung up? Don't get weirded out? This post probably sounds like I've found a new love of my life (I stress I'm happily married, and not a lesbian. And of course there's nothing wrong with lesbians. *snort*), but seriously, I get nervous when someone seems a bit...perfect? Good for me?

Is it wrong that I'm kind of waiting to find some major flaw that makes me revert to my usual rant of "see? Let someone get too close? They will fuck you over. And you'll be back to square one. And be full of regret. And you'll learn your lesson. And they never took you seriously in the first place. And didn't you know they were just humouring you? And of course, they were only so nice to you just to make themselves look good. And they never took you seriously. And you're a fool. And also? DUH."

Continue downward spiral of ridiculous thinking.

I hate this way of thinking. I don't want to freak her out. I don't want to push her away. I don't even want her to be freaked out by this post. I just hope she understands that I don't cope so well with people ALWAYS being there for me. Even through their own shit. Even when they are at the end of their own tether.

I don't know where this post is going. What I do know, is that I'm apprehensive. I know she fully understands why. I know she has so many other friends who help and support her immensely, and she does the same for them in return. So I'm apprehensive because I don't want to get hurt again, by someone I consider important to me. I suppose I just count myself incredibly lucky, despite my cynicism, that she counts me as one of those friends.

And I know that, even though I don't understand this now, that this really is unchartered territory for me, and I'm not just chilling out and enjoying the situation (Situation? It's not even that. I don't know what else to call it...normal-ness?), I'll look back and count myself as incredibly damn lucky to have been in this situation. To have known her, and have her give time and have patience for me.

I hope she knows that.
@cosmicgirlie
I'm at breaking point. But this time, it's a different kind of breaking point. I'm not longing for the black shroud (as much as usual), but instead, I want to escape and live. There is so much going on, and I so desperately want to be a part of it. Of ALL of it. I don't even know where to start.

There are people I want to see, places I want to go, things I want to do, but i just don't seem to have the time to do them. And when I get to one thing, something else calls and I have to deal with that instead.

Lately I've found myself saying "can you just hold on? There's only one of me", all too often. Everyone wants something, and I'm running out of myself to give. I try to hold on to some of me to save for the things I want so desperately to give to (my husband? my children? Myself??), but I feel so damn stretched, to breaking point, to exhaustion.

I feel there is so much expected of me; everyone wants something of me, and it has to meet a standard. I'm (almost) always funny on twitter, so it doesn't feel right if I'm feeling shitty. Supposedly, that should reflect on my blog, so this should be funny too. Instead, it's not. I go from hilarious crazy ass posts, to ones that leave you feeling like you never knew me. And whichever way I go, guilt also ensues.

I was talking to someone who's become a very good friend recently, about parenting and how real we actually are with each other. I couldn't agree with her more when she said there are too many people out there who paint an eternally picturesque beautiful scene. To which I added "yeah, where everyone shits roses" (she's much better spoken than myself, to be fair). And this is the truth. Not enough parents (moms especially) admit to how crap this job really can be.

It's currently early afternoon, and today has been shit. I've been trying to work on my website all morning (with very little success), the boys Grandparents came to visit (which got to the point where Noah was jumping off the damn furniture and throwing a ball at the damn tv).

By the time nap time came around, I just wanted a break. I just wanted the 12pm lunch/nap time routine to run as smooth as possible, so I could just get 5 mins of peace. It ended up with Isaac fussing in his cot for half an hour. Not so bad. Noah however, ended up in a time out, a bloody lip, a cut face, yelled and shouted at, a broken drawer (which I have now fixed) and a mother who now feels the epitome of shit.

And all because I was too damn impatient for my 5 minutes. And now Isaac is awake, and instead of thinking "Yeah! I get to have a cuddle with him!" I think to myself "Please, just go back to sleep and leave me alone."

Guess I'll be back in a minute.

...

Quite suddenly, I seem to have made some damn awesome friends. I don't think I've ever had friends like these, where I feel I could actually tell them just about anything and they'd stick around for more than 5 minutes to sit and listen (WITHOUT interrupting). And these are people I want to spend time with. People who give a shit about me. But I feel so tied down, and this damn guilt overrides everything I think. And then when people say "where are you? What's going on?" I wonder what the hell I'm supposed to do, because I'm just busy trying to take care of my shit. And sometimes it just seems like there's a whole lot of shit to take care of.

I love my boys (all three of them) so very much. I would do anything for them. But at the same time, I feel like there is nothing I can do for them. I often feel like I'm causing more harm than good. Noah and Isaac have been poorly with one thing and another for nearly a month now, so Cabin Fever is in full force. So I can't take them out. We can't go and visit people. We're stuck indoors. And Noah shows little interest in activities; drawing, stickers and chalking ends after about 5 minutes, usually in tears (of what? I don't know. Frustration? Boredom? You tell me, because? I can't understand him).

Isaac spends the best part of the day causing serious trouble; he's trapped his fingers in everything in which there is to trap them. He isn't walking, so cruising round the furniture regularly means he slides off and hits head on the nearest sharp object, even if it isn't nearby. Somehow. He's much more wimpy than Noah, so spends a good part of the day in tears. Again, not helped with him being poorly.

And there are days when all I want to do is just chat on Twitter. It's like some horribly addictive drug that I can't get enough of; like some kind of club that you've always wanted to be a part of and if you're a member, you have to work hard to stay a member. But it's always worth the effort.

But at what point do I stop? I've got so many things booked for the next few weeks (including meeting new friends I haven't yet met before, travelling to Devon on my own for a weekend, going to a photography exhibition on my own, birthday parties and much more). But where and how do I draw the line and say, "this is it - I need to cut out this and that; I need this person and that person to just give me a bit of space; I need a BREAK." How does one do that, without feeling the guilt? As a mom? Who. Just. Wants. Some. Time.

Does it happen? Because if I'm pulled in any more directions, I am surely going to rip.
@cosmicgirlie
I am just not cut out for this. I was never made to be a mother, I am not mother material, I can barely cope with one kid, I do NOT see how the hell I an cope with two. I have all the help I can possibly get and yet O still feel like a fucking failure. Noah has ben fine with his grandparents all day, he comes home and is fine, and the second I sit him down to eat, he screams and throws things at me. Can someone please tell me what I did to deserve that?

He's barely eaten all day, he's had practically no dinner (apart from a handful of crisps - oh what a great mother am I) and if he plays up at diner and doesn't eat, he gets no dessert. Which obviously makes me look like the evil mom (I just can't afford to have him grow up on crap alone)

And now I'm fucking crying, for fucks sake. Can someone please tell me how the hell I'm supposed to turn myself around and suddenly just "adapt" to this whole thing that I blatantly cannot do? I can't deal with this. I think about going to sleep and not waking up for months, and just letting everyone else deal with all the shit instead of me. I sometimes think it would just do everyone a too; no one would have to listen to me whine, Noah wouldn't hate me, everyone could just get on and life would be so much easier for all without me and my over-complicated, over-anal, overly-thought-out ways of dealing with everything.

As I sat there with Noah screaming directly into my face, having just hurled yet another plate/bowl/spoon at me, I wondered how much does he hate me. And it sucks to sit there wondering if your kid who is no where NEAR being a teenager absolutely hates favour you, and how the hell did things just escalate so badly anyway?

I hate feeling like a failure, and it terrifies me so much that I'm going to have to feel all of this again with another kid. Why would I put anyone through this? Why should I make another kid suffer already? I always wondered about moms who gave up their kids, and it pains me to say it but sometimes I can see why. I feel like I'm raising some kind of monster who just finds it easier not to be around his neurotic mother.

Lately all I seem to do is shout at him, Noah no touch, Noah no throw, Noah come away, Noah dangerous - no wonder the kid hates me. He probably thinks all fun and games must stop every time he sees me.

It's great that we have Nanny to help us out, but I'm now terrified that it's going to get to the point where he'd rather spend all his time with her. I'm also betting that most of you already saw this coming. I can see it now; D brings Noah downstairs, sees me and Nanny, screams at me and then clings to her. She's so great with him; she gets to do all the things I so desperately want to do, without the added hassle of having to be the ultimate disciplinarian and being the one that always come down on him like a ton of bricks if he's naughty.

And what the hell happens when T.O.O. comes along in 5 weeks time? When Noah spends more time with Nanny, and he realises that actually, life is great when his mum isn't around and he can just do whatever?

I wonder if this is post natal depression. I wonder if this is pregnancy hormones. I also wonder if this is exhaustion in its finest form. I think potentially all of the above, which then leads me to wonder how the hell am I supposed to be a good mother? I have only had Noah for 2 hours today, and already I'm not sure I want to be around him any more today. I can't cope with him. I can't deal with him. I admit defeat - he's too much for me. I'm too weak to deal with him, that's all there is to it.

The honest truth. I'm so not made to be a mom. And that pisses me off severely, because being a failure really stinks.
@cosmicgirlie
UUURRRGGHHHHAAAAHHHAHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGGUUUUURRGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH

Sometimes musicians suck. Sometimes music sucks (apart from when I sing Mr Sandman to Noah while he screams blue freaking murder). Sometimes musicians AND music sucks. Sometimes I love them both. Sometimes I wonder if I'm cut out to be a musician. Sometimes I wonder if I can be arsed with all the political bollocky-shit that goes with being a musician. Sometimes I think I'll quit it all and get out before it makes me want to slit my wrists. Sometimes I wonder if I'll fight the cause and keep going anyway. Sometimes I wonder if I'll stand my ground and be as shitty as other musicians. Sometimes I think I'm too nice. Sometimes I think I'm not good enough. Sometimes I know I'm not good enough. Sometimes I care. Sometimes I don't.

Today at the NCT meet up I got crowned "The Next Baby Whisperer".

Sometimes I just wonder what I might do.
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@cosmicgirlie
Again. It was only a matter of time. I seem to be going through the "Wow do I suck as a mom" phase, and it's not making me feel good. I'm determined to make sure it stays as Baby Blues, and doesn't turn into PND because for the love of god, I can't cope with that right now.

We all knew to look out for it, but I thought I might be a little stronger than this. I already seem to be heading to the Land of Neurosis (especially after we made it two weeks before rushing Noah to A&E after he projectile vomited milk out of his nose for the umpteenth time). I didn't want to be the neurotic mom and I hope I never get there.

I've been terrified of PND for some time. It's my worst enemy. My geatest fear. I can't function when I'm depressed and if that happens, we're screwed.

My body is doing a little better and I try to hang on to that, apart from the fact that I cry my eyes out every time time Noah feeds on Left Boob. It's agony. Like some is massaging the nipple with a freshly sharpened razor blade dipped in lemon juice, salt and vinegar. Lovely.

However, my saving grace was hand expressing 250ml off Left Boob. Left Boob was most grateful, especially as it had started threatening me with a bout of mastitis. Cos you know, if Right Booob can do it...

Yesterday morning was a hoot - D has gone back to work and I had to leave the house. Fill the car with petrol, pick up a prescription. Easy. Yeah. Petrol station: assumed I would only be 30 seconds in the shop, pay on the card. Left Noah in the car (Ahhh...Bad Mommy Rookie mistake). Both cards - declined. Emergency call to the bank. Crying out loud. 15 minutes later, I get back into the car and Noah is screaming blue murder. Hooray.

Next - pharmacy. 'Won't be long at all' she says. Lying whore. You would think I had taken the hint from the petrol station and brought Noah in with me. Nope, left him in the car. Again.* 3 frigging days later (ok, 20 minutes later and several trips back out to the car) I get the prescription. Do you think I've even used it? Nope, because my stupid mentality refuses to pump Noah full of crap at less than a month old. Oh. My. God. What the hell is wrong with me?

The good news throughout all of this? I've pooped several times this week. It's surprisingly reassuring.


*My reasons for this are purely selfish - I struggle to carry him in the car seat and it hurts my hip. Solution? Screw my hip and just carry theboy in his car seat. *tsk*
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