For Michelle's sake I always tried to hide my stress from her as best I could and to keep my sense of humour. Yes we're wearing matching fox sweaters here and it's not by accident. Michelle referred to our time together as "Mama and me" time. I was fortunate to have the first week of January off to spend with her because she was off on Christmas break. As a single Mom without help even when you're "off" work you're never really "off." You're always "on." You're either at work or you're working at home, taking care of your child. Time to yourself is limited (or non-existent.)
It was nice to start the year at my Mom and Dad's place. Michelle loves her grandparents and I'm very grateful to have them to care for her when I'm working. Usually I'm rushing to and from work and don't really have time for a visit so it was a great change of pace to have an actual visit with my parents while I was on vacation. I knew the week would fly by and I would have a difficult week the following week -- an 80 hour work week. There were changes and new challenges at work to add to the already overwhelming stress. I was trying not to think about it.
I told Michelle we could try to make a snowman. It wasn't packing snow so we had to make do with a pretty sorry looking little snowman, or two. Michelle wanted to put the New Year hats on them so we did. Michelle's excitement is infectious and it usually does perk me up a little. I'm still always relieved and grateful when she wants to go back indoors!
Unfortunately sleep deprivation isn't limited to my working days. Even on my days off I never get a proper sleep. Trying to re-adjust after working strange shifts is an endless battle. It's like having jet lag all the time. Sleep never comes easily. Stress keeps me up (I can't relax. Can't stop thinking, worrying) so that I can't fall asleep. Even if/when I finally FALL asleep I can't STAY asleep and keep waking -- either from Michelle coughing or my need to go to the bathroom then I'm back to the uphill battle to quiet my mind and fall BACK to sleep. Even when I do get some sleep, I have nightmares. Sometimes I dream that I'm running and I wake up exhausted like I really have been running. I never wake up feeling rested. I feel drained and depleted most of the time. But Michelle asks "Mama! Will you play with me?!"
and I can't say no. I love Michelle's energy and joy for life. I wish that I shared it. It's hard when you're always tired and stressed out.
There was so much to do. With Christmas over, the house was like a bomb hit it. I had to tidy and organize -- finding a place for her new toys. I got some new shelving units to store things. Michelle even helped me put them together. She was so excited and felt so grown up using a screwdriver. She loves to help with adult chores. My natural inclination is to say no but then I give in (even though I know the task will take 4 times as long) because it makes her happy and it's good experience for her. My Mom never let us help with anything. I get it. I'm a control freak too. But sometimes I relinquish control to make Michelle happy.
Michelle and I did crafts together. She received a few craft kits for Christmas and wanted me to work on them with her. I helped her with some light up bracelet crafts. After we made them she wanted to have a dance party/light show. We waited until it was dark enough and then we danced around. We laughed at the swirling lights in the mirror. I got the idea to try to photograph the light. I was amazed with the results. It was so cool. You could see the movement of the light like strokes of a paintbrush. Sometimes I find my playful side in spite of myself. If there's a photo op in it that's what makes me happiest. Michelle and I had a blast dancing with light and capturing it on camera. "Cool, Mama!"
And sometimes when Michelle would fall asleep, I would sit and cry. I was drained, dead tired and didn't know how I'd keep going. Except to just keep going.
At least Michelle appreciated my efforts. She made me this. We are hearts and we even have hair! It was so cute I laughed and cried all at once. She always writes "You are the best Mama in the world" (or wrold -- but hey she's trying!) I'm not of course. Far from it. But I try to be. She is everything to me. She is #1 on my list. But it isn't easy. Work and Michelle (in very different ways) were taking so much out of me that it felt like there was nothing left for myself. Self-care was non-existent. I wasn't sleeping, eating properly. I didn't exercise. I didn't have time to myself for hobbies (aside from grabbing a couple of minutes here and there on Twitter or on Blogger -- while Michelle was off school I felt too guilty even for that most of the time.) It was like I had two demanding full-time jobs. It didn't leave any down time, recovery time or "me time." Even my vacation was exhausting. Michelle can entertain herself and play independently and sometimes she does. But without siblings to play with, she looks to me. And I have a hard time saying no. So I'm the Mom and the sister/friend and the provider and everything.
Michelle laughed.
"You remember how to call 9-1-1 if you need to, right?" I joked, "like if Mama can't get up..."
She laughed mercilessly and asked me to pull her on the sled again. "AGAIN, Mama!"
"Mama can't breathe," I said, huffing and puffing.
She laughed and threw snow at me.
"I feel the love!" I said. And then I pulled her again. Because I'm a sucker.
"That wasn't funny. Remember if I can't SEE you I can't SAVE you! You scared Mama to death. Don't EVER do that again."
"Sorry Mama."
So while that trip to the playground was loads of fun for her, it was pretty much a trip through Hell for me.
I wish I wasn't a worrier. I wish I didn't panic over everything. I'm a control freak and there are so many things beyond my control. Michelle matters more to me than my own life. Sometimes I wish I could be like the laid back parents that don't seem to worry at all, that just chill out, playing on their cellphone, paying no attention to where their kids are, trusting that they're probably OK. That probably no one is kidnapping them. They don't have to hover and watch over their kids. Some people drop off their kids for a birthday party in a chaotic public place like the playground, leaving their kids running amok with dozens of other kids, while the only supervising parent isn't even watching because they are busy setting up balloons and cake and everything in a side room. I've often wondered how they do it. I can't imagine. If I was responsible for 20 kids at a party I'd be watching them all like a hawk. I'd probably want to put bells on them. I don't know how you'd keep track. I had a hard time just keeping track of a few kids when I volunteered at a school trip. Or maybe they don't even try to watch them. They just trust the universe. (Don't they watch the news?!) Everyone seems so chill. They just go about their business. No one worries. But I'm not laid back. I'm not chill. I'm me. And I worry. Bad things happen all the time. Nowadays more than ever. The world has gone to hell if you haven't noticed! Some tragedies you can't prevent, but others, if you're vigilant, you hopefully can. I can't take the chance. There were times in my life that I threw caution to the wind (though admittedly not very often!) With Michelle I just can't do it. I am overly cautious, overprotective. I don't know how else to be. I don't want to stifle her to the point where she can't even have fun. But each time I have to let go a little I worry. I need boundaries. I need to know she's safe. Yes I'm a helicopter parent. If you have smothering on one end of the spectrum and negligence on the other, frankly, I'll err toward sMOTHERING! (Yes if you notice, most of the word smothering is actually MOTHERING whereas negligence has NO mothering in it at all! So guess which end of the spectrum I choose to be on?! Of course somewhere in the middle would probably be closer to ideal but that's beside the point.) As a Mama, it's instinctual to protect your young. Isn't that natural? There's a quote -- "God could not be everywhere and therefore he made mothers." Rudyard Kipling
I told Michelle that I was going to choose the next outing and it was going to be somewhere I could have eyes on her at all times, something TRANQUIL, beautiful and calming for a change: the Butterfly Conservatory. She was psyched because she loves going there too. To me, it's one of the most beautiful places and when it's mid-winter and the days are mostly cold, grey, bleak and barren, beauty is often in short supply! I feel like beauty is as much a necessity as air, food, water, shelter. Focusing on the ugliness of life (horrors in the news etc) is toxic mentally and physically. Beauty soothes the soul...As you can see, we dressed for the occasion -- she in a butterfly dress and me in a butterfly shirt because yes I'm a total nerd! I can own that. My penchant for "theme dressing" is not going anywhere. Not as long as I'm a photoholic anyway! (Which will be ALWAYS! I can't see myself one day going "Naw...I'm not taking anymore pictures. I'm done!" Not a snowball's chance in Hell.)
Going from the extreme cold outside to extreme heat and humidity inside (it's a jungle in there!) made my camera lens fog up and it was a long time before it acclimatized. So the first batch of photos I took had this haze that almost looks like a filter. It is not.
In retrospect a little haze may not be a bad thing. Especially when you're taking an awkward selfie (always too close for comfort I think!) At least I managed to capture this shot of Michelle with a butterfly on her shoulder, next to me! And sort of smiling to boot! I'll take it!
Aside from the fog/haze I had my scratched lens to deal with (which tends to refract sunlight and make ghosts appear mid-frame.) I really should get a new camera but I'm resistant to change (also the expense is a deterrent! Still holding on to my old Nikon for now!)
Michelle was always thrilled when a butterfly would perch on her. I saw some kids flailing and trying to avoid the butterflies (which begs the question -- WHAT THE WHAT ARE YOU DOING AT A BUTTERFLY CONSERVATORY IF YOU'RE AFRAID OF BUTTERFLIES?! That's just bad planning. Or bad parenting. One of the two. You'd think parents would consult the kids before going on an outing that will traumatize them. I mean you will NEVER catch me at a Scorpion Conservatory! Not that such a thing exists. Nor should it! They are creepy as Hell! Strangely enough I dated two Scorpios and they were both alternately dreamy and creepy in their own ways. I'm grateful about the last one especially though. Without him I wouldn't have my girl. So Yay Scorpios! Even if you are partially evil. I'm sort of kidding. But not. My Mom is a Scorpio too...This whole paragraph was a weird tangent...Sorry about that!) In any event I don't know how anyone can be afraid of butterflies. They're so beautiful!
I love Michelle's sweet (if somewhat forced) smile here! She walked around for quite a while with her black and yellow friend and then I saw a photo op (a bench where I could sit the camera for a self-timed pic and no photobombers within a 10 second radius...This is not easy, let me tell you!)
I just wish Michelle had angled her hand so that you could see the butterfly better but you can't have everything. A couple of people commented on her butterfly dress and the fact that she seemed to attract butterflies like a magnet while others struggled to get even one to land on them. Michelle loved the attention and felt quite special, like a magical butterfly fairy.
Eventually if her winged friends didn't fly away on their own she'd put them on one of the food stations to have a snack. (Fruit and sponges soaked in nectar.)
If only Michelle had been looking at the camera and smiling instead of awkwardly avoiding it but I know it can't be easy being a photoholic's kid and constantly having a camera in your face! I can almost see the thought bubble above her head "Oh Mama, COME ON!" At least she knows by now that it's non-negotiable and she might as well just learn to live with it. She's pretty cooperative/indulgent with me for the most part. I wish I'd just taken pictures of her without trying to get myself into the shot because I just look like a dufus!
It was a sweet, funny, completely adorable film and we both loved it! Ferdinand is an exceptional bull, despite his brute strength, he is a softie inside -- kind, sensitive, sweet and drawn to beauty. He loves flowers. He isn't violent. He doesn't want to fight, even though it's supposed to be his destiny. It's a beautiful message -- to be who you are MEANT to be, rather than just falling into the trap of doing what's EXPECTED of you. You have to follow your bliss. Also it showed how barbaric and cruel bull-fighting is. The bull isn't the villain. It's the matador and the cruel treatment of the animal that makes him seem like a raging monster. Bull-fighting should be banned (if it hasn't been already...) I could relate to Ferdinand. I'm a Taurus who also prefers to stop and smell the flowers when it's an option.
While escapism is nice, of course it doesn't last. You have those hours in the dark, caught up in this beautiful, magical make believe world. Then the movie ends, you leave the theatre and face the cold air outside, jolting you back into the real world. It was great spending time with Michelle and having fun doing things to distract me from the difficult realities in my life. But the week ended. Reality was waiting for me to face it. And it was back with a vengeance. The second week of January I was back to work and it was even more difficult than I'd feared. An 80 hour week made me tired just thinking about it. I wasn't sure how I was actually going to do it. I went from seeing Michelle every day to barely seeing her at all. I was basically working and traveling every single day. We didn't even have one day back at home before we were off again. I was barely home long enough to throw in some laundry and re-pack our bags. It was nuts.
"I miss being home," Michelle said to me.
"Me too," I said.
While I knew that it was going to be a tough week, I didn't expect to already be breaking down on TUESDAY. It was just too much going from a week off to a 16 hour day on no sleep. And it was a bad day (night) at that. Monday night I made it through the shift (somehow) but by morning I was so beyond depleted that I felt like I was going to throw up. And I still had to drive TWO HOURS. Like a zombie with red eyes, my head pounding, dizzy and slurring my words (like being impaired by sleep -- is that legal? It's not alcohol but the effect is almost the same -- slurred speech, cloudy head. Still how can you help being tired when you work long shifts and drive for hours? What could I do? What I DID do is roll down the window, blast music, drink caffeine and force my eyeballs open!) An hour to pick up Michelle, get her out of bed at my Mom's, drive another hour back home, pack her lunch, get her breakfast and off to school. When I finally dropped her off I was so relieved I thought I would just fall into bed and sleep instantly. (For a whopping 4 hours tops before I had to get up to get Michelle and go work my next shift...) Instead I sat down on the couch and cried. The cat came over to comfort me but she got scared and ran away when my sobbing was inconsolable. Sometimes I would cry from sheer exhaustion but this was different. I was completely spent. I didn't know how I'd get through another night shift and the rest of the week. I felt trapped and I didn't know what to do. And I kept thinking "I should be sleeping now. I only have 4 hours -- make that 3 now-- max to sleep as it is....Before I have to pick up Michelle from school (early) and drive 2-3 hours in bad traffic and go through it all again..."I needed help. I had appointments set up with the psychologist but they didn't start until later in the month. I needed help NOW. I needed a calm voice to tell me it was going to be OK somehow (whether or not that was true.) I tried to reach my sister and couldn't get her. Then I reached out to a counseling service through my work (I'm in a stressful field so they have a help line you can call if needed.) I called and got a very nice counselor within minutes.
Getting up early in the morning on your day off and after nightshift, and on about half an hour of sleep if that, is less than ideal. I was mostly a zombie. Luckily the day itself wasn't too bad. I actually met some very nice people who were somewhat sympathetic to my situation. Unfortunately I didn't get to work with them and probably wouldn't see them again. It was a pleasant experience. Unfortunately the timing was terrible. Another day of no sleep during my most hectic week. Another day of commuting for hours. Now I wouldn't even have one day off.
I didn't know it at the time but the last straw was coming... It had been a long time coming. It's tough when you're struggling and there aren't many (or ANY) sympathetic ears around. No one really understood or cared what I was going through and no one had my (overburdened, breaking) back. Even knowing I'd have a two hour commute at the end of my shift and was so tired I could die, somehow I was always the last person to be relieved. Every. Single. Time. It was like a slap in the face. Everyone else would go home and I'd still be sitting waiting. You'd think someone would take pity on me once in a while. You'd think someone would accidentally let me go home first so I could embark on my grueling TWO HOUR hour commute rather than relieve someone with a ten minute commute. But no. Maybe it wasn't intentional. Maybe it was just luck of the draw/Murphy's Law. But it hurt more than I could say. It was a slap in the face. No one gave a damn what I was going through. They probably figured it was my own fault anyway. And I get it. Why would they have my back? I never really fit in there. I'm not one of them. No one could relate to me. The only thing more stressful than the job itself, and the commute and all that I was going through was going through it all ALONE. No one to vent to, to roll my eyes at mid-day. To laugh with over coffee (iced capp in my case.) To comfort, to sympathize, to ease the burden. Not having an ally, a confidante, someone who understood. I missed having the camaraderie of co-workers on my wavelength (like I used to a long long time ago.) It's hard and it's lonely feeling like a square peg in a round hole, knowing you'll never fit in. To always feel you don't belong. To always be misunderstood. And to be alone to deal with it all.
It was a rough week to say the least. Somehow I survived it. One day, one hour at a time. Then the weekend came. Day shifts this time. Night shifts are Hell on earth but day shifts are somehow even worse. On a day shift I have to stay over at my Mom's on an uncomfortable fold out bed. I usually get no sleep or maybe 1 hour tops. I get up at 4 am to get ready for work then drive an hour, work 12 hours and drive another hour (or two if it's my last one and I'm heading home.) Sometimes by the second or third dayshift I am so exhausted I could die and I collapse at 8 pm. Other times I'm not so lucky and as sleepy as I am I still lie there and lie there worrying, spinning, thinking an endless stream of thoughts from the mundane to the terrible. From past regrets to future fears. Sometimes I would get up and watch CNN in the wee hours (because that's SO SOOTHING! At least I'd get a few laughs out of Trump's ridiculous antics. At this writing he STILL hasn't been impeached and I can't believe it but I try not to follow it anymore. I have enough of my own worries without paying attention to American politics.) Or I'd write a song or poem. Or draw. But most of the time I would just LAY THERE. Trying to relax (which ironically becomes more unattainable the harder you try!) I would try to meditate. To breathe mindfully. Nope. I would just spin and spin and spin. There was so much fear, anxiety, anger, confusion, frustration. Thinking about my job and my life and the state of the world in general would sometimes induce a full-on panic attack. "What am I going to do?" "What are WE going to do? As a people? As a planet?" The world is falling apart. It made me feel helpless. I couldn't ignore it but I couldn't really do anything about it either.
My job didn't help. The world really seemed to be crumbling around me, even more so than usual and I unfortunately had a front row seat for it. Without saying where I work (because I never do. Not online. Have to keep some level of anonymity/mystery when I reveal so much about myself and my life!) it's a very stressful occupation. It goes way beyond multi-tasking in a fast-paced environment. Sometimes it's like a living horror movie. There are a number of careers with an enormous amount of responsibility (where peoples' lives are at stake) and consequently a great deal of stress -- the military, health care, emergency services (police, fire and ambulance) to name a few. A number of careers where you deal with the dark side of humanity -- the angst, the anger and the anguish -- on a daily basis. There was a line on a TV drama (Fox's 9-1-1) where the protagonist says "It takes a certain kind of person to swim in the pain of the world and not get wet." Unfortunately I'm not that kind of person. I get wet. I was drowning. You take in so much negativity, constantly, from the trivial to the tragic and it's almost impossible to stay positive. It wears you down. Some people seem to be immune to it. I'm not one of them.
I remember the interview scene in the movie "The Incredibles" where Mr. Incredible says "Sometimes I wish the world would just STAY SAVED!" You try to help people, to make a difference in some small way every day. But it's like you don't make any difference. No matter what you do, the world is still broken. The job is never done. The world is never saved. Nothing is ever resolved. Your inbox is never empty. It's relentless and soul destroying. No closure. No resolution. No end. Just more. And more. Same shit, different piles. Different shit, different piles. So much shit. Sometimes it feels like there's nothing you can do. It's futile and frustrating. It makes you feel hopeless, helpless. And the worse the world gets, the harder it is. When you're someone who likes to have things resolved, to have all their ducks in a row, that likes to have order and control it is beyond discouraging and defeating to be inundated, surrounded by chaos that you can't even get a handle on. It's just one thing after another. Never knowing what's coming next that may be even worse, your worst nightmare. A happy ending once in a while, a good day, when things run smoothly, when a supervisor gives you a pat on the back and says what a great job you did, when you feel like you made a bit of a difference -- can be so empowering. But the rest of the time you feel overwhelmed. It seems futile. With limited resources to try to solve infinite problems, you're set up to fail. It chips away at you. An endless stream of troubles to deal with (most of which can't be settled), each one worse than the last. And you have more bad days than good and when you're on no sleep you're so fragile that every setback, every issue feels heavier. It crushes you.
I admire the men and women who bravely try to save the world every day. To keep doing it without falling apart it seems you have to be Superhuman or a Saint. If you're made of steel and nothing gets to you, you can just keep trying to rescue and recover the broken world, asking nothing in return, never having a moment of weakness. If you're a martyr you're willing to give your life for others, never losing patience, never complaining how hard it was even as it destroys you. But I am definitely NOT Superman or Mother Teresa, just a (VERY) flawed human being, and a sensitive one at that (more than the average person!) So IT GETS TO ME. It had been GETTING TO ME for a long time. I managed to muddle through but it was taking a toll. More and more each day. I was running on less than empty. I was past my breaking point. How could I help anyone else when I needed help myself?! It gets to the point where you feel utterly futile -- like Sisyphus, knocking yourself out to roll a massive boulder up the hill just to have it roll back down again. Day after day after day. Or like Atlas carrying the weight of the friggin world every day, without a break...
The expression "The straw that broke the camel's back" makes the camel sound like a lightweight. It is not. Camels are BAD ASS. A camel can carry close to 1000 lbs. It can walk 120 miles a day and go 6-7 months without water. They are designed to endure A LOT for a LONG TIME. Their hump of fat provides fuel so that they can go without water. Eventually the hump starts to slump (I wonder if Dr. Seuss used that one!) Now I'm not saying that I'm a camel, exactly. My hump didn't slump (though I did get a lump in my breast I had to have removed and I'm sure stress was a major factor if not the sole cause!) But I went a VERY long time working in difficult conditions until the last straw broke my back.
I'd been joking about "having a nervous breakdown" for months. Except it wasn't a joke. I was coming apart at the seams. The stress of the job and the world and my life situation and everything was just breaking me down. I thought of the poem "Not waving but drowning." I hadn't even been subtle about how fucked up I was. I had burst into tears at work. I was dropping F bombs. I had no filter. I was lashing out. I was snapping. I was losing it. But it was like no one noticed or cared.
It was therapeutic. I was mad. I was fed up. I was beyond mad and fed up. I thought of that line from the movie "Network" (which I've never seen except for that clip): "I'm as mad as Hell and I'm not going to take this anymore!" And the day finally ended and I breathed a heavy sigh as I walked to my car. I got in and I was shaking. All the tears and rage that had been bottled up came out. My shoulders heaving. Tears streaming down my face. (Driving while impaired by crying, also not illegal but not advisable either.) And I drove and I cried and I raged and I drove and I cried and I thought "Yup. I've got to see my doctor. And if she tells me to take a couple of weeks off (or a couple of months, years, millennia!) I'm BLOODY WELL TAKING IT!" Fuck. This. Shit.
So I went to see my doctor. And I was a mess. I was bawling uncontrollably. I was babbling like a lunatic. I was worse than I had been in her office back in October. I was MORE BROKEN. (I used to think you couldn't be more broken. Like when you're late you can't be MORE LATE. But I was wrong. You can be more late. You can be more broken. Much much more.) I told her what I'd been through. And thankfully my doctor insisted I take a medical leave to rest, de-stress and take care of myself. And I didn't fight her this time. I didn't know the logistics of it (I couldn't afford not to get paid but it also wasn't worth my life and sanity to keep pushing myself. I was in no state to do the job. I needed to get well no matter the cost.) I just knew that I needed time. Luckily because they'd already determined my stress was work-related I was covered. I needed time to heal. Everyone seemed to agree on that.
It's one thing to say that you SHOULD get more rest, exercise and find your happy place. It's quite another when it's actually doctor's orders. I was determined I was finally going to take better care of myself and now I would actually have the TIME to do it. Time to myself while Michelle was in school. Time to breathe. Time to do yoga. I booked massages to help me relax. I took a bubble bath for the first time in years. I started therapy. I was hopeful things would get better.It felt good to be taking care of myself for a change. For so long I'd neglected myself. Like I wasn't a priority at all. Like I wasn't even human. Pushed myself to keep going even without basic necessities like sleep, proper food, any form of relaxation.
Knowing that Michelle loved me helped a lot. But I really needed to love MYSELF too. What kind of Mom could I be if I was falling apart? I needed to be OK to be there for her. I had my work cut out for me.
I love Michelle's art. Her world is sweet and happy and magical. Such a stark contrast from the dark, miserable, nightmarish world I'd experienced at work. It was a nice change. I wanted to inhabit this childlike world now.
I love that Michelle's smile is so big she has three rows of teeth! I love that she doesn't even try to do hands because they're hard. I always hated drawing them too! This is Michelle's own self-portrait. She sees herself as a blonde rather than a redhead. Her hair is gold. When you're limited to the colours in a crayon box it's a tough call for a strawberry blonde. Do you choose orange? Your hair isn't exactly orange. Do you go for red, like Ariel? Sure you're a redhead but your hair isn't literally red. Or do you go with yellow, like the sun (which isn't yellow either, it's more white...) and be a blonde? So Michelle sees herself as a blonde and she's never really liked the term redhead anyway. Although, make no mistake, Michelle IS a redhead, a true ginger in every way!
"Ummmm NO! We've had this discussion. No gargantuan bears for us. Not happening."
"But it's a KOALA!"
"Yup. Not really relevant. It's too expensive. It's too big for the car or even the house for that matter. Just no."
But of course I couldn't resist grabbing a photo of her with it. That's my go to if Michelle wants something and the answer is no -- get a picture of it and then you get to keep it forever, in a way.
With Michelle, I usually try to come from a place of yes. But sometimes the answer has to be no for obvious reasons.
I love my family so much. I'm so grateful for them. Spending time with them, especially my sister (and best friend) always cheers me up. Somehow May always makes me laugh no matter what. Michelle loves visiting at Auntie May's as well. Working so much means time away from Michelle and my family, no time for yoga, no time to relax -- all the things that make me happy and recharge my spirit. I got myself so depleted that I was running on less than empty. Now it was time to take it easy and to do the things that make me feel good again.
Michelle was happy that I was going to be at home for a change, that for now at least we wouldn't be on that insane schedule, driving all over hell's half acre, rarely home. I wouldn't have to pick her up early from school or have her miss days of school like she did when I was working full time. She could enjoy her time at school and home with her Mom without constantly being uprooted.Michelle did a portrait of our little family -- Michelle, Ali and me. We're all smiling. Even the cat. And the sun is golden. I wanted to live in that smiley happy world. I wanted to try anyway. Now that I had a break to take a breath I had a shot at least.
I didn't know what to expect from therapy but I was looking forward to it. Like a nerd, I brought a notebook to take notes. I was going to treat it like going to school. (I'd always loved school and been an A student. A total type A control freak I thought I was going to ace this! I was going to be cured in one session! Sure. Could happen! Even though I'd been scheduled for 18 sessions. Even though it had taken 17 years in my job to get me this messed up.) It was like taking a course in well-being, learning how to be happier, more calm, more resilient, learning how to cope with stress, anxiety and anger. I'd loved Psychology 101 when I took it in university. I only took it because I needed a science course but I absolutely LOVED it. I found it fascinating. I was at the top of my class (in the top 2% among 2000 students) and my Psych professor wrote a letter at the end of the year saying he looked forward to working with me in the future. I didn't have the heart to tell him that course was the only Psychology one I'd be taking. That I was a Humanities student just trying to meet the science requirement.
I took Sociology as well because I needed a social science. They try to make sure students are "well rounded" so they make you take at least one or two courses outside of your specialty. So the math and science set are forced to take an arts course and the artsy-fartsy types need to take a science or two. Sociology was interesting as well, learning about behaviour in groups as opposed to just individuals, how we relate to others. I remember my teacher loved one of my essays so much he read it to the class. I was proud and embarrassed all at once. He said it was different from any science paper he'd ever read, so raw and direct. Of course because I was more of a writer than a scientist. I got an A. That was what I loved about school. You could put your heart into something and get an A. In life it often feels like you put your heart and soul out there and no one gives a shit. University was a great experience. Looking back, I would have loved to take more psychology courses. Unfortunately I didn't have the maths and sciences required to specialize in it.
Philosophy -- pondering the big questions about reality and existence -- had always fascinated me too and I really wanted to take it in university as well but there was no room for it. I already had a full plate trying to do a double major -- English and Drama, with a minor in Art History. But I was glad I took Psychology. As I sat in that huge lecture hall taking notes or reading my text book at home I never imagined that one day I'd be GOING TO a psychologist myself. As a PATIENT. Then again I also wouldn't have guessed the career I'd end up in or the fact that I'd be a single Mom. Life is stressful. Sometimes you cope and sometimes you slip. Mental health is so important but we don't always give it the attention it deserves. We either take it for granted or don't fully understand it. We know if we break a leg that it needs a cast to heal but sometimes we suffer a mental injury and we just keep pushing ourselves. And no one can see the injury. If we don't speak up they may not know. Robin Williams was one of the greatest comedians that ever lived and he was suffering in silence. And we lost him. There is still somewhat of a stigma to admitting you need help. There shouldn't be. Many celebrities have come forward and opened up about their battles with anxiety, depression, etc. Therapy helps a lot of people. It can still be hard sometimes to admit that you don't have it all together. There seems to be this pressure to fit in, to be OK or at least fake it well enough to fool everyone. But the burden is greater when you can't even share it. When you're going through it alone.
Unfortunately my enthusiasm was short-lived. Suddenly I got really sick with a cold, the worst I'd had since my pneumonia years ago and it was like a slap in the face. I had gone from overworked and running on empty with no sleep, no exercise and a terrible diet to relaxing at home, getting rest, exercising and eating right and NOW I get sick?! Why now?! WTF?! It wasn't fair. Online I found that others had been through the same thing. There was even a term for it -- "leisure sickness." People who have extremely stressful jobs can't just switch the stress and strain off. When they try to relax, they get sick. When you're under constant pressure, the immune system is stimulated -- it's like your body knows there isn't time to get sick. It keeps you on high alert in case you have to wrestle a saber tooth tiger. When you try to take a break it signals the immune system to back off (OK guys, pressure is off now so you can relax!) and without the immune system working overtime, you wind up getting ill. All those days without sleep, all that excess cortisol, all the self-neglect of months or years catches up to you. My nose was running, my head was foggy. I couldn't sleep. Even my skin was breaking out. Pimples?! In my late 40s?! I wasn't even eating chocolate or peanut butter. It didn't make sense. I was angry. I was discouraged. I had gone from feeling so hopeful to now feeling completely hopeless. One step forward, two steps back. Even when I tried to take care of myself I was falling apart. I couldn't win. The next time I went to see my therapist I was sobbing uncontrollably. I felt like I'd failed. I wanted to be getting better but now it felt like I was getting worse.
My therapist was very reassuring. She told me not to get discouraged, that I was on the path to healing and what I was going through was completely natural. It was like I was going through detox -- my body ridding itself of toxins which manifested as sickness, my skin breaking out, etc. Though exercising, eating healthier and getting rest were obviously steps in the right direction they were still a DRASTIC change in my lifestyle and my body was adjusting. I had to give it time. The path to wellness is a journey. It took 17 years to mess me up. It was going to take more than a week to cure my stress.Impatient, a control freak, perfectionistic, I tend to be pretty hard on myself and I tend to expect too much too fast. I think in terms of black and white, pass or fail, good or bad, which is more destructive than productive. Our thoughts, behaviours, emotions and physical sensations are all connected, however of the four there are really only two which you can control: thoughts and behaviours. You can't stop what you feel emotionally and physically but you can work on how you think and act, which in turn can help to improve your emotional and physical well-being.
So I was learning to relax, somewhat, during the day. I could find my zen while I was doing yoga and I could slow down my breathing while doing chores and running errands. Laying down at night was another story. Insomnia had always been a problem, particularly in the last decade or so. My mind doesn't come with an off switch. It just keeps spinning -- past regrets, present problems, future dread. From the mundane to-do lists to existential crises. Stress and anxiety make sleep almost impossible. Even now with time off I couldn't relax. Aside from my one fluke night of good sleep I was right back to insomnia again. The lavender and salt weren't helping. Of course a runny nose and cough didn't make it any easier. I lay there for hours unable to FALL asleep. Then I wake up to go to the bathroom or get a drink of water and can't get BACK to sleep. The only time I seem to be really sound asleep is just before the alarm goes off (and alarm is the right word because it is ALARMING! I nearly jump out of my skin and my heart pounds out of my chest from the shock.) I didn't have to go to work but I still had to get Michelle to school on time, which is stressful in itself. Michelle has absolutely no sense of urgency. She takes her sweet time eating breakfast, getting dressed, putting on her coat. Meanwhile I'm rushing to get there on time, but she doesn't worry at all. It's a miracle she's never been late. Sometimes we're running to get in the door before the bell goes off (and the doors lock so you have to go to the office even if you're one minute late.) Slow as molasses. She's usually the last one out too when I go to pick her up at the end of the day. I guess I should be glad she's more easy-going and not stressed out like her Mama. Then again, she's FIVE.
Even when I do sleep, sometimes I have nightmares. I had one of the worst I'd had in many years. At one point I was running and these horrible creatures were chasing me -- not sure if they were goblins or zombies except that they were misshapen, grotesque, decaying bodies that were after me. I couldn't get away no matter what I did. They followed me even as I ran up the walls like a spider, they'd run up too. I'd jump up and take flight but then they could fly too. They were always at my heels and there was no escape. Usually in my dreams there was an out -- a way to escape the monsters. Usually if I could fly then I could leave them behind or wake up but this was different. They would get me no matter what. I woke up relieved that it was just a dream but totally exhausted as though I really had been running (and jumping and flying!) So even rest wasn't restful. Clearly I had a lot of demons to work out in therapy. You could take me out of my job but could you take my job and the trauma I'd dealt with for so long, out of me? I tried to avoid anything stressful. I didn't want to hear about tragedies in the news. I watched nothing but animated movies with Michelle. I wanted to live in a sweet, happy world of sunshine and rainbows. But I was still haunted, still struggling.
While I had no social life whatsoever Michelle had an active one. She was invited to birthday parties just about every weekend. I was feeling like Hell with my cold and lack of sleep but I managed to drag myself out to take her to a friend's party. I was so tired and my head in a fog so I barely knew what I was doing.
I'm glad that Michelle is the opposite of me in so many ways -- happy, friendly, sociable, outgoing, confident. I'm glad that she gets along so well with others. I always struggled with shyness and insecurity. She is a 5 year old social butterfly while Mama is (age withheld!) more of an anti-social moth. But I stray outside of my comfort zone enough to allow Michelle to have some fun. I don't want to hold her back. Even when my nose is running like a tap and my head feels like a block of wood I'm out there trying to make her happy (even if we get lost along the way...)
Plus I could take some pictures which being a hopeless photoholic always cheers me up a little. Michelle was mostly having a good time and ignoring the paparazzi (Mama-razzi!) but once in a while she'd throw me a smile!
It's different for me. I do need fresh air and sunshine and I love them when the weather is warm but I really struggle with Winter. The cold gets to me. The dark and cold feel oppressive and especially when I already feel fragile. I certainly did not miss the long perilous commutes in bad weather (though sometimes I did have to drive distances to see my doctor etc.) I was grateful to be home most of the time though. Some days it was so bitterly cold you could get frost bite in minutes so I told Michelle we had to go in right away after school. Other days I let her play for a bit.
Recording my thoughts and emotions, making note of physical sensations etc and then challenging them with alternative balanced, more rational thoughts was a powerful exercise for me. I saw how I was over-reacting to everything. I needed to chill. Some of my alternative thoughts were very positive (I didn't actually believe them when I wrote them I was just putting what I figured you're supposed to say.) She asked me to collect those thoughts and turn them into a list of positive affirmations. Maybe I could train myself to look at things in a more positive light. To not be so hard on myself (and others.) To not be so reactive -- angry and anxious over everything. The thing is when you're IN the stressful situation it's very hard to be objective, to stand back from it and say "Stop it! This isn't helpful or necessary! Why am I letting this get to me?" but I was trying to learn to do that. Even in bad traffic. Even when things went wrong. I didn't have to let everything affect me. Maybe I could learn not to.
"Be kind and patient -- with yourself and others."
"You can't control everything."
"Focus on the positive."
"You've got this."
"You are safe."
"Life isn't perfect."
"All you need is love."
"It's not the end of the world!"
That last one Michelle actually helped me with. One of the "upsetting events" I recorded was Michelle smashing a glass in the family room. Shit happens but I blamed myself for leaving the glass there and felt guilty. I was upset because her toe was bleeding and everything. In the middle of me freaking out Michelle goes "Mama, it's not the end of the world." OMG I thought, my five year old is more wise than I am. She is zen to my frazzled. I could learn from her. Chillax, Mama. Sheesh.
Not having a social network and being home most of the time now I don't have much interaction with other grown ups. It's mostly just Michelle and me. Sometimes it's nice to talk to other parents. Some of them are really nice. Of course there is still that part of me that feels like an outsider because I am still the only single Mom. I know there must be other single parents out there but they don't seem to be at Michelle's school or anywhere else we go. Or if they are they're not wearing signs saying "I'm a single parent!" (Then again, neither am I. Though I think the fact that I'm NEVER WITH A MAN is a bit of a clue! LOL)
We built a snowman in the front yard and a snow kitty in the backyard. And I pulled Michelle around on her little deer sled. She loves it but it's Hell on me. It's hard on my back and shoulders and it knocks the wind right out of me. Sometimes I'll be pulling and huffing and puffing and then suddenly the sled seems really light and I'll see that she's fallen off and is laughing her head off.
"Again Mama!" she laughs mercilessly even as I tell her that Mama CAN'T BREATHE.
"OK but this..." huffing and puffing, "is the LAST TIME!" I say. Then she still says "AGAIN!" mercilessly right afterward.
"What part of THIS IS THE LAST TIME did you not--"
"AGAIN!"
Oh well. It's a workout. At least I got a picture of her smiling, waiting for her next ride around the yard.
As much as I hate the snow, I do love the snowmen and snow kitties once they're done. It's like when I was in school, I HATED writing essays but I loved having written them. I like when things are DONE. I like going inside and having a hot chocolate and looking out the window to see the cute snow creature that you built together. They say you're supposed to be mindful and present in the moment but when it's a moment you don't particularly like, when it's cold or difficult, sometimes the moment after is the best. When it's over with and you got through it and now you're safe and warm inside...
"Maybe sweetheart," I told her, "if you do something great to change the world for the better." And she just might. I'm so proud of my girl.
More than doing yoga, aromatherapy, breathing techniques or going for massages, one of the best ways to de-stress was spending time with Michelle. She is my happy place and I love when we can share good times together.
When I was working so much, not having time with her added to my stress. Michelle loved having me home again. I worried how she would deal with it when I went back to work. For now we were enjoying the time together. We were both looking forward to seeing the new "Peter Rabbit" movie. It looked hilarious from the previews. Movies are an escape. Being caught up in a make believe, magical world was a nice change from the real and horrifying world that I had been immersed in at work, watching the news etc.
I realized how much I loved being in Michelle's world -- reading children's books, watching kids' movies -- I wanted to focus on that sweet, funny, magical, beautiful world. I wanted talking animals. I wanted sunshine and unicorns and rainbows. I didn't want murder and mayhem. Some people are drawn to drama and horror in shows and movies. There were times in my life when I loved them too, but right now, when I'm trying to be gentle with myself, when I'm trying to heal mentally and physically, I am glad to inhabit a child's world for now.
Though my cold symptoms became less severe (I didn't have the constant runny nose and cough) they never entirely went away either. The only thing worse than being sick myself was when Michelle was sick. Then again she'd pretty much been sick since she started school in September. Whether it was the same never-ending cold or a thousand different ones it seemed almost endless. Sometimes it would seem to get better only to get worse again. Any time I took her to the doctor she just said it's natural for kids to get sick all the time. It helps to build up their immunity. She suggested a puffer but Michelle didn't want it so we just sort of put up with it. Kids are magnets for germs. Every time she's around other kids (which is ALWAYS since she started school) she picks something up. At least it wasn't going to put a damper on Valentine's Day.
I spoiled Michelle because it's what I do. I can't help it. I see something cute or pretty and I can't resist. If she'd been a boy there would have been a lot less temptation to buy things but I love girl's toys. I'm still just a big kid myself so it's hard not to get things for her when I love them too.
She got toys and stuffies and chocolates of course. I don't mind not getting presents. I have more fun giving things to her. And she did make me beautiful cards and pictures. We ordered a heart shaped pizza to celebrate as well.
I asked Michelle what she wanted to do that day and she wanted a trip to Play Place. We hadn't been in a while. My Mom wanted a visit as well. Now that I wasn't working I wasn't seeing her nearly as often. My Mom was actually relieved she didn't have to watch Michelle now because my Mom hasn't been feeling well and Michelle can be exhausting. Still, my Mom was missing us and wanted a visit. I decided we could come for the day and stay over then visit with May for Family Day. So I took my Mom shopping, let Michelle play at Play Place and then we stayed at Grandma's. Michelle was happy to have me there with her for a change. Usually going to Grandma's meant that I was rushing off to work and leaving her.
In a million years I can't imagine going up to a total stranger and saying "Hi!" Even as a child. If they didn't come to me, I just didn't meet them.
I enjoy just living vicariously through Michelle and watching her have fun. I'm more comfortable on the sidelines watching her and snapping photos.
I was thinking it was just going to be water. No biggie. What I hadn't counted on was the MUD. Michelle wound up with wet, muddy pants and boots. Muddy water INSIDE her boots. But she had a ball so it was worth it. I just had to put her boots upside down and wash her pants.
I was debating whether this would be the year we'd take her training wheels off and have Michelle learn to ride on two wheels. I want her to learn of course and to feel independent, but at the same time of course the control freak in me is TERRIFIED! I can imagine nervously running along side her while she tries to get her balance. I will have to get her some really good knee and shoulder pads as well! I can't remember who taught me to ride a bike. I guess it was my Mom and dad. It will be hard for me to let go. To have Michelle try (and possibly fail) to ride a two wheeler on her own. Maybe we'll wait til next year...
I love to see Michelle running around and having fun. After the incident the last time we went to the playground Michelle knew to check in with me periodically so I wouldn't worry. She was pretty good about coming over to say Hey Mom every so often. (Of course she was also usually dying of thirst from running around and wanted a sip of her water so it wasn't JUST to calm Mama's nerves!) I love watching her play and getting pictures of her. A lot of the other parents don't even seem to watch their kids, unless they're very young. Most people are glued to their cellphones/tablets.
Michelle and me, riding on a rainbow. I love this picture. I love all of her pictures but this one especially. She did two drawings, one of us in the rain and the next us riding a rainbow. I guess that the message is not to worry about the rain. It will be OK and we will be riding rainbows in no time.I try not to pay attention to the horrors in the news anymore. Sometimes my Mom calls me to tell me when something has happened or I may catch a disturbing Twitter trend when I'm online for a few minutes. But mostly I don't want to know. I limit my Twitter time to a few minutes here and there. And I have one show a week that I watch/tweet. (Usually just reality TV -- the Bachelor franchise and Survivor.) Most people watch like 10 shows. I usually only have one at a time. At work I was in front of a computer for 12 hours. I think the less time I spend in front of a screen the better. The times I feel the most zen -- while doing yoga, reading, writing and painting, playing guitar, going somewhere beautiful with Michelle -- are when I am not glued to a screen. Though admittedly writing this blog is therapeutic as well so I do spend some time on the computer. This has taken me months to write though -- a little bit here and there rather than all at once.
I told her you're supposed to go DOWN slides, not up them but she was determined. She kept slipping and laughing until finally she made it up. I managed to capture this moment while she was halfway up, grinning ear to ear. Sitting in the sunshine, watching Michelle laugh and have fun I could feel the knot in my stomach loosen. I could feel my breathing slow down. I could be mindful for a few moments and just take it all in. Life is good. For a few moments here and there I manage to stop worrying, stop thinking and just BE PRESENT to enjoy the moment. But then I'm right back to thinking again from the trivial questions: "What am I going to make for dinner?" to the bigger more stressful ones: "What am I going to do with my life?!"
For moments here and there I can find my zen. When I'm in the sunshine with Michelle, or at the Butterfly Conservatory, or doing yoga. For moments I can feel strong, safe, at peace. And life is beautiful and I'm OK. But it's the unpleasant moments that I struggle with. When things go wrong, in stressful situations, in bad traffic, when faced with the ugliness of the world. I have to find a way to keep my peace, even in the midst of chaos. That's the hardest thing to learn and I'm not there yet. I'm hoping to get there. Because life is not perfect and it's not all sunshine and rainbows and you have to be able to face difficulties head on without falling apart.
I knew that I relied on therapy but I didn't realize just how much until one day at the end of the month I showed up for my session and the office was in darkness and there was a note on the door that my appointment was cancelled. My therapist had a personal emergency and couldn't make it. I was in shock. The office had tried to call but I was already on my way. That session each week really helped to ground me. Now I was kind of in limbo. I left the building in a daze. It felt like I was cast adrift, rudderless. I realized how much I depended on those sessions. To have someone really listen, a detached observer, a wise and sympathetic ear to tell me everything would be OK. I needed that. Now I just felt lost. Hollow. I didn't know what to do with myself. I needed some groceries so I went to No Frills but I wandered around like a zombie. I felt alien to everything around me. I didn't even know what I was doing. One of my exes, a Scientologist, would have called it "not being in Present Time." It was the opposite of Mindful. I was Mindless. I was just floating in a daze. Somehow I made it home.
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