Will the real Sam Silver, please stand up?

As bad days go, this one probably doesn’t rank with some of my worst.  Nonetheless, the overwhelming urge to bawl my eyeballs out will not allow me one restful moment.  From the minute the alarm sounded I fought that lump in my throat.  But why? What could possibly make me want to cry at 5:00 a.m. when I’m not even technically alive yet?  My morning had definitely gotten the best of me at that point.  I tried to persevere with a fake smile in the hopes that my weakness wouldn’t be noticed.  Call me crazy, but my husband either knew I was a little off, was having a tough morning himself or his ‘crazy’ radar was driving him insane.  Everything out of his mouth and on his face was negative from the get go.  Wrinkled eyebrows, foul words, arms flailing as he criticized himself in the mirror, sluggish steps, and attitude like that of a 15 year old boy.  That was my perception, anyway.  As the tea kettle started to steam and whistle in my head, he muttered the words ‘ok’ and I lost it.  What? Really? Crocodile tears, I tell you.

According to my family doctor, I’m a mess.  Like I needed her to tell me that?  All these years of staying so busy, making everyone happy and trying like hell to be in control of my life have finally caught up to me.  Not to mention nearing that over the hill mark.  I assume most people my age think they’re getting old fast.  And I was told by that big, black button I wore on my birthday 5 years ago that I’m already over the hill.  But I don’t listen to big, black buttons.  They’re terrible conversationalists. 

The little man stayed with Grandma and Papa last night so I was all alone, getting ready for work after my husband left this morning.  While I like to relish any alone time I may get, this morning was not one of those times.  I felt like a child in need of their mothers’ hugs and comfort.  I just wanted to sit and cry in someones’ arms until that pit in my stomach disappeared.  I wanted to be able to get it out of my system and just move on.  But as it usually does, being alone gave me time to really think about some of the things that contribute to my recent depression.  Yes, I said it, depression.  I am depressed.  I am clinically, emotionally, physically and in every other way…depressed.  I know I need to eat better. I know I need to exercise.  I know I need to slow down sometimes, take time for myself, not let all the little things get to me, drink more water….all that good stuff.  I know.  I also need some self discipline.  Where do I find that?  Once I got past the bulk of the pity I was feeling for myself I tried to think a little more seriously of the things that could possibly have me feeling this way.  As I psychoanalyzed myself I shed more tears and even threw a few things.  But I also felt a little bit of relief.  I don’t want to be that person that only calls her friends and family when she needs to vent.  I don’t want to burden anyone with my issues.  I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me or fix me.  I am, however, a firm believer in cleansing your mind and body when you feel so overwhelmed and depressed by leaning on the people that love you the most.  I consider myself one of those people.  The one being leaned upon. When my loved ones need me, I’m there.  I listen.  I advise.  I comfort.  I scold.  Whatever it takes, I give what I think they need from me.  It might not always be what they want, but when you are on the outside looking in, things are sometimes a little more clear.  If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t say anything at all.  Except maybe, “Here’s a quarter.”  That’s not me. I would never do that.  But you get my point. 

So what could possibly have put me over the edge this morning…or at this point in my life?  Should I start with my childhood memories or just the things that have taken a toll since I’ve been old enough to know better?  This could be quite the novel. The first 4-5 years of my life are sketchy.  How many people remember those years, anyway?  My parents fought a lot when I was little, some of that I do remember.  They split when I was 4.  My mother passed just before I turned 9 from an automobile accident.  My step father was a drunk.  I never forgave him.  He passed last year after suffering from some form of cancer.  I didn’t keep up with it because it was too painful to care.  I’m not heartless.  I just don’t know how to forgive him.  In my mind, that’s God’s job.  The older I get the more I realize it’s hurting me more to be so angry at him after 27 years than it would to forgive and move on.  Again, I just don’t know how.  Growing up without my mother was hard in a lot of ways but I did have some pretty amazing people to guide me most of the way.  They weren’t my mother.  But I couldn’t have done it without them.  My father and step mother fought all the time, just as he did with my mother.  I remember more of their fighting because it happened all the way into my twenties.  My father and I butted heads a few dozen times.  I disagreed with him a lot.  I didn’t like the way he lived his life or the way he treated the women in his life.  He wasn’t a terrible father.  He always provided food and shelter for us.  He tried to plan things as a family like fishing and camping trips.  He thought us things we could never learn in school, like how to put a roof on a house, how to build a shed, how to fix a busted head gasket, how to stop a bleeding wound.  He was handy that way.  There was a lot of knowledge in that noggin of his.  I miss that.  I lost him last year, on my mother’s birthday.  His addiction had gotten the best of him.  I can’t say I didn’t see it coming but you can never be prepared for the loss of a parent.  He wasn’t perfect but he was all I had left.  Losing him made the hole in my heart grow bigger.  Hopefully he isn’t giving my mother too much grief up there.  My grandmother passed just before I found out I was pregnant with my oldest son.  It was a difficult loss for me because I had been living with her and my grandfather after running away from home and escaping the mental abuse of my father.  My grandmother was a pillar for our family.  She was amazing.  I felt like I had taken advantage of her and my grandfather and then abandoned them by moving in with a boyfriend right after they fought for me in court.  She passed…and I was feeling bad about not being there to do something to prevent it.  My grandfather has been living alone since 1993 and I rarely make it over to see him.  I’m a terrible granddaughter.  My dad’s dad and step mother both passed in recent years, as did his step dad.  I wasn’t nearly as close to them as I am my mother’s parents.  But it was hard, nonetheless.  My grandmother, on my father’s side lives in Tennessee and has been suffering for years from diabetes, some other physical ailments and depression, I’m sure.  I obviously don’t get to see her much.  But I don’t talk to her much either.  Again, I’m a terrible granddaughter.  I’m so busy I can’t find time to call my grandmother and tell her I love her? 

My first husband is not a bad person.  We all have issues, I can’t judge.  But it was one hell of a 7 year rollercoaster ride. Like the song says, sometimes, love just ain’t enough.  We get along better now.  I worry constantly about my 17 year old son.  Aside from the misery of him growing up and growing away from me I constantly worry about his future.  He’s extremely emotional, like his momma.  He’s such a sweet, loving kid. I hope he doesn’t let people take advantage of him. 

I’ve been with Barry for 11 years.  Our story is unique and maybe not everyone sees it the way I do, but I like to brag.  We fit together like puzzle pieces.  Our opinions differ often, but we mesh well. We make sense.  We thrive off one another.  We need each other.  Where I’m weak, he’s strong. Where he loses his patience, I can see the bigger picture.  It hasn’t been all rainbows and butterflies but it’s what works for us.  We’ve both had hurdles and fast balls and we’ve helped each other get through adversity each time it’s stared us in the face.  I realize now that from the beginning, I knew my life wouldn’t be right without him.  It wasn’t something that hit me on our honeymoon or a few years into our relationship.  I’ve always known.  I’ve also realized that I can still be the same person I’ve always been, listening, loving, comforting, and nurturing….but I need to take the time to let him do those things for me too.  I know that I’m a good person but I am not super woman.  And while I thought I was taking care of everyone and everything, the most important thing in the mix was being overlooked.  Me.  I can’t take care of anyone or anything if I don’t take care of me.  I wish I would’ve realized this a long time ago.  But I still have a lot of years ahead of me, hopefully.  Our son is quite unmistakably a mirror image of us both.  He’s ADHD, but I’ll never refer to him as ‘that poor little boy’.  He’s very much a happy kid.  He’s smart as a whip and he never, ever, ever slows down!  As the years go by, his non stop personality seems to get even busier.  Or maybe it’s just me slowing down and now dealing with it as well.  He’s a little OCD, but so are we. He’s very in touch with his emotions, but so are we.  And much like us, he’s very reactive.  That can be good or bad…for any one of us! We lost a baby 2 years ago.  I don’t want to say we ‘tried’ to get pregnant for 5 years but we didn’t try not to, that’s for sure.  When we found out we were expecting we couldn’t have been happier.  I had my moments, afraid of the future, finances, and turning another tiny soul into a replica of me and my craziness. That little bundle of joy was due to arrive on my birthday, too. Oh, the irony. But over all, I was over the moon and hoping for a daughter. Speaking of daughters, my step daughter is graduating and turning 18 this summer.  If that’s not enough to make me feel beyond my years, I don’t know what would!  We’ve always gotten along pretty well, if you don’t count last years set back.  The relationship between us and my mother in law was strained for a short time but I think we understand each other better now.  With the recent health issues my mother in law is facing concerning her breast cancer diagnosis, everything else seems moot.  That really put things in perspective for all of us.  I wish I had a magic wand or some super power that would take her pain away.  She’s such a beautiful person, I hate seeing her suffer.  I hate to see anyone suffer.  I’m always in tune with the feelings of my friends and family, I wonder why it’s so difficult to deal with my own.

Instead of worrying about the dishes being done right after dinner, the living room being spotless just in case someone stops over unannounced, the laundry being caught up all the time, the pictures hanging straight on the wall, the dogs not drinking out of the toilet, and which way the toilet paper rolls…..instead of worrying about what people think of every little thing I do, crying because I feel inadequate as a mother and a wife, complaining that I don’t have the time I need to do the things I want to do, and losing my patience because no one around me knows how to drive…instead of wondering if my husband is second guessing his decision to marry me, hoping he isn’t losing interest because I’m becoming such a basket case, crying because I wouldn’t blame him if he was, worrying that I’m lacking in the parenting arena, feeling sorry for my ADHD son who would be oblivious if he didn’t hear me ‘worrying’ about it out loud, feeling guilty that my child got that gene from my crazy ass and hoping beyond hope that it goes away someday…instead of worrying that my job is at stake, wondering if I’ll need to look for a new job any time soon, doubting that I can stay in this field of work much  longer because of the mental anguish I suffer from dealing with alleged criminals, wondering if my bosses think I’m slipping and driving my self crazy with all the little things….I am going to try to let go and live. 

I think I know myself pretty well and I know I’m not what any better person would consider perfect.  I am controlling.  I am bossy.  I am impatient.  I am argumentative.  I am sassy and sarcastic.  I am a know-it-all.  I am short tempered.  I am horrible at using my time wisely.  I am pessimistic.  I am strict.  I am a grudge holder. I’m slightly OCD.  I’m a worry wart.  I pace when I’m nervous.  I grind my teeth.  I’m hard headed.  I’m not a push over.  I’m blunt.  I’m outspoken.  I talk too much.  I speak without thinking.  I can be overbearing.  I’m stubborn.  I’m strong willed and weak hearted.  I’m irrational and I’m analytical.   

I know that my husband and my children love me.  I know that I make a positive difference in their lives.  I know that my mother and father would be proud of me.  I know that I am not perfect and that I can’t fix what’s wrong over night.  But I can be a better ‘me’. It wasn’t until this very point in my life that I realized that I can’t do it alone.  I can’t keep struggling on the inside and pretending that it’s ok on the outside.  I can’t take care of my family if I’m struggling with my own demons.  I’m walking a thin line and I’m no acrobat.  I’m going to fall.  I’m going to lose control and everything I’ve ever worked hard at in my life will mean nothing.  I can’t let that happen.  I can’t change my past, I can’t bring back the dead.  I can’t relive any part of my life that didn’t go the way I think it should have.  I can’t make my mother in laws' cancer go away.  I can’t help my grandfather breathe better.  I can’t erase my sons' attention deficit issues.  That bothers me.  That is what I think I should be able to do, but I can’t.  If I take things one day at a time I’m sure it’ll get easier.  It’ll get better.  But I need to find a way to convince myself that I can’t change everything and it won’t happen over night.  I’ll never stop praying…no matter how often it feels like my cries are not heard.  I’ll try to drown the negative with all the positive I can muster.  I’ll kill my enemies with kindness and I’ll replace my woes with accomplishments.  I won’t procrastinate because it will only prolong my sadness.  I’ll cry but I’ll laugh, too.  I’ll face my short comings while I’m educating my children on what not to do.  I want to curl up in a ball, hide in a corner in the dark and cry for hours on end until the hurt, the confusion and the shame goes away. But if I am the mother that I know my children deserve to have and the wife my husband deserves to have, I will do whatever I have to do to take care of me, starting today. 

I often write when my emotions are overflowing for one reason or the other.  It’s therapeutic.  I also think that somehow, my psyche needs attention from the people that love me enough to read what I write.  Without you, it wouldn’t matter what I said, anyway.  We all need recognition.  We all need someone to care.  We may already know that you care, but it always helps to hear it.  So criticize at will…I love you, anyway. And thanks, again.  You always bring out the best in me. ;-)