I keep having nightmares. Last night it was that a dog tried to eat the teddy bear I’ve had since I was a kid. It made me feel like I had lost stability. This teddy bear, who has been with … Continue reading
I just wrote a post about Titanic. How it has been analogous for our TTC journey. And I’ve been writing it as I watch the movie. I just got to the part where the band is playing “Nearer My God … Continue reading
This fertility joufney has been so long and so hard. Some days I do really well and other days I feel like my emotions are too big for me to even identify, let alone unravel and process. Sometimes when my … Continue reading
Infertility is your heart breaking every mother’s day, every Father’s day, and crying when you walk down the baby aisle. Infertility is medications and shots, bruises and side effects. Its trying, hoping, praying, crying, mourning jealousy, anger, fear your dream … Continue reading
If you’ve followed my blog for years, then you know the struggles we have had with infertility and our devastating loss of our first pregnancy, a baby we named Jamie. Well, last year we started fertility treatments and are doing … Continue reading
Hi Grandma!
man it’s been a busy couple of months! Sorry I haven’t written in so long-it’s so hard to find the time. So I thought I’d type you a letter and try and get you all caught up. (I can type a lot faster than I can write, plus I bet this is easier on your eyes!)
Work is good. I’m officially the second in command in the Deli, which is pretty cool. Between Thanksgiving and Christmas we were slammed. We are in charge of making all the party trays, like fruit trays, meat trays, etc, so that keeps us hopping. Our department is also responsible for Ready-To-Eat Thanksgiving and Christmas meals. They come with a cooked turkey, a bunch of sides and a dessert. Every year we have a charitable organization that buys a whole bunch of meals to give to low income families, and I’ve been in charge of managing that for the last two years. This year, the organization bought 75 meals to give away! And then we got about 50 more dinner orders on top of that, and that doesn’t even count the party trays. So I worked a lot in November. December wasn’t as bad, but it was still really crazy.
At the end of November, Rob accepted a job as an assistant store manager at a Walgreens a few towns over. He really likes it so far, which is great, but adjusting to both of us working full-time retail at the holidays was really hectic. Luckily we both had Christmas off, so we got to spend the day together! We played board games and watched a movie. It was a very nice, very quiet Christmas. How was your Christmas? Did you do anything special?
New Year’s Eve I started feeling sick on the 1st I woke up with a cough and a fever. Uh-oh! I took a home Covid test that day, and it was negative, but I kept feeling worse, so the next day I went to Urgent Care and tested positive for Covid. I quarantined for 10 days, and during that time Rob got sick too. Double Covid for us! We took turns ordering delivery meals, sleeping, and watching movies. Being sick wasn’t fun, but it was super nice to have 2 weeks together. It was really hard when we had to re-enter the “real world”.
In early January I was supposed to fly to LA to visit Amanda, but Covid ruined that. We were going to drive down to San Diego and explore, including going to Baja. Actually, our first plan was to go on a cruise. We had everything booked, and then cruises started to shut down again. We got a refund and used that money to book our San Diego trip, but then had to get refunds from that trip too! Luckily we got all our money back–we bought the travel insurance. Good thing too!
I’m not sure if Mom and Dad have told you, but Rob and I are starting fertility treatments! We’ve been working on it quietly since the end of the summer, getting tests done, blood work, the whole nine yards. This Thursday we have our big IVF planning appointment. It’s when we will get the results of all the tests and find out how good our odds are of conceiving. We’ve been looking forward to this for so long, and we are so excited to add to our family. We have egg extraction (the first step of invitro fertilization (IVF)) in early March and will have the embryos developed to implant at a later date. I’ll be sure and let you know when we have news to share!
I’m going down to Mom and Dads for Lunar New Year this Sunday. We always have a big family meal for Lunar New Year, but last year we couldn’t have it due to lockdown. Instead we all got our own Chinese food and talked over video chat. I’m really looking forward to it.
Rob and I got a subscription to an ancestry website and have been working on our family trees to pass onto our future kiddo. It’s been fun learning about our family history.
Being in quarantine gave me a lot of time to read and watch movies. I think Encanto was my favorite of all the movies I watched. Have you seen it? It’s a new Disney movie about a family with magical powers. The music is super catchy and all of my friends and I have the songs stuck in our head all the time, but the music is so good! The movie was written by Lin-Manuel Miranda, the same guy who wrote Hamilton. Oh! Madison, Mom, and Dad went to see Hamilton for Madison’s 16th birthday. They said it was really good. I still haven’t seen it, even though it’s on Disney+. Have you seen it?
I hope everything is good out in AZ! I sure miss you!
love you lots
Laura (and Rob too)
Today I was starting to beat myself up because I am too tired to do a full workout. And right now a full workout is only 20 minutes instead of an hour like it used to be so I was feeling guilty about that.
But yesterday I did my first Joyn workout video and I caught the negative self talk. Joyn is a body positive *free* workout website that I discovered a few days ago. The instructor in the video I followed closed out the video with asking anyone watching the video to thank their body for all it can do. And the whole time during the workout she was saying things like “you’re doing it!” And “I’m proud of you”
None of the “go faster” or “feel the burn” that I associate with exercise classes. Now don’t get me wrong, I have had some wonderful exercise instructors, but none of them came at exercise with a body positive attitude.
And it made such a difference.
I have always struggled with my weight and self image, especially lately. I used to be able to do a lot of things that I can’t right now, and every time I exercise I can feel the difference in my body’s abilities. That’s a really hard thing.
But looking at exercise as “being kind to my body” and not as “something I have to do because I’m fat” is helping a lot.
So today, when I started down the rabbit hole of “you’re not doing good enough” I thought of the instructor and her kindness towards her body. Towards the bodies of everyone watching her class. And I corrected the thought.
“I’m tired and so I’m going to pick one small exercise today and tomorrow when I’m better rested I will get back to a video so I can get in better shape”
And then I stopped.
Because I had thought “shape”. And I don’t associate “shape” with health. I associate “shape ” with guilt, self hatred, pressure, and a whole lot of other really negative things.
So I’m changing it. I’m trying to get in better health.
It’s not about eating the lowest calorie foods and feeling guilty when I eat a treat. It’s about giving my body the fuel it needs, as well as the occasional indulgence. Because that’s good for you too.
It’s not about doing the hardest exercise and being the most impressive. It’s about strengthening and maintaining my muscles and joints so they last me a long time.
It’s not about a number on the scale or clothing size. It’s about how well I sleep. How much pain I have. How my blood work numbers are.
Because I am so tired of hating my body. I want to take it back. To reclaim this body that is the only one I’m ever gonna get. And it isn’t perfect. But it has survived some devastating things, and for that I am thankful.
So I’m going to be kind to it.
Writing helps me process. It always has. But I haven’t written regularly in several years.
I want to get back to it. I want to heal. I’m doing EMDR again and it’s helping but I can’t rely on one hour every other week to process everything I’m carrying.
So I’m trying to do what I know helps.
Writing. Running.
I logged into my blog today for the first time in almost a year. I’m going to sign up for a gym membership. I’m going to make myself a priority.
Even though it’s hard.
When I was about eight years old I was in girl scouts, and my mom was one of the leaders. I remember being at the other leaders house and walking in on her and my mom talking. I listened for a minute and then walked closer, because I realized they were talking about me.
And then I felt the fear and the dread wash over me. She wasn’t just talking about me, she was complaining about me.
But I didn’t understand. I didn’t do anything wrong.
This was the time in my childhood when I was struggling with being bullied. With gaining weight. When i first started having migraines. It was one of the hardest times in my life.
And she was complaining about how all of those difficulties, all of those terrible things I was facing, were hard on her.
Not how she hated to see me in pain.
Not how she wanted to know how she could help.
No.
It was how it was so hard to be my mom because my struggles made life difficult for her.
The person who is supposed to love you the most is frustrated and upset–not because you did something wrong–but because you were going through something big and hard and it was causing them problems. It was awful to realize that this is how she felt. Like it was a burden to be my mom. Like I was a burden.
They told me to leave the room. That it didn’t concern me. That it was a private conversation. But it was too late. I had heard enough.
And it wasn’t an isolated incident. My mom once told me that she didn’t start gaining weight until I started having problems. She always got frustrated when I outgrew clothes from overeating. One time I studied really hard for a test in a subject I was struggling with, and I was overjoyed when I got a B. I called to tell her, feeling so proud, and she said “Why wasn’t it an A”. Anytime I had a panic attack before school. Or a migraine that caused plans to change. I’ve heard her complain about my little sisters in similar manners.
And I still carry all of that with me.
I still worry what people I care about say about me when I’m not around. Do they really care about me? Or do they just wait until I’m not around to tell the truth? I’m always expecting to be blindsided. To find out that what I thought I knew was actually a lie. And that is so hard. To always expect the other shoe to drop. To always be on guard that I’m going to get hurt.
I still feel like a burden. Like I can’t be who I am because it might cause life to be hard for someone else. If I have a migraine or am dealing with mental health issues, I don’t think about what I need to do to heal. Instead I think about how I’m causing problems to everyone around me.
I still feel like I have no value outside what others place on me. Like I have to earn my value. So I have gotten really good at reading people to know what they need. That way I can be who they need.
The listener. The comedian. The counselor.
When someone wants to be there for me it makes me physically and emotionally uncomfortable. I can’t stop thinking that it must be a trap. A trick. They can’t actually value me enough to support me. So I don’t really ask for help. I don’t really say that I’m struggling. I think that’s why I don’t share this blog with anyone I know. Besides my husband.
Because I need to say these things.
But I can’t.
For my therapy I am supposed to write a letter to my parents telling them all the things I don’t feel that I can tell them in person, so here goes.
I hate that I can’t talk to you about this. I used to think that we could talk about anything, but over the last few years I’ve realized that we don’t really talk about anything serious. We don’t talk about how dad always gives in to mom. We don’t talk about how you lied to us about premarital sex and drove a giant wedge through our family. We don’t talk about how mom is maniuplative and how it really seems like you two don’t acutally have a marriage.
I wish that I could talk to you both in person about this.
Dad, maybe I could talk to you. Maybe. But I don’t want you to have to keep this from mom and put a strain on your relationship. But I feel like you would actually listen.
I remember when you were diagnosed with cancer and you apologized for missing the abuse. You said that all parents miss things, but that was a pretty big one and you were sorry. I really appreciated that.
At the time I told you it was okay, that I hid it from everyone and there was no way you could know. But I’ve been thinking and I’m not sure that’s true. I was 6. I know how scared and broken I felt. I’ve worked with kids going through traumatic things and there are definite warning signs. Did you not know them? Did you not pay attention? Were you too wrapped up in whatever drama Mom was putting you through that you missed all the pain i was in?
I know Amanda noticed, at least a little. she wrote about it once. Do you remember the game we used to play, the “i wish i had a princess’ game? Where I was the princess in a story and you were my hero? Did you notice that I stoped playing that? To be honest, I didn’t. I didn’t even remember that game until I read the story Amanda wrote. I think I was too busy trying to survive to play anymore.
But why didn’t you notice?
I remember that Mom would spend most Saturdays in bed, and that’s when you, Amanda and I would play that game. Is that why you didn’t notice? Was she depressed? Were you too wrapped up in her to notice your kids?
Did you ever stop to think how much you give in to her? How when we would vote on things, mom always got extra votes? You gave her everything. You play into her narcissism and call it love. She takes advantage of you in every way and I hate it.
Actually, I wonder if that’s why I believed him. Because I saw you give everything to Mom, so I thought I had to give everything to him.
Overall, you really have been a great parent. You have taught me to be generous, kind and so many other things. But when it comes to mom, you really set a bad example. You don’t show your emotions, you always give in to her, you never stand up for yourself. Being kind is good, being a doormat is not.
Mom, there are so many things I want to say to you, but I know that it will never do any good. You don’t listen and you won’t grow. You make everything about yourself. You make a big deal about how much you love and care for those around you but you are selfish and have no empathy. You love your children because they give you attention, and when they don’t do that any more, you lose interest in us or try to control us. You want to be the hero, the center of attention, but you don’t actually want to help others.
I know that you had a messed up childhood, and I’m sorry that you had to go through that. It isn’t fair. But you have no right to perpetuate the cycle of being a selfish parent. You should have gotten help. You should have been willing to grow.
That was one of the hardest things for me to come to grips with, that you would never be willing to grow. It still hurts to think about. That I’ll never really have a mom who will love and support me the way a mom should. Becasue you can’t. You’re not mature enough. Everything will always be about you.
Even my struggles as kid you made about yourself. I remember you telling me that you didn’t start to gain weight until I started to struggle. Do you have any idea what that does to a child? Telling them that? Blaming me for your weight gain? I saw how much you hated your body and I felt responsible. You made me feel respsonsible. That wasn’t fair. You had no right to say that to me.
Even when I was struggling with all my health issues, my anxiety, you acted as if it was such a huge burden on you. Like Iwas making life difficult for you. And maybe that’s not fair of me to say, but that’s how it felt. You didn’t ask why I was over eating, you just subtly shamed me when I outgrew clothes. You acted annoyed that I was heavy. You took me to a dietician as if I was broken or doing something wrong instead of talking to me. Fighting with me and getting annoyed when I didn’t want to go clothes shopping instead of asking why I didn’t want to go.
You watched me have panic attacks every single day before school from 5th grade to 8th. That’s not normal. I know that you managed to get me out of Mr Kennedys class, but what about the other 3 years? Why didn’t you get me help? Why didn’t you ask a doctor instead of telling me to pray? Teaching me bible verses and songs was nice, but it clearly didn’t work. Why didn’t you help me? Did you see my struggling as a sign of your failure as parent? Were you not willing to admit that you needed help parenting? You did that when the girls were little. Dad was willing to ask my adivce on behavior issues, but you were convinced that you didnt need help. It took you weeks before you would actually listen to me.
Do you have any idea how much I suffered? Do you know how much of it you caused?
Why didn’t you protect me? You are my parents. I know logically that it wasn’t your fault that he did those things to me, but why didn’t you protect me afterwards? From everything else? How did you not see that I was suffering? I had changed so much so quickly. It feels like you didn’t care. I was alone. It was so hard to be alone. At 8 I had to learn that I couldn’t count on my parents, that Icouldn’t count on anyone. No child should have to learn that at 8.
Last night I dreamt that I yelled at my parents for not protecting me as a child.
Over the last few weeks I’ve come to realize that I’ve peeled another layer back on my trauma. I have faced the abuse itself , but not really the after effects. I imagine everyone has different after effects from their trauma, but here are a few of mine: negative body image (including a probable eating disorder), feeling like I have to earn everything, including (especially) friendship, extreme doubt in myself and my self worth, and more that I’m still discovering.
One that I just (re)learned about is that I really don’t trust anyone. I feel like I can’t rely on anyone. That I can only depend on me. I realized that one pretty early-on growing up, but I thought that I had moved past it with the EMDR therapy, and in my relationship with my husband. But in my dream last night my parents were telling me they were trying to protect me and I screamed at them that they didn’t protect me the first time, that I will protect myself.
And when I woke up, I realize it was true.
I was 6.
Someone should have protected me. Every time my parents tried to help, things got worse. When they confronted the school about the molestation, I lost all of my friends. When they talked to the teachers, the bullying got worse.
I drastically changed in a very short time. Did they not notice? I don’t remember them asking why all of a sudden I didn’t want to play the same games I used to. I don’t remember them asking why I no longer went over to play at any of my friend’s houses.
I do remember my mom asking why I didn’t want to wear dresses anymore, and I made up an excuse.
They’ve said before they didn’t know how they missed it, and I always told them that it was because I hid it. But could could have really hidden it that well? I was just a little kid.
Now, for the first time, I am angry. Angry that no one protected me. Angry that I was alone. Angry that as a little kid I was going through the worst I had (and have) ever faced and had no one.
No one should be alone when they’re suffering. Let alone a child.
Last night, my little sister called me.
She struggles with depression and has been having a hard time. She told her “friends” about her struggles and they told the rest of the school. Who then proceeded to make fun of her.
This is not okay. Needless to say, these people are not her friends anymore. But now she feels alone, different and scared.
I have also been that kid in the bathroom with tears running down my face, scared to be in the same room as the other kids. That teen who was petrified that someone “found out” I saw a psychiatrist. That person who wished I was “normal”.
This needs to end. Mental health is no different than any other kind of health, and we as a culture need to start treating it as such. I have depression, anxiety, PTSD, and most likely had an eating disorder/body dysmorphia (I’m still learning about myself)
And I have learned (am still learning) to accept these about myself. But, it has been a long, hard road.
Longtime readers will know that while I might write sporadically, I write extremely truthfully. I don’t filter, I don’t censor. Writing is one of my ways to process and to heal, and that just doesn’t work if I’m not completely honest with myself.
So I am honest. Brutally honest. I write the things i have wanted to say but never had the courage to say. I am honest about my fears, my struggles, my triumphs. I am honest with every single word, every tear that hits the keyboard.
And in turn, that means I’m honest with my readers. But the thing is, I don’t know my readers and they don’t know me (other than my husband) The anonymity felt safe.
But the anonymity was also selfish. It meant I wasn’t willing to fight so that what happened to me–and is now happening to my sister–will never happen again. Its time to #endthestigma around mental health, and that won’t happen until we normalize mental health.
So hi, my name is Laura. And I am sharing my blog, name and picture publicly for the first time to help #endthestigma around mental health.
Let’s end this together
Our whole lives we are taught to do things a certain way. We’re told this is the ‘right way’. But what if how we chose to do things was defined as the right way?
Today I took my first yoga class. During one pose a student asked how the right way was to hold the block and what the instructor told me has been stuck in my heart ever since.
She said, however you chose to do it is the right way.
What if we all started living life this way. However I choose to feel is the right way.
However I choose to live is the right way.
However I choose to exist is the right way.
Can you imagine what a radical change that would be?
Never feeling like you are ‘bad’ because you do things differently. Never being told that how you stand, walk, talk, dance, create, is the wrong way. Because it isn’t. It’s just your way.
We teach our children this is how you tie your shoes, this is how you hold a pencil, this is how you draw. We tell them that this is how you do ‘x’ and if you don’t do it this way then you’re wrong. But how can it be wrong if it works for you?
I have spent most of my life trying to do things the ‘right way’. Trying to gain everyone’s approval. Somehow trying to turn myself into a mirror that reflects the things other people like.
But what if I stopped.
What if I started telling myself, this is how I choose to live my life and what I choose is right for me. There is no wrong. Only different.
And different is beautiful.
Today I cancelled plans to have lunch with friends. Instead, I am staying home so I can cry.
At first I was mad at myself. I felt like a failure. I was cancelling at the last minute on friends who love me because the fear inside my head was getting too big. Fear that had nothing to do with being around them but was present nonetheless.
But then I realized that these people love me.
They LOVE me.
And if someone I love is struggling I would want them to take care of themselves. Just like they want me to take care of myself.
So often with mental illness we get trapped by the word ‘should’. I should be able to do this. I shouldn’t feel this way.
And in the past few weeks, I’ve discovered I hate that word
should
It has a connotation of guilt. And I’m tired of feeling guilty about my emotions and my needs.
Did I want to go to lunch with my friends? Absolutely! But I know that what I needed was to stay home and take care of myself.
AND THAT’S OKAY
So that’s what I’m doing. Today I am able to have perspective and know that it is okay to do what I need. Tomorrow I might not remember that, and so that is why I am writing this down. To remind myself. And–hopefully–to encourage someone else.
Ignore the should. Do what you need.
Things I Need to Say 