I have been trying to expand to new ways of thinking.  One of my problem areas (emotionally) is that I am extremely territorial.  It is hard for me to open up completely to people.  I am weird in that my life is basically an open book but when someone wants to come in and becomes too close to the point where I feel threatened, I back off.

It’s not that I desire to be the queen-bee, insecurity is the name of the game here.  Feelings of inadequacy surface time after time and the only way I feel on top of my game in my life (i.e. with husb and the kids) is to push everyone who continues to become close to me… away.

Some days I think that if I were a dog, i’d be a little ankle biter dog.

Anyway, one of my source problems is with my Mother-in-law.  I think she is a fantastic lady and extremely kind and generous.  However, there is another part to her that I don’t understand.  She always wants to “help” me and in a way, it makes me feel inadequate.  She also uses terms around the kids like… “hey Owen, are you grandma’s boy?”  OR  “Hi grandma’s girl!”  (the last said to my daughter).  I don’t know why… but sometimes I feel that she feels that I am inadequate at being a mom and wife.  So, I push her away.  I don’t want to get to close because i’m not altogether sure what she thinks of me or what she wants from me.

We do this dance, MIL and I… where we get close and then not-so-close.  It’s confusing… this hot and cold relationship of ours.

Since having the third baby, she has been around a lot more wanting to help.  All of my insides scream “NOOO!” because I am afraid of losing ground or afraid that she might think I am weak and cannot handle the responsibilities of being a mom and wife.   The more logical and at this point tired part of my brain feels that she just wants to be close to us.  ALL of us… including me.  She wants a good relationship with her grandchildren and husb and I.

So, I have been letting her come over and help.  My guard has been down with her and though I feel uneasy about it sometimes, I am trying to get closer to her.

I haven’t figured out why I have this problem.  It is like I am so afraid of her rejection.  Maybe it is because all of my other boyfriends had parents who disapproved of me.  So this is my way of making sure that doesn’t happen again.

Husb and I are extremely committed to our marriage and eachother.  Still… I can’t help but feeling as though the marriage is a delicate flower that I need to protect fiercely.

In any case, I truly am trying to be more warm and open with my MIL.  Maybe she’ll come to truly love me some day.

I don’t want to jinx it but I have been feeling really good lately.  I feel like I am more able to breath and that the world holds a multitude of opportunity and joy once again.

Why is life so moment to moment?  Just as I feel good today with good thoughts and good will toward fellow human beings, tomorrow could be the exact opposite.  It never ceases to amaze me how life takes on a different aura every day, week, month, year.

So you know how I have discussed in previous entries that I am overweight and that my feelings toward being overweight are far from a “fat positive” point of view.  Recently, I decided that I need to quit punishing myself for being overweight.  I have failed to search or buy myself cute clothes for almost 2 years.  That means, I wore old jeans that didn’t fit right or (1 year into it), a couple of different pairs of sweat pants and whatever t-shirt my husband had clean.  Ouch.  No wonder I was so depressed!

I feel that in order for me to lose the weight I so desire, I have to start being happy with who I am… no matter my size.  I have based so much of my self-worth on numbers (the number on the scale and the size on my clothes) for so long.  I quit treating myself right and started punishing myself.  I let my weight determine how i was going to feel on a daily basis.

I want to quit doing that.  I want to shut off that negative voice in my head that keeps telling me I am worth very little because of my weight.  I want to quit blanching everytime I see a picture of myself.  More importantly, I don’t want my children to see me this way or have to live this way.  Regardless of my weight and how I look… I can still be fun.  I can still be the mom they deserve.

I came across a rather good blog once and in it, the blogger stated that she felt she was taking away something from her family everytime she put unhealthy food in her mouth or spewed forth negativity in regards to her weight.  That blog entry spoke to me.

Now… I need to put those words into action.

The last month of my pregnancy went off without a hitch.  My doctor prescribed a low-dose of Zoloft and I felt like a new woman to say the least.  Finally, I was excited about my pregnancy, being a mom and life in general did not suck anymore.  It didn’t solve everything, though the meds did make it so that I felt less emotional on things.  Basically, I didn’t cry, scream, yell, or otherwise overreact to situations that had no merrit.  Six weeks without crying about stupid things and/or giving stupid things a second thought has been heavenly to say the least!

Then, I found myself in the hospital just having had my baby only to find that the doctors and nurses were worried about him because of his breathing. His breaths would come rapidly and though he could eat through it, there was cause for concern because they were afraid the formula would end up in his lungs instead of his stomach.

Talk about all the emotions hitting me at once!  I balled like a baby when the nurse was telling me that I may have to be discharged without my baby.  I almost had to leave him at the hospital and then visit him everyday until they deemed we could take him home.  I felt immeasurably devastated over that news.  I wanted to be strong then… but I just couldn’t.

The day of my discharge was fairly stressful emotionally.  I sat in my room waiting up until the very last minute to hear if my baby boy would be able to come home with us.  The nurse checked his breathing 3 times before the final few minutes and miraculously his breathing slowed to 55 all three times!

The emotional sabbatical was nice.  I felt able to cope with everyday things.  In some ways, I have to admit that in some wacky way, I wanted to be numb for the scary experience with the baby in the hospital.  I wanted to be strong for him and felt that by crying … it meant I wasn’t strong.  What I learned, is that I love my baby and did not want anything bad to happen to him.  I WANTED to take him home with me.

In essence, I felt a little relieved as I was afraid that I would feel removed from the baby as I felt at times… removed from my pregnancy.  So having the emotional reaction and feeling it so deeply in my heart and soul and feeling the love for my little guy seep through every pore in my body was refreshingly relieving.

It is hard to be depressed and isolated socially.  Toward the middle of my second trimester, husb and I moved to another part of the state.  Sure it was only less than an hour away from where we used to live but with the rising price of gas it felt like we were moving an eternity away.

When the darkness started rolling in, I had hit the end of my 2nd trimester and the wee beginning of the 3rd.  I felt increasingly tired all of the time but more so than the average tiredness, I was constantly weepy, my mind went crazy during the day, my focus was lacking and I got so easily frustrated with my children over small things.  I felt like a mental and emotional wreck that was only two steps away from a breakdown.

The other emotion I felt quite frequently was that I enjoyed being alone more than I enjoyed being with people.  I wanted nothing more than to stew in my darkness… alone.  As a turtle in a shell, I would shy away from any social gatherings and would shy away from meeting with people who were happy.  I also did not want to be close to anyone other than husb and the kids.  I pushed a lot of people away for fear that they would see through my “fake-happy” exterior to the mental hell I was going through and do the worst thing possible (well, in my mind at least)… which was … judge me.

I didn’t want people to see through me.  I didn’t want them to glimps into the private hell of my mind to see a woman who was struggling to regain focus, ambition, and harmony.  It is no fun when you are not at peace with yourself.

I realized really quickly that it was harder for me to be away from my friends.  Sure, they were only less than an hour away but in retrospect, it felt like a lifetime in distance.

Then, I came across this article that links social isolation and depression.  This excerpt really hit home with me:

Women who said they did not have the support of family, friends, and a partner were nearly four times more likely to develop the disorder.

Having positive support from family and friends really helps the mental well-being of women who find themselves pregnant whether it be unexpected or planned.