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.

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.

I finally did it.  I spoke with my doctor about depression, postpartum depression and impending ppd.  He was extremely not helpful.  He said that it was probably 3rd trimester hormones and then basically left it up to me to decide whether or not I wanted anti-depressants.  Of course, my first thought was for the baby.  I wanted to make sure that the baby would not be harmed if I chose to go on anti-depressants.  He said that the baby (at this point) is fully formed so no harm should come.

I chose the anti-depressants.  I know myself to the degree that I know when i’m not feeling like “me”.  I asked him for a low-dose of something.  He proceeded to say that it is not a magical pill that makes everything all better.  My reaction:  DUH.  I just want to feel more even with my emotions.  I’m asking to feel “okay” rather than down all the time with my mind racing.  What I have been through has hardly been a pleasant experience for me.  I certainly do not expect any pill to “make it all better”.  I just want to feel a little less like I am down all the time and going to go insane.  Too much to ask?  I think not.

I have to admit that after the appointment, I balled like a baby.  This has been coming to a head for so long.  You have no idea how much courage it took to actually open up to the doctor about it.  I finally admitted to myself that I needed help and I finally sought it.  The sucky thing is, that my doctor was less than supportive.  His bed manner sucked quite frankly.

It has been exactly 1 week and 1 day since I have been taking the pills.  To my delight, I feel “even-keeled” emotionally.  My thoughts aren’t racing, I am not crying like a mad woman one minute and just plain old sad the next, I feel nothing and I feel not so overwhelmed.  Even my focus has gotten on track!

Depression aside, there are things within me that I want to change.  This is something no pill can do for me.  I wasn’t looking to take anti-depressants to feel happy, I just wanted to feel not sad and without hope.

The next phase of “finding myself” will include digging deeper into some personal issues I have not dealt with.  There are things I need to do in order to find my happy spot in life.

It’s strange…

some days, I feel okay… dare I say a little happy.  Other days, it’s as if someone has switched off the light inside my head and I travel back down the dark rabbit hole and await for the cobwebs to start eating my brain.

Today, isn’t one of those days.  I actually notice that the sun is shining and I smile.  My temper is kept in check with the kids.  Owbie pushed his sister off of the coffee table earlier today and instead of losing my cool, I calmly told him to go stand in the corner for a timeout and think about what he did.  4 minutes later, he came out of the corner and gave her a hug.  He then gave me one too.

I did not feel frustrated or annoyed.  For once, I just felt calm.

We had a good weekend, my family and I.  Hubb gave me some time to work on the term paper due for my philosophy class.   The kids were strangely on their best behavior.

Hubb asked me what I wanted for mother’s day.  My reply?  Just a nice day out with my family.  I thought it would be super fun to make a picnic lunch and take the kids to a great big park.  I would rather spend time with my family on that day.  I don’t need expensive gifts or an evening out…. just being with hubb and the kids is all I need.

I know that a lot of my mood swings and depression can be chalked up to the pregnancy.  I am afraid of the impending postpartum depression after the pregnancy, that’s for sure.  I will remind my doctor next week.  I don’t want to take the chance on being a total wreck after the birth.  My kids are too important to me.

I came to grips with the situation involving my dad.  It isn’t my responsibility to make him be a grandpa.  Nor is it my responsibility to take care of my brother.  My parents need to take care of their children and I need to take care of mine.  It is as simple as that.  It doesn’t make me a bad person because my father doesn’t want to give up watching Fox News for a weekend to see his grandkids.  It also doesn’t make me a bad person that my Marine brother wants to come home and I don’t have the funds to pay for it.  As much as I love my brother, the situation isn’t mine to handle.

The weight of the world does not have to end up on my shoulders.  Sometimes, I have a habit of taking responsibility for things that are not my responsibility.  It can be chalked up to the guilt-thing I was talking about in an earlier post.

Now, to remember that everything is not my responsibility or fault will be another uphill challenge.  Pregnancy amnesia has me forgetting a lot of things lately.

It’s raining here.  As surely as the rain drops are falling down the window panes, so do the tear drops on my face.  I am miserable.  I am having a rough week and I just want to crawl under the covers in my bed and sleep for the longest time.

I’m on the last leg of my pregnancy with roughly 8 weeks to go.  Week 30 has found me to be an emotional wreck.  I’m extremely short-tempered with the kids and it seems like I am yelling at them more frequently than normal.  The thing is, I love my children so much.  They are the rising and setting sun to me.  I really don’t like to yell at them yet it seems I pull that discipline tactic out of my hat more often than not.

Today, some of my tears were over the conversation I had with my mother yesterday.  Things were okay and then she laid a big guilt trip on me about my brother coming home from the Marines.  My oldest brother (Mikey) and I were going to try and put some money toward his ticket so that it would make it easier for him to come home.  The thing is, hubb and I have neither a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of.  This can be taken literally and figuratively.  If I had money, I would most certainly pay for the whole thing but I have none and a third child on the way to boot.  Still, somehow, I end up being a selfish daughter and the financial burden to bring my brother (Meb) home from Japan must rest on my mother’s shoulders once again.  Well, what the hell?  She is his mother and is responsible for that sort of thing.  I have 2 (almost) 3 children of my own to take care of and bankroll for.

This just brings me back to my childhood where she would put an extreme amount of pressure on me.  I helped raise my little brothers and take care of the household.  Sometimes, it felt as though I were a 30 year old living inside the body of a 12 year old.  I had kids before I had a period.  I don’t blame my parents for these things as I don’t think they had a choice.  In the end it made me a more mature and capable person but still, they coddle and baby my brothers (who are 25, 20, and 18 respectively).  They expect me to do the same.  They don’t have faith that my brothers can handle things on their own.  It’s really sad.

On the other hand, I have 2 children of my own who barely get to see their grandparents.  My mother tries hard to make an effort to see the kids.  She really does.  My father on the other hand, makes no effort at all and then expects all of the effort to fall on MY shoulders.  He’s seen my children a total of maybe 6 times in 4 years.  Owbie is only 3 1/2 and Pretty is 16 months.  So she has only seen my dad 3 of the 6 times.

I feel like I have to force him to give a fuck.

My mom cares but does very little to change the situation.  If my dad wants something, he gets it.  If he doesn’t want something, then she doesn’t do it either.  She makes a bit more of an extended effort (so I really don’t feel like I can be mad at her about this).  My dad on the other hand, makes no effort whatsoever.  In the 10 years I have lived here, my father has come to visit me only once (for Owbie’s baptism).  His vacation time is eaten up by events on his own side of the family.  I’m having my final baby this year, but he is using the rest of his vactation time to attend the wedding of my cousin.  Do you think he could spare a couple of days for his own daughter and his new grandchild and current grandchildren?  Nope.

I try so hard to be understanding and non-selfish when it comes to my parent’s attention and affection.  On the other hand I ask…. when do I get a turn?  When do my children become suddenly important to my father?  My mom tries to tell me that dad loves his grandkids and loves getting things for them.  In reality, I think she is blowing a big wad of smoke up my butt.  The truth is, he doesn’t care.  The only thing he cares about is my mom (which is a good thing) and getting to have HIS time.  Actions speak louder than words.

So all of this crap is coming to a head and i’m sitting here “crying it out”.  Whenever it comes to my parents, i’ve always gotten the short end of the stick.  Their attention has always been toward my brothers.  I love my brothers.  So, there’s no jealousy there.  Only pent up anger toward my parents.  I have tried to talk to them in the past but it falls on deaf ears.

Right now, my brother Mikey is the one who my kids know the most from my family.  Mikey makes an effort to be apart of my life and I make an effort to be apart of his.  We actually are extremely supportive of one another.  It’s a good bond that we have.  It is only a matter of time before my other two brothers (Meb and Shark) are brought in to the bond.

Coming full circle here:  I really don’t want to end up like my parents.  I really want to treat my children with love, respect and encouragement no matter what age they are.  I want to show each of them how important they are to me.

No wonder I eat to numb the pain.  It’s better than facing stuff like this.

Late yesterday, my husband and I had an epiphany together.  I finally opened up to him and told him about my depression, weight gain, and general unhappiness with myself.

I am so in love with him and my children but I am not in love with myself.  The depression is sending me spiraling down a rabbit hole and at the moment, I am having a tough time looking to the bright side.

After weighing in at 307 pounds last Monday, I realize that things need to change.  99% of my confidence and depression issues stem from not losing the weight post pregnancy and gaining even more on top of that.  It is a vicious cycle that plays on my emotions.  To succumb to it is only natural for me because that’s what I have done from pre-teen years to now.

I have decided to try and lose some weight before the baby is born.  No crash diets for me, though I have always known that carbs are my enemy.  Well, to a certain extent anyway.  I am two steps away from developing full blown diabetes.  I love sugar, bread and anything made with yeasty goodness.

When I was younger, my motivation was to get sexy and enjoy the bar hopping life.  To find a companion and fall madly in love.  To feel good about myself and party enough to have no regrets.  About 6 months ago, I had to revamp those goals.  I have a husband I love, children I adore and a life that is altogether pretty darn good (knock on wood).  So what is my motivation now?

After spending 6 months asking myself that question, it comes down to this:

My motivation is…… me.  I want to be good to myself which will in turn allow me to be better for my family.  I want to enjoy life again (something I have not done fully in 5 years).  I want to enjoy shopping, sex, trips out, get togethers with friends and family.  I want to be active for my kids.  I want them to embrace a healthy life style and I want to have fun with them.  How simple is that?  I want to put the fun back into life.

Death at an early age scares me.  With the depression and poor lifestyle habits (eating crap food and getting absolutely NO exercise) I am afraid that the powers that be will decide I am a lost cause.  I can’t do that to my children.  I can’t do that to my husband.  I can’t do that to myself.

So, important decisions were made.  My husband and I have decided to health up.  No more fast food, soda pop or anything remotely resembling junk.  Once we can get that out of our systems, we can begin to build back up with healthy foods.  Sure, there will be times we will want to spring for pizza or some other fast food but we’ll be armed with better habits.  For now, it is better to not touch fast food altogether.  Too much temptation.

The second decision is that I vow to get 30 minutes of exercise everyday.  I’m going to start out with walking.  After the baby is born, I will start to bike ride again.

Third, I have decided that I will talk to my doctor about putting me on anti-depression meds.  I need them right now.

There’s no doubt about it.

I cannot do this alone.

I don’t know what is wrong with me.  One moment i’m on an even path of consciousness and the next I feel like i’m fighting just to breathe.

Today was a bad day.  Maybe it’s because of lack of sleep.  Maybe it’s because yesterday I had two big glasses of caffeinated goodness in the form of Coca Cola.   Today I felt like crap.

I woke up this morning and found that my adorable son put poo all over the carpet.  He’s 3 and 100% potty trained.  He had to go poo and chose to do it in his pants.  Not liking the way it felt, he decided to pull said pants off and spread the poo around.  I was so frustrated and irritated in that moment.  Not a good way to wake up for sure.

Then, the rest of the day dragged by.  It was deliciously sunny and warm outside but I could not seem to muster up some enthusiasm to take the kids outside.  We spent the day inside where I was a very tired and cranky mumma.  My bebes were fed and taken care of but the house was not touched.  As of right now, it looks like a tornado whipped through.

I didn’t get dressed either.  I have been doing a daily ritual (since October) of taking a shower and putting on a clean pair of PJs after.  I don’t put on makeup, I don’t do my hair up all cute and I look like a disaster on a daily basis.  I know that my husband minds but he does not say anything.  The only thing he says is that once this baby is born… I am going back to normal people clothes.

I have to admit i’m off my game in a big way right now.  Some days are good.  I feel clear and happy on those days.  Other days, it is as if a dark cloud follows and watches my every move.  What the fuck is wrong with me?  Why do I feel as if i’m two steps away from throwing myself off of a cliff?

My weight doesn’t help.  I currently tip the scales at 300 pounds.  Not a glory mark to be sure.  I’m eating the wrong things, crying and just plain ol’ feeling miserable right now.  Every part of my pelvic and hip area hurts like a mo’ fo’.  I want to exercise but I can barely walk.  I’m a skinny person trapped in a GoodYear Blimp.

I want to analyze why today has been so shitty but I have a headache and my puffy eyes are begging to be closed.  I promised myself that I wouldn’t wallow in this house because this is a new house.  New house.  New Mia.  See how this is supposed to work?  These walls are going to soak up all of this negative energy and then spit it back out onto us all.  I cannot let that happen.