Since defining my mainline problem of being extremely insecure, I actually feel as though a large weight has been lifted off of my shoulders.

Going through some of my not-so-proud moments, I realize that being insecure has been a driving force in many of my emotional reactions and decision-making process.

When I was 18 and halfway into my senior year at a community college, I was involved in a very lustful (thought it was real love at the time) relationship and decided to move in with him to another part of the state.  I did it because A)  He told me that if I didn’t he couldn’t see us lasting as long relationships are hard and B) I wanted the security of having him near.

As much as I would like to regret that decision, I can’t.  Had I not moved in with him and let things disintegrate naturally from a distance, then the probability of getting to where I am today would be slim.  However, I now recognize that I made a huge decision just based on insecurity and not based on logic or even a strong gut feeling.

I have also have kept my mother-in-law at bay from the moment I met her.  There were a few times I got angry over stupid things in regards to a situation she happened to be in or on the edge of and *now* I recognize why.  I had thought it was her.  Now I realize it was me.

I have always felt (at least to some degree), that I needed to keep this perfect image around her.  I never wanted her to see then (or even now) my vulnerabilities and weaknesses.  Being myself around the MIL has never been easy for me.  I feel like I smile even when I don’t feel like smiling.  During those times, I wonder if cracks are forming at the edge of my upturned lips to show how fake I really am being at the moment.

The fakeness comes from not wanting to face the emotions head-on.  Or at least, not wanting to be honest about my emotions.  For the sake of peace, I fake it.  Then again, some of the turmoil in the relationship with my MIL is due to my own insecurities and fear that she will take over and deem me not good enough for her son or even my own children.

I have a hard time believing that she could ever really love me for real and not just because I am her son’s wife and the mother of her grandchildren.

So I know that I have come at least one tiny step ahead in this situation.  There are varying degrees of insecurity in all facets of my life.  I want to fix them and overcome these demons.

I guess that’s why I have this blog…right?

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.

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’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.