Being a Daydream Believer Creates a Perfect Storm of Wrong

I haven't blogged in quite awhile.  Well, I've tried, but nothing I attempted to write seemed to come out correctly.  After my last post, I started feeling very vulnerable.  I exposed more of myself than I had intended.  Then later I asked someone for a big favor (for someone else, as I would never ask for something for myself,) and although she said yes, and made someone's day, I feel like I over stepped boundaries.  I admit they are self-imposed boundaries, and if the person didn't want to do the favor I asked for, I'm sure she would have said no, but I still feel bad.  In hindsight, I feel like it wasn't my place to ask, as I had said I didn't ever want anything from this person.  I feel like I lied, albeit unintentionally.

I also feel like I've misread some relationships.  Well, not so much misread, as imagined them to be more than they were, and more than they could ever have the potential to be.  That's completely my fault.  I read too much into most things, and I imagine what I would like reality to be.  It's an old habit from my childhood- daydreaming about being anyone and anywhere else.  Combine that with a longing for someone to connect with- to have someone who takes an interest in me once in awhile, and you get an anxiety filled perfect storm of wrong.

I'm trying to push these feeling away, or at the very least, ignore them, but it's not easy.  What I really want to do is to hide away again and disconnect from the world.  But I've come to care deeply about a few people, and even if they never care for me as much as I care about them, I don't want to lose what little relationship we have.  Although it hurts my heart, I'll take passing acquaintance over nothing any day. 

A Heartfelt Thank You to Kristen Johnston

Dearest Kristen,

I want to thank you for helping me change myself for the better, and for bringing some amazing people into my life.

I encountered you on Twitter quite by accident.  I think you popped up as a "people you might like to follow" recommendation, and I thought Sure, I've always liked her!  I wonder what she's been doing all these years?  (I admit, I hadn't heard of The Exes until a few months ago.)  I've always enjoyed you as an actress, but I've never been one to follow the lives of celebrities- not even the ones I like the most.  I'll watch movies and tv shows because of specific actors, but that's about the extent of it.  I've never really even had the desire to meet any of my favorites.  So, I had no idea you had been an addict, or that you almost died.  I had no idea you had written a book, and were now a champion for change, working tirelessly to transform attitudes toward addiction and recovery. 

When I checked out your timeline, you were talking about teen addiction.  As the mother of four children, living in an upper-middle class community, where prescription drugs abound, and find their way to the high school in the blink of an eye, it's a topic I take seriously.  Addiction, in general, is very near to my heart as the daughter of an alcoholic, and the half-sister of two recovering addicts.  I commented on whatever it was you tweeted, and I was shocked when you responded to me almost instantly.  You asked if I had read your book (which I had never heard of) and I said I would check it out.  It was not what I expected.  I never could have guessed what I would gain from reading Guts.

I never anticipated I would be touched so deeply by your story, or that in some ways it would describe me.  I never expected the story of an actress-slash-addict finding her way to sobriety would resonate with me, and change me at my core.  After reading Guts, and getting to know you and some of your friends through our interactions, I wanted to change myself.  I wanted to come out from under the blanket of pain and sadness that had been suffocating me for so long.  I had no idea how that would happen though.  I'll admit, I started talking with you every chance I could, because I became captivated by your honesty- even when that honesty was directed at me, and you were calling me out for my negativity.  I hated you for it sometimes.  (Is this is a good time to confess that Rainbow Fart was a passive aggressive middle finger to you on one of my bad days?)  But after I sat with your words for awhile, I knew you were right about whatever you had said to me.  When I recently told you that you make me want to be a better person, I meant it with every fiber of my being.  And not because you're Kristen Johnston The Actress, because I really don't think of you that way, but rather because you're this really cool chick, who makes me laugh, and who also makes me think- someone I would choose as a friend in real life.  I feel like I really should be too old to need someone to look up to, but apparently I'm not.

The whole point of all of this, and what I will never be able to thank you enough for, is the wonderful people that have come into my life because of you.  How or why this happened, I'll never understand.  But I am grateful beyond measure that our paths crossed when they did.  Without you, I would never have started opening up my heart to let people in, and I would never have gotten to know these amazing girls you've introduced me to.  Before meeting you, I honestly didn't think that I needed to open my heart.  I had convinced myself years ago that I was perfectly fine being alone.  Thank you for showing me how very wrong I was.  You and these beautiful girls have made me laugh, and moved me to tears on several occasions.  Every single day I am touched by the strength and love that radiates from within these girls, and how they hold each other up when one of them needs it.  I have been profoundly changed by all of you, and although these words will never ever be enough, from the very bottom of my soul, I thank you.

With much love and admiration,
Lisa

I Hate Mommies

Okay, not really.  Wait, no... I actually do hate some of them.

I learned in middle and high school that girls can be catty, back-stabbing bitches.  That lesson was re-enforced in college (and being a dancer, I learned that gay boys could be just as bad,) and then again when I joined the "real" world and got a grown-up job.  I've always hated working in an office full of nothing but women.  Dear god, at least give me a male manager!  I know, I know, that's not very women's lib of me, so sue me!  I've had numerous bad experiences with female coworkers and managers who were overly dramatic, and took any difference of opinion as a personal attack.  Don't get me wrong, I have encountered some truly amazing women in my almost 42 years, whom I will always be grateful for, but so many are assholes, who take pride in being terrible to other women, and they seem to be getting worse!

Now, even though I have known for a long time that women could be awful to each other, absolutely nothing prepared me for what would happen when I became a mother.  I was living in a fool's paradise believing that I was joining a loving, supportive community of women who were all on the same journey of raising small humans.  What I learned quickly is that when you have kids, every single thing you do, from the moment of conception, is put under a microscope, and then quickly ripped to shreds.

There is this lovely subset of moms known as sanctimommies.  These are the moms that act as if they are better than everyone else, and they are quick to point out how you are doing everything wrong.  They behave as though motherhood is a contest, and they battle daily in the mommy wars to prove they are the best.  And yes, these are all things that I have witnessed myself... some of them were even directed at me!

• You're having a home birth? That's dangerous, and your baby could die!
• You're delivering in a hospital and having an epidural? Doctors don't care about your well being.  They'll try to force you into a c-section for the higher insurance payout.  And the drugs are dangerous for your baby! 
• You're unable to breastfeed? That's highly unlikely.  You must not have tried hard enough, and now your bond with your baby will be affected.  
• I have no respect for a mother who chooses formula!
• I only use cloth diapers, because disposables are made with dangerous chemicals.  I would never jeopardize my baby like that!  
• You don't vaccinate?  You are putting your child at risk!  As well as all of the other children!
• You do vaccinate?  Vaccines cause autism!!!
• Circumcision is mutilation.  It's your son's penis, not yours, and you have no right to choose for him!
• If you don't use this car seat then you clearly don't value your child's safety enough. 
• I have the toughest job in the world- I'm a sahm!  I work 24/7 as a chauffeur, cook, nurse, maid, and educator, raising the next generation, and I do it all for free!
• I have a full-time job, and I still have to do all the same things that a lazy sahm does.  
• I feel so sorry for the kids whose moms don't volunteer in their classroom. 

And on, and on, and on.....

To these holier-than-thou moms, there is truly nothing more thrilling than pointing out how they are far superior to you, and because of it, their kids are a cut above yours.  Even better, they are sure to let you know that your kids will suffer because of your sub-par choices.  I will never in a million years understand that mentality.

My first encounter with a sanctimommy was while I was at the park with my kids.  I hadn't been a mom for long- less than a year- but I already had a 5 year old, a 3 year old, and what appeared to be a tiny newborn.  I was flying by the seat of my pants trying to figure things out, and I was so desperate for someone with experience to throw me a lifeline, that I was elated when another mom showed up at the park.  As she made her way over to where I was sitting, I'm pretty sure I already planned out how we would hit it off instantly, and become best friends.  Zack, my apparent newborn, was actually about 4 1/2 months old at the time.  He had spent three months in the NICU, and had only been home for about 6 weeks. He was still tiny (less than 8 lbs) and looked like a newborn.  Because of his prematurity, he was on a special preemie formula, which I was feeding to him while my older boys played.  My conversation with Sanctimommy started out amiable, but then it quickly turned to something entirely different.  She started questioning why I wasn't breastfeeding my newborn- didn't I know breast was best? Didn't I know he would be healthier and have a higher IQ?  Didn't I know I would bond better with him by breastfeeding?  I tried explaining the circumstances to her, but she wasn't interested in hearing any of it.  She was too pleased with herself for pointing out what she perceived to be errors in my parenting choices.

By the time Sanctimommy left, I was fighting back tears.  She knew nothing about me.  She knew nothing of the struggles I had already faced with my baby, and she certainly knew nothing of the things I was still struggling with.  None of that matters to a sanctimommy though.  The only thing that does matter to a sanctimommy, is being sanctimonious.  The good news is that as my kids get older, I encounter fewer and fewer of these types of moms.  Or maybe I just don't pay any attention to them anymore, because I'm more confident in my parenting than I was 9 years ago.

Here's the thing- being a mom is hard!  We doubt ourselves every single day.  A lot of times we don't know if we're doing things right, and we may not know until our children leave the nest.  The last thing that any of us needs, is a member of the club making us feel worse.  Instead of tearing each other down, we should be building each other up, and cheering each other on.  Ultimately there are not many wrong ways of raising a child.  We can all do it differently, and we can all be right.  It's crucial that we, as women, get better at accepting each others differences.  After all, isn't that what we're supposed to be teaching these little humans we're raising?

Misery Loves Company

We have all had pain in our lives.  There isn't a single person on this planet who is immune from experiencing some sort of anguish.  We often search out others who have had similar experiences, because it makes us feel better to know we are not alone in our suffering.  It feels good to have a sense of connection, and to have someone to commiserate with- to be able to say "YES! I know exactly what that feels like!  I too am walking that path!!!"  

Sometimes that path is not identical though.  Often times, what may seem to be the same journey, actually takes us to very different destinations.  And sometimes these different destinations can become contentious between people.  I see this daily in the prematurity community.  Two moms compare notes on their babies who were born at the same gestation and weight, but one baby does remarkably well, and one baby will struggle with life-long challenges.  The mom with the sicker baby lashes out because she is hurting, and because it's not fair that her baby is worse off than the other.  Should the mom with the healthier baby feel guilty?  Should she be made to feel that her journey and feelings are any less valid?  Absolutely not!  So often, I see exchanges in which one person shares an experience, and another person proclaims that the first shouldn't complain, because "it could have been worse."  Well duh!  Of course, everything can always be worse!  Just because it could be worse, or someone else is worse off, does not negate anyone's struggle.

And what happens when one of us gets better... or has an easier time with something that was hard as hell for another?  All too often I see a person who has shared their story of pain, or illness, or whatever it happens to be, along with their triumph over their struggle, and the result is bitterness from some of those still in the trenches fighting the battle.  It's as if nobody is allowed to be happy around them, because it's taken as a personal affront.  Most people want to recover from whatever it is that ails them. (I say most, because there are some people who wear their pain like a diamond encrusted tiara, as if their pain is what is most important, and it's what we should see first.  As if their struggle is what defines them.)  So, if most of us want to heal, why is it so hard for some to allow others to bask in their happiness?  They would want people to be happy for them, right?  Is it jealousy?  Is it self-pity?  Loss and sorrow?  Perhaps it's a nice tidy package of all of those things.

It's so important to remember that we all have pain of some kind- we have that in common.  What varies is our backstories.  We all have different ways of coping, and different ways of recovering, based on where we are in our lives, and how we got there.  It should never be okay to judge or diminish someone else's journey.  We should be able to support one another as human beings, and be kind and comforting, even if our journeys differ.  We should be able to allow others their happiness, as we would want ours allowed.  Life isn't about who had it worse... it's about being kind and loving toward each other.

Miracles Happen

I'm not a religious person, but I believe that miracles happen.  I've seen one with my own eyes, and felt it with my own heart.  I have held a miracle in my arms.

In 2004, after eight years of unsuccessfully trying to have a baby, and a year of going through an adoption home study, my husband and I welcomed our two oldest children into our family.  They were 5 and 2 1/2 at the time.  It was such a stressful time- learning to parent and bond with these two emotionally needy little boys, as well as dealing with court and social workers.  A month later, I was in my doctor's office finding out that I was pregnant.

When I tell people my story, I hear similar stories all the time- a couple they knew (often it's a relative) couldn't have a baby, so they adopted, and a year later they ended up pregnant. I'm told it's because they finally relaxed... that it happened because they weren't thinking about it anymore.  They weren't stressed out anymore.  I was far from relaxed when I got pregnant.  I went from zero kids to suddenly having a 5 and a 2 1/2 year old.  I was whatever is the polar opposite of relaxed.  But, I always nod and smile, and then I continue the story of my miracle.

You see, during those previous eight years, I never went to the doctor to find out why I wasn't getting pregnant.  I was too afraid and insecure to find out what I knew deep in my heart- that I was somehow physically broken or incomplete, and I would never carry a child.  On the day that I found out I was pregnant, my doctor did an ultrasound, and discovered why I had never conceived before then.  She informed me that I had a septate uterus.  This is a deformity that causes the uterus to be divided in half by a thick fibrous wall of tissue.  The larger the septum, the less likely someone is to conceive, and the less ability the uterus has to stretch.  She told me that there was a higher than average chance I would miscarry.  The best case scenario was that I would deliver my baby prematurely.  I had no idea what that would mean, and I was so elated to finally be pregnant that I really didn't care.

My pregnancy was perfect.  I never had morning sickness, and I felt great the entire time.    That is, until I was 22 weeks along (a pregnancy is typically 40 weeks, so I was just barely past the halfway point.)  I started hemorrhaging and had to be rushed to the hospital.  When I got there, I was having contractions.  Thankfully, the doctors were able to stop the contractions, and the bleeding stopped.  The baby looked strong and was doing well.  After four days, I was released and sent home.  Two weeks later, I was rushed back to the hospital with contractions, only this time was very different.  By the time I got there, I was 8 cm dilated, and there was nothing that could be done to stop my baby from being born.  (In an effort to keep this post from turning into book, I'll spare you the details of the sheer terror I experienced, and how I prayed to any god that would listen that I be allowed to die on the operating table.)

Zackary was born when I was 24 weeks 4 days pregnant.  He weighed in at 1lb 13oz, and was 12 inches long.  We were told to expect the worst- his chances of surviving that first night were about 10%.  He was so tiny.  His skin was paper thin, and would tear with the slightest touch, and it was transparent, making him look a strange shade of red/purple.  His body was nothing more than exposed nerves.  The slightest touch was painful for him, so we could only touch the top of his head and the bottom of his feet.  The bones in his skull weren't even in place yet, and they overlapped each other, giving him a slightly alien appearance.  His eyes were fused shut, and he had no cartilage in his ears.  We had lots of ups and downs during Zack's 91 day NICU stay, but he came home almost 3 weeks before his due date, as a very healthy 5.5lb three month old.

When Zack was almost two years old, we decided that we wanted to try to have another baby.  Emotionally, I needed to be able to carry a baby to term, but I was also terrified of putting another baby at risk.  I carried a lot of guilt for everything Zack endured in the NICU.  I went to see a fertility specialist about my uterus, and I underwent surgery to remove the septum.  A week later, I saw the specialist for a follow-up exam.  She informed me that we would need to schedule another surgery, because she wasn't able to remove all of the septum the first time.  In her almost 20 years in practice, she had never seen a deformity as extensive as mine.  Her exact words to me were, "If I didn't know you already had a baby, I would have told you it would be impossible for you to ever conceive without removing the septum first.  When I got in there, there was nowhere for an embryo to implant."

My miracle is 9 1/2 years old now.  I shouldn't have been able to get pregnant at all, but somehow I did.  He wasn't supposed to survive that harrowing first night of his life, but somehow he did.  He was supposed to have life-long delays and health issues, but somehow he doesn't.  I don't know how, or why, I was given this miracle, but I was...

On Zack's second day of life,
he reached out and held onto the tip of my finger,
as if to tell me he was strong and he would fight,
and he would never let go.

Coming Up for Air

I mentioned in my last blog post that I don't really have any close friends.  That has been true for quite some time.  Since writing that post, I have been doing a lot of self-reflection to figure out why this is so, and more importantly, how to fix it.  There are several reasons to explain how I've gotten to this point in my life.  It's partly because of my feelings of inadequacy- I've always felt like an outsider, and that I never really fit in anywhere.  And part of it has to do with my need to connect with people whom I can try to fix (in an effort to avoid my own issues, I'm sure.)  But more recently (if 9 1/2 years can be considered recent) it has to do with family tragedies leading to depression, anxiety, and a little bit of PTSD.  Oh, and let's also throw-in trying to figure out how to connect to the mother and siblings I hadn't seen since 1980.

This isn't going to be a "boo-hoo, woe is me" type of post, though.  It could easily be that, but really, what's the point?  I experienced things that were soul crushing.  I lost the people that I thought were friends, and I have been drowning in sadness for years.  I've struggled to get my head back above water for quite some time now, with very little success.  That's not the point of this post though.  The purpose of this is to be hopeful and positive.

I feel like I have been slowly suffocating for almost 10 years.  I'm ready to breathe again.  It's exhausting to always be alone in a crowd, wishing that someone would try to reach out to me, and at the same time, praying like hell that I'm blending into the background enough, so that no one notices me.  I'm ready to open my heart, and tear down the walls that I've built around myself.  I'm tired of being lonely.

But how do I begin?  Making real, true friends isn't as easy as it was when I was 5, and I could walk up to another kid and say, "Hi, wanna play?"  I know I just have to take things one day at a time, and relearn how to be comfortable around people.  I also know that I can't force a relationship.  If someone is meant to be a part of my life, they will be.  I worry though, that most people can't handle the type of friend that I am.  I am honest and loyal, and I love with every fiber of my being.  I am not the friend that vanishes when things get tough.  I am both the rock, and the candle in the darkness.  Being those things fulfills my lifelong need to matter to someone... to feel important.  My biggest fear is that I will come on too strong, and seem too needy.  Or that I will just continue to keep the world at arm's length, because then I don't have to worry about people not liking me.

For today, in this moment, I have broken through the surface of the water.  I am filling my lungs with the fresh air, and fighting to stay afloat.

You Can Have My Chocolate Pudding

I always seem to attract them- people that need fixing.  Maybe it's because I'm kind of broken too, so we're drawn to each other. Maybe it's because I keep my crazy (mostly) hidden away, so I seem like a safe harbor.  Maybe I purposely seek out people I can try to fix, to take my focus away from my own issues.  I don't know what it is exactly.  What I do know is that it can be a lonely existence.  These broken souls that I collect are so wrapped up in themselves, that none of them bother to really get to know me.  And when I am no longer of any use to them, they tend to drop me like a diseased hooker.

I don't actually have any close friends.  I'm not even really very close to anyone in my family (with the exception of my hubby and kids.)  I seem to have a hard time staying connected to people in general.  I'm sure it stems from my abandonment issues as a child.  I wish I wasn't this way.  I truly wish I could make friends as easily as everyone else seems to.  I see others with their circle of friends, getting together, having fun, and it makes me sad that I don't have that.  I've tried in the past- I really have. But as soon as I start to get to know someone, I pull away. I refuse to let them through the brick wall I've built around myself.  Or, better yet, I find out that the person is highly toxic, and slightly insane.  And once they know I've found out their truth, they turn on me and try to bring me down too. 

The worst part of it is that I know I am a fiercely loyal friend.  I am there for whomever needs me.  But I never feel that in return from anyone.  Instead, I feel like a hanger-on... an annoying third wheel... the younger sister that your mom forces you to take to the mall with you.  I somehow have become that kid from school that was really nice to everyone, but seemed like they were trying too hard to be friends with you.  The one that would give you her chocolate pudding, even though you didn't ask for it.