My sister's wedding

My sister's wedding was wonderful. The bride was beautiful, the ceremony was lovely, the reception was well-attended and the food and music were awesome.

Parts of it were hard for me though. So those are the parts that I'm going to write about! I hope that no one (including my sister if she were to ever come across this blog) would ever think that there was anything in my heart other than love and joy. I truly am happy and thrilled for her.

So after that disclaimer, back to me!

I had a mini-meltdown at the rehearsal dinner. I arrived early (even had Nemo get off work early), and we waited in the hot church for over an hour before everyone arrived. Nothing makes me madder than having to hold up everything for late-comers. I was tired, anxious, hot, and annoyed. I had told Nemo that I was going to pick Lucian up at a certain time, and the longer we waited, the more anxious I got. In the end, I only had to miss the dessert at the restaurant (which is really a good thing!) I guess I panicked for nothing. Is there ever a real reason to panic?

The wedding day was over 90 degrees, and extremely humid. It wasn't until we had walked down the aisle, were sitting down (with me as matron of honor on the altar), that I started to have flashbacks of my own wedding. The priest started talking about how my sister and new husband now have an everlasting bond, how marriage is greater than any one person, and how they'll be sticking through bad times as well as good. (I'm paraphrasing here, certainly not as eloquent as the priest was).

All of a sudden, it all came back to me. I could see myself and Nemo on the altar promising the same things, the same naivete in our eyes. How he held my hand and smiled at me. I almost lost it. Tears started coming. I couldn't breathe. The air conditioning wasn't working well and I could feel the sweat running down my back and the makeup running off my forehead. I had to take deep breaths because I thought I was going to start sobbing.

Finally, before I had to stand up and face the congregation (because up until then, we had been sitting facing the altar) I found my focus. I had to tune everything out, to pretend that I was somewhere else. It was the only way I could get through it.

Luckily right after the wedding, I had an appointment with my therapist. I wasn't able to see it clearly until after meeting with her, but I realized that not only do I feel like I was betrayed by Nemo, I'm a bit resentful of the church. The day I got married, I committed myself to one person for all of eternity - I meant it. But when your spouse abandons you physically, emotionally and financially, you have to make some decisions. Decisions that I don't think the church would like to hear.

I never wanted to hear what the church would say to me, because I'm sure they'd have advised me to stay in my marriage at any cost (because I wasn't being physically abused) to myself or my child. And it's not like I live my life by the Catholic Church. I believe in fertility treatments, gay marriage, a woman's right to choose, birth control, women priests, and probably a whole host of other issues that the church takes a stand on. Basically, I feel that I have no right to tell you abortion is right or wrong, that you should or should not have pre-marital sex, that you should or should not have fertility treatments. I especially feel that (mostly) old men should not get to decide what each individual should get to decide for him or herself.

So why do I feel so let down by the Catholic Church? I've never even personally addressed my situation with anyone there. I guess I just felt abandoned. I'm sure that there are others who have felt displaced also (just off the top of my head: homosexuals, couples who have used fertility treatments, women who have had abortions, couples who use birth control, etc).

Back to the wedding: I had to give a toast and I couldn't seem to come up with anything beforehand. My sister does not understand my sense of humor very well, and I was worried that I would unintentionally offend her. Amazingly, I was pretty calm about getting up and speaking in front of everyone. I kept it brief and from the heart and I ended up getting many compliments as the night wore on. Even my sister, who was a bit (how do I say it nice?) disenchanted with the best man's speech.

I was able to spend time with friends and family, especially ones that came from far away. It's always great to reconnect with people.






I was very happy with how my hair turned out - check out my pictures. My dress was comfortable, but hot. One of the bust seams ripped right before we walked into the reception - luckily my aunt was able to pin it back together for me just in time.

I'm mostly relieved that it's over, and glad that was a success, and that my sister is happy in her new life.

Now if I can just figure out how to be happy in mine....

Progress

I've purposely stayed away from updating, because I'm in a major funk these days and I feel like all I do is complain.

My sister's wedding is next week. The fact that I live with my parents has made the event more stressful for me. I'm often in the middle of planning that I don't want to be involved in, but I can't excuse myself from either. I also had to plan the bachelorette party. And while I love to organize a party, it was hard for me to plan this one. I love my sister, and I'm happy for her, so it wasn't about jealousy or anything like that. I feel like the past few years have aged me to the point of uncomfortableness among my peers. Even amongst people who have had similar lives (college, marriage, kids, etc), my path to this moment has had so many twists and turns that I feel unable to connect with others (besides the close friends I already have). I ended the evening in tears. I'm embarrassed to even admit that.

God I hate being an emotional mess!

Lucian had Lyme Disease. We had quite a few days of high fevers and general crankiness, but thankfully after a long round of antibiotics, he is fine. He had a mosquito bite that developed a ring around it (like a bulls-eye). The doctors thought that I should have seen the tick that bit him. It's a mystery to me. I don't live in one of the states where the disease is considered endemic and one doctor told me that he had never seen a pediatric case before. (lucky us to be his first!)

I've started potty training Lucian. He's been doing great, really making a good effort, although we've still had a fair share of accidents. Part of me would like to put it off forever, and the other part of me would like him out of diapers by the time he goes to kindergarten.

I am doing okay with only seeing my therapist once a month. Surprisingly well, actually. If I had the luxury of better insurance, you can bet that I'd be in her office more often, but I'm dealing with trying to figure things out on my own. Instead of the high anxiety and obsessiveness about Lucian's future that I had before, I'm able to see the present more clearly and not panic about the future. I'm still having quite a bit of anxiety, and most of my feelings revolve around sadness and loss (instead of anger, confusion, and helplessness). I guess that's an improvement.

Nemo continues to be on a healthy path. I'm thankful and happy for him. He has alot of issues yet to deal with, and I know that even though I have many hard moments, it's much harder for him. We have become friends of a sort. We've developed a communication that's easy, light, friendly. That's not to say that my life wouldn't be alot easier if I didn't have to plan my schedule around his parenting time. But it's been okay. I can deal with him, and with the situation without having a complete meltodwn. That's progress!

Transitions

My Dad officially lost his job last week. He worked for the company for 27 years and was planning his retirement after he hit the 30 year mark. We feel incredibly blessed that he hit 25 years, the magic number where he qualified for the pension. When he was diagnosed with diabetes back in 1997, the goal was to make 25 years. I know that I've briefly mentioned it before, but my Dad worked a job where you can not be on insulin without a waiver from the state. It's a lengthy process, and even though it's not impossible, they do make you jump through so many hoops that you have to question yourself along the way.

We went and surprised my Dad on his last day. The company used to buy the retirees a cake on their final day, but due to my Dad's high seniority, the economic downturn and low employee moral, most of the employees were already gone by my Dad's last day. My Mom got a cake, and we went with Lucian, my sister and her fiance and brought him a little party. My Dad was so thrilled, he had tears in his eyes. He had just had a mental picture of how his leaving the company was going to be, and in the end, he got just that.

I think my Mom and I were more upset than my Dad. We were emotionally drained, as for 27 years, we had been loyal shoppers of the company also. My Dad though, came home from work on his final day, and hasn't looked back since. He is enjoying every moment of his "retirement". He's planning to work again, but is putting thought into what he's going to do next.

I'm so proud of the years he worked. He was a loyal, responsible, trustworthy employee. He loved his job. Not the politics, but the actual job. It was his passion. And although I am sad that an era is over for him, I'm taking the lead from him and getting excited about what's coming next.

It's been nice to have him home - I now have extra help with Lucian!

Now that my insurance has changed, and everything health related costs more, I've been doing all I can to economize. I clipped a few coupons out of the newspaper for free gift cards with a new or transferred prescription. The largest one was for $25.

I'm known for running my prescriptions right down to the last pill. On Tuesday night, I took my last anti-anxiety pill that helps me relax so I can get to sleep. Wednesday, being the 4th of July (holiday here in the US), I decide that I am going to use one of my coupons, the largest one. It was for one of the "mart" stores, and even though I've shopped this particular store in the past (and as recent as 3 weeks ago), I had no idea which location was closest to my house, because I never shop there directly from home, always on my way to or from somewhere else.

The location I chose was in the same shopping center as other stores I frequent (a dollar store, post office, discount clothing stores, and my favorite: the warehouse where you can get the $1.50 hot dog/soda combo) but I had never once set foot into this particular mart store. Honestly, until I looked it up on-line, I didn't even realize they had a location there, since it's on the far end of the shopping center.

So I drag Lucian all the way there (as it's much farther than my usual overpriced drug store) only to find out that the pharmacy is closed. Hello! It's a holiday! What was I thinking? I was so irritated with myself. Mostly because I've dragged Lucian along for a wasted trip. I mean, there's only so many times I can take a 2 year old shopping with good results, you know?


At this point, I've already promised him that we can look at the toys. (and luckily he hasn't realized the concept of begging for an item - mostly he just looks at something and hands it back to me) As I'm walking down the aisle, I notice a woman who looks familiar, but I pass her, unable to identify her. She turns around and calls my name, and instantly I remembered who she was: a friend of Nemo's parents. The woman from the couple that we celebrated our final anniversary with.

It's been almost 3 years, and she had aged considerably. To make a long story short, (because this is already too long!) she told me that her son and his wife were getting a divorce also. Yes, that would be the same couple who seemed so happy at my 5th anniversary dinner. Apparently, the wife took a job at a bar and has stopped coming home at night. Their son is 4 months younger than Lucian.

She asked me how I was doing, and of course I worked "much better now that Nemo's girlfriend**, the exotic dancer, isn't showing up on my doorstep at 3:00 am or pranking me." Of course, I said it in a nicer, more refined way. Miss Manners would have been proud.

**Nemo is no longer with Elvira. However, I have reason to believe that she is still dancing without clothing for strangers for money, and using/promoting illegal hard core drug use. I'm pretty sure she hasn't gotten any ethics in the mail either.

This friend of Nemo's parents said she had wondered why I left such a good life behind. Never having been told anything otherwise by Nemo's parents, she had assumed that I had left the marriage.

You wouldn't think that this simple and short exchange would affect my life in any way. When I told my sister, she was like - you know that you did the right thing, why do you need an acknowledgement from someone else? And the thing is, she's right. But at the same time, I've felt a big cover up from Nemo's family. Even with his relatives, and I still see many of them regularly, if only occasionally.

What I felt as I left the store was that a little bit more of my emotional burden has been released. A lightness, if you will.

It wasn't until later when I was going to take my anti-anxiety pill and realized that I still didn't have my prescription, that I thought about the whole thing. I feel like something was leading me to that store, at that time. Maybe it's just being in the right place at the right time kind of thing and nothing more.

But the fact that I went to a store I had never been to, early on a holiday, with the pharmacy being closed, and just when I was wondering what the heck I was even doing in that store at that time, I don't know... I just feel like I was led to that particular moment. To set the record straight, to tell the truth.

Has this ever happened to you? Have you ever felt like you were led to a particular time and place?

(By the way, I still don't have my prescription, and miraculously I'm not even feeling very anxious about it.)

My COBRA insurance ended a couple of months ago. I was thrilled that I found new, personal health insurance through the same insurance company. I was also thrilled with the cost, less than half of what I was previously paying through COBRA. However, I'm not thrilled with the coverage and finding out that many services are not covered.

It struck me particularly hard when I realized that it covers nothing for my mental health. I see my psychiatrist every 3 months or so, but I see my therapist weekly. The psychiatrist charges about $200, and $800/year is not an unfeasible amount to come up with. My therapist charges $160, and it's nearly impossible for me to come up with over $600 a month to cover that cost.

So sadly, I told my therapist this week that I could no longer afford her services, and we've agreed to start weaning me off the therapy. I'll be going once a month for a few months and we'll see.

That was 3 days ago. Since then, the following things have happened to me:

1. Found out that the company my Dad works for will be closing its doors in one week.

2. Been babysitting for kids that I adore but require a great deal of attention and I'm stressed out (ie - 9 yr old asked me today how Nemo's therapy was going...)

3. Had a breakdown after taking Lucian out for dinner with friends; he behaved hideously and in addition I had to listen to how wonderful everyone else's lives are (vacations, babies, weddings, etc) so we left early and both of us cried the whole way home. I was having a moment of pity about how hard it is being a single parent without someone to fall back upon.

4. I'm trying to organize a bachelorette party for my sister - imagine the non-drinker/full time mother who gets her pajamas on at 7 pm trying to throw a party for major partiers/drinkers that doesn't feel incredibly lame. I have nothing against drinking and partying, it just doesn't fit my current lifestyle. And to be honest, I never fit into that lifestyle, I'm much too controlling.

5. For Nemo's birthday we were planning to get together for dinner. Said he was going to call me and never did. Felt like I was transported to 3 years ago when he would never call me back and I'd leave messages saying - just call me if you're alive. I'm disappointed in myself because he's been communicating better lately and I believed that he was going to call me. I'm even more disappointed in myself because I took Lucian shopping for a gift and told him it was Nemo's birthday. So Lucian was singing Happy Birthday and saying Daddy's birthday! all day. Breaking my heart each time.

6. I'm incredibly frustrated with my diabetes. I haven't had good numbers in weeks. I feel like all I do is correct the high numbers, and increase my basals. Maybe it's stress. The highs stress me out more. And I think the insulin makes me hungrier. Which makes me feel like I'm chasing my tail: high, more insulin, weight gain... round and round. And my insulin prescription was $100. Totally stressful.

Only 3 more weeks until I can unload on my therapist.

Good for something

Last night Lucian and I met Nemo for dinner. I chose the restaurant: it was one of those design your own stir fry type of places and I thought it would be a more nutritious choice for Lucian than the usual hamburger/french fry combo.

When we go out to eat, I always try to get a booth because I can put Lucian closer to the wall and block his exit. He's long done with high chairs and booster seats. He can get up and jump around though, which is usually why I usually choose faster, waitress-free meals when we go out. When we have dinner with Nemo, Lucian always sits next to him. And I sit across and try to control all my feelings and emotions.

It used to be that I'd have to sit on my hands, nervously drink my Diet Coke and keep my mind occupied on something else. The control freak in me always wanted to jump in to meet Lucian's every need. It was difficult to turn that over to someone else, particularly Nemo, even for one meal. Being in public and fearing an embarrassing scene didn't help me either.

I realized last night just how far I've come. Lucian was antsy, and quite full from the salad portion of the meal so he didn't want to eat. Nemo was successful getting him to eat a few bites of his meal, plus some soup and more of the vegetables from the salad. The restaurant was loud, busy, and distracting.

As I finished my meal, I sat back and observed Nemo and Lucian. Lucian was ready to leave, and Nemo was worn out. He was frazzled. We discussed how maybe Lucian just wasn't ready for that type of restaurant, despite our best intentions. I had a wonderful, relaxing meal. I was an observer and occasional commenter, but with Nemo attending to most of Lucian's needs, I was free to enjoy my meal. Maybe it wasn't the most relaxing meal I've ever eaten (is that even possible with a 2 year old??) but considering how most of our dinner's out go, it was very enjoyable.

This is one of the things I've missed being a single parent. Having someone there to help you. My parents do help me a great deal, but it's different having another parent to help you.

As the title of this post suggests, I've found that Nemo is good for something. Surprisingly, thanks to medication and therapy (on both our sides), I'm okay with relaxing a bit of my super tight control over the situation. And that's good for more than something, it's good for everything.

Happy Anniversary to me!

Here's the e-mail I sent out this year on my diabetes anniversary, which was in early April. I always feel good celebrating my anniversary, as it's one more year to be thankful for. I like to involve my friends and family in acknowledging my day. It helps to spread awareness too. Here's to many more years!

Dear friends and family,

Twenty(+x) years ago today I was diagnosed with diabetes.

Just about this time now, I was sitting in the hospital bed wondering what would become of me. My Mom had left to go home to get things, as we had rushed from the doctor's office to the hospital without a thought as to what I'd need, or how long they'd keep me there (8 days). I watched WKRP in Cincinnati, a show that I disliked, but I was too numb to change the channel. So I sat there in the almost darkness as the sun set, understanding the mechanics of diabetes (twice daily shots and no more cookies) but not the emotions that came along with it.

The calendar was cruel that year, in that Easter came almost immediately after I returned from the hospital. Instead of candy (real candy that is), the Easter Bunny (God bless him) brought me the fake stuff that can cause stomach problems. I also received a music box (that of all things plays Evita - Don't cry for me Argentina). It's now in
Lucian's room and he begs for it every afternoon before his nap. I may be the
only person who has (or even remembers) what they received twenty(+x) years ago
for Easter.

I didn't believe I'd live til my 30th birthday. I wondered just how this disease would eat me alive. I was told tales of blindness, kidney failure, amputations, etcetera, etcetera... It seemed that my life now was one of an old person. My grandparents were now younger than me. Looking back, I realize that the message of doom was given to scare young diabetics into compliance. I was also told that a cure was coming "within five
years" and it's now been four times that, and I still don't see my cure anywhere.

In 2000, I was reborn thanks to my insulin pump. Besides adjustable waist pants, Tivo, and Diet Coke, it's the best invention in my lifetime. My diabetes control has never been so good, easy, or flexible. I've gained about twenty pounds, because I no longer have guilt over things I choose to eat. And the freedom!! Eating what or whenever I want to. It's a dream come true for me every day.

One year pre-diabetes, the Easter Bunny brought my brother, sister, and me solid milk chocolate bunnies. They must have weighed about a pound each. I ate the entire thing on Easter Sunday, and broke out in hives the next day. While I have learned my lesson
(don't eat an entire solid chocolate bunny in one sitting), this Sunday I will
be sharing some of Lucian's candy from the Easter Bunny and marveling at my good
fortune of being able to participate in a holiday that at one time left me out
in the dark.

I'm off to go celebrate with a big Diet Coke. Maybe there's even some chocolate awaiting me... :-)

Stella

It's late, and maybe I'm just tired

Tonight I had dinner with Nemo. With Lucian of course. For awhile now, we've had swim classes on Friday nights, and this week's class was cancelled. Nemo e-mailed me earlier in the week and asked if I'd like to go out to dinner at one of our favorite restaurants.

I should mention that not only was it one of our favorite restaurants, it's also somewhere that Nemo worked during high school, his parents are close family friends of the head chef, and friends of the owner. On top of that, it's also a banquet hall, and we had our wedding reception there.

So it's a nice place, with lots of memories. I wanted to say no, but I wasn't sure how to. We've both been working hard at finding solutions instead of creating problems, that I'm trying to honor innocent, easy requests. I mean, a dinner where you don't order at the counter? How could I refuse?

I hadn't been to this restaurant since my baby shower. When Lucian and I arrived, it was like my old life and new life colliding. I remembered all the good things, and those are just as painful for me. Sometimes I'm able to pretend that Nemo doesn't exist, like that part of my life never happened. I'm even able to avoid most of our old haunts, as my parents' house is far enough away that there are many other choices, without it seeming deliberate that I'm avoiding some place in particular.

I haven't updated my blog in forever, and now here I am rambling on and on about going to dinner on one night out of my entire life. It's not like I don't have dinner with Nemo once a week already. I'm bothered that a location bothers me. That a building or an idea of it, can hold so much power over me. I hate that. I'm not sure if this has ever happened to others or not, and I hate that my mind works this way.

(Side note: my grandparents moved out of state to live with an aunt in 1992. My aunt added a complete addition onto her house for them. They both died in 1994. In 2001, I visited for a cousin's wedding. I could not go into my grandparents' "apartment". It had been almost 7 years! It was just to painful for me even then. So this feeling is not new for me.)

Back to the dinner: I had a wonderful meal. Lucian was very well behaved (he doesn't usually even sit still for fast food.) The family friends were very kind to me. I can't think of one complaint, besides I left and just felt very sad.

There's an emptiness in me. Maybe it's a bit of self-pity, I don't know. I feel ridiculous that I've cried tonight over a restaurant. I guess I'm crying for my old life and I'm not sure why, because it wasn't authentic or true. It was a lie, and I'm better for knowing it. My new life is full of love, happiness, truth, and peace. Why am I so sad?

I was going to end there, but I don't want to end this post so depressing. So I'll tell you what happened on the way home. It's about a 30-35 minute drive through suburbia. With Mr. Non-stop-talker in the back seat:

Look Mama! School bus! Look Mama! big truck! Look Mama! Buh-geh King! Mama Buhgeh King! Look Mama! Pia! (pizza) Pia! Eat pia! Look Mama! Mahdonnal's! Hambuhgeh!

Maybe I should be scared that he's such a big fan of fast food, but it's so darn cute. I feel better already.

Moving on... slowly

I hate bloggers like me. You get you all involved in their stories, and then they fade out of existence.

The truth is, I think about my blog every day. Multiple times. Because not only am I obsessive, I am guilt ridden about mostly everything. (I'm a therapist's dream!)

Lucian is keeping me very busy these days. He's intelligent, intense, demanding, and full of energy. I adore him (of course!) and I enjoy every minute with him, but I'm not able to accomplish things while he's in my presence. Things like laundry, cleaning, etc. have to wait until he's asleep. Add to it my e*bay selling, and there's not much time left. I haven't had good success getting Lucian to play by himself for long. He will watch videos (certain videos at certain times) which months ago I couldn't get him interested in. Actually, he was interested, just more interested in his toys.

We play trains quite a bit. It's still his favorite. The other day, he asked me to play - Mama, play choo choo's? Please! I was cleaning the kitchen and told him to wait a few minutes. So he calls out to my Dad (his favorite train playing companion by far because my Dad indulges him more than anyone) who was trying to get dressed. Then he called out to my Mom, who was doing her hair. When none of us were takers, he asked the dog. In the most serious, pleading voice. He cracks me up every day.

My Dad's job is in jeopardy. We're not sure if his company is selling or closing, but something is happening and he might not have a job one way or the other come next month. We're all trying to be positive about it. He's on insulin now (and doing wonderfully) but that may affect his job choices in the future. It's out of my hands, and I'm just trying to keep the faith that things work themselves out one way or the other.

I'm sure you're wondering - what about Nemo? I wish I had been keeping a better record of events, conversations and feelings, because I can see the point I was at before, and the place I'm at now, but I'm not quite sure how to draw the line between the two.

I'm doing an unbelievable job at forgiveness. Basically what I've done is said - I am forgiving Nemo, and I've been repeating it any time I feel anything negative. There's still a lot of things that I can't think about because they hurt too much. Just this week, after a friend started talking about feeling her baby kicking, I painfully remembered that I could not get Nemo to place his hand on my stomach when I first felt kicking from the outside. While both my parents and my sister fought for a good spot, Nemo was half way across the room, barely able to pay attention. He never once felt the baby kick. I can't think about it because these things hurt me down to my soul. When I get down about these feelings, I put it out of my mind and pick myself up again. Some days it's easier than others. One day the jolt of pain won't be so severe.

Things have been a gazillion times better than they were just a year ago. Nemo has apologized to me. He's admitted that he threw our life together away. He's taken full responsibility for his actions. He's admitted to verbally and mentally abusing me. He's been working with me, instead of against me. He's shared some things with me that I can't say to the public, but let's just say that there were things in his life that he never told me about, that I have sympathy for. He's getting professional help, has made better decisions, and I believe is trying to turn his life around. I am happy for him and wish him the best. I hope that he'll turn the mess of his life into something positive.

With all these good changes, I still know of some recent lies. He's not 100% honest with me. I still worry about Lucian in his care. I was blind to a great many things about Nemo and I'm now seeing some of these things through different eyes. I guess it's a mother's job to worry. With Lucian talking more and more, it will only get easier because I'll be able to communicate with him about his safety. Hopefully that will be enough to help him make good choices when he's around Nemo.

About a month ago, Nemo and I took Lucian to a train event. We spent the day at a local tourist park, riding the train, having lunch together, and walking around seeing the sites. I think I can speak for all of us, it was a good time. I'd still rather not have Nemo in my life, but since he is, I'm going to make the best of it. And I'll admit, it was nice having someone else's help chasing Lucian. I've missed Nemo, my friend, and I think I have that person back. Maybe not in the same way or same form, but it's not uncomfortable between us. Looking at us, you'd never know that we weren't a happy couple with a toddler. I'm trying to look at it like he's a new person. My new friend, Nemo. A friendship with boundaries. And then I get to go home with my son and have my own life.

You've waited over a month for this?

I've been a bad blogger. I have no excuse, just busy-ness. I've been caught up in the stuff of everyday life, instead of some of the drama I was before. It's been all good stuff.

There's been alot going on, especially in regards to Nemo. But I'm up too late as it is, so I'm going to have to come back another day. (I promise!!)

Since you've waiting such a very long time for this post (that's really nothing but a hey I'm alive! post) I'm publishing a photo of Lucian.

It was taken about a month ago. We had quite a bit of snow this winter, and this is when it was just starting to melt. He had a blast putting his footprints all along the sidewalk. He was fascinated, saying "Lucian, footprint!" all the way to the front door.

It's getting old

Unbelievably, I am sick again. I hadn't realized it until my Dad pointed it out today, but I've been coughing on and off (more on really) since early December. I went back to the doctor today who wants me to see an ear, nose, throat doctor.

So even though I've been feeling emotionally better, physically all this coughing is wearing me out. Ugh. At least now I've identified the pattern.

I've got lots to write about Nemo and other things. Hopefully I'll be feeling better soon so I can write about everything in the detail it deserves.

Little Lord Fauntleroy's Mother

Late one night a few weeks ago, my Mom caught an old movie on one of those classics channels. It was all she talked about for days afterwards. She told me that I had to see this movie, Little Lord Fauntleroy, that there was a lesson in it for me. So we bought the movie and watched it together yesterday.

I won't go into the play by play, because this isn't a movie review. But the basics of the story go like this: In New York, father dies, son is summoned by grandfather in England to carry on legacy, son and mother move to England, mother gets to live in a fabulous house, but not with son who lives in castle with evil grandfather, son is so amazing because of his mother's love that grandfather adores son, and at the end of the movie the grandfather realizes that the reason he adores the son so much is because of the mother, even though he's pretended that she doesn't exist.

It's strange for me to be affected by a movie. Usually they're just entertainment for me, and I don't take away much. (unlike books that will haunt me for weeks and years afterward)

I haven't sorted through all my feelings, and I can't seem to figure it all out, so this is really rough of how I feel. So please excuse my ramblings. I hope to someday make sense of this and I've been fearful to put it on my blog because I'm afraid of how crazy it will make me seem.

So here it is: Nemo and his parents have treated me like I was the slave girl who gave birth to their heir. They have under minded me from day one, telling me that I'm feeding or bathing or dressing Lucian wrong, not enough or too much. They have in general made me feel unimportant and just the vessel that brought Lucian here - needed for the nine months of pregnancy, but obsolete now.

Admittedly, I gave away a lot of my power. I felt threatened and confused and suffered low self confidence. Nemo's parents would make some demand, and I'd have to follow through, as Nemo had rights and at the time, he was very unstable for me to deal with. It was easier for me to bite my tongue than start more arguments or get Nemo involved.

Even after the divorce was settled, after all my therapy, I've still felt threatened. Like I've needed to spend every waking hour of Lucian's life with him to prove to everyone that... what? He's mine? I'm the mother? I'm in control? I don't know and I can't seem to articulate it, even now. I've pushed myself into almost unreasonable motherhood - even women with ten children get more breaks or feel less burden and guilt than I do.

I feel like I worked so hard and so long to get pregnant ($30,000 + 3 years), stay pregnant (diabetic and stressful pregnancy where I was virtually alone, arguing and fighting with Nemo all the time, not understanding anything my life was becoming and then lying about it to everyone else), and have the baby (again alone, filing for divorce with a 2 month old, taking care of a newborn almost entirely by myself) that I feel like I want to enjoy the fruits of my labor and good luck that has been bestowed upon me. A baby! It's my wildest dream, and I'm living it. I don't want anyone taking this away from me. Especially crazy in-laws who thought it was okay that their son ran off with a stri*pper.

Even as I'm writing this, I realize that a good portion of this sounds unreasonable, or unrealistic. I know what you're thinking: you've had the great fortune of having a baby, one who's healthy and beautiful, and you're threatened by a non-sperm donor father(?) figure and his insane family by the few hours they spend with him a week? And my answer would be yes, crazy as that sounds. Irrational as even I know it sounds, I can't help feeling it anyway.

Okay, back to the movie. It really should have been titled Little Lord Fauntleroy's Mother because she's the reason her son is who he is. In it, the mother never speaks bad of the grandfather, and in fact does the opposite. What happens is not that the son realizes that the grandfather is an evil man, but the grandfather realizes how evil he is and changes. I want to strive to be like that mother. I want to not speak poorly about Nemo and his family (except to the whole internet of course!) I want Lucian to not be stuck in the middle of my drama. I don't want him to know my true feelings about Nemo's family or why. And when he eventually hears our story someday, I want him to know that his mother's love has carried him through.

I've got such a long way to go.

The newest feature on my blog

I've wanted to link to my favorite blogs for awhile, and I have no good excuse as to why I haven't. So many wonderful people have linked to me for a long time now and I'd like to return the favor. See my new list to the right --->

This is just the beginning, but if you'd like to be added, please e-mail me or add a comment. Now that I know how to do it, there'll be no more excuses!

Narcotics and my anxiety attack at the drug store

I'm not usually a procrastinator, but when it comes to getting prescriptions filled, I wait until the last minute. Part of it is that I hate the process so much, and the other part is that my copay is $50 per prescription. So I put off getting refills until I am desperate.

I recently went to drop off one of my scripts. It was for my morning pill, the one that gets me through the day, one that is normally prescribed for ADD, which my doctor believes is part of my problem in focusing on things. (what was I talking about?? ha ha...)

Anyway, the pharmacist called me back to the pharmacy to tell me that they only had eighteen pills they could give me. My prescription is for thirty. No problem - I said - I'll just pick up the rest when they come in. But no, I was told that since it was a narcotic, whatever they gave me, I'd have to live with because the rule/law? is that they can't give you the balance if they've given you a partial fulfillment. This seems completely ridiculous to me. But whatever. I have diabetes, I've suffered infertility, I've been through a nasty divorce - I get that life isn't fair or logical.

The pharmacist was overly nice (besides her pronunciation and whispering of the word narcotic, that made me feel like a criminal) and called five pharmacies until she found one that had thirty pills. (I think she saw the desperation in my face: I need my narcotic! NOW!) While she made the phone calls, I panicked, wished I had my anti-anxiety medication (how's that for irony? being at the pharmacy without my pills?), prayed to God that someplace in the tri-county area had my pills, and realized that I can't let this happen again.

As I was driving to the other pharmacy, I realized just what a balancing act I have going on right now. I'm so happy with the way I feel, that I'm scared of losing what ground I've gained. I also had no idea I was taking a narcotic (my doctor never mentioned it, web md never mentioned it, and I certainly don't feel like I'm taking a narcotic, all I feel is more normal). Right now my pills are my crutch. I don't want to be on this cocktail forever, but for the moment, I'm scared to have them taken away. I'm not ready not to have the support.

Next time, I'm calling the week before to make sure they have my narcotic available. And I won't forget to bring my anti-anxiety pills either.

Just in case.

Balancing

I found my wedding album recently. It was in some boxes that I finally decided to sort through. Truth be told, one of the reasons I stayed away from the whole sorting project was because of stuff I might find, like the wedding album.

So I found it, but it took me two weeks to drum up the courage to look at it. I went through each page slowly, letting the memories and feelings and changes absorb. It was painful. I sobbed through a good portion of the process. It's haunted me since.

I showed the album to my therapist. I think that I wanted her validation - yes, this wedding did happen. Someone wanted to marry me at one point in my life. The beauty and love of that day existed pure and unaffected by the events that followed. I think I wanted her to see that I was a normal person, Nemo was a normal person, we were a normal couple even. Even if maybe we weren't.

I had agreed that Nemo would keep the album. For someone who violated every wedding vow, he sure had an interest in the wedding keepsakes. In one of my - go ahead and take all this, I certainly don't care about our wedding album because it obviously meant nothing - moods, I almost pushed the album into his hands and out the door. But at the last minute, I grabbed it. For three reasons. 1. It was my pet project (obsession) for months. I chose every photo, every placement, every page. With all the work I put into it, I couldn't just leave it behind. 2. The cost. I'm cheap, and I paid for it (almost) myself. 3. Sentimental reasons including knowing that I would eventually have a need to look at it, to convince myself that it did in fact happen.

I feel that I've pulled myself (mostly) out of the depths of depression, that I'm now able to control my anxiety and obsessiveness (all thanks to lots of pills and therapy), but what I'm now realizing is that I'm having to deal with feelings and events that I previously pushed aside because they were too painful.

At the same time, I'm emotionally fragile. With my current medications, therapy, routine, support, etc, I'm finally balancing on my big toe on the high wire. But anything, even a small thing, could make me topple over and have to start again. I'm fighting daily just for where I am now, and I'm afraid of losing the more stable ground I've discovered in the past few months.

I still feel paralyzed: too afraid to look back, too confused to go forward. But I try, a little at a time. When I'm ready. When I can set aside the time to cry over things like my wedding album, that at one time made me so happy.

And I dream about a happier, stable future. I have to believe that it's out there.