Smithers, my heart is pounding like a jack hammer

It is widely known that people say weird things. (Not me, other people).

But today I finally understood what it means to say that something “warms your heart”. It’s amazing to actually feel my heart. (Last week I could feel my uterus but it just gave my a sucker punch..) It’s like the ice encasement protecting my heart is finally starting to melt.

Every Saturday morning I take my daughter to dance class and watch her stand still for 30 minutes. Through my detective skills, I’ve determined that she doesn’t dance in class (or to the same music at home) because she can’t do it perfectly and is a bit embarrassed and because she doesn’t understand that you have to suck at something before you can get good at it. Both clearly (in my mind) a direct result of backwards lessons taught by her crazy mother.

Every week that goes by without her dancing just makes me think about how hard my mental illness has been on her.
(Obviously, she is the only four year old to ever be shy in dance class.)

Yesterday, halfway through, I got fed up watching her stand there and jumped up and started dancing with them. I know that I’ve been singing praises about my ballet progress but in between the skinny teenage dance teachers and the four year olds, I looked RIDICULOUS.

Soni was totally surprised and tried to hold my hand so I would stand with her but I just smiled and galloped away across the room.

I wasn’t quite sure if my stunt was going to have any effect at all. (Other than giving the other parents a good laugh.)

But then… (Drumroll…)Today, she walked into the kitchen singing the song from dance class! Then, she asked if I could put on the practice video of her dance teacher doing the dances.

Then… She DANCED!! My little girl danced! With a huge smile on her face!!
Then she danced again! I’m tearing up just remembering.

I can’t even describe how happy and overflowing this made me. I actually felt my heart warming and about to burst.

My psychiatrist asked me this week if I’ve been enjoying my kids. And I honestly said, yes. So much.

The last three weeks, I have been up and down and illiterate and brilliant and exhausted and insomniac… But I have definitely been enjoying my children.

I’m actually pretty proud of that answer.

mr burns heart

lunch with the brother

Why do I feel so raw and hurt after a completely uninteresting, random casual lunch with my brother and his wife? Why do I feel so empty? So disappointed? So abandoned?

o- right, it’s cause they suck!

Why were they so nervous to see me? Why did they have to keep talking over me and changing topics so quickly- why couldn’t we just have a real conversation. Why couldn’t he understand when I told him what I do at work? Why did she keep pushing me to tell her about each and every one of the finishings that I picked for my new condo?

I haven’t seen or spoken to them in so many moons. Why do they want to talk about backsplashes when they are so much more important things to say and ask? Are they like that with everyone or did I do something special to deserve this extreme insincerity?

Why did they ignore me twice when I asked about how my mom is doing? Why did they keep trying to end the conversation when after almost an hour, I forced us to spend less than 8 minutes talking about our mom’s chemo progress and my ricocheting mental health.

I am having a hard time accepting the answer that I know is true: They are just cold people. They are dead inside. They have always been like that, I just never noticed because I was like that too. They live only on the surface of their lives and are terrified that I may challenge their illusions and crack their rose colored blinders.

They like to know that they are on good terms with their baby sister but, just like when I was four years old, they can’t (won’t) see past my cute ponytail to the person standing (and suffering) in front of them.

Manic or normal?

Can we take a vote please.

When we moved into our rental apartment last summer there was this really ugly huge plastic shelf attached to the wall in the kids’ bathroom. I’ve been meaning to pull it off the wall. I even bought a scraper a few months ago. I found the scraper today and finally pried it off the wall.

But it left a bunch of marks all over the wall. So, I thought I could make the marks less noticeable with a bit of white paint from the kids washable paint. But someone had dipped the purple into the white paint so now the wall looks like this…

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If this is going to be a fair vote, I should probably add that I haven’t picked up a paintbrush since I was twelve. Also, I was pretty depressed last night and this morning and I took the day off work… Also, in my head, the painting that I was going to make was very minimalist. A purple line on a white square perhaps? A very simple washed out rainbow… but as I painted, I just had to give this mural some colour.

I keep thinking about how excited the kids will be when they see it.

Now, I’m pretty sure that I failed the hypo-mania vs. normal vote. Because painting a mural on the bathroom wall is not normal for me.

Can I just rant about how much this fucking ass balls lick cunt SUCKS! I am just going along having a nice life, feeling like things are coming together, having successes at work, taking care of my kids, feeling like we may just be stable enough to buy a house… and bam! I feel like shit again and have to be absentee mom… I just need to convince myself that this will dissipate in a day or two (it better).

I know that there are lots of people who have it much worse than me but this is really not fair. I’m doing everything right. I’m eating well, exercise, taking my meds… It’s really not fair. It’s like I am always walking around with a piano suspended above my head and I’m holding the rope keeping it from falling on me but sometimes, even if I don’t let go, it just randomly slips and falls on me. splat. and now you try to go about your normal activities with a fucking piano on top of you. and then, to top it all off, i feel super guilty for dropping the piano again.

But on the sunny side, at least I channeled my crazy to make something nice for my kids 🙂

Wet pet

They say that your children will be your best teachers.

Today I was reading One Fish, Two Fish to my two year old. He stopped me at the page with the sad wet pet. “O no- he is so sad.”

Then he proceeded to talk to the picture, “you sad because you are all wet? You have your hat, don’t be sad.” Then he kissed the picture and pet it gently and whispered, “it’s ok. Shhh. You don’t have to be sad.”

Then I had an epiphany. (In my head) “Omg, my son is consoling somebody who is upset. He is trying to cheer him up.” Maybe this is how it is actually supposed to work. Maybe there is no benefit to being sad. Maybe it’s not a stupid or cruel thing to try to cheer up someone who is crying.

I guess I always think its a bit suspicious when my husband tries to console me or cheer me up when I am crying. Maybe that’s a weird thing to be suspicious of.

Where I came from (crazy upside down land), I think people were just ignored (at best) when they cried. I mean, if you give your family members help or attention when they cry then they will just cry all the time. Right?

Maybe people cried so often that it wasn’t something that shocked me. It was no surprise to come home from school to find a mother or a sister or yourself crying on the kitchen floor. Trying to console one of them will just get you yelled at (and blamed for the crying). So suppressing empathy is really a basic survival lesson.

Which brings me back to the beginning. Have I failed my son by not teaching him basic survival strategies for crazyland? Or can I take his empathy for the wet sad pet as proof that I am in fact creating a different world for my children than I had.

And can I learn from my beautiful boy that this is actually how it should be.

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The greatest love of all

I have been having crazy vivid and bothersome dreams lately. Some make no sense or give me tips about the future. note: this is not the post where I list out the numbers that align to ever past and future global catastrophe- maybe next week.

Note #2: this is another post where I bitch about my mom – feel free to skip this if you are sick of hearing about her. If you want to learn about other shit I obsess about, you could use the time that you would have spent reading this post to google “baking soda shampoo”. Fascinating.

Anyway, back to my dream: I am starting to think that dreams might actually be a clue to stuff that i don’t realize I’m thinking about. I guess that’s kinda an obvious generic thing to say. Time for a fun example:

The past two nights I had two very different dreams with one consistent theme: my mom was taking all of my stuff and I was trying to get away from her.

Is this a common recurring dream for most people? …googling… Didn’t think so.

But there were a few good things about the dreams (not really good, just good for me right now).

In the dream, I was trying the whole time to just get away from my mom. I wasn’t really upset about the stuff or trying to get on her good side so she would stop raging at me. I was just holding onto my kids and husband and leaving her there with all of the stuff (bags, clothes, appliances, books).

The more I think about this the more I feel like this dream is really a window into where I am at right now.

I’m in a place where I have everything that I need and I am fortified against her. She can’t hurt me using her old weapons and since she is unable to adapt or evolve, I am safe now. And it’s not about the stuff.

My mom can keep all the stuff. It doesn’t matter. She can keep my childhood memories. She can keep the dishes that she promised me and ‘can’t find’. She can keep her granite countertops and the pictures on her mantel of grandchildren she doesn’t care to know. She can keep the illusion of her perfect life. She can keep the tea cups that she never uses but won’t give me. She can keep all the stuff that used to be mine when I lived in her house.

But she can’t take what matters. She can’t make me turn on myself. She can’t upset my kids. She can’t get between me and my husband. She can’t take my kindness and empathy.

“…can’t take away my dignity. Because the greatest love of all is happening to me. I’ve found the greatest love of all inside of me.”

Note: I warned you that this was going to be all about my mom… I bet you are wishing you had read about the baking soda shampoo instead…at least then you’d have shiny hair.

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