Putting Down the Shield and Removing My Armor

Today I'm really going to open up and expose myself. It will be hard for me to share this publicly, but it will hopefully be therapeutic.

I feel like I'm a terrible mother. I know a few mothers who also have children with special needs and they're so strong, so elegant. I don't feel that way. Some days I feel like I don't deserve to have my son in my life because those days I fear I'm not strong enough. What kind of mother wishes there had been a different outcome or wishes her child could change and be "normal"?

I am sometimes that mother, and I've been that mother a lot lately. There are days my boy is so strong and works really hard and holds his head. But there are days he refuses to do any therapy exercises or he'll be in his carseat with his head flopped forward or sideways like he has no muscle at all. Those days are hard. I feel he's stuck and he'll never improve, that he'll never hold his head which means he'll never sit unassisted or crawl or walk... I'm losing hope.

Before he was born I had all these visions of the future. A child running around with a soccer ball, wrestling with Uncle, Grandpa or Dad. After he was born those visions were stronger because he was physically here. Then six months later everything changed when the problems started. Now I mourn them and fear they're lost forever. Tears sting my eyes often.

Last night I sat in bed and cried. I cried for the unknown. I cried for him. I cried for myself... I kept asking why. Why can't things be different? Why can't you (my son) be stronger/normal? I wish you were running around and getting into trouble. Then finally, why can't you (myself) be strong? I woke feeling terrible. Currently I'm holding him while he sleeps, wishing to snuggle the feeling away. However, in the back of my mind all I hear is, "You're a terrible mother."

Maybe all this is jumbled and makes no sense to you. Maybe I haven't expressed my feelings well. I just know, or rather feel, I'm not a good enough mother, that my son deserves better.

All About Buttercup

Buttercup is mine and hubby's cat. We adopted her a half a month before we got married. She was a silly little thing. She was quiet and snuggly. I had a stuffed monkey that was long and skinny and she would drag it around with her, attacking it and tossing it around. Quite frequently, when we lived in Utah she would have asthma attacks. Since moving to Florida those attacks are few and far between.

For the longest time she avoided my siblings. They would pick her up and she hated to be picked up. But once they turned 12 or 13, she bombarded them with need. Her neediness and meowing has increased drastically since we moved to Florida. There was a span of about five to six months during my pregnancy where she pretty much avoided me. She would come up for me to pet her, but she wouldn't sit or sleep on me. She used to sleep on my legs all night. It wasn't until my belly ballooned outward that she'd curl up on my lap again.

After our son was born the neediness returned and the meowing intensified. She would stare at him with this look that seemed to say "what is this thing and when will it leave my bed." Whenever our son would cry, she'd bolt. As my son's needs have grown due to his medical issues, I've found I'm less patient with Buttercup's neediness and incessant meowing. When the day is done and my son is asleep, I just want time to myself and not be harrassed by a cat. Now she's acting out. She's hissed at my son when he cried one night. She's scratched him while I was in the shower. Yesterday she threw up on our bed then threw up on the carpet next to the couch on the spot where I rest my feet.

Now when she meows at me and follows me around, all the while meowing, I want even less to do with her. Saying all this makes me sound like a terrible person, but I need some time in the day where I don't have to cater to anyone or anything. All my strength and all my efforts go to Liam. I don't have enough to pour on Buttercup. Right now I feel like I can't deal with her and her neediness. I don't know what to do...

Fell Off the Wagon

Yep. This morning I picked at my skin. My son was up early. I realized after sitting on the ground next to his bed nest for awhile that I was picking at little bumps I felt on my lower back. I stopped. But as I sat in our bed with him waiting for him to fall asleep I started picking at the zits on my face. To be honest the only thing going through my head at the time was, "Fuck it. I don't care anymore." My boy slept for an hour and a half, but I could only doze off occasionally and woke frequently.

After I woke up and looked in the mirror, I felt ashamed. My face didn't look at well as it had been looking. Even after all that shame, I found myself picking throughout the day. It looks like I'll have to bring a pair of gloves downstairs so I don't pick at my arms. Another option is long sleeve tops, which is doable. I just need to get focused again.

Like an Addiction

Today has been very hard. I kept waking up in the night which sucks because my son slept for 10 hours. All that sleep wasn't enough to make him cheerful. He was still tired, and consequently he was very cranky. He fought his medicines. He screamed so I took him outside to calm him because I didn't want to wake every person in the house. Giving him a bottle was unsuccessful in getting him to sleep. He would start crunching and then grind his teeth loudly. It became apparent that the culprit was teething; pain from the cutting tooth and gas because of teething. I gave him Tylenol and naturally he screamed some more as I gave it to him. I don't know why he hates it so.

After Jake woke up, we decided to take our boy and my sister to the local farmers market and then to Cracker Barrel for breakfast. He was actually really well behaved while we were out and took on 45-minute nap when we returned home. This is when the trouble started for me...

This afternoon my fingers kept travelling to my face. I could feel little pimples in various areas. When I would go to the restroom I would see them. I started spending more time in the bathroom. I'd look at my face closely in the mirror and hunt for pimples and blackheads. I wouldn't pop them, but I really wanted to. I'd mimic popping them in the hope that it would quell the urge. That didn't happen though. It backfired. Instead I'd sit in a chair and touch my face while watching soccer with my husband. I contemplated picking at one pimple, just one. That wouldn't hurt anything, right. I felt like an alcoholic sitting at a bar, staring at a beer and saying to myself, "I'll just have one. Only one. That's not going to hurt anything. Just one glass." All the while knowing that one beer will turn into three, then six and the next thing I'll know is someone will be picking my drunk ass off the floor.

That image kept coming to my mind as I thought seriously about just going ahead and picking a little. It was hard not to do it. Even now I can't in good conscience say I behaved myself. I messed with the bump on my arm that's healing from the big zit that was there. I didn't mess with it long. It was one good squeeze, but it means I cheated. Honestly I do feel bad about it, but I can't let one slip up ruin everything. I can still progress forward. I'll think of this as a learning experience and grow stronger from it.

I Want...

I want to grow something. I want to make something. For a few weeks now I keep thinking about planting vegetables, herbs and fruit. As the weather started to shift towards spring it was all I could think about. Taking my son out and putting him in the shade with some toys while I weed and pick whatever is ripe. The problem is there isn't a way to plant a garden here. The lawn sprinklers use reclaimed water and can't be used to water anything you'll eat. I'm thinking about planting something in a pot on the lanai like tomatoes and herbs. It won't be happening until next year though. It will be too hot now.

It's not going to be a total loss though. My mom and Jake are going to show me how to can and I'm going to make some stuff this year. I'm really excited to learn. She's going to show me how to make and can chutney, salsa, jams and dilly beans. This fall is going to be informative and fulfilling. There isn't a whole lot more to talk about here. I just want to make and grow things... I should start crafting again too.

All About My Son

Many of you reading this know my son's name, but I'm hesitant to write it on the blog. I feel I must keep it safe. Those who know his name also know his struggles, medical issues and the mystery (medically) that is my son. I'm too tired to dive into it all now, so those of you who don't know will just have to wait until I get around to writing that story. If you can't wait and we are friends or family, then you know how to message me and ask for those details.

Anyhow, my son has been making progress developmentally and we're seeing more progress know that he has two PT sessions, so one hour total instead of 30 minutes. Just yesterday I was watching him as his grandma (my mom) left to get his Aunt. As she said goodbye, his arm was moving from side to side in a controlled way. It hit me that he was waving goodbye in response. I wasn't sure. Not much later he was watching me so I said hello and waved at him. I waved my arm from side to side instead of just opening and closing it, which is what we had been trying to teach him. He copied me and smiled as I showered him with praise. I was ecstatic!

Later still I tried again and then he followed suit. I was able to show my husband and my mom. We are all so happy. Then today a thought struck me. He's been doing something similar for awhile now and I just thought it was extraneous movement because he was excited. While a part of me is so impressed that he's most likely been waving for awhile, another part of me felt really shitty for not noticing it until now. What other things have I been blind to? The more I think of it, the more my feels hurt. And they've been pretty fragile all afternoon, even before this thought struck me.

For now I will ignore that sadness and focus on the positive. My boy, who has many challenges that he's struggling to overcome, is getting stronger. He's learning more things. And while some days he can drive me absolutely batty, he will always impress me and feel me with joy. So here's to more progress as we move forward. Oh, and he also sat on his dad's belly this evening and held his head straight for almost a minute! It was exhilarating.

A Review

I missed a few days of writing. What can I say, I was very tired because my son had some rough nights with teething. Needless to say, I had absolutely no motivation to write. Friday I got a mani/pedi with my little sister. Saturday was a lazy day of movie, True Blood and a soccer game. Sunday was Mother's Day and it started out pretty gnarly. Little buddy was up at 1 am and then again at 3 am at which point he stayed up.

The day wasn't a total loss though. With the help of little guy I made some pretty awesome cards for my mom and mother-in-law. I'm impressed with how they turned out. My son did so well. He ended the day on a high note. We played the "get mommy" game and he was squealing with joy. It made my day. He played the game again yesterday, but with his Aunt. It was amazing to watch. I laughed until I cried. Currently little buddy is working on rolling. Today he's managed to go from back to belly all by himself twice and one of those times he made it back over to his back alone, but the second time he needed help.

On the no-picking side of life I'm doing quite well. I had to pop the zit on my arm. It wasn't healing on its own and was looking like it might start getting infected. It kept growing. Today I caught myself as I started to pick at my shoulder. It's always harder the days after a rough night with my son. At least I caught myself and stopped. I didn't do any damage to myself. Hopefully tomorrow will be easier. I'm just so tired and when I'm this tired, I don't eat well and start feeling depressed. I didn't eat anything for breakfast today. I'm trying to catch up on calories by snacking, but I don't have an appetite...

Hopefully tomorrow will be better.

I Feel Pretty, Oh So Pretty

Maybe it's psychosomatic, but since I haven't picked at my face in a few day I feel prettier. I glanced in the mirror before bed and smiled. It may sound crazy, but I felt like I was glowing. The zit on my chest has healed itself and the battle today was the one that popped up on my arm. I successfully resisted. I put on a long-sleeve shirt and forgot about it.

The urges haven't been too strong today and I easily caught myself reaching towards my face. It could be because I was distracted by the problem with my nose stud. I tried to change to a stud that matched my outfit and couldn't thread the new stud through. I got my original post but it was a much thicker gauge and my hole had shrunk down to the thickness, or shall I say thinness, of the new post. In the end all I accomplished was making it bleed so I stopped. At first I was really bummed about it, but tonight I'm fine. To be honest, I wonder if it's time to let it heal and close that chapter of my life.

Isn't it funny how we change? I still want to get ink, but I'm not so interested in having more than my earlobes pierced. And who knows, maybe in a few weeks I'll change my mind and want it back, but for now I feel content. And I feel pretty. I really do. So I think I'm going to ride this train for awhile and remain content.

Another day where decisions were made

Before I tell you my decision (which in hindsight really isn't that big, but I need to write), I'm happy to report that I've not picked today. I was worried that I would falter when I hopped in the shower, but I prevailed! My chest zit is still glaring up at me and driving me crazy. My idea to wear gloves at night was a good one. My hands felt a little softer when I woke up. I did learn that I can't itch my face with my nails for awhile. I hone in on my trouble spots so it's time to only allow my knuckles to itch my face.

Now decision time. As some of you know, I'm shaving my head in June to support my sister. A few days ago I made the decision to bleach my hair and dye it a fun color since I was going to shave it off anyway. However, today it hit me. Why spend a big chunk of money that I don't have when I'm just going to shave it all off on June 7th. I should save that money instead.

A side note: I realized I am NOT good at watching what I eat when I don't log my food every day. Time to get back into that habit so I continue to improve my health.

Turning Over A New Leaf and Kicking A Bad Habit

First, I'll apologize now for any glaring errors. I wanted to get my thoughts down while they were fresh and am writing this post on my phone. I foresee a lot of this in the future, but it's important that I write so if the phone means I'll get it done, then so be it! I've finally come to a point in my life where I'm taking the steps toward change and stopping my worst bad habit, skin picking. Skin picking is a problem I've had for a long time and I know it's bad, but I never really had a true desire to stop.

My memory is that it all started in middle school when I started to have break outs. My picking wasn't limited to my face. I picked at my arms, shoulders, back, legs. Anywhere I felt bumps was fair game. That's right, I said felt. Sure I would look too, but I always absently felt around and went from there. Many times I've looked at my nails and seen blood because I would squeeze too hard or the bump (usually a zit, white head or black head) was close to a vein or something. Even when this happened I wouldn't stop. One time I was waiting in an exam room to talk to my doctor about something. I can't remember why I was there, but I remember picking while I waited. When the doctor came in he said, "My god, you are covered in hives." I had to explain to him that they weren't hives and I had a bad habit of picking at my skin. At this point one would think I'd realize I should stop, but I didn't.

Most people who pick do so because they're anxious. My picking doesn't seem to be limited to anxiety. Yes, I pick when I'm anxious or worried. However, I also pick when I'm bored or thinking about anything. I'd pick in classes, while watching tv, and I am really bad about picking when I'm lying in bed waiting to fall asleep. There was one point where I asked my husband to stop me if he saw me doing it. It wasn't a cure all. Sometimes I'd roll my eyes at him and stop, but mostly I'd try harder to be discreet or I'd hide like a child who hides to suck their thumb.

I accepted that I didn't want to change. Well, times have changed. Recently my sweet sister started pulling at her hair because she was anxious and it has gotten pretty bad. Her hair is visibly thinner and honestly it scared the shit out of me. She would tell us things that would help her release nervous energy like bands around her wrists, or that she can't do it if she wears her hair in a braid. But she wasn't doing these things to help herself stop. I was so frustrated. I didn't understand why she wouldn't do those things to help her stop. Not long ago she purchased some fidget toys called finger tangles and they're helping.

Today a thought struck me after Jake caught me picking. He asked if I was getting any good picking in when he saw my hand on my shoulder feeling around. I was honest and said, "No, I was looking for something to pick and couldn't find anything." He told me he wasn't going to take me in for a tattoo if I wasn't going to stop picking. "Why spend money on a tattoo if there's a chance you'll ruin it picking?" At first I was pissed. I scowled and wanted to tell him, "Fine, then don't get me a tattoo for mother's day/my birthday! Get me something else for all I care!" Then the thought hit me. How can I expect my sister to stop her bad habit if I won't budge to stop mine? How is it fair of me to feel upset when she doesn't do those things that might help her when I do the exact same thing?

I felt like a hypocrite. Right then and there I resolved to change and kick my habit. At night I'll wear gloves to discourage picking while I fall asleep. During the day if I can't keep my hands busy, I'll wear long sleeves to prevent my scouring. Right after I made the decision to stop I saw a white head on my chest. It was REALLY hard to not just pop it. The little white head looked so big and it was mocking me. But I held strong. I didn't touch it. I put on a long sleeve pullover so I could ignore it. I'm happy to report I've still not touched it.

This won't be easy though. In half a day I realized just how often I absently pick. When I'm going to the bathroom I have to clasp my hands together so I don't pick. Countless time my hands travelled to my face and I had to distract myself by twisting my earrings so I wouldn't hunt for a bump that could be a pimple. I've had to avoid mirrors so I don't look for pimples. Now I'm just exhausted. It's going to be a long 90 days, but I'm going to do it. For me and my sister.

To keep this blog or rename and revamp, that is the question...

What do you think? I only have you three followers. I'm thinking about deleting this blog and restarting with a new name and a different direction. There's a personal journey I'm about to embark on. Well, in some ways I've already started it. It feels right to start it with a fresh blog to document my adventure.