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Posted in mental health, recovery

Living Suicidal [National Suicide Prevention Day 2018]

IF YOU ARE STRUGGLING WITH SUICIDAL THOUGHTS – CALL 1-800-273-8255 

Today is National Suicide Prevention Day, a day that’s very important to me. In fact, suicide prevention in general is very important to me. (I mean, obviously it should be important to everyone…)

I’ve talked very openly about my experience in the past on this blog and the day I came home from treatment after my suicide attempt, I swore I’d never keep my mouth shut about it. Despite what other people wanted me to do. Some people get embarrassed or uncomfortable when I talk so openly about my past struggle, and they get even more uncomfortable when I talk even more openly about my current struggles.

You see, my struggle with suicide didn’t end at seventeen. No, that struggle has been going on for fifteen years. Have I actively tried to kill myself all fifteen of those years? No, of course not. But I have spent a lot of those years actively struggling with the thoughts. This is why I am an advocate for getting properly medicated. I spent so many of those years not medicated. And then once I was medicated, I was wrongly medicated. And I was wrongly medicated because I refused to accept the diagnosis of bipolar disorder. Because even though I was open and willing to talk about my struggles, I still allowed the world to make me feel like certain diagnosis would make me “untouchable” and “undesirable”. I was ashamed to be called bipolar.

When heavily medicated I still couldn’t understand why I would still be daydreaming about ending my life. When viral articles would go around of celebrities ending theirs, I would become obsessed and scour the internet trying to find out the way they did it, why… and it would put me into a deeper depression. And then I would make myself feel even worse for being so “broken”. I would tell myself I am worthless and useless. That I’m wasting everyone’s time. And honestly, I know this can be hard to hear, I’d be jealous.

And then I would tell others that they are brave for getting properly medicated. I would tell them they are strong and powerful and worthy of such a wonderful life. It was true. So true. Yet I couldn’t believe it in myself. I was just broken and I was never going to be okay. And I was doing something wrong. I was screwing up. I wasn’t taking the meds right… I was just a failure.

But instead I was just the way I am. This is the way my brain is. I can’t help it. I am just being me. There was nothing I was doing wrong. Nothing I could help other than just trying to do the best I can and keep trying to live and figure out how to live better as the days go on.

So I fought. I fought and I kept fighting for my life. And I realized that I should take my own advice and get properly diagnosed and be properly medicated for a disorder I was ashamed of when I shouldn’t have been.

Does that mean I’m no longer suicidal? No. Not at all. Because without these medications, I can guarantee you that things won’t be okay right now. How do I know? Because I’ve tried it. I tried it against all better judgement. And I had an angel of a friend tell me to stop being an ass [sorry parents] and get back on my medication. So I did.

The point of this blog today was to tell you that living suicidal is an every day fight. That even with proper medication I still have fleeting thoughts, that thankfully now go away a lot faster than they ever have before. But I still have to make myself take my medications. I still have to fight for my life (so to say).

And so you should fight for your life too. Keep fighting. Stay for another tomorrow. You can do this. You can. I have. You might feel like no one wants you here for tomorrow. Trust me, I’ve felt that. It isn’t true. I want you here. Even if I’ve never met you before, I want you here. Send me a message. Let’s talk. Stay. Just stay for tomorrow. Tomorrow Needs You.

Posted in mental health, recovery

When The Enemy Wins.

Hi Friends.

I have to talk to you about some stuff, is that alright? You might have noticed that my posts took a huge dive this summer. I’d like to say that it was because we’ve been super busy (which we are, but not like… so busy that I can’t post something, ya know?). Okay well, hold on. Let me tell you what led me to this post:
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I have a wonderful friend named Liberty (name not changed to protect the innocent) who I met in a bible study three weeks after my mom died. That bible study was pretty much my favorite one ever. Not the actual study itself, although that one wasn’t bad, it was just the perfectly picked group of women. Women I came to love individually in so many ways out side of the study. Two of which I now see multiple times a week, they’ve become my daily life. So Liberty reached out today and said she needed a sanity check and can one of us come over and keep her company and have our kids distract hers? And maybe let her talk to an adult for a minute? To that I said, “What free food is in it for me?” Because I mean, isn’t that what you’re supposed to ask? Lib always takes care of us, she’s like the best little hostess. She might have a gaggle of screaming kiddos requesting every spare inch of everything she has to give not only physically, but mentally, still she finds the energy and love to make me coffee (AND DINNER) and give me treats and give me a pep talk when I didn’t even know I had come over for one.

So, my darling friend and I got on a casual topic of health (not unusual. I’ve been very open about my eating disorder and struggles). And I just started crying. I had been holding so much in, so much heartache. I want to be done with this, I told her. I thought I was done. I had the surgery so that I could be forever done with this conversation. But then my mom died and I gained 70 pounds. And here I am two years later with the same 70 pounds and I’m a failure. And I feel like I can’t even blog anymore because I’m a hypocrite. How can I talk about getting help for your mental struggles and all that, when I can’t even help myself? How much longer can I talk about strength when I feel like I have no more to give? I’m not worthy of it. Who wants to read someone saying, “Hey guys! You are worthy. You are powerful. You are strong.” When a lot of times I have a hard time even believing it in myself if I still haven’t overcome a 30 year battle? When I went to Eating Recovery and still haven’t survived this?

To that she said, “Why are you letting the enemy tell you that people don’t need to hear that you’re struggling? Why are you letting the enemy hurt you? You are strong enough to speak up and fight. So fight.” (Or something along those lines that were much more elegant because she was pretty amazing at what she said tonight.)

So I’m telling you that I’ve let the enemy win in many ways this summer. The enemy has slowly started to take over in a lot of ways that I didn’t notice. Normally the enemy crashes in and takes me out in big ways, uses my mental health against me. This time I’m finally winning that battle. This time I’ve fought so hard. I owe a lot of that obviously to God, and my amazing friends and family, but I also a lot to this blog. I fully laid it all out and said, HEY. And you all said, ME TOO! And so we put our hearts out together and we grew stronger. (At least I feel like we did.) And so, the enemy is going to have a harder time taking me down that way. So, instead, he has to work from another angle. I’ve noticed I’ve stopped praying at night, I’ve stopped journaling, I’ve stopped exercising, I’ve stopped doing my bible studies… heck, I stopped opening my Bible outside of church, and mostly he’s started making me see myself through a different lens again. Even though I had gained the 70 pounds over a year ago, I was still able to see “Skinny Tabitha” in the mirror. I still was able to be like, “It’s fine because I’m still not 400 pounds like I once was.” And then a few months I started seeing Her again. (Pic with Liberty. It’s fine, she’ll be famous one day anyway, I’m sure. I need to put picture proof here so she won’t forget us little people.)

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I saw this picture posted on the church we attend together’s Instagram and instead of being like, “OMG LOOK HOW HAPPY AND CUTE WE ARE!” I cried. I said, “It’s Her.” And I felt defeated. I felt like I had truly finally, officially failed at this.

So, where do I go from here? How do you climb out of self pity? How do you defeat the enemy? How do you fight?

Well, I guess I have to start by doing all the stuff I stopped doing, right? Just start at the beginning again? Pick up a Bible. Pray. Journal. Move my butt. Right? That’s all you can do? Start again. And if it doesn’t work, you keep starting again. You keep digging your way out. You keep going. KEEP. GOING. Do not let the enemy win. I don’t know everything, but I do know that.

xo
Tab

Posted in Uncategorized

What a week without my child has taught me…

Sharing an old one today. Kiddo has spent another week away from us and as the time comes to a close, I thought I’d read this old post to see if anything has changed. My mental state is absolutely better. So that is awesome! But that boy is still my reason for getting out of bed in the morning and man I can’t wait to see him today! 😍

Messy Worthiness

Well first off, it taught me I quite enjoy not answering 68 questions before noon. That’s for sure.

Kiddo went to spend the week with his grandparents and I was supposed to spend that week relaxing and soaking in every dang second of him not being home. I was supposed to get to do things I don’t normally get to do, like go to a late movie, date my husband, get a sudden urge to go to Walmart at midnight… I was pumped and ready to party. Obviously. 

Instead I spent 90% of that week wallowing in deep depression. The other 10% was certainly spent with my husband and wonderful, but for the most part I just sat and cried or had anxiety attacks. (the upcoming anniversary of my mom’s death isn’t helping anyone here.)

What it taught me is that I need that kid more than I ever realized…

View original post 478 more words

Posted in mental health, messy mama

Beating Kiddo Summer Anxiety – Week 1

Summer is upon us, y’all. It’s hot, I’m sweaty, and my child is cheerful before noon and I don’t get to dump him off at school. So, you know, I’m really enjoying every minute of this. 

So, my last post was all about Kiddo’s anxiety and how not having school 5 days a week, or at least a plan for his day, has really been bothering him more than we thought it would. I mean, I don’t blame him. I also need plans. So, I came up with this:
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It was just something I threw together so that we could both have a plan for the day if there wasn’t one. Things are allowed to be changed and adjusted, but frankly I have no real exciting plans this summer…. so this is going to help all involved.

Also, now that I’m taking a look at that picture after my first week of attempting this plan… I forgot about the “Letters of the Week” and those weren’t even addressed. So, things are going well.

Monday was our first go at this. We got on the couch, popped popcorn, got apples and peanut butter, and busted out some Transformers.
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This is where I learned that my child is a person that asks questions during the part of the movie that would answer the question if he would just WATCH IT HIMSELF. People that do this bring out a rage in me. But, y’all, I held it together. I made a snarky Facebook post about it and carried on with our day. He loved it. It was special. Day one: WIN.

Tuesday was Library day. Sweet. We signed up for the summer reading challenge and we already have like 67890 points, not to brag. So, Day two: WIN.

Wednesday was Water Day. Thanks to a friend who happened to invite us over for a water day already on Wednesday, this day was also a good one. Day Three: WIN. (also a win because I got to sit indoors while the kids were outside.)

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Thursday was Thanksgiving day. This is a day I wanted to devote to focusing on kindness. (Although he’s welcome to not be a jerk all the other days of the week as well. As am I, but ya know, one person at a time around here.) His little buddy broke his leg the other day, so we decided he needed some lovin’ in the form of a get well card, fun socks to sleep in over his cast, and coloring stuff! Day Four: WIN. 
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Now, you might be saying to yourself, “Tabitha, it’s only Thursday. Why aren’t you waiting until the full week is over to make this post?” Well, friends. I will tell you that my boy is going to Grandma and Papaw’s house for the week starting tomorrow. So, I’m gonna go ahead and predict that as a WIN. And that also qualifies as a “Friday – go to someone’s house”.

So, really, what we can take away from all this is that I’m an amazing mom and I win at everything.

Thank you, the end.

 

 

 

Okay, fine maybe not. BUT I did win at this for at least this week, right?

What are you doing to combat the summer? Give me some ideas!

XO
Tab

Posted in mental health, messy mama

Perfectly Picked. [A Messy Mama Post]

Soooo… it’s been three weeks. My bad. But also like, May took.me.down. The last month of school is the most ridiculous month ever. Why do we feel the need to shove everything in at the end? It stresses me out. I’m over it. Whatever, it’s over. Here I am. I’m alive. And sweaty. I’M SWEATY AND ALIVE.

At the height of my bad days with Kiddo, I remember being told by several people, “You were picked to be the parent of your child for a reason. There is a reason. It’ll get better.” And more things of that nature. And of course in the moment I’m like, Wow how sweet. Thank you so much. And then the cynic in me that we all know is there would be like, “GAAAAWWWWDDD Shut up with that. Technically I picked this kid because I adopted him and now I’m getting bit in the butt with this decision.” Yes, I know, that’s not a flattering thought to admit to thinking as a parent, but I’m always being real with y’all.

Fast forward to my current life, and wouldn’t you just know that those damn statements are true? Of course they are. Of course. Of course there is a reason I’m Kiddo’s mom. Of course. Now, let me explain.

When Husband and I were applying to be foster parents many moons ago, I remember one of the questions they asked us was along the lines of, “If it turns out that your child has some mental health issues, how will you respond?” (because many, many, many do) And I remember being like…. how will I respond? Uh, considering I’m riddled with mental health issues, I suppose that would be a non-issue around here. I’d just be like, Hey Pal, welcome to the family. You fit right in. And we all kind of giggled and a lot of other personal information was asked and we were approved and blah blah blah, four kids later – we adopted our boy. ❤ [I do realize that was super not a touching moment just now, but like…there’s other posts I’ve written about those times. Haha]

We started noticing a little less than a year ago that Kiddo had a touch of anxiety. He is extremely outgoing and obnoxious… unless there’s about more than 10 people. Then the fun and games are over for him. He shuts down and has to be slowly introduced into the situation. And if there is zero people he knows involved, then it’s tougher. But usually there’s always a friend if we are in a situation like that. He also, I’ve started to notice, needs to ask me what the day’s plan is. He asks me simply things like, “Is it a school day?” “Is it a church day?” Things like that. (He’s 5) He just wants to know what the goal here is. I get it, me too dude. So, really the anxiety was just coming around to being those simple things. Easy peasy, I could handle it. The “issue” never lasted more than 15 or so minutes and he would move on, get accustomed to the situation, etc.

So, when I tell you that we went to a birthday party last Saturday and he started hyperventilating and having a full blown panic attack, I am just as shocked as you are. The party was for one of his friends at a park. Now, there was also another party going on at the same time, so the people in attendance was doubled. Still, we’ve been to this park 3 billion times, I didn’t even think twice about it. Plus, there’s tacos and donuts. What is there to think about?

I noticed instantly he didn’t want to leave my side. It’s Texas, I’m sweating to death, I’m grumpy, I am Mother-of-the-Year and I push him off of me and say, “OMG GO PLAY OR YOU DON’T GET DONUTS.” Then I proceed to try to socialize with the other parents at the party. I see him sitting alone on a chair at the park just staring at me. (That sounds super creepy, it kind of was.) And of course, because I’m excellent at this, I walk over to him and I’m like, “DUDE WHAT’S UP?” And he tries to get me to play with him. Now, he’s an only child. So this is a problem I come across often. He’s used to playing with just me. GO PLAY WITH OTHER PEOPLE, BRO. But after a few minutes I notice this is different. He’s not even having fun with me playing with him, he just wants me next to him.

It finally looks like he might to to a slide, so I follow him over and kind of slow down to talk to another parent and he stops and comes back to me and shuts down. He refuses to go back to the slide. Finally, I pull him off to a bench and sit down and I’m like… what’s up? And he starts repeating over and over again, “I need to be alone. I just need to be alone. I need to be alone.” Now, this is something I’ve taught him to tell me if he’s feeling overwhelmed by a bunch of people. This is his little way of saying, “There’s too many kids for a second, I just need a break.” But he’s always just said that. He’s never repeated this over and over and over. He isn’t even looking me in the eye. I mean, he’s looking at me… but he’s not looking at me. Does that make sense?

Then he starts asking for his best friend that isn’t there. (His buddy was on a trip with his family and couldn’t come to the party) He started repeating it over and over again, “I need to be alone, where’s L? I need to be alone, where’s L? I need to be alone, where’s L?” He’s shaking at this point and can’t seem to take a deep breath. I grab him and we leave the party.

After it’s discovered that there is no way in hell that Mommy can produce his best buddy out of thin air, his focus is directed on needing Daddy. Someone I also cannot produce out of thin air, as he is at work. Thus, making this attack last a total of 8 hours. (With a 3 hour nap – of which my kid usually only takes 30 minutes, if at all)

My baby was emotionally drained. But by dinner I was able to produce Daddy and things got a little better. Unfortunately, he had a second attack the next day. Not as bad, but still rough.

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ALL OF THIS WAS TO SAY, I was perfectly picked to be my kid’s mom. I have had my share of panic attacks. I’ve had my share of emotional breakdowns. I’ve had my share of 3 hour naps in the middle of the day. I’ve had my share. And I loved my mom so much, but she did not ever handle my mental health the right way. She actually handled it pretty horribly. So, I did my best to do what I would have wanted, I held him. I talked to him like everything was normal. There was no shame. This was okay. It was all going to be okay. We all have days like this, and he isn’t alone. Mommy has hard days too. And we talked about it. We talked about how proud I was of him trying to find ways to express what he needed. I told him how proud I was of him to have picked a buddy that he can turn to when he’s falling apart. Even better, that buddy’s mommy is my fall apart buddy.

God knows what he’s doing when He gives us people. He totally knows. 

You are perfectly picked for this world, kid or not. You are put here for a reason, find it. ❤

xo Tab

 

Posted in messy mama

Messy Mama: When The Days End In Tears.

It’s been a long time since I’ve ended a parenting day in tears. Kiddo is always testing me, but the tears haven’t come so easily anymore. It’s more just eye rolls and mild threats to set all his toys on fire, no big deal.

But man, today was rough. I picked him up from school to news of a rough day. Fine. We all have our days. However, when I calmly and simply just questioned him about it, he threw a tantrum, the likes of which I had never seen before. He was kicking the back of the chair in my car, he was throwing toys, he was screaming like someone was pulling a limb from his body.

Alright, so then I told him he was not allowed to attend a birthday party this evening that I was actually really looking forward to going to. Of course that fueled the rage, resulting in him kicking my walls and screaming more. Not sure who this kid I brought home was, I’ve only seen him behave like this maybe three other times in his 5 years of life.

I made him clean his room and then went in an hour later to help him while we talked calmly about his outburst. He seemed like he was back to normal. So I decided maybe all he needed was some special love. So we sat on the couch and watched a movie together. Awesome.

Then comes a smooth bedtime routine, teeth, book, potty….then telling me to get out of his room.

…Uhhh okay jerk.

So I leave and he then starts screaming at me and demanding that I come back in his room to say prayers and tuck him in???

WHAT IS HAPPENING?

Y’all, today has just been rough. I let a few tears fall and now I’m just sitting on the couch in silence trying to remind myself that these days aren’t forever. That it’s okay to be angry at these moments, but to also remember that this isn’t my every day. To just breathe. Let it go and let him sleep it off. We all have rough days.

And apparently this all started because some kid at school was annoying him.

WELL GUESS WHAT, PAL. YOU’RE ANNOYING ME.

Posted in messy mama

Adventures in Kid Birthday Parties.

Kid birthday parties are exhausting, y’all.

My mom used to groan every time we were invited to a friend’s birthday party and I, of course, would be so freakin’ excited. Birthday parties were the BEST. I mean, free cake? Sign me up. Especially since we never really got to have big birthday parties as kids. Sure, we’d get to have sleepovers, or dinners with friends, but the “big” parties were only for “big” birthdays, like turning 13/16…

So, now that our kiddo is in preschool, he gets invited to more parties than he used to. I always try to let him go, but gahhhh it’s exhausting. ALSO, why don’t adults get to jump in the bounce house? I think that there should be a separate bounce house just for the adults, complete with a bouncer at the door to keep the kids out. And by “keep the kids out”, I mean “violently catapult them back to their own bounce house”. Seriously, it really bums me the hell out watching my kid get to jump while I stand in the heat.

I remember we were at this one birthday party a few years ago and my wackadoo of a child was all wound up from the fun. He suddenly felt like what this party really needed was for him to cover the entire bathroom floor (and his body) in soap and then pee on it. So, you know, that was a blast.

At today’s birthday party he was given candy. yay. yaaaaaay. He’s currently in his bed singing Jingle Bells. Things are going well.

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All that to say, today’s self care comes to you in the form of Bob’s Burgers reruns and a Lunchable I stole from my child from the fridge. He owes me.

The End.

Posted in Ramblings, recovery

The Fight to Write

I remember when I finally, after 16 years, accepted My bipolar diagnosis in November, one of the first things I said to my therapist at the time was, “What if the medication makes me stop….being me?”. I was instantly flooded with the fear that the medication would strip away all the things about me that made me who I am. And without those things, who was I going to be? What if I didn’t like that person? And worse, what if I couldn’t write anymore?

In a lot of ways, my fears became true…ish. The medication truly did prove that I am, in fact, bipolar. The medication stopped a lot of my obsessive thoughts, my irrational spending, my binge eating, and even some more parts of me that I don’t need to get into today because it isn’t the point here. I know those don’t sound like bad things to get rid of, they’re not. But it also got rid of some other things… like my desire to write.

Turns out the bipolar meds alone didn’t do the trick, I still need a high dose of depression meds as well. That’s something I’ve had a hard time accepting over the past few weeks. It’s hard to tell yourself that you need a lot of help to just be “okay”.

Sometimes someone will be so brave to come up to me and tell me they appreciate my writing and openness about my struggles. They’ll tell me that they also have to be medicated and tell me the one medication they’re taking to be okay. And then they ask me what I’m taking. And I internally shame myself.

I take 4 different medications to be okay. I take 4 medications to make it through the day in one piece. That is nothing to be ashamed of. Let me tell myself that again real quick, it is nothing to be ashamed of. You do what you have to do to be okay. You do what you have to do to get out of bed in the morning, to feed your family, to smile at your child, to hug your husband, to take a shower. You just do it. Because without those 4 medications, I absolutely cannot do any of that. And it is nothing I can control.

So back to the part of not writing. One of those medications seems to be fighting against that part of my brain. Let me explain. I still want to write. Often I tell myself, oh! I am going to discuss this! And then something in my brain kicks in and is like, We aren’t going to go there right now. We aren’t going to be sad, or hurt. We aren’t going to tap into anything that makes your brain think about the depression part. So then I give up and don’t do it. My brain has already moved on to something else.

I mean, am I glad my brain is trying to keep me out of depression? Sure. But at the same time, I feel like I was called to be open about mental health and it is driving me insane having to fight against it. So I haven’t written for a long time. I hope you’re still with me. And I hope you understand and forgive me. I’m going to try to fight against this long enough to write once a week.

Even if it means sitting in my car in a Starbucks parking lot because that’s when the feeling hits me. ❤

Posted in Ramblings

Why the Roseanne Reboot is Important.

I am so here for all these television show reboots. The second they announced they were bringing Boy Meets World back (in the form of Girl Meets World) a few years ago, I was like, “BRING IT ALL BACK, BABY!” And here we are, it’s a great day to be alive in my world.

Tomorrow, my family is back on TV.

If you were my friend in high school, you might remember that as the running joke – Tabitha’s family is like an episode of Roseanne. Everyone is yelling at everyone, people are in and out all day, someone is always shouting about having no money, someone isn’t talking to someone else today, there is a sarcastic response to every question, everything is falling apart, and everything is just LOUD… but dammit we love each other.

Roseanne was the first family of its kind on TV and honestly, people loved it or hated it. For me, it was more than just TV. I know that might make me sound a little crazy, but hang on. Roseanne showed me a depressed teenager for the first time in my life. A time in which I too was severely depressed. It also showed me that, even though it wasn’t a real family, that other families aren’t perfect. They don’t have the “after school special” ending every night before they go to bed. Sometimes the day just ends… sometimes it just wasn’t a great day. Sometimes it seems like life is going to fall apart.

Roseanne taught me that family may drive you insane, but at the end of the day… they’re family. That some moms yell and some siblings don’t talk to each other for a little while. That sometimes you don’t have money to pay the bills and sometimes people get divorced. Sometimes you can be falling apart in front of the rest of your family and you can say what you feel like you need to say and sometimes they still won’t understand.

Yes, Roseanne showed all of that. Just watch it all, you’ll see.

Are there families like that on TV now? Um…sure? The Middle shows a “normal” family, so does American Housewife. However… they still have the “happy ending” at the end of the episodes. Roseanne didn’t always. Sometimes topics were hard and sometimes you couldn’t finish it in 30 minutes, it was too important.

I don’t know what tomorrow’s reboot brings, but I hope it’s the same in many ways. I hope it’s real and I hope it gives the world the stuff we need.

Call me crazy, that’s fine, but I’m excited. ❤

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Posted in messy mama, Ramblings

Routine Shake-up

Spring Break is finally over. Thank you, Jesus. I definitely believe that both teachers and kids need a break, but man…that was a beating. Haha okay, not really. It wasn’t a horrible experience. We had tball practice, went to the state aquarium, put our toes in the sand, played with friends, and went to a high school baseball game.

Another significant thing changed, my husband started working a normal schedule. For the first seven years of our marriage, my husband has worked away from home for days at a time. He’d be gone two days, home for 24 hours or less. Lather, rinse, repeat. Two weeks ago he decided he needed a major break. He was getting burnt out and tired of missing everything. So, he switched to a job with the company that let him work a regular shift.

So now he’s home. Every day. And it is…an adjustment.

Don’t get me wrong, I am ultimately happy about this. And even more importantly, I can see a big shift in our son being happy knowing that Daddy is home every day. They’ve even started playing in a rugby club together. And I get to have views like this a lot more.

(Watching Daddy play rugby after his own practice)

But this shift has also made me crawl into myself these past two weeks. I kind of shut down and mentally started checking out. My space and my routine were being invaded after seven years and my brain wanted to shut down. I felt like these weeks would never end, that this would never get better. I started feeling guilty that I wasn’t giddy that my husband was home every day. I love him so much, please don’t misunderstand, but my various disorders thrive on my routines and my alone time. I now have little to no alone time…and Spring Break was not helping.

So I broke down. I cried a lot.

But here I am, the start of week 3 and I’m getting better. Kiddo is back in school and we are developing new routines. And I spoke up and voiced how much I need to be alone sometimes. And he understood.

This is definitely another test in controlling my attitude towards the things life throws at me. My first reaction is always negative and bitter. I’m working on that. And this change isn’t forever, he will go back to his normal job eventually. But I am glad that he got a chance to take a break. He definitely needed it.

Although…I feel like I can’t be blamed for already dreading summer break. Guess I should start working on that attitude now… 😬