Since my last post, I’ve been in a good place, a bad place and now a worse place. Today I can barely smile for my kids. I feel like such a failure.
My husband dropped me off for my coping skills course; I didn’t want to get out of bed. Lucky to have someone who cares(even when I don’t).
Right now most of my energy is going into keeping my job, so I’ll post when I can.
Be well.


On my way out

After a horrible week/month/winter, I’m finally feeling a little more like myself. Today I left the house early enough that I would be able to get a coffee if I could make myself walk far enough away from the house. It was so nice out side, that I could have kept walking for hours. The kids and I splashed in puddles at the school and all the way home. I found myself smiling at no one and realized that I was on my way out of the forest.
I hope you find your way soon.


I hate myself. I can’t do anything right. I’m so angry. I want to yell and scream. I hate myself for wanting to because I’m in front of my kids. So I have a glass of wine. When Neil gets home and I know everyone is taken care of I have a few more. Now I don’t want to scream but I still hate myself. I hate myself for being weak; for gaining back 40, maybe 50lbs of the 75 that I worked so hard to lose; for being such a horrible role model for my beautiful children; for not having the discipline to be better.
I feel like I’m drowning. I feel like I have nothing to hold onto and I’m sinking. Physical pain is the only thing keeping me afloat; it keeps me from the numbness of the abyss. It’s not an ally, just a survival tool. But there are always consequences.
Depression lies.
Maybe tomorrow will be better.

Leggings and Shorts

I, like most people I know, hate laundry. This doesn’t mean I don’t do it, I just don’t like it; so I tend to wait until everyone has a good deal of laundry in their baskets, basically so I can do it in one hellish day instead of several, only mildly hellish days per week.

Often while walking home from school Hanna, Josh and I will end up walking with two of their friends who live between the school and our house. This was yesterday;

Friend to Hanna: Why are you wearing leggings and shorts?

Hanna: Because my shirt’s not long enough to be a dress and I don’t have any clean pants.

Friend looks at me, looks at Hanna: My mom makes me wear my stuff two or three times unless it has a stain on it.

*Thinking to myself: Seems to me that’s the deal at our house too.

Hanna: Yeah, but I still ran out.


Me, when we get home: Hanna, sweetie, can you please tell me when you’re out of clothes?

Hanna, deadpan look on her face: Ok, mom. I’m out of pants.

I guess that makes today laundry day? *sigh* Time for another cup of tea.



Just so you don’t think I’m neglecting my kids, Hanna’s 8, Josh is 7 and they both know how to bring their respective laundry baskets downstairs to the laundry room. In fact, after our discussion, they did exactly that last night. And it turns out Hanna did have pants left, but “They weren’t in the right drawer.”  Did I mention that they put away their own clothes?

To sleep or not to sleep

Lately my brain has been on an anti-sleep kick(thank you, sleep-stealing anxiety). So much so, that after my kids and my husband leave for school I will often take a nap. ‘What’s wrong with a short nap?’ you may ask. Nothing … except that if I want to be able to wake up and get anything done. Today I set myself 6 different alarms. When I’d press snooze on one, two different alarms would end up going off at once, five minutes later! Six different alarms and almost thirty minutes later, I’m just awake enough to tell that my epilepsy still doesn’t like the waking-up/sleep deprivation process and ‘oh crap, it’s time to pick-up the kids or the school secretary is going to realize she can start charging me babysitting fees to keep them after hours’.
Give me back my NIGHTTIME sleep!!!

Becoming … what?

I don’t know who I am anymore.  In school, I played by the books.  Once I graduated I rebelled in every way I was comfortable with.  I found an amazing man who was willing to go through life’s ups and downs with me; I became ‘Mom’ when we had two beautiful babies.  I’ve been ‘Mom’ for eight years.  More specifically, because child care is expensive and my Epilepsy makes working away from the home difficult, I was ‘Stay at home Mom’.  But how does that work when your kids are out of the house all day with school and other activities?

This past winter my depression and anxiety flared when I had a seizure at home, by myself.  It was the first in a year and a half, which means I’m very lucky to have medication that mostly controls things.  I no longer wanted to leave my house, but even when I did, my anxiety would have me sweating, dizzy and rocking in a corner.  “What if you have a seizure outside?  What if there’s no one around to see you?  What if somebody does see you?”  Some days I would tell myself that these were not good enough reasons to spend the rest of my life inside, but anxiety has a way of being completely irrational, so it didn’t often matter.  Eventually I admitted to my husband that I needed help.

So I went to a free program(thank goodness for Canada’s health programs) and a lovely Psychologist told me that I have Borderline Personality Disorder(BPD).  After reading about it, it didn’t come as a surprise.  I would often find myself thinking about hurting myself, consciously(burning or puncturing) or unconsciously(binge eating); I was afraid to be alone(although having a cat that I often talk to means that if I’m home, I’m good); I was often sad or just completely void of feeling and I felt completely without purpose.  I think the numbness was the worst, because it was just a dark void where I was always alone.

Today I really meant to talk about the part where I’m without purpose.  Instead it’s a long ramble, but I’m still new to this.  So where am I headed?  Right now I can’t make myself care.  I just keep trying to trudge through my daily “MUST DO” list(pick up kids from school, make sure everyone has access to food).  If I’m lucky, I’ll put in some laundry or do dishes.  On a good day, I’ll gather up enough info for my social media work que so I can keep my job.  I just try to keep my head above water; try to keep breathing.

If you’re out there, floundering with me, whether your circumstances are the same or completely different … ‘Just keep swimming’.

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