There was a time where I would use this blog to vent every frustration, to work through every fear, every emotion. Whenever I was feeling sad, I’d sit down and write through it, sometimes sobbing the entire time I was typing away at the keyboard. I’d feel better almost immediately after writing it, and almost always regret having written it 5 minutes after hitting “publish.”
Writing was therapeutic for me. It has been since I was a little girl. There’s just something about writing through a particular emotion that I have always found comforting. When I suffered a severe depression in 2003, I learned that while writing through my depression was a valuable tool, I needed professional help as well. So, I went and got me a psychiatrist, a therapist and various prescription drugs (which I no longer take.)
I also learned that when you’re open with your thoughts, your emotions, your fears, your mental illness, people will use that shit against you. They will twist your words, they will mock you, they will call you names and so on and so forth. Now, I’m not a sensitive person. I’ve developed pretty thick skin over the years. I’ve had to in order to survive in my family. We’re a pretty brutal bunch and it’s not uncommon to be teased about everything from my weight, to my overly protective nature, to the way that I dress. I have learned to laugh at myself and to even take it a step further and be self deprecating every chance that I get. I’ve also learned that when complete strangers say nasty things, it’s more about them and their insecurities than it is about me. But, not always— I certainly give people a hell of a lot of material to use against me.
I have recently found myself extremely guarded about what I post online. I think it was good for me to pull back a little. However, I think that I’ve taken it to the opposite extreme. I’ve been avoiding writing about anything that involves my “feelings” or “the sadness that I feel deep within my soul because the life as I knew it has been completely turned upside down and my husband is depressed and not helping at all to get us out of this situation and I am the only one obsessively looking for a house we can afford and trying to get a better job and saving money and why isn’t he helping me? Does he want to live with my parents forever?” and instead writing about things like van heaven! And bean dip! Because hahaha! No one can use bean dip against you. (Except, they totally can, because did you know that the reason we don’t own a house is because I spend all of my husband’s money on BEAN DIP! 8 dollars a day to be exact!)
I recently confessed to Liz that I find it hard to write the way I used to, because I feel more guarded and protective of my feelings. She said something that I think about almost every day.
“You have to speak your truth.”
And she’s right. She’s right because I have hundreds of saved emails from women who have written to me to tell me how much they can relate to the things that I write. I’ve had women tell me very personal things that have made me weep because I know how they feel and NO ONE should feel that way about themselves. I have emails dating back to 2005, because those emails have meant the world to me and sometimes, when I’m having a really bad day, I’ll go back and read them. I feel so grateful to every single person who has taken the time out of their lives to send me an email telling me their stories, or offering their moral support, or giving me advice, or telling me their praying for me and my family.
I am sorry if you’ve sent me one of those emails and never received a response from me. Truly sorry, because as many excuses as I could give you for not responding, there really isn’t an acceptable excuse for it at all.
I’m not even sure where I’m going with all of this because what I was TRYING to say is that I want to find a healthy balance in which I write about things that are important to me (like my weight “issues” and my “feelings” ) and at the same time hold some things back because, really, The Internet doesn’t need to know everything.
One of the reasons that I love having this blog is that I can go back and read about things that my boys said and did four years ago. Things that I probably would have forgot about had it not been for this blog. I love reading how I felt when I found out I was unexpectedly pregnant with my daughter, or when Tony told me he wanted to “put a cup on my ass.”
The truth is my life is pretty shitty right now and I am sad most of the time. Not depressed, sad. That doesn't mean that I am unable to find "joy" in my life, it just means that sometimes, I get sad. I’ve avoided writing much since moving in here with my mom because I’m really working hard on holding my true feelings prisoner inside of my head and pretending that “I’m FINE!” because if I say how I really feel or let that shit out, I don’t think I would ever stop crying. So, I save my tears for my pillow at night and put one foot in front of the other with a pretty little smile during the day.
PigHunter isn’t doing well either and has chosen to isolate himself from me and go to bed early instead of helping me get the hell out of my parents house. I try not to get upset with him, because I know he’s depressed and feeling like he’s failed his family. (because contrary to Popular Assholes on the Internet Opinion- he DOES share some blame in this situation, but I don’t air that stuff here because he’s a good man, an incredibly good father and I love him.) The truth is, we’ve both failed and this has been a huge wake up call for me. Most days I straddle the line of wanting to shake him and say “YES,YOU SCREWED UP, BUT SO DID I AND WE CAN MAKE THIS BETTER! HELP ME MAKE THIS BETTER!” and wanting to just squeeze him so tight and weep and tell him how proud I am for everything he’s done for this family and how it isn’t the end of the world, but the beginning of a new life for us.
The good news is that, with the exception of Gabby at bed time, the kids are as happy as they’ve ever been here at Grandpa and Grandma’s house. They can swim in the pool! Or play video games all night with their uncle! And the only chore they have is to clean up Bandit’s poop! It’s like an extended vacation! I was really worried about Ethan, because he was so devastated about leaving the only house he’s ever known, but he loves it here and I couldn’t be happier about that.
The other day I was in my room with Gabby and my dad called me. I asked him what he wanted and he said he wanted me to come and sit next to him. I got nervous, expecting another sermon on how all of this was happening because I had fallen away from God and if I would just get right with Him, things would start falling into place in my life.
But that’s not what happened. My dad hugged me and said “I love you, Mija.” And I said “I love you too, dad.” And then, he started to cry.
“Dad, don’t cry! Why are you crying?” I said, trying to fight back my own tears, because, “I’M FINE!”
“Because, I love you and I hate to see you hurting this way. I hate seeing you stressed out and constantly worried. You’re my daughter, I love you and I want the best for you and I am sorry that you’re going through all of this.”
Totally didn’t expect that. I wanted to cry, I wanted to just let it all go and tell him just how sad I really feel, but I didn’t, I held it in, except for a little tear that escaped and fell down my cheek while my dad openly wept for me.
He then started to pray for me in a way I’d not heard him pray before. Instead of asking God to “deal with me” for my sinful ways, he asked God to bestow his love and joy upon me. He asked God to show me his kindness and to take away all of my burdens and fears. I just sat there, not knowing what to say or do, fighting back tears because my dad could see through the facade and recognized how sad, nervous and stressed out I really am.
To see my dad break down like that was strangely comforting, to know that he loves me and worries for me.
I needed to know that and I definitely needed that prayer.
And what I really need now is to stop talking about this already and go back to holding it all inside because it’s much safer there and all of this crying makes me look even uglier than I already feel.
But! Before I go, I want to leave you with a little "treat." (Yes, I am calling it a treat.) Remember a while back I had written another really long post and I told you about some tapes my mom found that contained recordings of 6 year old me singing songs about Jesus?. Well, my mom had those tapes put onto a CD and I just listened to it and now, I am going to share it with all of you, because I know you want to hear me singing songs about Jesus.
It's good to see you online again! I have your site in my Favorites, and check every day to see if you've posted. I tell people about things that happen- "yeah, the woman on one of the blogs I read? Guess what her horrible landlord did?!?!" and I have cried and laughed at posts you've written more than almost any other blog I read. (Liz at damomma.com might be a tie)
I've been so hoping that everything would start working out for you, and was upset when I read about Pighunter's accident.
I'm glad that one good thing that came out of the house situation was the conversation between you and your dad.
Love the recording of you singing!
I hope youd do keep "speaking your truth". I am in awe of you, and want to keep reading all about the happenings in your life!
Love,
Della