This is what depression looks like, Part 1

The first time suicide crossed my mind I was maybe 12 years old. Along with typical teenage angst, my parents were constantly at war with eachother. Police were called. Threats were made. Bruises were laid. So many tears were cried, I felt nothing. Numb. I remember distinctly standing over the sink washing dishes and one of the glasses shattered. This feeling hit me ... what if I run this sharp piece of glass down my arm?

At 15, on a hotel balcony on a gorgeous sandy beach next to the blue ocean, I imagined leaping off. Angry with life, confused about why I felt invisible, hurt, heartbroken and sad.

At 19, my sister introduced me to the wonderful world of meth.. I had just flunked out of college and was feeling so hopeless, so meth was my comfort. Only I did it in secret, alone, never any needles but too many scary encounters. I lived it. I loved it... until I nearly overdosed. remember laying in my bedroom at my mother's house, shivering and sweating, coming down.. detoxing. It honestly felt like I was going to die. And it would have been okay. It only went downhill from there, as I learned I was pregnant by a younger guy I hsd slept with once. He reacted badly to the news and denied it was his child, so when I finally convinced him to drive me to the clinic, it took two failed attempts. When it was actually time for my appointment, he left me to go through everything alone and left me waiting, wondering if he'd even return to get me. (He did.) Then I dated that asshole for three years. He liked to hold me down and scream in my face. Once he threw a bottle of spit from his nasty chewing tobacco habit at me while I was out with friends. He ruined my white dress, my friend's boyfriend threatened to beat his ass, and cops were called. That ended that relationship.

Twenty-one was a bad year. Living alone in my own for the first time, I turned my focus to meth to get through the days. I wonder how I ever managed to keep a job. My loft had a working stove but not a working oven, so my health was seriously neglected. One weekend I felt so bad after work I walked into my mom's house, weak and in tears, and asked her to take me to the hospital. After IVs and tests, doctors said my potassium level was so low it was affecting my heart. Not good since my diagnosis of a heart valve defect earlier in life.

At 23, my life changed with the decision to move to a bigger city out of state. At first I latched onto the wrong people to do drugs with and my "friend" and neighbor of a year took everything I owned when I kept my stuff at his place while moving into a new apartment. When I returned to pick it up, he refused to answer the door and that's the last time I ever saw him - through a peephole.

The next few years were great. No drugs, no hurting myself. I was also drowning myself in martinis nightly, so of course life was wonderful. At 26, my husband and I got married and the first year was full of therapy.

To be continued...

Mom Guilt

My son has been asking for two hours for me to lay down with him and my response was, "I can't, mommy's working. Just a minute baby." He finally gave up on me as he was tucked into his blanket when I got to a stopping point... sleeping sweetly, I kissed his forehead.

This mom feels like an asshole. May this be a reminder that time with my babies, my loves, my hearts, is precious. Work can wait. Snuggles are better for the soul.

Memory lapse

Must remember my twitter password to post thoughts from my phone. It takes too long to get them out if I wait to sit down at a computer .. if they haven't been forgotten.

Cole Breaks His Arm

This week we had plans to meet a few dogs to adopt a furry friend for our Ridgeback, Zeus, and several playdates with our Pirate friends. But on Monday after we met Ranger, this adorable Ridgeback mix, Cole fell as he was running on the driveway and hurt his arm as we were telling Ranger and his owner goodbye.

As a mother, I'm aware that this kid falls like 1,598 times a day and has numerous bruises and scars on his knees from the two left feet inherited from me, unfortunately. So when he was crying, the first thing I asked him was if he was bleeding, and when he said no, I told him he was okay and blew it off until we got inside and he was cradling his left arm and still crying. When he held out his arm, his elbow bone was swollen and he was unable to straighten it. Immediately I could tell it was broken. Panic set in, because my hubby was in a $10,000 CAD class this week and it was not exactly the right time for an ER visit. Luckily, I'm married to the best husband and father, because he dropped everything to go to the hospital with me.

After a quick visit to urgent care, the doctor sent us to a children's hospital in Dallas, where an orthopedic surgeon informed us he'd need surgery and pins to hold his shattered elbow back together. So on Tuesday morning we went in for the surgery and it was over in less than an hour and a half. The doctor informed us it would most likely heal perfectly, as this is the second most common break in kids. Monday at the followup visit, he gets to choose his colored cast. He's leaning toward green or glow-in-the-dark.

Here are some pictures of the injury and our hospital adventures.

Not a little incident

Recently I posted about moving and staying with my mother in my hometown for a few weeks. What I didn't write about was an incident while grocery shopping at the local Walmart where an old man slapped and kicked my 4-year-old.

Yes, you read that right. Some stranger lurking in the checkout line behind us slapped my son across his head and then kicked him in the butt to move him along. It was 2:00 in the afternoon and Stella was crying in the buggy, exhausted and ready for nap, while Cole stood beside me playing with the toys while I loaded groceries. Admittedly flustered, I saw only the white orthopedic shoe hit my son's rear as I was turning to take his hand, and my first thought was to pull my son into the safety of my own arms, which I did immediately. My second thought was, did that really just happen?

I drove to my mom's house shaking with disbelief and anger at that man and guilt that I didn't speak or act in the moment. How could I let this go? I sobbed to my mother, who seethed with rage for her grandson and demanded I call the police immediately.

After reporting it at the police station, I received a phone call from the PD, who had the surveillance footage tape from the store. As my husband and I watched it, we both gasped and cursed out loud when we saw that man's hand make contact with Cole's head. My sweet little boy turned around to look him in the face, like why did you just do that?  He held up his toy to show the man how it worked...my eyes blurred and the rage came back. And then the officer actually asked us if we wanted to press charges, because it didn't look like a real slap, just like he was trying to get Cole to move. Are you kidding?!  "If I did that to an adult in the store, I'd be charged with assault, right?" Kevin asked the officer. He responded with a firm yes. Which is exactly why we are proceeding, we said.

Weeks pass. We're back in Texas, and I find out through Facebook that the city prosecutor - who I'm friends with and dated for a year when I was 16 - had recused himself from the case. The police station knows of the report but has been unable to locate the suspect despite the fact many officers AND the prosecutor KNOW him.

To be continued....

Too much space

I wanted space. A place for my husband to watch the news at 5:30 without kids in the way. A kid-free master suite. An office separate from our bedroom.
And I got it. 2400 square feet of space, all on one level, plus a fantastic patio and backyard with beautiful landscaping.
I'm drowning in all this space. Says the girl who, years ago, tucked herself into tiny hidden secret spots to scribble her emotions into journals while smoking cigarettes.
The kids are away this week for annual VBS with the grandparents and three hours later I'm still walking around aimlessly. The microwave has beeped endlessly calling me to eat and Tru TV is somehow playing in the living room.
Must get a handle on this grown up house and shit.

Conversations with a 4-year-old

Our recent move has really thrown off my son, who's 4, and he has developed a mean case of separation anxiety because of the instability. Te only people our kids are allowed to stay with are our parents and Kevin's grandparents, so the sudden change in behavior has me stumped and frustrated.

He says things like, "I'm gonna miss you when I'm gone at grandma's. I'm gonna miss you so much mom."
Other times he says, "I love you so much Mom, I always want to be with you. I'll die without you, Mom. I can't breathe without you. I can't sleep without you."
Dramatic much?

As we cuddled in his race car bed tonight he held my arm tight and wrapped my hand in his little boy hand, fingernails freshly clipped, and he kissed my nose, forehead, and cheeks. (He's too much of a big boy to kiss his mother on the lips...*sniff)

As his mother, I realize the separation anxiety will start to fade and soon he'll be back to his confident self, even if he's still a momma's boy. So I'm going to enjoy every single one of his snuggles, tight hugs, and nose kisses.

I love you as much as the sun comes up, Cole, and more than the stars in the sky.

Goodbye, first house.

Tomorrow we pack our stuff into the car and Stella, Cole, Zeus and I will head to Missouri to stay with my momma until we move into the new house. There will be a trip back to Texas in between to sign papers to close on our house, but luckily Kevin will be here to close on the new place. I am so ready to move in.

Moving is exhausting.

In our house are four mattresses, a computer, a loveseat, and a TV.

Everything is gone.

We will always love this house. It was our first home. Thank you for the memories.

Cole was born while we lived in this house.

We brought Stella home to this house.

Cole experienced his first snow at this house.

He also learned to ride a scooter.

Daddy fell in love with his second daughter here.

Cole fell in love with water.

And we adopted and lost our lovely TeddyBear dog here, who was Stella's best buddy.

We fed Stella her first meal here.. the kids watched. They grew so much over the years here. Leaving is bittersweet, but an exciting new adventure.

Springtime: Mixing Pretty Prints

Springtime: Mixing Pretty Prints by stacywill featuring a red stripe shirt

College: Is It Really Worth It?

College loans are a huge topic in today's news, and there are so many thoughts about it I wanted to write a blog to address it.

My mom raised my sister and I while working two jobs and going to college for her bachelor's degree in education. I was in my second or third year of my professional journalism career before my mom earned her degree -- she was 40. The paper the day she graduated had a huge celebratory ad (designed by me) for her accomplishment. She is the best special education teacher and coordinator I've ever met and she is fantastic at her job. My dad was very successful as a contractor and builder, then as a restaurant and antique store owner, and now as a rustic furniture designer and top Visalus person.

My husband and myself attended a year of college but never finished. Both of us jumped right into our chosen arts careers of graphic arts and journalism before our friends had even graduated college, and neither of us suffered from the stress of school loans for more than a few years. The day I paid mine off was a celebratory moment! Both of his parents attended school and are in law enforcement as a detective and sheriff and love their jobs.

Every mother wants their child to have a better education than themselves. Every parent wants their child to succeed. But it is worth having $40,000 to $80,000 in college loans following you the rest of your life? We are going to teach our children if they want to go to school, they have to earn good grades and get a scholarship because we cannot and will not pay for it. It will be a choice they make and follow through with on their own, not because we push them. All we can do is teach them about choices, money, and guide them toward the future using their talents and hope they make the right decisions.