I’m still here.
I’m still here.
I know I’m supposed to gain weight. I know that it’s to be expected. I’m pregnant. I get it.
But I’m struggling with body image a LOT. I’ve always been a small girl. I’m 5’2 and petite. I’ve always been under 100lbs, or just at 100.
I’m 124 now. My trusted and true comfy jeans don’t fit me anymore as of this morning. They won’t come over my thighs.
I wanted so badly to be the goddess mama that embraces her curves and fertility. And while I love being able to create and sustain life, I’m struggling to get dressed in the morning and look in the mirror. I struggle when people hold eye contact with me for more than 2 seconds because I just know they’re looking at the weight I’ve gained in my face, or the dark circles beneath my eyes.
My self confidence is plummeting.
I remember the first time I ever thought, “I want to kill my self.”
I was twelve. I was alone in the house with my abuser. He was thirty-eight.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he slid his hand under my shirt. He commented on how he loved that I didn’t need a training bra yet. I was beginning to feel the disconnect. Each time something like this happened, the dissociation would happen quicker and more intensely.
He told me to take my shirt off. I was wearing a black, silky spaghetti shirt. (Sometimes I wonder if it was my fault because of what I was wearing that day)
I pulled my shirt off and he grabbed it from me, tossing it to the floor. He stood back for a moment, looked at me, stared at my chest. “You have perfect little tits.”
He proceeded to grope me, taking fistfuls of my into his hands. “You only need a handful.”
With his mouth running along my chest and neck, he forced my hand down to “feel what I was doing to him.”
And I thought then that it would be easier to kill myself. It would be easier and safer to kill myself.
I’m undecided if this is just pregnancy hormones I’m experiencing, or true blue depression rearing its head. Probably both.
I’m incredibly stressed, though I’m trying hard to breathe through it- mostly for baby.
Without going into too many details, not only are we moving houses right now, and prepping for a baby, but two days ago it became official that we are moving across the country right after baby is born.
I’m trying to process everything at once. I feel like things are piling on top of my chest. I’m exhausted, I cry at the drop of a dime. I’m scared, anxious. Trying to be optimistic and push through this hard part.
The thought of leaving the only place I’ve ever known triggers major unsettling feelings. I mean, it’s hard enough moving towns. You wouldn’t guess it since I’ve moved well over 20 times in my life.
I’m feeling kind of panicky. I’m feeling so drained. I need to stay well rested and healthy and stable right now.
A part of me wonders if I should talk to my doctor about the possibility of looking into meds to help in the near future. I don’t want to set myself up for failure, but I am significantly worried about my risk for post-partum depression. With all this change going on, I don’t know how well I’ll be able to hold it together.
Especially in January. January is always so hard for me
So much to think about. I’m just trying to stay afloat.
Meanwhile, I’ve been feeling the beginning flutters from baby. Knowing I’m not alone and that someone is depending on me helps. And they are so sweet! I’ve been waiting years and years for those kicks and flutters ❤
I already feel the shift of motherhood.
I feel an intense urge to protect my small family, which includes myself. I have a very low tolerance for bullshit surrounding me. It is my responsibility now to to sift through the things that are actually needed in my life, and those that are wasteful. That includes physical possessions, relationships and connections, and useless worries.
(Maybe this is the nesting phase that I’ve heard so much about at the very start of the second trimester! Which would come in handy because we have about 25 days to pack and move!)
I’m really loving the maternal instinct that’s kicking in. It’s very empowering. I mean, I’m making a HUMAN. From scratch.
My focus is shifting from the maiden perspective to mother. Where once my interests were in going out to get drunk, indulge in self-destructive activities, and overall just being “my age,” I find that now I am constantly finding ways in my everyday life to better myself as a significant other, as a mother, and as a person in whole.
I’ve always felt the “feminine divine” within me, but it seems to really be multiplying with each day that passes. My growing bump serves as a wonderful reminder of my resilient and loving nature. I’m so excited to delve into motherhood even more and unfold my true power!
Although I do have to say, I do miss the taste of my favorite IPA. But I’ll just have to wait.
I’ve been gone from my L&L blog for a few months it seems. Life has caught up with me and has shaken me up- in the BEST and worst ways. I still read your posts, still flip through your updates.
[[ Journal for Damned Lovers, I’m still addicted to your writings. Manyofus, I hope you’re doing okay. You will get through this rough patch! ]]
I just haven’t found time, nor motivation, to really write anything. Even my poetry blog is dusty! But here I am now to bring you the most recent and drastic changes in my life– if you care to read about them.
Hmm.. anything else…
OH YEAH! I’m pregnant!
I found out Mother’s Day. I wasn’t expecting it at ALL. We were on birth control, in no way were we planning on having a baby any time soon. We’ve talked about waiting 2-3 years first before trying. But lo and behold, I am currently 11 weeks pregnant.
The first 6 weeks were rough in terms of not knowing what the hell to do. My boyfriend and I have really only been together for 7 months or so. He’s never wanted kids before. I was flip-flopping between terminating the pregnancy because of various reasons- financial doubts, I didn’t want my baby to have a father who wasn’t fully in board, I’m young, etc.
My first ultrasound confirmed my desire to be a mother. We saw the heartbeat for the first time and I was smitten. (He thought it looked like a salamander, but he’s coming around to it haha)
How drastic things have changed. I am an emotional roller coaster, swinging through happiness, excitement, fear, doubt…. after suffering through multiple miscarriages in the past, I was terrified of losing this one. But the doctor says everything looks perfect and healthy. Finally.
My boyfriend is an amazing human being. Since we found out, he’s been reassuring me that whatever I decided, he would be there 100%. And he has been. He is so incredibly supportive and I appreciate him for that.
Still, life’s responsibilities are weighing on me. They are only growing larger, as am I! My jeans officially don’t fit me anymore. Although my morning sickness and exhaustion are disappearing more and more as I approach my second trimester.
I am one stressed mama. There are MANY days I wish I could crawl next to my girlfriend, or I guess ex :/, and just talk to her. I know it’s not fair to even ask her to be in board with all of this. But she’s been my person for so long.
So, there it is, WordPress. Major life changes.
Nothing is the same.
Sometimes, just sometimes, I still get that inexplicable urge to runaway to a far-off hotel room and OD on some heavy duty meds and just leave. Start over. Let myself go so that I’m not making anyone else’s life harder or my own.
Just sometimes, though.
I’m stressed out. On one hand, things are going well because I have a new job. I start in one week as a behavioral therapist in training. I’m leaving my current full-time job of 6 years and I am taking a great leap of faith. Holy shit. I’ll be working with cute little kiddos.
Things are changing. I’m turning 25 in a couple weeks and that’s also kind of stressing me out.
I want to travel. I want an intense experience and meet people, and find myself in a little bar in Mexico shooting tequila with tourists, I want to wake up before the sun somewhere in India and pray with other devotees. I know this is all very “dreamy” but still. I need to experience things.
AHHHHH I just feel so much 😥 There are so many feelings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It’s raining today like it was January 19th of last year when I got out of the hospital for my 5150. I couldn’t help but cry in the shower this morning, feeling overwhelmed at the changes in my life- for the better, but still. How different things are now.
This day last year, I couldn’t feel anything. I had no emotion left inside of me. I could harness no gratitude for life. I remember getting home and showering… nothing felt real to me anymore. I was only in the hospital for a few days. Maybe it was purely trauma from attempting suicide that made my brain kind of shut off.
This day last year, I was completely apathetic and empty. I was laying on my bed staring at the carpet wondering if I had actually died. The only thing I could think of doing was going to a bar and drinking; maybe then I would be able to feel. They had taken away my benzo stash. I dug around my drawers and closet looking for leftover Ativan, Hydrocodone… anything. Nothing.
This day last year, I was released back into the real world and I was scared of leaving the confinements of the hospital because I didn’t feel ready to live. (However, it was better to be out and have free will than it was to be trapped like animal, drugged and shuffled in and out of group meetings.)
This day last year, I desperately called my ex-dealer for heroin.
Everything is different now. I have a great life. My relationship(s) are going so well, they make me incredibly happy. I feel that I’m moving forward- despite my normal career anxiety, financial worry, etc. But overall, I’m safe and happy. I’m in SUCH a different place.
So, why do I feel guilty for it?
I got what I wanted, but I still sometimes feel like I don’t deserve it. I feel selfish for surviving.
I feel guilty.
I feel guilty about having a dissociative disorder because the more I think about it, the more I think that nothing THAT terrible has happened to me. So I can only conclude that I am a whiny fucking baby and I have just been unable to confront minor every day life struggles.
Is incest a normal every day life struggle?
Maybe I’ve just blown everything out of proportion. My father’s suicide, my mother running out on me, the molestation, the child pornography, the rape in college, the suicide attempts, the drug binging.
I really don’t have anything to complain about, or be “broken by”- I made it out alive and there are others with actual, real issues. Yet, here I am, continuing to self-harm because I blame myself for my parents leaving, for my cousin sticking himself in me, for allowing myself to be raped and abused.
Whiny, selfish, dramatic, stupid, and worthless waste of space.