Things I Think About - Not Nice Enough
Well, I'm pulling an insomniac night tonight and decided it was time to do some form of brain dump. I'm not sure I've thoroughly wrapped my head around this topic, but I've definitely been thinking about it for some time now.
2014 was a helluva year. Been a while since I had my ass kicked that hard.
But I used to live there. See, I have this theory that there are two types of intense life events. There's the quick hard hit of change that you have to adapt to and move on. Then there's the big shit. The shit that hits all those magical buttons of chaos and struggle that knock you on your ass six months or longer. Let's call those moments survival moments.
Since I met TJ almost ten years ago now, I've been hit with a few of those survival moments. The problem is I'm kinda PTSD about it. See, from the time my dad's depression cycle kicked off, my family has lived in survival moments. And that's what poverty looks like. Constant struggle from moment to moment. Asking yourself what bill you can sacrifice this month to get by today's hurdle. And when the hits come constant enough, you kinda lose your ability to think long term, let alone relax and breathe. And after a while, you stop believing you'll ever escape for real.
So the first time one of those moments hit TJ and I, I thought the "Gordon curse" was coming to suck me back into desperation, and I would only drag TJ into it with me. Because of all the outside life factors that played the heavy hand in this situation, it took us a long while to come back from that. But after surviving that hit, I did believe that we could recover from most things.
And we've been hit with a few things. But this year, you guys... Pregnant, broken leg, baby, two year old, work license test, audits... family.
It's been a lonely, hard year and hit me in the PTSD trigger. I rode it out so well until August, and then the post partum set in. And I was tired, and I was sad, and I was so so so angry.
And some of that was just a reaction to surviving a big push, one of those survival moments I hadn't been really challenged with in a while, after which is always a come down. And some of that was my dad having a double stroke and now requiring 24 hour care at home, the details of which played out in a complicated way, as always.
And in the midst of all this chaos are two amazing girls. C is becoming more and more of a person every day. I love talking to her and hearing the interesting ideas and connections she comes up with. M is an amazing baby. She is so laid back. She's old enough now that she's demanding because she wants things, and hasn't figured that whole independent movement thing yet. Any day now, and then it's a whole new kind of trouble. But we're watching them play together more and more, and well, little things are just a new kind of fun now.
And the post partum was never focused around my babies. It was this background mood swingy thing I couldn't predict that came out in bursts of anxiety, anger and depression. I started seeing someone in Oct, and there has been so much sorting of so many things that happened all at once, of old, buried triggers that revolve around poverty and babies and abandonment...
I always knew babies would be hard for me. My sister was born at a time when our family found ourselves alone, isolated, with one car, in an unfriendly town, and a dad that worked nights and was otherwise disconnected. It is hard to sit still with a baby and not fight emotional associations.
With C, it was all so new and intimidating, and she was sooooo demanding, that I never really had a chance to evaluate how I actually felt about the whole baby thing these days.
Then with M, she was so easy, so predictable. I mean, this baby _trained herself_ to go to bed at night, and at naptime, at the same time as her sister. She also very clearly let us know when she was done sleeping sitting up. I'm not sure if I'm just too distracted to realize I'm woefully behind on introducing things to her, or if she's just on it anyway.
But after my maternity leave was over, and I had spent a large chunk of it studying, I was tapped out. No reserves left. I was beyond exhausted. I was beyond lonely. I was so overstimulated by all the things happening at the same time.
And I realized... I don't like babies.
There, I said it.
I like kids. From the moment they can talk to me or initiate play, whevs, got this. But babies bore me. They are lovely and sweet tiny helpless people. But it amazes me how they are a vacuum of time consuming lack of accomplishment. And I know it's an investment in a little person who will eventually start telling me off in a way I can understand. But I swear, it's easier for me when I know why they're mad.
And it's dumb, you guys. It's dumb the amount of work I had to do on myself just to be able to do this, to have two sweet girls. I hadn't planned on it. I had bailed on the whole idea long ago.
But then, TJ. And it's not that he made me want babies. He wanted babies. And if we were going to build a life together, that was part of the package. I said I could and would. And all this time, you guys, all this time I've been unpacking all this anger, and fear, and pain, and abandonment. I got through the bulk of it many years ago now.
But this summer was the perfect storm. Pregnant when shit hits the fan. Pushing myself on all fronts for months on end, baby and all. TJ and I were thrown out of sync by all the chaos, with the injury being a huge culprit. My dad had a double stroke this summer, and suddenly mom's availability is limited all the more and there's this whole vanquished hope of dad finally just being in a nursing home and someone else's responsibility after all these wasted years... and just shit.
And suddenly, there's that old anger again. The stuff so repressed it doesn't even know where it belongs anymore. When it gets too intense, I suddenly start talking about all the potential negative things in my life, angry at the world, until suddenly I say something that makes me cry. And I realize that's the thing. That's the real thing.
TJ calls it my emotional throwing food at the wall process. Eventually, something sticks.
And the thing is, most people never see me like this. I hide it. I hide my pain. I hide my vulnerability. So many years such things were a target on my head, and there was no hope, only survival. And there were so many things to survive, so much isolation, so much girl bullying, so much loss and pain and suffering all around.
When I realized it didn't have to be like that... I mean, sure, everybody goes through survival moments. That's life when it plays rough, and wow does it do that sometimes. But most of the time, that's a short time horizon. It's not years or decades.
And I realized that for most people, survival mode is a period in time, not a lifestyle. And I eventually realized that the reason my family couldn't escape that poverty was because my father was playing to lose. And he took us down with him any time it was simply convenient for him. Everything we attempted to build crumbled because of his well placed elbow, or stumble, or outright intentional thoughtlessness. Hope was pointless.
Then eventually realizing our family didn't have to be like that, but were simply marching along with a charlatan while being dutifully nice and loving.... And I couldn't do it.
And I still can't do it. I am so sick of pretend. I am so sick of lies. I am so sick of paranoia and betrayal.
And it's not that those things stop existing in the world, but those moments of bullshit can be temporary. It's only a lifestyle when you live with someone like that in your life. Problem is, that's a lesson I can't ever bring myself to forget.
I'm a huge fan of resolution. I think most things can be resolved by people who care about each other enough to have the hard conversations. But you guys, those apologies where they admit everything and know why it was wrong? Or better yet, try to pretend they just don't remember the details?
That doesn't mean they've changed. It only means they know better.
Sure, they might not act the same way this time around. It's possible that growth and change has occurred. But only time and behavior can prove that. And well, without that decision to try something, anything different this time (which you can't do without identifying the actual problems), it's all just so many words words words...
And, well, I already gave at that office. I just can't anymore. And that's not nice. Okay, then.
2014 was a helluva year. Been a while since I had my ass kicked that hard.
But I used to live there. See, I have this theory that there are two types of intense life events. There's the quick hard hit of change that you have to adapt to and move on. Then there's the big shit. The shit that hits all those magical buttons of chaos and struggle that knock you on your ass six months or longer. Let's call those moments survival moments.
Since I met TJ almost ten years ago now, I've been hit with a few of those survival moments. The problem is I'm kinda PTSD about it. See, from the time my dad's depression cycle kicked off, my family has lived in survival moments. And that's what poverty looks like. Constant struggle from moment to moment. Asking yourself what bill you can sacrifice this month to get by today's hurdle. And when the hits come constant enough, you kinda lose your ability to think long term, let alone relax and breathe. And after a while, you stop believing you'll ever escape for real.
So the first time one of those moments hit TJ and I, I thought the "Gordon curse" was coming to suck me back into desperation, and I would only drag TJ into it with me. Because of all the outside life factors that played the heavy hand in this situation, it took us a long while to come back from that. But after surviving that hit, I did believe that we could recover from most things.
And we've been hit with a few things. But this year, you guys... Pregnant, broken leg, baby, two year old, work license test, audits... family.
It's been a lonely, hard year and hit me in the PTSD trigger. I rode it out so well until August, and then the post partum set in. And I was tired, and I was sad, and I was so so so angry.
And some of that was just a reaction to surviving a big push, one of those survival moments I hadn't been really challenged with in a while, after which is always a come down. And some of that was my dad having a double stroke and now requiring 24 hour care at home, the details of which played out in a complicated way, as always.
And in the midst of all this chaos are two amazing girls. C is becoming more and more of a person every day. I love talking to her and hearing the interesting ideas and connections she comes up with. M is an amazing baby. She is so laid back. She's old enough now that she's demanding because she wants things, and hasn't figured that whole independent movement thing yet. Any day now, and then it's a whole new kind of trouble. But we're watching them play together more and more, and well, little things are just a new kind of fun now.
And the post partum was never focused around my babies. It was this background mood swingy thing I couldn't predict that came out in bursts of anxiety, anger and depression. I started seeing someone in Oct, and there has been so much sorting of so many things that happened all at once, of old, buried triggers that revolve around poverty and babies and abandonment...
I always knew babies would be hard for me. My sister was born at a time when our family found ourselves alone, isolated, with one car, in an unfriendly town, and a dad that worked nights and was otherwise disconnected. It is hard to sit still with a baby and not fight emotional associations.
With C, it was all so new and intimidating, and she was sooooo demanding, that I never really had a chance to evaluate how I actually felt about the whole baby thing these days.
Then with M, she was so easy, so predictable. I mean, this baby _trained herself_ to go to bed at night, and at naptime, at the same time as her sister. She also very clearly let us know when she was done sleeping sitting up. I'm not sure if I'm just too distracted to realize I'm woefully behind on introducing things to her, or if she's just on it anyway.
But after my maternity leave was over, and I had spent a large chunk of it studying, I was tapped out. No reserves left. I was beyond exhausted. I was beyond lonely. I was so overstimulated by all the things happening at the same time.
And I realized... I don't like babies.
There, I said it.
I like kids. From the moment they can talk to me or initiate play, whevs, got this. But babies bore me. They are lovely and sweet tiny helpless people. But it amazes me how they are a vacuum of time consuming lack of accomplishment. And I know it's an investment in a little person who will eventually start telling me off in a way I can understand. But I swear, it's easier for me when I know why they're mad.
And it's dumb, you guys. It's dumb the amount of work I had to do on myself just to be able to do this, to have two sweet girls. I hadn't planned on it. I had bailed on the whole idea long ago.
But then, TJ. And it's not that he made me want babies. He wanted babies. And if we were going to build a life together, that was part of the package. I said I could and would. And all this time, you guys, all this time I've been unpacking all this anger, and fear, and pain, and abandonment. I got through the bulk of it many years ago now.
But this summer was the perfect storm. Pregnant when shit hits the fan. Pushing myself on all fronts for months on end, baby and all. TJ and I were thrown out of sync by all the chaos, with the injury being a huge culprit. My dad had a double stroke this summer, and suddenly mom's availability is limited all the more and there's this whole vanquished hope of dad finally just being in a nursing home and someone else's responsibility after all these wasted years... and just shit.
And suddenly, there's that old anger again. The stuff so repressed it doesn't even know where it belongs anymore. When it gets too intense, I suddenly start talking about all the potential negative things in my life, angry at the world, until suddenly I say something that makes me cry. And I realize that's the thing. That's the real thing.
TJ calls it my emotional throwing food at the wall process. Eventually, something sticks.
And the thing is, most people never see me like this. I hide it. I hide my pain. I hide my vulnerability. So many years such things were a target on my head, and there was no hope, only survival. And there were so many things to survive, so much isolation, so much girl bullying, so much loss and pain and suffering all around.
When I realized it didn't have to be like that... I mean, sure, everybody goes through survival moments. That's life when it plays rough, and wow does it do that sometimes. But most of the time, that's a short time horizon. It's not years or decades.
And I realized that for most people, survival mode is a period in time, not a lifestyle. And I eventually realized that the reason my family couldn't escape that poverty was because my father was playing to lose. And he took us down with him any time it was simply convenient for him. Everything we attempted to build crumbled because of his well placed elbow, or stumble, or outright intentional thoughtlessness. Hope was pointless.
Then eventually realizing our family didn't have to be like that, but were simply marching along with a charlatan while being dutifully nice and loving.... And I couldn't do it.
And I still can't do it. I am so sick of pretend. I am so sick of lies. I am so sick of paranoia and betrayal.
And it's not that those things stop existing in the world, but those moments of bullshit can be temporary. It's only a lifestyle when you live with someone like that in your life. Problem is, that's a lesson I can't ever bring myself to forget.
I'm a huge fan of resolution. I think most things can be resolved by people who care about each other enough to have the hard conversations. But you guys, those apologies where they admit everything and know why it was wrong? Or better yet, try to pretend they just don't remember the details?
That doesn't mean they've changed. It only means they know better.
Sure, they might not act the same way this time around. It's possible that growth and change has occurred. But only time and behavior can prove that. And well, without that decision to try something, anything different this time (which you can't do without identifying the actual problems), it's all just so many words words words...
And, well, I already gave at that office. I just can't anymore. And that's not nice. Okay, then.