Hello, again!

I have not forgotten my commitment to ten thousand hours. I will devote this amount of time to hockey, eventually, but I…well, I’m not all here to be honest.

In earlier posts I had commented about not fully responding to my SSRI medication. It’s pretty difficult to tell, to be honest. I let it get so bad I was having constant nightmares before I finally told my doctor.

If I’m being honest, I kind of blurted it out in an asthma appointment. I didn’t even make one for my medicine.

I finally got on new medication, and it seemed wonderful! I stopped having nightmares, I had energy and motivation, and I even got back into my hobbies! Unfortunately three days later, a reaction set in that caused me severe panic attacks and suicidal thoughts every night.

Me, being responsible, told my husband, gave him my Ruger LCP, and called my doctor.

Surprise! Apparently suicidal thoughts, even as side effects of medicine, are considered crazy.

I now am awaiting a referral to a psychiatrist, because she can’t prescribe me anything else until I’ve seen a psychiatrist. Then, the psychiatrist is the one who has to prescribe me my medicine, so apparently he’s a permanent installation in my life.

Also, for the time being, I’m back on my original medicine that I don’t respond well to. So…nightmares.

So far, I’ve dreamed my kids died, I had to replace a woman’s intestines hanging from her body, and that the government took my kids away. So…there’s that.

Also, I’m gaining weight and drinking like a sot. My husband tells me not to worry about it, especially with everything else going on. I guess he’s right, but I would like to fit into my clothes.

Then there’s the fact I ordered season tickets to the junior hockey league in town, signed a contract, and have yet to be charged. It was a month ago that I signed the contract. I really was wanting to do something big for my husband for his birthday/anniversary this year. We’ve been in a bit of a rough patch considering.

Not to mention that he has to deal with me AND being a first time homeowner. The house was built in 1950, and I’m not sure the plumbing had been updated since. Apparently it’s cracked and leaking, so we already have to put in our first insurance claim. I say we…he actually is the only one bringing in money.

Well. I got way too personal, and way too gabby. I think it’s time to back off for the night. Hopefully I’ll be able to catch up again with my hockey and blog. Until then, pray for my sanity! 🤷🏻‍♀️

I mentioned in the last post about us buying a house. THIS IS HUGE! We were married before I graduated high school, we spent two years living with my mother to assist her before my husband was able to finish his enlistment and Basic Training. Then spent another eight years as a military family. Never settling down.

Once we left my mother’s home, we immediately spent three years in Germany, then another four and a half in central Texas. The last few months of our eighth year, we spent in an apartment during transition leave while my husband trained for his civilian career.

Did I mention we lived in two locations at each country? No? Well we did. So, we’ve moved five times in ten years. My kids probably can’t even tell you where they were born.

We are FINALLY getting to settle down. It has always been our dream to share a little home with a front porch, sit in our rocking chairs, sip coffee at dusk, and watch the sky change colors. AND IT IS HAPPENING…

Well, maybe.

The story of how we found our home, and the problems involved are nothing short of miraculous.

We wanted to buy a home as soon as we were in transition from the Army. We knew we wanted to finally settle wherever we landed, and settling meant buying. It meant permanence and ownership. Unfortunately things didn’t go our way. It was one thing after another until we decided to settle for an apartment to start out.

When our least was three months out, we began our quest to find home. I ran upon a random home for sale on Facebook before we formally began a search, and asked to tour it. This is how we met Cynthia. We had plans on using another realtor, but with our first meeting, Cynthia was perfect! It’s as if she was sent to us.

Then, when she guided us to her website, we began browsing. We added a few homes here and there. We weren’t amazed by anything. We actually let some of our choices fall off the market before we finally decided it was now or never.

We took the plunge. We applied for pre-approval on a VA loan.

While we were still in talks with the mortgage company over paperwork and details, I was basically sent a message from God. Not even joking.

Lying in bed one night, I was thinking about houses. None of them seemed perfect for us. We are a large family, so we need several bedrooms. My husband wanted a shop. My kids wanted a yard. We needed space. Nothing felt right.

Suddenly, I just felt something pushing me towards one house in particular. God was telling me to look again.

I groaned. I had seen this house over and over on the website, but it never made my list. Not even once. It just didn’t “wow” me. I begrudgingly logged onto the site and checked out the house again, regardless.

Oh. My. Word. It’s as if I was seeing a different house! How had I not realized how perfect it was before?

It was a 1950 build, which I loved. I love older houses. It had four bedrooms, original hardwood, two living areas, a separate dining room, a shop and garage, front and back fenced yard, and was in our budget!

The very next week, we were pre-approved!

We added that very house to our finalists, and toured the final four soon after.

Sure, the house needed a little work. Refinished floors, some new cabinets, etc. It was worth it for the absolute feeling of “home” we got as soon as we walked through the door. This was God’s placement for us. It just was.

We put in an offer, the offer was approved the next business day, and we were on our way to home ownership!

Then things took a turn for the worse.

Unfortunately, during the inspection, several issues were found. Then, due to owner error, the inspection couldn’t even be finished.

We’re almost through our option period, and there’s still so much to do. We have to finish the inspection, contact insurance, go through an assessment, and deal with repairs before renegotiating and closing.

We were so nervous about how everything will turn out, but then I was reminded of how I found the house. God sent me to this house, and he will get me into this house. If He brings you to it, He’ll bring you through it.

I have prayed, and I feel much better about it all. We will be finding out soon how things will be going, and I’m sure it’s going to be nothing short of miraculous.

I’ve been gone a while again.

This have been crazy, as always. This time I became sick with bronchitis, we’ve come under contract for a home, we got my son into a lottery for a magnet school, and we’ve been planning a vacation to Disney.

Aside from the illness, this is the good crazy. This is the happy crazy. This is the whirlwind of blessings. This is from mountaintop to mountaintop. This is exactly what I intended with my word for 2020: future. We’re building a life and a future. We’re creating memories.

So why do I feel so down?

The truth is, it’s my chemical imbalance. Nothing more. Nothing less. I know this, and I know I’m being irrational, but it doesn’t stop the pain.

I’ve been told that all depressive episodes have a trigger. Maybe they do. Maybe the good and excitement has given me adrenal fatigue. Who knows? All I know is I don’t have a specific reason to feel this way, but here we are.

So today I took a mental health day. Sort of.

I am still a stay at home mom, so I can’t run off to the nearest theme park like some moms, but I have taken life in stride today.

First off, I let myself sleep later. Even when I heard the kids in the cabinet, I lay there until I felt like getting up.

I haven’t done an ounce of housework; and, unlike other lazy days, I haven’t let myself feel guilty about it. I let my kids pick up the floor and left the rest for tomorrow.

I crafted, letting myself create something with my hands. I ate junk like cereal and grilled cheeses. I’ve survived strictly on warm coffee. Tonight, I’m making a frozen meal for dinner. I’m going to read, enjoy a cup of tea, take a hot bath, and watch a movie with my boys. That’s it.

It isn’t going to solve my chemical imbalance. It may not make me thankful I’ve woken up today. It may not make me feel joy, but it gives me a break. It is a way for me to show myself that I’m worthy of a break. I don’t have to fight all the time. I don’t have to take the stress of life upon my shoulders every single day. It’s ok to give in to the battle every once and a while to rest.

We’ll pick up the fight again tomorrow.

Okay. I am back on my meds. I wasn’t off long enough to completely get it out of my system, so once the withdrawal symptoms stopped I was pretty normal. This does not mean neurotypical, which I found out today.

I normally function fairly well on my meds. Some days are worse, and I kind of think I may be building immunity to lexapro, but I’m mostly okay. I apparently don’t function well enough to take three children to a crowded area alone.

As some of you know, I do mother-son-days every weekend. First of the month for my oldest, second weekend for my middle, third for the baby, and on the fourth I take a rest with my hubby and a movie. If there is a magical fifth weekend, I normally go out alone for some self care.

Well, I was sick on the first weekend, so my eldest traded with the baby. I took baby to go shopping and get a toy, because that’s all I felt like doing.

The second weekend didn’t turn out either. My husband had to coach a game on Saturday, and by Sunday my withdrawal migraine was insane.

The two older boys wanted to go to the same place anyway, so I told them since I had been sick we would all three go together. Easy enough.

Day of: hubby is invited to watch the playoffs at a friends house. We had all planned to go after I took the kids out, but they have a cat. I am super allergic to cats. Like, hospital admission allergic. Then, we got dressed late. So, here I am with all three boys heading to Altitude trampoline park alone. Help.

There were three birthday parties, a fourth coming in, and about a million non-party customers. I immediately got cranky and anxious. I threatened to make them leave three times before we signed the waivers. It was bad.

At first I made them all stay together with me, but the baby was crying when he couldn’t do the big stuff. We went back to the baby area, and of course my older kids wanted nothing to do with it. Story of my life.

I eventually forced my middle child to stay in the baby area with the baby and me while my oldest went to do some big kid stuff. It was so crowded, however, I kept losing sight of him in the crowd. Once I couldn’t see him for a solid minute, and nearly had them shut the place down. I was a half second from flipping my shit before I saw him crawling from the foam pit, laughing.

We did end up having a lot of fun together! The boys all showed me their most daring moves, we laughed hard, and we hopefully made some lasting memories! In the end, I bribed them to leave halfway through our hour with the promise of happy meals and cupcakes. My poor nerves just couldn’t take the anxiety any longer.

The mental load alone absolutely drained me. I fell asleep once we were home again. I still wasn’t rebooted by the time my husband got home. He listened to my horror story and let me take a long, hot shower before bed, though. I am feeling better, but it’s not likely something I’ll do again any time soon.

I went to bed last night sure that my epiphany created some sort of magic around my life. If I just gave myself a little more love and attention, life would just breeze by. I had the power and ability to do anything! Everything!

Then I woke up.

I very quickly realized that it would be very different in real life.

First of all, my medicine ran out a week ago, and we still don’t have insurance cards. They’ve sent them three times, but for some reason they keep using the wrong address, so they’ve been sent back THREE TIMES! I’m in withdrawals, I’ve had a headache for five days, I’m moody, and today I woke up shaky with tremors.

Nothing on my to-do list got done. Including my self-care.

Then things got worse. My toddler poured out two cold teas, a hot tea, an entire box of junk on the table, a bowl of soup, a bottle of water, and two plates of noodles. I’ve spent all day running after him. All day. Add to that the dog puking the floor, the other dog pooping the floor, missing my son’s first skate school, and cutting my finger open during dinner prep and you’ve got all the makings for a horrible day. And I try not to say “bad day”, because (let’s be honest) it’s usually a bad few minutes that people focus on all day. Today, however, I’m breaking my rule. It was a horrible, no good day.

I broke my diet and ate my feelings. I had a huge bowl of cereal, part of my son’s cake, and two glasses of moscato d’asti. I still didn’t feel any better, so I tried a nice soak in a hot bath with my last bath bomb from Christmas. I still feel like shit.

I know most of it is my medicine- or lack there of- making me a little hazy, but some of it is still my inability to move past survival mode.

It’s going to take practice and becoming more intentional to even get to a place where I can begin growing in self-love. I’m that far off base, guys.

Hopefully, starting tomorrow, I can slowly begin instituting a few steps to really plant my feet. First off would be making lists. I won’t be flying by the seat of my pants anymore, so I’ll need to know what to do and when to do it. I have a to-do list set up with tomorrow’s agenda. Mostly housework I’ve fallen behind on trying to do everything at once.

Also, I’m making a list of emotional needs for my husband. If he’s going to be home from now on, there’s not going to be periods of distance, reuniting, and falling stale like there have been in the past. If we’re not intentional in our marriage, we’ll just remain stale. Also, if I’m not obsessed with appreciating every last second with him before he inevitably leaves again, I can finally focus on myself and what I would like to gain or return to in our marriage. Though, I will always appreciate the time I have with him, it doesn’t necessarily need to be the whole of my attention anymore.

Another item I will be initiating is a routine. This will take some practice, as I’m the worst with routines. I love to wake up whenever, do whatever I feel needs to be done, and then go to bed when we’re all done. Hopefully starting with a loose routine and a working waking and bed time helps move me towards a more balanced lifestyle. If I’m budgeting the hours of my day, I’m more likely to give a little time to myself. Then I won’t be sneaking off for a late night bath to try and chill out when I should be sleeping.

Hopefully, with a little practice, I can become the type of person I feel that I am inside. I can grow into my purpose and plant my feet in west Texas. I can rediscover myself and fall in love with myself. It’s possible, but it’s going to take a lot of practice.

I’ve been seeing people choose one word to motivate and represent them in 2020. It’s a nice thought, after all. They have one mantra to work towards throughout the entire year, and it’s vague enough that even changing of plans and broken resolutions can still lead to building on this word. Is this the new resolution? Maybe.

Given the task of actually choosing a word for myself, however, left me feeling nauseous. Am I really that out of touch with myself that I can’t choose one word I would like to build on for a meager 365 days?

I spent the entire day thinking of words. I’ve injured myself twice this week, (and it’s Monday) so “safety” sounded pretty on the nose. My husband and I are on separate journeys to fitness, so “health” may be a good choice. I’ve struggled desperately with my mental health last year, should “joy” be my word? I have finished all of about three things I set my attention to last year, maybe “finish” should bring me through the year.

In the end, none of them really resonated with me. Then I realized, most of my issues are because of the way I treat myself.

I’ve spent years and years jumping from this place to that, never knowing when my life would be uprooted again, always bunkered down for that inevitable time I would be alone for however long. I’ve neglected my healthcare, my mental health, my purpose in life, my beauty routine, my sleep, myself. I’ve neglected every part of myself to be the rock for my family during our time in the military- to be able to smile and tell my kids and husband that everything and everyone was okay even when we were on the brink of disaster. I had to, then. I don’t now.

My husband now works a 9-5 job. It might not be exactly Monday through Friday once training is over, but he is home for dinner every night. We will have permanent placement in a matter of months, and we will be buying a home and settling down for the first time in our marriage. As long as he doesn’t royally screw up in some way, he should have a pretty comfortable job in the same location for the next thirty-odd years. I never imagined this life for us. I can breathe. I can settle. I don’t have to be in survival mode nonstop.

Tears are flowing while typing this. Just the realization of the absolute weight off my shoulders is astounding. I honestly don’t even know who I am anymore, and I feel like no one has noticed me fading.

Well, that’s not entirely true. My son has noticed. In the months since we transitioned out of the military, he has seen me struggle to leave survival mode. He helps out more around the house and reminds me that I need rest, too. He is such a beautiful soul. I would give him the moon if I could.

Regardless, I noticed that all my faults and failures could grandly be traced back to this one issue. Even struggling to add time to my ten thousand hours goal was due to a lack of self-interest.

With this realization, I was able to choose my word for 2020: “Future”. I’m not having to scramble to keep up with the ever-changing demands of being a military spouse- which I wasn’t good at, anyway. This means I am able to plant my feet on the ground and spread roots. I can find my purpose. I can take time for myself. I can find what makes me happy and do that thing- whatever it is! I can get involved, make friends, be a “regular” somewhere!

The pottery place called me a “regular” last week and I nearly cried. I’m a “regular!” I can get one of those punch cards from somewhere and actually fill it up! I can have a “usual” order at restaurants!

I can look to the future, instead of surviving the present. I can devote time and self-interest into my own future. This future. Here. With these people. In this town. My own future.

I’ve begun having nightmares about this reunion. I wish I were joking, but high school was that bad to me.

In my nightmare, I went in trying to prove that my young marriage was not a mistake. Everything went wrong when my mother had to tag along and my husband began flirting with a doctor from his graduating class.

I know why I dreamed it. Most of the rumors about me during high school involved my relationship with my husband. Ironically, most were started by soon-to-be in-laws.

They varied from infidelity to sexually transmitted infections and beyond, but most of them were involving our relationship. Then, once we got married, the rumors shifted to how I was throwing my life away.

I was meant to be a doctor, or a lawyer, or a scientist. I was smart. Not top of my class, but given more effort I could have been close. I was organized and clever. I had all the makings of greatness, but I married instead of continuing my education. That, somehow, meant failure.

I told myself I could still go to college. People do it all the time. And I really could have, but even without being married so early, I felt myself being pulled in another direction.

School was horrible. Why would I want to extend it? I tried online classes, but I refused to step foot into a classroom.

In the end, we had a family early and I chose to stay home with the kids. I told myself once they start school I would try again, but it was so long between kids that we now have a fifteen month old at 28 years old.

I’ve pretty much given up on higher education. We’ve started homeschooling due to our lack of faith in American public schools. I have hobbies and dreams outside of college- like this 10,000 hour project.

I had so many expectations on my shoulders that I do regularly feel like a failure for choosing this life. I’ve tried MLM jobs and odd crafts for make myself feel better- like any other working mom. They made me feel worse about myself.

So, I sit, wallow in depression, and secretly long for someone to tell me I’ve succeeded. That I have made the right choice. That I’m making a difference. That my life still means something even though I made choices no one wished for me.

This reunion brings up all these memories of hurt and pain while also bubbling my insecurities to the surface that I’ve managed to keep buried for years.

I don’t even care what they all think of me. It’s me against me right now. It’s memories that never got resolved and insecurities I can no longer fight. All of which started with this group of people I have to face again in a matter of months. It’s my existential nightmare.

I know I haven’t written in a while…again. Honestly, I was waiting to see if anything else got erased. My first two posts were erased after 30 days, and I wasn’t sure if it was just because they were introductory posts, or if all posts are erased after 30 days. Thankfully, it was just those two, or else that would be absolute bullshit.

I haven’t done much studying in the meantime. It’s been wild. Between homeschooling, my husband’s coaching schedule, Christmas travel, and general family drama, I have been DRAINED.

I did promise to write about the Stars game we went to- pre-Montgomery termination. Yikes.

It’s a five hour trip to Dallas from where we live. In that five hours, one dog puked the car and the other one shit the car. It was everywhere. While I cleaned poo from the kids, my husband cleaned my floorboard and our luggage. He puked in the middle of the interstate where we pulled off. It was a mess. Then, my poor, sweet, sensitive-stomached toddler puked up Red Vines on the family in front of us during the third period. Then, we still had to walk back to the hotel and wash the dogs in the hotel sink. What’s worse??? WE LOST! To the Blues. AGAIN!!! I have a personal vendetta against the blues. Ugh.

Anyways, so that’s the story of our first regular season game.

Since then, we’ve battled the flu together, welcomed the new year, posted plenty of WWIII memes, and are now planning for my husband’s 10 year high school reunion.

I hated high school. Like, actually hated. I was bullied and didn’t fit in. There were arguments, fights, rumors, the worst. Then, when I got married my senior year, even the teachers and staff joined in the fun of gossiping about me. Needless to say, I’m not looking forward to this reunion. And it’s not even my class.

Hubby has made it abundantly clear that it’s not necessary for me to go, but I also don’t want him to have to go alone. I have reluctantly agreed to go, but now have this complex of needing to seem perfect. It’s absolutely crazy.

I spent my dōTERRA loyalty reward order on Slim and Sassy this month. I’ve been googling yoga workouts and different weight loss exercises. I have even ordered special seasoning that is supposed to help cover the taste of bland diet foods. I have also purchased a name-brand dress for the occasion, and have been window shopping for purses and shoes. I’ve even considered getting a manicure, which I haven’t had since I was actually in high school. It’s a sickness.

My anxiety is killing me, and I’m just praying I’m not going to try to back out at the last minute. I have been told there’s an open bar, so…incentives and such.

Aside from the complex I’ve gained, I’m also falling for the whole “new year, new me” of the changing decade. I promised I wouldn’t, as I never keep any resolutions, but I want to be more than I am. I am so stressed as a stay at home mom. Aside from becoming an expert in hockey, I also have a separate bucket list I would like to see accomplished. Then there’s this overwhelming desire to do something meaningful with my life. It’s all very vague.

So, that’s life in 2020. Hopefully there’s more entertaining posts to come.

I promise I have not fallen off the wagon, but this is a very good example as to why I normally do. Things are crazy in my life.

Yes, I’m a stay at home mom. You would think I have plenty of time to study hockey. You’d think wrong. Yes, I do have more “free” time than working moms I suppose, but nothing can take my full attention. I wind up being interrupted with kids, and to-do lists, and minor emergencies, and flying balls, and fights, and random stories about what the FGTeeV kids did in the pool today. The interruptions get worse whenever the tiny army sees that I’m busy.

Since I’ve started writing this, they’ve needed 3 hugs, a rundown of tomorrow’s schedule, and for me to button a pair of pants.

My husband’s mental health has also come into play. He’s on the uptick now, but there were several weeks lately when he was triggered and extremely mentally unstable.

And, if you didn’t see this coming get a new pair of glasses, because it’s nearing Christmas!!! I’ve been shopping, and wrapping, and keeping up with packages from family coming. I spent three days making decorated sugar cookies for my apartment managers. We’ve had theme nights and traditions. Not to mention that stupid elf I have to move every night.

I am doing a little reading now and again. Not as much as I should be! The most I’ve gotten done this much was on the drive out to the game we went to. It has been such a wild month that I can’t even remember if I wrote about the game we went to! If I haven’t, I will try to soon.

Regardless. I wish you and yours a merry Christmas. I hope your holidays are quieter than ours.

Did you know that I should never become an expert in anything?!?!

I’m super annoying. Just from what I’ve studied in the past month, I’ve found myself constantly blurting out trivia no one asked for. I’m a terrible person.

We watched the Stars game last night.

On a separate note, it was one of the first games I’ve felt like paying attention to in a long while. I am so glad I felt like watching, because it was AMAZING! Winning in the shootout after Dobby makes the save of the season!!!! So good.

Anyway, back to my point. The whole game it was “did you know…?” I’m not sure how my husband put up with it.

Actually, yes I do. My husband is a wonderful person who is impressed when people have knowledge of their chosen subject, and enjoys hearing the shared knowledge of that person. He was pretty amused last night.

I’ve got a little over an hour of my ten thousand hours in, and I fear for those around me as my time increases. Pray for them. I’m annoying.