Friday, June 14, 2013


Because I’m a mom…and I love being one, I thought I’d write about that today.

That’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.  I never wanted kids…and now I have no idea what I did before kids.  Oh, yeah.  I drank.
Because I’m a mom…I quit drinking.  I am grateful.  I can’t say I don’t crave alcohol once in a while – or every day.  Being a mom is not easy.  But I haven’t caved in, and I think I’ve managed to keep a little of my sanity thus far while raising these kids.

Because I’m a mom…I love doing stuff with the girls that I used to do when I was little.  We dance in the rain in bathing suits.  That’s one of my fondest childhood memories.  I’ve always loved the rain.  Maybe that’s why.  I’m just glad I have a mom who let us do things like that.  Of course, things in general are much different today than they were when I was growing up.  Entertainment and toys in the 80s were much more primitive than the hand-held video game devices of today.  I often miss the simplicity and sometimes cheesy childhood staples I grew up with.  I think my kids are having a pretty good childhood, though…sometimes the technology just overwhelms me.  That’s when I attempt to break out a toy or TV show from the 80s to show my kids how awesome everything was.  I’m not sure that they get that impressed.

Because I’m a mom…I marvel at all the funny, crazy things my kids say…I don’t know where they get it.  Although they seem to be entering a stage which causes me to yell more, they’re usually making me laugh.  I never know what they’ll do or say.  And even though it’s great to get a break from them, I always miss them so much when they’re gone.  I never understood when parents said that…before I had children.

Because I’m a mom…I just watched The Lion King.  It’s fun to watch movies with my girls now.  It wasn’t so fun when they were younger, as their attention spans were non-existent.  Now I like hearing their commentary when we watch something.  One thing I never did until I had kids was cry at the drop of a hat.  That started as soon as I was pregnant with Adele, and it hasn’t stopped.  I cried while watching The Lion King; that whole circle of life thing gets to me.  It’s not necessarily because I’m sad…it’s more of a happy cry…if that makes sense.  I just see everything with a whole different perspective now that I have kids.  I used to get so annoyed when moms would talk about motherhood.  It bored the hell out of me.  I just wanted to get drunk and dance on the bar.  Not sit around talking about what everyone’s kids did or said.  I still would prefer to talk about a variety of other topics other than our kids when I get together with friends, but I understand now why moms do talk a lot about their offspring.  

Because I’m a mom…my kids are a huge part of my life…in a way, an accomplishment…a challenge sometimes…a headache often…a test of patience…but my everything.  The most worthwhile thing I’ve ever done.  It helps to compare notes with other moms, too, to realize you’re not the Worst Mom on the Planet, that other moms feel the things you’re feeling and go through the same emotions you’re going through.  That’s reassuring.  

Because I’m a mom…it kills me when my kids are hurt or crying.  I want to take all their pain away, stop the tears.  It’s like when they’re in pain, I’m in pain, too.  I want to see them smile.  So I bandage skinned knees and soothe hurt feelings and do my best to make them happy again.  

Because I’m a mom…I am now very glad I got pregnant when I did…it was unexpected, but a blessing…and I had two healthy kids.  I vividly remember the birth of both of my baby girls as if it were yesterday.  I’ve never been more awestruck or happy.  I still look at them and can’t believe I created these beautiful creatures.  I felt my heart grow when I had Eleanor, to make room for her, even though I had been worried I could never love another human being like I loved Adele.  When I hear, little voices say, “I love you, Mommy!”  or I get a colored drawing full of hearts, I feel warm and fuzzy from head to toe.  I can’t believe how fast they’re growing up, and I can do nothing to pause time.  There are lots of times that I feel like I want another baby…Andy and I are both cystic fibrosis carriers, though, so it scares us to try.  It’s like we don’t want to push our luck.  As much as I long for one more, we probably won’t have any more.  I just try to love and appreciate the two that I have as much as I can.  Plus, when they’re both being awful, I feel like I definitely don’t want any more!  I just wonder if every mom feels that way sometimes…like you want another baby.  Maybe after you’ve had one, that want for more just never fully goes away.  I don’t know.  All I know is, I love my kids more than anything. Thank you, Adele and Eleanor, for making me laugh, loving me no matter what, even when I feel that I don’t deserve anyone’s love, and for making my world complete.

Because I love you both to the moon and back, and I love being your mom.

1 comment
Friday, June 7, 2013

Love is Equal Rights


“It takes no compromising to give people their rights. It takes no money to respect the individual. It takes no survey to remove repressions.”  - Harvey Milk


President Bill Clinton declared June “Gay & Lesbian Pride Month” on June 2, 2000.  Barack Obama subsequently declared June Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Pride Month.  
I had the opportunity to attend the Columbus, Ohio, Pride Festival a few years ago, and it was an experience unlike any other.  I have long been a supporter of equal rights, but to be surrounded in an atmosphere so full of love and hope as was the case at Pride is only something you’d really have to experience to fully understand and appreciate.

I’ve never understood why so many people feel the need to discriminate against other human beings for simply being who they are.  Especially after attending the Pride Festival…I was even more baffled.  It was just one huge gathering of people, all supporting the same cause – to have equal rights in the eyes of the government.  It shouldn’t even be up for debate.  It’s no different than how this country has discriminated against those of a different skin color.  It’s ludicrous.  

It’s wrong.

Every time this issue is brought up, the only defense (or the main one, at least) is the Bible.  Guess what?  We have freedom of religion.  If I’m a Buddhist, an atheist, or any number of the myriad of religions out there, your Bible doesn’t mean a thing to me.  All people want is the same rights as everyone else.  I don’t see what’s so hard about that.

It also seems to me that the majority of people I encounter who are against equal rights have never met a gay person.  Well, guess what?  You have.  Probably lots of them.  And whether you realize their sexual orientation or not, you probably even like them.  So why would you feel that your friend Bob shouldn’t be entitled to the same exact rights as you?  Is he less of a person?  And suppose being in love with someone of the same sex were a sin…should people’s rights be denied to them because they sin differently than you?  I don’t believe it is a sin, but this is where political leaders always return.  Just because you don’t agree with someone, does that mean they shouldn’t have the same rights?  I hate guns.  Hate them.  But I’m not trying to take yours away.

 This is the issue that I definitely feel the most passionate about.  I have so many gay friends and I love them all dearly.  I just cannot understand the thinking behind wanting to deny them any of the rights I have simply because I am attracted to men.  I can’t imagine going through life scared to be who I really am…scared to let my parents know, my friends know…terrified of what anyone would think of the real me.  These people are brave.  But they shouldn’t have to be.  We should not exist in a society in which people are shamed because they love who they love.

Yes, I’m familiar with all the counter-arguments here, and I’m not about to entertain them all.  Frankly, it becomes exhausting, as I find answering these rebuttals about as effective as explaining to my four-year-old why she can’t eat marshmallows for every meal.  It’s often like reasoning with individuals whose sense of logic has either not developed or it’s been permanently removed.  And if I sound angry, it’s because I am.

This issue makes me angry…and sad.  Because so many of the people I love are part of the larger group as a whole who are subjected to discrimination on a daily basis.
I want to try to help end that. 

More and more states are granting same-sex couples the right to marry, and this excites me.  Each new state is a victory.  Of course, I’ll be happier when every state grants that right…but I do think we’re making progress.

According to the Human Rights Campaign, there are 1,138 benefits, rights, and protections provided on the basis of marital status in federal law.  Same-sex couples are not considered spouses for purposes of federal law.  You can look at the HRC webpage for a more detailed list of the rights gay couples are denied – there are too many to list here. 

 There are 29 states in which a person can be fired from a job – for being gay.

This puts knots in my stomach.

The more people who stand up for their rights and stand up for this cause, the more likely other people’s eyes might be opened.  I want my kids to live in a world that is accepting and appreciative of all kinds of people, not only people who happen to be just like them.  I want to live in a world in which hate crimes don’t exist.  Where there are no more kids afraid to “come out” because of how society will react.  We are society.  And we can collectively decide to teach our kids to not just be tolerant, which is a start, but to accept.  To love.  If you wouldn’t want your children discriminated against, and I hope you wouldn’t, then this should follow for anyone’s kids.  For anyone, period.  We learn The Golden Rule in kindergarten, and then slowly distance ourselves from it as the years pass.  Let’s find our way back to it.

Friends, I love you.



leave a comment
Friday, May 31, 2013

Riding out Depression


Lately I’ve been up and down, up and down…being bipolar is awesome.  I hate it.

Seriously, though, I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone.  I’m still working on getting my meds adjusted…it’s a long process.
I’ve been forcing myself to leave the house even though I don’t want to sometimes…at all.  Once I do get out and go for a bike ride or visit a friend, I do feel better.  It’s just the matter of getting out of the house that’s so hard.

Sunny days don’t do it for me…as I’ve said before, if I’m depressed, the sun is just more pressure to be happy.  A good, long thunderstorm is my favorite summer weather.  I just feel more…balanced.

When I’ve been “up” lately it hasn’t been to the point of mania…which is when I do my best writing.  I just feel like I’m out of fuel or something.  It’s frustrating.  I want to be inspired, and full of creativity and energy.  But right now everything I do is a struggle.
I am better than I was in my long, deep depression…right now I still have depressed days…but they don’t seem to linger forever in a row like they were.  Like I said, it’s a long process.

I still cry really easily right now, so I know I’m not there yet…when I’m in a pretty good mood, that doesn’t happen.  But I’ve been so emotional lately…sometimes I just desperately want to trade bodies with someone else, someone who’s well-balanced, just to see what that feels like…

I am finding that the more I write and talk about this, the more other people speak up and tell me about themselves.  I think that’s great.  We’ve had some new members coming to the support group, too.  I think our group has been great for everyone involved.  I know it’s been great for me.

So despite the gloominess I’ve been feeling periodically lately, I am trying really hard to force myself into action, as impossible as it seems.  Some days I don’t succeed.  But I won’t give up, as much as I want to sometimes.  Now when I’m tempted to throw in the towel, I’ll try for a bike ride instead.


leave a comment
Friday, May 24, 2013

Bridge Over Troubled Water


True friends.

What does that mean?  I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately.  I had a good group of friends in high school, and obviously once we all went our separate ways after high school, it became somewhat difficult to stay in touch.  But I did stay in touch with many of them, and even if a lot of time had gone by from the last time we saw each other, once we reunited again, we could pick back up right where we started.

College is one thing.  Once we all started getting married and having kids, it became a whole other situation.  It’s much harder to make time for friends when you have a husband and kids.  Life is much more hectic than it was in high school and college.  I feel like I try to stay in touch with people, but a few friends, I’m afraid, have drifted away completely.  I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me…I don’t want it to bother me…but it does.  I’ve had several breakdowns, where I cry and wonder why this person or that person suddenly seems to not want me in their life.  I know being bipolar makes me extra sensitive and I probably react more intensely to things than other people would.  Still…this is me.
I try to be a good friend…but the past few years have been rough…when I hit rock bottom with my drinking, when I became officially diagnosed as bipolar…trying to find myself sober and understand who I even am, where does the disorder end and the real me begins?  It frustrates me, again, to the point of tears.
I cry a lot.

It’s not like I cry every day…maybe a few times a month…and it does make me feel better afterward, I think.

So, as I was saying, I have always tried to be a good friend…but I’ve been told there are some shortcomings when it comes to my efforts…things I’d have never seen if I hadn’t been told.  But I think that’s what makes a true friend – someone who communicates with you and tells you the truth…not someone who just drops out of your life with no explanation…how will I know what I did wrong and try to improve if I have no idea what I did?  
It just really hurts when that happens…hurts to the core…and I’ve experienced it more than once. I think a true friend should honestly communicate.  A true friend is there for you when things are good…and especially when things are bad.  That’s when you really find out who your real friends are…when you’re in the deepest, darkest place in your life…and certain people are still there with you…they didn’t bail because you could be “bumming them out” or whatever…they’re there for you because that’s when you need them most.

I have learned a lot over these past few years…realized who my true friends are…often times it can be surprising to find out who sticks around…and who jumps ship…that’s what’s so hard for me to get past…but I’ll have to.  I have to focus on the wonderful people who have always been there for me…and I’d much rather have a handful of real, true friends than 3,000 superficial friends.
I feel so blessed to have the amazing friends I do have…they’re an eclectic mixture…and I love them all dearly…I try so hard to be a good friend and to make time for them, and I hope they realize that…

Right now I have some friends who are going through some difficult times…and they need support more than ever.  I want them to know I’m here for them…on their side, always…for whatever they need.  

You know who you are.  You will get through this.  I love you.
I think it’s important to “weed out” anyone who you’ve recognized is no longer a real friend, and keep those around who are genuine friends.  Those who make you feel good about yourself, those who don’t judge you.  Those who accept you for the way you are.  Think about it, if you haven’t.  If you’re anything like me, you need these people in your life.  They are your rock.  Your bridge over troubled water.  

Your true friends.





leave a comment
Friday, May 17, 2013

The Real Me

I’ve always been shy.

Believe it or not.  But I am.  I “fake it” when I have to, like when I have to get up in front of a classroom and teach English.  Or when I have to get up in front of a bunch of senior citizens and talk about the train wreck portions of my life.  I’ve always been shy.  It hasn’t gone away.

I’ve just learned to adapt…learned to accept it and work with it as much as I can.  I try to calm myself down and tell myself whatever it is I have to do, or where or to whom I have to speak, that it’ll all be okay.  And it always is.

I think I’m getting better at it…fake it ‘til you make it, right?  It just intrigues me that the way I see myself can differ so drastically from the way others see me.  For a while there, when I was drinking and partying a lot, I became known as the crazy one, the outgoing one, the outrageous one.  So I embraced that role and convinced myself that that’s who I was.  Strangely, once alcohol was out of the picture, I returned to who I really am, and that’s been…interesting…and kind of fun…and very confusing.

Being an alcoholic affects you day and night, whether you’re drinking or not.  Or, at least, it did me.  I think my behavior became more “shocking,” maybe, even when I was sober, so I could justify the things I did when I was drunk…I didn’t have a drinking problem…I was just a crazy, fun person in the first place.  Well, maybe fun.  But not crazy to the extent that I was when I was drunk.  That was a whole other level of insanity.

In order for me to keep drinking, I had to start merging the sober me to match the drunk me to show everyone that I was fine.

Right.

Every day after a night of binge drinking, without fail, I’d be hungover, sometimes suicidally depressed, crying, hating myself.  I so often didn’t even remember exactly what happened the night before, but I knew it wasn’t good.

I’m not sure why I didn’t quit sooner than I did.  Because I definitely could have.  I think my behavior was just rationalized by me and even some people around me who made me feel that I was okay.  Everyone does stupid shit, they said.  Everyone has crazy nights.  Everyone meets a 56-year-old at the bar who shows you pictures of their grandchildren and then follows you into the bathroom for a heated make-out session.

That’s not normal.

So many crazy, surreal nights like that…they sometimes come at me from different angles, at lightning speed, bombarding my brain to the point of exhaustion.  They replay in my mind, what I can remember from all the blackouts, and I can’t believe that girl was even me.  Not for a second.  That wasn’t me.  

That’s not me.

I got to the point where I started thinking the drunk me was the real me.  All these inhibitions I’d been repressing came out when I drank, right?  So those things must be what I really want…right?
Well now that I’m sober, I can express with an unequivocal NO…I didn’t want any of those things.  I was drinking myself to the point that it didn’t matter who the guy was, where we were…etc.  I just wanted to forget my problems and thrive on excitement…

Hence the bipolar diagnosis.  When I’m drunk/manic, it’s all about pleasure-seeking.  The consequences are not even on the radar.  It’s me me me now now now more more more.  And it only stops when the hangover/depression sets in.  And then I just want to die.

So I decided to change.  It hasn’t been easy…by any means.  It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.  But I never ever want to go back to sleeping by the toilet or yelling mean things at my husband when I’m drunk.  I’m okay being me now, the sober me.

The shy me.

leave a comment
Friday, May 10, 2013

Happy Mother’s Day

I never wanted to be a mom.

Adele was a “surprise.”  And at the time, a…well…very unexpected surprise.  One that did not fit into my life plans.  I was moving away to a big city.  I was outta this small town.  

But in the words of John Lennon, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”  I completely and wholeheartedly believe in this quote.

It was unreal when I found out I was pregnant.  I took six pregnancy tests just to be sure.  (Maybe there was a problem with that entire EPT shipment…it could happen…right?)  And I still didn’t believe it, not even when I went to the doctor and they confirmed it again.  I couldn’t fathom it.

I wasn’t “mom” material; I wasn’t maternal.  I didn’t have a maternal bone in my body.  (And speaking of my body, my breasts were meant for recreational use, not functional use.)  This was all wrong for me.

I didn’t really accept my pregnancy until the first time I felt Adele move inside me.  I was driving home from teaching a class and I felt that first “flutter.”  I became ecstatic.  It was just the coolest feeling.  I stopped at Wal-Mart, with a glow on my face, feeling my tummy the whole time, anticipating that next flutter of movement.

As I got bigger with each passing day, week, and month, an overall peaceful feeling settled upon me.  I used to feel anxious walking into places alone, like if I was meeting a friend for dinner somewhere.  I no longer felt anxious and alone when I walked into places.  Because I wasn’t alone anymore.

I loved just lying on the couch, sitting at the computer typing, or taking walks and feeling this unborn person inside me kicking away.  I often miss that feeling.  It is indescribable.  I could never picture what she would look like, (I wanted to find out the sex, since I had had enough surprises) but I just knew I would love her.  I hadn’t even met her yet, and already I loved her.

Once Adele arrived, I was in total and complete bliss.  (Looking back, some of that could have been the Vicodin I’d been prescribed, but anyway…)  I would go to the store while someone else watched her, and I missed her so much the entire time.  I was so in love with my baby.  I stared at her while she slept.  I was moved by every sound she made, I marveled at every tiny little baby gesture.
 I was officially a mommy.

Despite not having a single maternal bone in my body, I think I did okay in the beginning.  I was completely anal, however, making sure I fed her at the exact time intervals the doctor had told me to…checking on her incessantly as she slept…making sure everyone who came within a two-mile radius was a non-smoker who’d just washed his or her hands…I was a protective mama bear.

Now, seven years later (seven years!  Really?!) as I listen to my two children fight play, (my second child, Eleanor, is now four) it’s surreal to think about how I felt during that first pregnancy.  I wouldn’t trade it for the world.  Any of it.  No, things didn’t happen in the order they were “supposed to happen” in the eyes of many people.  But they happened in the order they were supposed to happen for me.  For us.  For all of us.

I love being a mom more than anything.  That is a statement I thought I’d never make…but it’s true.  There is nothing like looking into the eyes of these wonderful beings you created, watching them smile, hearing them giggle…I can’t imagine life without them.  I wonder what I did before them.

I adore my children.  They are what’s most important to me now…my family.  The family that happened while I was busy making other plans.  I thank God every day for this…for this privilege of being a mommy to the most amazing little girls on earth.

To all the mommies out there, the mommies of “surprise babies,” the mommies who are unsure, the mommies who are doing the very best they can with what they have, the mommies who question every decision they make…

Calm down.  Relax.  You are doing a great job.  Don’t compare yourself to other moms.  You know what’s right for your children.  Sure, we all make mistakes – and I’m sure I’ve made tons so far…but I try not to beat myself up for it.  Motherhood is a process, and one all moms go through. 

 In the end, we’ll all look back on the memories we are making every single day, and we will laugh, maybe sometimes cry…it’s all part of it.  Part of being a mother.

Happy Mother’s Day.

leave a comment
Friday, May 3, 2013

Fur Kids


May is Mental Health Month.  This month is dedicated to raising an awareness of mental health issues and educating the public.
There are so many topics when it comes to mental health…the We Care People decided this month to focus on animals and pets and how they affect one’s mental health.  I decided to write about my own experiences here.

We have two dogs, Atticus and Gatsby.  (Can you tell I was a literature major?)  They are as different as can be.  They are also both rescue dogs, though.

Atticus was rescued from a puppy mill, and Gatsby was being sent to a kill shelter.  I shudder whenever I think about these things.  How can people treat animals this way?  I know, overpopulation, blah, blah, blah.  No excuse, in my opinion.

Atticus is part poodle.  He’s little, with curly, black fur, and gray accents, like on his eyebrows.  He’s adorable, and a great dog.  Gatsby is part Australian shepherd.  He’s light brown/tan, with dark brown features around his nose and ears, and medium-sized.  Both dogs are full grown.

We haven’t had Gatsby too long, but I can’t picture my life without these dogs.  They’re part of our family.  Andy’s the real dog person, as when we got together, I’d never owned a dog.  We had cats growing up.  I was a cat person.  I like cats because you have to work for their affection…with dogs, you don’t have to do a thing, and they’re all over you.  I heard someone on a TV show one time call dogs “the whores of the animal kingdom.”

So I wasn’t used to this complete show of affection from an animal from the second I walk in the door until…forever.  At first it annoyed me.  They are so happy to see me when I come home.  They follow me everywhere.  They look up at me expectantly, with big, wondering, sad eyes, waiting to be petted or played with.

I wasn’t used to any of this.

It was, at first, major culture shock for me.  I was convinced I was a cat person and I would never make the transition to dog person. 
 I was wrong. 

I now look forward to coming home and being greeted by two furry creatures who have never been happier to see me.  I don’t get that too often from people, (which is one of many reasons why I now like dogs better than people) and it feels nice.  I am just as happy to see them.  I love to give them treats and watch their tails go crazy with anticipation as I hand them out.  It doesn’t take much to make a dog happy.

As far as helping my mental health…when I’m in one of my deep, dark depressions, it’s nice to lie with my dogs and pet them…it’s comforting.  I don’t like talking when I’m depressed, and I don’t have to with dogs.  They’re there as a source of comfort.  I find it soothing to have them curl up next to me.  They’re so innocent and good-hearted…so different from many people you come across in life.  People will let you down, people will hurt you and break your heart, people will emotionally scar you for life.

Dogs will love you.

I love showing my dogs affection, I love playing with them, I love going for walks with them.  It’s gratifying to take care of an animal.  They fulfill me in ways people never could.  Their love is unwavering, unconditional.  Atticus and Gatsby put me in a good mood when I’m down.  They give me something to look forward to, every day.  So do my children and husband, but the dogs really add to it.  Our kids adore the dogs, too, and these dogs are very tolerant of them.  (They can be a little rough with animals.  Have you read Of Mice and Men?)  

I don’t know what I’d do without these dogs.  
They’ve changed all of our lives, for the better.  They make us smile when we don’t feel like it, cheer us up and are there for us when we’ve had a bad day, relax us when we’re stressed, and simply love us.

And I simply love them.



leave a comment

About Me

I have an MA in literature from Eastern Michigan University and I write a couple of regular columns for The Delphos Herald. I am the mother of two young girls, and the wife of a firefighter. I am also bipolar (with generalized anxiety disorder) which somewhat accounts for my occupied mind. I rely on sarcasm the way others rely on oxygen.
Powered by Blogger.