Back to School Time

With all of the posts about kids going back to school - or friends going back to school - it's made me think about my school experiences. University and business college were good in that everyone was there for the same purpose - to get a degree/diploma.

Elementary and high school were giant piles of shit.

Being 31 and looking back at my high school and elementary school experiences, so many things are opening my eyes. And it's making me nostagically depressed.

I went to a couple different elementary schools simply because of logistics. My mom went back to work when I was in grade 2, so halfway through the year I went to school with my cousins because my Gramma could drive me (she used to be my cousin's caregiver and lived only a couple blocks away from us). Then my dad got a job transfer to a remote northern SK community, which meant that we spent the grade 3 school year up there. Then transfer back to Saskatoon, putting me in a new school in grade 4 onwards.

This school was where everything just went to shit. I was made fun of for being fat constantly. Always by the boys. And before anyone tries to say "Ohhhh that must mean that they liked you" you can go jump up your own ass and die. If anyone makes fun of anyone, it's because they're a goddamn bully and their parents didn't teach them to treat other people nicely. I remember being in grade 5 - so like 10 years old - and begging my mom to let me go back to my cousin's school. I was bawling about how badly I was being treated, but there was no budging her. I don't know if she thought I was exaggerating, or if it really just wasn't that easy to switch schools, but I wish that she had stood up for me.

Once puberty hit, things kind of went sideways. I was better at hiding the majority of my pain, but then I'd have these huge outbursts at the worst times. Like at a social gathering. And still these boys persevered in making me feel like shit.

High school, the girls started in. Oh, it wasn't calling me fat (to my face) or making remarks about my appearance in general, it was moreso just backstabbing bitchiness and general snobbiness. The high school I went to didn't really help that matter; at the time, it was seen as the snobby rich kid school - something I completely agree with now.

It was in high school that my depression reared its ugly head; it was in high school that I felt like nothing; it was in high school that I tried to end my life several times.

A friend and I were chatting awhile ago - one of the few friends I've kept in contact with since graduating - about just how awful everyone was there, and how it was a goddamn miracle that we found each other. And it's true! So many people look back at high school fondly, but I look back at it in disgust. I look back at those 4 years as the beginning of my mental health crumbling, and oh how I wish that we could have nipped those issues in the bud.

As an adult, I'm still prone to bottling up emotions and things until I have inopportune outbursts. Usually it involves me crying and yelling. I find that I've been becoming more introverted and socially anxious, and I really really hate it. I hate that every single time I leave the house, I worry about what strangers are going to think of me. And the only reason that fear/worry is in my head is because for Four. Straight. Years. I was told I wasn't good enough; I was told that my appearance was the only thing that mattered; I was told that boys wouldn't want to date me because I wasn't pretty enough or thin enough. For fucks sake - I was a size 12 in high school. TWELVE. And I was being made fun of for that.

If there's anything that I hope for my children for their school experiences, it's that they have good ones. That their friends are loyal and plentiful, and that the other kids are a lot nicer. But based on how society seems to be going into a shit spiral, I'm doubtful and I'm scared.

Here's hoping I can keep that to myself so my kids aren't as damaged as I was/am.

Relapse, Relapse, Relapse, Relax Relax (Ba Ba Ba Ba Da Daaaaa)

Got Panic! At the Disco in your head yet? No? Because you've never even heard of that band before?

Well, that's your problem because they're wonderful.

That's not even my point. I'm just being a smart-ass because why not?

I haven't been posting a lot lately simply because things have, at least in my mind, settled down. I've been getting used to juggling work and home life, getting a new routine into play, sorting out things with T so that we can work as a unit... I was feeling really good.

Was. See how I used a past-tense verb?

These past couple weeks, I've been feeling flustered. Overwhelmed. Exhausted. Emotional. Yes, certain female issues played a part in that. But not all. I've been having trouble adapting to different situations, I've been requiring actual moments of "close your eyes and breathe" at work as well as at home, and other obsessive habits have kicked in again (rearranged my bedroom while the kids were unattended upstairs).

I've been trying to pinpoint why I've been feeling like this, and a friend of mine pointed out that maybe it's the fact that a year ago at this time, we were going through the hellish experience of Mr. M being so small and sick in the hospital. I feel like I've got some residual PTSD over this, simply because I didn't really deal with the emotional turmoil at the time of everything happening. I pushed it aside because I just didn't have time to be upset; I didn't have time to break down and curse and sob. I had to be strong and pulled together because I had people who depended on me.

Now? Those same people depend on me, but in a different way. Mr. M is growing up so much and from what we can tell, there aren't many lasting effects of his hospital stay. He will still have appointments with a pediatrician as well as his family doctor; he'll meet with the urologist until his inevitable surgery and go through different diagnostic procedures to determine how his organs are doing; at some point he will probably have to go through some developmental testing and/or hearing tests to make sure that everything is still going okay. But he's alive. He's alive and he's thriving and god-fucking-dammit it is such a relief that all of the emotions that I bottled up a year ago are coming through all at once.

We've been told by doctor-friends that the outcome that we got with Mr. M was a likely one. A ballpark 60% positive to 40% negative outcome. I can only thank the fact that we believe and trust in our healthcare system here, not to mention be thankful that we get our heathcare covered by the government. I can't imagine going through all of that ... and then being devastated by what would surely be a $1 million hospital bill.

That's beside the point. The point is, I feel out of control right now and it, itself, is getting out of control. I don't like it. I don't like that I can't tame it back and control it. I don't like that I can't just tell myself to stop and relax. I just plain don't like it. I'm not willing to take more meds because honestly, I don't want to take them for the rest of my life.

I just need to find my zen. My simple, basic, inexpensive zen.

Money

You want to know what's making me really anxious and depressed lately?

Money.

I know that as an adult, everyone is worried about money. Most people are worried about paying off their crippling student loans, or dealing with saving money to buy a house.

Me? I'm worried and anxious and depressed about surviving week to week.

Somehow, me going back to work has actually made our money problems more pronounced. I don't know how, seeing as we now have two incomes. But shit is just bad.

I'll write a full post later. There's a lot more to it.

I Worry

One of the (many) downsides to being an extroverted introvert is introspection. I spend a lot of my time thinking, and a lot of my time thinking about what others think of me. I alternate between getting down on myself for being a hot mess - honestly, you should have seen the disaster I was at the grocery store today - and trying to say that I give no f's what other people think of me. It's kind of exhausting, now that I have it out in the open.

But why do I worry about what others think of me? Why am I constantly comparing myself to others? Why can't I just go about my business and move on?

Honestly, I have no clue. I'm so concerned about outside opinions that I can't even begin to find an opinion of myself that I like and can build on.

The struggle is real, folks. And golly, am I struggling.

Is it me? Am I aiming too high?

Every time I start blogging, or have some magical push of creativity, I always say that I'm going to blog more. That I'm going to do it with relative consistency.

That has happened zero times.

I don't know what it is. I mean, I like to write, I like to talk... I like to talk on the internet (aka writing) a lot more than I like talking in person, so one would assume that a blog would be the perfect medium for me.

It's not like I don't have time to do it - I have a relatively fast typing speed (although it could be improved seeing as I haven't really used it as much as I used to), so churning out a blog post once a day or once every couple days should be easy.

Maybe I'm just lacking in subject material and/or I don't want to bombard the three people that read my ramblings with stories about my kids or my husband.

I actually think that the problem is that I'm just aiming a little too high. It's like every time I say I'm going to start a weight loss plan. Rather than starting small and giving myself little goals, I'm like "OKAY ALL THE EVERYTHING STARTS NOW" and then two days later I'm crushing a pack of timbits in my car en route home so that it "doesn't really count"

Shut up, you know you've been there.

So my short term little goal is to write another post this week. Here's hoping I can finally follow through!

For the Love of God

For once, I'm not using that phrase blasphemously.

I'm honestly confused and confounded by those who have a relationship with God. It's not that I don't believe in Him, I just don't understand the innate love that some people have for Him.

I was brought up a Roman Catholic. A "only practicing when we have to" Roman Catholic, but RC nonetheless. I attended Catholic schools, went through all the sacraments, even got married in a Catholic church. But that was more about just following the path, less about choosing it myself.

I have friends - good friends - who are Christian and proud. They shout it to the world - both literally and figuratively - about their love for God and how he has set out this plan for them. How can they know? How can they just blindly believe that "everything happens for a reason" or that their faith is being tested or, or, or.

It's not that I'm trying to argue with their faith. If anything, I'm proud that they believe in something/someone so fully that they will tell everyone and anyone about it. Maybe I'm mildly envious that I don't have that same sort of belief system in place.

Or maybe, just maybe, this is my call for help in understanding.

Self-Love Month - Week 1, Day 1

Finally I'm following through with blogging! Everybody say hooray! 

Today is day 1 of week 1 of both the month where I find something to write about (hopefully positive). It's also day 1 of week 1 of my 21 Day Fix round. 

I didn't realize that in a month off from working out, I'd be starting back at the beginning. I basically was at the same point of disrepair for the first workout as I was at the very first time I worked out. I couldn't one move entirely, I bowed out halfway through of a couple of them. I couldn't do the ab work because of my back. So I have learned my lesson that I shouldn't stop exercising, I should just keep plodding through. Or at least don't take a month-long break. 

I'm actually, legitimately, at a loss of what to talk about. Hopefully tomorrow I can think of something, but today all I can think about is relaxing in my bed and zoning out playing the Sims.