I was never depressed growing up. Life was alway tenuous, but I roll with the punches, and, aside from normal "sads", I was a generally happy person.
I had healthy friendships, normal relationships, a good outlook on life, and an amazing body.
I started out as a very shy wallflower. Eventually I embraced my inner freak, and nurtured my free spirit. I danced through my adolescence to my early adulthood, and I seriously enjoyed every minute of it. I lived to look back on my life with no regrets, and I don't have and from that period of time.
At 26 I joined the Military. It was a hard decision, but one I truly embraced. I set very lofty goals for myself (for the first true time in my life), and I achieved every one of them on schedule. I graduated at the top (not number 1, but in the top 5) of my class. You have no idea how hard that was as a dyslexic!! Of course the military never knew about that because my dad told them to go to hell when they told him I had a learning disability. He explained to them that the problem wasn't with me, but with them. You see, at six years old I wrote upside down and backwards. My disability is really an ability with embarrassing side effects. I can still read and write upside down and backwards. I will forever mix up A and B, or say yes when I mean no, or call you Roger when I KNOW your name is Wayne because when we met you reminded me of a Roger, and I can't keep it straight in my head long enough to get it verbal correctly.
Ok. None of that really has much to do with this, except to give you a solid example of one of the ways my father is my hero.
I got pregnant in the military, which was a huge surprise, since I had been told by my doc (and tried for a solid year) that I could not have kids. So, along comes Lexi, and my priority was that baby, not the U.S., so I left the military. In hindsight, I think I wish I stayed. I loved my job so much, and it was a really hard choice. But my goal when I joined was to join the State Department to be a currier or to be an attaché to an embassy. Those are dangerous jobs and in my personal opinion (for myself only) not fit for a mother.
I left the military and joined my parents in Vegas and started a business or two for my dad. I had to have my daughter in Vegas, the military wouldn't let me have her in Utah. When 9/11 happened I was in the process of opening a tanning salon. I had my business plan, my beds picked out, my space found, and was working with my banker to secure financing. Somehow, the fact that I was going to be a mother on 9/12 didn't seem like a hurdle to me. Lol. Silly girl!!
9/11 changed my world. Not in the way it changed so many friend's lives, but it changed my perspective. My daughter wasn't born until 9/25, but by then I had decided I could not raise her in Las Vegas. I wanted to go home to Utah to be close to my family. My parents lived in Vegas, but the still had their house in Utah.
I'm going to fast forward. Life was challenging but good. I loved being a mom, and I was really good at it. I worked hard and finally started making enough to buy a small house. I loved it. It was a lot of work, but I loved it.
Eventually I was robbed one morning and I fell out of love with my house, but honestly, things started to fall apart before that.
I was in love, and I got pregnant. We were excited and life seemed good. I had a lot of problems with my pregnancy. Not medical emergency problems, but I was in constant, terrible pain for nearly the whole thing. By the end I couldn't lift my leg or roll over in bed without sobbing in pain.
Eleven days before I gave birth I found out he had spent the last three months cheating on me. I was suddenly so lost and so trapped and so depressed. We tried to work it out for 5 months, before I finally kicked him out. We fought bitterly over custody. For some reason he decided I was not the person I am, and I was going to screw him over. I would never do something like that to a child. I grew up with only one parent, and I wouldn't wish that giant hole in your heart on anyone. My oldest daughter has to deal with that (he abandoned us), and I wish it were different.
As you can imagine, postpartum depression was terrible. I wanted to be over joyed to be a parent, but I felt like she would have been better off without. I felt like everyone would. I wasn't suicidal, but I spent a lot of time thinking about the world without me. I got therapy. We maxed the deductible with the C-section, so I could pay the 20%. After the danger had passed I quit going to therapy. I don't really feel like I ever came out of my postpartum though.
Lets fast forward again. At the beginning of 2011 I made a resolution and I worked really hard to change things, everything really. It was around this time I joined Tumblr. It was that July I went to my second Tweetup (the first was actually a Tweetup, and had nothing to do with Tumblr) and had crazy fun. I met Jess and we eventually became great friends. I met other really great friends there too. Some I still see, but most I haven't seen since then, sadly.
I made it to the second SNARK and had such am amazing time I went to the next SNARK too. I met the SLUTs and thought I had found lifelong kindred spirits. I met a boy and fell in love. I set out to open a store where I could nurture the free spirit inside me, and then I actually opened it.
Slowly things began to fall apart. The boy didn't love me and dumped me. The store was barely maintaining a pulse. The SLUTs decided they hated me (not all of them, but enough to end it). My house was falling apart, and by my birthday in January my family and my job (the one that pays the bills, and my father who is my only parent) appeared to be completely gone as well.
When I drove to the Keys on my birthday I was probably very close to just ending it all or disappearing or something. I don't know, but I can't even describe how bad it was for me.
Luckily I met a man. Not the kind of man I would ever have picked, but thank goodness I got plenty drunk to give him a chance. I just kept postponing the impending break down (I will cry tomorrow I kept saying). I didn't. I felt human and loved and wanted. Which is something I hadn't felt in a long time.
When I came home I got a call from the step mom. I had sent an email to my dad, which was hurtful. It was honest, and it needed to be said, but I should have SAID it. We don't talk though, we never have, so I wrote it.
She told me that I was going to lose my job at the first of May. She told me that if my dad had a heart attack from the stress in his life, it was my fault. She told me that the reason they never invited me places (where they always take her kids) was because I was bad company and nobody wanted to be around me. There was more, it was all as bad.
I wrote her off. In my head I wrote her off. I denied her space. I had many, many cries over it. I shut down further and I disconnected more. As much as I denied her space, it put me in a downward spiral. I started drinking way more. I hated myself a little more everyday. I kept dwelling on how much everyone must dislike being around me. I never came close to actually committing suicide, but I thought about it all the time.
It's been a slow road and I still have dark days, but I am coming back to the light.
I miss all of you lovely people. I wish I could afford to go to Tweetups, but the store eats every extra penny I make. I will do my damnedest to make it to SNARK though.
It's so strange to think how deeply I let all of you in. In my life I am stoic and a shadow. It's rare anyone sees my pain. My best friend does, and my grandma used to. She can't anymore. She is in so much pain and is so confused. That hurts almost more then not having my dad in my life (he's there. I see him rarely, and speak to him less, but in his opinion I am finally being a good daughter). My grandma was always my confidant and my cheerleader and my conspirator. She is still here, but she is not these things anymore. No one is.
This is even longer then I intended. If you stuck sound, thank you for that. My heart beats for you.
I had healthy friendships, normal relationships, a good outlook on life, and an amazing body.
I started out as a very shy wallflower. Eventually I embraced my inner freak, and nurtured my free spirit. I danced through my adolescence to my early adulthood, and I seriously enjoyed every minute of it. I lived to look back on my life with no regrets, and I don't have and from that period of time.
At 26 I joined the Military. It was a hard decision, but one I truly embraced. I set very lofty goals for myself (for the first true time in my life), and I achieved every one of them on schedule. I graduated at the top (not number 1, but in the top 5) of my class. You have no idea how hard that was as a dyslexic!! Of course the military never knew about that because my dad told them to go to hell when they told him I had a learning disability. He explained to them that the problem wasn't with me, but with them. You see, at six years old I wrote upside down and backwards. My disability is really an ability with embarrassing side effects. I can still read and write upside down and backwards. I will forever mix up A and B, or say yes when I mean no, or call you Roger when I KNOW your name is Wayne because when we met you reminded me of a Roger, and I can't keep it straight in my head long enough to get it verbal correctly.
Ok. None of that really has much to do with this, except to give you a solid example of one of the ways my father is my hero.
I got pregnant in the military, which was a huge surprise, since I had been told by my doc (and tried for a solid year) that I could not have kids. So, along comes Lexi, and my priority was that baby, not the U.S., so I left the military. In hindsight, I think I wish I stayed. I loved my job so much, and it was a really hard choice. But my goal when I joined was to join the State Department to be a currier or to be an attaché to an embassy. Those are dangerous jobs and in my personal opinion (for myself only) not fit for a mother.
I left the military and joined my parents in Vegas and started a business or two for my dad. I had to have my daughter in Vegas, the military wouldn't let me have her in Utah. When 9/11 happened I was in the process of opening a tanning salon. I had my business plan, my beds picked out, my space found, and was working with my banker to secure financing. Somehow, the fact that I was going to be a mother on 9/12 didn't seem like a hurdle to me. Lol. Silly girl!!
9/11 changed my world. Not in the way it changed so many friend's lives, but it changed my perspective. My daughter wasn't born until 9/25, but by then I had decided I could not raise her in Las Vegas. I wanted to go home to Utah to be close to my family. My parents lived in Vegas, but the still had their house in Utah.
I'm going to fast forward. Life was challenging but good. I loved being a mom, and I was really good at it. I worked hard and finally started making enough to buy a small house. I loved it. It was a lot of work, but I loved it.
Eventually I was robbed one morning and I fell out of love with my house, but honestly, things started to fall apart before that.
I was in love, and I got pregnant. We were excited and life seemed good. I had a lot of problems with my pregnancy. Not medical emergency problems, but I was in constant, terrible pain for nearly the whole thing. By the end I couldn't lift my leg or roll over in bed without sobbing in pain.
Eleven days before I gave birth I found out he had spent the last three months cheating on me. I was suddenly so lost and so trapped and so depressed. We tried to work it out for 5 months, before I finally kicked him out. We fought bitterly over custody. For some reason he decided I was not the person I am, and I was going to screw him over. I would never do something like that to a child. I grew up with only one parent, and I wouldn't wish that giant hole in your heart on anyone. My oldest daughter has to deal with that (he abandoned us), and I wish it were different.
As you can imagine, postpartum depression was terrible. I wanted to be over joyed to be a parent, but I felt like she would have been better off without. I felt like everyone would. I wasn't suicidal, but I spent a lot of time thinking about the world without me. I got therapy. We maxed the deductible with the C-section, so I could pay the 20%. After the danger had passed I quit going to therapy. I don't really feel like I ever came out of my postpartum though.
Lets fast forward again. At the beginning of 2011 I made a resolution and I worked really hard to change things, everything really. It was around this time I joined Tumblr. It was that July I went to my second Tweetup (the first was actually a Tweetup, and had nothing to do with Tumblr) and had crazy fun. I met Jess and we eventually became great friends. I met other really great friends there too. Some I still see, but most I haven't seen since then, sadly.
I made it to the second SNARK and had such am amazing time I went to the next SNARK too. I met the SLUTs and thought I had found lifelong kindred spirits. I met a boy and fell in love. I set out to open a store where I could nurture the free spirit inside me, and then I actually opened it.
Slowly things began to fall apart. The boy didn't love me and dumped me. The store was barely maintaining a pulse. The SLUTs decided they hated me (not all of them, but enough to end it). My house was falling apart, and by my birthday in January my family and my job (the one that pays the bills, and my father who is my only parent) appeared to be completely gone as well.
When I drove to the Keys on my birthday I was probably very close to just ending it all or disappearing or something. I don't know, but I can't even describe how bad it was for me.
Luckily I met a man. Not the kind of man I would ever have picked, but thank goodness I got plenty drunk to give him a chance. I just kept postponing the impending break down (I will cry tomorrow I kept saying). I didn't. I felt human and loved and wanted. Which is something I hadn't felt in a long time.
When I came home I got a call from the step mom. I had sent an email to my dad, which was hurtful. It was honest, and it needed to be said, but I should have SAID it. We don't talk though, we never have, so I wrote it.
She told me that I was going to lose my job at the first of May. She told me that if my dad had a heart attack from the stress in his life, it was my fault. She told me that the reason they never invited me places (where they always take her kids) was because I was bad company and nobody wanted to be around me. There was more, it was all as bad.
I wrote her off. In my head I wrote her off. I denied her space. I had many, many cries over it. I shut down further and I disconnected more. As much as I denied her space, it put me in a downward spiral. I started drinking way more. I hated myself a little more everyday. I kept dwelling on how much everyone must dislike being around me. I never came close to actually committing suicide, but I thought about it all the time.
It's been a slow road and I still have dark days, but I am coming back to the light.
I miss all of you lovely people. I wish I could afford to go to Tweetups, but the store eats every extra penny I make. I will do my damnedest to make it to SNARK though.
It's so strange to think how deeply I let all of you in. In my life I am stoic and a shadow. It's rare anyone sees my pain. My best friend does, and my grandma used to. She can't anymore. She is in so much pain and is so confused. That hurts almost more then not having my dad in my life (he's there. I see him rarely, and speak to him less, but in his opinion I am finally being a good daughter). My grandma was always my confidant and my cheerleader and my conspirator. She is still here, but she is not these things anymore. No one is.
This is even longer then I intended. If you stuck sound, thank you for that. My heart beats for you.
