Archive for the ‘depression’ Category


Just thinking

February 21, 2008

Thank you all for the encouraging responses from my last two posts. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys!!!

I’ve been thinking. And because I’m so tired of writing semi-coherent thoughts I’m giving you some dot points.

  • She’s my oldest friend so she knows more about me than anyone on this earth, besides my father and my Aunt.
  • She keeps me connected to a past that I have been forced to grieve over and let go little by little.
  • She reminds me of all the stuff I may have forgotten from my past.
  • I feel like her leaving means taking those memories away too.
  • I may be holding on tight to something that she may be letting go of.
  • I may have to accept that.
  • This is a loss of great magnitude, similar but surely not equal to the death of my mother.
  • Besides her moving so far away, she is moving on with her life and family as well.
  • I am comparing myself to her…like a sister would…and thinking, why can’t I do that?
  • Her moving is dredging up a whole shit-load of feelings from loss, to anger, to grief, to sadness then back again.
  • I could be wrong about what I thought our friendship was, I feel betrayed.
  • I could be the only one feeling all this and she’s thinking nothing of it because I’m always there for her.
  • I need to move on, accept the relationship for what it’s worth or cut ties.
  • I need to find the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.

I’ll get there. Eventually.

My head hurts from all this thinking. I need to go play with my daughter now.


It’s official.

February 20, 2008

I’m a basket case.

I can’t stop crying. My husband thinks I need serious help. He’s tired of seeing me like this.

What threw me over the edge yesterday?

I finally spoke seriously to my BFF, K yesterday, twice. I know, shocker.

I told her I need her to call me back when I call her. Because most of the time I’m calling more than once because I really need to talk to her. She promised she’d do it.

Then she proceeded to spill more of her guts.

Now, a little background. As you mostly know. I have one child. I am satisfied with one child. However, I’m scared because I feel like I should be having another child. But I can’t. I feel like I should WANT another child. But I don’t. I do feel abnormal for thinking this way. I would love to be content and satisfied enough with mself to be able to give my family one more child. But I’m not. And I know I won’t ever be. I’m getting old. I’ll be 36 next week. I will not be having another infant screaming in this house. Especially when Fa is getting more independent and well, easier. I mean really, I fucking love my sleep. I’m selfish. I know.

Adding to that, I had serious PPD with Fa and I am gun shy. To the point that I won’t even talk about it anymore. I fear for my mental stability if I had another one. And it’s on thin ice as it is people. I have no patience for the one I have most of the time and I truly think that more than one is too much. For me.

My husband hates that about me. I feel guilty. I feel different. I feel alone in this thought.

K was the only other person in the world I connected with on this topic. We were both in strong agreement that one was enough and one was fulfilling and all that other crap. Even other women I have spoken with who swore left and right that they were done with one, are moving on to two even three kids.

You see where I’m going with this, no?

K is pregnant. With number two. She’s so happy I could spit.

She’s once again left me alone. It’s official. I am the ONLY woman in creation who doesn’t want more kids. Who can’t have more kids, not because my body won’t handle it, but because my head won’t handle it.

I am a freak.

What woman on this earth doesn’t want to have a child to love and hold and nourish? What woman who has gone through the joys of pregnancy and childbirth and holding that little bundle for the first time, is so petrified that she vows NEVER to do that again?

That’s right.


I mean, there are women right now suffering emotional loss because they can’t even have one, or have a second because their bodies won’t let them. And I feel so deeply for their loss.

I need to seriously fix this head of mine, but I’m fearing more than ever that by the time I get balanced, it’ll be too late. My kid will be grown up, probably pissed at me for my crappy decisions in life that affected her terribly, my husband will have gotten sick of the drama and once again, I’ll be left alone.

I can’t help feeling so fucking alone.


Not there?

February 19, 2008

It’s only been about one full month since she moved.

I just heard from her Thursday, for the first time. In a month.

I know she’s busy and all. I mean starting her life somewhere else and making good for her and her family will make a girl busy.

But I really don’t feel right.

I feel left. Again.

I am so sad since she moved. Depressed and sad. Not because we don’t talk every day, we never did even when she was here. Not even because we won’t see each other as often, we really only saw each other once or twice a month anyhow.

It’s the distance.

The fact that even if I wanted to, I can’t just drive over to her place for coffee. Or to get our daughters to play together…and be real BFFs. Like we are. Or like we were. I’m unsure.

I’ve been thinking long and hard about this. And I really don’t feel right. I really do feel left.

I feel like I was am always there and available for her whenever she needs to cry, vent, share a whacked out story, just talk. I always answer the phone when it’s her no matter what I’m doing. I always ran right over when she needed me.

But I feel she’s impossible to find when I need a shoulder. She never answers her phone when I need to talk to her. She never calls back right away. (I’m guilty of that mostly too..but not with her, I always call her back right away.)

She’s always been a little distant.

It sort of feels like a one sided love affair. I am giving all of my heart to this relationship (good and bad) and she’s giving her heart up when its available. Which is never right when I need it.

And I need her now. Not only is she unavailable, she’s thousands of miles away. Unattainable.

We met when we were 9 years old. We became best friends instantly. She’s moved away before. And we have gone months, even years without seeing each other or talking to each other. But when we finally did reconnect it was always like we never missed a second of each other’s lives. We clicked right back into best friend mode.

And I loved that about us.

No matter how long it’s been, it really has never been too long.

But this time, it feels wrong.

It feels like she has her own life to contend with and when there’s time, she’ll fit me in. Or when bad news comes her way, I’m there to listen. She’ll take the time to vent all of her joys, her fears, frustrations and issues within one phone call. But within that time, I’m left with no chance to spill my heart out. Leaving me feeling alone. Again. And when I NEED to spill it, she’s impossible to get a hold of.

I love her so much, that I pretty much have let this behavior slide because she always seems to have a whole crapload on her plate. But I do too.

And I want to cry on her shoulder. But I can’t.

And I’m starting to think this is how it has always been. When she needs me, I’m there. When I need her, I have to wait until she finds the time to get back to me.

Is that how the relationship always was? So one sided? So distant? I think so.

That is why I’m saddest. It’s not the physical distance between us. It’s the emotional distance. It’s that I’m finally seeing (or feeling) I really am not all that important to her, as she is to me. Unless she needs advice. Then I am the best.

My feelings are hurt. My heart hurts. My head hurts from the memories of our aging friendship changing shape. Was she really my best friend all this time or was I just someone convenient to vent to? Someone unbiased toward her life, not family, but the closest thing to it without hurting my feelings when she’s ripping on them. Someone who is always there? To take advantage of? To use?

I hope not. But that’s how it feels these days.

All of a sudden, I feel very alone. Again.


I can forgive, but I won’t forget

February 16, 2008

(This post was initially written on 2/16/07…one year ago, at my first place. It’s amazing how my mind works…Brings things up like clockwork…But again, it still feels fresh…I just wanted to post it here…Because it’s on my mind again. This abandonment issue that I deal with often. It’s reared it’s ugly head once again. Why does it always feel like the ones you love most, leave? 

For some reason, I feel if I bring back some of my old writing, I’ll get inspired…anyone mind?)

The apology has been barely uttered.

Years have gone by.

But you can’t seem to get it out of your head heart.

The abandonment, the lying, the disappointment. The pressure to forgive a person for something they have done not even to you but to themselves. It still seems so fresh and so real. It’s over, but is it ever really over in your head?

She is the one who suffered. She is the one who went through it. But you feel betrayed. You feel the hurt just as deeply as if it was your own.

Life goes on. Life happens and you are supposed to forgive and forget but you have this nagging feeling of abandonment and ‘how could you do this to me?’ and you try too hard to ignore it but it surfaces when you least expect it, when you need her most. It surfaces and you back away, recoil. You become aware of the hurt and the pain you felt when she wasn’t there and you needed her most.

You try deep in your soul to let life go on as if nothing ever happened. But it’s there in your heart and you can’t let it go. You feel manipulated just a little bit and a victim of her passive-aggressive behaviors brought on by such a difficult life. Yet, you continue to pretend.

You are petrified she’ll leave again. She’ll do it again. She’ll abandon you for good and then what will you have? Nothing. Again.

You will be left alone again. Probably when you need her most.

So why bother?

Because you love her. Unconditionally. And it hurts too much to let go. You can’t say anything because, you are afraid you’ll hurt her by telling her how you really feel. Even if it means you can’t really trust. You have to pretend. Because you love her too much to let her see that you can’t trust her. You love her too much to let her know how deeply she hurt you. Even if your heart is suffering because of her.



January 7, 2008

I’m still not sure I like it here.

Blogging has become a chore here and I don’t know if it’s me or if it’s WP.

I am not literate enough in CSS to upgrade and really “pimp” my place up and I’m not feeling motivated to write crap here, especially if the place I’m writing the crap doesn’t motivate me.

Or maybe I’m just having a pity party and I’m down.

Any suggestions?

Anyone have any good things to write about?

After all it shouldn’t be about what this place ‘looks like’, but what I have to say. Right?

I’m even ignoring my Reader lately.

Gah. I’m in a slump.

2008 is not starting out nicely, really.

Ignore me…I’ll be happier sooner or later…Or is blogging losing it’s luster?


Before you go…

January 5, 2008

My best friend, ‘K’ moved this week.

To Texas.

I’m in NY.

That’s a long distance.

I am so saddened by this development.

But I saw her yesterday. And we got a chance to really say ‘see ya soon‘. We hugged and reminisced and made sure to plan my upcoming visit to Texas with Fa. We laughed like usual and gossiped about friends, old and new.

I am going to miss her terribly.

But she moved to Alabama when we were in High School and we remained “BFF’s” all through the turmoil that that move brought us.

We have so much in common that we truly are like sisters. We know each other for 27 years. That’s a long time. She really is the sister I never had.

And I love her.


I pray this move is happy for her and brings her much joy. I pray her and her family find peace in their new state and I pray that we remain as close as we are this very minute. I pray we never lose this closeness and I pray she keeps our memories dear, as I will, always.

And I pray she knows I will always love her.

Before you go ‘K’…read my mind…and know I love you forever.



Memory Box

January 3, 2008

I took my tree down last night. It took me two hours.

Not because I have that much stuff up. But because every year, putting my ornaments on the tree and taking them down has become a ritual. A ritual of remembrance.

Before Fa was born, I didn’t put up a tree for years. The boxes of ornaments were stored in my Dad’s place, gathering dust and I ignored it like the plague. I didn’t want to open it.

For opening that box would bring back too much pain. Too much Mom.

It was filled with ornaments from Christmases past. Ornaments that my Mother adored and cherished and ornaments that filled her with joy.

I was afraid to go there.

I was afraid that seeing those ornaments again, up close, would sadden me. So, I left it alone. For years.

The Christmas before I got pregnant, Mom must have given me a sign that it was time to open the box. Thus, opening my heart to what was long gone. It took me months to do it. The preparation of “THE BOX” was weighing me down. But, for some reason, I was compelled to go through it.

My therapist talked me through step by step, from the initial ripping the tape off the top to taking out and unwrapping the last ornament. Finally it was time. The flood of emotions that ran through me were staggering.

Joy for seeing the favorites from years past. Sadness from remembering how we’d put up our tree together and now I was alone. Bittersweet for seeing Mom’s most favorite ornaments still in tact and wrapped in newspaper from 1989, and waiting for me to share them again. Anger once again, for the fact that she was taken from me.

But I did it. I faced my fears head on and sorted through “The Box”. I can’t believe how perfect the ornaments stayed through all of these years. I can’t believe that the yellowing of the newspaper hasn’t taken away from the headlines of the times.

I’m so happy that I was strong enough to do that. I didn’t know it back then but it prepared me for this particular year.

The first few Christmases with Fa were all my own with the tree. It was me and the tree taking the time to remember each ornament’s significance. It became a walk down memory lane. A walk I took alone while I preserved the sensation.

This year was the first year that Fa truly understood the meaning of the tree and it’s decor. She helped me put it up and decorate it from top to bottom. She was careful with the ‘breakables’ and was thoroughly excited to see the tree take shape.

I told her about my Mother’s (her grandmother’s) most favorite ornaments and how they were sentimental to her.

Mom’s Favorites
(These two birds were her most favorite!)

I told her about how we did it when I was a little girl.

I am so grateful that I will have this opportunity with my own daughter. An opportunity I might have missed if I wasn’t strong enough to open that box.

It was wonderful.

So this year, when I took all the ornaments off the tree, I took a little extra time to examine them and remember their past. I took longer to wrap them in the same newspaper from years past and I meditated over their worth and emotional value.

It made me smile. To know that I have these items in my life. Little pieces of the past to take out every year to reminisce about my Mom.

I have since purchased more ornaments to add to the collection and Fa even makes her own now…These are fantastic additions that I know my Mom would be proud of.

I hope that I can continue this tradition of opening the box with Fa for years to come. My dream is that one day, she will share the same box with her children and speak of her grandmother the way I have taught her.

This year was a good reminder of how precious life and family is. The ornaments are truly the only tangible thing I have left of my mother and I am honored to hold them close.

Next year, I think I’ll take three hours to take the ornaments down. The longer I have with the memories, the better.