parenting boys

darnold1975

Three Years Of Life

Three Years of Life

12.3.2014

“I fell in love with a little boy and I’ve never been the same since.”

—-Anonymous

At 8:00 pm MST, our precious little boy will turn 3 years old.  Three years ago today we were anxiously awaiting his arrival and our challenge as new parents.  These three years have brought smiles, laughter and tears.  Marshall entered this world as a little preemie at 35 weeks.  I was very quickly allowed to get his first picture within moments of his birth.  He was taken to the NICU where he would remain for the next 18 days.  While we were glad that he was here, it was gut wrenching to know that we would be going home without our little angel that we had been planning almost since we became a couple.  I remember thinking, “OK he’s here, now what do we do?”  I was scared to death but happy all the same.  All of a sudden, the sun became much brighter and a love that I had never experience before began growing daily.  My greatest fear was losing this precious little being.  So, minimizing my time in the NICU was of utmost importance, or so I thought.  Today, I can say that I would love to have that time back with him as a brand new infant.  That was just where I was in my process at the time.

 

Christmas 2011 has got to be one of the best Christmas’s ever because we were a family and our little baby boy was finally home after 18 days of constant worry about whether or not he would make it.  This little handsome guy is, hands down the reason that we’ve been able to make it through some very dark times as a couple, individual and family.   Some nights we have both been up crying because we just didn’t know what to do to help him feel better.   I would certainly go through all the frustration of the last 3 years just to have our beautiful, sensitive, little superhero son in our lives.  I must admit that there are times when one begins to make sense as to why some animals eat their young.

We are now in the very independence gaining and boundary testing toddler years.  Sometimes I don’t know whether to choke him or just sit and hold this beautiful little boy that we have both the honor and privilege to call “Son.”  As a minority family, the response to his birth from outsiders was less than supportive as a collective majority.  You can’t convince these two moms by guilt with religion or any other tactic that we ever made a mistake by creating this little guy.

Whatever your beliefs, I can say this with a very clear conscious when I say that, “God entrusted us as parents with this precious being and thought that he was the perfect little boy to be able to handle any kind of disappointments that comes with being part of a minority family.”

Marshall knows one thing that he loves his mommies and his mommies love him.  Really, it’s that simple and what counts.

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

The Birthday That Will Never Be Forgotten

The Birthday That Will Never Be Forgotten

12.4.2014

 “How much tragedy has to happen before I slip wide open?” 
― Alisa Mullen, Unrequited

As much as I want to celebrate another year of survival from both physical and mental issues, sadly it has been overshadowed by the loss of one of our twin children.  My wife, Melody and I weren’t really concerned about the doctor’s visit because there was never a problem with any of the previous visits.  She is considered high risk every time because of us doing invitro fertilization.  We see the perinatologists which basically knows every time the babies hiccup.  We are also at about the 12.5 week stage so, chance of miscarriage was much lower.

My brother Levi Pierce and wife are in the exam room while I’m frantically trying to get there in time for the measurements and everything that entails.  We had been preparing Marshall for two babies while he was trying to reassure us that there were four. Toddlers are just funny.  I get there in time for the technician to tell me that she was waiting to take all the measurements until I got there anyway.

After having my regrets about not really knowing how to bond as a first time parent with Marshall, this pregnancy was just different.  I could feel it so strongly on an emotional level that I had never experienced.  It was so beautiful.  It wasn’t something that I ever discussed with Mel or anyone else.  For some reason because that level of emotion and bonding with such little creatures I wanted to enjoy all by myself.  I had already completely embraced the reality of us having twins and the ways that we would have to work even more as a team.  We hadn’t told anyone yet for some realities just don’t match our realities.  Nevertheless, these babies already had our hearts.

With all three of us eagerly waiting for all of the measurements, I was so excited to get to have my only somewhat physical contact with our children.  She goes through each thing she measures, stomach, legs, head circumference, etc.  “Baby B” as it was named by the doctors for twin pregnancy,  was measuring a little smaller but not a big deal because this is a twin pregnancy.  And then even though she passed the words off as really no big deal that the doctor could probably detect it, the words “I can’t find a heartbeat came out of her mouth.”  My heart hit the exam room floor.  I could only think, “Did she just say that one of our babies is dead?”  In my heart, though, I knew.  Neither I nor my brother could hold the tears back as my extremely emotionally strong wife did. Hopes were there but the doctor also confirmed that there was no heartbeat.

I will forever remember December 4th not only as my birthday but also the day one of our children was born in Heaven.  2014 had been an extremely emotional year but this, I must say, has knocked the wind out of me.  This venture was new and I didn’t know how to comfort me or my wife.  All I could think about was, “Our baby will never get to meet any of the amazing people in our lives.” I was a snot crying mess to say the least.  I had never allowed myself to be this vulnerable in public.  It felt as though, I had just been shot in the chest.  My brother just simply got up and left the room.  Mel was able to hold it together until we left the doctor’s office.  And then it was my turn to try and comfort my grieving wife.  Any additional information they might’ve given us, I never heard. I could do nothing but feel my own soul crying out for our baby.

From that day, the term “miscarriage” will never been the same as it did before it happened to us.  The few that knew were trying to be encouraging by telling us that we had another baby still left to take care of.  The anger that flew all over me was the thought that the statement meant, “You can just go get another one at the store. No big deal.”  My initial thoughts were, “That was our child, not a broken toy.”  That instant reaction was valid but completely due to grief.  I don’t remember the rest of the day.  And really, it’s ok with me.  In the following days, I laid my head on her stomach and sobbed.  I realize that “this is just part of life” and “lots of people have miscarriages.”  But, we still just lost OUR  child.

We will no doubt love this other little baby and welcome him into the world with open arms just like we did Marshall.  Our hearts will never forget the day we lost our precious little 12 week baby. Happy Birthday to me.

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

And 2 More Makes 3…..

And 2 More Make 3……..

10.21.14

“God touched our hearts so deep inside, our special blessing multiplied.”

 ~Author Unknown

I must admit that I had a Maury Povich moment when we went to our fertility specialist today.  I was hoping that if we saw more than one yolk sac that I would hear those magical words…”You are NOT the father!”  No, I’m convinced it was a brief moment of psychosis when I heard the word….”TWINS!”  I’m not sure where the idea of throwing myself into a bubbling vat of Ebola came from but I assure you it was brief.  I totally started thinking, “Where did the twins come from?  There aren’t any in my biological family?  I don’t understand?”  Ok, so maybe it was full blown “situational psychosis.” Already being a parent to a toddler has taught me that brief moments of “situational psychosis” seems to be accepted as a daily action most assuredly in public.  So, my little stand alone moment in the doctor’s office was most definitely appropriate, I think.  If someone tells you that they got that same news and didn’t at the very least think, “What the hell?!” I would have to say that they’re not telling you the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.   I must admit that I’ve had several laughs since that moment only a few hours ago about why I was actually having those thoughts.

Sometimes events surrounding fertility treatment can also be quite funny.  I can’t tell you how much fun I have with the people at Walgreens when I tell them that I need to pick up my wife’s birth control pills.  For once, I can understand what it must be like for a man to pick up tampons and pads. I usually don’t know whether to laugh or run.  I just get the typical strange looks from the employees.  So, I must respond in a rather humorous manner.  I usually tell them, “Yea, we don’t need any slip ups! The doctors told me I had a low sperm count but you can never be too safe.”  I usually just get a nod and a head tilt similar to that of a puppy.   Sometimes you just have to have fun with ignorance.  My brother, Levi Pierce, taught me that a long time ago.

I know that some will just from reading the blog and not even being around our family daily will think, “OMG, so much has happened already and your lives have been so chaotic. Why now?”  Well, let me see if I can “splain it to you, Lucy.”  So, the term “chaotic” does not even begin to explain what our lives have been like the last several years.  Truly, we both wanted to wait a little bit longer just to be able to catch our breath.  Here’s what it all comes down to………as a lesbian couple who are currently moms, we can’t just decide when the “perfect time” or “more appropriate time” would be better because without the fertility insurance that we have our costs to have a child runs $30,000+ every month we try.  Most straight or gay couples have to have the savings or the ability to take out another mortgage to be able to do this even once.  This, however, is not us.  Melody was blessed with a job that has same sex benefits including fertility benefits.  That was all about to come to a screeching halt as of less than a month ago because Mel’s current job within that company was about to be eliminated.  That meant that we would have fertility insurance only until the end of December. So, our ‘baby making’ days were looking like they were going to end and very soon.  We were scared and very sad.  We looked at everything and said, “Well, now is not really the optimal time but we had to jump on this last opportunity.”  With very minimal cost to us, we proceeded with the process of trying to get her pregnant by December.

As a gay couple, we have to take many things into consideration before having a child.  The fertility process takes up most of the brain and emotional space backed up by legal concerns.  We definitely want to move ‘closer’ but definitely not back exactly where we grew up.  Unfortunately, that area of the country is not in the majority when it comes to equality for gay rights.  We currently live in a state where both our marriage and my rights as a non-biological mother are also honored without having to adopt because we are legally married.  We, by no means, are obligated to explain why we made the decision to have another child to anyone.  Here’s just a little “bird’s eye view” of what it takes for us to be parents.  No daddies other than “donor daddies” are in this house or are involved in this process.  These babies were actually fertilized into embryos the same time our almost 3 year-old son, Marshall.  These were our “frozen babies” which also have to be paid for yearly to be kept on ice.  I’m also knocking on 40 years-old so, we really needed to get on the ball despite what all has been going on.

We transferred two embryos just like we did with Marshall in the hopes that only one would take.  However, unlike when we conceived Marshall and lost the other embryo, both of these took.  That is a chance that we as a gay couple have and had to be willing to take each time.  We could have transferred only one and taken the chance of not conceiving and running out of time.  As life would have it, Mel was offered a different job with the same company and we now have the same benefits. When you don’t know for certain what life might hand you, you have to be willing to take risks and live with the outcome.   We transferred two frozen embryos a couple of years and neither of them took.  And then it seemed that life had once again hit the gas pedal.

 I have personally always taken risks. Some decisions were good and some were not.  Mel and I have, for the most part, had to deal with this alone in the beginning because our “lifestyle” was not accepted.  We have proven that we can be parents and make it happen on our own if need be.  Is this a decision that I regret? Absolutely not!  I wouldn’t change our trials of not being accepted as a family by both society and certain family members for the gift that we have both been given as a couple and as a family.  Life has taught us many things through the gift of our son.  He makes everything seem ok among the chaos.  Has it been easy? No, but nothing ever has been for either of us even before we met.

So, sometimes when you think you have everything planned the way you want it, the universe has a good chuckle and says, “oh yea, watch this!”  We do now and will continue to embrace our roles as spouses and parents.  But, make no mistake; we are finished with baby making after this go round.  And no we don’t have to worry about having tubes tied or accidental pregnancies.  Just a bonus, I thought I might add.  We are going to embrace these babies and continue to live our life as a normal family with sometimes abnormal circumstances.

I have a total of four reasons for both living and to attack my very puzzled past and present with a vengeance.  Painful as hell is what this recovery has been and will continue to be for a while.  Mel and I are both warriors that face life like this……”Tell us we can’t accomplish something, and we can assure you that you will be proven wrong.”  This isn’t a spiteful stance just one of the signs of a strong couple who loves each other dearly. And a family that perseveres no matter how it might look; what people think; or what it takes to have a minority family and keep it together.  We struggle just like every other family ours is just made up of two mommies, a little boy, two yolk sacs and a lot of love.

I would totally go through all of the abuse of 14 years from my previous heterosexual marriage again to know that in the end I would eventually hit the jackpot!

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Family Day

Family Day

9.8.14

“Some people’s lives seem to flow in a narrative; mine had many stops and starts. That’s what trauma does. It interrupts the plot. You can’t process it because it doesn’t fit with what came before or what comes afterwards.” 
― Jessica Stern 

And then you have a random day where everything seems wonderful.  I’ve been in public without getting sick.  I’ve stopped and talked to a friend and laughed.  I’m only dealing with minimal physical ailments this morning.  Maybe the weed, klonopin, Valium and ativan are working.  I’m not asking questions. I’m just going to enjoy the ride.  Reality will be back soon enough.  At least I’m not sick despite all of the medication.

I wish I had had the break from some of the side effects from when we went and took pictures on Sunday.  I was all dosed up and ready to face the people and overstimulation of my brain.  The plan was to take Marshall to the botanical gardens and let him ride the choo-choo.  Off our little family goes to find the choo-choo.  Did I mention that I had been dosed with a good bit of meds before I left the house?  I vaped on my wax pen all the way to our destination at the Botanical Gardens.

Everything was going fine. Marshall was enjoying running around being a kid.  Mel was…well….being a mixture of a professional photographer and a mommy.   Today was going to be the day that Marshall and I had “mommy/son pictures.”   Other families were there having picnics and just enjoying a nice, cool Sunday late morning and taking in the scenery.  The people were spread out so, at least, I wouldn’t have to worry about them touching me.  I had my wax pen ready, my sunshades to hide my life full of shame and my IPod ready to face any type of external or internal stimulation.

Marshall was showing me things and asking, “Bite you?” So, our conversation was typically, “No, baby, flowers don’t bite.”  Then he sees the koi pond. The koi have instantly become sharks.  He starts shouting to get our attention, “Sharks, Sharks!” Yep, this momma was proud that our son knows the difference between a fish and a shark.  I look behind me thinking because I thought I heard someone call my name.  It was a seemingly peaceful pathway filled with small trees, bushes and ground covering.   “Here we go,” I thought but not knowing why.  I notice my stomach getting a little nauseated but took a couple of vapes off my pen and hoped that the feeling would go away.  I soon noticed that my jaw began hurting. The muscles in my body began cramping. The nausea became stronger.  I told Mel that I was going to sit down a few minutes to rest, but really hoping that I just didn’t throw up.

 The longer I sat there, the worse I felt.  As a tear, dropped from my eye underneath the sunshades and shaky voice, I told Mel we needed to go home.  An unimaginable fear I must’ve been ‘triggered’ but I hadn’t realized it. Then, the headache hit.  Not as bad as the one last week, when I had acupuncture where I never remembered the visit, but plenty bad enough to feel miserable.

Once again, my physical symptoms have messed up another family outing. And soon the shame and guilt hit me like a “tornado propelled bumble bee.”  I had no warning but thought it was probably in the lineup somewhere.  I felt like collapsing from just sheer embarrassment, even though, people around me didn’t seem to notice. I just sat down again and tried to wait for the feeling to pass. After several minutes, I decided no more waiting and listening to music. I suddenly had to GET THE HELL AWAY FROM WHERE I CURRENTLY WAS!  Something still seemed to scare me, but I didn’t know what.

I tried to remember what we were doing, and what had just happened to cause such a scare.  I couldn’t remember what I had said, done or thought. All I could do was hope that ‘it’ was over soon.

MY wife, being the very understanding person she is, told me everything was ok and we could come back another day.  The disappointment laid somewhere deep within me, not her.  She had no idea the level of disappointment I was experiencing.  Everything was fine and now it wasn’t.  Marshall didn’t seem to notice and neither did the people passing by. So, now I act like everything is fine, right?  I stood up and the familiar feeling hit me but this time it scared me. My body didn’t feel like I could control itself but I was moving.  It was as if I was watching this awkwardly walking human being that I didn’t recognize. ‘Things’ just weren’t ok for some reason.

We were still able to get some good pictures of me and Marshall.  But, the disgrace of the signs and symptoms of disorders can be embarrassing even if other people don’t seem to see them.  Some things can’t be hidden.  Some things have been hidden for years and are now noticeable.  I just wanted to get back to my ‘familiar’ surroundings….HOME!

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Who Am I?

Who am I?

9.8.14

“Don’t underestimate me.  I know more than I say,

Think more than I speak,

 & notice more than you realize.”

–Anonymous

Behind the smiles you don’t see the frowns.  Behind the laughs you don’t see the cries.  Behind the eyes you don’t see the tears.  And behind the contentment that you see in the pictures of me and our son, you don’t see the fears that I hide.  You see what I allow you to see.  I let you see what is socially acceptable.  But, you DON’T see the real me.  What if you did? Would you even recognize me? Could you even pronounce my name?  Or would I be that same person, to you that you’ve grown-up with and known the majority of your life?

I resemble the same person you knew in middle school and high school.  I have a wife instead of a husband.  We have a 2.5 year old son.  We live in the time zone known as “Marshall Standard Time.” I wear shorts and t-shirts instead of cleats and uniforms.  I’m still the same ‘clown’ that you’ve always known me to be.  I still laugh at inappropriate shit. My humor about things has never disappeared.  I’m just not as “happy-go-lucky” as I use to be.

 There wasn’t one event that caused a change in me over time.  It was abuse that occurred over many years that has changed me.  If I met you 20 years now since high school, you would see that same person that you were in the halls with but attached to my leg is a little boy. And attached to my heart is my wife, Melody Landrum-Arnold.

No one ever knows someone else’s true “secrets.”  You saw a seemingly happy wife walking by her husband’s side and holding his hand.  You saw parents supporting their child in every way possible. You saw an athlete very passionate and dedicated to the sports she loved.  And you saw a fun loving and respectful person when our paths crossed.  There were scars and open wounds that you never knew.

What you didn’t know or see were all of the “secrets” of a lifetime of abuse.  What if you knew all of my thoughts? What if you knew the things I was made to do? Would you look at my scars and be disgusted? Could you look me in the eye because I couldn’t you? Would you stand there speechless because of the lies you were told and believed? Or would you say, “Gee, I’m sorry” and avoid all eye contact.  Why? SHAME.  Those of us who were once victims carried the shame of our abusers who were “shameless.”

I wish people who have and continue to judge me could spend one day in my brain with all the chaos as a result of the abuse.  You wouldn’t survive one minute!  No one taught me how to survive all of that.  I figured it out on my own.  Some behaviors are maladaptive, I’ll agree.  I did what I had to do to SURVIVE in any way possible!

I’ve been very strong for many years but I’m tired.  Mornings like now seem like the movie Groundhog Day.  The abuse replays every moment I’m alive.  Every morning, the abuse starts all over again.  I feel like, I’m stuck in survival mode all the time.  Sometimes I feel like a victim and sometimes I feel like a survivor.  I try and live life “one minute at a time” because “one day at a time” seems entirely too long, right now.

I’m very much a realist.  I see things for the way they are, instead of the way they can be.  The whole analogy of the duck is how I view even the simplest of events, ideas, comments, etc.  So, basically I get in my own way.  Part of this process is going to be to retrain how the brain perceives things, I think.

I also repeat things sometimes at different times.  So, if some of the abuse stories seem to overlap, just ignore and keep reading.  I’ll explain why this happens later.

Please try and understand that this is just where I’m at in my healing journey.

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

More Traveling

More Traveling

8.19.14

“She was a stranger in her own life, a tourist in her own body.” 
― Melissa de la Cruz, The Van Alen Legacy

I always feel the need to speak about toddler events in the mornings because well…..sometimes they’re just funny.  So, I was doing the usual getting Marshall ready for school and loaded in the car.  I asked him if he would like some cheetos since that’s what we had in the car for him as a snack.  He shook his head and said, “Momma D, no cheetos…only toes!” “Ok, Marshall, mommy will only call them ‘toes’ from now on.”  Sometimes this kid makes me really laugh.

The term “traveling” has a much different definition to me than the general public seems to understand.   When “traveling, “I’m definitely anywhere I want to be.  I could be on the beach somewhere enjoying the sun or checking out the lesbian buffet.  Every place can be new or one that seems to bring much emotional comfort.  However, sometimes the memories of abuse invade and I to go elsewhere without even knowing it.  To the average person, a function such as this doesn’t seem that different from seemingly “ignoring” the spouse or a boss.  Everyone at some point wishes they were somewhere different especially when at work or just needing a vacation.  Most people don’t use this as a defense mechanism but rather just ‘daydreaming.’

As a child, throughout my molestation, I was mentally forced to be somewhere else.  I couldn’t possibly deal with things as they were.  Each time I knew of another “episode,” my mind would go elsewhere.  I had no idea that the ‘dissociation’ had occurred. I just knew that I couldn’t physically and mentally handle the situation at hand.  The specifics about the molestation are going to be left to my very brave therapists.

Over time, this natural and sometimes forced dissociation becomes second nature.  Just I like said in an earlier post about with PTSD symptoms happening when there is an actual or ‘perceived’ threat, this has now become an automatic type of coping mechanism.  Since, I have apparently been doing this since very early childhood even without my knowing, this behavior has become a daily response to anything ‘perceived’ as threatening.  To put these ‘threats’ in perspective for you, I can give you examples of ‘perceived threats.’ Things such as: loud noises, too many people in one area, too much visual, tactile and auditory stimulation, social situations, being by myself, being touched by someone, hollering, bad weather, and many more situations.  As you can imagine, I have varying reactions to therapy because I’m processing everything that happened on different levels.  So, seeing me as the person you know is completely different from what and how they see me as a person.  I’m still the same person you know and grew up with if you see me.  You probably won’t know anything has ever happened or is wrong.  After all, we are taught from a very young age to keep things in the family even if the family doesn’t know.

Dealing with the trauma on such different levels, my therapists and wife get to see very unique sides of me.  Dissociation is very natural for me especially while in therapy.   Sometimes I can stop it and sometimes I can’t.  This can and does present problems in therapy at times, but we work through it and figure out what’s happening.  The goal is to try and minimize “traveling,” while getting use to not using it at all to function daily?  Is this possible?  Really, I don’t know.  I am trusting in the people that I work with to guide me through this healing process.  I have to admit that I wish there was some kind of ‘rapid’ trauma treatment that I can do while under sedation.  Almost like processing without being conscious of what is going on.  This, unfortunately, isn’t part of the process.  The part of the process I’m currently in is one of both mental and physical chaos.  I do the best that I can because that’s what I was taught by both my parents and coaches even when it’s scary as hell.

I write because everything else scares me to the point of vomiting.  I have lost 40lbs because of the stress on both me and my family.  I’m not currently restricting in regards to eating disorder behavior.  Even though, I definitely have a lot of “eating disorder” thoughts and some behaviors especially in public or with certain people.  But, I go sometimes for days without knowing that I haven’t eaten.  I have even overdosed on medication and had no idea until a couple of days later that this had occurred.  I go for minutes, hours, day and sometimes weeks with not knowing what has transpired.  I simply understand this as “traveling.”  Sometimes I have done things in that ‘state’ that I am and will continue to be embarrassed about. Things are said and done are like a game that I think people are playing with me to make me feel bad.  I have bought things, gone places, eaten, not eaten, had conversations, had arguments and have had ‘rage’ events that I have no memory of happening.

I carry a lot of guilt and shame once I understand days later what has happened.  Does this sound like a quality of life to you? My perpetrators have left a war for me to deal with everyday.  I simply try to win one battle at a time until the war is over.  Medical marijuana just helps with a lot of the horrible physical and mental symptoms that I have from all of this. It doesn’t take back anything that happened. I have to take a lot of this medication to be able to go out in public or therapy because everything’s so painful.  For those that think that ”a drug is a drug,” you’re right it’s just like insulin being used as a medicine.  And sorry my disordered behavior has nothing to do with marijuana except to keep both the public and me safe.   I have a quality of life now that I haven’t had before.  Not everyone uses this plant as a medication or recreationally within limits.  There are actually people who no longer think about suicide because they the government has made a medication legal that can also give them a quality of life that they never saw possible. There are a lot more people that use and die from prescribed medications that the trusted doctors administer.  Please educate yourself on this, someone you know might can and could benefit from this plant one day.  It just might be you!

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Morning Monsters

Morning Monsters

8.15.14

“Your mind is your prison when you focus on your fear.”

—-Tim Fargo

I woke up this morning just feeling discombobulated for no reason that I can understand.  I know that my stomach hurts and I’m nervous to the point of almost being scared. I just have that deep and dark feeling that something bad is about to happen. I check the house for intruders with the toddler by my side thinking we are hunting for Scooby-Doo (doo-doo-doo toddler version). Everything seems safe but very unsettling. I found nothing in the house to signify any breach of “safety.”  Marshall, however, did find Scooby Doo in DVD format. So, I get the movie started and take my cannabis wax pen with me to the bathroom just in case I begin to vomit.  The buildup of tension has led to another early morning bout of ‘shock and awe.’

The one thing that I have begun to do is listen to what my body is saying.  This too is a relationship that includes work.  My body, seems to know, even though my mind doesn’t understand, that something feels very threatening.  I immediately, go to where my vaporizer is warming up and prepare to take my morning medicine.  Scooby-Doo, a superhero toddler and medical marijuana sounds like a good combination to settle what’s happening in my body.  After a few good vapes, I begin to feel my body and mind relax.

Ok, back to normal “mommy duties.” But, something still doesn’t feel ‘ok’ about this morning.

Anyway, said toddler grabs two “baby paws” full of fresh, cherry tomatoes from the garden bucket for a morning snack.  I’m thinking, “at least he’s going to eat something healthy for breakfast.”  I start getting dressed to take him to daycare and begin to revel in the moment of being by myself. I try to ignore the nauseating feeling creeping to a very uncomfortable level.  I switch to my wax pen which is much stronger concentration than what’s in my vaporizer. I take a couple of ‘hits’ and within a few minutes the nausea begins to subside.  In the meantime, Marshall has taken his paws full of ‘snacks’ and has begun shoving them ever so forcefully into a magnetic bottle opener on our refrigerator.  I now have seeds and tomato juice on everything. I cleaned it all up but not before he starts screaming like I just set him on fire.  Yes, what he wanted was to keep his squished cherry tomatoes, seeds and juice.  I then remember that Marshall is meeting textbook criteria for a diagnosis I call “Chronic, Intermittent Toddler Psychosis.” This disorder is often exhibited most often while out in public.  This is when everyone that is around now posts a new Facebook status about a crazed toddler. .  My first thought was, “Why didn’t we use protection?”  Next thought, “I hope like hell Comcast is working this morning and this child can watch Netflix.”  I look over to our modem and “Halleluer! The angels are singing in heaven! I have a signal!”  I find Scooby-Doo on Netflix and “Toddler Psychosis” appears to have forgotten about what activated the event.

I vape for a few more minutes just to make sure I don’t get sick while attempting to take him to school.  Something is still very unsettling from within.  I tell Marshall to come on so we can go to school. I begin turning off all the lights like I was so gently reminded, as a kid, about how ”leaving lights on costs money.”  Marshall meets me at the door with a truck in each paw along with his blanket, sippy cup and Scooby-Doo DVD case.  Telling him,” Scooby can stay here during the day was not working this morning.”  Picking my battles, we take everything he has gathered to the car.  I begin buckle him in and we head off to the daycare.

I begin backing out of my driveway, when I feel the ‘weight of the world’ hit my chest like a bullet in war. I sit there wondering if I was dying. My chest begins hurting to the point of tears.  I take a couple of vapes off my wax pen hoping for quick relief.  It takes a few minutes, but I now feel like I can get him to school. By the time, we start leaving the military base that we live on, I can feel the battle between the chest pains and mmj happening.  I start heading in the direction of his school which is only about 5 minutes away from the house.  The radio was playing some very familiar songs from my high school days and the seat heater was warm which seemed to be comforting.  OMG! I forgot that some schools have started back. The panic has started.

 ‘There are too many cars. Something is going to happen to you because you can’t keep an eye on all of the people on the road.  Everyone is looking at you.  Everyone is judging you.  You don’t know them, but they know you. If anyone steps out of line with a look or a comment…I’m ready! Be ready for any and everything! Please don’t say or do anything stupid!’

I drop Marshall off at school hoping no one notices how I feel on the inside. What would they think? Do, I look like I’m acting “normal?” So, I throw a few jokes and toddler stories out there for the employees to laugh at while I try to slide out the door without my emotions being detected.  I make it out to my vehicle where I just sit and breathe for a few seconds.  My body and mind feel like I’m on the run from a serial killer. I notice now that not only is my chest pounding. But, now my back hurts to the point that I feel as though I have been impaled with something.  My jaw hurts and the rest of my body feels like everything is cramping.

Brief insanity moment thinking: “Go to Wal-Mart and go shopping.” “Are you kidding? I just barely made it to the daycare to drop Marshall off and stayed alive!” I notice the vehicle going the opposite direction from Wal-Mart. My body feels like I have just been beaten with something.  I finally make it back home where all of the anxiety from getting out in public hits me.  I now have to have mmj and the toxins (regular medication) to attempt to gain control over my symptoms.  I realize that the symptoms from earlier are from the anticipation of going in public. You’ve just witnessed on both the inside and outside what point ‘social anxiety’ has its grasp has on me.  All of the physical and emotional symptoms are because of the trauma that I experienced from someone who made the choice not to work on their own trauma.

This is a process that has no time limit.  I have 30+ years of trauma to process.  Even while writing this, my body still has not reached its ‘normal balance’ after almost two hours since being home from taking Marshall to daycare. I got lucky that I didn’t have to really interact or be rubbed up against like being at a mall.  I don’t know about this process.  I usually have everything mapped out and I now feeling like I’m going in blind. And that scares me to my core. My childhood coach, Nick Kolinsky,  I mentioned in a previous day’s post told me about how a winner plays ball…..”Little things make big things happen!”  This is how, I’m trying to face this big challenge before me.

#Thispuzzledlife