Depression.

I've been seeng a lot of supportive and positive messages towards mental illness as of lately, so I feel comfortable writing this.

Depression and anxiety sucks.

As much as everyone wants to tell me nothing is wrong with me or that the way I feel is normal, they don't get it. Yeah sure, I may cover it up really well, but I have breakdowns at home weekly. These "breakdowns" happen when the last straw breaks the camels back. That last event that causes me to cry, pull my hair, slam things, and go chain smoke five cigarettes. That "event" may of been me stepping in something sticky when I came home. Or the house being hot. Or because the bathtub is still full of water from Autumn's bath. Or it could be the way someone said my name. It may even be my own child's touch that pushes me over the edge.

Yes, it's shitty that sometimes my anxiety is so high that Autumn touching me makes me freak out. I've learned to hold it in for the most part, because I really sincerely love Autumn's hugs and kisses, it's just sometimes that bitch named anxiety tells me I hate it.

Sometimes I feel like nobody gives a damn about me.I feel alone. I feel like everyone is against me. I get so mad that all of the "nice" and "thoughtful" things that someone has done for me seem like ways to keep me from bitching, not signs of affection. I even get so low as to believe my child actually hates me and has a personal vendetta against me.

There are mornings I wake up and the whole world looks like different shades of grey (and in a totally depressing and not kinky way.) I instantly hate everything. I hate the drive to work, my coffee tastes gross, and every single caller I get at work is a nuisance who shouldn't be calling- even that lady calling about her cancer treatments.

This depression and anxiety makes me an asshole. I hate who it makes me. I'm a non judgemental, live & let live, loving, friendly, adventurous, happy person. Or so I thought.

Then there are good days. I feel so energetic and so excited for the future. I feel like I can conquer my goals and succeed in being who I want to be. But it just takes one "event," that moment that is unrecognized by any other person but me.

It affects my writing. The depression doesn't allow me to write. I want to write sometimes about some witty and cute thing Autumn did, but my brain is discouraged by the cloud of depression. I get anxiety thinking about what people think of me when they read my blog. Funny thing is, I don't give a flying hoot what anyone thinks of me. My fat ass goes to the water park every other day in a tankini. I have fun with my kid and I am comfortable and cool! What peopel think about me is never a thought on my mind out there. So why do I sometimes care what people think about me?

It affects how I parent. Anxiety tells me that Autumn's toddler behavior is a result of bad parenting and letting her be "too free range" even though I whole heartedly believe in the way we are raising her. So I yell and put her in time out, which is confusing for a kid. Then I feel more like a jerk for being such a spaz.

It affects my friendships. Depression tells me that my friends are in a different place than I am, and that they've moved on and replaced me. I know this isn't true, because my friends are my family. They're there for me like one of my blood. However, depression is very convincing and always creeps up as anxiety is telling me all the horrible things that will happen to my child when I'm away with friends. Then, I'll feel guilt forever because I should've been with her instead of my friends.

It affects my relationship because I blame how I am on them. Is our relationship healthy? I wouldn't say it is. But I will say it'd be a lot healthier if I took accountability for the decisions I make instead of blaming them on him. Does he understand? Not really. This isn't how I was ten years ago when I met him, and somewhere in  between having a kid, living together, not living together,  and going back to full time work- this is who I've become. Would I love to be best friends again? Yes. Do I think he'll understand I'm not just being an asshole, but I'm actually drowning? I don't think so. But that may be depression again.

I want to be me again.
I want to be me all the time, not just when my pain is napping.
I want to be happy all the time, because frankly, some of the time is not cutting it.

It's like sleepwalking through a quarter of my life. Another quarter is like I'm being chased by a T-Rex, and in constant danger. The third quarter feels as if there are bullies in my head putting me down after every thought forms. Finally, I have one more quarter of my life where I can be myself and be happy.

I want to be myself 100% of the time, and I'm working on it. Blogging helps. Talking helps. Family helps. Friends help. Planning things help. Eating better and drinking more water helps. But I'm not quite there yet.

I'm not on medication and I'm not currently seeing a professional because of work hours. At the end of September I will be able to set up time for behavioral health so I can start seeing a shrink. However, I don't feel like they can help me. I've tried and I've been diagnosed. I've been diagnosed with Type 2 Bipolar, Depression, &Anxiety. But I was prescribed lithium, two mood stabilizers, and xanax after one 45 minute visit and we didn't even talk about the real issues. I'm weary but maybe medication is what I need right now.

I'll update with how I'm doing, but for now, I'm just trying to live day by day and surround myself with people who understand and love me. For many of my friends this is all unspoken knowledge. I have always been the crazy one - but before it was mosh pit, dance with strangers, run through the graveyard at night crazy. Now it's cry alone, ignore invites, and freak out because it's too hot or crowded crazy.

Thank you for this of you who silently support me even when I don't talk about it. And for the friends who never ask me to explain myself. Love you guys.

Photo cred to: dezandcarol.com/depression

August Challenge!

For this month, I've assigned myself three challenges.

One- The Plank Challenge: This one is really hard for me. TMI: They hurt my c-section scar. It's been 3 years and it still hurts. Ugh. Anyway, I'm determined to make myself stronger.

Two- 30 Days of new recipes. Actually 27 days, because I'm getting a late start. I love Pinterest because I've gotten so many awesome ideas from friends, however, I'm more of a Pinterest Fail kinda person. I'm whole heartedly excited to try new recipes as I love cooking, I'm just usually not good at it. I will keep you guys updated!

Three- Create a preschool lesson plan for Autumn. Since I plan on homeschooling her, I need to get started since she just turned three!

What about you guys? Any challenges you are giving yourself? Let me know!

No! I don't want anymore kids.

I'm not saying it's forever.
I just don't want another one.
I don't think I ever will, but you never say never.

Autumn is cute. She's beautiful, actually. She's a big ball of freakin' sunshine... to everyone else. She's always happy (unless she's mad) and she's very quirky. I'll be honest, my kid is magnetic. People love to be around her. They spend some time with her and then they ask "Are you having anymore?"

I laugh. The biggest, sarcastic, mean laugh that I can muster, and respond "Are you kidding me? Never. Nope. Heeellllll no."

I always get the "look" (you know that "you make adorable babies please make more" look) and they proceed to tell me WHY I need another kid:

1. "But she's sooooo cute" (...and evil)
2. "She needs a sibling, she'll get lonely." (...or get less attention)
3.  "You're going to miss her being a baby." (...really? I was dying for the day she could walk while holding my hand so I wouldn't have to carry her while I did everything)
4. "You need a boy!" (psssh. Like I have the money for genetic modification to make this happen.)
... and the oddest one I've heard:
5. "But I had a dream you had 4 kids!" (because I should just hop on board to make your premonition come true, right?)

Although all of these are very good reasons (sarcasm)  to have another child, here are my serious (kinda) reasons as to why I don't want to and probably won't do it again:

1. Pregnancy sucks. It sucks ass. Some women are super cute, bubbly, and glowing.... not me. I hated everything about it. I didn't look pregnant til, like, 3 days before my due date. So I just looked like a really whiney fat person the whole time. Also, the pain from the first trimester was God awful. I would complain to the doctor and he would tell me it's my uterus growing. Well, your uterus growing is like cramps on 'roids and it sucks. Also, I carried so low the whole time that by 6 months, even though I didn't look pregnant, I felt very pregnant and very heavy. This caused tremendous cramps, which the doctor told me was just my ligaments stretching. All of this body stretching and growing sucks. Not fun. Also the ultrasounds... yeah those suck too. You know why? Because you're bladder is full with a million ounces of water and you have to hold it while waiting for the xray tech to be ready, and of course, the little baby in your uterus is jumping on it the whole time. Then, the doctor pushes and shoves on your bladder region. I peed a little one time. It was equal amounts of embarassing and gross.

2. My labor still traumatizes me and my birth still causes pain. I went into labor on the 27th of July. I started feeling the pain on the night of the 26th, but I was ready to go to the hospital on the 27th. I got to the hospital and my water broke. They put me in a room and convinced me to get an epidural. I swear to you, every intention I had was a natural birth with NO epidural. However, they told me I'd be too tired to push since I was up all night in pain. So, exhausted I got the epdirual early in the day. The epidural stopped my contractions. The doctor didn't want to induce them because "there were too many women in labor and no on-call delivery doctors." The epdirual freaked me out and I had them turn it off. I didn't like the feeling of not feeling. So basically, I got the epidural, it stopped my labor, and I hated the way it felt so I turned it off and went back to feeling pain. For nothing. Then, I fell asleep in between contractions. The next morning, the doctor says "ok! we have more staff!" and gives me petocin to start my contractions again. I start contracting. I start pushing. I push for almost 8 hours on and off. NO baby. While she was sitting in a dry womb that, at one point, was pushing her out, and then, wasn't pushing her out. This caused her to turn "sunny side up." Apparently, babies only come out face down, which was news to me. I kept trying to push and her heart rate dropped so they had to whisk me off to emergency c-section. Horrifying. I couldn't hold her. I couldn't be with her. I had to just lie there, while hearing the doctor tell me he "couldn't stop the bleeding." Dead. I'm pretty sure at some point I left my body.

3. I can't handle more than one Autumn. Or one angel child plus Autumn. I actually can't even deal with Autumn, some days. There are moms out there who are able to spread themselves equally to each child, whereas I can't even spread my love to anyone besides her. Two days after she was born I just looked at her dad and told him that I really didn't think I had enough love in me to love anyone else besides her, including him. Also, I don't have the patience for anything besides her. I mean I barely have the patience for her... so.... yeah. No more kids, please. I would probably have a complete melt down. I have pretty bad anxiety and I sometimes feel myself seperating from sanity as it is. It wouldn't be fair. It wouldn't be nice to bring another kid into this. She's hyper and loud, and makes me batty. I think if my next child was a saint, they'd be ignored while I tended to Autumn's antics or if they were just as "eccentric" as Autumn, I'd die.

4. It's not financially responsible. I can make it on my own but I have a 2002 car and I'm living in a *decent* part of town in a ONE BEDROOM APARTMENT. By *decent* I mean I don't technically live in the hood, I like to consider it "historical" however, my mom saw my apartment and said "Brittany! If I would've seen this before you moved I would have told you not to move." Also, she will text me when she hears "booms" from my Grandma's house who lives a few blocks away. But really, it's not that bad. We have really nice neighbors who keep an eye on our place and I haven't seen any real crime besides bums loitering by the no loitering sign. Right now, Autumn does have everything she could ever want and more. Plus, I'm able to pay my bills without things getting shut off and such. However, not having to pay for baby food, possibly formula, diapers, and wipes is such a relief. I can't imagine doing it all over again. 

6. I really am not a huge fan of kids. I love my kid, because, you know, she's cool. However, she's very different from other kids. What if I have another kid and they're a boring or annoying kid?! I mean, I wouldn't be mean, and I would still love them, but my kid is really awesome! She does funny stuff and has such a crazy personality. Other kids are just... kids. Some may be cute, and some may be funny, but Autumn is a nutcase, and I love her that way. The more kids I have means more friends for them when they get older... more school functions.... more birtday parties... NO! No more kids. I seriously was an outcast for so much of my elementary years because I just really didn't get along with kids. 



Lately, Autumn has been requesting a new baby sister of me, and  I just can't.
Although when she started asking two weeks ago, I thought it was cute... at first.
Then I saw her put her baby doll in a plastic bag and shove it in a drawer, telling it to "stop crying" and my mind returned to "Hell no."

Confession: I'm fat, and I'm not sad about it.

I know, it's not really a confession. What I am confessing is that I am fat, and I'm not sad about it. Fat isn't an insult. It is  It is an accurate description. Do I feel ugly? No. Do I think I'm unworthy of things because of my size? No. But that hasn't always been the case. 

Recently, body positivity has been a hot topic. Oh how I wish it had happened 6-10 years ago when I was struggling with body image in high school! We need to keep it up, keep promoting body positivity! Stop telling women what they can and can't wear! Stop telling what colors, sizes, patterns, designs, lengths, or brands to wear! Now that I've accepted who I am, I've been able to see that all women are beautiful. I love seeing women comfortable in their own skin. I don't believe that there are shorts too short for certain sizes. I don't believe that crop tops are for skinny girls only. It's  hot as hell- wear what keeps you comfortable and cool! Confidence is beautiful. Kindness is beautiful. Being judgemental or vain is NOT beautiful. Being HATEFUL IS NOT BEAUTIFUL.

Here's a little information about my fat-ness.

I've been fat since high school.

I am definitely bigger now than I've ever been but I have to admit- I've never been more comfortable with who I am, until now.

When I was 100 lbs lighter I was still considered over weight but I was also bitter and jealous. Not only did I hate that my body wasn't like the smaller girls, I also hated the smaller girls for not being fat. I was ashamed of myself. I wore sweaters in the summer (which, if you're from Fresno, you know is suicidal) and I hid behind over sized clothes. Little did I know, 6 years later I'd give ANYTHING to be a size 14 again. I had been taught that my body was ugly and that I must be doing something wrong because I was big. That self hatred turned outwards and I started to hate anyone I thought was better looking- and by better looking, I mean thin.

What I didn't know was that at a size 14, I was physically healthy and mentally unhealthy. I was so obsessed with being "ugly" I didn't realize that I was actually in shape. At the time I was in three dance classes, in color guard, and an active mosh pit participant every weekend. I could run up stairs, I could dance for hours, I could fight, I could circle pit, I never felt that I was physically limited. However, I limited myself by being afraid of my size.

Now I'm a size 24 and I'm actually finding difficulties in doing the things I used to do. I'm unhealthy because I've been slacking. Why? Because in 2007 I was diagnosed with PCOS. Despite all the running and dancing I did, I was gaining what seemed like a pound a day. My mom became worried by senior year of high school, where the doctor diagnosed me with poly cystic ovarian syndrome. Since then I've been told, without the help of medication, it would be difficult for me to lose weight.

Because of this,  I gave up trying to be healthy for a while. I figured,  if I can't lose weight why would I kill myself trying? I finally realized that even though I wasn't going to be able to LOSE weight, I had to keep an effort to be HEALTHY and that size did not determine whether I was healthy or beautiful. 

This realization has also helped me become mentally healthy! I'm no longer envious of anyone else's body and I'm no longer hiding myself! If I want to swim, I am going to swim dammit! And no, I won't wear board shorts and a shirt because that shit is not comfortable to swim in!

I'm so proud that I can say - in a totally non sexual way- when a woman is effing gorgeous. I support women in all shapes sizes and colors. I support wearing a size 18 bikini or a size 20 crop top the same way I support a size 0 monokini and a size 4 crop top. I support your face full of amazing make up or your face with not a drop of moisturizer. I support your beautiful natural hair and your extensions! I love all of it! Women are strong, resilient, beautiful, & powerful! Why would I judge a women because her short shorts showed cellulite? Why would I be envious of the girl with ABS? They're both capable of being a valuable part of society and they're both beautiful!

Body positivity is more than being happy with the skin you're in. It's women being kind to one another. Not just fat women, but all women. It's  about loving yourself so you can appreciate what other women have to offer you.

Love yourself, so you can love others. Isn't that some cliché quote?

My favorite quote is about all of this is:

"One woman's beauty is not the lack of your own."
Ain't that the truth.
Love you ladies! You're all gorgeous!

Oh p.s. #effyourbeautystandards

Hello, Tantrum Three's.

When Autumn started walking I exclaimed loudly that my life just got a million times harder. I was told it was just the beginning. 
When Autumn first yelled "No!" at something I had asked her to do, or rather, not do, I shook my head and laughed.
When Autumn started to refuse to do anything but the opposite that we asked of her, I was introduced to the terrible two's. 

Just last week, a month before her third birthday, I become fully aware of TANTRUM THREE'S.

Holy Hell.

I remember when I was pregnant and I would see kids crying in the shopping cart, chair, floor, wherever, and thinking "I'll never let my kid cry like that. I'll just hold her and she'll stop." 

Yeah. Right.

The first time she threw a tantrum went like this:

Autumn open's the hallway closet and see's her collectible retro toys. 
*pointing to the top shelf*
Autumn: "Daddy daddy daddy daddy gimme my toys!"
Daddy: "Ok Autumn, give me a second, my hands are full."
Autumn: *throws self on floor* *starts kicking floor* *screaming*
Daddy: *looks at me*
Me: *looks at him*
Me: "Autumn, get up, come here, he didn't even say no! Come here, come play with your toys."
Autumn: *kicking* *screaming*
Me: "Aw, come here Autumn." *giggle* "Let me hold you. Calm down, it's ok!"

That's when I learned my lesson. 

I reached down to pick her up and she bit my arm, spit on me, and then continued to scream.

A few explicitives later, I sat down on the couch, open pinterest, and ignored her. 

Ten minutes later, she crawled on the couch, cuddled under my arm while holding her toys like a baby, and that was that.

Now, this phase should be fun. It'll test every last nerve that I have. I know I can ignore it, but I can't ignore it in public. Which happened the night before 4th of July. Except this time it was at a water park, after dark, and in the restroom. The waterpark announced the fireworks, and of course, we have to go to the bathroom. So Autumn and I head over there and as we walk in the bathroom the fireworks start to go off. Autumn gets so scared that she begins to army crawl under the stalls on the nasty wet bathroom floor and then locks herself in the stall. This continues for quite some time until, like the great parent I am, I scared her by telling her a monster was in the toilet. Once she got out she was so dirty that I stuck her whole body in the sink and used hand soap to clean her off. By the time I was done, everyone was leaving the park and the fireworks were over.

Needless to say, I was over her at that point. 

There's about half a dozen other crazy moments she's had in the past week, but I'm exhausted from being up all night, because obviously her new sleeping schedule has her awake all night, so I won't go into it. 

We're having a rough patch, apparently. 
I just want sleep.
and more sleep.