ourginmadeoftears

[ourginmadeoftears]

The lyric “I’m still angry at my parents for what their parents did to them” hits different when you’re an adult child of an alcoholic who was a product of their environment.

[ourginmadeoftears]

Sometimes it’s so hard to keep going.

I fail more often than I succeed. I do more harm than good. I try very hard only to fall short on every situation and every circumstance.

I don’t have anymore grace to give myself.

[ourginmadeoftears]

Happy Birthday, I guess

[ourginmadeoftears]

Nothing I do is ever good enough.

No matter how hard I try.

[ourginmadeoftears]

There are times that I find myself wanting desperately for you to love me more than you love yourself.

But I couldn’t imagine my life where I called you just to talk to you, or tell you how I’m feeling when I need advice.

I can’t imagine my life where you’re more than just an existing factor.

And that makes me feel immense guilt.

[ourginmadeoftears]

I can feel it, in the pit of my stomach and in my chest.

Something doesn’t feel right. I feel a little like I’m drowning again.

There isn’t enough air in my lungs to keep me afloat.

I keep saying that I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown and I can’t tell if that’s what it is or if every feeling I’ve stuffed down for 28 years is starting to crawl it’s way out.

Either way, I’m a ticking time bomb. And I don’t like it.

[ourginmadeoftears]

How do you celebrate the birthday of a narcissist when ever other day of the year is still about them?

It’s exhausting.

[ourginmadeoftears]

I’m so tired and sad.

I’m also tired of being tired and sad.

[ourginmadeoftears]

I’m trying so hard, in so many ways to tell my husband that our trauma does not belong to our daughter.

Growing up, I didn’t know my dad had trauma. I didn’t know that was why he did the things he did. The ONLY thing that I knew was that he was angry. He was a horribly angry person, and I had to and would always have to tiptoe around him to keep him happy. I didn’t know that his trauma was the reason for his drinking, I thought it was because he didn’t love me enough to stop.

Our daughter doesn’t know that we have trauma caused by our own parents. The one thing that she will know is how we cope with it. When we are triggered, we can’t expect our daughter to understand that and to excuse our actions.

If we want to break the cycle of emotionally immature parents, there will be sometimes that we need to put our feelings aside and make sure that she understands her own feelings and emotions. We need to put our feelings aside and make sure her needs are met.

But he just doesn’t get it. And if he brushes me off again in an attempt to be “right”, a storm is coming.

[ourginmadeoftears]

I heard these words for the first time just 3 days ago. So if you haven’t heard them yet either:

“You are more than your mistakes.”

“Just because you made a mistake, doesn’t make you any less deserving of love.”

[ourginmadeoftears]

Today my feelings are balled into my chest like tinfoil. They aren’t weighing me down, but they are taking up space with jagged edges that are creating small holes.

How do I fill those holes?

[ourginmadeoftears]

It’s been a rough one. I wish I could make it make sense. This is going to be long, and im honestly just trying to type it out so that I can make sense of it. I know that there are so many people out there who have it worse than me, and I feel terrible to complain. I’m just really emotional and I am looking for an outlet.

I had a csection on Thursday and it went so smoothly. My baby was perfect. My stay in mother/baby went well. I was over the moon. We went home on Saturday the and we worked hard to adjust to newborn life. It was going well until…

That following Tuesday (5 days after having my baby) I was feeding her at home when I got the most intense abdominal pressure I had ever felt. I took what was prescribed to me and after an hour it didn’t touch it. My pain had actually gotten worse.

We ran to a local ER. I was short of breath, I couldn’t breathe, I was sobbing and crying out in pain at this point. Barely able to get out of the car. I went up to the window and checked in. The poor woman working the desk was terrified and tried to get me a bed immediately, and one of her supervisors came out to talk to her and I could see them pointing to me… we sat for 20 minutes. I was doubled over- still crying, still gasping for air. I had made sure to tell them that I was 5 days postpartum. I made sure to tell them that I’m having severe pain from a major abdominal surgery. I made sure to tell them I just had a baby.

I had my husband go and ask how much longer it would be. The woman told us over an hour, and there were 14 people in line ahead of me. He got me back to the car, and we ended up driving a little over an hour to the hospital that I delivered at. There, I sat in the waiting room for maybe three minutes, they took my vitals, saw that I was emergent, and had me in a room within 5 minutes. 

What we originally thought was an infection of my incision site turned out to be an infection in my uterine lining (or postpartum endometritis). No one has told me what could have caused it, or why it was me that got it. My stomach was so swollen to the touch it- was unbearable. I couldn’t move or bend without yelling out for days.

I also tested positive for parainfluenza while I was in the ER. Which is terrifying because I have been the person taking care of my sweet bean the most. Heck, the only places I have been were my house, the hospital, and the pediatrician.

I sent my husband to the doctor several days later when he started feeling bad so that he could be tested and he came back positive too. So now, on top of caring extra for me, we need to be unbelievably cautious around baby now too.

The only thing I can think of is that the universe is random and mean. My hormones have been horrible since delivery and I haven’t stopped crying. Before all this happened, all I could think was, “my body hurts so much and it’s making me miss out on all of the precious days where she will never be this little again.” I felt like I was taking it for granted. And then this happens and I’ve literally missed out on days of her life. I heard a new cry that she never did before now. She turned a week old and I wasn’t even there with her.

I feel broken.

[ourginmadeoftears]

As a mandated reporter, I made my first phone call to the Child Abuse and Neglect Hotline.

It was terrifying and heartbreaking.

She told me about her alcoholic dad, and I wanted more than anything in that moment to pull her close and tell her that I understand. But I couldn’t do that.

I wanted to tell her all the things that no one ever said to me:

“There is more than one kind of abuse.”

“You are more than your fathers drinking.”

“None of this is your fault.”

“He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

But I didn’t. And I couldn’t.

I did tell her that I’d work on finding people that she could talk to, counselors and administrators, that will help her figure out her feelings and cope with them.

I cried after hanging up the phone. I felt so small.

This tiny human was so brave. Why was I never that brave?

Why did no one ever see my signs?

How did I not see the signs in her before she told me?

Today, I can’t find the words to articulate how I feel.

[ourginmadeoftears]

I lifted my own spirits so that I could lift yours.

I finally felt good, light on me feet, cheery even.

Then, “I won’t repeat myself more than once”.

With one sentence I’m back to that same feeling I had in bed today. Where the weight of it all made me sink.

[ourginmadeoftears]

10 years.

As of today, I’ve spent 3,658 days without you.

This disorientation can’t possibly last eternity.

I find myself still taking mental note of the things I think you’d find funny.

I find it weird to think I’ve created a whole life for myself that you aren’t apart of. With people in it who don’t know you, and can’t possibly understand that the quirks and the quick wit that they find sweet or funny only exist because you existed.

How is this fair?

If they could have fixed you, how much longer could I have gotten with you?

This constant search for you is impossible: you’re gone, but I’m still hoping to find you in everything I do. I think that’s the hardest part.

[ourginmadeoftears]

Sometimes the resemblance is striking.

Too striking.

It pulls me under and I. Can’t. Breathe.

I know you’re not the person who broke me, but it’s times like now I feel the same way I did back then.