To Hell With Stilettos

Hormones do me wrong

2011-06-26T07:17:00.000-07:00

I stopped breastfeeding a few months ago. My hormones are beginning to settle and my head is back where it should! I feel I'm in such a better place then I was back in March.

I'm happy, the kids are great, my J is nice and loving. Seems like all is settling. I should do a recap on all of these last months soon. I think I will. Someday.

One more try

2011-03-21T18:50:00.000-07:00

Im not sure I need to vent, I'm not sure I want to write. I know I keep saying I'll come back and I never do...

I feel the dark coming back... That same dark that had me on antidepressants before I got pregnant? Yeah, I feel it, see it. It's looming in the dark. Close enough to touch, far enough that I can forget about it for a day or so. But inevitably, it comes back. It's funny because, knowing my parents, I should know how to deal with this, but really I'm scared to face it. I don't want a label. Or rather i want only one label: normal. Whatever that means?
I hit 30 the other day and it's hitting me like a ton of bricks.

It's this hard to deal with because I have so many things to deal with. The weight, the loneliness, the jealousy, the isolation, the overeating and the list goes on...

I'm getting swallowed by mommy me... I forget who I am. That's not really original is it? Not that I'm trying to be. I know right now I totally lost myself. It makes bad at my job. My mommy job. I scream at the 5yo, I don't play enough with the baby... I'm not perfect. Why do i need control so much? What the heck is wrong, that I need all to be my way or no way? Thing is, it never goes my way or the way I saw it in my plans. And I always end up disappointed.

It was my problem then. Feelings of worthlessness, my inadequacies. I start so many things, I wanna do such much. But i always end up not finishing or doing nothing...

Ok, enough self loathing for tonight... See you soon I hope...

A new perspective, a new life.

2010-10-01T16:55:00.000-07:00

My last post dates back a month before my life was forever altered...so allow me to situate everything and then I can start over!

My pregnancy did work JUST fine! As I write these words, I have an absolute joy of 2 month old girl sleeping in her swing. So, YEY! That went fine! My christmas went fine and all fell into place. In retrospect, I think my depression was a cumulation of many bad circumstances, bad events and to some extent, lack of support. Loneliness is an ugly beast, isn't it?

So I began this blog page last year, hoping it'd help me vent. I realize now, that it only made me bitch and moan and air shit that didn't belong out there in the first place. I could (should) remove them, but I figure a new chapter is a new chapter. I start over and this is going to be my reminder of the ugly.

When I left Haiti on January 10th, after a wonderful christmas vacation, I had no idea that, to this day, it would be the last time I'd set foot there. I said my goodbyes to my friends and family knowing full well, that I'd be back by May in order to be with my family when I gave birth. The universe had a slightly different plan for everyone.

The months that followed were tough. The day after the earthquake, my J was flown out with other from his company to go asses the damage. He was gone for over a month. A month of stress,news of aftershocks, bad communication and absolute fear for him and my family... Up until last week, I was still hearing of a friend that had past away that day. As I count the days to when I get to go back to see my country, I also brace myself for the shock that I haven't lived yet. The shock of having everything you know destroyed. I can prepare myself for it, but I know I'll never be truly ready for it.

So even though I can't promise to be peppy all the time, that's just NOT me! I will check myself before I get all "doomsday"-y, dark again.

Till I come back, have a great weekend, y'all!

When it rains, it pours...

2009-12-10T13:27:00.000-08:00

So I said I would write, and I never did. But I do have some very valid excuses, or rather, valid reasons...

Excuses are not pretty, but reasons sound more professional...

In the interest of honesty towards you strangers, I'm gonna tell y'all ALL about it today... so here I go:

Mid October, I had a miscarriage. Boo-hoo... don't get me wrong, it was a very traumatic, scary and sad event, but it was just another sad event to add up to the '09 fall events for me. A month earlier, I buried my grand-father, who really was the best and closest thing I had to a dad all my life.

So yeah, I depressed. The whole was deep and it was dark. My J and I kept fighting or rather, I kept looking for reasons to make him hate me. My little She-devil got on my nerves and my patience was wearing REALLY thin... I felt completely overwhelmed and cried everyday. It was really hard, and still is.

So here it goes, last week I went to my ob/gyn because I was feeling all but normal down-there. Turns out I was already over 4 weeks preggo! How that happened? I. don't. know.

Well I know how I got there, but I don't know how it's physically possible. Anyways, on that same day, my J was on his way to his uncle's, one of the men I admire most in life, funeral. And I had to stay back with She-devil...

So? it may be a blessing in disguise, you say. Well it would if the fetus was developing properly... and according to doc dearest, I have 25% chance of miscarriage AGAIN! Cause, you know, it's really what I feel I can handle right now!

So yeah this whole therapeutic blogging thing just isn't working as I had imagined. Maybe I should just find a subject for this rather then just rant... but then again, it feels nice to put it out there...

This was supposed to be easier.

2009-12-02T10:08:00.000-08:00

So I wake up one day and say "why don't I start a blog?" I figured it would give me something to do, a way to pass time, express myself and all. But then suddenly, I find myself with the worse writer's block period I've experienced EVER. Suddenly, nothing I can come up with is good enough for the internets... Everyday, since my last (and second) post, I sit at my computer once everybody has been dropped off, and I stare at the screen.

And it stares back. Mocking. Taunting. Daring me to put myself out there.

And then today, just as I had forgotten about this whole "blogging" ordeal, I go to it to see that somebody read it, liked it and commented on it!!! WOAH! Cool! *pops collar*

So if I'm gonna do this right, and I don't really know what that means, I know I have to be honest, open about what's going on in my life and try to decide whether this should be anonymous or not... Of course, i can take my pic off later on if it comes to this, but for now, I think I'm pretty safe. I should maybe discuss it with my J. But he's dealing with some bigger things these days, so I'll put off talking to him about it.

So this is me, saying : Hello again, Internets!!!! I'll be back tomorrow! Promise!

La suite: A bullet point presentation of all the ways I suck.

2009-11-16T12:20:00.000-08:00

-I strive to be a good cook, I really do. I really want to make a GOOD meal, I swear. It doesn’t have to look good; it would just have to taste good. Is that too much to ask? I make great desserts I know that. But honestly, can my butt endure to see me eat that other slice of chocolate cake? And I can’t actually feed the family dessert only. So, I keep trying. And I keep humiliating myself over and over. Day-in, day-out. Whatever. Thank goodness for Mac-and-Cheese and my J’s patience.

-Since I can’t cook, I keep the house tidy and neat right? Wrong! I have the organizational skills of a 2 year old. My roaches and dust balls are tidier than I am. I can’t throw things away; I can’t put things back where they belong. I suck. I remember seeing an episode of Oprah once, where she said something along those lines: “If I buy this, will it have a home in my home?” or “ Does this object have a home?” Well my problem is simple. Nothing has a home in my home. I don’t have a home in my home. Things are just stored, left and right, quietly waiting for their judgment day (AKA: the day I will look at’em, pic’em up, dust’em up and …put’em in the back in a drawer somewhere… yeah, I know, I’m badass!)

-At least, my nails are always looking good, no? Well, yes and no. Considering that my J has a thing for toes, I really try to keep’em looking good. But sometimes, I really can’t be bothered, you know? Besides, who has the time to sit in a chair for 2 hours straight while some stranger fondles my hands and feet and soaks them in soapy water? Well, I do, but damn it, I don’t have the patience. I like having pretty colored nails, mind you. I just hate putting in the effort. I get bored too quick and I never know what to say to aforementioned stranger. I don’t like strangers. Well, it’s not that I don’t like them; I just have nothing to say to them. So it’s just an awkward experience. So if my nails look bad, the polish is cracked and ugly, just figure I’m in one of those moods… it never lasts longer then 3 weeks…

-My J is the best indeed. I can’t deny that. Of course he’s human, so he does and says things that get on my nerves sometimes. But mostly, he always right. And that gets on my nerves, because for someone other then me to always be right is a crime. It’s not normal, he should not be allowed and if he ever reads this, he should know that I only wrote this for his eyes, to make him think he’s actually always right you know, to stroke his ego? The other version of these ramblings (the one not for my J’s eyes) says much, much different things. Anyhow… he always says the things that make sense, he’s reasonable, giving and forgiving. I, on the other hand, am none of those things. He is smart, too smart actually, and he has enough balls to call me on my bullshit. And that takes balls-o’steal, and he has’em. And I respect and love him for that. But now that I’m thinking about it, he’s not perfect, he snores! Like a lawnmower… Take that, my perfect J…

-My daughter. The she-devil-from-hell. The one-who-was-spawned-from-the-fiery-depths-of-hell… don’t get me wrong, she is so sweet, endearing, nice, polite, well-mannered, gentle, patient, quiet, calm…with STRANGERS! All I get is compliments for her great behavior. That’s not half bad, right? It means I’m at least half-assing the whole child rearing thing, if she can behave in public, right? *sigh* Well, it would also be kind of cool if she was half as nice to me as she is to others… But hey, no matter what I do, whether I’m the perfect mom or not, whether I do it all well or not, she will always end blaming me for all that is wrong twenty-some years from now. No matter what I do, I’ll be a subject of conversation on a sofa somewhere. So, what’s a mommy to do if she’s gonna mess it up anyways? I say take a nap… But I adore her more then anything in the universe. Isn’t nature great? You create monsters that you’re in love with, because you’d otherwise destroy them…wonderful!

So yeah, Im a mess...I’m full of good intentions I promise I never mean any harm but I feel like I always end up fucking up, you know what I mean? All my best efforts always end up looking like I farted all over the ones I love.

Let's make this a 2-part first post.

2009-11-16T11:30:00.000-08:00

Hi Internets!

Since this is my first ever post, EVER, I figured you'd like to get to know me... So here it goes!

I always thought I would be the perfect everything…perfect mom, perfect wife, perfect cook, perfect party thrower, perfect sister, perfect daughter, perfect, perfect, perfect… It never occurred to me that I would actually need help at playing mommy, or need practice to be “sexy-wifey” or have to give up on feeding people properly altogether! For some reason, it never occurred to me, that my less-then-perfect-childhood would be an obstacle of any kind. How could it be? It should actually guide me and enable me to obtain my coveted title. Goodness, was I ever wrong.

Somewhere down the line though, and that certainly didn’t help, I got lazy. Or maybe I got distracted, or careless, or…I don’t know. Somehow, the years passed and I had done nothing in particular, achieved absolutely nothing noteworthy, and given up on my artistic side for no other reason then that I got mad at my pen one day.
School was of no interest, working was ok, going out and drinking was fun but even that seemed to grow old real quick. I got in the bad habit of always being attached, often to the wrong guy, and for too long. I guess I was just spoiled rotten…

I am really not sure how that could’ve happened, though. Growing up, we were borderline poor, or at least, never had much money left over for my desires or me. I recall stealing 40 bucks from my dad’s wallet to buy panties… he never noticed. But in the family domain, I didn’t really have it bad. My brother? That’s another story.
So how did I get spoiled? I have no clue. I never got everything I wanted. EVER. I couldn’t talk back to my parents unless I enjoyed being smacked upside the head. I did it once. Lost a tooth. Or maybe I’m not spoiled; maybe I just don’t care for anything. But the thought of being so careless that I would have no ambition, that I would have no drive for anything other then napping, and even that’s a fetch… It’s just that I was always told how special I was, how smart I was, how much potential I had… No one ever cared to check if I had drive. So all that potential, these smarts, that specialness… all gone… to waste.

Add to that the fact that I have no particular talent and my story becomes a true tearjerker. But then again, I guess not having any talent just makes me average. And being average seems like a crime to me. Why? I’m not exactly sure. Maybe because average means I’m like most people, and I really don’t want to be like most. Maybe because I feel that deep down, I have a purpose, I just can’t figure out what the hell it is. Maybe also because I feel like I’m wasting away, and that’s got to be a sign for something. I mean, if I really where so useless and meaningless and disposable, would I actually be aware of it? Shit, I hope not. That would really suck balls, wouldn’t it? So. Am I average or am special? What does that mean anyway? I’m just being existential right now, so enough of that. That particular question gives me a headache because I can never find the proper answer for me. So let’s move on, shall we?

In my dreams –illusions, utopia, follies- of perfection, I have none of those questions. They are useless to me. I’m always perfectly happy, dinner is always pretty and delicious, the house is always clean, my nails are always manicured (and pedicured), my J is the best, my daughter is always polite and nice, I’m always cool, calm and collected, and bla bla bleh…

In real life, it’s a tad messier. I’ll make it a point by point of the issues mentioned above.
(to be continued)