Self esteem? What self esteem?

I think it’s time to stop thinking of myself as ugly.

I have an actual phobia of seeing pictures of myself, because I can usually spot 18 different flaws within 5 seconds. I hate the way I look. The only reason I haven’t taken drastic measures to change my physical appearance is due to financial constraints. If I had the funds, first thing done would be getting my teeth fixed and whitened. Next would probably be the boobs – 2 pregnancies have left a pair of deflated balloons in place of my once perky assets. Next I’d consider a chin tuck and eye lift. Jesus, I sound like I’m 50. It’s pathetic – I’m 31 and I look 40 something.

I’ve never been one of those women who can throw on “any old thing”, do a light brushing of makeup, tousle my hair and be on my way. Getting ready for me is reaching into the double digit numbers – make sure I can wear a bra (no strapless or spaghetti straps) to keep the girls in place. Can’t wear anything too tight for fear of muffin top (ok, CAKE top). Actually, xnay the tanks because of my fat arms. Shorts – HAHAHAHA, that’s funny. No one wants to see that. I wear JEANS to the BEACH. Make sure to keep my hair down so it covers part of my face so I don’t scare small children. Have to put on concealer to hide the dark circles and bags under my eyes, even though it doesn’t really work. Add eyeliner so I don’t look sick. Lipstick to make my teeth look brighter and not so dull. And I’m not even good at makeup application.

How does this tie into my recent loss? Well, it's all about self-esteem. And I have NONE. For a long time, although I felt my daughter didn't deserve this, I did.  I actually believe(d) that I have nothing positive to offer anyone, physically, emotionally, mentally, etc.  That my misfortune was the result of past sins, all mine, and my unhappiness is/was all my own doing.  There's a lot of background I won't get into, but I was conditioned to think this way from a young age.  That nothing bad just happens to people, there is a cosmic balance that dictates fate and consequences.  Even though my brain is screaming at me that it's not true - look at the people who suck and seemingly "have it all" - I've never been able to shake the belief that it's true in my case.  Like I'm special or something - the universe isn't keeping tabs on anyone but me, and only in the negative.  All my positives are wiped clear each time I screw up.  I feel the same about my progress in healing and recovering - doesn't matter if I have 5 fantastic, productive days in a row - a bad 15 minutes will set me right back to zero or negative.  Sisyphus would feel relieved upon gazing at the size of my boulder.

And now I'm in a wedding.  I've been working out and trying to look better (I can't say good, because "better" is all I really have to aim for) and it's not working.  I can't see any results.  Wish I had a shawl to hide my fat arms in this halter-top dress.  Oh, great, I get to wear heels in front of a crowd, and bare my legs.  You've seen the hippos in Fantasia, right?  Fantastic.  And with the awesome, non-judgmental media perception that mothers should lost their baby weight by the time they leave the frickin hospital, I have a lot of pressure on me.

I think because Coraline is gone, people forget that I'm still post-partum.  I went through 8 months of pregnancy, then labor and birth, then having my milk come in and dry up within a week.  Weeks of healing and pain and trauma and anguish - having a body I didn't recognize anymore.  New stretch marks, and no baby to hold.

Keeping Busy

I’m forcing myself, and I think I’ve taken on more than I can handle.

Work is full time, that’s a no-brainer.  Not that its stressful, but its 10 hours (including commute time) out of my day that I could be doing other things.  Yes, it puts money in my wallet, but it’s just generally awful.  

School started back up – I’m taking two classes on shortened, 8-week semesters.  I took Philosophy on a lark, thinking it’d be an easy A.  Pfft.  I’m a very literal, logical, rational person, and I just can’t get behind the mamsy-pansy head trips some of these guys are on.  “Cogito ero sum – I think therefore I am.”  Really???  That’s all you’ve got, huh?  Someone postulates the question “How do you know you exist” and you basically answer with “Because.”  Descartes is the used-car salesman of philosophers – I do NOT like him.  Aquinas is tolerable, if you understand from the beginning that he’s all gung-ho for Jesus.  Not that I necessarily agree with him, but I get it.  I get his reasoning and the reasons behind his reasoning.  Descartes… classic gaslighter.  “Why?”  “Because.  I’m deep.  I’m on a different level.  I’d tell you to get on my level, but you can’t cause I’m so deep.”  “Well, explain yourself.”  “Uh.. uh… because GOD.”  And he’s lauded for that throughout the centuries?

I'm just stressed and freaking out about everything.  

I'll see you in my dreams

I had a dream about Coraline last night.  In it, she was a few months old, chubby and bubbly with blue eyes, curly wispy hair, a drooly smile and an absolutely infectious baby giggle.  I bounced her on my hip down the long hallway and into our bedroom, where Matt was just waking up.  I put her on the bed so she could crawl to him.  He rolled over and smiled the biggest grin as Coraline made her way towards him.  It was the best, most bittersweet thing ever.  I know I'll never have that, not with her, but maybe one day we will with her brother or sister.

I just miss her so so much.  I told Matt about my dream and inadvertently made him cry at work.  Every time I think of it, I tear up.  It's not fair - it's not fair that I'll never hold her at 3, 6, 9 months old, never take her to preschool or kindergarten, never fight with her the first time she gets gum stuck in her hair or pick out her first homecoming dress with her.  It hurts more than I could imagine.  But I feel like I now have that beautiful memory, one that I was robbed of in reality.

She had blue eyes.  I never actually saw her eyes open, but I know they were blue.

I want to take the dream as a sign that I'm ready to move forward - that we're ready, that we should start planning for another baby.  But I'm not quite there yet mentally.  I still want to get all my ducks in a row so I can be totally prepared, again, to go through 9 months of anxiety and frantic waiting.  But seeing the smile on my husband's face in that dream - feeling the absolute joy of holding that squishy baby, my baby, my Coraline - I would go through all of it again for that chance.  I would walk through fire to bring Coraline back here, and I'll do it for her brother or sister as well.

I love you Coraline, so much, more than I ever got to show you.  I will make you proud of us, our whole family.  Thank you for giving me that beautiful memory, thank you for coming to me and comforting me, thank you for letting me be your mother.

The Night of A Thousand Nightmares.

Really more like 6 or 7, back to back.  Scumbag brain was definitely wearing his douchey backwards hat last night.  Let’s recap them in order:

1. Parker got hit by a car and was lying lifeless in the street.  Dark blue Prius (yes, my dreams are that specific), it took off.  I think even MMFN knew that was too much for me, cause he wasn't killed, but had broken legs.  I was screaming because I had just been telling some actor (think Lex Luthor from Smallville, no I don’t know why) about my daughter and then Parker runs away from me and this happens.  This one had me wide awake at 4 am, unable to go back to sleep until 6ish.

2. My husband kept coming back to the house after taking Parker to school this morning.  Or I thought it was him - I kept hearing keys being put on the table in the foyer, and people talking.  So I get up (still in the dream), thinking it’s him coming down the hallway, but when the guy gets there it’s some stranger.  Some guy in a suit and tie.  Another guy joins him in our room and they corner me, smiling but menacing.  One of them says something like "I'm John from ACSS."  Wake up.

3.  I get up again, hearing people talking.  It's Matt and he brought Parker back to the house - he's behind the glass door on the stairs, but I'm naked and embarrassed.  Wake up.

4.  I get up to use the bathroom.  The floor in our room & bathroom is soaking wet, and the toilet has been replaced by one of those huge blue rubber barrels.  Overflowing and gross. Matt comes back to the house & is pissed off at me because of it.  We fight.  I poke my finger in his chest and he laughs at me.  I tell him I'm pregnant again but we're getting a divorce. Wake up.

5.  Matt comes back to the house with a friend to play video games.  He says "we're all staying home today, Parker too."  And Parker is a head taller than me and wearing a backwards baseball hat like a d-bag.  Matt and some other faceless guy are playing games and won't fix the bathroom (that's still broken, carryover dream) so I have to sh*t in the living room sitting on a chair (I really, really hate my brain).  At this point I'm trying to confirm if it’s a dream or not, and my brain is telling me it’s real cause I can tell you what color underwear I had on (teal, long tag that said size 9).  Wake up.

6.  The bathroom is being fixed now, but they've (I'm assuming the landlords) replaced the shower with a tub, new toilet, and painted the bathroom & our room yellow & white.  I come out of the bathroom and a girl I work with and a girl I used to work with are there, asking why I didn't call in today.  One is wearing purple and pink eyeshadow and fake eyelashes.  I try to check the time on my phone (which is my old BlackBerry) but it's going completely screwy.  5:20, 1:20, 3 am, etc.  I told her I was just about to call and they stare at me.  "Am I being let go?"  She shakes her head yes.  Wake up.

Other than the first one, these all occurred between, like 6:00 and 6:50 am.  I frequently have dreams that involve me waking up and carrying on with the next days activities – they trick me into thinking I’m up and moving so when I actually do wake up, I’m late.  It's like MMFN is realizing he can't get to me as easy during the day, so he's attacking me at night.  I'm exhausted.  I’ve always had vivid dreams, but this can't be normal.  After going through such a trauma, I think – no, I know - I’m permanently damaged.

They're not hard to evaluate - fear of something happening to Parker, fear of my husband not being the person he actually is, fear of someone unknown entering our house (which has happened).  I just wish I could shut it off - there's a continual stream of obscure consciousness that runs through my head at night, and I just want to be able to shut it off and sleep sometimes.

Three Months

I never thought I’d make it this far.  Three months without my baby girl.  Three months post-partum.  I was supposed to just be starting back to work, not here for 6 weeks already, still hating it, and going on multiple interviews trying to desperately find a way out.  I was supposed to be sorting through Coraline’s newborn clothing, donating or saving it for the next one, not avoiding her room and procrastinating about boxing up all of her things.  She would have been starting daycare.  She would have been smiling, and laughing.  

Have you ever felt your heart snap in two?  I swear I can feel it every day.  When I reach in my pocket and allow myself to feel that brick I’ve been carrying around.  I never forget it’s there, but when I allow myself to really reach in and examine it, I break.  I've made progress, I know I have - but I still feel irreparably broken.

I apologize to her every day.  For what happened, for not constantly being sad.  Three months and I’ve made all these stupid plans.  All these things I want to do.  Things that don’t really matter on one hand, but that I feel need to be done.  No matter what I do I will feel guilty.  Part of me wants to take the rest of my life and devote it to doing all the things I should, to become the person I would have wanted to be for her – a strong role model, a positive person, etc.  I should do all the things she never had a chance to do.  The other part of me feels I should just disappear – hide inside myself and devote all my time to thinking about her and basically shunning my own existence.  This is the battle that rages inside me.  The constant struggle of what is appropriate or right or good or positive.  

I just wanted to hold her.  I would give my life just to hold her again.