My Deep Dark Secret Face

By nature we are all attracted to the darkness in other peoples lives. Probably to compare our own stories to see how messed up we are. I carry my secret in a tight pocket. Since this bog is also a secret I will let you in on my midnight hour.

Everyday I carry a weight. The weight brings down the corners of my mouth and it takes a little extra to smile. The weight hangs off my heart and I try a little harder to feel compassion for other people. In my line of work… this is crucial. I must make the face but more importantly I must make others believe it to be true.

Want to know the truth? I have learned to cringe at peoples reaction. The instinctual head tilt and the way eyebrows jump to the hairline. Revealing makes people look at you differently. When people know, your emotions that have hardened to steel turn to glass in their eyes.

I get it. My secret is difficult. My secret is a nightmare. Instant depression. Self medicating. Automatically resenting. I could no longer look at my husband. His face was too familiar. His grief wasn’t compatible with mine. I was trapped in cold thoughts, too hard to escape from. My body turned sarcophagus. Giving and taking away life like power hungry deity.

He was my seventh loss. He was my son. He was beautiful. His heart stopped. He was supposed to be safe. Something was off all along. I could tell something needed to be protected. I didn’t know how. I was a perfect mother. I know I was. I did everything right. He never cried. My silent boy. I screamed for him. I cried his tears. I laid with him. I searched for him on his face. Oh my boy. My fire turned to ash.

I don’t tell anyone anymore. I have grown so much through the years. I am not ashamed. I don’t wish to hide him. He is alive in my heart and everyday his short memories are carried with me. He is talked about with those who shared the happiness I felt. He was celebrated. He was wanted. He was stillborn… but he was still born. I kissed his lips. I mourned then and I mourn now. I will carry him with me happily and forever. I am his mother and I keep him always.

It is something desperate to have the need to carry sadness. I would never choose to forget. It hurts but it’s the last thing I have of him. Someone once said,

“When a child looses a parent they are an orphan

When someone loses a spouse they are a widow

There is no word to describe someone who lost a child.”

Vegetarian to Vegan….

I have been a veggie for a few months now. Due completely to the fact that meat was making me feel very nauseated when I would eat it. I have been a life long meat eater but, now, when I just think of eating it, I get the same sick feeling. I have seen the videos, a few years back, of animals locked in the cages and how it gets worse from there but, I was still eating meat just about everyday. I blocked out the bad and did my best to cook all the meat well done to block the truth from my mind. I did a good job. Now, it is impossible.

I do not know why I have such an aversion suddenly but, I am surprised how content I feel. I am so happy with not eating meat that I have been looking in to becoming vegan. I can do a meal or two with an all plant based diet. Getting over the dairy has been the rough part. I don’t even like drinking cow milk and I am not too fond of eggs. That was the easy part. It’s the cheese. Cheddar, mozzarella, American…. even cream cheese! And let’s not forget chocolate… I never forget about chocolate. There is chocolate almond milk in my fridge right now and if coarse the kids have the Halloween candy. I know that at this point there are vegan substitutions for everything. However, I am in a house full of carnivores and I am the the primary cook. I pride myself with making everyone happy with food. I have an old grandmother inside me making sure everyone is in food bliss with a full tummy. If they want enchiladas, saucy with extra cheese, that’s what I make them but, with that temptation, I can’t pass it up. I cook steaks and chicken for the family also and for myself I make grilled veggie tacos. Skipping out on the meat is easier for me.

I guess I am still blinded. My goal is to get there. When I restrict, I binge. When I try to cut out carbs, I will have donuts with me the next day. It’s depressing a bit but, one of the reasons I wanted to start blogging is to straighten out my thoughts and figure out how to go about things when it’s laid in front of me. This is already helping. I can focus better. I am not the person I want to be, but I am also not the person I am going to be forever.

Inner Terrors on Hallows Eve

At first Halloween did not have much meaning for me this year. Besides a set of fangs I molded to my teeth, it was uneventful. After work I relaxed at home, per the norm, and suddenly I was having a panic attack. I have only had two other experiences of feeling complete dread and helplessness. Each time was focused on the safety of my kids. My daughter, Fairy, as she will be called was the source of the last one earlier this year. She was riding passenger with a relative on their way home from a fun day! It must have been the wee hours after midnight that helped the anxiety fester. I NEEDED to know she was ok. I was never so desperate. Heart racing and tears pouring down my face I became an over flow of emotions. After the phone call and hearing her voice I calmed enough to compose myself and dry my face. She was with a loving Aunt who would never let harm come to her. Somewhere I knew that. I am usually calm, levelheaded and logical. I experienced a momentary failure of rational. I chalked it up to missing my kid. She came home, I kissed her off to bed and slept.

Halloween hit me harder. This year is the first that the Littles would be with their Other [parent]. The horrible things I have seen and heard of happening to victims of assault and abuse came to mind. I have kept those memories with me as fears and I felt them all at once. The real monsters among the witches and ghouls. The cunning eyes and evil smirks mixed in the crowd of fake blood and face paint. Someone could be out there waiting in the darkness as children skip with candy buckets. PROTECT THE LITTLES AT ALL COST! Panicking.

My son stood front and center in my mind. Quite smaller than Fairy and self confidently indestructible. The fearful emotions began to come strong. I tried to hold them back. “The Other is a very loving and attentive parent,” a logical but insignificant thought squeezed through to the surface. It did nothing to settle the tantrum inside me.  I needed to call the Other and confirm safety. My attempt to control my voice came in long awkward pauses and still managed to be shaken up and high pitch. After a few sentences the despair in my voice was obvious. Surprisingly the Other spoke gently. Unexpectedly. Thankfully. With a promise to keep the Littles safe and to text me when they were home from trick-or-treating, I let him be a dad with his kids on Halloween.

I laid down to accept my emotions and process them. After a few more tears and thoughts of calling again, finally a text came. The kids were home, safe, and overdosing on sugar with disheveled hair and the excited glow they get on Christmas. I cried a little more feeling silly. My anxiety was wearing down and I felt like I was finally breathing properly. I stayed curled in bed feeling limp and oddly satisfied with extra gravity that seemed to be keeping me still. I was exhausted. Happy Halloweee …. ZZzz