Monday, May 20, 2013

Thank you for a wonderful weekend. It was relaxing. Very relaxing.

Could this be the sign? A sign that if I am in a good mood, that you won't hear from me? I wanted to write something last Friday as I was a having a great day but I had so much on my mind - things to do that I didn't get the chance to share it with you.

This past weekend, you did so many things on your list to make me happy. Please know that -I do recognize them. And Thank you! Thank you for not letting me or you cook Friday night. Thank you for cleaning the garage. Thank you for following us to the town center and helping me with Claire. Thank you for making me nap that afternoon. Thank you for cleaning the car. Thank you for playing with Claire and our dog. Thank you for great grilled pizzas.  Thank you for spending Sunday morning with me and Clare. Thank you for the money for me to go yard sale picking! Thank you for always kissing me and hugging me. Your affection always brings me home. You are home. You are truly my home.

Today is kind of an Elton John day. I will be doing some painting on the furniture and get those done so I could start another one!

I hope you schedule your yearly physical with your doctor-I want us to grow old together. I know the focus has been me-yet it can't always be that way. You need to be taken care of too. I'll be thinking about you and enjoying the great memories I have of you.

I love you my dear husband. Thank you for always loving me. Thank you for always being here no matter how nutty I am - you never seem to get  freaked out by my irrational mind. You are my constant reminder that life is good and it is worth fighting for.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

I am scared. I am scared that you will wake up one day and really see me for who I am and you will realize how you do not want to be part of me.

I am scared that you will smarten up one day and realize how dumb you've been to marry me.

I am scared that you will hate me. I am scared that you will regret ever meeting me. I am scared that I will ruin you, bring you down and hurt you completely to a point of changing the real you-and I don't want you to change at all.

I am scared that because I am this person, that my effect on you will be so bad that it will become irreversible.

I am scared that you will realize someday how I've ruined Claire.

I am scared that you will agree someday with me how bad a mother I am.

I am scared that one day you will not find me interesting anymore or sexy or beautiful.

I am scared that one day you will wake up and not want me anymore.

I am scared that one day you will wake up and just have anger left in you FOR me.

I am scared that one day I will come to realize that I have emotionally abused you because I am so screwed up and can't control my emotions and that you have to work hard in being patient and understanding.

I am scared that one day you either won't come home or that one day I will wake up and never see you again.

I am scared that one day I will wake up and I have lost you.
How crazy does this sound to you? I want to paint the chairs that I have been working on for more than a month now but I can't because there are some things in my mind that I need to let you know. As I was driving home this morning, I was having a dilemma. Should I write (or maybe type is the right word) or should I paint? But my thoughts didn't end just at those questions. I was worried that if I wrote them down, I definitely will be entertaining some feelings that would paralyze my day with grief. If I didn't write these feelings down, I will never understand why I am feeling this way because as it turns out, writing does help me understand myself more. And it isn't because of the delay but because of my obsession on reading my writing the next day and asking myself if I feel the same way as I did the previous day. I bet you are already lost. So if I did write them down now, I know my day will turn out to be a hell. If I didn't, I will be painting so distractedly because every feelings I have will be so bottled up inside me that I'll be making mistakes after another.
I don't even want to write this down now. I sound so crazy. I sound sad and pathetic. Yet this is me. Why do I feel crazy? And what does crazy really mean?


As I dropped you off this morning, I thought of our friend's birthday. I told her I was going to make her a cake for her birthday which is in two weeks. I don't know if I can do it. I am worried that she is gong to take a photo of the cake and post it on Facebook. And when that happens, all of the 6 clients for cakes that we had to cancel because of my depression will soon find out and wonder how could have I made others a cake but not them. I was thinking maybe I should just be honest to our friend and tell her not to post anything on Facebook so my clients wont know. I owe her a cake isn't it because of the photos she took for your birthday? Yet, I really don't want to tell anybody anymore how I had a nervous breakdown 4 weeks ago and that I was stuck at a parking lot for about 4 hours paralyzed by my own emotions that affected my physical ability to even move or drive. I don't really want to tell anybody anymore how I broke down or how crazy I am or how fucked my past life was before I met you or how sad I really am as a person. I don't want to stress more people out. I don't want people pitying  me. I don't want to embarrass myself more or you or Claire. I somehow want to pretend again how strong I am and that there is nothing wrong with me. I want my old self to come back, the one who fought hard whenever I felt low. I want my old self back, the one who is strong and isn't weak. I want my wise mind back, the one who does not blow up about our dog peeing on our strawberry plant bed and other ridiculous things that a normal person would for sure not be paying attention to-and I currently do. I want my old self back, the one who can enjoy the precious time I should be having with my child. Where is she and how do I get her back? Do I even want her back? Should I want her back? Is the normal me before the breakdown, was that a normal normal? or was that I thought was normal but not medically normal person?

I just also don't want to be judged. I don't want myself being the topic of our friend's discussion. I don't want them worrying about me. I don't want them feeling strong for me because I may never get better and I don't want them feeling frustrated that I could never snap out of this because I actually may never snap out of this. I am worried enough about you and Claire and myself and now I have to worry about their worries too?

Also, I don't know if I could see anybody right now because I don't feel like myself. Our friend must already think how weird I am when I am not like any other girl she's met. I don't wear jewelries except my wedding ring and once out of a blue moon-I'd put on some earrings, maybe what, twice a year? I don't know how to paint my nails. I don't spend time taking care of myself. I never go out no matter how many times she's invited me. I get haircuts like once a year. I can't talk about anything else except about Claire. I am awkward. I can't even smile whenever she takes a photo of me that it pains me whenever she pays attention to me, how much more when she wants to document myself on a photo? I am not girly like her. I don't spend more than an hour to pamper myself and I know she must think I am a lesbian because of that. And if I feel ugly because I purposely make myself ugly so no one pays attention to me, I don't want to see the pity in her eyes when she sees me because it hurts. I am even wondering now how did I have friends? I feel bad for them. I feel bad for all of them. And I feel so sad for myself that I am this sad.

All of this came through my mind from a piece of cake. All of this.


So I did write it down. Do I feel better after I did? I think a little bit I do. However reading what I wrote about what goes through my head of what people think of me makes me really sad. This entire writing activity makes me really look at myself, doesn't it? And when I am reading it to myself again, why do I not see myself? It seems like someone else wrote this down. Maybe because I really have not been confronting every demon in my mind. And I thought I did. This demon is what paralyzes me. This demon is what holds me back. This demon is the one who refuses to get up in the morning. This demon is the source of my guilt, my fear, and my anxiety.

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

As I was picking up Claire from school today, the teacher approached me and told me that Claire has been putting objects inside her mouth again and that she is worried she might choke. I told her that this was a problem a year ago when she was in preschool and I actually thought we were over that hill. I guess I was wrong. Did it come back?

We walked to the car and she seemed sad. As we got inside the car, I asked her what happened and if she was spacing out. She said she didn't want to talk about it. I started worrying.

What could I possibly be worrying?

Maybe this happened ever since I had my nervous breakdown. Maybe she is stressed out. Maybe she is tired and lacking of sleep because we haven't been consistent in her bedtime lately. Maybe she is thinking and anxious just like me because we both know that when she is spacing out, that is when she places objects inside her mouth, whatever is on her hand. Could it be that she is anxious too?

So when we got home, I asked her if she was sad, she said no. I asked her if there is something making her sad, she says no. I asked her is she was thinking of something so much lately, she says no. Then it hit me, how could she know? She is a child. How would she know she is anxious until probably it has gotten so bad that she would start needing professional help? How does so many kids these days have depression? And if someday she does, would I say no and pretend that she isn't? What if I am just like my parents who thinks that depression doesn't exist?

I don't want to ruin her. I wish I was a happy mommy. I wish I could hold my tongue and not worry her. I wish she didn't care much about being clean? I wish she didn't worry what clothes to wear depending on the weather. I wish she wasn't an only child. I wish she was carefree just like her friends. I wish I don't affect her much. I wish she doesn't turn into me. Because if she does, I will be so broken, much broken than I am now. How do I make sure she doesn't turn into me?

This isn't really a blog. I started this because I am thinking that writing to you will be easier than talking. You aren't my therapist. In fact, you are my husband who pays for a therapist to listen to me. A therapist to help me, to fix me, to keep me in line with reality, to wake me up, to tell me the truth, to help me face the questions I need to ask myself. You've work so hard to make sure I have a therapist yet here you are now becoming not only my husband but my pillow as well.

It's unfair. Not for me but for you and Claire. And I am sorry.

I am very very sorry. I wish I knew how crazy my life will be in 10 years when you asked me to marry you. Maybe then I could have saved you from all my misery. I have been thankful for you ever since I met you that I really believe that God was watching over me when I met you. However, was He watching over you? Is He watching over Claire?

I am angry. Of course you know it's not you. I am angry at how my life turned out to be. I am angry at the 2 people who raised me. Yet time and time again, no matter how I know that they have a part on this, I manage to forgive them and feel more guilty for blaming them for all of this. So who am I to blame except myself, right? After all this is me. I can't blame God, because every action I took was mine. It's not like I was his puppet. And then, I really can't blame my parents because even if they didn't mean to hurt me, even if they thought screaming and fear was a normal way to have a life with children, even if they thought that saying how proud they are of their children was a bad idea and won't do any good for us, even if they thought belittling their children was a way of challenging their children to prepare them for their future, even if they thought spanking to a point of bruising won't really hurt us at all, even if my own mother constantly used fear of my father's temper as a way of disciplining us, even if my mother could leave my father if he ever cheated on her but do not consider leaving him when he lost control over his emotions and anger and the only way to relieve it is to beat the crap out of me or their other children, even if they could never say that they are sorry for the pain that they know they have caused, even if my sister's weight was always a topic during dinner time, even if their reputation in the community are far more greater than what their children thought of them, even if they thought having food to feed us was the most important responsibility they have for their children but who could care less if they emotionally abuse us, even if my mother believed the rapist's stories better than her own child-how could I blame them? How could I ever blame them?

I wish I could take my fears away so you and Claire can have a peaceful life. I wish I don't have to dissect every action I make with my child so you don't have to remind me that Claire needs limitations and boundaries and my actions are just right. I wish I don't have to check the locks on the door each single night even after you have just locked it a second ago. I wish I don't freak out on raw chicken so much and can accept that Salmonella won't make the world end. I wish that I could relax inside our house even if it is messy and disorganize. I wish I could stop worrying about a potential stranger that could take Claire away from us or sexually abuse her. I wish that I didn't think of every new person in our life as a possible threat to our child's life.  I wish I could allow you to sleep with our windows open and not worry so much about someone coming in the middle of the night. I wish I was a happy person and less miserable. I wish I was outgoing and could care less about what people thought of me. I wish I was smart to understand your work and maybe you could talk to me more about it. I wish I wasn't so paralyzed by my fear of someone hurting my child that I could actually work outside of our home and help you out financially, but instead I need to be home when she is out from school and I don't see any way around it. I wish I could trust a babysitter so we can go out on dates. I wish I prioritize our dates when Claire was a baby, maybe you wouldn't have been so stressed out yourself. I wish I could control and keep all my fears to myself so you don't have to worry. I wish I was healthy then none of this would even be a topic in our family. I wish I didn't scream  as much when you are just trying to reason with me. I wish that I could be the wife you've dreamt of when you asked me to marry you. I wish I was the mother that Claire deserves. I wish that my mind could be at ease even for a couple of hours then maybe I really could enjoy my time with you and Claire. I wish I could forgive your mother because she really is just like me, she used to be me before the drinking. I wish that going out to eat shouldn't be such a work for us, damn Yelp. I wish I could just enjoy life like you do but then now I know you aren't because of me. I wish I could be carefree. I wish that the injustices around the world and around us, does not make me insane for an entire day sometimes months. I wish anger could be tamed and does not hijacked me. I wish I could just wear anything  and not be bothered by what people thought of me. I wish I wasn't like my father. I wish I didn't come from this family that raised me. I wish I never met that person who raped me. I wish I never met that person who physically  abused me and almost killed me. I wish I have more patience. I wish that I could just be a normal person and not be bothered so much by bad food or bad cooking. I wish my conscience wasn't such a big part of me. I wish guilt doesn't exist in me. I wish I wasn't a worrier. LOOK AT ME. I am all this! And I wish I wasn't me. ME. ME. ME.The problem is really me.

I've been wishing so much lately that my life will end soon, then maybe all the guilt, the worry and the pain that I have could easily go away without me really affecting you and Claire. But because of the guilt and the worry and the pain, I haven't yet because I know  that if I do-everything that I wished wasn't me will somehow become you and Claire.

I really didn't know I was going to be here at the age of 34. I really didn't know. I thought that fighting through was going to make me come down from that hill alive, well, happy and healthy. I really didn't realize that how I am coping would end up making me climb another mountain. And I am scared. I am scared for you and Claire. I am scared that you and Claire don't only have to ride this with me but also cause you and Claire to have your own mountain in the future to climb because of all of these. Because of my fear, because of my pain, because of my anger, and because of all of me.

What choices do I really have? What is better for everyone in the long run? Claire does not deserve this. She is our angel and her future is so bright ahead of her. What if I damage her because of me? What if to get through this mountain is enough to cause her a lot of pain in her future and then she'll end up just like me? We don't know whats in her future. And we don't have any guarantees so what do I choose?