PYHO: Disappointed

I've never been a fitness guru by any stretch of the imagination but I've had times in my life where I made exercise and eating better a priority and the results were apparent. 

It's been a rough eighteen months and I am definitely a stress eater. Those results are also apparent. 

In January I decided it was time to get my hand out of the chips and queso and do something about it. It wasn't what I expected and I was an exercise class drop out. 

I did hit the track regularly and sorta followed Weight Watchers with a friend who officially joined. I was excited by the results and even went down a size.

And then it was March. Three kids + One mother in law +3000 miles to see Big Yankee. We had to eat our for every meal for 8 days. And I started slipping and slipping.

Things kept coming up and I would miss a day at the rec center and one day turned in to three days which turned into a week and then a month. 

Our house finally sold which meant I had to pack up seven years of our life, orchestrate a cross country move, and solo parent three monkeys. 

That's when I truly gave up and the wine and chocolate and chips and queso flowed freely.

We crash landed in our new home about three weeks ago and I've been walking my ass off. I have walked more days than I haven't. 

We aren't talking leisurely strolls here...I am a speed walker. I hit the streets for 35-45 minutes an average of five days a week. 

And what do I have to show for it? NOTHING! Not a damn thing. My clothes aren't fitting differently. I'm not losing inches and my scale is broken but I'm pretty confident in saying I haven't lost a pound. And it pisses me off! 

I don't expect miracles here nor do I expect to be slim and trim overnight but I need something. Something to show me my hard work is paying off. I'm disappointed and losing my motivation which is just part of a vicious cycle. 

How do you work thru the disappointment and keep on keeping on?

Blank

I got nuthin'.

I scoured through my 43 unfinished drafts hoping to find inspiration for Pour Your Heart Out. Nothing. Na da. Zero. Zilch.

Since my laptop decided to quit last week it has felt like such a hassle to write. I trudge downstairs to the office out of obligation. I tell StinkBug I'll only be gone  for a few minutes. I distract him with Barnyard-his current favorite movie. I slump into the black chair and breathe a heavy sigh. This writing..it feels like such an imposition on my life right now. And yet without it I feel disconnected-cut off from the world and the people who live inside my computer screen.

Such a minor inconvenience yet it is having a dramatic effect. It's bringing me down. Harshing my mellow. There are days I am barely holding on and it's the writing the reading the Twitter that keeps me hanging on.

Marriage is Scary

Marriage is hard. Extremely hard.

It's not all pretty.

In fact, it can get pretty ugly at times.

I found this quote which pretty much sums it up:

More marriages might survive if the partners realized that sometimes the better comes after the worse.
                                                                                                                                ~ Doug Larson


Big Yankee and I are on our 13th year of happily ever after. Yeah, lucky 13. Looking back over the years we've had some of the better and some of the worse. These last four years-they feel like someone trucked in an oversize load of worse and dumped it on us.

We are making it...barely at times. Struggling to communicate across thousands of miles through texts, phone calls and an occasional email. Trying to share the burdens that can't really be transported across time and space.

Both of us trying to give to the other when we are sucked bone dry. Both of us are scared shitless of the what ifs-what if our house doesn't sell? what if my unemployment runs out before we move? what if it happens again? what if? Wondering how much longer our family will survive this kind of life without breaking in two...or two thousand pieces.

And then I feel guilty and selfish for feeling this way. Separations are a way of life for military families. And they have the added stress of putting their lives on the line.

I'm Scared

I am afraid that our house will never sell..or that it will take so long to sell and we will have to keep lowering the price that we will be in worse shape financially than we are now...if that is even possible. Our family has been all kinds of split up for the past 15 months.

I love our house. It is in a fantastic neighborhood in what everyone says is the "best" elementary school zone in the city. It is spacious and has a great floor plan. We have a neighborhood pool, playground and a pond that is stocked with fish. What family wouldn't want to live here?

The economy is shit and a very large company headquartered in close proximity announced that it will be laying off about 2100 people by 2013. Houses are being listed like crazy in this area. For Sale signs went up on Monday in front of 2 more houses in my neighborhood.

We CANNOT stay here. It is not even an option and if it was I wouldn't want to stay. Big Yankee and I have had three layoffs in three years between us. He spent nearly two years trying to find a job he liked that paid a living wage because I DIDN'T want to move. Now I just want to get the hell out of here. He now has a job he loves and we NEED to move across country to join him.

Guilty

I have a confession to make.

My almost 5 year old doesn't sleep thru the night.

Yes FIVE. YEAR. OLD.

Nope he isn't 5 months or 15 months. He is two weeks shy of five years old!

He has very rarely slept thru the night since birth and it is mostly our fault.

Probably more mine than Big Yankee's as his work schedule rarely had him home at bedtime those first three years.

This means that I haven't slept thru the night in 5 years...more accurately ten years but that's Einstein's fault and probably another post.

I am chronically sleep-deprived.

Our living situations have been less than ideal for the past 15 months. With two days warning Big Yankee and Stinkbug headed south for a job. It sucked but it was the only way we could both keep our jobs which we desperately needed to do. They lived with my parents during the week and came home on weekends.

How do you explain THAT to a 3 1/2 year old?

It got to the point where he just slept with Big Yankee because it was the only for him to get enough sleep to function at work the next day. StinkBug would spend the week being an only child, hanging with grandparents all day and Daddy at night. When the weekend rolled around he would return to the chaos of a busy household with a brother, sister and Momma he missed desperately.

In mid January my dad got sick.Very. Very. Sick. ICU sick.

By then Big Yankee and all the monkeys had moved South and I was here clinging to my high stress job while looking for work there and praying that our house would sell. It was heartbreaking. With NO warning StinkBug moved back with me. His world was rocked once more. He went from living in a house full of people and hanging out with grandparents all day to being wrapped in a blanket and dropped off at Ms. L's home childcare at 6:30 am. He was once again separated from his beloved sister.

I spent all day teaching other people's at-risk 3-5 year olds. We were going through some extremely high stress times in our classroom and with the school as a whole. I was worried about my parent's health. I couldn't stop imagining worst case scenarios. I was completely and utterly exhausted. Physically and emotionally. My family was fractured and financial stress was off the charts. I wasn't sleeping. My brain would not shut off.

I was too tired and too empty to wage war over sleep. It got to the point where I just let him get in bed with me. I took the easy way out. He would watch a movie and fall asleep. I was relying on Tylenol PM to get some Zzzzs. Far from ideal, but I did what I had to do in order to survive. Big Yankee and the older two came home on the weekends.

The summer brought us layoffs times two but we were all back together in our own house. StinkBug's sleep improved somewhat but it wasn't a huge deal since no one had school or work to worry about. We messed that all up by going on a 21 day road trip where we traveled to eleven states and slept in a bazillion different places. Two weeks after we returned, Big Yankee moved across country for a job, the big kids went back to school, and StinkBug's world was torn apart once more.

Through lots of tears and heartbreak (his and mine) Stinkbug was once more sleeping in his own bed and only waking up three nights a week. My dreams were coming true. The birds were singing, double rainbows decorated our world and life was good. I was hopeful that he would be sleeping through the night by his fifth birthday.

Things started to slowly deteriorate and by Thanksgiving he was back to waking every single night. Big Yankee's Christmas visit was amazing but his departure left a broken hearted little boy. Sobbing, crying, clinging to me. Scared if I leave the room he shares with his brother for a split second. He comes into my room every single night.

He doesn't sleep through the night and I feel guilty. It's our fault. We have put him through so much. Too many transitions, complicated living situations. As adults we can barely make sense of things, so how can we expect him to manage?

As I solo parent there are many, many nights I am beyond desperate for bedtime so I can have a few moments to myself.

Moments when I am not needed-when I can take care of myself and enjoy the silence, when I can really breathe and let go of the day-when I am not being touched or talked to. When I get to be me.

And then I will hear his feet padding down the hall.  He clings to his pirate pillow as he  stands in my doorway and says, "I thought I told you I needed you? Can I lay down with you?"

I pull the blankets down and pat the bed. It's our fault. We are guilty.

I look at his big brother who won't allow himself to need us like that anymore.

My heart breaks for both of them.

I gave up....

Once upon a time I was an extremely social person. I love connecting with people...finding out what makes them tick, hearing their stories, discovering our differences and similarities. 

It's no shock to anyone that teaching is a female dominated field. I did tons of socializing at work. I spent more time with my 2 classroom teachers than I did my own husband (and other peoples husbands too!) We went through a lot together both at home and within our classroom during our nine months. It's only fitting that they laid us off together. 

I had neighborhood friends. People I would go walking with or hang out at the neighborhood pool while our kids played Marco Polo for the 743rd time. We would talk about teachers, PTA and neighborhood news.

I had really great, amazing friends. I would go over to borrow some taco seasoning and end up staying 2 1/2 hours because we hadn't seen each other in a few days. We would watch each other kids. Our families were friends. We went to the circus, concerts and amusement parks together. We went to Vegas to celebrate our wedding anniversaries.

I had friends from previous jobs. People that I might see only twice a year but things would fall in place like we had just seen each other yesterday. We would tell stories, laugh till we snorted spending eight hours together when we met for lunch. 

We wouldn't leave until our sides hurt from laughing and it always ended in lots of hugs. 

And I am NOT a hugger. 

But these gals they just make you want to squeeze them.

I had MY GIRLS. There are eight of us. We are spread out all over now, but once upon a time we all lived in the same midwestern college town. Some of them have been my closest friends for 25 years. More than half my life. Some of them have been friends since 2nd grade. To say we have been through a lot together doesn't even begin to cover it.

Our living situation hasn't been "normal" for the past 15 months but when Big Yankee left in August there was a major shift. 

And I just gave up. 

It took every ounce of energy I had to make it through the day...to go through the motions. Just trying to survive.

I didn't know how to be an at-home mom. 

I had spent the last twenty seven years of my life working. I had no idea how to not have a job.

The mere thought of maintaining friendships exhausted me.

I was tethered to my children every single moment of every single day. I didn't have money to meet a friend for lunch. How could I go walking with three kids in tow? We use to attempt that when they were younger and it was a recipe for disaster.

My friend and neighbor moved this summer. We have never lived here without them. Someone moved in next door but it is still empty to me.

My girls have endured such heartbreak and challenges this year that my life looks like a walk in the park.

I may have given up then but I am back in the game now. 

I am adjusting to my new normal and standing on more solid ground.

And that is how I Pour My Heart Out for the first time.