Single Mama Rant

Despite the growth I have been experiencing on my healing and recovery journey, the hard work that I’ve been doing, digging into myself, my thoughts and behaviors, there is still one area that is kicking my ass. Royally.

The role that I am in, “The Single Mom”.

These days, the role is eating me up inside, it’s overwhelmingly consuming and crushing me.

I remind myself that I am not the only one in this role. I remind myself that there are others with more children than my own, one daughter. I remind myself that while we have experienced hell, there are others who have gone through worse to get here. I remind myself that these others, moms, dads, aunties, uncles, grandparents, friends, etc., are in the same boat as I, and they are succeeding. I remind myself that I am strong. I remind myself that I am capable. I remind myself that it will get easier. I remind myself that I am doing the best that I can.

I am trying.

The struggle is real my friends.

My nights lately, intended for reviewing the personal work I am doing, catching up on homework (I am doing my English 12, and just started 2 online courses to brush up on my skills in the areas of computers and the fundamentals of being an Administrative Assistant), and quiet time to wind down with some self-care, have turned into a war zone, leaving me with little time to catch my breath or get a decent sleep.

I sit on the couch crying, the weight of my responsibilities feeling as though they are crushing me, and, as was the case last night, with the music LOUD, the fan on high, in attempt to drown out my daughters nasty screaming and wailing, and the urge to scream at the top of my lungs while running out of my apartment.

The yelling and friction between us have surpassed anyone’s comfort zone, even beginning to frighten one another, so really, releasing a blood curdling scream is not an option, nor is running away.

I know others can relate to having another parent in the house who really doesn’t contribute to their role in the family, in any physical or emotional manner. But, because you both created this child, you don’t feel completely alone or misunderstood in your hopes, plans, beliefs about the child. Until you are alone. Then, I know others can continue to relate to finding a partner who steps in to take on a parental role, thankfully, and wonderfully, but we still feel alone on the deeper levels of parenting this child who was created by two, then left with one.

And I know there are others who have experienced both of those situations, and then still find themselves where I now am: ONE. SINGLE. PARENT.

The strongest words racing through my mind lately?

OH. MY. GOD. HOLY. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUUUUUCCKK.

(followed by huge tears and sobs, deep breaths, and loneliness)

I recognize the elements of age/stage that are present; the “normal” tough stuff. I am aware of the effects on her from the grief, loss and traumas that she has experienced. I realize that she has seen people treat her mom in unhealthy, unsafe and negative manners. I accept, with a giggle, that she IS my daughter after all; those who know me… LOL But, there is another side that I see too, a darker side that regretfully reminds me of her father, though I would NEVER say that to her. A side that is beginning to resemble a person who bullies her mom, a negative, unaccepting, unwilling, take no responsibility, constantly pointing fingers to blame side.

This “side” of her though, is beginning to feel like it might break this single mama.

Beneath the crushing and suffocating weight, overwhelming tears and need to vent, I continue to maintain vigilance. I continue to reach out to our counsellors, friends and family, I read anything “parenting”, and I just keep trying, one foot in front of the other.

I am determined.

The cycles end here. The healing begins. I will, and AM showing her a better way. I am sharing tools and skills with her. I am conversing about the tough stuff with her, attempting to ensure open communication with her for when the “big” stuff comes along.

One day, I remain hopeful, she will fully understand and appreciate this “role” I currently struggle to fulfill. I hope that she will be proud of me, for kicking ass at BEING a “single mama”.

Recovering My Writing - Healing Through Words

Hello again, or maybe for the first time!!

I've been under construction. Digging deep, and working on myself. Reading and meditation have been where the majority of my time has been spent. The only writing I was doing came in the form of worksheets, answering the questions in the books I was reading, exercises, homework...

I  have been wanting to write. I have been needing to write. Intending to write. Trying to write. Being "encouraged" (pestered!) to write by mom. There were few times I was able to get much out, and my attempt at using a journal just didn't stick. I wanted to get back here, to my blog, and share my stories. I wanted to use my writing, and this platform, to aid in my healing journey, and maybe to help or inspire your own. I attempted to establish a new writing routine. I thought about how to begin again here. I pondered where to begin my story. I just could not seem to bring myself to do it. Nothing came.


The majority of my focus has been on my healing and recovery, but I've also been working with a Job Coach on my Job Search path. I need to find work again, or go to school; something to generate a sustainable income AND feed my passions.

I told myself, despite the feedback around me, that the writing would have to wait, the blog would have to wait. I told myself there were more important things to be doing with my time. These thoughts still did nothing to get me moving, feel inspired or motivated.

The only thing I was really able to see was the work I needed to do on my healing and recovery.
(I am pretty certain most of us know what that tends to looks like...)

Photo

Until now.
I have spent a lot of time in recent weeks in Solitude. Not completely and totally, all alone by myself; I do have a 9 year old daughter, and life just doesn't allow that opportunity! Throughout my life, I have been afraid of solitude, and instead immersed myself in Isolation. This time has been different.

I have come to the point where all roads, messages and suggestions have come together, with flashing arrows pointing at a sign: FOLLOW YOUR PASSIONS.

The fire within is roaring, and my gifts are wanting to expand. Writing, photography, rocks/crystals, nature, inspiring others, these are the things screaming to be heard, seen, felt. I NEED to put some time and effort into expressing these parts of me.

I realize that my story is not over, and so, there really is no specific place to begin in the sharing of it.

I must begin where I currently sit.

I must begin here and now.

It's Time

"You did what you knew how to do at the time, and when you knew more, you did better." 

-Maya Angelou

I love that quote, but lately, when I think about it, I am brought to a different place; I DO know better, and yet I am not doing better; or I know better, but I can’t influence others enough for them to do better.

As I have previously written, it has been an extremely difficult year, on many levels. The lessons set before me have been plentiful, and at times I have questioned how much more I could handle. Having been strong, or at least tried to appear strong at other times, there truly is only so much one person can take on before the façade begins to show signs of wear and tear. Cracks do form, and as hard as you resist it, fight it, unless the proper care is given, those cracks spread, and quickly. Once the foundation has been affected, we all know what begins to happen. Which is where I now find myself; broken, exhausted from the weight, and crumbling at a speed I’d forgotten possible.

I know better. I know that I can’t allow myself to succumb to these feelings. I know that I can only control my own responses and actions; I hold no responsibility in those choices made by another.  I know that silence does not bring about desired change, it only ties you down and buries you deeper in the darkness. I know that the power is mine alone.

…and yet, here I find myself.

I am too tired to care some days. Other days, while still tired, the realization brings me repeatedly to tears. My energy is too low to muster much of anything productive. My mind holds me prisoner, gripping me tightly, shackling me to it; it doesn’t give me a moment to breathe freely.

I remember being here once before, many years ago, as a teenager. Back then, I couldn’t see an end in sight, I didn’t KNOW the things I have since learned. Without a sense of, well much of anything, I came to a point of truly not caring. “What’s the point?” I often asked myself. No point trying, believing or hoping because I couldn’t see that I had the only power to make any changes.

Now, thankfully, I DO know more, and I KNOW that I WILL find my way through. I have just allowed too many things and thoughts to weigh me down without properly channeling my feelings, responses and energies. With that knowledge, I must take a stand, and pull myself back to where I should be, because I have several reasons to “care, try, believe and hope.” So many reasons…

In this, my typically dreaded season, I must find a way to deeply alter my perceptions and my actions. Where I usually prefer to snuggle in, content within the darkness of the winter months, hibernating in my own manner and ignoring the outside world to some extent, I must now find a way to allow light and the joys of re-birth to slip in a little early. I can’t allow myself to remain tucked away, wallowing in the muck. I have got to find a way to wake up; return to myself and life. I need to find the way back to my source, to the energies that are required and desired.

“We either make ourselves miserable, or we make ourselves strong. The amount of work is the same.” – Carlos Castaneda

Losing a Friend

Losing touch with someone close to you is never easy. You watch them slip and slide backwards, sometimes repeatedly, sometimes suddenly; sometimes both. You witness them change before your eyes, becoming a different person; someone that is capable of frightening actions and words. You know that they are in trouble and you reach your hand out, often and relentlessly. Your compassion only met by anger and rejection. You see them losing themselves and struggle to understand how you can help them. You feel their own confusion so thick it chokes you, and yet they can’t see it for themselves. You beg and plead, cry and scream, and nothing seems to work. It is suddenly like they have literally gone blind to their own previous thoughts, hopes, beliefs and dreams; they ARE different. Every once in awhile there is a glimmer of that person they once were, but it seems so rare that you know you are now dealing with a stranger. The person you loved is gone, nowhere to be found, no matter how hard you search for them.


Once you come to this final realization, you are beyond drained and feeling completely alone. It is one of the hardest things to live through, the depths you reach depending on who this person was to you. Nothing makes it easier as you go through it, nothing can ease the pain that comes from grieving the loss of someone special in your life. You feel overwhelming sadness and cry more tears, ones you didn’t even think were left behind your eyes.

But, in the end, you find the strength that was inside of you all along. You now know that you’re friend is no longer the friend they once were, and you needed to part ways in order to move forward.

Lessons in Gratitude?

“Cream of the crop” is a phrase I have heard repeated often during this past month.

I have listened to the words and rolled them repeatedly around my mouth and my mind. I have had a difficult time allowing them to register within me. They feel tainted by arrogance and smugness in many ways. If I step back, really take several paces backwards, I can see the words spelling out something far greater, something reserved for an elite part of society. Isn’t that funny?

My mind ponders the reality that each and every one of us will process the same situation in an entirely different light; none of us will truly ever experience the same moment in the same way as the person next to us. It doesn’t matter who that person beside us is.

So if we are to live a moment completely separate from those close to us, how is it possible to place judgments or condemnation upon them for their actions in the face of what lies before us? We cannot possibly fully comprehend that place from which their emotions and responses are born, not being immersed inside their mind ourselves, so how can we pretend to understand their actions?

However, there are some basic, hmm, I don’t know, courtesies, respects, LOVE that would and should come with these other things that may arise. Wouldn’t we think?

This month has reached peak levels in so many different places in my life, and instead of feeling more bonded, with anyone, I feel much more separate and alone. My eyes have opened wider, and sadly, parts of what, amazingly, still remained of my innocence, have been lost.

I feel far from what I imagine the phrase “Cream of the crop” to entail.

Somewhere, at the moment buried deeply, I can hear, and almost see other words calling out to me; “You ARE where you should be at this time. You ARE strong enough and you WILL make it through this time. Exactly on time, as you are intended to.”

In the end, it really doesn’t matter how the others respond. It matters how I respond. How I learn and grow from what these experiences are teaching me.

I guess what I need to do is take a standpoint of Gratitude. I need to appreciate that which has been placed on my path, for it has all been lessons offered. I only need to accept the gift.

Some Days Are Just Tough

There are days that I feel as though there is not a single thing that goes the way I would like; unfortunately those days often occur when I have looked forward to the day eagerly.

I find myself looking after the needs of others, answering and fulfilling THEIR every desire, only to find that each SMALL thing that I envisioned has fallen to the side or deemed un-important. After many hours of trying to happily comply and push my own feelings of let-down away, I inevitably find myself “grim and grumpy”.

By the time I reach that point, I tend to feel justified, and therefore content to stay in my mood. But, I also have the moments where I question what the hell I am doing?!

I can feel the others light tip-toes around me, their attempts to bring me back and I begin to feel guilty; so I pay attention to what I could be missing, I try to remind myself to be present in the moment.

I then move onto thinking why what I want should be considered any less important than what is on everyone else’s agenda? Why should their interests override my own?

Since baby girl came into our lives, I have found myself in this dilemma more often. I get frustrated at the lack of understanding and respect that people have for the job I now have; the job that doesn’t quit just because I want a break or someone else wants to do something different! I understand that some people aren’t in that situation now, “been there and done it”, or even they just have a different attitude towards being a parent; but I find it difficult at times to have enough patience to deal with it all in one day!

There are so many things racing through my mind at any given moment aside from that which is actually happening; things that no one aside from my husband, and sometimes not even him, would understand or appreciate the magnitude of.

I try to remind myself that all we have is THIS moment, but when the weight of so many other things exists, it becomes difficult at times to just forget…

2 Years Ago Tonight

It’s hard to believe that 2 years have passed by already…

2 years ago tonight, I lay alone in a hospital bed with my 2 day old baby girl beside me; we didn’t realize, and no one offered, that my husband could stay with us. Baby girl was having a little bit of a problem with phlegm, choking and not being able to breathe; in the end it was nothing serious, but as a new mom, I was terrified! Next to us, was a rather loud baby, mom and dad; this baby would NOT stop crying!! When it finally would fall asleep, mom and dad would continue to chat, not very quietly, especially considering the time of night that it was. Baby girl, as she continued to do for nearly a year, did not sleep very well either, being continuously awakened by the commotions behind the curtain. I was exhausted, nervous about being left alone with a newborn, and longed to me in the comfort of my own home, with my husband there by my side. I grew more and more anxious, and extremely irritable; I just wanted to take my baby and walk out of the hospital!!

Finally, after very little sleep, it was morning! I called home, excited to find out when hubby and mom would be coming to get us; not, of course, thinking of the time it would take the doctor to come around, or what the reaction to my legs would be. Unfortunately, by morning, my legs, ankles and feet had swollen up to a rather large and uncomfortable size. When the doctor finally came around to see us, several hours after I had anticipated, there was a great concern for what was going on with me; baby girl had been deemed healthy enough to go home. We had to wait even longer as I was being sent for an ultra-sound to clear the possibility of a blood clot.

At last, time for our new little family to go home! The concern with ladybugs choking etc., the insecurities, all soon disappeared; taken over by the routine of our new life with a baby, the natural and instinctive take-over that happens.

Now, we sit here, 2 years later. Baby girl is not so much a baby anymore. She’s now a toddler, a little girl; a child with a brilliant mind all her own. Independent and strong-willed, learning so many things so quickly, developing her personality, and discovering her very distinct “likes” and “dislikes”. Our beautiful, precious little girl…

My Heart Breaks

I am a stay at home mom and literally spend all of my time with my daughter. Because I take this time with her, I know her little quirks, gestures, signs, words and attempts at words. While it is a constant learning process, for us both, for the most part I do understand her. I know that she is a little creature of habit, continuity and routine. I know that she likes things in their place, and can sometimes be distracted by something that is off. I know that after I read her “lullaby book” (in the dark!!), I must also read the description on the BACK of the book; after our goodnights, she has her special corner of her blanket in hand and is then covered, head to toe, by two other blankets. I know the little things that make my baby girl tick.

The other day it really hit me, these things I KNOW about my child.

I thought of the babies and children that are suddenly torn from their mothers, fathers or other “primary caregiver”. The complete devastation that must manifest inside these little beings as their world is ripped away from them in an instant. All of a sudden there is not ONE single person that understands their cry, their language or their routines. No one KNOWS them or understands who they are! They are, for whatever reason, taken away from the only truths, comforts and communication that they have ever known and been thrown into a foreign place. Their entire life, world and sense of self must obviously crumble before their innocent and uncomprehending little eyes.

It broke my heart as I thought of it then, and every day since. I see something on television, read something, or as I interact with my daughter, and I am taken back to this sad realization. Every day, there are so many little ones that have their lives torn apart!

It tears at my heart and makes me so grateful for the time I have with my baby girl. We are lucky, and I try to remind myself of that simple fact every day. I try to drink it all in, savor it and enjoy every minute, exactly as it is. I cannot imagine not having her in my life every day, and I can’t even fathom the confusion that would fill my little girls head if something were to take me away from her!

My heart goes out to those who have grown up to know these truths in the core of their souls, and to the precious other little ones that are right now facing this heartbreaking, life changing disturbance (? Understatement!) in their world.



One of THOSE Days

Some days, while you know better, it is just EASIER to succumb to the gloomy feelings that surface. It feels comforting to be wrapped in the arms of the darkness. Allowing yourself to sink into the heaviness of the day and feel its weight upon your body feels RIGHT. Sometimes we just have to give in and BE with the gloominess.

I would suppose that there is something inside that wants to be heard and this is its way of calling out to you; something we need to learn, to remind ourselves or simply acknowledge for what it really is. But, it can sometimes be really heard to listen and watch for these signals; the glimpses of truth, when we are draped in the solace of our “grumpiness”.

Some days, giving into the embrace of a black mood is just what we need. It comes from within and is only asking for recognition. It is coming from some part of us that just NEEDS to be in that state of lower vibrations and slower energy.

In the desert I saw a creature, naked, bestial,

Who, squatting upon the ground,

Held his heart in his hands,

And ate of it.

I said, “Is it good, friend?”

“It is bitter-bitter,” he answered;

“But I like it

Because it is bitter

And because it is my heart.”

– Stephen Crane

Precious Babies

It is, and in some ways may always be, one of those things that we never talk about. There is always a sense of stigma attached to it. We are often left with an overwhelming sense of loneliness that cannot be filled; we don’t realize that we can and should talk about it.

Many of us, and more of us than we often realize, have suffered the traumatic loss of a baby. It is very sad that, as women, we not only have to go through the tremendous loss itself physically and emotionally, but we get left alone to deal with the emotions afterwards and we can be horrifically labeled for something we had absolutely no control over. In an effort to protect ourselves, we then have a tendency to shut down, disconnect from the loss and become numb to it. We don’t talk about it.

I lost 4 precious angels through Ectopic/Tubal Pregnancy. The first one completely blindsided me; I had no idea that I was pregnant. I was, again, having serious abdominal pain that led me to the doctor after work one night. A test confirmed I was pregnant, but, with no explanation at hand for the rest of my symptoms I was sent home for the evening to return for further testing. The next day became a whirlwind; gynecologists, rushing to the hospital, pain medications and of course the news; I would lose this baby. I was utterly devastated and felt truly alone. No one around me had experienced or could even imagine what I was going through. I was very young, in a new relationship and the only words of “comfort” I received were, “Well at least they got rid of it” from the mother of my boyfriend. With the next 2 Ectopic’s, I was ready. When the pain started, I KNEW what was happening. I would spend a few days in denial, not wanting to go through the experience again. I talked to the babies, I pleaded with them and I apologized for not being able to keep them. Other than that, I was almost numb. I had more people around me when I went through the 2nd and 3rd losses, but I was keeping myself guarded. None of the people that I was surrounded by KNEW what I was feeling inside. The last Ectopic that I had was in some ways the worst to go through. My husband and I had talked about wanting to have a child together. It was something I had wanted so BADLY to happen in my life, though I had resigned myself in many ways to believing I wouldn’t be able to. This time the tornado that swept me away was much more violent. I was in my state of denial again; the feelings were all too familiar. I was at work when I began to shake, feel dizzy, turn white and of course was in severe abdominal pain. The girls finally convinced me to at least call the Health Link to speak with a nurse who insisted I be taken to the hospital immediately. By the time my husband arrived and the news was given, I was higher than a kite on morphine for the pain. This was when they decided to also insist on removing both of my tubes to prevent this from happening again. I wanted to refuse so badly, and at first I did. The pressure and the relaxing/sleepy effects of the drugs allowed me to concede. When I woke up from surgery, I no longer had a baby or the parts required for my body to conceive another. I felt more empty than I ever had before. This time, even though I had many supportive and loving people around me, I was an emotional mess. I was finally grieving for my first three angels as well as the fourth. I was grieving the loss of pieces of my body. This time I was also bothered by the fact that NOT ONCE when I went through this process was I offered any type of guidance or support while in the hospital. Aside from nurses comments, “Wow, this is your 4th, you’re so young…”, no one even came close to saying “This is an extremely difficult thing to go through, I am so sorry. Here are some groups/numbers etc. that can help you deal with what you must be feeling.” I felt that I NEEDED that, so I looked on-line and found a few chat places, message boards, nurses etc. that were specifically for dealing with the emotions and aftermath of an Ectopic Pregnancy. It was something I really had to do for myself, I couldn’t bury the feelings and devastation any more. I had to learn to cope, grieve and try to move forward.

The amazing sense of peace that I found in actually letting it out is something that is hard to find words to fully express. Talking to someone, in person, professionally, in an on-line chat/message board, a group etc. can give the comfort that we desperately search for. I know I thought that I would and could accept, mourn and move forward, but I realized that I couldn’t do it on my own. When I realized that there are so many other wonderful women that have gone through what I had, that have walked the same step, I felt a warm sense of comfort and belonging come over me. While I could never say that I have “gotten over it”, I have come to a better sense of terms with it. It is sometimes easy to become overcome with emotions about it still, but I can accept it a little more. And it always helps to remember that I am NOT ALONE.

I have shared these few details with only a small number of people in my life. Most people know the facts, it happened, it happened 4 times, but I haven’t shared the feelings with many. I think it may even be the first time that I wrote it out like this. It is soothing to write these words. I hope that at least one of you who reads this can identify even a little, and maybe feel just a little less alone in your pain and grief.

I Love you my precious babies…