Posted in bébé, Life, Mental Health

Instagram (Facebook) world


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Welcome to a world where everyone shares everything.  And by everything I mean small snippets of their lives that they deem worthy and acceptable to share.   I try to be open and honest with myself.  Especially, now, with a young child.  I know that I am not perfect.  I know that I am not the best, brightest, most beautiful.  I see my flaws (probably more than I should), but who could tell that based on just Instagram?  Social media sometimes makes life harder than it needs to be.  We still need to connect with each other in real life.

The Z girls catching some zzzs in the late afternoon sunshine.

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Many years ago before Facebook and all this I had a co-worker of mine tell me that she always knew when I was upset.  I asked her how?  She told me that I get quiet when something is bothering me.  I didn’t even realize this myself and really no one else has ever made this very astute observation.  These past four years in Oregon have been a very quiet time for me.  It’s past time I start making some noise.

Thinking about this now I realize it is probably something that I developed as a child.  Something to help keep me safe in the unstable house I grew up.  There was lots of yelling and name calling in my house.  I would hide under my bed for hours until I became too big to fit nicely.  To this day I hate yelling.  I cannot bear to be around people who are yelling or arguing.  The rational side of my brain says that arguing is alright, but the side of my brain that is a little girl just wants to hide.

Trying out the Moby again.

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Confrontation makes me super uncomfortable and  it is something I need to work on.  I need to learn how to stand up for myself and those I care about.  I want to be a warrior instead of a worrier.  I just don’t know how to get from point A to point B.  Especially when my whole life when I’ve wanted something for myself I’ve been told that I’m selfish.  How, do I make a leap of faith when my self-esteem is so low that jokes knock the wind out of my sails?  I need to figure this all out especially since I’m a role mode for my sweet bébé. I want her to be fearless.  I want her be able to do the things she wants and not worry if I’ll be there to catch her.  I want her to stand up for herself and others.

Super excited about making a cake for the first time since bebe was born.

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In order for this to happen I need to work on myself.  Tuesday, I begin therapy again.  I’m hopeful that I’ll be able to make some progress.  First step is to eliminate this crippling anxiety that makes me question everything.  I know that there is no quick fix and that I’ll revisit my issues again and again throughout my life, but that is another good example for bébé.  She will grow up knowing that when you need help it’s okay.  Everyone needs help from time to time.  I also want her to always feel loved.  I’ve had many moments in my life where I did not felt loved, or wanted, or cared for.

Okay, enough rambling for today.  This sleep deprived mama needs some dinner.


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Posted in Baby Redmond, Family

Part of My Story

The baby is coming soon.  My due date is 10 short weeks away and this has me thinking.  Thinking about my future and thinking about my past.

I was born on the last day of winter in 1981.  A few more hours and I would have been born in spring.  I know what hospital I was born at.  I know the time and how big I was, but I do not know much else.  I have very few photos of myself as a child. The ones I do have were squirreled away by my aunt and my grandma. Saved from the ravages of  my mother and a nasty divorce.




I truly believe that my parents should have never been married in the first place. I realize this would have resulted in both myself and my sister not being born, but this is still a truth I believe to my core.  My parents married when my mother was 5 months pregnant with me.  They story goes that they married so I would not be aborted.  My sister came along less than two years later and they were separated heading for divorce before she turned one.

I have very few memories of my mother.  She left one day and didn’t come back for ten years.  One memory is of my father striking her and her falling to the ground in the drive way of our house.  Another is at her house in Sacramento that she shared with her new boyfriend where she would have doll parties and I was not allowed to touch the dolls.  That house had another memory of her boyfriend making me clean up my own throw-up, remember I was only 3 at the time.


She returned when I was in the 8th grade.  I’m unsure what she was expecting, but my skepticism and teen angst was not it.  She wanted my to be a loving adoring daughter and I felt she was a stranger.  She left and returned many times in my life since then.  The last time being about 5 years ago when Alex and I were about to move to Maryland.  She wanted to have a relationship with me and at the time I had been seeing a therapist about all my childhood shit.  I was feeling forgiving towards her.  I suggested that we get to know each other over e-mail during the year I was gone and see if we could build a relationship.  I e-mailed her a couple of times, but when I received no response I stopped.  She did not want to put the effort into getting to know me as a person, she just wanted me to act like she had been around my entire life.  Maybe I’m in the wrong, but not allowing people in my life to treat me badly no matter if they are related to me or not is better for my soul and for my child.