Monday, June 3, 2013


I've been waiting to post. I have a big huge idea for a post that I need to do, more for me than anything else. Really I write for me. When I do write.

This last week or two has been kinda rough for me. I'm 7 days away from a full month of not smoking and I ditched the horrible Chantix. I hit a point with the Chantix where dying was starting to sound like a beautiful and wonderful idea. That day I knew I had to stop. My girls are incredibly proud of me for not smoking anymore. I didn't realize how much THEY wanted me to quit. Their excitement over me putting down the cigarettes is reason enough to stick with it. I don't want to disappoint my kids if I can at all avoid it.

See, I haven't always been a great parent. I don't even know that I'm a great parent now. What I do know is that I have improved exponentially since the early years. In the early years I was overworked, overtired, and overwhelmed. My girls had their needs met. I worked long and hard hours, but emotionally I just wasn't invested or present. I couldn't be, I couldn't find time to be. I worked 45-60 hours a week and was lucky to get 4 hours of sleep a night. I wasn't taking care of myself physically, mentally, or even emotionally. I merely existed. I followed every step given to me by every therapist and doctor, faithfully, no questions asked. I truly believed I was being a great parent.

Fast forward a few years... it really wasn't until 2010 that I started to realize that I was doing things all wrong. That I really liked the Xanax prescription my doctor gave me a little too much (okay a LOT too much but that was a secret). I truly believe in many ways that Xander saved me. Saved all of us. I loved Xanax, but I loved Xander more. The night pregnancy test came back positive I stopped. I couldn't have done it without the support I was blessed with (and hours long phone calls) by two people who have never ever given up on me even in my worst moments. A lot more happened... we're just going to fast forward again.

So now we have this baby and we're desperately fighting to get services. Beth is over 3 so EI is out of the picture and there's NO ONE willing to help. She's too young for everywhere we try and the few people that will see her tell me they are pretty sure she's schizophrenic and they can't handle that in a 4 year old. Joelene is busy destroying everything she can get her hands on, Peter won't talk. Hell, he'll only scream. For hours. Every day. We start evals for Peter and my job says "Sorry, this isn't working out."

THAT is where I started to realize that I wasn't a good mother.

And this is a good place to stop because this is going to lead into where I'm headed next.

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