I’ve been putting off writing this, and I always have a different excuse.
I’m too tired, and I wouldn’t have the energy to get through it.
I need to do other things, like laundry or emptying the dishwasher or scrubbing the carpet, because Logan took off his poop-filled diaper and dumped it on the ground…again.
I keep making excuses, but really, I haven’t written this because I have no idea where it’s going to go or what I’ll end up revealing about myself or discovering about myself.
Oh, that, and my cynicism doesn’t want me admitting that I have feelings, and sometimes they’re not awesome ones, and that I can be vulnerable sometimes.
And I did the deep, winding, poetic, pontificate-y writing in high school, and it can sound way too full-of-yourself-ish, so I try to avoid it.
Also, I don’t feel like anyone’s going to read this, but it really needs to be said, for my own sanity.
So that’s that, but I’ll stop making excuses and get to it.
When I began blogging, in May of last year, I had just had my first miscarriage. It was the kind of event I would have, in high school, written about for ages and ages – as free-verse poetry, as a sort of memoir, and as a fictional story that happened to my alter ego (a redhead with freckles and big boobs, who still doesn’t have a name). I would have written it to death, trying to heal myself by catharsis. It’s what I did for years, and I was really good at it.
But that wasn’t my thing anymore. I wasn’t dark and depressing and full of feelings that I just had to share ALL THE TIME anymore; I had put up walls and colored myself a cynic. I stopped acknowledging any feelings I had, besides sarcasm and these weird, manic episodes, where I was absolutely untouchable and immortal. I believe the name for it is “high school graduation.”
I had stopped believing in the good in anyone, due to the actions of a certain male who put me through hell and basically destroyed me emotionally between late 2004 and, oh, I guess it ran all the way to the beginning of 2007, when I lost my mind one afternoon when he drove by my school, and I followed him in my car for roughly a mile, so I could talk to him one last time and get closure.
My mom and my boyfriend at the time basically had heart attacks when they found out I was talking to him, because he was essentially Satan to them. And with good reason, considering the way he treated me. I can’t believe that was over five years ago now.
I’m digressing. Stick with me, I’ll get back to where I was.
My blogging started out as just a way to get my thoughts “on paper.” Then I decided I wanted to start blogging “for real,” and eventually make some money off of it (haha…oh, how naive I was…), and I was going to cook a lot and make crafts and stuff, and maybe wear some cool clothes and show them off. I still haven’t moved any of my recipes over to this blog; they’re all still over at my old one, if you want to take a look at them. I just looked back over them myself, and there’s some really tasty stuff on there.
Digressing again.
When Andy and I moved to where we live now (over an hour away from where I spent 18 out of my first 21 years of life), I felt a shift in my life coming on. I didn’t know what it was going to mean for my future or my family, but I knew it was coming, and I knew it was going to be huge.
It all seemed to come at me at once.
The highs: getting the awesome privilege of being mentored by the phenomenal Brittany Gibbons, moving to my own domain (you know, here), gaining the TINIEST bit of recognition for my writing (it’s like METH), getting pregnant for the third time, living in our own house, getting the type of hospital job I’d wanted for so long, and eventually even getting a for-real writing job at what is, in my humble opinion, the greatest online magazine ever, and writing one of their most successful and controversial articles to date.
The lows: losing my third pregnancy, learning the hard way that you need to have thick skin if you’re going to write something online that’s both controversial and personal, struggling with whether or not I’ll actually be able to have another child or two (in my mind now, every pregnancy ends at 10 weeks, like my last two did; it’s bizarre, I’ll try to explain later), having an identity crisis that I never believed could happen to me, and the growing feeling that nursing is, woefully, not where I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life.
Oh, and the newest thing, and the reason I have written basically NOTHING of substance in the last six weeks or so…I constantly feel like I’m on the verge of an anxiety attack. In fact, at dinner at my parents’ house three nights ago, I almost had a complete breakdown. My dad was saying grace, and out of nowhere, I burst out laughing…and crying. Had I not been so uncomfortable and embarrassed and forced myself to pull it together, I think I could have cried for a good hour or two. And I have no idea why.
Guys…I think I need Xanax. Or something. I think I might be depressed, or have some sort of anxiety disorder. I honestly want to just crawl out of my own skin about half the time. I’ll want to just quit everything, sometimes. Even writing, and that’s my favorite thing IN THE ENTIRE WORLD.
Thinking about going back to work in 14 hours gives me this feeling like having the wind literally sucked out of me. It puts me on the brink of a panic attack every time, even though, once I’m actually at work, I do alright. I enjoy my coworkers and my patients, and only, like, 15% of my total time there, do I have to deal with stuff that’s so disgusting, it’s unspeakable. Plus, I’m so thankful to have such a fantastic job, amongst such great coworkers and patients, in an economy as bad as ours, that I could just cry. Of course, I could just cry anyway. Like, a lot.
I’m trying to reconcile being a Christ-follower (I don’t use the word “Christian” much anymore, because of the connotation that has so unfortunately come to surround it, but that’s another rant, entirely), a writer and blogger, a mother, a wife, and a twenty-one-year-old who has ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA what she wants to be when she grows up.
For reasons I don’t really want to explain in detail (because it’s 1:15 am, and you don’t want to listen to it anyway, because it’s a bunch of boring logistics), I kind of have to go through nursing school, even though I don’t have any drive for it anymore. Nobody believes me when I tell them that; I keep getting told I’m basing that decision off the job I have now, and that my job is not a good representation of what I will be doing as an RN…but that’s not the case. I just don’t want to do it anymore. It doesn’t interest me.
I have no clue what I want to do now.
I want to be an activist of some kind. I want to DO something instead of just talking about things. I want to make a difference in people’s lives.
I want to start a home for pregnant teens who have been kicked out of their own houses.
I want to stand up for those who are under- or uninsured.
I want to improve people’s overall health, maybe by becoming a dietician.
I want to keep people informed about what’s going on in the world by writing…and writing…and writing…and writing.
Maybe I even want to get certified to do in-home daycare.
My gosh, my head is a tangled web of un-poetic crap right now. If you’re still with me, you’re totally my new best friend, and also, probably a saint.
Anyway, I just wanted you all to know that this is where I am in life right now. I’m lost, I’m anxious to the point of shortness of breath about 80% of the time, I’m on the verge of tears nearly every waking minute because of the anxiety and stress, I’m having a mind-blowing identity crisis, and I’m doing all of this while trying to be this cool blogger/social media chick, being a mother, being a wife, and somehow be perfect at all of it, all at the same time.
I’m so far from perfect. I’m such a mess right now, in every conceivable way. I need a vacation, both physically and mentally, and maybe a mood stabilizer. And that thought is terrifying to me, because I feel like I won’t even be me anymore. I feel like I’ll be bland and uninteresting, and I won’t have anything clever to say, because I’ll just be “normal,” and my brain and the wit that I fancy myself to be so full of will just get bowled over by drugs. I don’t want to admit there’s something wrong with me. I want to be strong and perfect and funny and emotionally untouchable.
See? This is why I was afraid of writing this. Because now you know how broken and scattered I am, and I have no idea what you’ll do with that…or me…now that you know.
So…awkward, non-fulfilling end of this post, I guess. Thanks for reading, guys. It means the world to me, so much more than you could ever know.
Just read this post and a couple others…you are funny with a real talent for making the “mundane” interesting…I’m impressed.
Reading this I expected you to be much older as you sound sooo much like my wife…seriously, this post could have been written by her, except for us having 3 kids, and her being stuck at home…which makes housekeeping even less fun…our kids ruin everything! Anyway, she’s hilarious too…but def. gets overwhelmed with all of it from time-to-time…..
oh, and she wrote really dark poetry in high school and has started up with that again….hopefully you don’t pick that back up….things are much easier when you just write angst-filled post infused with lots and lots of humor…lol
Thank you! I think the only way I really cope with stuff is with sarcasm and humor. I don’t want to get into the dark, depressing stuff again. That wasn’t a fun place to be mentally.
Thanks for reading!
I’ve been where you are, and it is exhausting and awful. (Actually, no adjective can properly describe how horrible it is.) Don’t be afraid to get some help: counseling in order to find out what’s going on, psychiatrist if needed in order to prescribe the correct medicine. (Most MDs don’t know jack in this area.) The proper mood stabilizer will [underline] not [end underline] will not change who you are. It could improve it and help you be “normal.”
Hang in there, but do seek some professional help.
Thank you. It really is horribly exhausting. I think I want to try something for anxiety first, because I’ve heard horror stories about anti-depressants. It’s good to know I’m still going to be myself…that’s what I’m most scared of, is losing myself to chemicals.
Reading your post I feel as if you’ve bared your soul to me. I can tell that writing this has helped you a bit — to release some of the pressure that you feel from all of life right now.
You have a lot on your plate, and obviously you’re a very strong person although your situation seems to you to be over the edge at times.
I’m just 22 myself, and have had serious issues in my life to deal with but through it all by appreciating the beauty of life, love, and the world around me have been able to deal with it .. (I hope)
I can’t offer any insightful advice, as I don’t have any for myself except that things always seem worse than they are, and time heals all wounds.
You have a loving husband and a child who loves you. You’ll do just fine in the arms of your family.
Wishing you all the best with total respect,
Jim
Thanks so much. Sometimes you don’t even need advice. Sometimes it’s enough to just know someone out there is listening and rooting for you…so thank you
Kristen. You have my email address? You need to email me. We are cut from the EXACT same cloth my dear. I feel like you broke open a valve and let out everything that goes through your soul in those wee dark hours of the night and I know that feeling so well it’s scary. Email me, and we will talk.
You are incredible. And wonderful.
I’m going to write you back later today. You are awesome, and I kinda love ya. In the least weird way possible.
Everyone is saying the most supportive things! I can’t compete with that.
I just wanted to add something else. It’s OK to not know what you want to be when you “grow up.” One of my husband’s close friends was asking him what he wanted to be when he “grew up,” and my husband responded by saying, “But I am grown up.”
I think that’s the way I see things, too. You’re still young (relatively), and who knows where life will take you, but you are an adult, and you are grown up. Rather than worry about what you’re GOING to be when you grow up, look at what you are now that you are a grown up. Woman, you are an adult, you are a grown up. You work at a hospital, and you also are a writer.
Does that mean you’re going to work at a hospital and be a writer your whole life? Not necessarily. But, as a grown up, that’s what you’re doing now. You’ve made it. You’re here. Grown up, adult, working, doing great things.
Maybe one day you will, say, run a day care or be a dietitian. That’s possible. And that’s what you’ll be then. But for now, as a grown up, you are a CNA. You are a writer. Own it. You’ve come this far.
It’s never too late to change what you’re doing or your path in life. Middle-aged people do it all the time. It’s totally cool if you decide to change direction at some point because things aren’t set like cement. But don’t think you’re not somewhere. Don’t think you haven’t reached full-on adulthood or that a career is far off in the distance that you’ll only reach one day as a 40 year old or something. No. You’re grown up. You’re a wife. You’re a mother. You’re a CNA. You’re a writer. Be proud, and live where you are now instead of focusing on where you’re not or what you’re not doing. If at some point you decide to, say, be a dietitian, then go to school and do it. If that’s not what you want to do now (or something you can’t do now) than screw it. There’s no use making yourself miserable over what you’re not doing. Love what you’re doing now, and conquer the next mountain when it’s time.
Thanks
Sometimes it’s just hard to appreciate what I have and what I’m doing now because I want so much more. I just want to know what’s going to happen.
namaste kristen, thank-you for sharing your feelings. you cannot imagine how important this post might be for someone! hey girl, after two miscarriages your hormones are probably confused! it sucks, but i respect you for looking this agony in the face, as i am sure all of your readers do. being vulnerable is something every soul must negotiate and it is perhaps our greatest human challenge. maybe the wanting to be “strong and perfect and funny and emotionally untouchable” is part of the rub? ironically, being vulnerable is actually what makes us strong! however, we are literally bombarded with the messages from our media culture that it is so desirable to be cool (even cold), untouchable, and disinterested! not only is that message so not real, it is also virtually impossible and literally destructive. your job and your pregnancies are good examples of how messy and un contained life can really be. to deny feelings of pain,loss, and uncertainty also involves a denial of all that fills us with joy (it seems you have expressed this as well) – because agony and joy are part of the same package. would it be helpful to know that what you are feeling is natural? the transition from idealism to mundane life is an arduous process. it takes time and space to sort out what we really believe from what we have been led to accept. i say, keep thinking for yourself; keep writing (you are a highly perceptive and an engaging writer), writing helps us to understand what we think we know; keep putting one foot in front of the other on the toughest days; and make room for yourself to cry sometimes…it’s cleansing, helps us to see more clearly, and it releases endorphins that make us feel better! you are embarking on a quest that few actually take, and you will not only survive this, you will grow solid like an oak tree. blessings to you and your family, kristen. hold fast to love ❤
Thank you! Your words are so encouraging…I’ve read them at least four times since you wrote this. It means so much to me.
you’re so welcome, kristen! i am sending hope that today is a better one.
Kristen,
The guilt I carry is incredible. However, I do have xanax for my panic, paxil for my PPMD (because honestly, for me, that’s all it seems to help with), & am starting ADHD meds for my miriad of other issues that revolve around it.
I feel like I have just read parts of my journal (that I keep in my head) reading your story. I have blocks of my childhood that I literally DO NOT remember, at all. I wonder frequently if that is where some of my pain comes from. I come from a Southern Baptist dad, & a non-practicing Catholic mother who divorced when I was 12, & everything has been a competition from that point. I have a brother (who’s a 30 minute drive from me) that I miss everyday, & a sister (who may be 10 minutes away) that I absolutely despise. My Husband is truly my very best friend, & a 10 year old that I fear (irrationally) I have severly damaged. His bio-father commited suicide by shotgun in 2004, we were not together, but we were friends for 17 years, it broke me. So my son spent 6 years in the same hell I lived in with my mother, because I blindly hoped she would do better for him
You are incredibly brave to say(type) all of these things outloud, & I admire you. I am 36, & sometimes am still to chicken to do the same. I may not have much to offer other than advice from my own experiences, but I will always be happy to listen. You can email me anytime charleysslim@yahoo.com. You have what you need to be anything you choose, a loving, supportive husband, & your brave soul. ~Carrie
Thank you so much for sharing your story. It takes strength just to do that, for sure. That’s why I put this off for so long. Thank you for reading, and for your kind words. Sometimes it helps so much just to know someone’s out there listening and supporting you.
Hang in there. And if you don’t want to go to nursing school: don’t! Trust me, if you already know you don’t want to do it, don’t waste your time and money. I thought I would always love teaching, but after eight years, I’m wondering what else there is. You don’t have to know what you want to be when you grow up. What you want might change, many times. And that’s okay.
Thank you Kelli! I used to want this so badly, but now I feel like I want to do ALL these other things. Honestly, I don’t know if I can do one single thing for the rest of my life. Blehhhhh. Maybe I’ll get lucky with some writing stuff eventually and I can take some time off just to figure it out.
Thanks again, lady xo
you’re amazing never think anything different! Kick depression right in the ass and say I’m way to cool for that shit! You can talk to me whenever! :-*
You are awesome! Haha thanks…I am totally too cool for this depression shit!
Go talk to your doctor. Seriously, right now, go make an appointment and get this taken care of. Medication, when administered properly, will not change YOU. It’ll just make all those stupid freaking buzzing, intrusive thoughts shut up. I’ve been on meds for over a year now and it’s great. I still get ridiculously excited over small things like seeing my first tumble weed: I still get pissed when my husband forget for the third time to put the clothes on the top of his dresser away: I still get annoyed: I still have no patience for drivers who can’t merge properly. In short, if the meds are making you numb, they aren’t the right ones for you and you have as much input in what meds are chosen for you as your doctor or psychiatrist does. Going through life feeling out of control and on the verge of meltdown is not a way to live. Counting your blessings is good, but if there’s a chemical imbalance it needs to be addressed. Looking on the bright side isn’t going to make it go away.
I can already feel that “looking on the bright side” isn’t the cure for this. This is a whole other level of crappy-ness. Thank you so much for this. I appreciate it more than I can say.
You’re very welcome. I am kind of with you right now. Due to the cross country move, I am seeing a new doctor and he recommended lowering the dose I was on. He had valid reasons, but I think we went below what works for me because the last few days I have wanted to curl in a corner and cry all day. It sucks and it also sucks to need meds. Some days I struggle with how I feel about being on them because my family is pretty much ‘only see the doctor if your bone is sticking out or you’re dying’. I don’t always want to be that person who needs meds, but I think I will take that over how I feel right now.
Thank you for writing this and making me feel like I am not alone.
You are so welcome, and thank you for reading. I knew I couldn’t be alone. I want to bring this awful feeling out of the shadows, from the very beginning of my real battle with it. I’ll be keeping this story updated.
Much love, lady.
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