profound depression from the point of view of the disease itself

I love the way our hair falls in front of just one eye.

I love the way our body shakes when you're about to cry.

It makes me feel so strong to tear you down to shame.

You should feel so honored to be a pawn in my little game.

Hold it back. Suck it up. Those feelings are just a lie.

Put on that smile. Stand up straight and let emotion simply die.

Read your lines and close our eyes. Walk the way I say.

Don't tell your friends, don't shed a tear. Just tell them that you're ok.

I am the voice inside your soul. I am the creeping pain.

I am the reason, I am the weight. I am your crutch and cane.

I tell you that you need me if you want to feel complete.

Im killing you, what a show. Come on now, have a seat.

You never stood a chance against me, I held you before you were born.

Now we are one, destroying all. A beautiful person....but torn.

Ripped and shredded. Cracked and Decayed. Broken and left to rot.

I am all you have to hold, the cold comfort you've always sought. 

It doesn't matter how you fight. You can't run from your very soul.

Eventually one day, so very soon, all that running will take its tole. 

You won't get up. The weight will grow. That last effort won't be there

Then I'll creep in to take your pain leaving only that vacant stare.

The rest will quit. They'll shake their heads. They'll walk away from what we are

Accept it...leave it. let them go. Whats just one more scar?

I Cant Write Songs I Can Write Poems With Bad Form

 I'm so lucky, I seem to have it all
 but the pedestal is cracked and built for me to fall.

 Buy me all the things to make my world complete,
 tell me that I'm lucky that my life just cant be beat.

 I could tell you why you're wrong but I'd rather just fake it through.
 Why bother getting judged when I can be just like you.

 Hold me down, break my spirit. I'll accept it when you're done.
This is right, now I'm perfect. The world has finally won.

I drone through, my guilt will lead the way.
I can fool the whole world, I know just what to say.

 The luckiest girl who ever lived may not be allowed true pain.
Nothing in life is bad enough to outweigh what she has to gain.

 Let her die slowly, dismiss anything that made her real.
Work harder, look better, do more and to hell with the way you feel.

Life can be imprisoning, isolation at best.
Simple to see the bad but blinded to the rest.

Its Not All Bad

If only in the moments when it seems as bad as it could possibly get I could remember this one little phrase....Its not all bad. Hell, if only we could all remember it. I am no ray of poetic sunshine. My muse is and always has been misery. I can see the dark and I can exploit it, I can make it shine by making it real. What I have never been able to do is glorify what is already good. But I can try.....The feeling I had and the look on Eric's face the day we decided "F*$% it lets have babies!" will never die in my memory. Its not something you can recreate or compare to anything else. Something that the thought of alone can bring excitement and happiness of the purest kind is pretty powerful, and I made those somethings. I haven't done everything right, I make mistakes that eat at my heart and mind every single night. Yet every morning they wake up happy to see me, they love me and need me. This is the kind of love not everyone receives in life. I have been under the impression that my luck is poor because i'm not looking at the real picture. Only the luckiest people on earth have what I have. I get to play zombies anytime I want. I get to rewrite the rules of reality and tell stories that will never be questioned. High fives are never denied, and hugs from your my kids are pretty much the cure to anything. It takes a lot to maintain this life. It's hard work and I usually have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm convinced it's worth while. I love them. I call them monsters, I complain about them endlessly, they have driven me to tears and tantrums of my own. I have written numerous blog entries that make it sound as if I could walk away from it all, but in the end you will just have to believe me. I wouldn't change a thing, I love them more than my own misery, they will always win that battle.

Smothered to Loneliness

I had decided before I started typing that this entry would be about loneliness and it took me some time to put to words how someone who has next to no time alone can be lonely. I suppose there are many forms of loneliness. Some are lonely, missing someone specific while others are lonely only because they were alone from the start. I think there may be a grey area combining the two. Then there is me....lonely while surrounded in people that seemingly have no idea who you are, or the perception they have isn't the one you meant to portray. Lonely because all of your thoughts are longer than anyone wants to listen. Lonely because the people that are willing to hear you are just out of reach until life can change enough to bring them back. Children have a funny way of filling your heart with love you didn't know you could have while draining the emotions you used to think you needed. I'm fairly trapped these days, regardless of what many other moms or parenting advice columns may say. I leave only when I have to in fear of what I describe to my husband as "the horror" that occurs during most outings. My friend choices can no longer be made by my own heart and mind but by a checklist of characteristics I find suitable to be around my children and a checklist of how much this friend can put up with from the monsters. There is a void there where freedom used to live, but also a feeling of pride and "challenge accepted". There are plenty of you that have made it through the screening process I call my life, I only wish now that you are accepted that I had the time or energy to reach out to you. Daily life is a series of loud noises, sudden distractions, messes, destruction and occasional adorable acts to make up for the previously listed events. Throughout this my mind is functioning at about 40% while my physical reflexes make up for the other 60%. After the 23rd time the bowl of crackers goes toppling off the table I can practically fly through the air in slow motion like something out of the matrix and catch the bowl without even realizing I did it. However I have trouble matching my socks or remembering if Im wearing makeup when I rub my eyes. The day ends. Brain function has dwindled to about 20% and the man I married is left with an empty shell of what used to be his wife. I can barely smile, I've either given up completely on the sofa or am running on "clean the house autopilot". I miss being more for him, I miss having time to be in love like teenagers, I miss us. To be honest, when I say I'm lonely its because I'm missing that one person nobody should ever lose. I miss me.

Good Enough but not Better

In comparison to every other mother I know I sometimes really wonder what my life looks like. Do they all wake up ready to shoot laser beams at whatever or whoever is forcing them to wake up regardless of what time it is? Does the sound of their child's voice asking the same question for the 20th time make them grind their teeth to keep from running out the door screaming " I QUIT"? But most importantly do they find themselves thinking "What is the point in all of this??". The daily expectation of a stay at home parent, or even the part time working parent seems unattainable. Nobody can do it to the successful standard of the world, and if you tell me you do I will call you a liar. The tiniest inconvenience or deviance to a preset plan can set the whole day on fire. I subscribe to Better Homes and Gardens (because my little sister was selling it for a fundraiser) and I have to tell you it all looks nice but what we REALLY  need is a "Normal Homes and Yards". Something to look through that makes you realize your cruddy, messy house that has been taken over by your children is average. It's normal, its expected, and quite frankly it makes the rest of us take a big sigh of relief when we walk in. Every day I wake up and lay around for maybe an hour dreading all of tasks that "have" to be done. The dishes, the laundry, the dusting, the vacuuming, paying the bills, preparing a dinner, clean the litter boxes, take out the dog, try to keep the toys somewhat organized so they dont all get lost and broken. That list goes on, mutating and multiplying by the day. The point is where is the part where I play with my kids, teach them things, show them what life SHOULD be about? Well to be honest its not there, at least not enough of it. I keep them alive, feed them, teach them the basics that I can fit in and make sure they dont kill each other. But really... where is the happy medium? Because I dont live in better homes and gardens. Despite the endless list of things I do and need to do my house, garden,  children, meal plan and general life will never be perfect. And neither will yours. I think the answer lies within. Something about leaving behind the jealousy and accepting your own standard of happiness. As of now I haven't found that peace of mind but I suppose it's something to work towards.

Is There a Book, Blog or Magazine for that?

When I was pregnant for the first time I was 21 years old and my experience with babies and children was limited to my younger sister who I honestly didn't take a huge interest in during her younger years. I would later regret that as she was a very difficult baby and probably could have taught me something about what I had coming to me with my son. When my daughter (now 3 1/2) was born I was the expert. I knew everything that the internet had to offer. I could tell you about nutrition, learning, emotional development, parenting styles, the latest greatest and safest products. I was a veritable encyclopedia of baby knowledge. And hey, that's all well and good if your baby fits the books description. Mine did and at that point I was convinced they all did. I scoffed at parents who said they're children were difficult or different because I just assumed they were doing something wrong or not informed well enough. Yes, I was that mom. Autumn proceeded to potty train like a dream, listen to what she was told and eat all her veggies at dinner.  And then along came Jude. From the start he was lodged in my hip, weighed 10 pounds 5 ounces and had the loudest voice in the hospital. No matter, he would fit the books just like his older sister. So home we went, me a little rusty on all the baby knowledge but confident and armed with Google, Babycenter.com, and the army of  facebook moms who would answer all my questions. It took about 3 weeks before I realized my son is not a google baby. There is no issue of parenting magazine to explain him or his needs and not a single one of you facebook friends has exactly the right answer. While the support has been much appreciated I was still left confused and frustrated. I checked out the biggest book at the library about babies. I looked into methods that I was against and ones that i wasn't.  I was ignoring the only two places that had the answer to raising Jude. The hearts of my husband and myself.  Currently, along side his many other challenging quirks, Jude has been screaming like something out of a horror movie for what seems like and may be hours in the dark hours of the morning. After posting about it and concerning myself with allowing him to sleep in our bed to bring him some comfort I realized that in the end they are all different. Nobody can tell me what the right thing is for Jude....except maybe Jude. I won't be making a new years resolution this year but if I had to make a change I guess that it would be to open my heart a lot more and to encourage others to do the same. Babies and children grow up and leave so fast that I cant see shoving them into a category, a website, a book or a set of rules. I just need to learn that it's not about where they sleep, what they eat or what kind of sippy cup they use. Love is what raises them, and I won't ever need a book to teach me how to love.

Death Didn't Take You Away

Many years ago I wrote you a letter. I cant remember what it said, or where I put it...just that is was the most important and life changing piece of paper that I ever held. I put it in an envelope and I started to form a plan to safely ensure that I could say my peace. You never got to read it, I never got to send it. This world just couldn't let you stay. What would I tell you now? I would tell you that my whole life there was a hole inside of me. Something like the way a flame burns paper, it just kept growing and evolving in a singed untamed mess. Somehow when you died you seemed more attainable, closer than ever before. I would shuffle my preset radio stations asking the next song to be from you, a message...something to fill the blank. Staring at mirrors for what seemed like hours in a trance, watching my own face melt before my tired eyes and just hoping to find a glimpse of you in myself. When I was lonely and lost I would drive to your grave, sometimes in the middle of the night, and sit there. I never said a word, and it never made me feel any more whole. I never blamed you, even when I was supposed to, for the way my life played out. Things all work out and our hearts and fate lead us right where we should be. I'm all grown up and the wound is still there, but I no longer need you to heal it. Yet sometimes I wish you could see, I wonder what you would think, and I hurt because I know you can't. Would you be proud of who I am and embrace all my quirks, sensitivity and insanity?  I like to think that death took you to a place where you can see me and appreciate all that you've made possible. To be honest, when Im all alone driving at night and there are no other cars on the road, I pick a star and I claim it as you. I assume that star is shining brighter than any of the other stars specifically for me. Its silly, its childish, but it gets me through.