I keep wavering in and out of this depression that I can't seem to shake, and it's started to make me think a lot about my eating habits, mainly because when I'm upset, all I want is food. That's unfortunate because the weight that I keep packing on is certainly not helping this irritating depression go away.
I was being really good there for a while, trying to eat right and take care of myself and stay away from the stuff that isn't good for me (caffeine, sugar, fried foods). Now, though, every time I start to get down (which happens quite a few times each day), all I want is alcohol or a cigarette or food (although mainly it's food), especially sugary foods. The entire time I'm bingeing, there's this voice in the back of my head that's saying: stop eating, you're only making it harder on yourself, but every time I hear that voice, I just force myself to ignore it. Or, even worse, I say to myself: whatever, it's just this one time and then I'll go back to being good.
But it's never just that one time, it's always multiple times, and I always leave feeling multiple times worse than the last time....and I still can't make myself stop.
I have to get control of this. The thing is that on top of the self-doubt and sadness that I have because of the miscarriages, I'm then left to deal with this feeling of disgust with myself, with my weight, and with my appearance. I've even been really broken out lately, which is just a physical manifestation of the stress I'm going through, not to mention I'm sure it's somehow related to the types of food that have been going into my body lately.
I did Weight Watchers for a long time, but I can't do that anymore. I don't have time for it, and even though it works, I don't think it's practical or easy to do. H keeps telling me that my self-image is severely distorted, but I think that he's just being a good husband and trying to make me feel better about myself. And I often wonder if the real situation is that he feels grossed out everytime he sees me naked.
I'm sure it's the case.
What I don't understand is how it's possible that in the past years of my life (mainly between 1999 and 2002) I was so much thinner, and yet SO much more unhealthy. I would think that not smoking pot, not smoking cigarettes, not drinking copious amounts of alcohol, and not eating fast food for nearly every meal would actually enhance my health, but as it appears, it's only made me fatter.
I'm not saying that I would want to go back to those times in my life, but I just want to understand. This is my life-long struggle: to understand things. Why do I have to be fatter when I'm actually caring for my body than I was when I didn't give a damn about it? Why am I miscarrying pregnancies when my body is as healthy as it's been in probably my whole life? Why have all of my friends disappeared? (That last question seems a bit out of place, but it's just one of the zillions of preguntas that pop into my mind when I get into this type of mood.)
The thing is this: I want to be a good person. I want to take care of my body. I want to be a good wife to H. I want to be a good student. I want to be a good mother. I want to be a good friend. And I really try to be and do all of those things. It's just that sometimes, I start to feel like I'm failing...and I get so weary from the fight....
And that's when I start eating.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Sunday, January 27, 2008
This unshakeable sadness
I keep having these bouts of sadness. I know it should be something I should maybe expect, but what's so weird about it is that these bouts are accompanied by longing for something that I don't even know...or like...I don't know how to explain it. It's like I feel sad and upset, but at the same time I feel nostalgic and I feel a longing to be at a different time in my life. Does that make any sense? I guess it's like a sort of longing for the innocence of the pre-miscarriages times of my life. It seems like all other worries and cares just pale in comparison to the emotions and anxiety caused by having these multiple miscarriages. I never thought this would happen.
Of course, all these sort of things are running through my mind: was I not eating right? Is this punishment for things I've done in the past? Will I ever actually be capable of bearing a healthy child? Is god telling me I'm not supposed to be a mother? Do I not take care of my body? Is there something inherently wrong with my chromosomes? Stupid questions, right?
Yeah right. Everyone keeps telling me not to worry about things like that or not to think that it's my fault (or even worse, that it could NEVER be my fault), but I'm having such a hard time. It comes in spurts, too. It's not that I'm always sad or always upset, but it's like one minute I'll be fine and the next I'll be a basketcase.
The other emotion that's relatively new to me is this sensation of complete isolation, like no one really GETS what is happening to me, emotionally or physically. I have H, who tries his best to understand, but I feel like it's all so perfunctory to everyone, but it's such a big deal to me, every time I start really thinking about it I feel like all the energy is being sucked out of me, like I can feel those intense stomach pains all over again. Is there no one to talk to about this? I feel like it's not a big deal to anyone, or like it's constantly being invalidated by people.
Last night, for example, one of my good friends came over for dinner. He's got a cold, so I invited him to come over. I cooked, I cleaned and I served him dinner and he didn't once ask me how I was doing, or give me any words of comfort. I know he's not the type to ignore other people's pain, but it was a bit surprising to me, I have to admit. And then there's my brothers, who I have pretty much completely given up on. They didn't mention anything last time--no "I'm really sorry" or anything--and now they most certainly haven't mentioned anything this time. They're so caught up in themselves and their own lives.
They can be such assholes. I don't even feel bad for saying that.
I feel sad about it all. I feel sad that at a time in my life when all I really want is to feel the real bonds of family, I'm completely lacking those connections. I just feel sad, I guess there's no other way to explain it.
H and I were talking about planting two plants for the babies that I've lost. I think they're going to be fruit trees.
Also, I keep having all these extremely anxious dreams that are driving me crazy. I HATE people that are sad for no reason. I want to just drop-kick them. I was thinking to myself all the while that the miscarriage was happening of how painful life is....
They say life is pain. It is pain. Moments that should be the most beautiful of all moments can be so tainted that it's impossible to imagine them any other way. It's impossible to imagine finding out I'm pregnant and then just being able to get excited and happy about it. I imagine myself only getting freaked out and terrified, all over again.
See what I'm saying, I'm all over the place. I can't calm my mind down and I can't focus on anything, it all keep boiling down to this unshakeable sadness.
But I want to shake it. I want to be that carefree, totally childless person that I used to be.
I guess in the end that it is true what everyone says: IGNORANCE IS BLISS....
Of course, all these sort of things are running through my mind: was I not eating right? Is this punishment for things I've done in the past? Will I ever actually be capable of bearing a healthy child? Is god telling me I'm not supposed to be a mother? Do I not take care of my body? Is there something inherently wrong with my chromosomes? Stupid questions, right?
Yeah right. Everyone keeps telling me not to worry about things like that or not to think that it's my fault (or even worse, that it could NEVER be my fault), but I'm having such a hard time. It comes in spurts, too. It's not that I'm always sad or always upset, but it's like one minute I'll be fine and the next I'll be a basketcase.
The other emotion that's relatively new to me is this sensation of complete isolation, like no one really GETS what is happening to me, emotionally or physically. I have H, who tries his best to understand, but I feel like it's all so perfunctory to everyone, but it's such a big deal to me, every time I start really thinking about it I feel like all the energy is being sucked out of me, like I can feel those intense stomach pains all over again. Is there no one to talk to about this? I feel like it's not a big deal to anyone, or like it's constantly being invalidated by people.
Last night, for example, one of my good friends came over for dinner. He's got a cold, so I invited him to come over. I cooked, I cleaned and I served him dinner and he didn't once ask me how I was doing, or give me any words of comfort. I know he's not the type to ignore other people's pain, but it was a bit surprising to me, I have to admit. And then there's my brothers, who I have pretty much completely given up on. They didn't mention anything last time--no "I'm really sorry" or anything--and now they most certainly haven't mentioned anything this time. They're so caught up in themselves and their own lives.
They can be such assholes. I don't even feel bad for saying that.
I feel sad about it all. I feel sad that at a time in my life when all I really want is to feel the real bonds of family, I'm completely lacking those connections. I just feel sad, I guess there's no other way to explain it.
H and I were talking about planting two plants for the babies that I've lost. I think they're going to be fruit trees.
Also, I keep having all these extremely anxious dreams that are driving me crazy. I HATE people that are sad for no reason. I want to just drop-kick them. I was thinking to myself all the while that the miscarriage was happening of how painful life is....
They say life is pain. It is pain. Moments that should be the most beautiful of all moments can be so tainted that it's impossible to imagine them any other way. It's impossible to imagine finding out I'm pregnant and then just being able to get excited and happy about it. I imagine myself only getting freaked out and terrified, all over again.
See what I'm saying, I'm all over the place. I can't calm my mind down and I can't focus on anything, it all keep boiling down to this unshakeable sadness.
But I want to shake it. I want to be that carefree, totally childless person that I used to be.
I guess in the end that it is true what everyone says: IGNORANCE IS BLISS....
Friday, January 25, 2008
That baby was a monkey
I wanted to post this before, but I had too much other stuff to write to put it in the other blog. It's about a dream I had the night before this second miscarriage, and it is strikingly meaningful. It actually frightens me a bit.
The dream went like this:
I was sitting in this great big brown rocking chair that H and I have in the now-an-office-but-one-day-will-be-the-baby's-room. I had this precious little child in my arms, and I was nursing it and cuddling it and talking to it and playing with it, just loving every minute of my time with it. It went on for a while like that, and then H walked in to the room and started chuckling. "What are you doing?" he asked me. So I laughed, thinking "what a stupid question", and I said to him "umm, I'm nursing the baby and playing with it." And he looked at me very strangely and said "M, that's not a baby you're holding". So I laughed like he was crazy, but then when I looked down, it was true. I was holding this small green stuffed monkey, just like one that my friends had given me many years ago. I wasn't holding a baby at all, it seemed that I had just been pretending to do motherly things, and that the baby that was in my arms, that I was loving so tenderly, was not a baby at all.
That baby was a monkey, a stuffed-animal monkey.
Does that dream make me pathetic?
The dream went like this:
I was sitting in this great big brown rocking chair that H and I have in the now-an-office-but-one-day-will-be-the-baby's-room. I had this precious little child in my arms, and I was nursing it and cuddling it and talking to it and playing with it, just loving every minute of my time with it. It went on for a while like that, and then H walked in to the room and started chuckling. "What are you doing?" he asked me. So I laughed, thinking "what a stupid question", and I said to him "umm, I'm nursing the baby and playing with it." And he looked at me very strangely and said "M, that's not a baby you're holding". So I laughed like he was crazy, but then when I looked down, it was true. I was holding this small green stuffed monkey, just like one that my friends had given me many years ago. I wasn't holding a baby at all, it seemed that I had just been pretending to do motherly things, and that the baby that was in my arms, that I was loving so tenderly, was not a baby at all.
That baby was a monkey, a stuffed-animal monkey.
Does that dream make me pathetic?
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