Posted by Goddess Anna.
If you'd like to use this space to vent or rant or tell the stories/secrets/confessions of your dangerous maternal (or paternal) mind, send me an e-mail and you too can enjoy the refuge of the Basement...
If you'd like to use this space to vent or rant or tell the stories/secrets/confessions of your dangerous maternal (or paternal) mind, send me an e-mail and you too can enjoy the refuge of the Basement...
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In the past, I seriously considered divorcing my husband so that I could get away from the kids and live my own life. My husband knew this; he would take the kids. I love them, because I birthed them and they're a part of me. But they drive me crazy, and I know I need more time to grow up before I can adequately raise little children. Every day I tell myself I should have gotten that abortion (daughter is a child out of wedlock, and I have no clue who the father is), and that I was just looking for a way to get the Navy to send my husband back home to me when I wanted to get pregnant again. Maybe that's why I had twins.
Today is a bad day. Yesterday was worse, but tomorrow could be better. I don't have any mother friends in real life, and my husband is forced to bear the burden of my woes alone.
My personal blog is a little more light-hearted than this, and I would like to share that with you as well: http://thegoddessanna.blogspot.com/ Thank you.
15 comments:
First, the 'plug' was to the author of the site. I included it at the bottom of the email. I had read elsewhere on this site that that is okay.
Second, I wrote this about a week ago, before the previous few posters were submitted. I'm sorry if you're not sympathetic, and I know that's your right. I'm the one who offered the mother a hug, because I understand. I was brief in my post because I didn't want to hog space. You don't have to visit my site, I don't care. You don't have to like me. I struggle daily with my decision to be in a family, and I reserve the right to doubt what I have become.
Maybe you're wondering why I'm replying to your comment, Andrea. I just want to let you know that it wasn't without fear and trepidation that I wanted to tell complete strangers that I think I made a bad choice. I also wanted you to know that it wasn't written today, and that my struggle with PPD has ups and downs. Not plugging here, but I'm glad my blog was mentioned. I try very hard to be a good mother to the children we have, and I look for the good in everything when I can. It doesn't always work that way.
So, condemn me if you want. That's your perogative. But I'm glad I got that off of my chest. I don't know why I expected anybody to care about me, but I feel for every other person who has shared a bit of herself here. I suppose because I thought brevity was the way to go, I deserve to be bashed. I certainly didn't think your comment hurt me much when I first read it, but now I'm crying hard enough to have trouble typing. I'll shut up now, and I'll ask to owner of the site to remove my post.
A clarification on how things work around here (now that Goddess Anna and I have spoken and she has rescinded her request to remove the post):
1) Posters do not have discretion over when their posts are published. Posts go up on a first come first served basis, and I allow a couple of days between posts so that there is time for commentary. So Anna did not know that another painful post about abortion would go up before hers. And as I understood Anna's articulation of her feelings to be fully serious (indeed, to my mind, rooted in pain), and not in any kind of flippancy, I saw no insult to the previous post.
We all have different experiences, and we articulate them differently. Sometimes stories in the basement might seem antithetical to one another. They come from different authors with different voices, and we have to respect those differences.
2) Readers should assume that any post that goes up here is sincere, and that the author is writing to relieve herself (or himself) of some weight. So do take each post seriously. If I thought that a post was insinere, or flippant at its core, I would not post it.
That said - not every post is (nor has to be) heavy. So long as we remain considerate of each other and treat each other with the utmost respect, we (posters and commenters) should be free to express a wide range of emotions here.
3) Real names and links to your own blogs are welcome, as I said in the guidelines (see sidebar). Anonymity (always strictly guarded) is one of the great things about the Basement, but all are welcome to post or comment under their own names. And as far as I'm concerned, if you're brave enough to write here under your own name, you're entitled to any traffic that your writing spurs.
4) Further to all of the above - please treat all posts with consideration and sensitivity, if you comment. Take them seriously. Assume that any writer here is using the Basement for a good reason: to get something off their chest, to write therapeutically, to get support and/or advice. If a post pushes your buttons - and I can totally understand if some do - tread carefully in responding. Honesty and straight-talk are always appreciated BUT... be very, very careful to avoid causing hurt.
I want to keep this a safe space.
Love y'all.
Okay, Goddess Anna. I owe you a giant apology. I've looked for that little trash can next to the comments so I could trash my first (knee jerk) reaction to your post, and I can't find it.
(I had a whole comment going and blogger ate it, so I'm trying to reconstruct it, and poorly.) I am ashamed of my earlier bashing of you. It was unwarranted. Of course you wouldn't know who was ahead of you. How would you? And of course you posted this here looking for a place to get painful thoughts out. That's what this is for. I am a bitch of the tallest order to not take you seriously and I apologize. Sincerely. I have just done the judging I hate the most, (am also hypocrite) and just because your post was short, straight and to the point, I took it as flippant and insincere, and I'm really not proud of myself right now. Since I hit the publish button, I wanted to take all that back, but the damage is done and I must own up to it. It can't be unsaid and I wouldn't blame you (and anyone else who visits here) for thinking I'm the slimiest slime. What I did was unfair and brutal, akin to kicking you while you're down and throwing sand in your eyes. To you, Anna, I am terribly sorry.
And my apologies to everyone else who reads, comments, and posts here for my typing vomit and soiling what had been (until I came along and peed in the pristine snow) an incredible help to so many people. I'm sorry if I've ruined it for anyone, and especially for you Anna.
Group Hug needed
I agree. With group hug. It takes guts to say what has been said.
Am calling GROUP HUG.
((((((((ALL)))))))))
And back pats. And cookies.
Cookies all around.
I just sent my husband to the store for some ice cream bars. : )
I'll start up the blender for some margaritas. Anyone?
Group hug? Cookies? Ice cream bars? Margaritas? I would offer to bring something but it seems y'all have everything covered.
Y'all give women a good name.
I remember once, many months ago, when it had been weeks since I had been out of the house by myself, I went out walking down the street to a convenience store on the corner to pick up something or other I needed at the last minute for dinner. While I was walking, alone, and free, without my husband and child, I was suddenly overcome with a sense of wild giddiness, and for a moment, I thought to myself, I could keep walking. I could just keep walking, with nothing but my purse and the clothes on my back, and not come back, ever. And then HE would have to change all the diapers. HE would wipe up the vomit when the kid is sick. HE would have to get up two or three in the middle of the night, every night. HE would have to spend an hour and a half trying to get HIS crazy picky underweight kid to eat just three bites of food. And me? I could eat whenever I wanted to, sleep whenever I wanted to, take a piss, by myself, whenever I wanted to, and stay out all night partying, even, on a whim, if I wanted to. I could have my life back. My whole life, back.
But of course, I knew I couldn't.
Then I felt guilty for like the next three hours just for thinking about it, for five minutes. Heh.
I am pretty sure we all have those moments. It's too bad it seems to be every day for you, though. I hope things get better.
Oh Anna, I'm sorry. You sound so frustrated and hopeless. I hope that sharing here has helped a bit. And there have been a lot of posts recently about the difficulty of finding friends IRL. You're not alone at all.
Many mothers have had thoughts like those, as Jaelithe said. And when you're struggling with PPD, those thoughts can be all the more intrusive. Stay strong, and know that we're out here.
It's kind of funny. Men used to do this all the time --they 'expect' the women they divorce to keep the kids and do the primary caretaking so they can have their lives back --and they don't agonize over it. Women do. I'll never understand it.
I have a step-uncle who, many years ago, actually did what Jaelithe imagines once in a while (who doesn't?). He left for the store ostensibly to pick up milk and, well, just kept going. He just disappeared for quite a long time. He ended up divorcing his wife when he resurfaced, and started a 'new family' about a decade later. I don't think the two kids he walked out on ever did fully forgive him...
So, I commend you for not just completely bailing and destroying your kids. Parenting is tough, and there are times we all want to run run run away. You're hanging in there and doing the best that you can, Anna. Give yourself a little credit.
Anna, I'm so sorry. Motherhood can be so completely overwhelming and toss in a dose a depression and you get a terrible situation.
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