I’m Still Alive, Barely
Hey guys, it’s me Melvi. Your friendly neighborhood feminist blogger who on the blogging situation looks like I’ve been living under a rock. However, it’s been so much more than that. Today though, it’s just me, ready to let out a few of my frustrations or anxieties if you will and let it out into the open. I’m not writing about a funny story involving my daughter, not writing about the countless weeks I spend alone with her while my husband travels and I’m not writing a letter to my daughter today. Today I’ll be concentrating on ME, because I feel like every waking moment of my life is all about my daughter. I’m either talking to her, talking at her, talking about her, thinking of things I can do with her, for her, or trying to get her to listen to me. For the next couple of hours I get to be just me; write, paint, nap, eat, binge watch my stories or sit and stare into space and day dream of thinner days. I get to be just me today because my kid started pre-school. “Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujaaaaaahhhhh!” Can you hear me singing from your laptop, phone screens or ipads? I can try to sing louder next time.
So, hi! It’s been several hot minutes since life has allowed me to get into the mind-space to blog and boy do I miss it! In the past I always felt a sigh of relief once my stories were out in the world. Whether 100 or 1 person read my story I felt like I wasn’t alone. Lately I’ve been so sucked into my life, my routine or lack there of and completely consumed by responsibilities that I forget to just be myself. Even worse, here lately I haven’t allowed myself to feel confident or secure with who I’ve turned into. From the outside looking in I’m sure people assume I’m completely fine. However, throughout my life I’ve mastered the different masks I have to wear with different people. The thing is no matter what mask I have on to the outside world, my family can read my body language, my voice, my tone and my face from a mile away. Unfortunately I can’t hide how I’m feeling around them. This weekend I kind of broke down in front of my mom and when she asked me what was wrong. I initially didn’t even know where to begin. Everything related to me is what I feel is wrong, and I know that that isn’t good. I need to do what I can to get out of this space real quick. Its just so much easier said than done.
I feel like I have to put this disclaimer out there before I start explaining how I’ve been feeling lately. My kid is happy and healthy, my husband is ambitiously and happily working and planning for our future, and Hawthorne, well… you tell me. How do you think he’s doing?
My problems or issues are and have always been, me. My mom guilt, my constant battles with my demons, my insecurities and incessant anxiety. I am constantly trying to prove to myself that I’m enough, I’m worthy, I’m a good mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend, person. It’s exhausting. The thing is I know its irrational, but that still doesn’t help my brain from heading to the dark place. Somehow, no matter what I do I always have bouts of extreme insecurity in everything that I do. It’s unsettling how quickly I can go from 0-60 towards my demons, no brakes, no hesitation. I mean, I’m 35 years old when does the anxiety and insecurity end? When will I just be okay with being this person? And honestly, I will take any and all advice, remedies, anecdotes or sedatives at this point to just feel okay about who this blob of a person is. For like a day! I’m literally asking for help.
My wonderful husband the other day asked me what he can do to help me. I couldn’t even give him an answer, because I have absolutely no idea. All I said was that the only time I ever feel excited or fired up about life lately is when I’m painting. However, trying to paint when you’re responsible for a toddler all day is difficult. So, I’m hoping with her going to pre-school now that the few hours of me time will remedy the nonsense going on in my head. Maybe then I can start to find out who I am again without just being the Mom. Or will this alone time just drive me over the edge? Any other suggestions? I know this sounds unbelievably pitiful, I’m just so tired of feeling like this. So unsure, so manic, so anxious, so insecure in my ability to do anything right. Do you feel this way? What do you do to get over it? I’m hear with open ears and open arms. I’ll be here painting, waiting for help.
Your Anxious, but Always Friendly Neighborhood Feminist,
P.S I apologize for such a depressing blog post, especially after being absent for so long. I promise next week will be a funny story about my chaotic life and possible pictures included.