Definition of Terms, an Addendum to previous thought

There's been an outpouring of concern and support since last I graced the computer with my thoughts.  Apparently, people ARE actually reading what I write.  And many have voiced concern for me.  I am incredibly appreciative and grateful for your concern and prayers. 

As I mentioned in the first blog, this is my choice of catharitic release.  A catharsis is an unbridled release of emotion.  Most people have tears-- I have words.  I used to run, but I have kids now and the time to run is nonexistent.  I'm writing instead of running; I'm writing instead of drowning in alcohol; I'm writing instead of simply continuing to wallow in my misery.  I'm writing to heal.  If I wasn't honest with what I was writing, then I wouldn't be doing much healing.  I'm writing to 'talk through' my thoughts and emotions in my head.  Which means I MUST be honest, even if--- *when*--- it's ugly.  And, just in case you didn't know, depression is ugly.  I'm simply unafraid to say what it feels like.  I don't believe that any man is an island; however, I do believe that people are often afraid to voice the fears, the feelings of failure, and the guilt of not reaching the silent level of perfection that is expected by self and society.

I should take a few minutes, then, to maybe clarify some of my mental meanderings.

When I said I can't remember the last time I was happy,  I mean like "If you're happy and you know it clap your hands" happy.  Happy like whoohoo I'm so excited to be ALIVE!!!!! happy.  Happy like shake your booty cause you feel silly happy.  Not happy like contented or satisfied.  Let me be VERY clear:  I love my boys. I love my husband.  I love my dogs.  I love my life--- right now, in these moments-- I'm not FEELING the joy that I want to feel  I'm feeling overwhelmed, not excited.  I'm feeling inadequate, not capable.  I'm feeling fragile not strong.  I'm not interested in leaving.  I'm not interested in abandoning my life, I'm interested in leaving this baggage behind and moving into the life I know God has painted for us.  I don't, however love my ass.  Or my thunder thighs..

I am in no way suicidal.  I understand that those irrational thoughts are severe manfiestations of imbalanced hormones cocktailed with multiple insecurities.  If you know mixed drinks, it's like the 'Adios' of brain chemistry.  Stong and Blue.

I have never and will never hurt my children.  I'm simply ashamed to admit that my frustration with them and my inability to cope well lead me to visions fo shaking and throwing.  I know I'm not the only mom of a beligerent 2 year old (or 16 year old) or a screaming infant that has had thoughts like this.  The difference is that I'll actually own up to it in hopes of eliminating the thoughts and developing better coping skills.  Despite my visions and frustrations, I am totally repulsed by mothers who act out these visions-- not that I don't understand them, but to hurt a baby or toddler is beyond my capability.  I mean seriously, I'm the mom who won't let her baby cry himself to sleep for baby training.  I'd rather lose tons of sleep and be grouchy than allow my baby's brain and body to be saturated over and over with cortisol and adrenaline.

I won't apologize for my literary life vomit  the other night.  It's real.   It's my life right now.  Can't say I'm proud of it.  But I can say that admitting REALLY IS the first step to healing.  Simply putting my thoughts and emotions into words and on a screen was so liberating.  I apologize if I've worried anyone, but if all you read was my last post, then you missed the 'purpose statement' from the first blog.  I refuse to use alcohol to drown my hurt, I can't drink coffee anymore because I'm wimpy and only like it with milk (cow's milk only) and we aren't eating cow's milk products, and I don't get to sweat it out like I used to before kids.  So this is me, on a journey to heal.  Traipsing through the jungle of my pain to reach the fresh air of the summit. Hopefully, during this hike, I can lose the dimples, get my ass back, and proudly wear my heels and mini skirt.  To the park.  And ChicFilA.