The Fog Lifted Today

Today was a good day. A happy day. The fog lifted today and I felt like myself for the first time in a long time.

And I think I'm ready to tell you all about it.

In my last post I mentioned that something happened last fall that rocked my world, and not in a good way.

Last October, the day after Homecoming for all my marching band friends, I began experiencing some... symptoms. Within a few days I realized I was pregnant. Unexpectedly, surprisingly, ridiculously, pregnant. I was 41 years old, with a history of infertility, on birth control, and pregnant.

But at our first doctor's visit they told us things weren't looking good, and there was only about a 50% chance of survival for my babies. I did, in fact, miscarry 10-week-old twins, but my body did not cooperate and on November 7, 2018 I had a D&C.

And I grieved. We were not planning on ever having more babies. If you would have asked me I would have said I didn't want any more children. But oh! My babies. How I wanted them after all! And so I grieved the loss of babies I never knew I ever wanted.

I have lived in a fog since then. I debated whether what I was experiencing was just part of the normal grieving process, after all I don't remember being like this after my other miscarriage. Maybe I was depressed? Maybe it was anxiety?

I don't know. Still don't. I know I haven't been myself since. Responsibilities fell to the wayside and I thought about quitting, well, just about everything.

Last year, because we had planned on doing much more traveling this past year, we signed the girls up for online homeschool and intentionally didn't sign up for any co-ops or community groups. The travel plan fell through, but I am so glad we'd done those things. So many days just getting them to sign in and listen to someone else teach felt like more work than I could do.

I'm still the VP of my Alumni Band, but I've scraped by this year, feeling like I'm doing the bare minimum for my office and I've debated resigning, for the good of the organization as well as myself, pretty regularly since last November.

I'm still the Team Manager for Jena's soccer team. I've missed deadlines, and squeaked in paperwork at the last minute more than once.

My house, always a struggle for me to keep tidy as I've mentioned many times before, reached probably the worst state it's ever been in.

Everything, everything, felt overwhelming. I don't know how to explain this in words, but absolutely everything was TOO MUCH. Leaving the house was a struggle. Every. Time. My kids asking to go the park was enough for me to feel it in my chest - the stress, the overwhelm. I have to do what? They want to go where? I can't do it! It's just too much!

Every little thing felt so big. Overwhelming was the only word I can think of to describe it. I didn't feel depressed. I can't even say I felt anxious. But overwhelmed. Everything was just TOO MUCH. The littlest thing - going to the park, or responding to an email, or sweeping the floor - anything and everything just absolutely overwhelmed me.

Then comes the reasoning. In my mind, I knew these were all small things. I knew I'd done all these things before. I hadn't taken on anything new, and in fact with the online homeschool and no community groups this year, I actually had less commitments than in the past. I felt like a failure. Sure, I was managing, but I wasn't managing well. I wasn't doing anything well. I was squeaking by in every area of my life.

Ugh. As I re-read what I just wrote I realize how inadequate it is to really explain what was going on inside me. I don't know how to explain it. I wish I could say it better.

But about a month or so ago, I started to feel a little better. And with it, I cautiously started doing more, worried I was making a mistake and wouldn't be able to cope.

I still felt completely overwhelmed and stressed out at the littlest thing, but I slowly started to purge things from our house. In the past few weeks I've given away, donated, or sold probably 20 or more boxes and bags of items. And probably thrown away at least as much. I've made a concentrated effort to work on tidying up and cleaning the house, and while we are far from where I'd like it to be (I'm still not inviting anyone over), it's the cleanest it's been in months. And I have to give a shout-out to my girls, especially Jena, who has joined in my efforts and helped me clean as well. Last month I went to a Symposium for college alumni bands, and this week kicked off registration for fall soccer.

But today... today... unexpectedly, unexplainedly, without notice... the fog lifted.

I feel like myself again. It was a good day. It was a happy day. Not because anything in particular happened, but from the moment I woke up I could feel the difference in myself.

Now like anyone who's struggled with depression, or anxiety, or whatever-this-was, I am well aware that the fog could show up again tomorrow, or next week, or maybe it'll hold off for a year, or maybe just maybe it'll stay gone forever.

But I've enjoyed today. I'm looking forward to many more days. I'm looking forward to getting caught up on a to-do list that desperately needs my attention, and yes, even cleaning my house. I took my girls out to a restaurant and two stores today, and you know what? None of it felt overwhelming. Or stressful. It felt good, and happy, and I enjoyed it.

I don't really know where I'm going with this. Mostly I just wanted to tell someone. So... as always, thanks for checking in!

Big News

So sorry it's been so long since I've been on. Life has been quite a whirlwind lately.

The biggest thing that I have to fill you in on is that I resigned from my job and am officially a full-time wife, mother, and homemaker.

It was a difficult decision, one that my husband & I discussed possibly hundreds of time.

It is definitely a leap of faith, but there have been numerous things that have occurred that make it seem as if God was laying the path out for us. Some things were giant stones along the path, others were tiny pieces of gravel filling in the cracks, but all of them seemed to be pointing the same direction: me staying home.

It's definitely been an adjustment for all of us.

The most uncomfortable part for me was waiting to officially resign. Even though we decided partway into my leave, for policy technicality reasons I had to finish my leave, return to work, put in a full eight hours, then leave. Keeping it a secret from my co-workers friends until then was really hard. Coming back to all the choruses of "welcome back" and "we missed you" was really hard, since it wasn't announced until lunch. My management team knew first thing, but we had to wait until the official announcement at 12noon. So weird to be there, working, with everyone so glad to see me, but knowing the whole time it was my last day.

I cried. A lot. After 10 years there a lot of those people felt more like family and friends than co-workers.

And there is a huge part of me that wanted to stay. Especially with all the changes at work. My company is relocating, and my division is headed to Michigan. Not that I want to move to Michigan, but I hate not being there for this major development.

Anyway, so far staying home is amazing. I literally cry at least once a week with happiness. I'm still getting the hang of everything, but it's great.

It would help if our routine would stop changing every couple of weeks, but for right now, that's life.

Just as a quick picture, right now my routine consists of going to a fitness boot camp several times a week, taking Jena to piano lessons weekly, and... homeschooling Jena. Plus all the infant care, chores, housework, etc, etc, etc that go along with it.

I'll try to post more details on each later, but I at least wanted to give you all an update on the biggest development since having the baby.

As always, thanks for checking in!

What's a Diet?

Recently my 4-year-old daughter and I had a conversation that was quite eye-opening for me.

It began as she looked over my shoulder while I checked Facebook. As I was scrolling down, she asked me to stop & go back up so she could look at a picture of a very overweight cat.

source

She asked why that picture was on there.

I explained that it was a story about a cat who was rescued and put on a diet.

"What's a diet?"

Crap. I have tried very hard to not let any references to dieting, weight loss, body image, etc. into our home. As much as I have struggled with my weight, I am keenly aware that girls often inherit body image issues from their mothers. And that is something I do not want. So I have consciously avoided the topic, or deflected when it came up.

So now... what to say?

I told her that a diet is what they call it when someone is trying to eat healthier, to put more good, healthy foods into their body. That the cat needed to be healthier, so they put him on a diet.

"People go on diets so they can be big & fat like you?"

Heart. Sinks.

My daughter knows that I am fat. Even though I did not tell her that, and try very hard not to use the word in our home, she came to the revelation herself. It's not a secret. The eye-opening moment here was that she thinks it's a good thing. She thinks people want to be big & fat like Mommy. $@#+!

So I tried gently to explain. No, people don't want to be fat like Mommy, in fact Mommy has too much fat and I'm trying to eat healthier to try to lose some of my fat so I can have a strong and healthy body like Jena.

Oh.

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It's a delicate tightrope, discussing weight with our daughters. We want to inform them, give them a healthy perspective, but we also want them to tolerate differences and love themselves no matter what they look like.

Once, while clothes shopping, Jena asked what size she should be when she grows up, as if she could aspire to be a certain size.

I responded that I didn't know yet, that we won't know until she's older, but that she should be a size that is a good, healthy size for her.

Then we had a little talk about how everyone comes in different shapes and sizes (and skin! and hair!) and that that's okay, it's good even, that we're all different. God made each of us, so it's all beautiful. That everyone should just try to be a size that is good and healthy for their body, and that's going to be different for everyone.

This whole experience just doubles my desire to reach a healthier weight, not just for me, but for her. Because the fact is our daughters are watching us and they want to be like us.

It honestly never occurred to me that my daughter might aspire to be as fat as I am, or that she would think other people would want to be this fat.

Sure, she loves that we both have blonde hair, and we both have blue eyes, will she be as tall as Mommy, etc, etc, etc.

But it never dawned on me that she'd want to be as fat as Mommy as well. My bad.

Mothers, we need to be healthy, have healthy habits, present ourselves in a healthy manner not just for us, but for our kids. We have to realize that as a parent, it's not just about us anymore.

As always, thanks for checking in.

The Pains of Being the Oldest in our Family

While the three of us were driving in the car recently, this happened:

Jena: Raise your hand if you're the oldest!I raise my hand.

Jena: Raise your hand if you're the youngest!
She raises her hand and giggles.

Jena: Raise your hand if you're in the middle!Jason raises his hand.

{ long pause }

Jena: Raise your hand if you're almost 100!{ pause }

Jena (leaning forward & whispering): Mommy, raise your hand!

Geesh! No love here! LOL!

I don't like surprises. Even good ones.

I did not react very well to the he-might-be-up-for-having-another-baby news.

Also known as, Jodi does not deal well with surprises. Even good ones.

Handing me a 180 degree change, with no explanation, no other words, nothing... kinda freaks me out a little.

Okay, a lot.

I may have reacted by grilling him with questions a few nights later. It may have resembled the Spanish Inquisition. It may have ended with him being ticked off at me, and me crying.

Holidays as an Introvert

One of the simplest explanations for the difference between introverts & extroverts I've ever heard is that while being around people energizes the extrovert, it stresses & drains the introvert. And vice versa.

A bit simplistic description, but it's the one that resonates the most for me, helping to underestand the difference between my husband (extrovert) and I (introvert).

Over the next eight days, we have seven holiday get-togethers, one volunteer activity, and one class. In the next 13 days, we have 18 different activities scheduled.

This rolls right off of Jason's back. He knows we'll be busy, but no biggie. In fact, though he won't say it, I think he loves it.

The mere thought of it stresses me. Not the busyness. I can handle busy. The thought of all those social interactions, one after another, with no rest or alone time in sight.I know it will stress me.

I also know it will stress my daughter (also an introvert).

Over the past four years I've learned that to keep Jena on a happy balance, I need to watch how much we do outside the home. She needs time at home. She needs time in her room. She needs her "rest time / quiet play". Her alone time. If we have too much going on she becomes easily agitated and extra whiny until she gets that time.

And so I've learned to watch our schedule. Tonight we will eat out and rush her to gymnastics class. So tomorrow we will eat in and have no plans. An every-other-day schedule, when I can manage it, seems to work well. Gets Jason out of the house enough to keep him energized and focused, gets Jena back in the house enough for her to re-energize. And keeps me sane as well.

The holidays make that type of schedule incredibly difficult.

It makes me wonder if extroverts are just naturally happier around the holidays than introverts. The extra parties and family gatherings, all these social events... they nourish the extrovert personality. But they also drain the introvert. The holidays, at least in our society, seem to be built for the extrovert.

But then again, so many things in our society are, aren't they?

Marblehead Lighthouse

Yep, more vacation pics. Enjoy!

photo by Jena

One Word

Yeah, I know this is a few months overdue, but when everyone was declaring their words for 2012, well... I had nothing.

A quarter of the way into it, I think I've got it.

I think my word for 2011 is:

repair

2011 was definitely a year of rebuilding and repairing for me. Not finished yet (are we ever?), but it was definitely a year of work, a year of fixing, and the beginning of healing for me. And hopefully not the end.

Which leads me to my word for 2012:

hope

2012 has already had its share of personal struggles, but truth-be-told, nowhere near the size of the battles fought previously. And so, I have hope. Hope for continued repair & healing, hope for bigger & better things to come, hope for brighter horizons. Yes, hope is definitely my word for this year.

Not Just Another Blog Challenge #17 - A Little Known Fact

 

A little known fact about me, something very few people know, especially in blog world, is...

I used to breed mice.

Yep. Like the furry little rodents.

In high school I took Agricultural Science, and needed a project. Not living on a farm, I was somewhat limited in my choices. So breeding mice it was.

I started with a black & white male named "Mickey", and a brown female named "Minnie".
I bred them for color combinations, and sold the litters to local pet stores.

And then after a few years and being done breeding them, I just kept a few as pets.

And then in college, I decided I wanted one again. So I got another mouse.

Their lifespan is only 3-4 years, and that's if they don't get sick or anything, so you tend to go thru a lot of them over time.

They actually make great pets, although if not handled regularly they can get a little bite-y.

Mickey was so tame I'd let him wander around my bedroom, and he would come when I called him. Most of them I would get out and let them climb on me as I went about my daily business at home, read a book, did homework, watched TV, whatever

Not like all of them at once or anything. Just one or two at a time. As much as I like mice, all of them at once is a little... weird. And hard to manage.

I still have a soft spot for all things mousey, and cringe a little when Tucker does his job in ridding our house of the vermin.

See, I even just cringed a little just calling them "vermin".

So, there ya go. Little known fact about Jodi.

Pics from our Anniversary Getaway

View from our hotel room in Louisville, KY

being silly

Haircut Pics (a little late, I know)

Yes, I'm still catching up on posting pics.

Here are the pics from my haircut.

Before

 

After

Now, I took about a zillion "after" shots, because I didn't think any of them did the haircut justice. In fact, looking at these pics, I like the "before" pic better. But IRL, I think my new haircut is much cuter.

Although... sometimes I feel like it makes me look older. A bit of a "mom" cut, you know? But it's definitely easier to maintain, quicker to dry, and on the odd occasions where I actually curl or straighten it or something... well, I can actually accomplish that in less than an hour. So that's good too.

But... now that it's grown out a little bit, I'm not terribly happy with the length. So I've decided to either get it chopped of more, or start growing it out again. I can't decide. So I told Jason I would let him choose. And he couldn't not pick, because I told him if he didn't say anything, I was getting it chopped off, so by not saying anything, he would still be picking. Pretty clever, huh?

Speaking of hair, today I noticed that Jena's hair is very long. Almost to her waist. She still insists that she doesn't want it cut. The problem is that she also doesn't like it to be combed, brushed, braided, pony-tailed, or otherwise messed with. She even fusses when I wash it at bathtime. Washing it is mandatory (obviously), as is combing it every morning, and pulling it into a ponytail on the days she has dance class at preschool. And since she won't let me cut her bangs, I make her wear a barrette to keep her hair out of her eyes.

I suppose as long as we can continue to fairly easily keep it maintained, I'll continue to let her have her way re: the length. I'm just not sure how much longer that will be.

As always, thanks for checking in!

Post Partum Depression (PPD) / Post Partum PTSD

Way back in May I just kinda slipped in a mention that I was thinking about writing more about my struggles with PPD.

It's something I've thought about. A. Lot.

I've talked with a few of my blog followers, one or two of which said they wish they could know more of my story. I've read posts of other bloggers who are struggling with PPD. I've read posts of other bloggers who I've suspected of struggling with PPD.

I think my hesitation is because... I don't really know what to say. I mean, clearly, if you've been following me very long at all, you've come to realize that I don't have many answers. To anything.

But maybe the "answer" is simply in being able to share in the experience, to know that you are not alone, that you aren't "weird", that someone understand's what you are going thru, as much as anyone can.

To know that PPD and PP-PTSD are real things. That you are not imagining your symptoms. That there is nothing wrong with you, but that it is simply your body's (including your mind's) reaction to a life-changing, body-changing event.

Here is a brief, undetailed synopsis of my story:

Following an uneventful & healthy pregnancy, I had a traumatic labor & delivery experience, followed by complications that left me hospitalized for three additional days, as well as an intensely difficult recovery period at home.

I was diagnosed with Post Partum Depression (PPD) at about four weeks post-partum.

Although the diagnosis fit and treatment (primarily medication) helped, I always felt like there were things that weren't being addressed. Of course, some of this was due to the fact that at the time of my diagnosis, I was not aware of them (details will come in later posts).

Being trained in the filed of History, and having studied wars, I knew that some of what I was experiencing seemed to sound a lot like Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD, formerly known as "shell shock"), but also didn't think that made much sense, and I couldn't find any information on women suffering from PTSD following giving birth.

At about two years post-partum, after having multiple flashbacks to my L&D experience, and spending weeks researching PTSD, I finally came across a few (very few) sites acknowledging the existence of Post Partum-PTSD.

After reading everything I could find, I made a self diagnosis of PP-PTSD.

I realize this is a general introduction to the subject and how it affected me and my life, but I promise you details will follow in other posts.

The journey is long, and ongoing.

I don't claim to be an expert on the subject, but I will gladly share my experience with you.

Thanks for checking in.

FDIC 2011

Yep, we made it.

A brief re-cap in words, and then some pics:

Water Rescue ended up going on Friday, so Jason & I hit the road early Saturday morning and went on Saturday. We (nearly) closed out the convention, then walked over to Circle Centre Mall and people-watched until our matinee movie started. Ended the evening with dinner at Rock Bottom, and then spent the night in the Hyatt. Slept in Sunday morning, stopped for a leisurely brunch outside of Indianapolis, then headed to my parents' house to pick up Jena, who spent the weekend there.

All in all, a great weekend.

Now for some pics:

I want more babies. My husband doesn't.

This has been a hot topic around our household lately.

We discussed children, including numbers, early on in our dating relationship, realizing that this topic could be a dealbreaker.

Jason wanted two. I wanted more, maybe three or four, but also realized that I wasn't getting any younger, so felt like two was... reasonable.

After having Jena, however, we've gone in completely opposite directions.

Jason is done having kids. He is happy with one, and doesn't want any more.

I... could easily & happily be a Duggar if we could manage it. Seriously. Give me 20 kids. And counting.

This... is a problem.

We can't figure out how to resolve this issue. Basically, one of us will get what we want, while the other is left... less than happy about it.

Basically one of us gets screwed.

And this is a BIG issue, right? I mean, it's kids. Does it get any bigger than that in a marriage?

I feel like my heart is breaking for another child. The ache in my chest is so familiar from when I wanted marriage & a family and it didn't seem possible. It's the same ache.
I honestly don't feel like our family is complete. I feel like there is still a piece missing.
And I hurt for more babies.
I'm not done yet. I'm just not.

While my stance is taken in my heart, Jason's is more in his head. He's not totally opposed to at least one more child. He just doesn't see how it would work, logistically. Two kids in daycare. One being a newborn. I think he's as uncomfortable as I am with putting a newborn in a daycare center, but my parents won't be available this time around, and certainly not for two children. In fact, he's made the statement several times that he would be willing to have more children if I could be a stay-at-home-mom. Which isn't in the cards just yet.

Neither of us wants to force a decision on the other, just for our own happiness.

But neither of us wants to be the one getting screwed either.

And it's not like it's an issue you can compromise on. You can't exactly have half a kid.

Or something you can do on a trial basis.
Okay hunny, we'll have one more kid, but if you're not happy with two kids, I promise to send this one back.Nope. Doesn't work that way.

And it's not like either decision is more right or more wrong than the other, you know? Just different. We both agree that neither decision is going to be better or worse for our family. They just create different scenarios.

So how do you decide?

One of my fears is that by the time we make a decision, if we do decide to have more children, then we will have waited too long and then I won't be physically able to have anymore children.

Let's face it, I'm no spring chicken. Especially when it comes to babymaking. I am dangerously close to the so-old-that-you're-automatically-a-high-risk-pregnancy-just-because-you're-so-old line. Seriously close to that line.

And... one of the reasons we started trying to conceive so soon after our wedding date is because we both have been told by doctors in the past to expect fertility issues. We fully expected it to take longer to conceive. Had the whole when-to-revisit-the-OB, and then when-to-see-the-fertility-specialist dates all mapped out.
It is by God's grace that we conceived Jena on our 2nd cycle trying. And I am acutely aware that just because we conceived so quickly with her, doesn't mean that she's not our "miracle baby", doesn't mean that we don't have actual fertility issues that just haven't been found yet.
We haven't been promised anything, you know?

So... much like this topic in our household, this post has no conclusion, just filled with my rambling thoughts on the subject.

Thanks for checking in!

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because this is my #1 most viewed post (as of Jan 2013, and pretty much since it posted), I feel like I should link here to an update. So I am.
Read update on this issue here.

Friday Fragments

I really want my own laptop. Jason always takes "his" to work, and then when he's home we're busy so I rarely get to use it.

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We really need a good, full-length mirror at home.

I saw myself at work around 10am and realized I look rough. It ain't pretty.

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I have a good "guess-what-this-is" picture, and I've been thinking of doing a giveaway on my blog (nothing too fancy, I'll be paying for it out of my own pocket), so I'm thinking of combining the two. We'll see.

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Two months ago I had all these plans for how I was gonna update my blog appearance. I got very little done. Need. To. Do. It.

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I'm really tired of our house not being finished. This renovation is dragging out way too long. It's unsettling to live in a place that's unsettled.

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But the good news is that the renovation has been slow-going because Jason got really busy at things that pay money. So... it's a good thing. Just ready for this house to be DONE.

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I can't wait to start scheduling our vacation(s) for the year, but am in a circling pattern waiting for some news re: family before we put anything on the calendar.
We love to travel, and I'm getting the itch to get outta here.

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FDIC is coming up in a few weeks. We've gone together, just the two of us, every year since we were dating. It's our thing.
But this year a Water Rescue committee is going, and Jason happens to be on that committee, so he's kinda obligated to go with them.
Which either means that I don't go at all, or I go & maybe take Jena and we might be lucky to see Jason for a few minutes during the day.
Can't decide which is a better choice.
But have to decide soon.

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Our Corolla is about to hit 200,000 miles, and is starting to have some issues. Nothing major, but we'd rather be proactive than end up stuck when it dies. So we're starting to look at getting a new (or new-to-us) car. The shopping part is exciting, but the idea of adding another car payment isn't.

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Have a great weekend.

Nothing Left. Face Down in the Mud. Empty.

I am scraping the bottom.

I feel as though I have drained every ounce of... everything that I have. I have no new ideas. I have nothing left to give. There is nothing left in my tank. My account is in negatives. I am empty.

It seems as though the entire world has been telling me that I'm not good enough. For anything. And the harder I try, the worse it gets.

Lord knows I'm not perfect. FAR from it. But I'm trying. I've been trying. For soooooooooo long. This pit bull might just be on her last legs. Exhausted. In every way.

I'm not giving up. Don't think that. It's just... I don't know what to do. So what do you do when you don't know what to do?

Ya'll know some of the issues Jason & I have had in the past. And if you've been following for long you know that one of the approaches that I took is realizing that I have no control over him and all I can do is try to be a better wife / mother / person myself. I only have control over me.

So for nearly nine months now I have been trying to be that better person. A better wife to Jason. A better mother to Jena. And so on and so forth, but those being the top two things. I'm not perfect, but I have tried. Oh, how I have tried. And I think I've made great strides. Perfect yet? Nope. Never will be. Better? I think so.

I've been working so freaking hard. Made tough decisions. Stuck it out. Saw a counselor. Dug into God's Word. Read books. Prayed. Did the homework (literally - I had assignments to do). I worked.

I re-evaluated my priorities. What was I willing to do? not do? etc. I gave in on some issues. Stood my ground on others.

Jason has admitted himself that in some ways I am a completely different person than he thought I was. In a good way. In ways that he says, and has expressed repeatedly, are of utmost importance to him in our marriage. Which is why those were the areas I focused on to begin with.

And yet... it's still not good enough. He says it is. But... then finds something else to complain about. He says he's happy. But... then acts in ways that a happy husband just does not. At least not in my eyes.

I worked to become a better mother. Gave up community activities so I could spend more time with Jena. I'm definitely not the perfect mom. Oh, far, far from it. But I try. I try so hard. She's my world, you know. But she just seems... so unhappy with me. She cries so much. Always begging me to spend more time with her, which I just can't. We fight daily. She hits me. Kicks me. Throws toys at me.

And it seems like everyone around me tells me how my parenting is wrong. Everyone. All I know is that I make decisions based on what I believe is best for her, what my brain tells me will work out best for her in the long run. But... apparently I'm doing it wrong.

And to add insult to injury, multiple family members have begun telling me that Jena doesn't actually miss me when I drop her off at daycare. She's just "pushing my buttons", manipulating me to get her way. I think I understand what they're trying to say, but do they have any idea that they basically just told me that Jena... well, that she doesn't love you at all, Jodi, she's just playing with you.

Man, that hurts.

And... at work.

So, I got hired on, right? But my job responsibilities changed very little. Added one new item, but that item I was told would increase my workload by 20-30%. Fine. Well, shortly before I got hired on, my boss got rotated to a new group, and I got a new boss. We're still doing the dance, figuring out our working relationship, but... grr.
He is constantly on my case. I mean, I am darn good at my job. Really am. Perfect? No. But really darn good. Walk-on-water reviews for 6+ years. Other divisions benchmarking my work to take back to their divisions. I'm good, I tell ya.

And... he has admitted to me on numerous occasions that he has no idea what I do, knows nothing about administrative items (budget, website, staffing, etc).

But... he is on my case. About stupid stuff. About big stuff. About everything. Apparently my freaking inbox isn't good enough. Seriously. Like, the inbox on my desk. That my team members, including him, have been successfully using for almost seven years. It's not "apparent" enough. Really? The standard issue inbox, hanging in the standard cubicle position, labelled "inbox" - really?!? I tell ya... stupid stuff.
And... it's not just him! The general manager, who I've always had a good working relationship with, is suddenly nitpicking on everything!
They also made me change my previously agreed upon work schedule, so I can no longer drop Jena off for preschool (left the hallway & cried after that little meeting).

So, I talk to a couple of managers whom I trust and they tell me that because I was hired on, I'm being "watched". Basically, we know you've been here over six years, but now you have to prove that you deserved it. Bullsh*t I tell ya!
So,  I think fine. I'll bust my butt. I'll turn out even better projects. Do whatever they ask. At least put on the appearance that work is my priority (because in reality it will never come before family).

So... is it helping? NO! In fact, last week I worked two hours of overtime. Two measly hours. I actually thought my boss would be pleased. Working on all these projects, putting in the time, twice last week I was the last one to leave the office. Happy boss, right? Nope. Today he told me that they frown on "unneeded overtime" and if I work any (ie. 15 minutes or more) of overtime, I need to send him an email detailing exactly what projects I was working on and why the overtime was needed.

WTHeck?!? Um... how 'bout the fact that you explained to me that my new responsibilities increase my workload by 20-30%? And since I was previously working 37-40 hours a week... it's simple math. How 'bout that? Can I put that down as an explanation?

Oh, and if you're wondering about my time blogging / on message boards / surfing the net, etc. Well, I also have already gotten a talking to about how I'm still "non-exempt" so legally I have to take my breaks. They are not optional, and they will be enforced, so stop skipping them. Although I'm sure being seen taking a break is also perceived as not being dedicated, something else I was told is a perception of me around the office.

So, it seems lose-lose to me. Your workload has INCREASED. You MUST take all of your breaks. We DON'T WANT you to work overtime.

Ridiculous. I feel like I'm being hazed. Been here nearly seven years and I'm being hazed. Geez!

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Wow. This post got long.

But basically, I guess you can see where it's coming in on all sides. There's more, but those are the three biggies in a nutshell. It just seems like no one is happy with me. Including me. I'm not happy with me either. But I'm at such a loss.

I know I can improve, in all these areas, but I've just reached a place where I don't know what else to do.

Maybe they're just bad situations, and there is no right answer. Maybe there is a right answer, but I'm so drained I can't see it. Lying flat on your face in the mud sometimes makes it hard to see what's standing right in front of you. I get that. But it doesn't help me to see it.

I know I suck. I'm horrible. I get it. I'm inadequate. I can't do anything right. But I try. Lord, I try.

Sometimes I wonder if it really is all me. If I just really am that screwed up. Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe I really am just that bad, that I just really do mess everything up, just by being there.

But, Lord, I hope not.

Because if it turns out that everything really is just all my fault, that everyone really would just be much happier without me because I've just screwed everything up so badly, well... I just don't think I could tolerate that at all. That... might drive me to quit.

Jodi is Depressed

I need to post. I have things I want to post. But I'm too depressed to post.

I'm too depressed to do much of anything.

Pray for me.

Was 2010 the Year of the PitBull? Maybe so.

With all the blessings we received in 2010, there were also many trials. Many things have gone wrong. Even some of our blessings have been... tainted by the circumstances surrounding the when's and where's of their receival.

For me personally... 2010 has been one of the most difficult years I have had, perhaps in my life. As much as I have blogged about my personal struggles, there is much much more that I have chosen not to share.

Certainly for me this year has been the year of the fight. Fighting for myself, fighting for my marriage, always fighting for what is best for Jena... and yes, I am tired of fighting.

But, as I reflect... I suppose I can take a certain amount of pride in that fight.
There were so many times I wanted to just give up, walk away, leave. Sometimes literally. More than any of you will ever know.
But I didn't. I never gave up.
Not on me. Not on Jason. Not on us. Not on our family.
I never gave up.
Instead... I fought. I worked. I clawed my way out of pits, showed my teeth to a few adversaries, and battled more than once on my knees. But I never gave up.
Even when I didn't know what else I could do.

I guess my co-worker was right. When working on a project recently, he looked at me in surprise one day and said "I guess ya got a little pitbull in ya, huh?".

Yeah. I guess maybe I do.

Rough Night #2

It was another night of Jena screaming at bedtime. I'm not sure what's going on. This started happening out of the blue.

I'm starting to think maybe it's separation anxiety, because after our first try at bedtime last night, after I finally went in to get her up, she would not leave my side. Clung to me.
Second try I got her to fall asleep on my chest while sitting on the couch, was sure she was out, got up, laid her in the crib, and... let the screaming commence. Ugh.

I finally ended up taking her into our bed (we have never co-slept with her). She eventually fell asleep, calmly, gripping tightly to my shirt. I managed to pry her loose, then left her there, sleeping peacefully next to me, for about 30 min before I carefully moved her to her crib.

So on night two it took three tries, and three hours. She wasn't in her crib until nearly 1am.

After that I went downstairs to feed the dogs & lock them up for the night, since they had been barking intermittantly. So I finally got to bed around 2am.

Around 5am I am awakened by the sound of Tootsie barking. They managed to get out. Ugh. She barked for a good 30 min before I finally got up & yelled at her. I staggered back to bed & passed out. I wake up to the sound of her barking again at 6am. At 6:30am, I drag myself downstairs and give her a good talking to. She knew she was in trouble. Guess I should have done that in the first place, because there was no more barking.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much more time for sleep either. I crawled back into bed, only for my alarm to go off a couple of minutes later. I hit the snooze until 7:15am, then got up and began getting ready for the day.

Needless to say I am tired & grumpy today. Jodi needs a nap.

Just a thought

So, after a lengthy, and disgruntled, conversation between Jason and myself the other night, the following thought / piece of advice came to mind:

Stop doing things for your spouse that you want done for you, and start doing things for your spouse that they want done.

It seems so simple, but I think we can't be the only ones who make this mistake. And I am as guilty of it as he is. We tend to do things for each other based on what we want, instead of thinking of what the other person wants.

I've even read magazine articles & even marital help books suggesting that if you want your partner to do something for you, you do it for them, and they'll reciprocate. One example that I recall is a book suggesting to women that if they want their husbands to be more romantic, the women should do romantic things for the men, then the husbands will in turn do the same for their wives.
I mean, maybe, right? But if I bring Jason home a dozen roses, I don't think he's likely to think "that was nice, maybe I'll bring Jodi some". He's more likely to think "what in the world made her think I want flowers?".

And besides, when you do what you want but for them, even if it's for them, isn't it still in a way, selfish? Because you're giving them what you want, not what they want. You're not taking the time or effort to think about what they want. You're in a sense taking the easy way out.

Is this making any sense at all?

I hope so. Because for me it was a revelation, and I think it's a really good one.

Stop doing things for your spouse that you actually want done for you, and start doing the things that they want done for them.