I can’t see clearly now…

When my “Facebook perfect” world imploded back in 2017, I decided to post only truths from then on. If me sharing my experiences could help even one person, then it was worth it. So you’ve seen some pretty raw, emotional posts if you’ve been following me on social since that time.

THIS post, however. This one has been nagging on my heart since I started trying to write it yesterday. And I couldn’t fit it into the constraints of a social media post…

If you’ve known me for a long time, you probably know that I’ve had awful eyes my whole life. If you’re new here, here’s an attempt at a cliff-notes version:

I was born with progressive myopia (progressive near-sightedness). I had my first pair of glasses around 18 months old, and until I was in my 20s I was getting a new glasses Rx every 6 months. Then it slowed down to every year. There came a point that I had to wear contacts and glasses together because they didn’t have either in a prescription high enough by itself to correct my vision. The best they could EVER get me to was 20/30 with both eyes combined.

Then in 2013 I had lens implants in both eyes and LASIK on top of the right. My Rx in diopters prior to surgery was -12.5 in my left eye and -20.5 or some ridiculous number in my right eye. After both surgeries I read off the 20/20 line for the first time in my life!

I was told the surgeries would set me back to square one so I could wear normal prescriptions again when the time came for needing correction. I made it 3 years before I had to start wearing glasses “sometimes”.

I was also told the implants would increase my risk of developing cataracts sooner than normal.

In the coming years I would learn that my retinas were thinning dangerously, due to the football shape of my eyes with my insanely large prescription. I developed mild dry eyes with my Sjogren’s diagnosis. And I started showing early signs of cataract formation.

Yesterday I went to a new doctor at the direction of a friend who works in the eye business, where I got to actually SEE for myself the damage being done to my eyes, because they have some amazing technology in their office. I saw how dangerously thin my retinas are (especially my right), learned that my cataracts are worse and I’m likely to need surgery within 5 years (which will be complicated by the dangerously thin retinas), and I’m borderline legal to drive. I also had it explained that I will never be able to see what other people see with my same prescription because of the shape of my eyes (the cones in my eyes are spread out too much to ever create a clear object to look at). This last part was completely new information.

I knew these things were a risk. And yet here I sit, not knowing how much longer I’ll be able to drive and when I’ll need another risky surgery on my eyes. And I’m only 42.

I’m having a rough time with this information. As if being a human and a mom wasn’t stressful enough, life has thrown us some major curveballs and this just adds more stress.

My word of advice? Take care of your eyes. Don’t fool around with them. I’ve never been lax in the care of my own eyes because of all the hardships I’ve had. And I certainly don’t plan to take what I currently have for granted, because I don’t know how quickly things will continue to change. I’ll go back for another check up in 6 months – yep I’m full circle back to the every 6 month check ups – and hope for the best.

Yo-yo mood

I want to work out.

I don’t want to work out.

I want to do yard work, or paint my kitchen, or clean my house.

I don’t want to do…anything.

I want to be with people!

I don’t want to be with anyone.

I’m excited for what’s coming!

I don’t give a shit.

I love my job.

I need to find something else to do.

Ever go back and forth between these emotions? Am I the only one?

WTF is going on inside my head that I can’t figure out what the heck it is that I want??

I’m assuming it’s stress or anxiety or perfectionism or fatigue or fear or all of the above. I haven’t quite put my finger on it’s etiology, and much like that drives me bonkers in my professional life, it bothers me in my personal life.

I feel like as a medical professional, I should have all the answers, but I don’t. I don’t know anyone who does, medical professional or not. But I still feel like I SHOULD know. And it’s frustrating.

I have no wise words to share on this, I just needed to put it out there that if you’re feeling this way, you’re not alone. The yo-yo mood is strong with this one. It’s real, it’s honest, and it’s apparently part of being human. Sometimes I wish I’d rather be an actual yo-yo. Then it would make sense to feel this way 🤷‍♀️

Till death do us part?

What does that actually mean? “Till death do us part?” Physical death or death of the marriage?

When I told my ex-husband that I wanted a divorce, he seemed shocked. He later admitted he knew we had issues, but thought we had time to work on them “because we said vows”. So our marriage wasn’t going anywhere, in his mind. Umm, news flash – if you have issues, you need to deal with them. You can’t just ignore them “because you said vows”.

Every year when a new year comes along, people vow to make changes that they know they won’t keep. The difference with wedding vows is that when you make them, you actually intend to keep them. Unless you’re in Hollywood – I swear their marriages only last a few weeks on average anyway. Their “I do” means “I do right now”.

The thing about marriage vows is that both people need to uphold them. You can’t neglect your spouse and expect them to stay because you made vows. You can’t be emotionally abusive or emotionally absent and expect them to stay. You can’t keep them on eggshells and expect them to stay. Just like you can’t expect them to stay if you’re physically abusive, unfaithful, or otherwise overtly brushing off your vows.

Marriage is hard work. For both parties involved. No one else’s marriage or lack thereof can actually have an effect on your outcome – only the two people involved have that power. But let me tell you, you can only put up with so much before you can’t put up with anything else. Just like a sponge: it can soak up water to a point. There comes a time when it is saturated and can’t hold any more. That’s literally how it is with the end of a marriage sometimes. You deal with so much – until you can’t deal with one drop more.

My heart goes out to anyone making this tough decision. It’s not made lightly, no matter how “easy” it may look to outsiders. In a time of social media when we can make our lives look as perfect as we care to, we have no idea if anyone is truly struggling in their marriage – unless they tell us. Only the people in that house have any idea what’s really going on. And sometimes one person in the marriage turns a blind eye to what’s happening, because they don’t want to admit that things aren’t as perfect as they seem. They may see it as a sign of weakness to admit there are issues. Well, let me tell you, the weakness of the marriage will come to a breaking point if you don’t work on repairing it.

Just because you said vows doesn’t mean you need to be miserable now just to hold onto them. And don’t hold on for the kids – they need to see good role models. They need to see happy parents. If you’re going to hold on to any vows, hold on to the ones you make to yourself – vow to love yourself and not blame yourself if things don’t go as planned. Vow to respect yourself and your children enough to set good examples. Vow to not be miserable for the sake of someone else. No one else’s opinions matter, anyway.

Riding the struggle bus

Oh man, oh man. To say I’ve been on the struggle bus lately is an understatement. My coping skills for life are being seriously tested, and the parent-teacher conference here would not go well.

As we neared the start of the school year, I watched meme after meme going up about moms ready for school to start so the kids would “get out of their hair” again. I wanted my kids “in my hair” more often. I watch my youngest child, especially, struggle with life and I just wish I could hold him longer and love him more. Maybe then he wouldn’t have so many troubles.

Maybe I was wrong for going to school so long and building up so much debt. Maybe I was wrong for wanting to be a mom who works outside the home so much. Maybe I should have done this or that, or not done this or that. Maybe it’s my fault he has behavioral problems. Maybe there’s nothing to do with me at all. I have no f&$@ing clue.

All I know is I wish i could help my child, but I haven’t a clue how. I love him. I cuddle him. I try to teach him boundaries and coping skills. I discipline him when he’s naughty. Then I love on him some more, because maybe that’s what he needs. We had him in behavior therapy, play therapy, and now with a regular therapist. He says all the right things when he’s with them, and he graduates out of programs because he gives a line of BS. In therapy right now, he can talk about all of these helpful techniques for dealing with frustration. But will he use these techniques at school? Of course not. But it sounded good in the therapist’s office.

So I sit here dumbfounded, unable to fall asleep, trying to mull over in my head what I can possibly do to help him. But tomorrow he goes to his dad’s for a couple days, and I won’t be able to help him at all. And it breaks my heart. My heart breaks daily for this guy. And so the stress continues. This stressed out mama just can’t catch a break.

I wish I had more insightful words to share today, but I guess that’s just how it goes sometimes. If nothing else, of you read these words and they sound familiar, maybe you’ll find some solace that you are not alone. Keep loving those Littles and trying to help them the best you can. Being a kid is hard. So is being a parent.

Shoulding all over myself

I should be stronger. I should be smarter. I should be skinnier. I should run more. I should exercise more. I should spend more time with my kids. I should work harder. I should, I should, I should… Shoulding all over myself.

I heard this phrase in a podcast today and it struck a chord with me. I hold myself to such high standards that I have a hard time reaching them. I’m not perfect. Nor should I be. But I still hold myself up there. And when I don’t meet my standards, I feel like a failure. Why? Largely in part due to the trauma of my youth, partly due to society’s high standards.

There are expectations that everyone holds. The worst are the ones we set for ourselves. We are our own worst critics. I had friends point this out to me recently. They reminded me of all the good things about me, all of my good traits. And I have a hard time hearing those good things. It’s easier to hear that you’re NOT good enough, that you’ve made a mistake. But when you hear all the good, sometimes it’s embarrassing.

We’ve got to stop shoulding all over ourselves. We’ve got to start being ok with who and what we are. It’s starts with me. Will you start with you?

Tired of being tired

Some days are better, some days worse, but in general I’m so tired of waking up and feeling like I need another week of sleep.

This chronic fatigue business is for the birds. If I didn’t have insomnia to go along with it, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. But waking up today feeling like I was swallowing broken glass, being a snot factory (so I know I’m getting sick yet again), having a hard time holding my hair brush to brush my hair, and feeling completely wiped out, I’m feeling a little defeated. So what better thing to do than journal this with a poem, right?

I’m tired of being tired….

I’m tired of being tired.

I’m sick of being sick.

I just want to be normal again.

I wake up in pain.

I go to bed in pain.

Same shit, different day.

I was a runner.

I lifted weights.

People considered me strong.

Now it hurts to curl my hair.

Now it hurts to lift a gallon of milk.

I don’t consider me strong.

I’ve always been motivational.

I’ve always helped support others.

I never asked anyone to support me.

Now I’m tired of being tired.

I’m sick of being sick.

And I fear I’ll never be normal again.

Hope y’all are having a better Friday than me.