personal, writing

An Article on Depression

Hello, Everyone. Meet My Depression

image via Preview. ph

What is it like to live with mental illness? One woman *ahem* writes about her experience.

“When I send a message, even for the most trivial thing, I word it so that I would be at peace with what I said if it just happened to be the last thing I said to that person. Don’t even get me started on plane rides. It’s a metal tube levitating over oceans. For every physics principle you throw at me, I say MH370.

I go through weeks when I feel like I’m in a haze. I force myself to get out of bed. I force myself to talk. I don’t feel close to anyone. I can feel so exhausted that I hope to disappear in a puff of smoke. There’s so much of me making the effort to do things or feel things that I am exhausted all the time. I would rather sleep.”

Read the entire article here.

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My Weight Loss Failure

I’ve been trying to watch what I eat, but it’s such an inconsistent experience.


It’s also very hard to be on a diet when your feelings are in the way.



I know I can burn off the calories by being active so I downloaded an exercise app. The problem is that it takes me 12 hours to finish a 15-minute routine.

If for some reason I do lose some weight, I tend to celebrate too early.


I’ve been promising myself that I will get back to my pre-pregnancy weight for years. For too long now, I’ve been holding on to a certain pair of jeans that I will most definitely wear again once I lose the inches. You just wait and see.

The other day, my daughter put her hands on my tummy and exclaimed, “Mommy, you’re so fat!”

I stood there, feeling shell-shocked. What should I say? What should I do? Should I tell her she was rude and that she hurt my feelings? She was just telling the truth. I mean, I am technically fat. Should I scold her for that? Do I have a conversation with her about how there are some things you should never tell another person? But she’s three. Would she even understand?

As I stood there, debating on how to react, she pressed her face against my stomach and said,”You’re the warmest mommy ever and I love you so much.”

So yeah, I could probably stand to lose a few pounds. But darn it if I didn’t learn my lesson fast that how much I weigh is not what’s important.

 

 

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Would you be friends with yourself?

It depends on when I met me. As a kid, yes. In my early twenties, not so much. Now, definitely — finally, someone who understands how great my baby is..

Japanese photographer Chino Otsuka’s “Imagine Finding Me” series shows us what happens when you meet your former self. She digitally placed recent images of her into old photographs. It’s eerie, but definitely beautiful.

images from chino.co.uk

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Day 538: I told myself no pictures but…

I couldn’t resist. I encountered this painting by Eugène Carrière through one of my daily blog reads and it reminded  me so much of Hannah as a newborn.

via Marvelous Kiddo

momhannah

This picture was taken on the day we came home from the hospital. My little three-day old, gingerly touching my bloated face.

Wish your mommy a happy birthday, Hannah. It’s my first with you around, and I can’t even imagine life before you. You and your daddy are the reasons why this is the best birthday ever.

 

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Day 520: New Skills, Mad Skills

 

 

 

 

Rainy season is bug season. I never minded it very much before but since Hannah arrived, I’ve become a lean, mean mosquito killing machine.  I now have bionic reflexes. I can grab mosquitoes in mid-flight and crush them at one fell swoop. If you’ve got wings and an intention to bite my daughter, you’re dead.

In less violent news, unless you’re fabric, I’ve discovered another skill. Crafting! Using this pattern as a guide, I made a fabric flower for Hannah. We were going to an event and I thought her plain white dress was a little too blah.

I’m totally high off the success of my little project. Today a flower, tomorrow the world. Martha, I’ve got my eye on you.

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Day 443: I’m Alive (But Only Barely)

Well, hello there. It’s nice to be back.

As you can imagine, things have been crazy around my little world because of the arrival of our new baby. Hannah is the most amazing, wonderful, beautiful human being I have ever met. With such a status, why shouldn’t she demand my whole being?

I’m finding out that my whole being is pretty much what it takes to raise a child. Motherhood is the most rewarding — and difficult — thing I have ever encountered.

I’ve had to temper my expectations a lot in order to keep myself from going nuts. When I was pregnant, I had this notion that I would magically transform into Martha Stewart/Mary Poppins/Ina Garten with a body that will spring back into shape (with the added bonus of having an Olivia Palermo face. Aim high, right?).

When the baby arrived, I just turned into mush.

I loved my baby from hour zero, but that love did not change reality: sleep is necessary, post-delivery recovery is difficult, and hormones rage. I had more than my fair share of the random bursts of tears, convinced that I was just barely keeping my baby alive. Needless to say, the first couple of weeks were pretty rough.

I’m still getting the hang of motherhood. I had to temper my expectations a lot to keep my sanity. If I can just make sure that I don’t ruin the innate greatness of Hannah and have a hand in her growing up safe and healthy, I would already consider myself a success in motherhood. Her being a prodigy (although I am still convinced that she is) would just be a bonus.

Edit: Apparently, my sanity is such a concern that I unconsciously mentioned its condition twice.

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Day 382: Look Who Arrived Two Weeks Early

Last Saturday, my heart expanded by six pounds, fourteen ounces. She redefines my life.