A Wise Friend.
A wise friend of mine told me to take a pen and a piece of paper and write down what’s most important to me. On the top of my list were three things. My daughter. My husband. And my blog.
Some may say my blog is immature. It’s stupid. I need to take it down. Only lonely people read it. People who sit at home at night with no lives and have only their computers. But I disagree. I think that these people bring me joy. You know why? Because they actually listen to what I have to say without judgment. I don’t think they are lonely recluses that have no lives. I think they are people who have lives that are very hard and for 10 minutes out of their day, I can bring them some kind of laughter.
This is my forum. My voice. And I won’t stop speaking. I have hurt someone I love with some of the words I’ve said in my blog and for this I will have to make amends. I am not a perfect person. No one is. I will face the firing squad and all that it entails but I will not give up what is truly mine.
After I had my daughter I stopped working so I could stay home and take care of her. This wasn’t bad because I was still living in San Diego and I still had my friends to talk to. But then my husband had to accept an internship in a very small town in the midwest. I had no friends and was completely isolated. In one of my earlier blogs, I wrote about how I was misdiagnosed with bipolar disorder and given a barrage of medication. This medication made me seriously depressed. I would be lying if I told you I hadn’t seen the dark side. The thoughts that went through my head still scare me today. I had always been a happy person and I lost myself. I was blessed with a loving family and supportive friends and they helped me in my struggle. But I was still a lost soul. It wasn’t until we moved to Houston that I was correctly diagnosed with anxiety and weaned off of all the drugs. I started to come back, but by bit.
It has been over three years since Mini-Me was born. I have had some hobbies here and there, but none of them were completely satisfying. There had always been something I’ve wanted to do. I’ve always wanted to write.
I started posting on Facebook and started getting encouragement from some friends that I should start a blog. I kept thinking about it, and kept talking about it, then one day I got on WordPress.com and did it. I put up the site. I posted the blog, typos and all. I called my husband and told him what I did. He asked me, “How do you feel?”
“Like I’m going to throw up,” I said.
I felt this way because I had put myself out there. Good or bad I put myself on the line.
I didn’t just post once a week; I posted daily. It has become a job. It’s a job I don’t get paid for, but a job I take very seriously. My house has become a mess, my dog is depressed because I don’t walk him as much, and my husband eats leftovers. But for the first time in three years I finally have something that is truly mine.
What people don’t understand unless they are a stay-at-home parent is that the loneliness can consume you. You do all these things for others and don’t ask for anything in return. You’re more likely to get puke on your shirt than a pat on the back. You don’t wear your best clothes and you never, ever get a raise. My daughter is over three now and I can finally have a conversation with her, but before it was the wall and just me.
My blog is my saving grace. It’s my friend. It makes me smile and laugh. I usually don’t know what I’m going to write about until I sit in my seat and stare at the computer screen. I’ve even written whole blogs and hours later scrapped them only to come back to the computer to start again.
I have been asked to stop. I have been told its crap. But how can I stop what I love and what kind of example am I setting for my daughter? Today I looked at my three year old and said, “I know you don’t really understand what I’m saying. But if something is important to you don’t let anyone take it away. Not even your mom or dad. If it means that much to you, you need to do it. As long as you’re not a serial killer, I’m okay with it.” As she sat on my lap she looked at me, stuck her finger in one of the tears streaming down my face and said, “O-tay, Mommy.” Then she got up and went back to play.
I have a lot of people angry with me right now. But I’m tired of trying to make everyone happy. How can I make others happy if I’m not happy myself? I am in the middle of a shit storm and from now on I will be more careful about my posts. But for you, my pretties, and mostly for myself, I will not change my name. I will not change my site. And I will not stop posting. I am Mrs. Diagnosed. And I have some apologies to make.
*This post is dedicated to my mother. The strongest woman I have ever known. Mom, you taught me to always believe in myself, to always follow my dreams, and most importantly, to always trust my heart. Thank you for making me the woman I am today.
One strong bitch!
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