I’m Not a Robot

Apr 20, 2015 by

I’ve been listening to music pretty much every day on my walks or runs and I’ve found that I keep hitting repeat, over and over, on the song I Am Not a Robot by Marina and the Diamonds. I’ve been going through a lot of change in my life as my husband and I continue the divorce process and something about this song just hits me every time I listen to it.

It’s okay to say you’ve got a weak spot
You don’t always have to be on top

I have a hard time with negative emotions. I don’t like feeling angry or resentful because those emotions only make me feel worse and really impact my ability to feel inner peace. I believe in my soul that being compassionate and kind are two of the most important values in life.  So, it’s tough for me to admit that during this process of getting divorced I’ve had times when I’ve let my anger overshadow my desire to be compassionate. But I do have a weak spot, many weak spots in fact, and I don’t always have to be perfect. Divorce is always difficult for everyone involved so I’m trying to cut myself some slack.

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The Little Things that Become the Big Things

Apr 15, 2015 by

Inspirational Internet Meme says:  “Appreciate the Little Things”

I say:  “I have been up since 3:18am with a baby who’s been sick on and off (but more on) for six months.  I am too freakin’ TIRED to appreciate anything.  I have laundry piled to the ceiling, a to-do list five pages long and I just found three-day old macaroni and cheese stuck to my floor at the same time I noticed I’m out of paper towels.  I don’t have TIME to appreciate the little things.”


This morning as I was downing my third cup of coffee, questioning if I put on deodorant, I came across an article about a Florida woman who wrote her own obituary and at the end she wrote: “I was born; I blinked; and it was over.” 


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How To Tell If Your Kids Are Lying?

Feb 23, 2015 by

A rare (and posed) sight

A rare (and posed) sight

My kids have gotten into this great groove playing together. They have been known to disappear into one of their bedrooms, close the door and play alone for a good amount of time. Sometimes I hear that tell tale screeching that tells me the older one is doing something the younger one does not like at all. I know I’m in trouble when I see them walking away quickly and I hear my four year old say quietly to my two year old, “You’re right, that’s a great idea, let’s go do that!” I usually let them run with whatever they’re planning. It often involves building things or playing some sort of pretend. These kids have great imaginations and haven’t done anything irreversible yet. I now the drawing on walls, furniture or carpet or an unexpected haircut might come some day.

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My Postpartum Depression Story – Emerging on the Other Side

Jan 28, 2015 by

It’s been almost four years since that June morning and I am no longer depressed.  I have a second son now and didn’t have postpartum depression with him.  I have since bonded with and love both of my boys more than anything in my life.  My bond is strong and secure with my sons. 


I am happy.


My sons are happy.


So when did my PPD go away?  I’m not exactly sure.  I suppose it gradually got better with time and antidepressants.  By my son’s first birthday I guess I felt “better” or at least better adjusted.  By this, I mean I looked forward to spending time with him, I felt a connection with him, and that “mother/son” bond had been formed.  I was able to sleep again, and I wasn’t constantly obsessed with thoughts and worries.  I (somewhat) came to terms with the fact that I will never again feel the kind of “normal” I did pre-children and this was my new normal.

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My Postpartum Depression Story – The Biggest Mistake of My Life

Jan 20, 2015 by

(My story …continued)


Like all forms of depression, there are varying degrees of postpartum depression. It can fluctuate from of a mild case of the “baby blues” to a crippling case of serious depression, or a million situations in between.  To be honest, I don’t know where my case fell on that spectrum as it’s difficult to objectively diagnose one’s self.   I can tell you this: I never wanted to physically hurt my baby or myself.  But I did regret having a baby.  I felt no connection to him.  Only regret.  And hopelessness. I made the biggest mistake of my life and there was no way out.  I wanted someone to take my baby away and take care of him.

When I got home from the hospital, I was still physically a mess.  But that was nothing compared to the paralyzing fear I had of this tiny little person.

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