Sometimes I still feel you.
Your hands on my shoulders.
The smell of your aftershave wafting through the air.
If I close my eyes
I can see your smile.
The way your entire face would light up.
Your eyes squinting with glee.
And if I'm quiet,
truly quiet,
I can hear your voice.
Your laugh.

I miss you.
Every day
I miss you.

When I was young, I had this vision. 

backwards

hello?

...

is this thing on?

ahh little piece of real estate on the interwebs,

it's been awhile.

i've been wondering why i haven't come to visit lately.

it's not that i don't want to

because i do.

god i love to write.

or rather, i love to write when the words flow.

the sound of the keyboard clicking

and the mental release of all those pent up thoughts.

god it's invigorating.

but i also realized that some of my best writings

happen in the midst of angst or heartbreak

inner turmoil

and deep thoughts.

aka high school when everything seems so finite and so earth-shattering

(psst teenagers... 

really, it's gonna be ok. 

in 10 yrs, everything will be a splinter of a memory. 

the best is yet to come)

or circa 2004-ish when i faced my first heartbreak

man some of the best blog posts came during those times

as i sipped wine cheap vodka and listened to sappy heartbreak songs

(psst...you are gonna get thru it.

and someone even better is gonna come along.

i promise)

or post-mommyhood circa 2009

where I dabbled in the realm of "Mommy Blogging"

taking a shot at being a domestic goddess and displaying life for the world to see

cutthroat i tell you.

Mommy Blogging can be cutthroat

so here i am.

no heartbreak. 

instead, happily married for 7 years with two beautiful kids.

no domestic goddess posts, 

because quite frankly, i don't want to be a domestic goddess.

and no display of life aka photos. 

ok well...maybe.

sometimes.

no promises. 

that's what instagram is for.

no, i've wandered over to the little ol' blog 

because i'm struggling

and falling backwards.

slipping quickly and yeesh.

it's scary

my son, 

who I shall fittingly rename Bruiser on the blog,

recently turned two. 

and a fast two years it was.

unbeknownst to me, the time flew.

so fast.

and this time around the PPD/A got bad.

i hid it a lot.

the first 9-ish months were the hardest.

rage.

and panic.

and uncontrollable fits of feelings.

rollercoasters of emotions

and ups and down.

i would say only a handful of people saw the real me.

and it was only because face-to-face

day-to-day

you can't wear the masks

without faltering somewhere

visits to breakdowns at the dr helped

meds helped more

soon i felt better

the crazy angel/devil on my shoulder stopped talking

and things got better

got easier

i was managing it.

i was on top of it

i was in control

and things went well

until i decided to wean my son at 24 months.

now before you peg me as some 

stereotypical 

hippy 

extended breastfeeding

insert whatever here

mother

just know

that as time and motherhood has passed,

i've learned that

what works for my family, works for us

we're unique in our own ways

and i love it

but it doesn't make it the only way

and i've come to respect mothers as a whole

because raising kids

is some tough shit

anyways

we weaned

we were pretty cut back as it was

but we fully weaned at 24 months

and within 2 weeks,

a freight train of emotions and feelings

slammed into me

my mind works 24 hours a day

my thoughts and insomnia keeps me up past 2A in the morning

i literally SEE germs everywhere

everything has a place

everything needs to be put away

OnGuard needs to go EVERYWHERE

we need to declutter everything

and most of all

the counter and every surface needs to be wiped down with clorox wipes 

38031928 times a day.

it's creeping up on me again

the mind games

and the thoughts

and anxiety

the PPD/PPA is back

24 months after birth.

does it still even count as PPD/PPA?

who knows.

all i know is that it sucks.

and i keep wondering

how did i slip?

how did i go backwards?

i was doing so well

i AM doing so well

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

and the answer i have to keep telling myself is

nothing.

nothing is wrong with me.

other than the fact that my body's hormones are adjusting

i'm adjusting

and that's ok

it's going to be ok.

sometimes you take a couple steps backwards

to take 15 steps forward.

so now we fight this again.

head-on.

One word.

If you could sum up 2013 with one word, what would it be? What word to do you want to enter 2014 with?

2013's word would be whirlwind. 

Honestly, I don't know where the year went.

We feel like we spent most the year driving and catching up.

We had bought our first house in mid-2012

and since it was about 20 miles ,

and anywhere from a 20 minute to a 2 hour commute further,

we drove a LOT.

We had to constantly coordinate schedules

and three days of the week

Miss B, BBoy and I would be away from the house for 6+ hours

It was hard to find balance

and really enjoy what was in front of us.

I spent most days packing bags.

coordinating carpools,

and driving home late at night.

It was hectic.

And I just lost myself.

I mean, really, lost myself.

And then in the last 3 months of the year,

 Myka started his own business,

we adopted some cats,

we took a vacation 

and decided to sell our house for the greater good of our family.

I mean 2013 was crazy.

Which leads me to what I want to do in 2014...

ENJOY,

I want to get back to my happy place.

I want to laugh and play with my kids in our home,

without worrying about our schedules and traffic.

I want to soak in every little thing
the giggles and my kid's hopes and dreams
I want to ENJOY.

2014 is for enjoying.
Cheers.

Stepping away from the hate and the facades

It's funny how hate can consume you.

It's like a wildfire that spreads at an intense speed

And I've come to realize recently

that along with hate comes blame.

The inability to take responsibility for our actions;

placing all the blame on others.

Making ourselves be the victim

Because, why in the world would it be our fault?

And many of us, believe the BS

Because people build up walls and a facade for everyone to see

And why would anyone lie about such and such?

And how could anyone ever treat someone so perfectly molded

so badly?

I'm tired of the blame and the hate

and the "Woe to me..."

I'm tired of the competitions.

And the expectations

The sob stories

and the games.

There's something more honorable about someone who is willing to take the blame, 

recognize their wrongdoings

apologize

and at least attempt to do better.

Because the cycle of hate and guilt and sob stories is like a poison.

And in the end, the only victim is yourself.