Parade Of One.

I sat down this morning to write with tears in my eyes about a bad night with Wes that just sucked me in and chewed me up and spit me out into a million depressed little pieces. But it’s really no longer a story I can share in detail in this kind of forum. With E and Nikki I just knew when it was time to stop telling the details of their stories without discussing it with them first, and this is one of those days.

But the point? I will be starting the long and painful process – AGAIN – of finding him a therapist. We did this a couple of years ago but the clinic he went to shut down without warning and I just kept putting it off since he was doing better.

This time though, I’ll call the Pediatrician first. If you’ll recall the last time, you all questioned why I didn’t make that my first step and I felt dumb because that NEVER OCCURRED to me as I had spent a years suffering with a Pediatrician with a not-so-great bedside manner. He mocked me for concern with Nikki’s stomach issues and Wes’s leg cramps because I kept coming back even though it was “just stress” and “just growing pains.” So the thought of him as a trustworthy consult never crossed my mind.

But it’s different now! We have a Pediatrician I trust. I’m going to call and I’m going to try not to cry on the phone (Which I did at every step of the way last time) and we’re going to get some help because the bad days/moments may be more spread out, but their severity have increased and I am no longer strong enough to control his destruction. Both physically and emotionally.

So I’m sitting her at my laptop in the dark, in front of Donnie’s computer which has a stock imagery background of a beautiful beach and I look at the blue sky and limitless horizon and I tell myself: TODAY WILL BE A GOOD DAY.

I have talked before about how – some days – I hate the suggestion that we can so easily simply Choose Joy. Because many MANY days it’s not that easy. And honestly? Today is one of those days. I feel burdened with the weight of problems I can’t control. I worry about the damage that my child – a product of my body and my parenting – can inflict and I carry the blame for all of that like I’m the one screaming the words and causing the pain. I haven’t slept well in a while and while therapy has helped me give up my season pass to Depression World – I still have these days where it’s like I’m purchasing a Single Day Use pass ans the rides make me cry and the food is terrible. There is no laughter in Depression World and the mascot is me…walking in a One Woman Parade and carrying a sign that says, “I give up.”

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But that damn picture somehow gives me hope. There are places untainted by my anxiety and sadness. I’m not darkening the world with my depression. So I just need to remember those places exist. Those moments exist. This One Woman Parade Of Sadness is just temporary. I have a plan. I’m getting us all help. There’s always coffee. And I’m going to run tonight if it kills me. I’m going to try to find a running buddy to hold me accountable because I need that run like I need oxygen. I’m going to color awhile in my bullet journal.

I can’t necessarily Choose Joy when I’m marching the the World’s Most Depressing Parade, but I can at least put down the “I Give Up” sign. I can recall memories of brighter parades with balloons and candy. There are always blue skies and endless horizons somewhere. As much as I like to think the world revolves around me, it does not. I can make it through this. I may not Choose Joy today, as it will never be that easy. But today I Choose Survival. I Choose Action. I Choose Coffee. I Choose Coloring Books. I Choose To Run.

Let’s do this thing.

15 thoughts on “Parade Of One.”

  1. You’ve got this, Kim! You know the steps to take and you know it will get better. It sucks going through the process but at least you know the process and you know that it’s worth the effort. Much love to you and your family!

  2. I’m happy to be your running buddy! I can run Friday or Saturday this week & then pretty much any day after fall break. You are an awesome Mom!

  3. You are strong, but you are tired. Take care of yourself and follow your plan. Remember, as much as you feel alone, you are not. Let me know if you want to sit at our place. I have a lure 🙂

  4. Some days all we can choose is survival as a goal for that day and that is enough and that is more than okay. Hugs to you for coffee, survival and tomorrow is a new day.

  5. Big Hugs! I’ve been in your shoes, and it is tough. But, you are doing such a good job! Some days just really suck, but you are moving in the right direction and making great choices for yourself and your family. Especially that coffee choice – high five! : )- You are a great mom! Big Hugs again!

  6. Stay strong, mama! I hope you get your coffee, and coloring books, and a run, or any combination of all of those things to help keep you fueled today! You may be a parade of one, but you have a virtual crowd cheering for you!

  7. The journey of a mother is a tough one but you are doing a beautiful job – sending big hugs and good vibes to you!

  8. Sending good thoughts your way. Use all the tools you can find to get yourself through this – your own oxygen mask first.

  9. OK…me too.

    I’m standing right there with you, Girl. Parade of Two. I’ll go put the “I Give Up” sign in the garage. Thanks for this post!

    (PS: It is so scary when they say those kinds of things. Giant Hugs to you.)

  10. Hoping not to sound like a stalker, but I want to be able to email you directly and talk. I have a child born the same month and year as your Wes who struggles with major anxiety. We were both in tears yesterday because of his anxiety about visiting his Grandmother who loves him and he loves. You are an inspiration to me and I can’t tell you how much your posts have helped me. My goal is to be half as good a mother as you are.

  11. Oh honey! Being a mom is such hard work. I am sending all of you good thoughts for today and for the days to come.

  12. I didn’t get a chance to read your blog yesterday. I hope that you’re feeling better today and you made some progress with getting help for Wes.

  13. I don’t know exactly what it’s like in your shoes, but I have similar (sounding) things that go on with my son and it’s so hard. So hard. The anger and the anxiety and the just NOT KNOWING WHAT TO DO. I’m lucky in that I loved his pediatrician and I was able to get things started there. Now that we’ve moved, though, it’s time to start over and ugh.

    I’m also in the same boat with feeling like it’s time to stop blogging about it. His life, his story. It still impacts me, yes, but it’s time.

    Glad today is better. Somedays just making it through is enough. XO.

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