Mama can you die from a broken heart?

I took off today.

Well, by the time I’m finished writing this…it’ll likely be after midnight when anyone reads it.

I guess consider it yesterday.

I know I’ve been feeling off lately.

Of course, that is to be expected.

I’m trying to show myself grace by hurting when I need to and praying when I have to.

I’m not even sure where I stand with my faith right now.

I’ve found myself talking to someone…anyone…no one?

A lot lately.

I know quarantine has been rough on everyone’s daily routine, needs, health, etc.

I have been waiting for my life to start this new chapter since January.

I was looking forward to being finished with School the beginning of April.

I was looking forward to my birthday.

I was looking forward to the Jo Koy show I had tickets for.

I was suppose to be in Dallas right now enjoying that!

I love April and every thing I was waiting for, was postponed or cancelled all together.

I had been doing a good job at trying to remain positive.

If there is one thing I’m good at, it’s being strong.

Tough.

Resilient.

Almost to a fault.

Right now I’m losing the only person I’ve been able to count on, ever.

I feel anxious about the future.

I feel relief from the past.

I feel pride for all the heart work I’ve done this year.

2020 is so personal to me.

Therapy has been via computer the last two sessions.

I don’t care for it. It doesn’t feel the same and I’m frustrated for my mental health.

In the beginning of March I switched from Zoloft to Lexapro.

I didn’t enjoy the restless feeling Zoloft gave me.

I was also trying to figure out if it was more my depression that needed to be targeted or my anxiety.

The medicine is suppose to build up in your system, there is a little bit of a trial period to go through- so on and so forth.

I knew about three weeks in that I didn’t like it but, I wanted to try to give it at least six weeks before I went back to the doctor.

In that time I stopped working out almost completely.

I slowly started losing the progress I had made physically, mentally, emotionally.

Which then results in me beating myself up because I’m disappointed in me.

I’m my own worst enemy.

I guess in a sense, I cancelled all my progress when my plans for the future got moved around because of Covid.

It wasn’t a choice I made continuously, my progress was heavily dependent on things going the way I had envisioned it.

I know…I know.

“We plan and God laughs”

It’s heartbreaking because I know I’m worth more than what I tell myself.

I went back to the doctor two weeks ago.

Switched from Lexapro to Wellburtin and I can’t really tell much of a difference yet.

I’m worried I’m not going to like it and a few more weeks of suffering will continue.

Experimenting with mental health drugs so you can find your right fit is mentally draining.

I’m so exhausted from feeling like I’ll never feel normal.

All of this with the added stress of Joe and I finding our new routine, trying to be respectful of each others boundaries and sharing the kids is enough to send me to my breaking point.

It doesn’t matter how much progress I’ve made…there are still parts of me that wants to run away.

So, I took off today.

I dropped the kids with Joe this morning and headed out of town without telling anyone.

It was either breakdown or leave town.

Maybe this is a breakdown? (Am I a rapper?)

I needed out of my own head.

My mental health is fragile, even when I’m at my best.

I’m not even close to my best right now…you can imagine where my head is.

I have to take care of me first or I can’t be the mom I need to be for my kids.

Why do I still feel like a piece of shit for doing something for myself?

Mad at myself not being stronger?

Why do I have to be strong right now?

Mad at my parents for exposing me to their dysfunction because I carry it with me so deeply.

I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ve wondered who I would be if I was loved the way I should of been as a child.

Would I be kinder?

Would I be a better mother?

I am in no way putting all fault on my parents.

As an adult, I am solely responsible for fixing myself now.

Unlearning those behaviors and finding new ways to cope that doesn’t involve trauma.

UGH IT IS SO HARD.

I was driving when ‘die from a broken heart’ came on the radio.

I hadn’t heard it before, it was catchy so it grabbed my attention.

I busted out in tears.

Not just tears- I think I may of screamed to.

Ok…I definitely screamed.

I’m angry. I am so ANGRY!

I’m so fucking angry that when I’m at my lowest I can’t call my mom.

It hurts so bad to not have that relationship.

I don’t care how much she’s hurt me, when I’m hurting, I wish I could pick up the phone and have a mom there for me like one should be.

My heart is broken from my mom.

I am heart broken from the years she was emotionally, physically and verbally abusive.

I can’t be called stupid- even in a joking way, it does something to me.

I read something once about abused kids speaking a different kind of language.

I remember having aha moment. I have never thought about how if someone raises their voice at me, my first instinct is to become defensive.

My anxiety flares up.

It’s a stress response from my childhood.

I’m heart broken from the men she allowed into our young lives.

I’m heartbroken from her abandoning us.

Right now, as an adult… I’m heartbroken that Lennox still asks about Nana.

I guess it was my fault for ever letting her around?

I’m so shattered.

I acknowledged that today.

I have ignored that or tried to convince myself that I’m fine because admitting that it hurts me, would mean that I’m not as tough as I think I am.

Not feeling tough is something I don’t like to experience.

Being tough keeps me safe.

However, that right there,(^) is a coping mechanism formed by trauma.

It prevents me from making a lot of genuine connections because ain’t no one getting behind these walls I’ve spent my entire life building, right?

I had a spiritual awakening today.

I have to deal with the heartache of having an abusive mother before I can deal with anything else.

It affects every relationship in my life.

I’ve been going to therapy since January and we’ve only scratched the surface on my relationship with my mom.

I have MUCH MORE work to do.

That makes me feel uneasy and embarrassed.

I’m so sick of self sabotaging because I’m terrified of being hurt.

There is no way anyone could ever genuinely love me when my own mom couldn’t, right?

I drove to Colorado, rented a hotel room, went to the dispensary, then to Walmart for pjs because I didn’t even pack clothes.

I left this morning with the intentions of needing a day for my mental health.

Something about being alone where no one knows you that is comforting.

I’m safe here.

I’m never ever ever away from my kiddos.

I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve gone to do something for myself since becoming a mother.

I don’t like asking for help.

Today I needed help.

I knew I could text Meaghan and ask her to come get the kids from Joe so she could watch them while he worked.

I knew she would never hesitate to help.

I also got a hold of my sister in case there needed to be extra hands available.

All she said was I love you because she knows that’s what I need to hear right now.

She took Lenny for the night.

So often I’m angry for not having a typical support system.

Forever mad that my children’s grandparents are less than ideal.

My grandparents played such huge roll in my life.

Both sets took a part in raising Abbi and I.

I cherish those relationships.

I’m soggy as hell that my babies won’t have that.

I know that means Joe and I have to be the best we can for them, because we really are all they have.

It makes me feel at ease that my friend, sister, Joe, even my dad offered a hand in helping today so I could have some time to process everything that has happened lately.

“No one warns you about the amount of mourning in growth.”


I will end this with some feel good content.

Last week I got an email from Bobbi.

I said to myself…this BITCH! An EMAIL? Of course because I had managed to block her out of my life completely.

I went to text her but it didn’t light up blue and I thought no way is this bitch using an android.

I replied to the email and she sent me her number.

We caught up about what’s changed over the last year since we haven’t talked.

We are both unsure how to have a friendship now.

We want to respect each others boundaries and get back to a place where we can be in each others lives somehow, someway.

I fucked up.

I handled things poorly.

I let the tough exterior take over because I couldn’t be hurt anymore.

We got on FaceTime to take a shot.

She went to pull out a bottle and so did I.

Btw… I only had this bourbon because a friend left it before my birthday, otherwise it would never be in my house.

We pulled out the exact same bottle.

THE EXACT SAME NASTY ASS BOURBON!

Of course when we noticed we both busted out laughing!

What are the odds?

Coincidence?

fate?

neither?

We still enjoyed it.