I hate cancer.

So my stepmother is sick with cancer and I'm scared to death that she's going to die. She's been with the ovarian cancer for the past 6 years, and now, after treatments, remission, etc, it's been spreading and aggressively growing. I fucking hate cancer. My mother dying when I was in my 20's was traumatic. My stepmother, who is my best friend in the world, if I lose her, I don't know what I'll do with myself. I'm a fucking wreck right now. I'm such a wreck. I feel so lonely. Husband has me living 3000 miles away from my family because of his job. His job is something that he cares about very much. But doesn't make him very much money. For that I am resentful. I missed out on my Mom and I don't want to miss out again. I'm miserable. I hate being so far away. Locked up with Husband and no where near my family.

Anxiety

Here are things I like about being a Mommy: The Baby
Here are things I don't like about being a Mommy: Everything except the baby.

Oh the baby is more than I could have ever asked for. He's beautiful and sweet, he laughs at everything, and lights up when he sees me, lights up even more when he sees Daddy.

But Mommy is a wreck. My body is tored up. Not just from my C-section and pregnancy (it's been 7 months already). But by lack of sleep. I keep getting sick. Like really sick. My anxiety is through the roof, so even if the baby can sleep, I can't. We moved him into his own room last week and it's been horrible for me. I keep watching him on the baby monitor and I can't see his little body moving, so I can't detect breath, so I have to get up and walk into his room to see if he's breathing. I do that many, many times a night. I am getting migraines, I am getting sore throats and bad colds constantly. And did I mention my hernia from carrying him? And my inability to digest gluten? My stomach is wrecked. And I've become agorophobic. I'm afraid of being outside without him. Afraid that someone will kill me and leave him without me. I'm afraid that because I'm not sleeping and my immune system is compromised, I'm going to get cancer and die. I'm afraid (really afraid) that someone is going to break into our apartment in the middle of the night and kill us.

To make matters worse, husband has been working late for the past 2 weeks. Last Friday night he didn't even get home till close to 11. I was by myself watching Forrest Gump. I watched it once before, 18 years ago with my boyfriend at the time. I was high. I laughed at all  inappropriate moments. That wasn't good.  I got one of my friends to give me a prescription for Ativan (I'm a psychologist so I have lots of friends who can do things like that). She made me promise that I wouldn't take it and breastfeed for 6 hours. I've been taking 1/2 of the lowest dose possible it each night before I go to sleep, after the baby is down. But there's no way it's 6 hours until I breastfeed again. So then I sit there and ruminate about how I'm totally fucking up the baby's brain.  I finally made an appointment with a therapist. But I'm a horrible therapy client. I really am. I would never want me as a client. I'm what my kinds calls "resistant."  I also made an appointment with an acupuncturist and a meditation lady because I need a little self care that has nothing to do with the baby.

I'm also in the process of publishing a book on something psychology related. I like this blog because I can put my fucking a mess parts up here and no one will know it's me. Because I'm a fucking mess inside right now. But outside, you should see me. I present like I've got all my shit together. HAHAHA! If anyone knew. If my clients knew how anxious I am. How I use and abuse alcohol, pills, food.  Not excessively. But still, I do. I'm so far from perfect. Which is fine. I don't expect to be, nor do I need to be. But this time of life is so, so very hard.

I miss my Mommy like crazy. She's dead. She's been dead for 10 years. I watched her die of a disgusting disease. She was 54. When I'm 54 my baby will be 17 years old. I hope he doesn't have to watch me die.   I cry for my mom all the time. I feel so alone here on the other side of the country from the rest of my family.  I hate husband for keeping me on this stupid coast that's full of *annoying ass fuckers. I hate him for keeping me here because he loves his less than 70,000 per year job. I used to be the breadwinner, but now I have to take care of baby. And I'm so fucking tired. Goddamnit I'm tired. And I'm sick. I'm so fucking sick with whatever cough/cold/sore throat. And my body hurts. My neck and shoulders hurt. Like hell. I popped a vicodin yesterday leftover from my C-section. It made me feel worse. I suffered all day long with a goddamned migraine.

And I feel like a single parent because husband is always fucking working. Stupid fucking workaholic just for the sake of having to do everything to the extreme. I know he's working and not acting out, before you ask.

My body and mind are on hyper alert and all I want to do is sleep. I need sleep. I'm depressed, I'm anxious, I'm a wreck.

Thanks for listening.


*this should read "annoying-ass fuckers" not "annoying ass-fuckers," this is not meant to be homophobic or critical of anal love making. 

I still exist

Hi There blog. I love you. I really do. You are the one thing that has helped me process through  Husband's recovery. You have always been there for me and never let me down, and still continue to be here for me after months of not posting. And yet I neglect you. It's not you. It's me. And the new man in my life. He takes up all my time. I have to tell you that he's much, much younger than you, and has been keeping me up all hours of the night. Not only am I the center of his universe, not only does he love me more than he loves anyone one else in the world, but he's totally obsessed with my boobs. He also loves to cuddle and when he looks into my eyes, I feel like everything is right with the world. I never thought that I could love anyone as much as I love him.  Don't feel bad. I'm still here and I still care about you as much as ever... But I'm just not as into you anymore. You don't consume my life and my thoughts like you once did.  There's someone who is more important in my world. Oh I'll check in when I can. I really will. You stick around and wait for me, because I still NEED you. I do. And when the man in my life becomes less enchanted with me (in 13 years or so) I will really need you. But for now, please be satisfied with my periodic check-ins and know that I am here and I still love you.

kisses,

Laney.

Oh the baby!

Sorry it's been so long since I've written, and of course my time is very limited while my little one is in his swing, quiet. But I had a baby in early November. I was induced and was in labor for 4 days before they finally gave me a C-section.
I love being a Mommy and love my baby. I do, however have lots of reservations about being a new mom at 37 years old, almost 38. I never felt old until my baby came out, so young. But of course had he come earlier I'd have to deal with a new baby and either finding out about SA or a disengaged spouse. Husband is keeping up with his meetings and groups and therapy. Which I like, but sometimes I'm resentful that he gets support and time out while I'm our son's primary caretaker. Other than that, I'm happy. I can't get enough of the baby. He's so sweet and cuddly and beautiful and brilliant. He's the most fascinating person I know.  I don't think that he's going to be a Sex Addict.
Husband comes from a family of insanity and repression. My mother in law was screaming that we had to get the baby Baptised. And my husband was so happy that she was showing any interest in him (because she now has a grandson) that he told me that we were going to get him Baptised. Well I'm Jewish and we agreed many many years ago, before we ever got married, that we would raise our children Jewish. It's so telling that all he wants is attention and accolades from his mother. But she's a fucking nutcase. She's a hoarder and she smokes 2-3 packs of cigarettes a day, and compulsively shops at goodwill, target, etc. They have a $100,000 mortgage on a house that they purchased 40 years ago for $18,000 because of her compulsive shopping/hoarding. Oh and she burned the house down 5 years ago and they have been renting and are continuously getting evicted because of her insanity and they can't pay rent. And she is sure that they insurance company is screwing them so their house remains boarded up. It's so, so, so sad. It's a crappy situation. And  Husband wants us to bring the baby to visit them. No fucking thank you. I don't want to get on a plane to see them. We'd have to stay at a hotel, and pay for that, and also, we can't go to their house because of the dust and smoke. Most people can't take it for more than 5 minutes. My sister and law and her husband won't even set foot inside, becuause they both wind up coughing and sneezing immediately. My sister in law once fell on the floor and started vomiting when we were there and my mother in law stepped over her and said, "what the hell is wrong with you?" I had to put damp rags on her head and hold her hair while she puked while her own mother just ignored her and blew smoke in her face. Well obviously I'm not bringing my baby to that insanity-- but my husband will want to keep the peace and just go. And if we go and stay in a hotel and ask her to come, it's going to set up all kinds of shit. So... I don't want to go there. She's disgusting and it's disgusting. I seriously hate my inlaws. Crazy ass people. Both Ivy League graduates with no money, pounds of debt and living like people on the show Hoarders.
But besides that, Mommy-hood.
I just love the baby. I just stare at him and cuddle him and play with him all day long. I've never been so content.

I wonder what it is exactly that I want. I ponder that a lot.

If you don't know me

Don't tell me how uncomfortable I look. I'm not. I'm fine.
Don't tell me that I'm really fucking pregnant. Unless you're my OB.
Don't tell me that I've dropped. Because I haven't.
Don't tell me that it looks like I have twins in there.
Don't tell me that it's obvious that this is my last kid and I won't let my husband near me ever again. This is my first kid and we tried for him for years and I can't wait to screw my husband again. In fact, I think about fucking him constantly.
Don't tell me that I don't look pregnant from behind. Wait, you can tell me that, it's okay.
Don't tell me that I'm having a boy, you can tell. lucky guess.
Don't tell me that I'm walking too slow. Fuck you. I'm 9 months pregnant.
Don't tell me that I look like I'm ready to pop. You look like you're ready to pop.
Don't tell me that I look exhausted. I haven't worked for almost 3 weeks. I'm a gay lady of leisure.
Don't tell me that you bet I can't wait for that baby to be out. I have too much shit to do around my house, he can stay put.

You don't know me! You're just walking down the street next to me, or my waiter, or online behind me at Whole Foods. Screw you. Leave me alone!

Lady of Leisure.

I'm very into being a lady of leisure these days. In fact, I think I like stressing about money and not working than not stressing about money and worrying about work. I was really ready for a break when I stopped working. I was tired, and my sense of compassion was waning. When I first finished grad school and started seeing clients, I LOVED what I did. Now... not so much. I think it's just a job that you need to do not that much of. It's really easy to burn out and I tend to be a workaholic. I was seeing too many clients. And I was seeing a lot of low fee or no fee people because I believe in accessible mental health for all... But working for free puts a lot of pressure on one. Especially when you still have to pay for your office and such. And the irony is that low and no fee clients are always more intense and more difficult cases than those who can pay. So, I was burning out big time. If we can afford it, I won't work that much after baby boy comes. Husband is trying to work on the nursery, trying to work hard at work and trying to take care of me. My due date is in 11 days. But who knows how soon he'll be here. I'm pretty uncomfortable. Husband has been lovely about rubbing my feet and legs and being an overall great guy. I am lucky and I do love him. The sex addict part, well that totally fucking sucks. But we're surviving as we do.