got my first hater

actually ezk (see comment under my last post if you want to know what the f*ck i am talking about) isnt my first hater. i am my first hater. i doubt that she or he or anyone could say anything to me that is as bad as the things that i think to myself. not that i am encouraging people to try. fact is i am ruthlessly critical of myself. Much of it is well-deserved. Seems like beating the living shit out of myself is what fuels my addiction. At least that’s part of it.

Just to be clear, my husband does know that I sometimes get high when I am home with the kids. I think he probably tells himself that I only take one hit (which is generally true but who am I f*ucking kidding, high is high) or that I don’t drive ever (which is true of course) or that if he were home with three kids 24/7 he might want to be on something too. He rationalizes and justifies and denies the severity of the problem I am sure. He is a classic enabler. Fully sucked into the bullshit.

Its weird writing this today because today is such a better day than yesterday. Yesterday and the day before and I guess probably the day before I really wanted to get my hands on some pot. I haven’t had any for a few weeks. I emailed a few people, which was f*cking pathetic on my part. That made me feel pretty desperate. Or maybe it was feeling desperate that made me do it. But I was unsuccessful fortunately. Yesterday I scraped a tiny leftover speck out of my bong and hit that. It got me a little high. High enough to feel shitty. That’s the really f*cked up thing is that most of the time I don’t even feel good or better after I smoke. I sometimes feel more anxious or self-conscious. But I feel DIFFERENT. And that is enough I guess.

Today is a better day. I am not thinking about pot very much today. I went out to dinner with some girlfriends last night and came home feeling deflated, depressed, overwhelmed. We talked about our kids way too much. Then cancer. Cancer?! At a birthday dinner. Ugh. One of things that brings me down the most about having kids is the possibility that after the hard part, the first 18 years, is over either they wont want anything to do with me or they will but I will die from some awfulness like cancer.

It happened to my mother-in-law. She busted her ass raising her four boys while working double shifts as a recovery room nurse without a whole lot of help from her husband. Just after the youngest went to college, out of the clear blue, she had a massive stroke from a brain tumor. She never came close to recovering and died a year later. At 51. She didn’t see any of her boys get married and didn’t meet any of her six (so far) grandchildren. That is def*ckingpressing.

The other thing I came home thinking about was how isolated we are in my neighborhood. I see my neighbors as we all go in and out of our driveways all day long, schlepping our kids around. The kids don’t play outside the way we did growing up. They are too busy with homework, piano lessons, sports, ballet, “playdates.” Oh how I loathe the term “playdate.” When we moved here I actually tried, hard, to connect with people in my neighborhood. Silly me.

Then there’s this. Since I am staying home with my kids, they are pretty much what gives my life meaning. What if they turn out to be complete jackasses? What if I really screw it up? Screw them up? Its such an enormous responsibility raising children and I feel the weight of it everyday. Will they ever eat green vegetables? Are they getting enough calcium? Will legoboy ever develop any frustration tolerance whatsoever? Will my older daughter do every single drug she can get her hands on as soon as she possibly can? (I did.) Will my daughters hate each other, deeply and completely? Should I force legoboy to plays sports and if not then will he be left out as one by one his friends get obsessed with sports while he still wants to run around pretending to be star wars characters? Will my f*ckedupness ruin their lives? Will they be deeply unhappy? At least I know one thing for sure. It will be all be my fault. Isn’t everything always the mother’s fault?

Meanwhile I am spouting off about how I worry about their white-flour loving palettes but I am willing to overlook that i steal away sometimes to smoke weed in my empty bathtub? What the f*ck? I think the fact the I am such a worrier, and that I feel like so many of the decisions that I make on a daily basis can have such far-reaching consequences, is what drives me to try to reduce that anxiety. Yes I am on meds. 50 mg of Zoloft. It is helping. Just not enough. I haven’t increased my dosage because I am still nursing my 20 month-old and it seems to affect her sleep. Yes smoking weed and nursing a baby. Many of our moms drank and smoked while they were pregnant with us, right? I always try to make sure I don’t nurse her for several-many hours after I smoke. But it’s in my system. I know. Imagine the comments that I am going to get about this. Bring it on. It cant be any worse than what I am already thinking. And so it goes. On and on.

It’s way past time that I get back into regular therapy. If only my therapist would stop going to Nepal for six weeks at a time. Yes I could/should get a new therapist. I could and should exercise too. And I should wash my face every night instead of just when I take a shower, which should be more often. And I should wax my bikini area instead of just halfheartedly trying to tuck in the strays. and I should put out more but I feel so not connected to my husband and I have WAY WAY too much deadbabytrauma to consider accepting a penis into my body when i’d rather curl up into the fetal position. I should cook. I should clean. I should check the mail more often. I should watch less tv.

Electroshock therapy. That’s what I should really do.


~ by complicatedmama on January 22, 2009.

6 Responses to “got my first hater”

  1. At least you wash your face when you shower. I have to force myself to wash my face daily and actually makes charts with checkboxes (oh yes I do) so I try to do it every day. “Drink water” is on that chart and s is “take vitamins.” Motherhood does interesting things to you.

    I tend to classify pot in a category WAY lower than drinking: I wish my mom smoked growing up instead of drinking. But that is neither here nor there. This is going to seem scattered because it is still early and I need more coffee. But I hear you on the staying home thing. It is freeking HARD and I an so grateful that I quit drinking years ago because I would be drinking each day at 4 if I didn’t. I hear you on the playing outside thing: As i recall, the doors were opened and my brother ad I went outside until dinner. And then sometimes after. I am stuck in our home every day now for a week because it is too cold to go out. There I go again, bringing it back to me.

    But I wish time away. In little ways and big ways. I look forward t when my girls can talk and tell me what they need instead of scream and point. And when they are 18 and away at school I will think Why the HELL was I wishing for time to pass like this? I feel emty sometimes, and also wonder why get-togethers must include child talk and aging and disease talk. I miss my passions, my career, my old wardrobe, my feeling like my old young self.

    I’ll need to re-comment after more coffee and after I get back from the gym (also on chart). But let me wrap up with this: EZK or EKZ needs to understand that that all people with addictions, small or large, are evil and unfit mothers. If that were the case than three-quarters of my friends would have been raised as wards of the state. And not everyone needs addiction programs. I was a raging RAGING alchoholic, the kind that would put away a bottle of scotch in two days flat (the expensive kind, so my addiction was disaster in so many ways) and I quit, cold turkey (after many fits and starts) on my own. No meetings, no therapy, no nothing. Just with the support of loved ones. I also quit smoking. And it has been 6 years on the drinking and about 10 on the smoking. Your comment was just so so so not nice.

    Having a good day, like you said you were, is a VERY good sign. Tapering down is a completely legit way to get this all in control.

  2. i ask my therapist questions like that all the time, about how will i know if i’m fucking my kids royally, blahblahblah. she tells me, just because i am asking the questions, probably not. people that talk that bullshit about “you should be arrested…god help your children…” have never smoked pot, never done a drug. they imagine the mom they see on “intervention” or “dr phil” stumbling, passed out, ridiclous. my father was a pot smoker and he was always calm, patient, plugged in. what’s important is that you feel out of control. that sucks.

    my addiction is food. i’m not fat (i mean i’m fatter than i ever was before children, but whatever) so i don’t have the social pressures. but…BUT…i killed my baby (inadvertently, i guess, but you know damn well that doesn’t factor into my guilt ridden thoughts) by emotional eating during the pregnancy. i’m in the middle of another ivf and it scares the SHIT out of me that i might get pregnant after having a dead baby and not be able to control myself. I AM SCARED SHITLESS. it will be A LOT OF WORK. a lot of emotional work. WTF am i doing?!? i don’t know.

    well, glad you’re here writing about it. that’s a good sign.

  3. In my usual opinionated rant form – here you go. Totally ignore me if you don’t like what I have to say. You know I love you.

    A – All of our children will be fucked up in ways we cannot even imagine no matter what we do. Accepting that is mega important, if you ask me. It doesn’t give you a pass on being the best mom you can but it should calm you the hell down about every little thing being “perfect,” which is just bullshit.

    B – I think the best choice I personally made so far was going back to work full time. I think part time works for many people, too, but is financially sometimes harder. I really loved staying home with Beck but I could easily see myself getting all tied up in it TOO much, which is what I see in what you say. Your identity is MORE than their mom but it doesn’t feel like that when you are home all day every day. OF COURSE you feel like everything about them equals your worth. OF COURSE you feel like it will be all your fault. OF COURSE you are bored and need to feel different sometimes. I felt a lot of this in just one year of being home and I live in a big bustling city and was out and about almost every day. I cannot even imagine doing the three kids in the suburbs thing and still feeling like a remotely intelligent or worthwhile human being.

    Honestly, I think there are a couple levels of treatment for you. You can probably kick the pot yourself. As arcane jennifer said, people do kick addictions all the time. But to really help yourself out, it sounds like you need some big changes. I honestly think that staying home for years on end can royally fuck some women up and make them… just… WEIRD. Trust me. I teach 200 children each week and interact with their parents on a daily basis. These are private school kids and many of their moms have stayed home since they were born. And they are WEIRD. They are overly invested and overly involved and honestly? We teachers kind of hate them. Your kids are separate people. Do the best you can and live a life that you would be proud to have them use as an example. Modeling what a healthy, full life is will be more valuable to them than worrying about toddlers and vegetables (an uphill battle if I have ever seen one – I was so smug about Beck eating them so well until suddenly, two weeks ago, green things were suddenly spit out with great dramatic facemaking – hmph).

  4. Hang in there Mama, and for the love of God, increase your Zoloft dosage. People out here are thinking of you.

    PS: Is the pot really the problem? Or just the fact that you are so dang mad at yourself about it?

  5. {{{HUGS}}}

  6. Sorry that you are having a hard time. Thinking of you. xoxo

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