Separation Anxiety

I dropped my daughter off at my mother's house this morning, per our normal routine. She (my daughter...although maybe my mom, too, I don't know) was in a fantastic mood today. She was giggling and cuddling and just generally breaking my heart. I gave her extra hugs and goodbye kisses. And she, that little sweetness, blew me kisses at the door...her "new thing."

I won't see her again till tomorrow night. John and I are "on the road again" to NYC for another doctor's appointment. We will leave tonight after work and drive down to stay over-night with his gracious cousins in Brooklyn. Then we will head into the City tomorrow morning and drive home afterward. This is a trip I am quite sick of taking. But, this doctor, the pain specialist, seems to be helping John a little. So we will go. And we will leave G behind with Grandma and Grandpa.

I am slightly more anxious this time away from her. I hate that in her short 18 month old life I have had to spend far more nights away from her than I would prefer. And I know that I am still so much luckier than some mothers who have to endure long separations from their children due to illness, war, family disputes, and any number of other traumatic events. There have been the nights away in NYC. The nights that John was in the hospital and it was just easier to have her stay at a grandparents' house so I could stay at the hospital late and go back early. And there have been the nights when we have chosen to have her stay with someone so that we can have "a night off, a night to ourselves," necessary, and enjoyed, but there is always that part of my heart that just can't settle down, can't stop feeling like a vital part is missing.

I am more apprehensive today because we had a bad experience on Sunday. I took her to the nursery at church for the first time. Normally we keep her with us during the service. We sit in the back and bring quiet toys for her. She can get a little loud, but the wonderful folks at our church don't seem to mind. But Sunday we decided that maybe it would be best to give the nursery a try. I took her down and she was the only kid there. The nursery lady, Julie, seems wonderful and was delighted to have G. I stayed for several minutes and played with toys. G acted a little clingy when I left, but I gave her kisses and waved goodbye and she seemed ok. I stood out in the hall for several minutes as Julie played with her. I went back to the pew and nudged John, told him he should go check on her soon. And I fretted. I worried that she might be unhappy. I had horrible thoughts about Julie and what I don't know about her. I didn't pay a lick of attention to the sermon, I can tell you that.

John went down to check on her after the sermon was over. He came back up with her a few minutes later. As soon as she saw me, her little chin began to tremble and then she burst out sobbing. I took her, and she was literally wracked with tears. She was crying so hard she couldn't catch her breath. I took her to the side room and walked around, hugging her, shushing her, singing, just trying to get her to settle down. She finally did, but she kept doing that little sobby inhale every few minutes, shaking a little. That girl was scared to death. And I felt completely, 100% awful.

John said she burst into tears the minute she saw him come in the nursery door. I don't know if she just thought she would never see us again, or didn't understand what was going on, or what. I just felt so horrible that I caused her that much fear and anxiety. She was only down there for 15 minutes at the most, and I know it had to happen sometime. But, still. It was awful.

And now I need to leave her again. And she won't understand why. She won't know for sure that I'm coming back soon. And though she'll be with Grandma, and thank God for that, she won't be with me.

I well and truly H.A.T.E this part of parenting. The leaving. The separation. It just feels so unnatural to me. Everyday. Still. I feel a little guilty, a little heart-broken when I drop her off in the morning. Throughout the day I get twinges of my own separation anxiety. I constantly feel like I am walking around with hole in my chest, or missing a limb. Just not all there. Not all right. (Insert lame joke here...) When, exactly, does this become easier? When do I stop missing her every moment that she isn't with me? When do I become grateful for the babysitter to come over for an evening, the school bus to roll up on the first day of school, the friend who says "go shopping or get a pedicure, I'll watch her for a while"?

I admit that sometimes I really DO need a break. This child, though wonderful, is not always sweet and charming. She can be whiny. She can be loud. She can get on my nerves a little bit. And sometimes, as much as I would like to play, or even cuddle, there are moments that I just WANT TO BE ALONE, or read a chapter in a book, or go online for a few minutes. I need those times, just like anyone else. But as soon as they are handed to me I feel sad and I miss her. It's not even a guilty feeling, really. I know it's normal to need a break from your kids. It's just more like I get so few moments with her that I don't want to loose a single one. Even when I need a break. Does that make any sense? How long does this separation anxiety last?

Getting In Touch

(Disclaimer: This post..It's long and convoluted. I'm kinda laying it all out there, Internet, so please bare with me.)
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So, I started a Facebook page last week. I know. I'm severely late to the game. I have this blog that I've faithfully kept since August '08 and a more recently introduced Twitter account. I'm out there, on the web, broadcasting my life. A few years ago my husband jumped on the bandwagon and started a MySpace page(and tried and tried to convince me to make one) but I resisted. Back then all my friends had a MySpace page too. I did not. And I did not want one. Then everyone switched to Facebook, where all the cool kids hang out. I resisted. My sisters-in-law, my best friends, my MOTHER even, all tried to convince me that I needed to be on Facebook. The argument went something like this..."Only people who know about your blog can access it. You would be able to update so many more people on Facebook." Ummm, exactly.

And there you have it. The true reason I resisted the world of Facebook. There are people out there. Lots of people. Lots of people who knew different versions of me in previous versions of my life.

I have spent the last few day thinking a lot about what I think about myself. I tend to think of my life in stages. Not necessarily 1.) Childhood, 2.) Teenager, 3.) College...and so on. More like this:

1.) Church girl
2.) College flaky
3.) Someone's girlfriend
4.) Short-lived marriage
5.) Discovering myself
6.) True love
7.) Mommy/Family.

In each of these stages I have been a somewhat different person, a different version of myself. I admit that the reason I was so resistant to Facebook is the fear that people who knew me at each different stage might not like me now. They might not even recognize me, and I'm not talkin' about my face. I kinda felt like I was "hiding out." Out there, in my own private way, but only visible if people knew where to look.

And this blog...it's where I show myself. I always feel like I am bearing a little piece of my soul when I put up a post. Yes, even when it's just a post with pictures of my daughter. Because she is part of my soul, too, a large part. And when I put up a post like this one...I am really letting it all hang out. And that's scary to me. What if people don't like what I have to say. What if it changes their opinion of me? But I love this blog. This blog and I, we have a complicated relationship, actually. There are days when I feel like it is hung around my neck...haven't posted in days, must think of something to write, must take cute pic of G, people are wondering where I am. And there are other days when I can't stop thinking in post titles, composing entire paragraphs in my head before I ever get near the computer. Like a lot of bloggers I kept copious journals for many years. Now they are buried somewhere in the basement (don't you worry, I know exactly where they are) and this blog serves as my journal most of the time. And I don't want to feel like I need to censor myself. Or censor my feelings because of how someone might react to them. So, the dilemma...how "out there" do I put myself?

I finally caved in on Thursday. It seemed like all signs in the Universe were pointing toward "Time for Kami to join Facebook." I'm only partially kidding. I broke down, I signed up, and it had a slightly fateful feel to it. Weird? Yes. Maybe I'm reading too much into it? Maybe. But maybe not. As I'm finding out, it's fairly impossible to be anonymous on Facebook. You become friends with one person who is friends with someone else you used to know....and yada, yada, yada- 5 days later you already have 40 Facebook friends. I accepted one friend request and Boom! Five people I haven't talked to in a few years located me. I friended my mom (yes, my mother was on Facebook before me...I know, how lame) and Bam! People I hadn't talked to in more than a decade found me.

And you know what? It wasn't as scary as I thought. I was a little apprehensive at first. But it took a surprisingly short time to get over it. And then I began to enjoy catching up with people. So, next, I went out looking. And I found my best friend from college, some friends I grew up with, people from high school. People who, in their own ways, have changed just as much as I have. But still remain great people. People who don't seem to expect that I have stayed the same, either. People who I've really missed! And it's starting to feel ok to let people see me, the Me I am right now. I am very proud of the life I have made. I love my husband. We have a rock-solid relationship. I have a beautiful, sweet-as-pie child who is the light of my life. I am happy. If others who "knew-me-when" make some judgment about me that I disagree with, that doesn't make it true, it doesn't make them right. And it doesn't mean I can't be happy anyway. In many ways I feel like I am getting in touch with myself as I get in touch with others.

I think I have mentioned here before that I have never been a very social person. I am naturally shy and introverted. I'm awkward at parties. I hate talking on the phone. I'm terrible at keeping up with people (ummm, that's why there are so many people who I've lost contact with...the picture, it becomes clear!) But I have noticed that this year I seem to be...well, let's just be corny for a second, blossoming socially. I think, no, I know, that this blog has helped that process. And I feel very strongly that stepping into Facebook is another phase. It's the phase where I get to reclaim all those versions of myself and really own them. I can embrace them as Me and not be scared about what that says about me. And, with that, I can embrace all those people who were with me along the way and not be scared that they won't like me now. Because...well, they liked me then. And I'm still me. Just an older, wiser me.

So, Hi! How have you been? I've missed you!

Unplugged Weekend

1/2 of Front porch, Before

1/2 of Front porch, After

Other 1/2 of Front porch, Before

Other 1/2 of Front porch, After

Ok, the floor and walls need serious painting attention, but I have to say, I am pretty happy with this transformation. I was feeling that the enclosed front porch needed a face-lift. I love the porch, and the porch swing. It was one of the main selling points in the house, truth be told. I pictured us lazing about with a glass of ice tea, a good book, rocking the day away on the swing, dog contentedly sleeping in a heap on the floor. I was actually pretty happy with the front porch when I first set it up. But over the 3 years it has accumulated a pretty thick layer of dust, dog hair, and crap that had no where else to go. There are no electrical outlets out there, so that hanging light? The cord has always just...dangled, with no happy place to be plugged. And also, due to the lack of outlets, it is very difficult to vacuum out there. I mean, I have to dig out an extension cord, for god sakes!

Oh, but yesterday! I mustered the energy and vacuumed, dusted, mopped, even cleaned windows! And I rearranged the furniture (and switched out some old stuff for some new stuff). Now it feels much more usable. And cozy. Perfect for lazing. In fact, we did spend quite some time out there after I was done. G discovered the mail slot and spent, oh...7.5 minutes, give or take, opening it, closing it, peeking outside. I am going to have to start watching for things to disappear and end up on the front steps. I could just see her thinking....what would happen if I dropped something OUT there??? It's science, people. I should encourage it, right?

So, what else did I do this weekend? Well, first off, I spent all of it disconnected from the internet. Intentionally. I didn't even have my cell phone within reach most of the time! No blogging, no twittering, no texting even...well, except for a couple texts to Kate, but other than that....

My other big project was The Back Yard. Oh the backyard. Those of you who have been to my house can relate. Those who haven't...I took pictures there too, but decided that I am still to embarrassed to post them. We have a large dog, you see. And a small, fenced in yard. Perfect for G to play in...but a disaster due to said dog. Holes dug up everywhere. Dirt patches from dog pee. Dead grass. It's gross. So, my big, BIG project on Saturday was to clean it up. And I did. I mowed the grass, raked the dirt, put down fresh top soil to fill the holes/uneven spots, spread grass seed, watered. I even planted a forsythia bush. I am also going to plant a wildflower border along the garage wall, but ran out of energy to dig it up. Whew! I have the callouses to prove that I am not much of an outdoorswoman, usually. But it felt so good to get it all done. And, it looks about 1,000x better. But still not good enough to post. The fence is still falling apart, the garage needs to be scraped and painted...oh well, I will be happy with my efforts anyway. We got G all set up outside, too. Moved her fort outside, filled the water table, bought sidewalk chalk and bubbles. Needless to say, she runs to the back door the moment she comes downstairs in the morning. I forsee spending much of the summer on the patio.

To top it all off, I even rearranged the dining room on Saturday, too. G's fort had been taking up a lot of space in there ever since Christmas. When we moved it outside I was able to actually move the dining room table back into the center of the room. The dining room is still Toy Central for the downstairs (is your dining room Toy Central. I find that if you don't have a designated Toy Room, it usually becomes the dining room. Why is that?) but at least we can now eat dinner at the table, like a Norman Rockwell family. Yippee!

Oh, I almost forgot. We even made it to church yesterday. That's two weeks in a row! After...oh, a year. I had almost forgotten how awesome everyone at our church is. They really are great people. Totally welcoming, loving. There is no sitting in the back anonymously at our church, which would be my natural inclination. No, everyone there comes and says "hi", remembers your name, asks about your job. And there is none of that "churchy judgment syndrome" that seems to plague so many of the churches I have been to. So happy we found that church. John and I made a pact to kick each other in the butt to make it on Sundays.

Hope you had a fantastic weekend, too. I think I'll take a little nap at my desk now.

Reminiscing About Life Lessons I Learned. Alternate title: This is SOOOOOOO Not a Wordless Wednesday Post

On their website, Apple suggests that one of the nifty features of an Ipod is "rediscovering your own music." I have found this to be true. I loaded up a bunch of cds that I had laying around, never having the time or inclination to listen to them individually, created some playlists, and viola! Practically instant time-travel.

I found myself particularly sentimental over this song by Rascal Flatts. (Yes, it's country, I'm sorry, I have a weakness for good country music. But please give it a listen anyway...humor me, people.)



I haven't heard that song in a long time. And it still makes me weepy, and hopeful at the same time. Here's the story.

People have told me that they respect me for being a confident and self-assured person. I was not always that way. Far from it. I was never very popular. I had self-esteem issues out the wazoo. As a teen and young adult I felt very unsure of my identity (yeah, who doesn't?) and it took me a long time and a lot of heart ache to find myself. Most of the angsty issues that plagued me revolved around wanting a specific future...husband, home, kids. But, I was at war with myself at the same time, discovering feminist ideology, trying to become independent and less needy. I was breaking free from the values and mores that I was raised with, looking to find some peace with having my own ideas but not sure how to remake myself and still make my family happy. Basically, I was a mess from 19-26. I will try to pare down those 7 years for you and hit the highlights.

I was raised in a very fundamentally Christian family. We went to church at least 3 times a week. Both of my parents, in fact, worked full-time at the church, so, really, we were there much more often. Needless to say, I was brought up with some pretty strict and "traditional" values and rules. Abstinence until marriage. No drinking, smoking, drugs, gambling, dancing. No swearing, no "worldly" music. Purity. Modesty, Salvation. Now I'm certainly not saying that there is anything inherently wrong with any of these values. But I probably don't need to tell you that they can be suffocating. Stifling. I was pretty devout as a teen. I was the definition of a "good girl." I had ONE boyfriend in high school, and we didn't even kiss. Oh, and I was pretty boy-crazy, too. I didn't know what to do with 'em, but I wanted a bunch of 'em (one at a time) and made myself heart-sick over it constantly. I went off to Bible College at 18. Way out in Minnesota. Very far away from home. I was studying music, but in BC you have to take bible classes as well (duh.) I had been struggling with bulimia since I was 15, a HUGE secret that I hid from everyone I knew. That I was absolutely TORTURED over because A): it was a sin, my body was not my own but God's and how could I hurt/damage/hate something that was God's? and B): I was a singer and throwing up is not exactly easy on the vocal chords. I vividly remember purging, drinking some water, and desperately doing vocal exercises to "test" my voice to make sure it was ok. Away at Bible College, my world fell apart. I was so far away from home, from my family and church friends. I went from a big fish at home (at church, I was pretty well known for my singing) to a tiny fish in a vast ocean. I didn't know ANYONE. I made one really good friend there, but, to say I was overwhelmed, scared, and lost is a huge understatement. My bulimia got worse. Much worse. I won't gross you out with the details, but I was purging A. Lot. Anywhere I could. Anyway I could. And I was terribly homesick. I ended up flaking out and decided to go home at Christmas break. I hit a wall 2 weeks before finals and ended up in a huge fight with my friend over my eating disorder. She tried to get me help, I got seriously pissed off...long story short I left the school at Christmas and never looked back. My parents had no idea the mess I was at this point. When I got home, I was still lost. I had not one clue what to do with myself. I think I basically wanted to go back to being who I was in high school, but I had already changed so much. I couldn't find a job. I wasn't in school. I was still dealing with this ED. I was in a bad place.

Eventually, I found a job. And I met a boy. And I enrolled at community college. I began turning farther and farther away from the person I was raised to be, and consequently, from my family. I stopped going to church. I had sex. I began drinking, listening to whatever I wanted to. It was liberating in a way, but also terrifying. I was highly conflicted over all of it, had no idea who I was anymore, or who I wanted to be. I had basically stopped spending time with my parents, even though I was living at home. I spent all of my time at my boyfriend's house and with his family. I built my world there. I allowed that to become my identity. We dated for 4 1/2 years, but it was on and off. He broke my heart on several occasions, but I continued to stick around. When we were "off," I would still be there, hanging out with his family. I really had no where else to go. And they were supportive of me, basically thought he was a jerk for hurting me. And then we would be "on" again, and I would convince myself that some day he would grow up and we would get married and everything would work out. We both applied to Arizona State University after graduating BCC and were accepted. We were going to move out there together and get an off-campus apartment. I made a big stand with my parents about it, as, of course, we would be "living in sin." Surprisingly, they said little about it. Two weeks before we were to move out to AZ, he broke up with me. Again. I was all packed and ready to go. I couldn't go out on my own, I didn't have the money. He went. I found an apartment in Endwell, got a cat and moved out. And tried to deal with my broken heart. And I still spent most of my time with his family. He didn't last long on his own in AZ and moved back home before the semester was over. The cycle between us resumed because I just could not let him go. And I was beginning to realize what that said about me. The bulimia came back in full force. I finally admitted that I needed to deal with that and went into counseling. It helped, but I still struggled. I enrolled at Binghamton University and worked full-time to afford my apartment and school. Eventually, finally, I was strong enough to actually break it off with him myself (it was pretty mutual by that point) and begin to move on. But, I still stuck with his family.

I began dating a guy from work. He was older, divorced with two kids. I was conflicted about the relationship from day one. I was never really sure that I wanted to date him. I broke up with him repeatedly, but he would always talk me back into trying again. And I felt so guilty for hurting him (not to mention his kids) that I went back. Again and again. He proposed to me after about 1 month of dating (in which time I had broken up with him at least 3 times). He was going on a cruise with friends and asked me as he was leaving. He told me not to answer till he got back. I knew I had to say "no". But the idea that I could actually say "yes" and get married, be married, have a house, have a family...it was enticing. But I did say "no" when he got back. He simply told me he would ask again someday. About a year later (and a few more breakup cycles), he did. And by that point, I was so worn down by him, I said "yes". Even though, I knew in my heart I didn't want to marry him. Even though I wasn't passionately in love with him, even though I KNEW I was SETTLING for ok. Not great, not even good, but ok. It would make him happy. Through all this, I was still spending a lot of time with my ex-boyfriend's family. I really hadn't created any other space for myself. They were my family. They knew me so well. They supported me. But they held me back in some ways, as well. And I still didn't have much of a relationship with my own family. I was continuing to deal with the disappointment of not being the person they hoped I would be. No one I knew thought it was a good idea for me to get married to this guy. But by then, I had told people to leave me alone and let me make my own decisions so many times, that they did. No one said anything. Not that it is in anyway their fault, and I wouldn't have listened anyway, but no one tried to stop me from making the biggest mistake of my life. So, I got married.

Four months later, I left. I had met a guy, but that wasn't the point. He and I spent a lot of time talking and he helped me realize that I was completely unhappy, miserable really. I had made a huge mistake. My husband found out about some emails between this other guy and I and accused me of having an affair. I wasn't. But it gave me the chance to get out. I went home from work one night, told him I had made a mistake, I was sorry, but I had to leave. I went to my ex-boyfriend's family that night, of course, and stayed there for a week while I looked for an apartment. I remember my mom called me that night...she found me, I hadn't called her. I was shocked, scared of what she would think of me. I just left my husband after being married only four months. He was accusing me of things I hadn't done, saying I was an awful person. And I felt like an awful person. But, to my surprise, my mom supported me. A few weeks later, she and I had a long talk, and she told me she agreed with my decision to get a divorce. She didn't want to see me miserable for the rest of my life because of a mistake. Even though it is very much against her beliefs to break that kind of commitment. She still supported me. That was the beginning of my ability to heal the relationship with her. I was 26 when I got married, and divorced. For my 27th birthday, I got a tattoo to symbolize the lessons that I learned that year. Be true to yourself. Don't live your life just to make someone else happy. Listen to your heart. Be your own person. Everyone (even me) deserves to be PASSIONATELY in love with the person they are with. Never settle for less than that. And I spent a lot of time listening to "I'm Moving On" by Rascal Flatts as it was pretty much EXACTLY where I was in life.

Two months after I left, I met John. He came in for an interview with me at the agency I worked for (I've met a lot of guys at work, what can I say?) and I hired him. We began hanging out casually with some other friends. I was dating someone else briefly, and had no idea that John was interested in me. But he waited, developed a friendship with me, and eventually, when the time was right, asked me out. I didn't even realize it was a date. He asked me to go out for coffee and hear a jazz band. I assumed it was a friendly thing...after all, John is HOT, he is waaaaaaay out of my league. There were many women I knew who all had crushes on him. About half way through the night, I thought to myself, "you know, this feels an awful lot like a date. This can't be a date. He's not interested in me. No way." But it WAS a date! Yay!! I fell in love with John, PASSIONATELY, fully, wholeheartedly in love with him. It was so different than any of my previous relationships. And I finally was able to pull away from my ex-boyfriend's family. They are good people. And I am grateful to them, always, for loving me and accepting me, and supporting me in many ways as I found myself. But it was really time to move on. I needed to spread my own wings (sorry for that tacky cliche) and create my own life. And I did. John and I have a beautiful, solid relationship, built on mutual respect, love, laughter. He really, truly is my soul mate. And when I think that I could have missed the window of opportunity to be with him because I was somewhere else, making someone else happy while making myself miserable, it makes me sad. But I didn't go down that path. I reversed, chose the other path. And to quote Robert Frost, "it has made all the difference." Life was waiting for me, and I finally found it. I found confidence, too, by learning (the hard way) to trust myself, to listen to and follow my heart.

That's my long story. But I wanted to share it, because I think there are some that can relate to it, can see where I'm coming from. I am so much more at peace with myself these days. It feels good to know who I am, to know I am not compromising myself for someone else. I have made peace with my regrets, too. Moving on...