How Do I REALLY Feel?

Last night I went to yoga.

I was not my first time, and it won't be my last, I am sure, but goodness let me tell you, I HATE it.

Case in point: Last night the yoga instructor begins with "Grab a partner."

WHUT? GRAB A PARTNER? I did NOT come here to make friends, much less touch a stranger.

::heebs::

But I am a good sport, and after everybody surrounding me is partnered up, I say, "I guess it is you and me" to the guy standing right next to me.

::shivers::

Have I mentioned I am not all that touchy feely? Like not even ina sensitive "feelings" way much less actual body contact.

Gross. Even if you are HOT. Gross.

Anyhoo.

We are then instructed to grab our partners fore arms and lean back into a seated position. Which I think is dumb, because all the time we do crap like that in yoga without the awkwardness of touching or acknowledging the existence of someone else.

I grab the guy's forearms and he lets me, but doesn't grab my forearms back.

Seriously? Dude, this was not MY IDEA. Just grab my STUPID FOREARMS and get this over with. I am answered with limp non grabbing hands. We both sit back on invisible chairs, only I am doing all the touching and holding and an awkward situation is made more awkward. And now he is laughing all awkwardly like he is in 3rd grade.

And then the instructor says, "Look at your partner in the eyes with as much love and (whatever other words she used)...." and she just trails off into the distance as my thoughts rush to the foreground.

THIS is just my life right now. Hanging on to the wet noodles that surround but don't really cooperate with me. Having no control. Hanging on anyway.

And OF COURSE the wet noodle thinks it is funny. I want to drop him on his preacher seated ass, but I don't.

I HATE yoga.

I spend the rest of the session wavering back and forth between 2 thoughts.

"I am a good mother." and "Gosh this lady sure has an evil smile. How can someone so tiny and bendy be so evil?"

Do I believe either of those things?

I don't even think that is the point.

I just keep holding on.

It's Kind of a Big Deal

I am almost scared to even write this, but I think the PPD is gone.

I don't really know what happened, if it is the fact that I am back home with my friends and family, or maybe my hormones have balanced out, or maybe I just weathered the storm of having two babies back to back, but I feel different.

I will also say that finally finding a great church has helped tremendously. I pray a lot. I am more deliberate with my actions with my kids.

I am still a little "depressed", (always have been) and I will continue to take my medicine. But I feel I have returned to a state of "normal for me". And I don't think I am just doing this on my own, but in conjunction with several things meant to make the demons go away.

And they are demons.

I always wanted to be a mother. So it has been hard to be a mother, yet not feel the way a mother could/should.

I have felt guilt and anger and rage and all these emotions that I never expected.

It has taken a year of fighting it. And it has taken a lot of forgiveness. It continues to take a lot of forgiveness. But I am moving forward.

The kids still get on my nerves sometimes. But in a totally controllable way. I still get overwhelmed by the screaming and crying. But I feel different. I feel - I don't know - a lot more like "me" and a lot less like this big dark monster is trying to take me over from the inside.
I don't cry in the closet.
I don't raise my voice with every statement.
I don't feel overtaken by fear and doubt and the pain of trying to understand myself.

I feel like a mother.
A good mother.
A mother who is free to love her kids.

It is a step in the right direction. And although I am sure that the experiences ahead of me as a mother will be trying and there will be a reasonable amount of bad days, I feel like I am ready to take them on now.

And it's kind of a big deal.

For all of us.

Stupid Fitness Regime

GAH!

If you know me, you probably picture me sitting down. It's kinda my thing. Or leaning. Or laying. Definitely slumping.

These are the ways in which I am cat-like.
Well that and I will one eye you while you clean my litter box.
Meow.

The kids keep me on my toes, but it isn't exercise, in fact, I have never been a big fan of exercise. Or sweating. Or breathing hard.

So the other day when I agreed to this Stupid Fitness Regime, it was obviously because I have made a breakthrough (or been pushed over an edge, WHATEVS).

The thing is, I need this. I need it for my sanity, and I couldn't feel good about upping my Prozac without also doing something about my system and it's well being.

That said, I went running.

I cussed at Boom Boom and made meany faces and also pulled the I HAVE NOTHING MORE TO SAY hand up.

It wasn't pretty.
He was telling me "heartrate this..." and "metabolism that..." and I was all, "stick THIS up HERE..." "and you know what you can do with that NEXT thought...".

But I went. And I called him after I had walked off some of the anger I am feeling at my big ass.

See, my baby just turned 11 months old.
And I still weigh what I did when I went in to have her.
Not happy about it.
Basically, I was hotter pregnant. or skinnier. WHATEVS.

And now, I am moving back to where I came from where my lazy butt was still a skinny little lazy butt.

GAH.

And we have drastically changed what we are eating around here. Like, NO ICE CREAM IN THE HOUSE.

Who lives like that?
GAH. AGAIN.

Gone are all our goldfish and puffs and mayo and whatever else isn't fully whole grain ir might be carb-y. ::sadface::

Now we have grapefruit and apples and oranges and bananas and grapes and roasted almonds and chicken breasts and spinach and yogurt and we can eat as much as we want.
After we run til we puke.

Honestly, I am usually SO HOSTILE about any kind of workout, like want to punch somebody for bringing it up and might push them into traffic if they think they are going to run with me. But, to tell you the truth, by the time BoomBoom comes home in a day, I CAN'T WAIT for a quiet moment alone. And I get almost an hour! Plus, I am sleeping better, and feeling more positive. And I get more showers. And if I just had a little nano or whatevs I would start running longer.

And by the time I am a little down the street, I realize that I really don't get a lot of time in this world without my little family entourage and I feel strange for the first few minutes until I loosen up and try to just start the OCD counting thing I do when I run and forget anyone else in the world exists.

Except this is the ghetto, and I am not kidding, I keep well entertained.

Did I mention that the streets here downtown are like up and down like the streets of San Francisco? So. ummm. OWEE.

And DAYUM.

If I lose 20 lbs, I will still be the size of an average female gorilla.

So. just so you know, that makes me starting this initiative at 172 lbs.

Wish me Luck!

You Get What You Get

So I don't spend a lot of time really talking about myself, where I came from, where I have been. I don't like to live in the past.

I also don't really talk much about the future. I just don't know for sure what is coming up and even when we have an idea of what we think we may be doing soon, I don't really know until I get there.

I have never had a lot of "foresight".

I am just an in-the-now/seat-of-my-pants/a-little-bit-out-there kind of girl who all of the sudden has little beings she has to guide, so now feels like she is supposed to have a plan.

GAH.

Who needs that kind of pressure when you just haven't worried about that crap before?

Anyway, what I REALLY want to talk about right now is the benefits of marriage. And this is kind of about my past.

So I got a pretty money last name when I married Boom Boom. I mean where I come from, (Alabama), Van Derven just sounds rich. Like at least 2 WHOLE HORSES rich. Possibly some chickens.

Just sayin'.

My maiden name was ::wait for it:: Coon.

C-O-O-N.

We didn't make our name up, and we come from a long line of people with the same name, I even used to know an unrelated family with the same name, and somewhere along the line, our name became synonymous with an insulting connotation of the word, and I DON'T KNOW THE HISTORY OF IT ALL, but seriously, dudes, let me reiterate, I grew up in Alabama.

Therefore, I cannot count how many times I have been in an awkward situation because of my last name. I remember Boom Boom watching me at the ticket counter at an airline in Orlando as I checked in. He was hysterical, but also a little scared that this woman was about to jump over that counter and kick my ass.

Or that time I went to get fingerprinted for my real estate license, or that time my new Grandma called out for her new in laws, "Are there any Coons up there?" In a store. In Tennessee. Right after a lovely African American couple passed her on the stairs.

::shudder::

Or the time I asked Doc Rivers to autograph one of his shoes for my Dad. On a fancy golf course. With my boss. And I got him to write "Lee Coon: You the man." While he side eyed me with a raised eyebrow like I was going to punk him.

My Dad's workplace had to get the computers rolled over to some new system a couple years ago, and that included blocking certain language or sites or content that may be "politically correct".

Basically my Dad couldn't send or receive emails for like a week before they realized that his last name had hit the "racial slur" list. That is SO my family, always the exception.

So there ya have it. Just one of the MANY benefits of marriage. And a little something for my little sisters to look forward to. And something I REALLY don't miss about being single.*

And another little peek into my awkward past.

*The ONLY thing I miss about being single is the sleep. ;)