Showing 3 year old pictures of my pregnant belly

I have shown my three year old son this morning, pictures of my pregnant belly. The following are some of his comments/questions.

“Who put me there?”

“How’d I get out?”

” I comed out?”

“What size am I now?” ( I have pictures each week of what size of fruit he was. )

“I want to go back in”, as he proceeds to push his head into my stomach.

 

Past and Present Person

Well I don’t mean for my past to dissappear. More so-angry at myself for choosing the choices I did in it. The past is just there- I can’t blame it. It doesn’t even have a choice to be alive or not. We choose that.

We all know that the Past is a person that highly influences our being with Present. ┬áThere’s a relationship between the two, even if we don’t want it.

You get them in the same room and it births a person called Future.

Umbilical cord,blood, crushed hands and all.

Welcome to the World my little big Future.
We’re going to do Wonders.

A Powerful Hospital Visit in Thailand

It’s odd seeing people dressed in bar clothes in a hospital.
At least not in the asthma and allergy center.
As I’m writing this I realise I really could make a valid stand on why bar girls may be in this part of the hospital. Even more of a valid point if they’re with their 75 year old partner.
The real reason I write this post is because of what you’re about to read.

I hated every nurse in the room for the minute ( which seemed like 9 ) that they held Zeek down and took his blood. They wrapped him tight in a blanket and there were three of them standing over and while he began to wail, before I even felt anything,tears formed in my eyes.
I wasn’t expecting to feel what I did. This helplessness. This anger. I just wanted to rip him away from them and hold him. I looked around at everything and I felt hate for Lilo and Stitch. They were on the wall dancing away and they were far too happy.
My stomach turned and I felt thin and almost that I could faint.

And then he was handed into my arms and he stopped crying and put his head down on my shoulder while I wiped away the last of my own tears.
He was sleeping 3 minutes later. In my arms.
And I looked at his face,all blotchy and red and I said, ” I love you beyond what I can tell you, and that will never change.”

Writings of My Dark Room

Last week I went to a very dark place.

For four days I stayed inside those walls.
I was aware of all the things I should do, that I needed to do in order to be better. But I didn’t care and I became numb to things and I went out for hours at a time drinking and wandering and not even feeling alone..but.. helpless.It’s an odd idea. To have such a detailed awareness of what I need to do, and then to actually feel unable. To feel the in ability and to know that I’m making it up. That it’s all me.That I’m the one making the problem, enlarging the issue. Im the one being ridiculous and child-like and yet… I feel too weak to change it.
I began to blame every little difficult thing-like the way Zeeks bag wouldn’t zip up on the first try, or tripping over wires, if Zeek cried for more than two minutes- I blamed that on the fact that it was because I was here in Thailand. I began to get angry and I didn’t even realise it was happening.

I had felt that I would be able to get on track and get involved and do more things with Zeek outside of the home. I really believed I would.
And then. It kept on not happening. I kept telling myself I was happy working on my videos and pictures and that if I could just get those done I would feel better.
But I just got in deeper. So deep that before I knew it, I was shutting down and walking with this cement structure around myself, ignoring Morgan and doing the minimal with Zeek.
Light could not enter my space. And I don’t think I even wanted it too. For the first time in my entire life, I actually felt incapable of fixing anything. Incapable of breaking the cube, of being happy. I felt life slide from my finger tips and my lack of care became what I breathed everywhere I went. I stopped eating and using drink, I both mentally and emotionally exhausted myself.
I knew I needed to be better and I knew Morgan and Zeek didn’t deserve to be treated the way I was treating them. I knew I was failing and I just got more angry at myself. I was miserable. I didn’t even feel alone. There was a layer of numbness to everything else I felt. I was unable to be the person I wanted. I hated that I had created this room and the person I was being inside of it.
I hated it, yet I felt I could not escape it..

In the meantime I of course stopped all contact with my family and my mother worried and wanted to talk but I felt like doing nothing of the sort and I stopped emailing the few people I was because silly this, the wait time for responses had me going wild.

I removed myself from any light because I felt all it did was make the issue less raw and I needed it to be raw in order for me to come to this point.

You would think after five years of living abroad I would have accepted being away from Canada but it isn’t the case. I guess that’s partly where all the phases and stages come in.

I have reaccepted my stay here and I have reevaluated my time and I’m kind of ready to not sulk here anymore. I’m okay.

Because it got me to a desperate make believe,four walled room where enough dizzying circles would have resulted in me being put on a plane without my son and flown to my home country where counselling sessions would have been forced into my brain space.

Sometimes I guess, we need refreshing. Sometimes we need to defrag our computers, delete various people on Facebook we don’t even know anymore and dye our hair. Sometimes we need to make big changes in order for us to continue- or even to be – happy.

Incapable of Fixing

I am more ready than I ever have been, to leave this country and live in my own.
Because of this, I am already half out of it. Half living here, half into everything I do here, half gone.
I am very aware of all things negative. Aware of the things I need to be doing to be better. I am aware of my faults and my lack of effort. I am aware of my awful behaviour towards my partner and sometimes even Zeek.
I know all of these things but I feel incapable of fixing it. Of changing it. I feel like I feel nothing sometimes. I feel a lot sometimes. Weights. I feel that I’m watching the days go by because they are what’s bringing me to the days where I am supposedly more happier and that I’m waiting for that happiness instead of creating it.
I am aware the danger in mistaking Canada as my only source of happiness. As the one thing that is going to cure this. I am aware that once I get there, I may be disspointed. That once life starts back up, that there will be things that surprise me or alter what I think makes me happy.

I have breakdowns every now and then, and after 5 weeks of zero contact with my mother, I called her crying. Everything seems so much sometimes.
And it wasn’t until the phone call that I said aloud that it was the unhappiest I’ve been in a long time. Previous to this call I said I was happy, I just could be happier. But the truth is
that.
That I am unhappy and I feel trapped. I feel stuck because I know of all the things to do and ways to be in order to be happy, but I am unable.
I don’t ever recall feeling this way. Inadequate. Incapable. Being upset with me.
I am not depressed but I feel that this is how depressed people feel. Unable to change the slump they are in. Either a mixture of not wanting to, laziness, hopelessness…
I have a lot. I have someone who loves me, I have money to buy things and places to go for massages and manicures and someone who cleans my house and takes care of Zeek when I want to go out.. i have a pool and an oven, a hammock and a chocolate advent calender.I have so much, yet I am sad.
I am guilty of living this lifestyle and not being happy. I am not content, or satisfied or okay with life here. And because I have already convinced myself of that, living a good thing here, becomes difficult.
It is not fair to Morgan or Zeek, to be in such a state. To be in this dramatic low.

I would like to be better.
I would like to feel that I could try. That there is a space to do so in.
I am tired tired tired all the time.

Being a parent is an on going preparation. There are always things to think for. I must think three hours in advance every single day.
And suddenly, taking a trip to the beach or going out for dinner, becomes a chore. And I recognize that it is so easy for people to plan it. For people to get ready and go.
I had friends here this weekend. And I saw it.
That they had no thought of any of the 18 thoughts that I had.
And I realise that I need to be better at this. Better at going with the flow and not caring so much. But at the same time, planning and being prepared, makes it easier.
Planning is slowly making its way into just how we have to do things now. Because that is part of what being a parent is. That won’t change.
But I guess that I continually feel the stress of thinking myself. Of all the things I need to bring and that if I forget something, it is my fault.

I apoligize for the somewhat repetitive nature of my recent posts.
I’m just stuck.

I Struggle with Myself

I’m a bit lost these days. What does one do? I guess I never thought I would be in this situation because I’ve been pretty darn great at keeping myself happy. But it is a new low.
When you know you can be better in your relationship, when you know the things you need to do, but you have no will to do them? When you know you are capable of being happier and you are focused on what you think you need but deep down you know that you need to fix what you are in.
You need to fix what you are in because right now, it is fixable.
But it is the most scariest thing I have ever been a part of because it deals with my child and my marriage and I now, after only so long, I realise I am not fit to be commitable. I can’t do it. I run. I have run all my life out of relationships.From people that have wanted to marry me. From people that would have done so much to keep me.
Little things irritate me and I have been able to run because of all the others out there.
Even now, they are there. But it has taken this long for these things to add up, about him. About the guy I married. It has taken this long, four years, for even the tiniest bit of running thought, to enter. And I wonder, why the hell now.
I am so far removed from this situation. I’m already out and I don’t want to be in. But I feel pressed to be and we started documents today to move to Canada and I know I am supposed to talk to him and say everything and spill it all, but I am Running Women, I have been doing it all my life and this is where it gets me. To here. To a dead end. Because I know I will not be happy. I am doing this to him and to myself. To our son.
And I feel so messed up. There is noone I have. No best friends. Noone to talk to.
I’ve got myself here,
How do I get myself out ?

Plummeting

My marriage is failing.
It is crumbling and it is not because of him, it is not because of us, it is because of me.
I am the most lost I have been in 10 years and I am drinking everyday and I want to go back to Canada and I am not putting effort into living in Thailand because I’m already gone.

My situation is threatening everything I am coming in contact with .
Since having my son one year ago, it is the longest I have went without contacting my family.
I have no desire to.

It is ugly amazing. How much one can have. A loving faithful husband. Money to get massages and facials and pedicures. A pool to swim in everyday. A maid to come clean house every other day. A happy healthy child.

I am not happy with myself and I don’t know even want to get out of it. I have slumped into this lazy haul and I am directing negative into the people I love.
Into myself.
I don’t even want to try and be happy.