Douchebag alert: I trusted a professional and this is what I got

A f*cked up conversation that should have never happened but not everyone is super awesome, unfortunately.

I went to the chiropractor yesterday, and considered it "Step 2" of climbing out of my mud hole of depression. Step 1 was getting my hair cut the day before, nothing I really raved about because the change was not very drastic, which made me feel rather underwhelmed. Until, however, I read my December horoscope by Susan Miller (yes, I read it a little late), in which she said to wait until after January for major changes (including plastic surgery - not that I am interested, but I was definitely tickled by reading that) because of something that had to do with Venus in retrograde that I can't remember. After reading that I felt relieved: I'm glad I didn't mess with the goddess of beauty while she slept.

Anyway, I waited thirty minutes to be seen. That itself was annoying enough. When it was finally my turn, Dr. D-bag visited me for just five minutes. In that little amount of time, this insensitive, perplexing conversation took place:

"I'm a little depressed recently. I'm just physically and spiritually exhausted. So I am looking forward to a full adjustment today. I think it'll help me feel better."

"Yeah, sure. Are you taking fish oils?"

"Yes, and Vitamins D and B."

"That's good. You know those mothers who go crazy and kill their kids? Turns out they had zero Omega-3's in their system."

I distinctly remember my mouth dropping, and replied, "Those women are actually CRAZY. It's not because they weren't taking fish oils...".

"Oh, I wasn't trying to insinuate anything..." he trailed off into one of those laughs that just turn into more empty words.

So, what I wanted to say, but unfortunately didn't because I don't have the think-on-your-feet-skills that I really need to work on, was:

"Thanks, asshole, for insinuating that I have the potential to do the unthinkable."

(Oh, and by the way, he worked on my back and neck. That is NOT a full adjustment. I needed much much more. But he was busy judging me, taking pity on me, and wanting to RESCUE me from myself. Ma vai a cagare. Italian meaning: "Go take a shit," which, as you can imagine, is the equivalent of "Go to hell".)

Sadly, in my quest to feel better by putting myself in the hands of experts, I was disappointed. However, douchebaggery won't stop me from "keepin' on".

Nike

I just googled "mom blogs" and found a site called topmommyblogs.com, where you can find an extensive list of the most popular mom blogs. The categories, too, are vast. I clicked through a few and was immediately overwhelmed by the amount of content. Then a little voice in my head said, "Stop. You think this will inspire you for your new blog project but it will only distract you..."

You know when you research one thing and then get so tangled up in tiny details that you forget what you were looking for in the first place? Yeah, that. And for me, that means that by the time I'm lost in a labyrinth of material, my baby will be awake and need me, which means I have to put off even longer any writing in my own blog. And I also get really intimidated, so I told myself to close those blogs, open mine up and just write. Professors, my mom, and my friends have been telling me for years, "JUST WRITE. STOP THINKING!" Well... I couldn't let go of my "thinking" for the longest time, so I kept everything in and never wrote.

So, I gotta say, this feels good.

What's up with "Nike"? I wanted to entitle this "Just do it" but that sounded cheesy. So, to be even cheesier, perhaps painfully, I decided to use a pun instead. Ouch.

-mamma cri

Hearts are enormous things

I'm at a time in my life where my heart is heavy and tiny.

It should feel light and huge because my son is my number one joy. He is a blessing and a light that shines infinitely.

Yet here I am, fighting for love. Fighting for fairness. Fighting for spiritual and emotional recognition and togetherness. I keep hitting a wall. And losing hope, for the first time in my life. I am losing hope.

I am also being judged by the very LAST people who should be judging me, on the fact that I am choosing to raise my son at home, and not send him to daycare. I'm struggling to create economic stability but why does that mean I need to throw my kid in daycare so that I can go to work? What I am choosing for my child is what is best for him according to ME. And I have to be judged and feel ashamed? NO. I've had enough of that. I am DONE suffering at the hands of others and what they think is right because of their own insecurities.

When I see pictures of myself lately, I think, "Who is that person? That is not me." That is not my hair. That is not my skin. That is not my mouth, those are not my eyes. Who is that sad, dull person? Where is her light? Where did it go? I have lost myself.

Physically strained, emotionally scarred, spiritually confused and mentally fucked. That is who I am now. Focus, focus on the positive. Focus on my only joy, my son, who is perfect and more than I could have ever asked for. I can do this. But I will not accept being insulted, torn down, pushed around. I am raising not only a human being, but MY son. My husband and I made him. I grew him. I birthed him. I am nurturing him. I feed him, I clean him, I play with him, I sing to him, I laugh with him, I talk with him. He cannot live without me, and I without him.

How can I let him see me in constant pain? How can I let him feel the tension that clouds up my days and makes his mommy irritable, foggy, and completely inconsistent with her emotions?

All I know is that hearts are enormous things. Despite the fact that they function at full capacity only on love and love alone, we choose to shove in darkness and pain, too. Our hearts hurt, and we continue thinking that the harder they get the stronger we become. How backwards. Our hearts continue to shrink and expand, shrink and expand. Well, I'm done having a shriveled heart that beats at less than 100% because it's turning into stone. That does not make me strong. It makes me weak, in fact. This is the weakest I have ever felt in my life. Some of the people around me who should be filled with joy are filled with jealousy, hatred and disrespect, and they are hammering me and my family to a pulp. I am weak and I refuse to get any weaker. What I want for myself and for my son is a heart made of bright blood, infinitely expanding with love for my son, for my family, for my friends, for myself. That is a strong heart. Generosity, compassion, joy and empathy... are the signs of love. Spite, resentment, neglect and ignorance (literally, ignoring things)... are signs of hate. Those are the things that shred a person to pieces and tear apart relationships and families. Like my mother promised herself when she was only 10 years old, I will build my family on the foundation of love.

I love you, little L. I will always fight for your joy and your serenity.

-mamma cri