Addressing The Discomfort

Politics is such a touchy topic. We are literally surrounded by our government day in and day out but the topic on politics brings us so much discomfort. Why? I wonder when it became so uncomfortable to share our thoughts and opinions on any matter to the point where we have to walk on eggshells with our own friends and family. Why is this so taboo? Were we ever truly able to sit across from someone who shared different views than our own and actually discuss our thoughts?

Separation of church and state, or so they say, yet religion seems to always find its way into a political debate. Freedom of speech until that speech somehow aggrivates those in power; power in which we, the people, had given them. The right to bear arms but every State now has a different law and regulation on whether we are even able to carry on that right. The right to plead the fifth will also give them the right to hold you in contempt in you aren’t careful with your silence. We were given Rights only to have them taken away. We were given Rights to protect us only to get it beaten out of us by the Law.

Politics is such a touchy topic. We fight wars that are not our own. We say it is for Liberty and Protection of our own and those we provide alliances for. We give aid, but only if it conveniences us. Our government is in debt; we owe both internationally and domestically. But politics is a touchy topic and if we are not careful with our freedom of speech, we may very well meet our doom with our choice of words.

Welcome to The Unknown

Welcome to the uncertainty.

Depression and anxiety seem to be so taboo of a subject for most people. But my two closest friends are Depression and Anxiety. Some days I feel better than most but those days do not last very long. I fight with myself. I fit within myself. No one sees the battle scars. I am bruised. I am bleeding. I am torn.

There is no cocktail of medication that can happily fix a broken heart. Broken things take time to mend. Like a sparrow who fell from it’s nest, I must tend to my wounds and dare to flutter my wings again. But my feet seem so planted on the ground, fixated on the pain I felt from whence I fell. But no one can feel my pain. I am broken. I am scared. I am …

Strong is the coffee in which I sip each morning, contemplating my every next move. I walk on eggshells around my own mind, not wanting to trip on a wire of despair. Weak is the wall I’ve built around my heart, unable to withstand the storm that is brewing inside my head. I have become my own hurricane. Destruction easily follows.

Take a breath. Take a minute. Take… Take… Take.

Stop giving and just, for once, take what is needed. For you, for yourself. Stop losing yourself in this mundane thought of loneliness. Stop trapping yourself in this figment of misery and sadness. No one is truly alone.

But I do … feel alone. Surrounded by multiple voices, I feel most alone. I hate not knowing. It gives me jitters of anxiety I cannot shake. The future is unknown. The past is uncertain. But my present feels like a gift of chaos. I’m in a whirlwind of my own emotions and I can’t catch my breath.

Scares of Pregnancy

So many people write about the beauty of pregnancy. The wonderful moments of “blessings and bliss” but not everyone likes to ackowledge, publicly, about the scares and tears. I was one of them, too, so I know.
You try to conceive with this notion in your mind that it will be a true blessing and all you’ll have to go through are uncomfortable sleeping positions, maybe some nausea, and heartburn. Other than that, you don’t think about anything else. I mean, why even think about the not so happy thoughts? Will it into existence, right?
I’ve had the worst nausea imagineable since the start of conception and upset stomachs don’t even really begin to describe how I felt. I lost 5lbs in two days from throwing up and not being able to keep anything down. I felt miserable. My face broke out like a teenage boy going through puberty. I did NOT feel very pretty in these moments. Still, I was so thrilled to be carrying life within me.
Here I am, almost in the home stretch to the second trimester, the safe zone, and I walked out of work in tears because I just passed the biggest blood clot I have ever laid eyes on. “Oh, God, no. Not my baby. Anything but my baby.No, no, no, no.” I had to collect myself, compose myself, and calmly drive to the nearest Urgent Care center. And I was fine, keeping my nerves calm as to not scare my 4-year-old who was with me.
“Hi, I need to be seen, I’m having some bleeding,” I said to the front desk receptionist.
“What kind of bleeding?”
I swallowed shakingly, tears filling up my eyes quicker than high tide and said, “I think I’m losing my baby.I don’t know what to do. I just need help, please.”
They took me in right away, no more questions in the lobby. My ten week old fetus was later seen on the ultrasound, kicking away. Heart rate at a steady 195 bpm. I cried of relief but it was so hard to be happy. I thought I was losing my precious child. I kept thinking, in that moment, that if it was gone, truly gone, I would not be able to try again. The pain of even thinking of this loss was too great for me to handle.
They called it a Threatened Abortion/Miscarriage. Threatened.
I took the doctor’s advice and stayed on bedrest. But not for very long. My sister was getting married and I needed to put my big girl pants on to be there for her big day. Not long after this happened, I packed our bags and drove six plus hours. I was in so much discomfort, so much agony. I was depressed. But I knew I had to be there for her and I needed to be surrounded by family. And what a beautiful weekend it was, full of love and happiness.
After coming back home, I went back to work for three days. Three normal days until I woke up that one morning with blood trickling down my thigh. “Fuck, not again!” I woke up my young toddler, told him he needed to quickly get dressed and come with mommy to the doctor’s. We are going to check on baby this morning.
Same situation at 12 weeks gestational age. I should be safe here, right?
Another sonogram showed baby kicking away, learning how to swallow in utero, and just bouncing away in the amniotic sac. I should be happy. I should be so relieved. So why am I not? I can’t help but worry and the last thing I need is added stress, says the doctor. I am trying. And my wonderful, dear boyfriend is doing all of the lifting up he can so that I don’t need to stress. So why do I feel so down, still?
I feel flutters now. A movement made by baby called quickening is happening within me. I start to crack a little smile here and there. “Thank you for letting me know you’re safe, little one.” I am doing all that I can to make sure you stay healthy until 39 weeks when I can finally hold you in my arms.
13 week first trimester scan went beautifully. Somersaults, back flips, and swimmer’s kicks prove to me you are stronger than I am imagining.
But I’m still not out of the clear. Still spotting. Still cramping. Still stressing.
No one likes to talk about the scares and the tears … but they very much so exist, still.