First off, THANK YOU to all of those who have already sponsored me for the blogathon!!! We have already got over $100 in sponsors. That is great, but let’s do more!! I have gotten some cool prizes to be given away too, so sponsor away!!!

So not only am I insane for staying up 24 hours, but I also fear I am becoming insane.

Yesterday after I tucked the kids in, I went in my room and cried for 20 minutes onto Geo’s shoulder.

I’m very frustrated.

My problem is this: Prior to starting back up with foster care, I was working from home. I had a pretty set schedule. I could usually get 5 to 10 projects done in a day.

I’m still trying to get 5 done a day. Except now, everything is different. I have five children, all with special needs. I have 6, sometimes 7, mouths to feed. I have 7 people to do laundry for. Laundry for 7 people is insane. (I do Geo’s laundry in exchange for free car maintenance. SUCH a good deal for me as my van is a POS.)

I also have become obsessed with the cleanliness and organization of my house. Part of the reason is because we have a constant parade of people coming in here. Social workers, therapists, speech therapists. But also because I find that a messy environment is very stressful for me. It also is very frustrating to constantly be searching for shoes, or keys, or where I put that coupon for $3.00 off of pullups. I am naturally not organized at all and my ADD makes things so much worse sometimes.

But slowly, I am decluttering, cleaning and getting things the way I want them. I know my house will never be pristine, but I want it to be nice. I was so excited to be able to move into the BDH and I want it to be a place where people can relax and feel comfortable.

Everything in my life has blown up in the last five, almost six months. I have zero free time. I used to love when Geo came over at night because I really loved having someone to talk to and hang out with. Now sometimes I feel like it is just one more person who wants my attention. I still love having him around, but sometimes I want to just hide in my room and read true mom confessions or something.

Every single day I have some sort of appointment. I’ve got four kids in counseling, three kids seeing a psychiatrist. One kid in speech therapy. In a few weeks, I’ll have four kids in school. Two will be somewhat self-sufficient but both have educational delays that I’ll need to address. One kid I will have to drive to school and one kid, I’ll be homeschooling. Plus I have baby all day. All she wants to do is hang on my leg and tell me that she is nice all day. Which frankly, isn’t really that nice.

I also have to deal with DFS. Visits, clothing allowances, rules, regulations. I can’t even get my kid’s hair trimmed without having to consult a panel of people.

Ok.

So that is obviously where I am, and of course, things are magnified because all of this falls on my shoulders because I am a single mom. Luckily, Geo has REALLY stepped up to the plate in the last few months. When he is here, he helps with bedtimes and baths. He puts laundry away. Last night he cleaned up outside. He always calls on his way here and asks if I need anything from the store. He picks up baby wipes and milk and on Callie’s birthday, he went and got her birthday cake and even came home with another present for her.

But still, I’m a stay at home mom, so at least 94% of the things that go on around here are my responsibility.

I know that having five kids must be hard, but I guess it is even harder when you have one mildly retarded daughter with depression, one daughter with RAD, ODD, ADHD and PTSD, One daughter with depression, anxiety, and PTSD, and two little kids with fairly severe developmental delays. Oh, and let’s not forget the medical issues of Snowbaby. And Bubba’s recent behavioral issues.

So yes, I understand. I’ve got a lot on my plate. It is a lot. A lot. A lot.

Then why the hell do I beat myself up EVERY SINGLE DAY?

If I don’t get enough projects done, I feel horrible. If I am short on money (like always), I blame myself. I’m constantly stressed about money. Each day I open up my bank account and want to cry. Instead of being mad because DFS shorted me the money, I blame myself because I didn’t get enough work done.

The house isn’t clean enough? Something is out of place? I hate myself.

I forget to pay a bill? I’m late for an appointment? Hate.

The laundry is backed up? I don’t get something out to someone that I said I would mail but ran out of time? Hate.

Last week when I had the seven kids, Geo had walked by the playroom and said, “Well, this room is trashed!”

Now, he meant it as an innocent comment about how having that many kids tends to wreck a playroom.

But it hurt me so very much. I took it as a personal attack on me.

Look, I know that intellectually what I am doing is hard. That I have a lot of responsibility. But for some reason, I am having a really hard time accepting that. I’m constantly beating myself up. If I spend five minutes reading blogs, I feel SO guilty. The only reason I don’t feel bad about blogging is because my family gets a little extra money if I can sell an ad on here. So I figure if I keep writing, people will keep reading and then maybe I’ll get a little extra money.

I feel bad ALL the time. I feel lazy and not good enough. I can’t sleep at night because I’m so stressed about the next day and I wake up each morning and am exhausted before the day begins.

I’m having a hard time dealing with the foster care aspect. I spend all day long with Snowbaby. I love these kids so freaking much. Sometimes I am afraid that when they go home, I’ll lose my mind. I hate not knowing if they will be here on Christmas. I hate not being able to plan more than three months in advance.

I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know how to let myself feel proud of what I’m doing. I don’t know how to stop beating myself up. Everytime someone says, “You are doing such a good job,” I want to say to them…if you only knew.

Having a diagnosis for Bug, especially one that I believe to be accurate, has been somewhat helpful to me.

It makes me feel like I have new things I can try (since the old things obviously aren’t working great). Reading stories and articles that talk about other parents and their struggles makes me feel better. I feel empowered to help Bug. I feel like I have a better idea of what I can do and how to do it. I’ve been reading, bookmarking, reaching out to those I know who can help her.

Despite this, I feel like utter shit, folks.

I have had a sinus infection since the dawn of time. If I bend over to pick up Snowbaby, my head feels like it is going to fall off. I have a to-do list the size of Montana. Luckily, Dad has been coming over and cleaning and Mom has been listening to my ranting.

But I’m sick. I’m exhuasted in every way a person can be exhausted. My mucles are so sore. I feel like someone beat the crap out of me. I’m doing my best to take care of myself, forcing myself to eat, trying to sleep but the nightmares are keeping me up. If they aren’t, Bubba’s continual coughing in the next room is.

What I need to do is take my blanket and Snowbaby and a large cup of tea and curl on the couch and watch my Grey’s Anatomy DVDs.

I know. I’m the captain of this ship. The pilot of this airplane. Take care of me first.

Except of course, I don’t have time to take care of myself. The baby is sick, Bubba has a bad cough, my room is so messy I can’t barely walk into it, and my bank account is empty. Did I mention that I find it nearly impossible to work right now? I can’t work. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I’ve been sitting at my computer for two hours thinking: I MUST WORK TODAY. But when I start to work, my mind goes off to something else and then my timer goes off and I didn’t get anything done. Nothing.

I want my girls back home. I want my babies to feel better. I want this horrid pain in my shoulder to go away and I want to be able to pass air through my nostrils. I want money in my bank account. I want to be able to talk to my daughters without giving someone a code number and without a five minute timer going off.

This concludes this vent.

The majority of my test results are in.

Nothing is wrong with me.

I don’t have diabetes, I don’t have liver disease, I do not have problems with my thryoid nor do I have an infection of some type.

I had a very slightly elevated albumin level. She said it just basically indicates I was slightly dehydrated, but she said it wasn’t even really relevant. Just make sure I keep up my water intake.

Right now, the tentative diagnosis is Adult ADD. It was mentioned in passing at my first appointment, but I thought that there was no way that was it because I don’t act like Bug does. Well, apparently Adult ADD and childhood ADHD/ADD have many differences. I have taken multiple screening tests now, all which indicate that this is probably the case. (In fact, one rather rudely told me to “Seek medical attention IMMEDIATELY”)

I got a list of symptoms of Adult ADD and it was like reading a (rather embarassing) book about my personality. Mom, Dad and Geo all nodded their virtual heads in agreement.

In actuality, having this tentative diagnosis has done worlds for my attitude this morning. You know, I will be the first to admit that some of the issues related to my sexual abuse are still present in my life. I am sure they will always be. But on the most part, I am very comfortable talking about it. I get emails from time to time from people who stumble on this blog and want to talk or want advice on sexual abuse. Doesn’t bother me. When my grandfather died, a large part of the issues I had died with him. The anxiety, the fear that he would kill me or my family. And while I am a little bitter that my stupid ovary issue is related to the abuse, I also feel a tremendous sense of relief that Dr. Gel said I could get knocked up.

I guess my point is..every single time I have ever tried to get help for an issue in my life in the past 10 years, as soon as they hear I am an abuse survivor they pin everything on that. Extremely short temper? Well you are harboring anger from your abuse. Can’t concentrate? It’s the depression. Tendency to bounce around from thing to thing without finishing it? Oh, well maybe you are bipolar. Low self esteem? Feeling that you are underachieving in your life? Well duh, you are an abuse survivor. You are expected to have low self esteem.

And it never really felt right to me. In fact, I had some therapist who refused to talk about anything other than my abuse. Even though sometimes I wanted to talk about my marriage. Or sometimes I wanted to talk about my relationship with Bug.

So when Dr. Lunch told me that I was probably feeling this way because I have depression and anxiety and maybe the Wellbutrin wasn’t working and maybe I needed to try Paxil, I got a little pissed.

Because I know what depressed is. I know what anxious is. And I wasn’t really either of those things. I was depressed because I felt horrible. I was depressed because I didn’t get picked for the kids. But hey, that is normal. It was just a bit of sadness. When I really took an honest look at what effects the ADs have had on me, I would say that they helped but they never fixed. They took the edge off, but they never dealt with 70% of my issues. I thought I would just have to be like that forever. I thought I would be mostly unhappy forever.

And when I really trace back this current downward trend I’ve been in, I can almost pinpoint it.

Right at the time I graduated from college, lost the structure of my classes, lost the security of my GI Bill and was suddenly my own boss and responsible for my own income.

I’ve walked around for the past month or so feeling like I am stupid and lazy. And I’m not.

Anyway, I’m waiting to hear from the doctor as to what the next step is. Of course, the VA doesn’t really specialize in adults with ADD so there is already an issue with medication and the like. I’m working on it.

But I am optimistic. For the first time in my life, I’ve seen a list of almost everything that is bad about me and somebody has said, “Hey. We can help you fix this. It is not your fault. This can be fixed.”

That is very powerful.

Technorati Tags: test results, ADD, ADHD, depression, anxiety, therapy

The foster kids that I was going to get a couple weeks ago had a possibility of coming here today. I’m guessing that there is probably still a chance, but as it gets later..I figure less and less of a chance.

Being a foster parent can be tough because you have to walk a fine line between wanting children in your home and knowing what happens to get them here. Of course I would be thrilled to have those kids here but if they come, then that means that they have entered into “the system” and who knows when they will come out. So I’ve been sitting here all day, watching the clock. Wanting them to come but not wanting them too at the same time.

Meanwhile, I was planning to write a post about how Bug made her first ever basket in her game this Saturday and how she has a cold and gave it to me and how proud I am of her for being so interested in helping out St. Jude’s.

Before I did that, however, I wanted to take a quick look at my bank account to see what checks had cleared and whether my deposits had posted.

Check 2405 had and so had 2406. Not 2407, but 2408 had.

And 2421??

I flipped through my checkbook. Why would I have written 2421 if the next check was 2409? Luckily, my bank puts a scan of every check on the internet so I could pull it up.

2421 to Bug’s school?? And then I look.

My first name is missing one letter.

My last name started with a capital cursive letter, except I never write the first letter of my last name in cursive. I always write it in print and the rest of my name in cursive.

And those numbers. $20.00. Looks very similar to someone else’s handwriting.

A certain 10 year old.

Bug had taken a check out of my checkbook, written a 20 dollar check to her school and forged my signature. The school had taken it and cashed it.

Why? I mean, I had just sent in a check for lunch money a few days before.

Because my check only covers the basic lunch and breakfast and Bug wanted to buy extra drinks and extra food and extra dessert.

I haven’t had to talk about Bug taking food without permission for awhile now. She’s gotten much better. Everytime we go shopping, she picks out a selection of fruit that she is allowed to eat whenever she wants, without asking. She gets three meals a day,  a snack after school, usually dessert at night. Plus unlimited fruit.

But she can’t take things without asking, like the three packages of cookies she ate on Wednesday. She takes them into the toilet with her. Into the shower.

Now, I can see where someone would think that this was just a case of Bug not understanding that checks=real money, but Bug understands that. She also understands why it is not ok to forge checks…in fact, she will be the first to tell you that her mother went to prison for forging checks.

It is all just disappointing. She takes 5 steps forward and 4 steps back. 5 forward, 4 back. If she hasn’t been food deprived, she has unlimited fruit and drinks, plus three meals and two snacks a day…then I don’t understand why she is still having so many food issues.

I guess it’s time to make another appointment with the therapist.

Oh speaking of, I’m taking someone’s suggestion (Amanda?) and am trying to get on lexapro. I’m still having extreme amounts of exhaustion. Still don’t know if it is physical/depression/both. I’ve got an appointment tomorrow to talk to a doctor where I am going to try to get my blood tested as well as my thyroid. I have a lot of symptoms that could be attributed to my thryoid, but of course, they could be other things as well. I’m not sure what is wrong with me, but I’m still working to try to figure it out.

Technorati Tags: foster care, parenting, behavior

In case you are waiting for a package from me or a reply to an email you have sent….I am sorry. I’m working on it.

Yesterday was an extremely crappy day for me. (Was it the most depressing day yesterday or is that the 24th?? I got conflicting reports.)

I’m not sure whether my anxiety is causing me to feel sick or my sickness is causing me anxiety but either way, I could barely get out of bed yesterday. Actually, I really didn’t get out of bed until right before I had to go to my behavior class.

And let me tell you, there was this new couple there. Why they came starting with the third class, I do not know. But they talked THE ENTIRE TIME. Now, if you know me in real life you know that I’m a talker. Actually, you might have figured that out by the frequency in which I blog. (I figure my blog will listen to me yap, if no one else will.) But even though I like to talk and I contribute to the class discussion when I feel I have a relevant point…I do not run my mouth the entire class.

And these people did. They interrupted EVERYTHING the teacher said. They interrupted each other while they were interrupting him. And on the rare occassions that they were not interrupting each other, they were talking to themselves or someone nearby.

I really wanted to punch them.

And you know what most of our class was about last night?? LISTENING.

My God.

On top of that nonsense, there is still something wrong with my van. Geo is going to take it into work tomorrow to try to get it fixed. But meanwhile I have to fill it up with water everytime I go anywhere, which doesn’t really suck but it sort of sucks. And the water all falls out as I’m driving so if you want to, you can come to my house and follow the water trail to wherever I am going and stalk me. (It’s probably only Walmart so you might as well just go there and stalk me.)

And Bug. Do you know how many times Bug talked back/argued last week? 68. 68! Last night when I got home from the class, she was already in bed. Apparently Geo had gotten fed up with her and sent her to bed. You know her behavior is bad if Geo doesn’t want to deal with it. Her attitude just sucks lately. (Is she picking up on my anxiety? Is she just a typical 11 year old? Is she in on a secret plot with the Bush administration to put me in a mental institution?)

I think a lot of the anxiety comes from the waiting game. It is Tuesday. Homestudies on one of the groups of kids that I’m interested in are being collected until tomorrow. One group is having them collected until Monday. I tried to come up with a scientific formula to predict how soon after they stop collecting homestudies they will do a staffing, but we all know that I suck in math and so that wasn’t successful either. So meanwhile, I just keep checking my special social worker email and I keep having no new messages. I do think that the staffings will take place sometime between now and say Valentine’s Day. I’m also waiting to see what happens with the foster kids who were coming but then didn’t and still might.

And I hate waiting. HATE IT.

Also, what the hell is Bree doing? Planning what job you want? How about you plan out how to escape the mysterious order that is chasing your ass? And maybe people wouldn’t be clingy or trying to help you through your problems if, you know, they hadn’t just seen your dad shot in front of them by the mysterious order that is chasing your ass? I mean, get a grip woman!

Wow. This is an incredibly bitchy post. But that is what it is like inside my head lately. So I apologize.

I will end this post on a positive note. Do you know that diet Pepsi does not suck? It is much better than diet Coke. I still like Coke in the glass bottles the best, but they are expensive, but better than any other Coke in a can or a fountain or a plastic bottle. But diet Pepsi=does not suck. Water, however, sucks. But I am drinking it more and more. And I’m imagining all you bloggy people yelling at me when I don’t. Which really, bloggy people, you can back down from all the yelling.

Or, if you must yell, don’t do it while you are stalking me. Walmart is stressful enough already without all the yelling.

Technorati Tags: diet Pepsi, water, anxiety, waiting, Walmart,  Lonelygirl, LG15

Well, if you are sitting on your computer anxiously refreshing to see if I am going to graduate (Hi Mom!) then here is the latest…

First off, how can grades not be due until Monday night? When graduation is tomorrow?? What, they let you walk and then tell you, “Just kidding!! We need our gown back please.”

So I’ve secured B’s in two classes. I’m waiting on grades in the two classes which do not keep online gradebooks (all my classes are online, so we usually get our grades back through an online gradebook.) One class is math, in which the professor told me that I have a B right now, pending the written portion of my final. (Which I think I did good on.) The other is womens studies, where my gradebook looks like the BDH right now..big and empty. I’m not quite sure why my grades in that class weren’t updated, and I have never gotten an answer from my professor. But finally she is responding to my emails where I have resent all the papers I have written (this is a no test class..all writing) and detailed forums which I didn’t have grades for, etc.

And finally, she said, “Baggage, you WILL pass this course.” (And I’m sure she muttered, “Damn insensitive kid. It is Friday night!”
(I hope she doesn’t read this blog. If so, LOVED the course. LOVE feminism. I am not weaker than a man. Frailty is a myth. I got it.)

So, I need a 2.5 GPA this semester to graduate.

Which means I either need to get a B in math and a D in WS or a C in math and a C in WS.

So I’m waiting for confirmation on either one right now.

This is tough for me, because leaving college the first time was a killer to my self-esteem, and when I went back to college I actually cried in the parking lot in my dad’s arms because I was so scared. Somehow in my mind I had equated the fact that I left college as a indictment of my intelligence, rather than a result of untreated depression and anxiety and a panic disorder.

I used to wonder why I felt somewhat intelligent, when I obviously couldn’t be because I couldn’t get my degree.

Now I’m this close, and I’m still nervous. I know this piece of paper won’t mean much..I’m not planning on changing anything in my life after I graduate.

But it will mean a lot to my mental health.

Click for Final Grades. Refresh. Refresh. Refresh.

Technorati Tags: college graduation

Despite my success with the scheduling of appointments, today has not been a good day. I’m not sure what exactly is wrong with me. My head feels FULL. I feel stressed out and anxious. There is no real reason why. I feel paralyzed to do anything, and each minute I do something other than what I am supposed to be doing, I feel panicked.

I’ve gone completely off the wellbutrin. I don’t want to be on anything like that when I’m trying for baby Eldoo. I thought I was doing ok..I had some massive withdraw headaches, but as far as the depression goes, I was doing ok. I felt happy, as witnessed by yesterday’s post.

I definitely think that seasonal affect disorder has something to do with how I feel. I’ve been diagnosed with that before. I need one of those light boxes that American Family raves about. Because seriously? At 1 am I feel wide awake. But right now (5:51 pm) I want nothing more but to go to sleep.

I even contemplated popping one of Bug’s adderall. And I didn’t. Because remember when Lynette on Desperate Housewives became addicted?? Yes, that’s me. Basing my choices on freaking Desperate Housewives. Next thing you know I’ll be burying my toolbox in the woods.

I think a combination of things are at work…one, I do have a lot of work going on. It is the last week of school before finals, I’m trying to get the foster care stuff in, I’m trying to get the damn sperm bank to understand that just because my driver’s license has another address on it, I really do live here.

I also think that it has something to do with the fact that I NEVER GO ANYWHERE. I mean, most days I leave the house just to go pick up Bug. Sometimes I go to the grocery store. But I need to go somewhere.

Geo was going to come over and do a tune up on my van, but bless his heart, he offered to come over and help me clean the house instead. If I at least had a clean bedroom, I would be less panicked. I think I’m going to see if we can go out to eat. If I got out and ate, I think I would feel better.

You know, although this post sounds pathetic, I’m proud of myself. I used to feel this way ALL the time when I was in college the first time. And I couldn’t deal with it at all, and so I did the only logical thing..I cut myself.

But I’ve reached the point of mental stability where I can tell when I’m not feeling good, and I can try to arrange things so that I feel better. It sounds like a small thing, but to me it is huge.

How do depressed people have babies? How am I supposed to get through TTC without my wellbutrin? Can you request a C-section? Because if somebody has to keep checking my cha, I swear I’ll have a nervous breakdown. Britney did it, didn’t she? And then I read something about pooping while delivering a baby and that made me have a nervous breakdown. Am I definitely going to get PPD? Have I told you how strange it is to have a quiet house because Bug has been reading for TWO HOURS STRAIGHT?
This concludes my mental health update.