I never planned on having children, so the fact that I have 3 almost feels like I’ve been punked by one of those “never say never” situations. I remember being 18 in the women’s underwear section of Target with my mother and sister, arguing with my mother that I didn’t “owe” her any grandchildren. I had absolutely nothing to do with the physical event that led to my conception; that was purely her choice and I was determined then that mine would be absolutely no biological children. I preferred adoption, if I decided to have children at all. The aspiring world changer in me, freshly graduated from high school, had her sights set on joining the Peace Corp and from there, who knew where life would take me. I wanted to be free as a bird, on the front lines of a cause, making my voice heard, putting my hands to work for others, advancing justice while rocking out to Prince. Children? Pfffft. Continue reading
Confession: My greatest fear is that I will lose my life to suicide. I don’t say that to be melodramatic, I simply state it as a fact. As a person living with bipolar disorder, it is a fear that silently … Continue reading
I’m currently taking an eCourse called Liberated Lines. I jumped at the chance to take it because not only do I love Alisha’s work (I’m a new and HUGE fan), I’m also trying to find my poetic voice again. It’s been years since I’ve written poetry, and since my goal for 2014 is to embody who I am as a writer and artist, this course is the perfect chance to jump back in, head first. I’m feeling all wobbly and rusty, but also very good to be working these creative muscles again.
Here’s today’s entry, quick and dirty, just speaking what came to mind…
“This is no ordinary love”, it whispers softly as it dances its faceted blues in the sunlight. I pause and let this truth wash away the stress & toil of marriage that collects from time to time like the grit & grime that collects under one’s fingernails. As it does, I feel my shoulders slowly sink back into their foundation and as the tension recedes like the tide, I open. To him. To us. To impromptu rendezvous and lunchtime mojitos. To connecting in the midday amidst the grind of daily living and earning to provide. I unfurl and soften as I watch the blue dance in the light. I open and let my heart stand naked and unashamed to the one who loves me like none other. #liberatedlinesopen”
Feel free to follow the #libertatedlinesopen tag on Instagram to read what words we unearth over the next 4 weeks!
Hello, dear readers of Butterfly Confessions. Lauren of My Postpartum Voice here. I’ve recruited some of Addye’s friends to write posts for her blog while Addye babymoons with hear new little one. This letter is the first guest post and it’s written by the fabulous Susan of Learned Happiness. If you’d like to submit a guest post to be published while Addye is babymooning, email me at mypostpartumvoice (@) gmail with “For Butterfly Confessions” in the subject line!
Without further ado, I present Susan’s lovely words for Addye…..
My Dear Addye,
You and I have been friends for 3 years, now. And in that time, I have watched you transform into a wholehearted woman. You took chances with your life and made huge leaps of faith – faith in yourself more than any one person. You have learned to be honest with yourself about who you are and who you want to be. Your integrity has been hard-fought and is well-deserved. You honor me with your friendship.
You said when you married Bert and took his name that it was the beginning of a new life – one written by you and you alone. One that speaks to all you hold sacred and points to a fulfilling life with your family. And this baby? Is a part of that new life. I can see it in your eyes – in the way you look at him and hold him. I have experienced the hope brought by a new baby birthed in joy and a sense of calm. It renews the spirit. And I couldn’t have wished a better birth experience for you.
Remember that no matter how good your birth (or how much you love that amazing tiny man), having a newborn is a special kind of torture. The nights are long and the days are even longer. And no matter how happy you are, it’s okay to be exhausted. It’s okay to be emotional. And it’s okay to still need help. This is not a test of your spirit. You are not being graded on how gracefully you weather the fourth trimester. There will be beautiful moments and there will be unbearable ones. And your tribe? Will be standing beside you for both.
I hope with all of my heart that the darkness you fear is blotted out by your joy. But if it’s not, if it all becomes too much, you are armed and you are never alone.
With all my love,
I’m approaching week 38. Still contracting. Still not progressing much. As of Wednesday, after 15hrs of contractions? 1 1/2 cm and 50%. I startled my OB with my exclamation of “FUCK!” as he finished my cervical exam.
Distraction has been my focus-anything to take my mind off my body, and keep edginess away. Last night’s distraction wwas season 2 of The Fresh Prince of Bel Air. This morning’s was scrubbing the grout between the tiles in kitchen til they were white. I found the rhythmic motion and sound of the scrubbing brush and soapy floor sparkling in the sunlight from the kitchen windows soothing as I went about it.
Bertski came back from the run I practically pushed him out the door to take, and we took the boys for a bike riding lesson on their newly acquired bikes at the middle school track down the street. They rode, they ran, I sat and soaked in the sun before making way around the track as Busta Rhymes & Talib Kweli blared through my headphones.
Just now, while laying here listening to my family snore the afternoon away, confessed these words via text to a dear friend who’s worried about how quiet I’ve been lately:
“I keep telling myself once I have the baby I’ll feel sane again. And not this anxious desperate person with thoughts that are too loud & too fast and who wants out of her body. I think that’s half the reason why I want to have him already. I haven’t felt like myself much of this pregnancy and that unnerves me. “
I know it’s normal for women to feel like they’re going mad with the waiting and anticipation of baby’s arrival and from the physical strain of the final weeks. I do. But I don’t like it. It’s unsettling. My mind can’t take it, it’s not wired to handle such things very well without help. (Meds, YAY!) I’m also an impatient person by nature and while my pain threshold is relatively high, being in pain and under physical stress daily is triggering for me mentally & emotionally.
I just want it to be over and have him in my arms and my own physical space back. I want my hormones adjusted, my mind off the hamster wheel and fully engaged with living and learning as a mother of three. I want newborn snuggles and laughter and to not be consumed with the obsessive, compelling need to have everything in its “right” place internally and externally, from my house to the cluttered corners of my mind. I want to feel like myself more often and be consumed with the goodness that’s taking up residence in life as the year prepares to close. I want to be present, not lost traipsing the corridors of my mind waiting for them to empty so I can breathe freely again.
I want to run. Not away to escape, but toward. To freedom. To the woman waiting for me on the other side of this. She’s fully enjoying the season that’s ahead and I’m desperate to join her.
But it I have to wait and somehow make patience my virtue until it’s time.
My body shakes with the hope that it’s soon. Very soon.
Fear has become my constant companion these past months, sowing seeds of doubt, confusion, and discouragement that have taken root deep down inside of me where my essence and passions are conceived. It has choked my creativity, inhibiting my freedom … Continue reading
Thanks to the invasion and conquering of my body that is the first trimester, I’ve been feeling like death lately. Fevers, allergies, nasal congestion, round ligament pain, hellacious back and pelvic pain, all day morning sickness, lack of quality sleep yet bone aching fatigue….you name it, my body has been tortured with it the last 8 weeks. We’re not even going to talk about what only being on one medication (an anti-depressant that triggers some good ol’ rapid cycling between hypomania and depression) has done to my mental state these past weeks. Or maybe we will, but not today, simply because I only have enough energy to type a paragraph or two and then I’m going to go back to being The Blob.
What we WILL talk about is the music that’s been rescusitating me when my mind and body tap out. Music really IS therapy, and in my case it’s been my life support the past two weeks especially.
First up we have Mr. Timberlake…I mean, do I have to say anymore? If you haven’t let the groove get in you lately, I highly recommend purchasing The 20/20 experience, closing your windows & curtains, and dancing til your feet fall off. Even my zombie ass has been shaking it-there have been days I wouldn’t have been able to gather the energy to brush my teeth or feed myself had I not put on “Let the Groove Get In,” “Mirrors”, “Spaceship Coupe” or “Tunnel Vision.”
I have this thing for Marc Anthony-not because he’s physically attractive but because when the man opens his mouth the most beautiful sounds come out. The man can sing, period. His salsa albums are staples in my music collection, so when I found out HE’S BACK WITH A NEW SALSA ALBUM-his first in 10 years, I nearly broke my fingers trying to download his new single on iTunes. This song? GIVES ME LIFE. Gives my hips life too, too much in fact, because after dancing to this, the pain is unbearable-but so. damn. worth it. Listen for yourself….
And finally, THE SONG that has just been KILLING me not so softly every time I hear it is the latest from Janelle Monae and Erykah Badu. First of all: Monae. Badu. Are you freaking KIDDING ME? I’m still in shock that two of my favorite female artists (who are bad ass on their own individually) collaborated on a track together. And unlike LL Cool J & Brad Paisley or Beyonce & Andre 3000, these two have crafted a funk/rock hybrid that’s a f—king masterpiece. From the lyrics (especially Monae’s rap at the end!) to the music itself, it’s just an incredible piece of work, and a welcome relief from the oversexed R&B/hip-hop/pop nonsense that’s dominating the airwaves right now. And the video? Pfffft. S-I-C-K. I dare you not to shake or twerk something to this….but for the love of all that’s holy, PLEASE don’t record a video of you doing so-the world doesn’t need yet ANOTHER video of a female (or male) twerking it in booty shorts. Leave the webcam off :)
Anyway, enjoy the epic-nes that is “Q.U.E.E.N.” Pure art & pop genius. WERK IT.
What music is giving YOU life these days?
First, some snaps from Alex’s post bath photo-shoot…
And secondly, I’m pretty sure my heart grew 2-3 sizes thanks to all the love pouring in it while these moments were captured. Which, if you ask me, is just the kind of expansion my mama heart needed seeing as though a new resident is moving in…
Looks like I’ll be having more than just turkey for Thanksgiving this year, y’all :)
My big boy is going to be SIX y’all. SIX. I can’t….I just….HE’S A MAN CHILD.
You can read last year’s birthday post here: http://butterfly-confessions.com/2012/02/22/he-fixes-me/
Today I’m supposed to be telling you about the time I nearly died during a military exercise in the Nevada desert.
Me+5 cans of tear gas+gas mask fail=the fires of brimstone & damnation taking up residence in my body.
It’s a good story, but before I share it with you, I have to explain why I am.
I told my friend Susan about it and she almost died from laughter. Death by laughter is a much better way to go than death by tear gas, in case you were wondering.
Anyway she didn’t really almost die laughing (duh, it’s called exaggeration) but she did have tears in her eyes, and after she composed herself she reminded me of something-I don’t talk about the other parts of my life here very often, if at all.
I’ve spent the majority of this blog’s life telling you about my struggles with mental illness, motherhood, & low self-esteem. I’ve touched a little on social issues & religion too, but the only “light” thing I’ve shared here are my Napoleon Dynamite-esque dance skills. (New here? Check the “Dance” tab up top)
I realized there’s so much about myself and my life that I haven’t shared with you, especially the parts that aren’t so heavy. Example: I used to show dogs (think Westminster type dog shows) when I was 8 years old. Also? I was pretty damn good at it too. See? I haven’t divulged that kind of info and I feel like it would be nice to do so.
So moving forward, I’m going to try and be more open not just about the heaviness of in my life, but the lighter, funnier, interesting experiences I’ve had as well. The stupid mistakes I’ve made,(like dating a guy I met on a greyhound bus on its way to Jacksonville, Florida…after almost marrying this OTHER guy I had moved to Florida for…all while I was 7 months pregnant. Yea. that.) stories from my Air Force days (like the time the government thought it was ok to let me be qualified to use seven different deadly weapons) and other random stuff from my “pre mom, pre mental illness takeover” days. Maybe I’ll even throw in some high school stuff so you can see how giant of a dork I was. (And still am)
I don’t share enough about the other parts of my life or the experiences I’ve had outside of being a mom & a manic depressive, and I’d like to thank Susan for pointing this out to me. You should thank her too because some of these stories will be TMZ-worthy. I can hear your inner gossip hound licking its chops in anticipation.
First up will be the tear gas story. I’ll try to have it up by tomorrow or over the weekend at the latest. I have to talk to some of the people who were there with me to refresh my memory on some of the details. (Inhaling tear gas causes black outs & mild amnesia)
Get ready to (hopefully) laugh your ass off at my expense. There WILL be talk about loss of bodily functions & the expelling of bodily fluids. You’ve been warned.