Postpartum Depression

Super exciting news everyone! On Wednesday October 11th, 2016 we welcomed into the world the newest member of our family, Piper. I am once again an auntie! Everything went perfect and she's a perfect bundle of joy. I was lucky enough to be there for the entire experience and witnessed the miracle of childbirth firsthand. I think it is best described as UUAAAHHHHH, *toothpaste squeeze*, POP! SPLLOOOSHHHHH, WATERFALL OF LIQUIDS, WAAAHHHHHHH.

Overall it was very interesting and very rewarding. Unfortunately, the reality soon hit me and my emotional train choo choo'ed right out of the station. What sucks is how you can be so happy for someone but so sad at the same time. Just being up in the room, becoming an auntie to a new little angel but at the same time becoming the only woman in the family who has yet to have a child of her own. Every time the doors of the elevator open and the big window of the OB nursery fills my view I remember back to a time I was so full of hope and nervousness, so sure that I would be having a baby within a year. Those memories never go away either. The baby class, the pamphlets, the happy browsing for what items I was sure we would need, potential names, announcing to our stepson on a car ride to a concert, "So how do you feel about becoming a big brother?!". Just knowing it was finally time to bring a new life into the world. Then the pangs of sadness come, the memories of the bloody sign my period came again, the negative pregnancy tests, followed by negative ovulation tests. Blood draws, consultations, more tests and bad news. The tears that never seemed to stop, the emptiness, the hope turns to hopelessness, self doubt, wondering if this is the universe telling me "You are unfit to be a mother". Then the self-hate, telling myself I don't want kids anyways, I can't even take care of myself how would I handle taking care of someone else. Attempts to convince myself, I don't even like kids. What makes me think I'm allowed to have a child, I'll just fuck them up too. I should just be alone forever, I don't deserve anything. The anger at the world, I should have had that, this should be something I know about firsthand, this should be me.

There is so much more than that though. There are so many emotions wrapped up in the whole situation and unless you've been through it, it's hard to understand. Impossible to understand. As much as I like to pretend it doesn't bother me and that it's not a big deal or joke about my barren womb, it sticks with you. It affects so much of your life in ways you can't even explain. Even if I were to have a child someday, those memories will never fade. That struggle will always stay with me as long as I live. And it sucks but it's a part of who I am. I just hope that in some way, somehow it made me stronger.

Cats On Cats On Rabbits

What I have failed to mention because I've been too busy writing about my sad life is I managed to obtain kitten number two a few weeks ago. We stopped by a gas station and this little black oil slick came walking up like it was no big deal. So of course I had to stop everything I was doing and catch the damn thing, walk it to the gas station, hold the kitten out in front of me and ask the cashier, "Does this belong to you?" Apparently it did not, hence me having acquired kitten number two that would be later known as Jax. Jax is an all black kitten, a week or two older than C.C. and when we first got him, a very mild mannered kitten. He was quite relaxed until C.C. decided he was a new play thing at which point he turned into a banshee. Whenever C.C. would try to play, Jax would serenade us with his best "Help me, I'm being murdered by a poltergeist" yowls. After about three weeks of getting bully beatdown by the orange fury, Jax finally learned how to stand up for himself and start fighting back, sans yowling. Thinking this was a good thing, the playful kittens got a lot of laughter and awwws. They still play will each other but only more...demonically, which has resulted in both of them needing special ointment because they love to kangaroo gouge each others eyes out with litter box feet, resulting in them each having a case of pink/gouge eye. Like idiots.

I could deal with the yowling, I could deal with the mortal kombat style fighting but they have now decided that everything in the house is fair game. The sweet little kitten purrs the once filled the night has now been replaced with mystery banging and crashing. They have basically turned the entire house into their personal American Gladiator arena/parkour course. They also enjoy murder attempts by running underneath your feet while you walk anywhere.

I don't just blame the kittens. Magnus the house bunny recently decided that me bring two kittens into the house makes me literally Hitler and he shows his disapproval by headbutting everything the fat ball of fluff can come in contact with, including said kittens. The kittens then retaliate by scaling the rabbit cage or laying just on the outside of it while they bop him on the nose. Then since I am truly the one at fault here, Magnus goes into my studio office and chews any and all documents that he can get to. Which considering he is a slightly....ok maybe more than slightly... overweight fluffy basketball, he does an incredible job getting to said documents.

So yeah, my house is basically just a bunch of half-feral animals running rampant while I cry in the corner. This is the life I chose.

Rev Rach and the Exorcism

It was the evening of December 2nd, 2008 I decided to become an ordained minister. Via the internet, of course. And it was the evening of May 26th, 2012 I became Rev Rach.

Though I had been ordained for approximately 3 years, 5 months and 24 days and performed one legal marriage ceremony in that time, it wasn't until 5-26-2012 that I fully became who is and will always be known as Rev Rach. I assume I'm not the first person who has had their moment of clarity after the fact, there are probably men and women all over the world who become people of God and not until years later stumble upon a revelation of their true calling. Like maybe monks and nuns? Unlike them, I'm not particularly religious, hell I can barely spell the word, but I do believe that others believe that there is something grander in the universe than ourselves. Does this mean there is someone in the great beyond calling the shots? No, at least I don't think so. But then how do you explain the collaboration of Lady Gaga and Beyonce in "Telephone"? That's right YOU CAN'T just like I can't say if there is or is not a higher power

Regardless of which power does what, where...the important think is that on the 26th day of May in the year of two thousand and twelveith, Rev Rach was born. Like a phoenix rises from the ashes, all the glory that be personified into a wondrous spectacle of a southern baptist preacher at one of those old timey revivals.

It all happened on a warm spring night at my friend's bachelorette party. After a passion party of vibrators and lube being passed around, some light snacking, drinks and a hot, sweaty bus ride the bride was not feeling to hot. So there I was, at an impasse. Do I let my friend die on the curb from heat exhaustion or do I do something about it? I took in my surroundings, fair maidens were already coddling the poor bride to be with water and cool paper towels, the steeple of a church loomed over us as we asked, "What can we do?!" Deep inside me, I searched for a reason. Any reason to not have to go home for I was only a little wasted and wanted to be a lot wasted. "Back the fuck up..." I said to the beautiful gaggle of gals, "I got this..." With a mighty deep breath and closed eyes I called to the Heavens, "Jesus!!! JE--SUS! Our Savior, Lord Almighty I ask upon you to release this child from these demons that have taken over her soul. TAKE THESE DEMONS AND PULL THEM FROM THIS CHILD. BREATH YOUR SWEET HEAVENLY BREATH INTO HER AND REVIVE HER WITH THE HOLY SPIRIT! LORD OH LORD. LET US FEEL YOUR POWER AND HEEEAALLL THIS POOR SOUL..." With that, my body was taken by the Holy Spirit and I was a crucible of healing. I danced, I shouted, I sang the song of truth for Jesus is a biscuit, LET HIM SOP YOU UP.

By the end of it, my girl was completely better and Rev Rach had solidified a place in the hearts of many, including my own. So whenever you are feeling down and feel the need to cast those demons from your soul, ask yourself a simple question: Have you exorcised today?

Milestones Giveaway!!

Over 10,500 HITS! Holy shit guys, this is mind blowing. Sure some of them were from the creepy Russian in his tundra shack but still! My blog has been clicked over 10,000 times! Even if you minus the spam sites, talking to you vampirestats.com, I'm still over 10,000 hits so that is seriously awesome!

To celebrate this good feeling, I've decided to have a giveaway. I'll be giving away two mugs. One is very similar to one of my favorite coffee cups, that I recently accidentally dropped and busted the handle off but still use because I am dangerous as hellllll. The other will be a custom made coffee mug featuring the Life with Lavenders logo or some shit plus a surprise picture! I have no idea how to do this giveaway thing so I guess comment below to be entered or get on Facebook, like the Life With Lavenders page if you haven't already and then share the page with your friends. Then maybe comment on the Facebook post that you did it, so I get notified. Like I said, no idea what I'm doing. And I know, its a lot of work but for fuck's sake, you could get a free coffee/vodka mug. Everyone loves free shit.

Mug #1

Stolen from Amazon.com. Sorry bout it.

Mug #2

So yeah! I'm super excited about this! I'll actually try to not procrastinate and get these shipped/delivered to their rightful winners in a decent time frame as well. My promise to you. Anyways to give people plenty of time I will post this tonight Monday, August 29th and will give people until sayyyyy...September 6th to do the damn thing.

Yay! Prizes!

Livin' On The Edge

One thing that really sucks about being vulnerable to ones emotions is that in many cases you're always mentally preparing yourself for the worst case scenario. Not every day, what if I spill on my shirt at work, type stuff but anything to do with interpersonal relationships makes me incredibly anxious. So as an attempt to soften the blow for when something bad does occur, I like to live my life just this side of miserable and paranoid. Let me tell you how well this works out for me, not at all. I worry so much about what could happen that I honestly think I bring this shit on myself. I get so caught up in not feeling like I can trust anyone, so convinced that if I open up they are going to hurt me so badly, I refuse to let myself live in the sunshine for any amount of time. I am a mole person, living in the depths of my own self-deprecation, pale and naked and alone. But also poetic as shit.

As much as I try to live with a "It is what it is" attitude, it seems like when it comes to close relationships, which here I am encompassing all types of relationships by the way (family, friends and the other), I fucking fail hard. I'm honestly always looking for the edge of the cliff, the moment my world will come crashing down. Now if I was anyone else telling me this I would say to them, "Hey you pretty little thing, guess what? Even if your significant other cheats on you, even if you stop being besties with your closest friend, even if you have a falling out and never talk to your sister again, shit is going to be ok. That cliff you think you are standing on, isn't a 1000 ft drop, it's only about 3 feet. Yeah, you might fall off it and you might get a couple scratches but after you take a minute to catch your breath, your ass is going to stand back up and you're going to keep going. And you're going to heal. It might takes some time but you will heal. Being afraid all the time isn't any way to live. You have to take those chances, whether it be opening up to someone, or loving someone or trusting someone, you have to take those risks. Don't worry, you are strong and you can do this."

See?! Great advice. But when I talk to myself I say, "Hey sad panda... I know you feel like you need to worry all the time but I'm here to tell you....it's much, MUCH worse than we first thought. Turns out you are not that great and people are going to figure it out. Man, you better hold on to whatever you have with a tight grip. You need to lock it down but make sure they care about you. Be sure to ask a million times. And don't be afraid to be jealous, that's how you show that you care. Oh shit! Was that a text message?! Ask who it was! Quick! WAIT! Better yet, don't ask who it was, just pout about it. If they don't tell you, it's safe to assume they are cheating on you. Wait for them to go to the bathroom, then check their phone. Remember, you are not that great, they could totally do better and will just as soon as they realize what a dumpster fire you are. Also you're getting fat and aliens are real."

Thanks crazy brain! I suuuuper appreciate all your help. You are always there when I need you, ready to talk me off the ledge.

Transparency

I love getting compliments on my writing. That may make me sound conceited but it's true. They are some of the only compliments I can truly take will full gratitude and believe them. All the other things like, you are beautiful or you look pretty today, are a lot harder for me to heard because, well, low self esteem. But writing is something I've always loved and I do believe that I excel at it. Though I appreciate and am overjoyed by anyone's compliments, those from fellow writers basically make me brain-gasam because I assume they know what they are taking about. I never studied English or writing in a serious manner, I just type or pen my thoughts so props from people who are professionals at the craft are amazing to me.

I had a fellow writer comment the other day that I write "so openly" which I replied, "To a fault". The reason I say this is because my open style of writing does come with some backlash. Putting yourself completely out there as I do doesn't come easy. Not only do you have to get past that personal hurdle of feeling like you are oversharing but people have used what I've written against me, several times. Mostly from family who say, "I can't believe you just put that out there for everyone to read. Why?!" Well, because I understand that others can relate to me and my situations. And if they can't relate, it hopefully brings them some kind of feeling. Whether it's anger, sadness, joy, laughter, for lack of a better word, I am willing to sacrifice my privacy for the feelings of others. I also have to worry about my job. I would hope that nothing I write would negatively impact my position but there is always that fear. Even if I couldn't get fired, if some of the public I work with read my blog, they would have a much different view of me than what they see when they come in for programming or to check out books. Especially after the last few bat shit crazy posts I blogged. Just to reassure all you who have to come in contact with me, all my shit, does not affect my work life. I strictly forbid it to.

Being transparent comes with a cost. It makes you very vulnerable to the world in a deeply personal way. Your feelings and thoughts will be brought up during a fight, you will unintentionally hurt people's feelings, you may portray yourself in an unflattering way. There are so many reasons not to do what I do but I will never stop because it gives me life. It gives me purpose. It helps me get through the rough stuff. By typing it all out, I'm giving a big middle figure to my problems and saying, "You know what, screw you. I'm not going to let you consume me. I'm going to take you out of my brain and put you somewhere where I can see you and just see you for what you are."

Writing is my therapy and I'll be damned if I'll let some adverse responses take away something so important in my life. That being said, if you've got a question about something I've written, ask me about it. If you don't like the answer, tough shit. This life is my story, I'll write it however the fuck I want. (Sorry for swearing in my blog, Mom. I know you hate it.)

What's With The Cutting?

The number one question I get, besides "Are you ok? You look like shit..." is "What's with the cutting?" I know, unless you've been there it's a super hard things to wrap your brain around. There are a lot of questions people have. Why do you do it? Are you trying to kill yourself? Why would someone purposely hurt themselves? What do you get from it? What about the scars? Why would you ruin your body like that? Doesn't it hurt? I don't understand, why?!

Well, I can't speak for everyone but I can give you some insight into why I do the things I do. So let's do the damn thing, shall we?

Are you trying to kill yourself?
No, I'm not. I think cutting and bleeding out is not a good way to end it all and because it does not hold that significance to me, I would not choose that route. Yeah, that whole sentence is kind of fucked up. Unless you're brand new here, you should know by now it's par for the course.
 
Why do you do it? Why would someone purposely hurt themselves? What do you get from it?
Like I talked about here, I have a disorder that likes to fuck with my life. Long story short, my brain feels emotions much more intensely than a regular brain. So much so, that when these emotions kick in it's very overwhelming to me. Some studies I have looked into say it has to do with abnormalities in the amygdala and the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex areas of the brain, density and what have you, therefore completely fucking with how people with BPD process emotion. Which is why very unfortunately, this disorder can't be treated with any medication, only the triggers can, the anxiety, depression, that jazz. So what does it all mean? It means once I get triggered, it is extremely hard for me to calm myself down, which affects my thinking. It feels like the most angry or sad you've ever been times 100. Like my heart is going to burst, there is so much adrenaline, followed by confusion and an internal battle of what the fuck to do. The rational part of my brain fights with the crazy part and it really is exhausting as shit.And all this can happen over something little, like a break up or if I'm particularly emotionally vulnerable that day, an disagreement on the pronunciation of a word. It also takes my brain much longer to calm down than a normal brain, just peachy.

So why cutting? Because when I was younger, I somehow discovered that I could reduce the overwhelming inner hurt by replacing it with physical pain when these episodes happened. So pretty much when I get to the point of pacing back and forth, feeling like I'm going to literally explode, I try to replace that feeling with pain, that compared to the emotions, doesn't last long at all. It also takes concentration, I have to focus on something other than the emotion and the situation. Starting to get it yet?

Doesn't it hurt?
Well...yeah. Or course it hurts, haven't you ever accidentally cut yourself before? It hurts a lot, usually for several days after as well. Unfortunately, that's the whole point so....

What about the scars? Why would you ruin your body like that?
I can't say there aren't scars. I have scars. Mostly on my thighs but some on my wrists and a couple on my upper arm. Any of the visible scars were done impulsively, the others were more planned out. Sometimes I would hurt for hours and hours before finally being able to self sooth. I am lucky that my scars are not bad, I have seen a lot worse. Yes, I've had people noticed them. Yes, I usually would lie about what happened. I still do sometimes.

So how are you?
I'm actually doing a lot better. I haven't been using cutting as a coping mechanism lately. When I have, it's brief and very superficial. I've been able to recognize when I am getting weird or on the verge of a breakdown and ask for help, I was able to get through an episode the other night while in a room full of people without having to leave which is a pretty big deal. I still have bad days and I still have times when my day is completely screwed because my emotions are so high.

What would you say to someone who self harms or is thinking of doing it?
Well there are a lot of reasons why someone decides to self harm but in every case I would tell them don't. It's not healthy and it doesn't even work. Whether it's cutting, burning, picking, whatever, it's a temporary fix that doesn't last and doesn't make the problem go away. If you ever want to feel peace, if you are sick of feeling overwhelmed and sick of hurting, you have to take steps towards recovery and the first step is to stop hurting yourself. You are hurting enough, you don't need to do it any more. Write, paint, run, scream, just stop hurting yourself. It's going to be hard and it's going to take time. There are going to be relapses but keep trying. You are worth it, even if you don't feel that way sometimes, listen to me when I say, YOU ARE WORTH IT.