Piece by Piece

I feel very cliche by saying, 'It gets better' but it does.  I recently posted on instagram about how I was in a dark place...however I feel like that was not enough... it is on my heart to share exactly where I was.   I woke up on a Sunday morning and just felt bad.  I have had many mornings like this, I wake up, feel sad, I don't know why I'm feeling like this and I wallow and cry on and off all day.  On this Sunday I was feeling extremely depressed, all I wanted was to snuggle my baby, and all she wanted was 'dada'.  That was the tipping point for me on this particular morning.  The thoughts that proceeded to fill my brain were, 'You suck', 'You're a terrible mom', 'Nobody would notice or care if you were dead'.  I wanted to hurt myself so bad, I truly believed that I was so worthless that no one would notice if I was gone.  In that moment of loud negative voices I heard a little voice that told me to talk about it.  I needed to ...

Well, we did it.  Tuesday marked one year that Bean's been in daycare and one year back to work for me.  I didn't really make much of it but my friend high fives me (my favorite) and says, 'Way to go, that's huge!'  The more I thought about it the more I realized that it really was a big deal.  Being a mom is hard.  Being a stay at home mom is hard.  I can only speak to my experience as a working mom, and damn...it's been hard. Going back to work was something that I wanted to do but also something I had to do.  I felt as though I received some grief from people for going back but the truth is it's not the 90's and money doesn't hold that same value.  First day back I remember one of my fears of having Bean in daycare was that she would begin to think that her teacher was mom since she spent that much more time at school than at home.  I also remember that I didn't cry when I dropped her off on her first day, and for that I felt guil...

I've been feeling the need to write, but haven't had one solid thought.  I've been struggling lately with my depression and anxiety and some days it's really hard to get out of bed and get my shit together, but I do.  I push through and most days I feel accomplished that I did; other days not so much.  I often feel like that commercial where the person is holding up a stick with a smiley face to hide her real feelings.  You can be sure to find me with a smile and a fairly good attitude, and while I am a pretty happy person, much of that can be an act...  I've also been experiencing a lot of frustration in life and to be frank, I'm pissed off at so many things. I'm disappointed in myself.  I am often surrounded by gossip and people talking shit for no good reason.  Instead of choosing to walk away, I listen and sometimes I partake in the conversation.  You don't know what people are going through in their lives, so does talking negatively about...

She lives her life behind a mask. And in the off chance that someone asks, she replies, 'I'm good, I'm great, I'm fine.' They ask out of obligation, not because they care. The rest of the world around her is so distracting, it doesn't quite seem fair. Everyone's got their issues, and I've got mine too, but if you stopped to ask sincerely,  think of what you might hear? 'It seems that you are too preoccupied with someone who is getting high;  you don't seem to try to notice struggle right in front of your eyes.' 'I don't think you really care about my recovery...you're more concerned with what weight YOU think you should be.' You told her you don't want to ask her because you don't know what to say. Just tell her that you love her, and it will be okay. She lives each day with a check list of all the things she's done. It never even crosses her mind that she should be her number one. Putting...

One of the hardest things that I have struggled with in mommy-hood has been feeding my sweet Beanie girl.  Now, you may be thinking, well breast feeding IS hard.  I'm sure that is true from what I hear, but I did not ever breastfeed.  Go ahead and mommy shame me, I dare you.   Let me digress for a moment.  Before giving birth to Bean, I felt as though I HAD to breastfeed because that's what society makes you think is the right thing.  Now, for anyone who knows me, I am a rule follower and need to be liked, so naturally one would think that I would choose to breastfeed.  But in all honesty the thought of it made me uncomfortable.  I had heard about the struggles that it had caused for many new moms and knowing myself and my anxiety I didn't know if it was something I even wanted to attempt.  Luckily, I spoke to one of my best friends about this prior to giving birth.  She made me feel a million times better and made me feel like ...

Three years ago today, I took my first steps into a new life; a life in recovery.  Soon, Bean will take her first steps.  Just yesterday I was helping my little girl walk across our yard.  Not too long from now she will not need my hands to help her walk; she will be able to walk on her own.  She may initially be scared.  She will fall, she will get a few bumps and bruises along the way, and she may very well cry, but she will no doubt get back up and keep at it.  That sounds like a metaphor for life in general, and I can vouch that those exact things have happened to me over the past three years. Of course I could tell you what I was wearing as I stepped off of the plane into RDU airport, and damn I was a mix of emotions.  I was so excited to see Stefan again, and damn I was terrified.  What if he didn't like how I looked? What if I relapsed? What if I wasn't strong enough to make it?  The first question shouldn't even be a question becaus...

As I laid my head down on my pillow last night, I knew that I made it another day without anyone asking me what I ate.  To my eating disorder brain this is amazing.  I didn't have to tell anyone that I didn't eat, that I skipped most of my needed intake for the day.  The Tracy I've been slowly losing shouted from the depths of my body that something was wrong.  I closed my eyes and listened to the white noise of our air purifier, felt the softness of my sheets, and the rapid beating of my heart.  Another anxiety attack?  No, this was a different kind of racing, it was the racing I have felt before when my heart was doing too much work.  I literally thought, I could be having a heart attack.  I tossed and turned 90% of the night and when I did sleep, I dreamt of all the things I do wrong...all the imperfections I have; the imperfect person I am. For weeks now I have been walking a slippery slope in recovery.  My anxiety has increased, my att...