Now I need a place to hide away

Writing upon request is never easy for me.
But, There's a shadow hanging over me, and I try to please. 
This is especially a hard topic for me because it goes so far back, well before Yesterday. 
This is not really something I can write or elaborate on. I will write in short. 
It took me a while to notice the trend, and it was pointed out to me by someone external. What was pointed out to me was that my mother, when she gets upset with my father, tends to take it out on me. It took me a while to accept this, but the more it happened, the more I noticed it, and the harder it was to deny. I believe that it is not just my father that she takes out on me, but any time she is going through something that is very hard, I end up having a mother who is very mean to me. She does not do this to her other children. 
When I got married, and most of the engagement period, my mother was very angry with me, yelling at me a lot, and blaming me for things that were not related to me. I went through my wedding feeling completely cut off from my family, unwanted and unloved. Why? Because my grandmother past away while we were engaged. She took out her passing on me. I had to deal with my own mourning along with feeling like I lost a mother. All while I was planning a wedding completely alone. And anything that went wrong I was blamed for. I always am. 
When I was a teenager, my mother went to Israel to visit her parents. This was never something easy for her. Her father didn't make it any easier. He would tell her every time she left that this would be the last time they would see each other. I was still a child though. And I was going through a lot myself. I was in 1tth grade and had no friends. Everyone I thought was a friend decided they didn't want to be friends with me anymore and were not secretive about it. And the one friend I had was living in Israel for the year. I was feeling alone and dealing with all the hormones involved with being a teenager. My mother was away, and like most teenagers, I had procrastinated a school project. It was the night before it was due, and I was on the computer writing my report. My father, being my father, does not see other people, especially when he is stressed out. When he is stressed, he shuts down and stops seeing others even more than his normal self. The same night I was working on my report, my mother was on a plane coming back home. My father started stressing out because the house was a mess. He started yelling at me and telling me to get off the computer and help him. I explained the situation to him, but there is no one to talk to when he is like that. He started being very verbally abusive. Telling me what a horrible person I am, how no one likes me, and on and on, none stop. I locked myself in the bathroom to get away from it. He followed and continued to talk to me like that. I called Mimi, hysterical, telling her I don't know what to do, I want to kill myself. I had a blade in my hand and started hurting myself with it. I was desperate for help and he stood outside the bathroom and continued to barrage me with verbal abuse. The one saving grace I kept on telling myself was that my mother would be home in the morning and she will save me. She will hug me. She will tell me she loves me. She will protect me. 
And then she came home. 
She came home and started putting me down. Telling me what a horrible person I am. How ungrateful. And more. That. That was a breaking point for me. I was aware enough to know this was a breaking point only a few months later. But I could never tell her. This brought me into a deep and dark depression. This was the straw that made me feel like I was completely alone in the world. That there was not a person in the world that cared about me or loved me. That if anything I was a burden to people and why was I even there. That if I did not exist, everyone would be happier. 
These are the two events that I am brought back to every time something similar happens. And it happens often. Sometimes it is worse than others. 
This visit, it was pretty bad. My father is not easy, and he is getting harder. I am sympathetic to that and understand what she is going through at least to an extent. 
The thing is that we worked so hard to make everything perfect. We didn't sleep more than 3 hours a night for months. We took everyones needs into consideration trying to make everyone feel thought about and cared for and their needs met. 
But we did not prepare the shabbat after. Because we were on our last straw. Because not everything has to be on us. Because we also need to breathe sometimes. Because we also work and still need to be able to pay our bills and not get fired. Because as it was I felt so overwhelmed by work that I almost quit. Because of so many reasons. Because it was too much for us and I don't have to give excuses for them. But no one else really took responsibility for it. And my mother felt like it all fell on her. And my father yelled. Boy did he yell. So I had my mother telling me what a horrible person I am. In many more words than that. Because these words always take me back. Because I am currently dealing with a slight depression that I have not been able to put into words until writing them here and now. Because I feel all alone in the world. I feel like no one cares about me or sees me ever. I finally have a husband who works and can hold down a job. But he can no longer see me. I am alone. No one cares about me. No one loves me. No one sees me. Ever. Because this is always the place it takes me back to, especially when I am already struggling. 
And I am struggling. Struggling not to drown. But I struggle in silence. I still have to go to work and get my work done. I still have to be home and be stable enough for my kids not to notice. I still need to be there for my kids. I still need to deal with Azi. Azi who takes a bar of wood he sees on our brand new extremely expensive new living room unit, holds it in both hands and starts banging on the unit. Why? Because he felt an immediate need to nock. I still need to deal with Elisha who feels like everything surrounds Azi. Like no one cares about him. I still need to make sure that he gets the attention he needs and is given the love needed to make sure he never feels the same. I still need. But I am walking an extremely narrow thread. I am trying not to fall off. And for now I am blocking out the external wall and anything or anyone that might cause me to fall off. Because I might not be wanted or cared about or loved, but I am needed. And I need to make sure I am there for those who actually need me. Because I love them. 

Should I do it all?

I want to write a post in reaction to a post I saw in a FaceBook group. Taking steps before a pregnancy to prevent XYZ. I have 3 boys. The amount of people that have said to me that there are things I can do to raise the chances of having a girl. And my answer is always "if I have another child, I will not take steps to make sure they are a girl. I will do it normal and pray for healthy. The sex doesn't matter." Out of my 3 boys, 2 are on the spectrum. The youngest is not. My father is not diagnosed, but he is definitely on the spectrum. It is very clearly in my family and very clearly genetic. With my oldest I had GD that went undiagnosed until 40 weeks, so I ate plenty of sugar and this is a known environtmental push for someone with the "right" genes. This son is now 12 (almost 13) and he is amazing. He is extremely smart, responsible, and caring (some of the time...) and I wouldn't want him to be any different than he is. For my younger two kids I did not have GD and the older of the two of them is ASD. I made the decision almost a year ago that I might want another one, so I should start losing weight because the GD by me seems to be weight-related. I lost 10 kilos over 6 months. And then I stopped losing weight. Over Rosh Hashana I made the decision that I want another one. I definitley want another one. At the same time, it is still important for me to do things natural. And I will be happy with an ASD child, just like I am happy with the two boys I already have on the spectrum. And then comes in the question. Should I? Do I want to? Should I go to a geneticist? Should I go to all the Dr's in the world and take all the vitamins, lose all the weight, be perfectly healthy before I even try. And then what? If I put in way more effort than I did for my other kids and then this next one is on the spectrum as well. Will I be even more disappointed? That is my fear. If I take it like the other ones, it is what it is. But if I try really hard, then I am leading myself to disappointment. On the other hand, if I don't do everything I can, will I later be sorry and think how irresponsible it was. I will probably go now and make tons of appointments and take tons of blood tests and take tons of vitamins and who knows what else. But is it the right thing to do? I do not know. For now I am back to losing weight. And loving the wonderful kids I have. And crying, I always love crying.

Outside the Window

Outside the window it is dark outside. I am sitting on the couch, needing the bathroom so badly, but not willing to stand up and walk to the bathroom. Instead I sit on the couch and listen to podcasts. All day, all I ever want to do it listen to podcasts. I don't pray, I don't think, I just listen. 
Outside the window it is dark outside. I am sitting on the couch with the shade up on the garden sliding doors and I can see the lights all lit in the town across the valley. shimmering. And the lights of the cars driving on the road that separates them from us. 
My eyes hurt from staring at screens for so long. And yet outside it is beautiful and dark. I see the cars coming and going. Constantly coming and going. Sometimes I can hear the sirens as they rush to or from a person in need. I hear the sirens and my heart skips a beat. Every siren I hear my heart skips a beat. Maybe this is leftover trauma from the summer of sirens, where rockets were raining down instead of the summer rain I had as a child. Maybe this is leftover trauma from all the terror attacks that were which caused so many to no longer be. All I know is: I hear the sirens and my heart skips a beat. I try to not listen, to not hear. I try so hard. At work I hear the sirens coming all the time. Sirens coming and coming and coming. Never leaving. At work I hear the sirens driving by on the way to the hospital right up the road. 
At work. At work I do not see out the window. I only see out the Window of Microsoft. And I walk the hallway back and forth. Take a cold drink. Take a hot drink. Take a piss. Walk the hallway back and forth. I walk the hallway back and forth and say hello, laugh, talk. I am heard. I do not listen. Or I do. I wonder if people who are with me feel like they can talk when I am there. Will I listen to them? Will I make them feel heard? 
I walk the halls at work so that my butt does not go numb. I walk the halls at work so that my eyes do not go numb. I walk the halls until I can no longer walk the halls. I take my headphones and I go out for a walk. I see all the plants. I look. I listen to my stupid podcasts. I MUST listen to them. I MUST catch up on every single one or I might be missing out on something. I hear the voices in my head coming out of the machine sitting in the pocket of my not yet toned ass. I hear the voices in my head and I laugh. I don't cry. I don't always hear. I hear the voices in my head so that I don't have to hear my voice. I hear the voices in my head so that I don't have to think. Don't have to care. I hear the voices in my head and I don't hear me. 
I could walk the halls at home too, but then I would bump into dirty clothing strewn all over the floor. Dirty dishes strewn all over the counter. I could walk the halls at home too, but I would rather sit on the couch not looking out the beautiful window just listening to my stupid podcasts and staring at one screen or another. 
I have an addictive personality. I need to listen to the podcasts. I need to listen to EVERY SINGLE one. Maybe I should just delete them all from my phone and not have the stupid voices in my head. Not have the goddamn podcasts in my goddamn head. But I would rather sit on the couch listening to the podcasts then get up and clean the horrible smell in the bathrooms that return EVERY SINGLE time one of my beautiful boys go to pee. Rather than walk the hallways and hear the beautiful boys snoring loudly making sure to be heard at least in their sleep. At least I exercise so that I don't have to feel guilty for not leaving the house beyond going to see the plants in my garden. Beyond going to see the vegetables that are growing and that are not growing. Beyond going to clean the pavement outside of my beautiful garden doors so that I do not get upset every time I look outside. So that I do not see the mess left to accumulate by my beautiful boys and man. 
I sit on the couch and I listen to the silence. Maybe I should delete all my podcasts to hear more. Maybe I should delete my best friend so that I can have real best friends. So that I can hear my real friends and my real family. Maybe I should. But I probably won't.

Writing

When I want to, I love to write. When I want to, I can write a lot. When I want to, I can write beautifully. When I want to.
I need to write. I need to write a lot.
When I want to write I write a lot.
When I want to, I love a lot. When I want to, I love to love. When I want to, I love.
Sometimes we need to love when we don't want to.
How do we love, how do we give, how do we care, how do we write when we don't want to?
How do we write, how do we care, how do we share when we don't want?
How do we learn, how do we share, how to we write when we don't want?
How do we learn to want what we don't want? To want when we don't want?
How do we learn to share when we don't want? How do we learn to give? How do we learn to care?

I am sitting in the library. Day two of sitting in the library and pretending to write my thesis. How long will it take me to write if I manage to write about one measly paragraph a day? 100 years? I need to write! I don't want to write! I don't want to concentrate! I don't want to focus!
I would rather look for a job. I would rather take on short term projects with tight deadlines. I would rather check Facebook. I would rather check whats app. I would rather sit in my car waiting for parking. I would rather go out with my friends. I would rather pick up my children. I would rather do anything that is not sitting and writing my thesis. Oh my! Goodbye, I am going now to write what I don't want!

Hiccups

On my path there are hiccups. Little bumps that I never imagined I would need to deal with.
Little bumps, big bumps.
Learning to deal with people who are impossible to deal with, and learning to say good bye when there is no longer anyone worth dealing with.
Learning to love. To really love. To give. To try and want a little less. Learning that I did not know what love was even when I thought I could not love any more.
Learning to be a parent. Loving. Relearning to be a parent. And learning again.
Each child teaches me all over again what parenting means. What love means.
Each child comes with their own new hurdles that I need to learn to jump over.
ASD, ADD, PhD, everything and everyone gets a title nowadays.
Do we know to give the child what they need? More than we received? More than our parents received?
On my path there are hiccups. Little bumps that I never imagined I would need to deal with.
These bumps are what make my path.
They give meaning.
They give life.

Return to myself

Life is busy.
Life is always busy, even when there is not much going on.
We are dealing with developmental issues with a child, planning a family vacation, building a house, trying to finish up my degree and figure out what my next stage in occupation is, parenting, cleaning, pretending to pack up our apartment, watching silly TV shows, cooking, listening to podcasts, folding laundry, washing dishes, spending time with my spouse.
Life is busy. Life is good.
Busy should never be an excuse not to write.
Writing to me is the best kind of therapy. It always has been. I enjoy writing. The fact that I enjoy writing is somehow a new revelation to me. How have I not noticed this before? How have I not pushed myself to write more before now?
Life is busy. I am happy. I want to express that happiness with all the stresses that come along with it. In my path to wholeness I need to return to myself. I need to return to my writing. Writing for no purpose other than to express myself.
In my path to wholeness here I am returning to myself.

Transformation Medicine

Morning after.

Surprisingly, writing I am good enough was good for me :)
I can try to continue to do this, although it is doubtful that I will do that online. I need to start an I am good enough journal :)

Today.

Today I listened to an amazing episode of a podcast that I am obsessed with. The podcast is called "On Being" by Krista Tippet and the podcast that I listened to today was about transformation medicine/functional medicine with Mark Hyman (he works in functional medicine - I think he coined the term, but I am not sure. He is a physician), James Gordon (a psychiatrist), and Penny George (introduced as a philanthropist).
There were some really amazing ideas brought forward, and I would like to look a little more into these people and their ideas. In summary, they are putting forward the idea that we need to change the way we look at medicine, that medicine needs to change from looking at each part separately to looking at the whole system, not only the separate systems on their own, and in so doing, live on our path to wholeness.
There was great advice and interesting ideas put forth by the speakers that I would like to share here.

Advice - otherwise known as: Practices of Self Care:

• Shaking and dancing - I already tried this with music that I will recommend towards the end, and I must say it really changed my mood!
• Soft belly breathing - in short, sit comfortably, close your eyes, Allow your breathing to deepen. Breath in through your nose and out through your mouth, with your belly soft and relaxed. Experience it. Feel yourself relaxing with each exhalation. You can choose two words to say or focus on, one for when you breath in and one for when you breath out. 
• The claim: This helps to activate the vagus nerve and is a great antidote to the stress response. 
• Use food as medicine. Food is not just energy, it is information. You change your gene expression, immune system, microbiom with every bite. 
• This is something that I know, but I need to learn more about. I need to learn what to eat and when. 
• One of the questions that was asked was "how do we change our behaviors towards eating". This is a question that I really need to learn to answer for myself!
• The community is medicine. It is important to have a community. Surround yourself with other people!
• Learn spiritual wellness and spiritual healing - for this, the most important thing is how we treat each other - caring for others. 
• Meditate.

Ideas shared that I find important to reiterate:

• "The work of healing is the work of transformation"
• "The sense of meaning, purpose, and connection are important for the path of healing."
• Love. Love is the center of all religions.
• Spiritual life - that place where we work on ourselves. Open ourselves up for looking for the truth. 
• Change your diet, change your health, and you will see transformations in mental health. 
• Meditation is an important part of finding your whole. 
• Having a purpose for living is important for our health.
• A question we should always ask ourselves when we are sick: What is the invitation in this illness? What is the invitation in this illness to a fuller life? 

Recommendations by the speakers that I would like to look into:

Movie (documentary): Fed Up

Book: Madness in Civilization

And last but not least, the music I listened to while writing this is by Prins Thomas and can be found at https://youtu.be/sb-KR9gArXk.

I just learned about his music today. I heard his song 'b' and just had to start moving my body and dancing. It was an amazing experience!

Oh, and I am good enough because I can move.

I am good enough because I care.

I am good enough because I love.

I am good enough because I want to grow.

I am good enough because I believe I can. 

I am good enough because I am.