A New Leaf

I decided to move Dizzy Diaries over to this platform because I know that if I open Blogger and see Dizzy Diaries (the blog that started it all) staring at me right in the face, I'll be more apt to updating it like a good writer should. I haven't updated Dizzy Diaries since I decided to leave my job this past Summer. That was one of the hardest decisions I have had to make. So many things have happened since then and I can't possibly relay them all at once. I've decided to break this down into different sets of blogs. This one is going to be the hardest one to write. I want to to share with you the emotional turmoil I went through this summer. One of the things I know I need to work on is sharing the emotional side of stroke recovery, chronic pain, and migraines.

A month ago if you had asked me how I was doing, I would have said I was fine. And I would have been lying through my teeth. From June through most of August I struggled with, what for me, was a pretty severe depression. I felt that I had lost everything and ended up right back where I never wanted to be. Stuck at home. I never wanted to be a housewife and a stay at home mom. I tried it and failed miserably. I am no good at being at home. I'm a terrible housekeeper, I'm impatient, and get anxious when I have to stay in one place for very long. All I ever wanted was a family and a career. I got my family and was working toward a career as I went back to school. But, I had to quit school because of my memory and concentration problems that were a result of my stroke in 2010. So I set about finding the career I always wanted. I did. I loved my job in assisted living. But my body hated. I started having seizures again. I had to make the decision to take care of myself. Unfortunately, that meant staying home again. And that broke my heart.

I spent so many days crying and whining and trying fruitlessly to find a way to change my situation instead of finding peace with it. Nothing was going to make me feel any better. Then came the news that I was no longer allowed to drive because I was experiencing periods of non-responsiveness (my seizures). Color me thrilled. Now, not only did I feel like I was being shoved into this pretty little prepackaged idea of "Happy Homemaker", now someone was trying to try to tie an apron around me and slap some heels on me. I can't even leave my house? Are you kidding me? May as well throw me a vacuum cleaner and a cute polka dot dress. I'm really more of a shorts and sneakers kind of girl.

By the end of July I blew up. The kids were arguing, the mother in law was butting in, the husband had started a new job, the house was a mess, I needed some things for dinner and I was miserable. I yelled some obscenities, stormed out the door and drove to the grocery store. And do you know what? The world went on.

When I got back, I made dinner and locked myself in my bedroom. I think even my husband was afraid to come in at first. I couldn't stop crying. My daughters had written me an apology note because they felt it was all their fault that mommy was going crazy. I still have that note. I think that note saved me. I could do this. I didn't want my kid's memories to be filled with this crazy woman who blew up and stormed out of the house. This woman who cried about everything and stared off into space. Who didn't take them to the pool or the park or play games or sing songs or danced or tickled them or smiled anymore. This woman who always yelled and never strayed far from the couch or the bed. Who was she? Certainly that's not me. Can't be me.

Change doesn't happen overnight. I wouldn't say that I'm even completely better yet. But I feel more like the Laura I knew. I get up every morning and talk to the kids while they get ready for school and we all walk to school together. I laugh more, smile more and yell less. Most days. I have a lot of doctor appointments right now trying to fix the physical things I can fix. I know that will go a long way to helping me heal. I am surrounded by people who love me and support me and forgive me more than I forgive myself. I know I can never repay them, but they know I love them. And I hope that'll do.