Part 14

So I got pregnant. I had high hopes about what my pregnancy experiences would be this time around. I'd had such a rough time physically when I was pregnant the first time, but I had also been so young and scared and unprepared. I had to work full time and ride around on a bike in the Charleston summer muck and didn't really have much of an immediate support system, and I also was soooo, soooo sick every day. I also hadn't had a fantastic kid to hang out with and to be a bright spot in my life.

The circumstances surrounding my second pregnancy were much different from the first. The second time around, I was already married, I was of a much more appropriate age to have a baby (though now it seems like it was still pretty young), I was surrounded by family and friends, I had a car, I had a husband I really liked being around, and I did not have to work outside of the home.

I thought that maybe since my circumstances were so much more positive, I would not be so sick this time.

I was wrong.

I'm not going to go into all of the details, but here is the bottom line: I am NOT a breeder. My mind and my body simply are not compatible with human reproduction. I am very grateful for my kids, but I don't think I could handle another pregnancy.

It wasn't just the physical sickness that was so difficult, it was the way my emotions just spiraled up and down and all over the place. I had a very difficult time interacting with people in a way I could believe was positive. It was lonely.

There was something very unique for me during that time, though. After I had Wes (the first baby) I had begun to take meds for ADHD again. My dad had insisted on it as a condition of my employment in his company. I had not stopped taking those meds in the years that followed - it did not occur to me that I should, or even could.

But when I got pregnant again, the meds stopped. And it was like I woke up. To life.

I began to have periods of time in which I enjoyed being around other people, such as my mom and neighbors and acquaintances.

I LAUGHED. The reason I put that word in all caps is because I had never laughed like that before - it was like a big laugh would just jump out of my mouth without my even realizing it was happening. I still laugh like that. It has taken some getting used to, and can be a little embarrassing at times, because it is just so spontaneous. And loud. My mom actually calls it a cackle.

I definitely cannot complain about my laugh. It feels really good, even if it catches me off guard, to have that kind of joy in my own body and mind.

So let me reiterate: I had a really hard time with my 2nd pregnancy, but I also gained a new sense of who I am - and I liked it. I have not resumed taking those ADHD meds, and I plan to never do so.

A big part of this is because of the way the meds made me feel, and another big part of it is that I don't have ADHD. It turns out that kids with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder exhibit similar behaviors to those typically associated with ADHD.

I don't remember if I had written about this before (anybody wanna be my editor?), but I will bring it up regardless. My mom has talked about how she knew something was wrong with me ever since I was really little. She described searching and searching for an answer to my behaviors and thought processes. When a teacher recommended I be tested for ADD when I was in the 5th grade, my mom felt a big sense of relief and poured herself into learning about the disorder and what she could do to help me cope.

I remember being tested for ADD, but I don't remember what the exact diagnosis may have been. I do know that I did not see a psychiatrist regarding any type of behavior-altering meds until I was 16 and went on Prozac for the first time. I just know that I started taking Ritalin in the 5th grade and began being very absorbed in my school work, or any other work I happened to be doing.

Anyway, before my 2nd pregnancy, I had been on some sort of medication that altered my mind and behaviors for over half of my life. I took Ritalin for years, and then insisted on stopping in high school, but began doing recreational drugs. Then I began doing Ritalin recreationally, which eventually led to meth. I did not do any type of drugs during my 1st pregnancy, but circumstances and whatever really exacerbated my depression, which was exacerbated by pregnancy hormone-type stuff to begin with.

There were also a lot of other factors affecting my mental and physical and emotional states during pregnancy that I would not even be aware of for years afterward. But that is getting ahead of myself a bit.

I have received at least two very substantial and positive gifts as a result of each of my pregnancies. From my 1st, I received a definite knowledge that I was worth something in this world, and of course, Wesley. From my second, I received a definite knowledge that I was - on some level - a human being who could have real and vivid positive feelings and experiences in a social environment, and of course, Jonah.

The significance of these gifts, as applied to my view of my self, is that I had never before really even been aware that I could have these beliefs about myself. It wasn't just that I did not believe I was worth something or that I could have positive relationships with others, it was that it had not even occurred to me that these were possibilities.

I had very literally accepted that I would just be a lonely and misunderstood person, that the relationships I had with Jonny and my kids were unique in that they were the closest I would ever get to just feeling comfortable around other human beings.

The discovery of this underlying personality consisting of distinctly positive human traits and feelings that I could actually feel were part of me, of my being, was very, very nice. It gave me a lot of hope, simply for my existence.

It amazes me the things human beings take for granted. The ability to live among other people and simply enjoy breathing in and out and being awake and having interactions that are not, at the very least a mind fuck, and at the very most devastating, is truly a gift.

I would like to point out that I had been able to have fun and experience joy and happiness and benefit from relationships - there are actually quite a few relationships I can think of right now that included a feeling of being loved.

However, I cannot think of any relationships in which I felt I was - just me, all by myself - capable of loving, just for who I am. I still have a difficult time accepting that people can just love me because I am me - I am constantly trying to figure out the benefits others may get from being around me in order to prove to myself that I am genuinely liked.

For most of my life - and even today - I struggle with the fundamental belief that my value as a person is contingent upon the level of shit I am willing to suffer at the hands of others. For example, with guys especially, what can I let them to do with my body - give them the right to have and control and manipulate - that will make it worth it for them to have anything to do with me.

It has just now occurred to me that I never really believed I had any genuine relationships with females. I mean, I do today, but there is a big difference between the befores and afters of remembering all of that horrendous shit that I may some day bring myself to share in this blog.

The process of my healing - of my living, really - began with the death of much of whom I believed myself to be. And that started, very definitively, three years ago. I'm 34 years old. That's 31 years of unrecognized and unaddressed self-loathing and fear and shame to contend with.

It's a lot. For today, though, I'm doing really good. So good, in fact, that I think I will stop writing for now and go enjoy me some coffee and pandora radio.