Tag Archives: feelings


I overflow a lot.

In the form of tears. Words. Gasping sobs. Sometimes quiet woe. Often energy that has me flying around like a whirling dervish. Sometimes with feelings that I can’t find the words to express without rambling.

As I described before, it’s like this feeling in my chest gets too big for me. Too wild. Too strong. I can’t contain it anymore. Cue spillage.  I mean, we make fun of this one birth video because the woman says she, “Could feel the love bursting forth from her womb” when she looked at her husband while in labor. (In 26 births, I have yet to see love bursting from anyone’s womb.)

But lately? It’s kind of like that.

Andrew and I have been together for almost ten years now. TEN. I met him when he was *cough* a teenager *cough*. We’ve been together since before he could legally drink.  I’ve watched him grow up and I have become a completely different person who is no longer running, but deeply intent on staying put.  With his departure rapidly approaching, I can’t help but look over the years past. Where we’ve been, what we’ve done, how far we’ve dome.  I think that’s inevitable.

Amidst the sadness, the fear, the worry and all of those “I’m going to miss you!” feelings, there is also this intense sense of pride and this huge…swelling in my chest that I can’t contain. It’s built up of love, pride and just emotion. I started really feeling it when I sat at his MA Thesis defense a couple months ago.  He rolled his eyes when I told him I teared up, but I DID! He was so casual, so non-chalantly speaking on topics that the average person would have no idea about. He spoke about linguistic analysis, he spoke about the habits of serial killers’ language, he spoke easily about cognitive load and speculation for further study. He had an intense panel that included the world’s top profiler, one of the world’s leading experts in deception detection and one of about 50, licensed forensic evaluators in the country.  It was so impressive and yet they all conversed with ease. They threw him tough questions that he didn’t bat an eleash at returning. He spoke so eloquently with such knowledge and poise – I just couldn’t help but tear up.  I mean, I always knew he was smart but this? This was different.

When I think about him leaving, it feels like there’s this gaping hole in my chest. Like part of me is being torn out without consent.  And yes, while I’ll miss the sweetness of him making coffee for me in the morning or packing my lunch, and the help that he gives me while I work three jobs – mostly? I’ll just miss being around him.  I’ll miss hearing him jabber on about this criminal or this case – things normally I just roll my eyes at (while secretly swooning).  I’ll miss hearing about his work int he FBI lab, or him joking about how the tri-state area is safe from eco-terrorists for the day. (He’s been involved in a research project and he’s been interrogating fake terrorists.)  I’ll miss his brain. His heart. His drive.  Yes, I’ll still see him or hear his voice via skype and phone, but it won’t be the same.

In the last year or so, I’ve just been so overcome by how far WE have come together.  I’ve gone from not having an idea of where I wanted to be, from being a housewife (that sucked at housewifey things), from being depressed and aimless, from fearing another birthday, to a woman who has direction. A woman who has supported over 26 families through pregnancy and childbirth. A woman who has begun teaching countless more through childbirth education. A woman who burns passionately for women and babies. For their rights. Their choice. Their births.  I’ve become firey once again, and while with that comes the emotion, I’m realizing slowly that in order to be the best doula (and hopeful midwife) I can be, I need to be able to be vulnerable and tap into those feelings.

He has gone from front line security and law enforcement applicant, to having alphabet soup after his name. To having three documents working on publication. To having results that may potentially affect his field in a major way.  He has become so confident. So strong. His brain is so well fed and growing. He has a job that is begging for him to start sooner and two advisors all but begging him to come back to complete his PhD. He’s gone from having one job prospect to seeing the world open up before him with opportunities, including private enterprise.  I just am in awe.

Together, we’ve weathered such storms that many marriages and relationships never have to weather. We’ve grown individually and it has made us so strong together.  Sure, we fight. Oh, boy, do we FIGHT.  But in the end, we are together. We’re better, together, and I feel like we both really know that now. We might not have before, when we were idealistic young people, but now? We know it.

I am just overflowing with all the feels, but there are some pretty big, wonderful ones in the mix.

If I’m Honest

I am having a very difficult time.

If I’m honest,  I am so tired of telling you all that I’m struggling. I’m so tired of crying, sobbing and weeping. I’m tired of feeling like I am attention seeking, by crying and whining. I know that I am just hurting, not seeking attention, but the negative voices in my head tell me to shut up. To delete those tweets. That better people would be grateful for what they DO have. The negative voices are so mean, hurtful and abusive but when you’re at your weakest, they are the loudest ones you can hear.

If I’m honest, I’m just…tired. I want to reach out but I don’t know what to say. When I do find the strength to reach for someone, I am overcome with guilt for bothering someone, putting all of my weight on them, burdening them. Then, I am heavier and try to backpedal out without hurting them. Then I cry alone, so wishing I couod be held, hugged and loved. Screwed up, I know.

If I’m honest, I feel weak for being so sensitive. So touchy. I imagine readers cringing and thinking how annoying I am. I hate this sensitivity sometimes. I know that it isn’t JUST sensitivity, but that coupled with depression and all that I am dealing with makes it worse. I KNOW that I won’t always be so tender. So sensitive to the touch. I know that it is a product of everything at once. Just…it’s hard.

If I am honest, I asked a friend last night, what I did in this life to deserve such pain and suffering. Writing it out makes me feel so overdramatic but it is how I feel. I love people. I care SO deeply about everyone. I do. I worry about people, I try to help, to touch lives that I can. My outstretched concern is genuine. When I say I am thinking of you, I truly, honestly am. My heart is bursting with love and worry and feelings for the world. Truly, the world.

If I’m honest, I dreaded sleep last night, knowing another day would come. Another day that I would have to deal with. I was scared to sleep, because I was scared to wake up and face things all again.

If I’m honest, waking up was hard. I woke up ready to burst into tears, not wanting to have to deal with another day. As I sit here,  I am headachey with swollen eyes and I am tired. So, so tired. I just want to hide from the world and pretend I don’t exist today. I don’t want to talk to family. I just want to curl up and wait for the day to pass.

If I’m honest, I am so sorry. I’m sorry to whine and complain. I’m sorry to be so heavy lately. I’m sorry if your eyes roll and you stop reading. I’m sorry I can’t seem to cope better, be better, do better.  I’m just not sure where else to put my feelings.

If I’m honest, I’m so grateful for your support, love and concern. I do think so much of you all. I wonder how your children are, how your vacation was, how your illness is passing. I wonder what you had for dinner, how school or work is going and I wonder how you are doing. Just, how you’re feeling.

So, how are you feeling? What’s going on with you?

Friday Feelings

I have had company for four nights and three full days. My company has been lovely, low key, low maintenance and really a good time but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t absolutely LOVING the quiet of my apartment right now. I have been 100% alone for about four hours now, I have not uttered a single word but to the cat.  Blissful I tell you.

I know three days doesn’t seem like much (and I feel horribly guilty that I have so little staying power), but then again, the kids playing outside of the school next door might not be much to you either. A normal day for me involves a little bit of time, retreated into the bedroom with a game or a book. It sometimes has a long subway ride where I sit quietly by myself, or next to my husband, not talking. Reading. Just zoning out to myself.  For introverts and highly sensitive people a like, that quiet recharge time is SO important. It’s taken me a long time to learn this about myself, but I really do need a LITTLE alone time in my life. It helps me. It resets me. It allows me to take a breath and get back up and moving. Without it, I feel frazzled and exhausted. Yesterday morning, I was on the verge of tears because I just felt like I could NOT get up and sight see one more minute. I got up, we got food and it got better but it was touch and go for a little bit.  Add to all of that, that I live in less than 500 square feet and my friend slept on my couch in my livingroom. Add to that, that I am the only person who cooks. Who gets up and says, “Okay let’s go out!”. Who gets anything moving or makes plans.

Friends, I am toast. I really am and I am looking forward to emptying my DVR and barely leaving my apartment this weekend.


A very close friend of mine has been ill, on and off for years.  He was diagnosed with Celiac Disease a year or two ago and while avoiding gluten made him feel better, there were still things that did not clear up. I just found out today that they are waiting on blood test confirmation, but that he most likely has Lupus.  I feel so bad that I have not been around like I should have been for him.

He can’t talk about this with his wife as she is expecting any day now and has a whole host of her own issues due to her maternal size and so forth. I worry about how prepared they are. I worry about her health (or lack there of) and their baby being healthy. I worry that she now has to deliver in a completely different town because her BMI and size has made it so that no doctors want to deliver locally. That they need to go where there is a better NICU.

All of this I’ve been worried about too. Just, lots of worry for my friend, his wife and their baby waiting to be born.


My doula training starts two weeks from TODAY. I suddenly got a huge jolt of energy just thinking about it. Thinking about the fact that while a good chunk of my life is in chaos and is not perfect, I am taking ONE step just for me. Not for anyone else but for me. One step that will be the first of many to get where I want. At least one of the places I want to be.

I’m excited. I am hopeful. I just really want to be the support that women deserve. I want to share the love and care that I have in my heart.


I am going to get back into writing poetry. I wrote when I was younger quite a bit. I droned on and on about lost love when I was a teenager. I loved writing.  I rediscovered it a couple years ago and have since fallen out of practice.  I’m not one of those people that words just come to. It takes work. It takes writing down things every day even if they are just a phrase or two. Even if they never make it into a ‘proper’ poem.

I really loved being able to express myself in that manner and I would like to get back into it.  I think it’s a good part of my self discovery and this journey that I am on. This path.  I have a page where I share my poetry here. As I read over the past, I realize that they are some pretty violent and sometimes graphic images. Maybe even a bit emo, so, be kind please. They are snippets from moments in my life. Some of them.  Others are simple wordplay without a deeper meaning.

I hope you like what I have written of my past and what I will write of my future.


I think of a lot of people, often. People I’ve never met. People I have grown to love and cherish over time. People I’ve learned about by scouring their blogs, reveling in their honesty and the vulnerability in their words or perhaps their humor or way of being. I think so, so often.

I don’t think I speak up enough so I am going to try to do that. I’m going to send the emails waxing poetically about how amazing this person is when I think it.  I’m not going to worry about how odd it might sound, I’m just going to do it because I know what a difference a kind word can make.

So if you think no one is listening or watching. If you think no one is reading. Just trust me. I lurk a lot. I think a lot and I love a lot.  I’ll try to tell you more often that I saw something your child would love or that I am amazed that you are still standing. I’ll do my best to tell you that I thought of you this morning, and was proud you got out of bed or that I am proud of you for going to the Doctor.  I will work hard to tell you how SORRY I am that you’re going through so much, that you are so strong for taking care of everyone, that I see where you’re hurting even though you keep going and that I love you. I promise you that I will let you know the little things that I seem to censor day in and day out.

If you’re reading this – you’re lovely. I will try to tell you more often. I don’t want to miss my chance to let you know you’re loved and that you matter.


When Friends Hurt

There are always people hurting. Sometimes more, sometimes less. Sometimes they tell you, sometimes they don’t.  Sometimes it is physical, sometimes it’s emotional. Sometimes it’s obvious, but sometimes it is subtle, quiet and insidious.

No matter what it is, unfortunately, there is rarely anything you can do but love them and express that to them. They might not be in a place to actively hear it, but they will retain that. Even so, say it again. Over and over. 

You can tell them they are allowed to be weak and hurt, but that they are strong for just being there. You can help them let down if they need to and you can help hold them up if they need that too.

So often, none of that feels like enough. A friend spoke last night about FEELING the sadness of a neighbor’s house fire. Not just thinking, “oh that’s so sad.” and being able to go on with your night. I can so relate to that. I am grateful to every friend that expresses hurt or frustrstion. I want to hear it. It feels GOOD to recieve that little plea. Like…hey friend, I heard that. I’m here.

But I can’t stop there. I HURT on their behalf. I feel their ache. The darkness. I wouldn’t trade this gift or ever want anyone to stop sharing, but man. I feel it. I so often wish they knew how intensely I feel them. How genuinely I just really wish I could hug them, hold them and help. Even if we have never met.

The opposite is true also. I feel their joy and happiness. I feel their success and love. It’s a beautiful thing that makes me want to jump up and down with them, but the best I can often do is text, email, tweet or share my love and support in a comment. I hope they know how genuine my words truly are.

I’m so appreciative of those that share their love, support,  pain, hurt and their joy. It’s part of being vulnerable and I value that. Even if you can’t reach out and open up right now. Wherever you’re at, don’t you worry, I’ll protect that soft spot.

That’s what friends do.