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As I sit here with tears streaming down my face I’m reminded of how much relationships suck. Why do people allow themselves to go through pain and heartache for another person. Why do people put all of their trust in to someone who is only going to hurt them in the end. And why does that person who does the hurting always have to be me. 

I’m a horrible person. I reek havoc on things that shouldn’t be a big deal. I explode letting everything burst out of me at the most inconvenient times. I destroy the things that are suppose to be built to last. Basically I’m an inferno in a dry wood. I will turn everything I touch to ash. 

So why do people still love me? Why do people still trust me? Why do people still want me? I’m worthless. 

But no matter how hard I try I can’t change. I’m stuck in this never ending cycle. There is something so wrong in my head something I can’t stop, can’t change, can’t step away from. It doesn’t matter what I do or say to myself, it’s inevitable. Eventually I’ll ruin it because I tried to ignore it, tried to change it. 

And some day all of this is going to catch up to me and my world will come crashing down into a million pieces. And it’ll all be my fault. And despite the fact it’ll suck it’ll hurt, it’l basically kill me- I’ll have deserved it. 

What is a friend

I have a complicated view on friendship. I see so many people in my life with these friends they’re so close with, they get together and drink wine and just talk. Or they call each other up to catch up. Or they go out shopping, for lunch, always laughing and taking pictures and just having a good time. 

For me, I always feel a little bit awkward when I get together with friends. I feel like I don’t belong. Like I don’t know what to say. And I wish it came easier, like it did when I was younger. The laugher, joy, simple-ness of friendship. 

I see friendships like my sisters, where they get together often, and just sit around talking easily. She’s got friends from 10, 15, even 20 years ago that she still talks to, laughs with, and loves like it was the day they met. They have thousands of memories together, and even though they may live apart, they’re still as close as if they were neighbours. 

I see my coworker with her friends, going out for drinks or to the movies on a Tuesday night. Hardly taking pictures but still having stories to tell, stories that make is obvious they’re close. They go on vacation together, or rent a cottage. Anything to spend a bit of time together. 

Then there are the friends I see who leave random messages on Facebook wall, send memes, or funny videos. Simple comments to say “this reminds me of you. I miss you”. 

There are my internet friends who have inside jokes among each other, who clearly talk to each other outside of our group chat. Who laugh, and joke, and seem to get along so much better than I do with them. 

And I see all of this and compare my friendships to theirs and I question... do I even have any friends? Do I have someone to call up at 2am when I’m feeling lost or lonely? No. Do I have someone to go to movies with when I’m feeling bored, and I need a break? No. Do I have someone to go to concerts with? Take trips with? Even drink wine with? No. I don’t (let’s just ignore the fact I don’t drink wine, okay?). 

Sure, there are those who I speak to, I try to give advice to. I get together with the few times a year we can. 

But when I look at friendship collectively, and analyze what it means to me... I have a hard time calling anyone my friend. Maybe it’s a personal issue with myself. Maybe I cant trust myself enough. Maybe I don’t think I’m good enough to be anyone’s friend, and that’s why I don’t see myself with any friends. Maybe it’s my anxiety. Maybe it’s the fact I prefer to be alone. I don’t open up to people or talk about my problems.  

I’m a very lonely person. I’m a very private person. I feel like what I have to say doesn’t matter, so I don’t say nothing at all. I feel annoying when I discuss my problems because my problems don’t matter much. I feel embarrassed for wanting to discuss myself because nobody really cares about what I have to say, do they? 

But at the same time I wish I had that one friend I could call a best friend. That one person, at least one person anyway, who really cares about what was going on with me. Who really wanted to be with me, see me, spend time with me. One person who texted me out of the blue to ask me how I’m doing, or to catch a bite to eat, or even just to come over for an hour just to hang out. A person I can look back on and laugh at our memories, reminisce about the good time, sing songs from the past. A person who accepts me for who I am and calls me out when I’m acting like a bitch. A person I can get angry at, and forgive within seconds, because petty fights aren’t worth losing our friendship over. A friend I’d call godmother to my daughter. A friend we’d play board games with on a Friday night, while ordering pizza. 

A face does come to mind when I think of someone like this, but that face is my sister. And while I love our relationship and how close we are, in the end she’s my sister. Not that that means she can’t be my best friend but it’s not the same, as having someone else come into your life, someone you meet because of your shared interests, someone who decides they want you in their life just as much as you want them in yours. 

But I doubt it’ll ever happen. I’m a horrible judge of character. And people judge me way too fast, too. 

So I’ll go back to accepting that I’ll never have that sort of friendship. After all, how will I ever meet someone to fill such a spot in my life? I’m 28. I don’t go out. And I’m terrified to people. Doesn’t leave much room for a best friend, now, does it? 

Deprivation of the worst kind

I haven't been feeling like myself lately. In fact, if I'm honest with myself, I've been feeling kinda sad. Lonely. Insecure. On edge. Paranoid. Unwanted. Unsexy. Unloved. 

Broken. That's the word. I've been feeling broken lately. 

You see, my husband and I haven't always had the most intimate and passionate relationship. We love each other, of course, but lately I've been feeling disconnected from him. And I think a lot has to do with the lack of intimacy between us. 

We don't have sex. Like ever. Before I was pregnant with our daughter we had sex about once a month, and as much as I hated it because I wish we had it more, I now sort of miss that. Because now I'm lucky if we have it once every six months. 

While I was pregnant with my daughter he was afraid to touch me. We tried having sex once when I was a few months pregnant but he got freaked out a little because there was a baby inside of me and therefore he shouldn't be. And then after we had her I had to recover, and then time just sort of got away from us. The first few months are so difficult that you don't realize how fast time goes by. My daughter was born April 27 2016, and the first time we had sex after her birth? November 1 2016... about a year  after we tried to have sex while I was pregnant and 3 months after the last time we had actually had sex, which was when I conceived our daughter. You want to know the next time we slept together? June 25 2017. And then again July 6 2017, and I thought that was a good thing. Things were looking up. We'd got that passion back, that connection. He wants me again. But I was wrong. Because today is February 27 2018 and that day was the last time we had sex. 7 months ago. I know this because I keep track of it on a fertility app that I use to track my period. 

I often wonder if he still finds me attractive. I often wonder if he still wants me. I know he loves me, but is he still in love with me? My naked body doesn't seem to do much for him these days. And, funny enough, the few times he's feeling "frisky" enough to want to do anything, guess what? I'm on my period. It's like he has an internal clock keeping track of things subconsciously because I wasn't even going to say anything to him last month, just to see what would happen. And the first day of my period you know what he tried to do? Touch my boobs to start things. I just sighed, pushed his hands away, and rolled over saying he was "out of luck" while secretly wanting to cry myself to sleep. Because he always only seems to want me when he can't have me. 

I love my husband. I really do. But I feel like something is missing between us. But I don't think he feels any of it. He claims he doesn't have a drive, but will jerk off because it's "easier" and requires less energy, because he's so tired after working 2 jobs. Which makes me feel like I'm not worth the effort. Yes sex isn't everything in a marriage/relationship but it is something. It's something important. You have to keep the other person feeling wanted. Needed. Loved. It helps keep the passion alive. Keeps that intimacy flowing. 

But not everybody sees it that way. And what hurts the most? As soon as I put our daughter to sleep l, hoping we may just get some alone time, he goes and disappears into the basement to watch a movie or TV show. He doesn't even think of the fact that I may want a bit of alone time with him to try and get things started. And then he asks me why I don't want to go down to the basement with him. But what good would it do? I hate that room. I really honestly do. I despise it. I never wanted it to be a hide away, a "man cave". I wanted a play room for our daughter. A large space for her to roam. But he got his way. As usual. 

So I've given up. I don't feel sexy anymore. I don't feel wanted anymore. I've lost the small amount of confidence I once had in myself. And although I trust my husband 100% I often wonder if he's found another source for sex. Do I think he'd ever actually cheat on me? No. But I can't help but think it's a possibility sometimes. Because why else would he never touch me? Why else would he not want to fuck me? Why else would he seem so content on not having sex with his wife for 7+ months? You'd think that after so long he'd be begging for it. That any little touch would get him going. But no. 

Maybe I'm just highly sexually deprived and that's why I'm feeling this way. But I honestly question sometimes if I may be slightly depressed. I don't feel happy like I use to. I don't feel like smiling. I have a shorter fuse. My temper rises easily. My emotions seem all over the place sometimes and all I want to do is yell at my husband to fuck me. But I shouldn't have to beg him. 

Besides any time in the past I've tried to seduce him it's failed and I've basically lost all confidence in myself to do it. I don't wear sexy things for him anymore. I don't sleep naked for him anymore. And forget about trying to make a move by kissing him, because I honestly don't even think I could do it if I tried. My husband was my first everything- first kiss. First time. First love. And because he was my first I am highly inexperienced in a lot of ways. I don't know how to initiate a kiss and I feel embarrassed whenever I want to kiss him but he doesn't get it and pulls away or asks me "what?" when I linger on his lips. I feel like a child in that department. So I don't even try anymore. 

I don't try at anything anymore. And I hate it. I fucking hate feeling this way. But I've told him before how I feel and he gets guilty, says he'll try harder, but then the cycle starts and nothing ever comes of it. 

So I give up. I give up on trying. I give up on everything. Because I'm tired of it. Tired of feeling this way. Tired of crying. Tired of hoping. Tired of being let down. 

I'm just done. 

Nessie<3

Wedding woes

Weddings are a beautiful, magical thing. Watching two people promise themselves to each other for the rest of their lives, having them choose you to witness- or be part of- their day is probably one of the most honourable things. 

I was part of one special wedding a few weeks back. My sister asked me to stand by her side and be a bridesmaid while she married the man of her dreams. It was blissful. It was chaotic. But it was amazingly beautiful. I loved being part of it. 

I got to see a friend get married last night. A friend I've known since high school. A friend I haven't always been close with but who I've tried to reconnect with over the past few years. A friend whom I love, even if I don't say it. 

And if I'm honest with myself I wish I were part of it, and not just as a witness. But up there, beside you, in a beautiful dress holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers as you pledge yourself to the man you love more than anything. 

You may be reading this, and I hope you understand why I've never said anything to you, nor will I. But it's something I feel I need to put down. If only by words. 

Last night I listened to stories about you from your childhood and from the past few years with your new husband. And while I agree with them all and they're all very true and about you, I felt like there was part of the story missing. There were no stories about you when I really knew you. In high school. I wanted to share those stories. Laugh with everyone. Tell them what a goofball we thought we were. 

I wanted to tell everyone that even though we had some dark times, and that our friendship was a roller coaster that crashed and burned before being reborn from the ashes, we had somehow found our way back to each other and that we were able to pick our friendship back off where we left it. 

I envisioned myself up there with you, eyes welled up with tears as you made your vows, clapping, and hugging, and getting hundreds of pictures taken. Getting ready before the ceremony, laughing, maybe crying, and calming your nerves. 

I wanted to be a part of it all. 

I don't know if it was you who wanted a small wedding party, or if it was something you both chose. Maybe he didn't have a lot of really close male friends to stand by his side. Maybe you were still unsure of me. Whatever the reason is, you should know that if you'd asked I would have said yes. 

But then again I go back and think about my wedding. If I could do it all over again, and choose my bridal party in present times... would I have asked any of you to be my bridesmaids? Sure we're friends again, sure we hang out as often as we can. But we aren't nearly as close as we were in highschool. 

I often wonder what would have become of us if we never stopped being friends. If my stupidity and stubbornness, (and let's not forget my anxiety)- if I hadn't let those things affect a friendship that I should have treasured... what would have happened? Would we be like my sister and her friends? Communicating when you can and getting together when you can, and acting like no time has passed? Drinking wine, laughing at our stupid past, and just being adults? Because we don't exactly do that. We get together as often as we can, but we don't drink wine and gossip- we just hang out. Which is fine, don't get me wrong! Let's be honest, I don't even drink! But there's something different about the dynamic of our friendship to others I see. 

But I don't have a lot of friends. In fact I can probably count on one hand how many friends I do have. Sure I have acquaintances, there are people I knew in the past whom I may call a friend in passing but I've never really talked to in a while. Or seen. Or hung out with. Are they really my friends then? 

I think I just have a hard time defining what a friend really is because my whole life those who I called friends deserted me, or hurt me, and it's left me closed off and unable to make connections with people. I'm constantly afraid of getting hurt. So it's easier not to make those connections with people. 

But that leaves a person very lonely. And when these events happen I get jealous of those friendships I witness. Like my sister with her friends, seeing and hearing all the stories about her and them- I don't have any of that. 

And even listening to your bridesmaid last night. I don't have a friendship like that either. And I'll admit I'm sort of jealous that she has that relationship with you, because if we hadn't crashed and burned, that could have been us. Maybe not, but when I look back at how close we once were, I really do wonder if that would have been me. 

I understand why you didn't ask me to be a bridesmaid. I don't deserve it in any way. But I guess I couldn't help hoping you'd put the past behind you and think about how long we'd been friends and maybe, just maybe, you'd have chosen me. 

But who am I kidding. I know I haven't impacted your life in any special way big enough to earn the honour of being by your side. And the fact I was invited to witness your marriage is enough for me to be thankful. 

And I am. I am very thankful I got to be there. And so happy to see you as so happy. I know the two of you are going to have a strong, long lasting marriage. 

But I am kinda bummed though because I don't think I'll ever be in another wedding. I was a bridesmaid for my sister, and that's probably the only wedding I'll ever get to wear a beautiful dress for. 

An Open Letter To You

You may not remember me, and if you do you probably don't care to hear from me, but we were once good friends. Sure we were young kids, I think it's been about 15 years since we last spoke, but I'll admit to thinking about you from time to time. That probably sounds strange considering everything that hapened, but I think the fact that our friendship ended so strangely, at least to me, left me with something to think about.

I'll admit that for years I held on to this grudge, this hatred even. I had been hurt and I was confused. I didn't understand what I had done to you to make you dislike me so. I had thought I was a pretty good friend. If I remember correctly we use to think of ourselves as sisters even. I spent so much time at your house, and I have so many good memories with you. Even now, 15 years later I enjoy looking back on them.

I remember you teaching me to ride a horse, bare back. I remember you teaching me how to swim; I was terrified of going in your pool because I had never had lessons. But with perseverance and encouragement I learned. I can even remember the barn, how at the top there was a little club house. We had some good times.

But than something changed. I don't know what happened. I just remember getting on the bus one morning and offering you crackers (or cookies... I don't remember which one). You wouldn't speak to me, ignored me, and when I kept bugging you ,you got annoyed and eventually went to the principle about me. You didn't want anything to do with me after that day.

I admit I may not have handled things well the next year or so before you moved away, and any time you came back to visit. And I apologize for anything I may have said or done, to you, your sister, and anyone else in your family. It was a long time ago, and I'm not the same petty and immature person I was back than.

This may sound silly to you but I was changed by everything that happened. It affected my self confidence, it affected my ability to be outgoing and make friends. I developed Social Anxiety and I was lonely for a while; I made the wrong friends because I was just looking for companionship. And that just diminished my self esteem even further until finally I found three girls I could call my best friends. It wasn't that easy for me to forget about what had happened to me though. I was still affected by it, I still held a grudge, I still felt such negative emotions towards you.

But I was finally able to let those feelings go about two years ago. It seems ridiculous that it took so long but I had to do a lot of soul searching, looking at myself, in order to let those feelings go. I've learned a lot about myself these past couple of years. Letting go of ridiculous childhood grudges was one of the steps I had to face in order to truly feel happy and confident with myself. There was no point in dwelling on the past anymore.

And it wasn't just you I've thought about either. I've thought about your sister. She was a part of all of this as well. But when I look back it's you, for some reason, I remember more. It's you I feel I was closer to.

I'm writing this not to look for a response, not to expect any sort of explanation or apology or any of that. As I said you probably don't remember me, and if you do you probably don't care to hear from me. I'm writing this simply for myself. It's the last step in letting go. I've thought about doing this for a while, even clicked on your page a few times but never had the guts. I still don't, to be honest, but I figure I have nothing to lose. The worst that can happen is you don't read it, or you don't respond, or you could respond harshly, but (and forgive me for assuming) I'm guessing you aren't immature enough to do so, even if its your first instinct.

And if you feel the need to share this with your sister I'd understand. At the same time I would understand if you found it pointless. I would also totally understand if you read all of this and delete it without a second thought. If the situation was flipped, and it were you messaging me, I'd be surprised and unsure of what to say, or even if I wanted to say anything at all. I won't be offended either way.

I'm going to end this by saying I hope you're happy. I could very well be wrong but your profile picture makes me assume you are engaged (it looks like an engagement picture anyway) and if that's the case, congratulations. If it's not, than I apologize for assuming so. Whatever the case, I hope your life has been, and continues to be everything you've always wanted it to be.

Holidays with a baby

Going on holidays with a baby is a lot different than I anticipated. When I was asked about going away to a cottage for a week with Roselynn I didn't think it would be any different than going without, except for the fact that I now had a baby. I knew I'd have to feed her, I knew I wouldn't get as good a sleep as I would otherwise, and I knew I'd have to watch her. But I also thought I'd have a bit more help. I did not think about the fact that my companions would be drinking the entire time. I did not think about the fact that the house was at least 50 feet from the water and I didn't have a monitor. I did not think I'd feel like I was missing out on most of the trip. 

Don't get me wrong, no body is making me feel this way, I'm feeling like this all my own. The fact that I don't drink, regardless of the fact that I'm breastfeeding, doesn't help either. Yes they may be understanding of my situation, but I still feel secretly judged: for going to bed at 8, for not having a drink, for not joining in activities and sitting inside at times. No, no one has said anything, and I don't expect they would. I'm a mother of a 4 month old, I'm not expected to be like the rest of them. But it doesn't make me feel any differently. 

I feel left out, not only about activities but even just between the other two girls- my sister and her friend/coworker. They have this bond, they seem very much a like and I am not like either of them. Something as small and simple as my sister braiding her hair and the next day braiding Carissa's, and not even thinking to offer me (not that I wanted it done, my head hurts when my hair is styled) upset me. It shouldn't have but it was again something they did that I couldn't do (my hair doesn't braid easily anyway). 

I don't regret the trip, it's nice and relaxing, peaceful even. And I am enjoying myself. I'm having a good time. I want to be here. But being here without my husband, with two other couples, where they drink all day and don't have the, for lack of a better word, burden of a child (not that I think my daughter is a burden to me at all. I love her dearly), makes things a little difficult. Maybe I'm just being emotional today; I hope that's the case. I don't want to feel this way for the rest of the trip, it's only Sunday night and we don't leave til Friday. 

It's just so easy for them to hop in a boat and go away for a little bit, while I'm stuck sitting on the deck while my baby sleeps. I'll admit I'm a little jealous. I don't think even my sister thought about the fact that it wouldn't be easy for me to do things with the rest of them. She's not a mother. She doesn't understand how hard it is to find free time for yourself. 

But I'm going to try to make the most of this. I'm gonna take cute pictures with my daughter (if she'll cooperate), I'm going to put a smile on my face, and enjoy myself. I'm on vacation and I'm not gonna let stupid small things bother me. 

I hope anyways. 

Til next time

Nessie

Being a mother...

A lot has happened since I last posted on this blog. As you know from reading previous posts, the one thing I ever wanted out of life was to become a mother. And I almost had that chance last year but it was sadly taken away from me. For months I thought a piece of me was missing, that a hole had been placed inside of me, and nothing could fill or fix it. I was terrified to have sex, scared I'd end up pregnant again and have my baby taken from me again. However, in September of 2015, I took a pregnancy test and found out I was indeed pregnant again. The entire pregnancy I was on edge, petrified something bad would happen. Every little thing had me worried. I knew I wouldn't be able to go through that again. But nothing bad happened. And in December, when I was nearly 20 weeks pregnant, I found out I was having a little girl, which was exactly what I wanted. Still I was scared there had been a mistake and that she'd come out a boy. But that didn't happen. Nothing bad happened to me during my pregnancy, it was too easy, I felt too good during the whole thing, which is why I shouldn't have been surprised when I ended up having to be induced because of IUGR (Intrauterine growth restriction). This meant that my little girl wasn't growing at the rate she should have been, that my placenta had stopped growing and giving her the proper nutrients she needed. If she had stayed in longer something bad could have happened. So at 37 weeks 4 days, my little girl came into the world.

On April 27th, at 9:48pm, after 7 hours of labour, Roselynn Kathleen Karkheck made her appearance. She was 5lbs 7.5oz and 18 3/4 inches long. Small, of course, but perfect. The feelings I felt when I first saw her, heard her, and held her are indescribable. Instant love, there's no doubt about it. If you're a mother you know exactly what I am talking about. There are no words I can say that would explain it. It's something you have to experience for yourself.

Because Roselynn was so small we had to be careful about how she ate. It's very normal for a newborn to loose a bit of weight when they're first born, as the colostrum that comes from the breasts before milk is purely nutrients and no calories. She dropped down to just about 5lbs, which was still good, and after 2 days in the hospital (in which they kept her to monitor her sugar levels- all of which came back good), we got to take her home. We were having difficulties breastfeeding though as she couldn't get her latch right, so I was told to hand express into a medicine cup and feed it to her that way. A consultant came and explained everything to me- sadly I misunderstood what she said. For a day and a half I unintentionally starved my daughter. I felt like the worlds worst mother once I figured it out, I bawled my eyes out. You see, the consultant had given us a paper that explained how much she should be eating each day, but she circled the information for how much she should intake per feeding, and I read that as what she needed a day. It seemed like so little, but I thought that's what she meant. So when I couldn't get Roselynn to latch, and I knew she had her 30ml in form of expression, I thought she'd eaten enough. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why she kept screaming until she passed out. It was heartbreaking.

That Sunday though, May 1st, we had a follow up meeting with a consultant to see how Roselynn was doing, and at that appointment we found out that my beautiful daughter had lost an entire pound since she was born 4 days before. She wasn't getting enough to eat, and her sugar levels were down. She also tested positive for jaundice, and was borderline to be readmitted in the hospital. Again I felt like a failure. My daughter was now sick, and had lost so much weight, and it was entirely my fault. Again I bawled my eyes out. She had already been at the hospital for 2 days, I didn't want her there another day, especially since there was a possibility it would be without me. But luckily we had an appointment booked that next morning already with a public health nurse and so we also made another consultant meeting and they let us go. I was given strict orders to pump and bottle feed every 2 hours, regardless if Roselynn was awake or not. In those 12 hours, over night, Roselynn gained half a pound and her jaundice levels had gone way down! I was ecstatic. But she was still having problems breast feeding. I saw the consultant twice more that week, each time Roselynn was gaining and gaining, until she was finally at her birth weight again by the Friday. But she still wouldn't latch. I gave up trying to breast feed and began to exclusively pump and bottle feed. By Roselynn's one month appointment, which was the last time she was weighed, she was up to 7lbs 7oz- 2 whole pounds from what she was at birth! And she's still gaining!

I can not tell you how scary it is to be a mother. I thought the worry throughout pregnancy was bad, but when you're a mother it's 24/7 worries- is she eating enough, wetting/dirtying enough diapers and does it look right, is she sleeping too much or too little, is she breathing, will she stop breathing while she and I sleep... and this is only the first 7 weeks, I can only imagine what the next 17 years are going to be like. But despite the constant worry, the exhaustion and tiredness from being up half the night and dealing with a fussy baby, the lack of food, lack of showers, and lack of a social life- I wouldn't trade it for anything. Being a mother is tough, but it is still everything I want. Roselynn has only been in my life for 7 weeks, but already I can't imagine my life without her anymore. She's got me wrapped around her little finger, she's become my whole world.

Being parents are tough, you lose time with your partner that you always use to have and took for granted. You don't always sleep together anymore, its hard to find time to be intimate, and sleep deprivation can put you on edge and cause a few arguments- but being parents is also the most rewarding and wonderful thing in the world, and if you're strong enough you'll get through it, and be better partners for it. It's been hard for my husband and I, in my opinion. Some nights I don't sleep in bed, some days we don't kiss as often as we used to, or hug, or even get the chance to cuddle. We have yet to have sex, no matter how badly either one of us wants it-  I mean who can find the time? And sometimes I get frustrated with how little it seems he's doing, even though I know it's harder for him than it is for me and he's doing the  best he can. The first few months are the toughest as baby gets use to this whole new world they've been brought into. But it will pass, and you'll forget how tired you were and how hard it was.

Being a mother was all I ever wanted, and now I finally am one. I'm tired, some days I stink because I hadn't showered in 2 days, and the dishes and laundry pile up while my apartment is a mess. But it's all worth it. She's all worth it. And I wouldn't want it any other way.

Until next time,
Nessie <3