You guys...no joke...I've been staring at a screen, trying to address this subject for MONTHS! It's something that's SO difficult to talk about, but SO important to me. Let me try to break it down...
Here's Kev and I, last weekend. I was laughing my ass off because he left the house that night thinking he was sporting an ugly Christmas sweater. Turns out, everyone just thought he was trying to be trendy. Kev and I wouldn't know "trendy" if it bit us in the ass. Anywho...I look happy as shit, right?
What you can't see is how awful I actually felt inside. It took EVERYTHING in me to get ready that night. Getting ready BLEW, with the physical act of showering being the most difficult of tasks. I had zero energy, and wanted to do nothing more but throw on my chubbiest pair of sweatpants and binge on some Netflix. And by Netflix...I mean...salt and vinegar chips. I hated getting dressed. I lived in Lularoe leggings. It was the only thing I could wear without realizing how fat I was actually getting. NOTHING fit!!! Sour cream and I had become BFF's, with her Sister cream cheese as a close second. Trying to get my "skinny" jeans on was like wrestling a rubbery baby seal into a non-lubricated wet suit. My FUPA started making the rules, and my armpit boobs wanted in on ALL of that action. I felt disgusting!!!
Making plans was just downright painful. If I make plans, that means I have to shower, put on clothes, makeup, hair, and worst of all...socialize with people. Can you HONESTLY believe that I would physically start to sweat profusely over the thought of being around people and talking? Crazy, right? I mean, I'm stuck with tiny spawns of Satan all day. Why WOULDN'T I long for a little adult interaction?
It sucks, you guys. That shit creeps up on me like ANY one of my children when I'm trying to poop. It's mean. It's nasty, and it doesn't give a care.
The week before Christmas it all came full circle for me.
This is where Young Living steps in. In 2013, after I had Penny, I was in a BAD place. Like...REAL bad. I'll make a long story short here, but postpartum is NO JOKE. I was sad. I was mean. I was disinterested...in EVERYTHING and EVERYONE. I had TERRIBLE thoughts. I was irrational, and believed things to be true that were not. I lost friends. I neglected my kids. I was a jerk face to my Husband. I was worse to the people I loved the most. I told my doc...was put on some crap...and carried on. I felt a bit better, but side effects like anal leakage, excessive sweating, and dry mouth just sounded like not so much fun. And lets be real..."loss of interest in sex" wasn't on Kev's list of top 10 things to happen in 2013.
I started noticing Young Living ALL over the place. People were all..."My head doesn't hurt...I'm losing weight...I'm not blowing snot all over my customers anymore...AND..."I'm happier!!!"
Ummmmmm....SOLD. Sign me up please!
So there I was. Got my oils...loved my oils...started sharing my love for oils.
In comes friends loving oils...and then friends of friends loving oils...and then random people that I've never met loving oils. I've met SO many new people, and I've made SO many new friends. Simply by just sharing something I loved.
Fast forward to last week...
Here's my girl Jen. I introduced her to Young Living the same year I was, and here she is knowing SOMETHING was not right with me.
And then Jodie, who I signed up late 2014.
2 people that I had never interacted with prior to Young Living. 2 people that I helped WITH Young Living. 2 people that have lives of their own, along with worries of their own, but here they were...worried about me.
Sadness brought me oils...brought me people...brought them oils...brought me happiness.
They both came over on the Thursday morning before Christmas, and did ALL OF THIS!!! They brought coffee, donuts, birthday cake pops, cupcake frappuccinos, and FANTASTIC attitudes. JUST what I needed. I cannot even begin to explain to anyone how much this meant to me. I was able to get more done, and in return, spend more quality time with my Family for Christmas. It was these 2 girls that helped me realize that I was falling into a funk again, and it was these 2 girls that made me realize that I needed my happy oils to get my ass through the winter.
Depression is scary, ya'll. It's debilitating and relentless. Wether it be a friend, a Family member, your local grocery store bagger, or the Family dog...REACH OUT!!! If you notice ANYTHING off at ALL, just ask. It's that easy. A simple question, a quick talk, or a little help...from even a stranger, can pull someone out of a serious dung pile. I've been there. I know!!! I still get there. What you see on the outside...or on social media, is NOT always what's happening on the inside. Depression does not discriminate against race, religion, sexual orientation. It can attach itself to ANYONE. Thousands of us suffer from it, but with it comes an ugly stigma. The only way to remove this stigma completely, is to TALK ABOUT IT...openly...without shame.
I'm an open book, guys. If any of you feel this way, and need someone to talk to...PLEASE reach out. I'll lock myself in the bathroom with a burrito bowl and a glass of wine...and I'll LISTEN.
On a lighter note...
I tried Ripsticking again.
Can somebody PLEASE remind me that I'm 37 years old, can hardly shave my legs properly, and cannot...I repeat CANNOT Ripstick?
You guys...for real...I mess up on the REGULAR. Like...daily. We all know this, and we all know that I have ZERO problem talking about it. But TODAY. Today was the fuck up of ALL fuck ups. I'm almost to the point where I think..."Ooooooooh...Meg, let's maybe keep this one to yourself. NOTHING good can possibly come from this. People are going to start to wonder how it's even possible that you keep 6 children alive, let alone brush your teeth or use the washroom. It's. That. Bad.
Let's have a little refresher on my previous Mom Fails...
That time, in the summer, when I was heading to Nikkita's for coffee and girl talk, but I forgot that there was still a kid sleeping upstairs.
That time the kids were all..."My popsicle tastes like toofpaste!" And I was all..."Shut up! You're all just a bunch of stupid children."
When in reality...Their popsicles had been floating in Grandpa's Sambuca.
I'm just tossing this one in because I suck at dishes, and I think they're stupid.
That time I let Quinn play with an EXTREMELY venomous caterpillar because I'm stupid, and should've FOR SURE failed Biology.
That time I had to go pick up Quinn, but couldn't find my car keys...because my dumb ass left my car running for 4.5 hours at the end of the block after I dropped her off at the bus stop that morning.
Thought to myself..."It's the beginning of the school year...you'll get your shit together soon, I'm SURE."
That time I had to drive Quinn to school because, NATURALLY...we missed the bus. Only problem is...that's not Quinn's fucking school!!!
Oh, this day just sucked a GIANT one!!! You can read about it here
Here I am...at Quinn's bustop. Been waiting here a while. Maybe 10 minutes. I hear Penny...
"Mommy, can me get out of my buckle?"
"No sweetie...let's wait for Quinn."
And then I hear it...
"Mom! I'm right here!"
Mother FUCK!!! Quinn stayed home today!!! I kept her home because of a shitty cough. I...legit...put this child into the car...buckled her...and tried to pick her up from her own damned bus stop. Does the story get better? Sure the fuck does. The lights were on. You know...on the bus. He saw me. He was preparing to stop. WTF was I to do? I had to get out of the car and somehow explain myself. He already knew. This poor man literally STOPPED his bus to tell the batshit, dumb as rocks Mom...that her child was ALREADY in her car. I wish I had gotten a picture of his face. He already thinks I have the brains of a small field mouse given the "I left my car running" story. He just laughed his ass off and shook his head.
So...to all of the parents out there who think they're COMPLETELY failing at this thing called life, just remember...it could be worse. You could be ME. Being a parent is the most rewarding thing in this world, but at the same time...it DESTROYS brain cells. No joke.
I want to hear all of your Mom/Dad fail stories!!! Let's all laugh our asses off, and embrace it...instead of judging and tearing each other down.