Vulnerable

so its been just over a year since my surgery and i need to face the fact that i am not who i used to be mentally. i was a stable person who held things together, could vent without crying, and who could see every side of every situation.
fast forward 14 months and i would like to introduce you to the new me.
my name is susan. i am thirty six years old. i have 3 children, 2 pseudo step-children and one pseudo step, step-child. i live with my boyfriend of 2.5 years. i work for a financial services provider. i live in a trailer with an addition built onto it in april of last year i had an emergency hysterectomy that saved my life. the hot flashes started not long after the recovery began. the mood swings started with a few tears. Then a few more tears, and a year later its water works all the damn time. i cry when i'm sad, i when i'm angry, i when i'm confused. the kiddos and bf don't know what to expect anymore .
can you blame them? when living with someone whose emotions range from and back again in any given how how are they supposed to cope.
i am not coping very well either to be honest. i hate feeling this way and i hate being this person. i can't draw from my mother's handling of the situation because she never showed signs of this after her surgery. i however am suffering like the devil with symptoms especially the mood swings. i know dean will love seeing this in print cause it means i am admitting it finally. hes been egging me on about it for a year and finally i have to admit he is right.
the last few weeks i have been feeling the down swing of the emotions and have even considered going to the dr about some anti-depressants but i don't know if that is a step i really want to take. i might try some vitamins and health foods first. anyway the point is im feeling very vulnerable in my relationship. a couple of you will understand my fears and my crap that goes with it and the rest won't cause i haven't wanted to talk it out.
point is i am reading into things that aren't there. i am insecure about the things i should have a deep sense of security about. i fear that my relationship is being put in jepoardy because i assume things and read into actions and in the harsh reality of daylight i realize this is stupid. sure there are little things little actions that i need to learn to trust and believe are nothing more than what they really are. i need to learn to talk without crying. i need to learn to cry without talking.
i live with a really incredible guy. he actually seems to understand that although he can't understand what im going through its not me but the hormones that control my insecurities and control my emotional outbursts. tonight he made better all that had been bugging me all day long just by spending a couple minutes holding me. he didn't ask what was wrong, he didn't ask what he could to do make it better. instead he just held me and let me be secure in his arms.
those of you who knew where my mind was rest assured im ok and things are alright. i over-react and thats why i don't share much anymore. i never know if im being rational or logical til the end of the day.
today sucked. i let my crap get to me. tonight life is good and as my bf plays games on pogo with his friends i know that when i go to bed tonight he will be beside me where he wants to be and he will hold me while i drift off to sleep with the salt of my drying tears on his shoulder.
menopause sucks but my life is good even on the bad days.

So Much Like His Mom

It amazes me how watching my children reminds me of my own childhood. It is seldom that I take the time to just watch them be. Life gets in the way and becomes a rush of get here, go there, do this, put away that and the innocence of childhood is lost in the chaos.
Daniel was drawing this morning and for some reason it reminded me of when I tried to be an aspiring artist when I was his age. Now please keep in mind I can’t draw to save my life and still can’t. I thought I could though. I would draw pathetic cats and dogs. Fruit looked like rotten and plants wilted when I attempted to put them to paper. To this day I have a couple of the pictures that didn’t turn out too badly but for the most part I hope my mother burned the rest.
In contrast to this I could paint when I was a child.. At least my teacher made me believe I could. My art used to end up in local expositions. I don’t know if my mother has any of those left although I doubt she does. I would paint ghastly dresses and gowns that were full of colour and flair. I would paint lace on the sleeves and necklines. Graced with appalling ribbons and bows the paintings were to my teacher works of art. Mrs B boosted my ego and self esteem with those paintings. She praised me for them and entered them in local contests and shows. I was proud of them although I don’t think they ever won ribbons or anything of that nature.
I remember that teacher fondly although her name escapes me I know it started with a B until she got married mid year. She was insistent we learn to draw a straight line without a ruler, one of the girls in the class was always the best at this little task. Not me I still can’t draw a straight line without a ruler. She let us have class out in the schoolyard on sunny days. We would all gather up paper and pencils to go sit under the mighty oaks in the playground. The Indian summers of late September early October allowed us to sit in the grass and enjoy the fresh air. Ms B would hand us a piece of paper with a list of local bugs, leaves and plants on it and it became a treasure hunt. We didn’t know we were learning we thought we were cutting out of class for some fun.
I was in grade 3 that year and my parents had been separated just over a year. I didn’t know where I fit into the scheme that is life and this teacher tried really hard to show me I was loved and special in my own way. It was very unusual to come from a "broken" home back then although I didn’t understand the ramifications of all of that. I knew I saw my dad every other weekend and it was what it was. Not until I was much older did I realize what it all meant. I was picked on all through grade school for being different. I was bullied and called names that still bruise my heart to this day. I had been in the school for a year before getting this teacher who made such a huge impact on my life.
Daniel is having the same kind of issues at school. He is so much like his mother it hurts to see him go through the things I did. He has made leaps and bounds this year in maturity though there are moments when he slips. He doesn’t make friends easily and when he does make friends I know they are the kinds of friends that will use him for what they can and then they will leave him with hurt feelings and a bruised heart. He a sensitive kid who tries hard to make friends by being funny which makes other people see him as a goof or class clown.
He is so much like his mother trying to fit in not knowing where he belongs.