No other word for it: stressed

I've started this post about a dozen times in recent weeks. It never reads right so I just trash it and tell myself to forget about it. But I can't. I'm not even sure where to start but here it goes.

I never liked February and March that much. Even as a child, I never faired well in the stretch between Christmas and Easter, two important holidays in our home and at my school.

Easter, being the biggest holiday, represented a rebirth, not only in the Catholic sense but of my strength and ability to cope with the everyday stressors. The school term, while thankfully short, was the hardest for me and participating in extra-curricular and social activities became incredible sources of stress.

I'd count the days (with the help of Lent) and set small goals to feel more accomplished thus relieving some of the weight this big black cloud of stress created for me. Sometimes it would be a simple goal like going out with friends on the weekend instead of making excuses, other times lofty, like kicking butt on a midterm exam.

I also hoped I would grow out of this annual funk and learn how to be a less tense and stressed-out adult.

No such luck.

As an adult the seasonal slump persisted and I would still set the goals. Being single and employed, these goals were much more rewarding and successful. I would plan trips to warm locations (sunshine - the cure-all!) or weekend trips with the girlfriends (misery loves company, alcohol and chocolate!). I would space them out so I wouldn't have any lag time and most years I would survive without too much of a funk. My friends understood and I actually wasn't alone in this quasi-SAD.

Then came motherhood. Last year was my first Winter as a mom and I foolishly thought that having a sweet babe in my arms would prevent my malaise. What the fuck was I thinking? Obviously not much. I definitely was in the throws of mild PPD and once again I had to get my head out of my ass and set goals. I signed up for a parenting class that was a block away (had to be close by because I otherwise would not go) and forced myself to go. It was a miracle that (a) it was so close to home and (b) starting just as I was bottoming out.

It helped but I didn't relate to many of the other moms. They were already in little cliques and while I did make a good neighbourhood mom friend, most of the ladies were not my cup of tea. But something new was going to help me over this hump.

SB rigged up one of the computers so it was by my nursing chair where it seemed I spent 95% of the day. He bought a tracking ball to replace the mouse because he had come home one too many times to find me in tears, stuck underneath a sleeping baby and unable to surf without waking the "I will not sleep unless conditions are perfect" child. I surfed for hours at a time (there is only so much TV one person can watch) and the web became my new hangout.

One day, with a rare free hand, I googled craft sites. I was looking for a new project and I wanted to be doing something productive and creative. What I found was something completely different but utterly the same: parent blogs.

Woah. I found parents talking boobs, poop, babies, frustrations, careers, and all the same freakin' stuff I was thinking and wanting to talk about. Some thought like me, others didn't but I liked reading their opinions. I found advice (without being annoyed), I found cute photos and thought provoking posts. I found solace.

Eventually I got up the nerve to start my own blog and I started talking too. I found friends and made friends IRL that knew me through my posts and still wanted to hang out. I laughed and cried and started thinking like a functioning adult again.

It helped me get over that annual hump and now I had a safe outlet for my thoughts.

But things changed. Not only am I going through my selfish (in my mind) phase of depressed seasonal crap, I'm also stressed out to the gills over other "stuff". Personal stuff. Stuff I want to talk about and can't. And I can't even explain why I can't talk about it without causing more stress.

And I really can't take any more stressful crap.

I cry in the shower. I get lost in thought. I've tried to find a new outlet. And I can't. It makes me so stressed that I can't write about this stuff.

I should just go to one of the wonderful anonymous blogs and post my crap but it makes me angry (yes, angry) that I can't do it in my own forum. It makes me more angry that I can't talk about why.

SB tells me to forget about it and just write but it's not that simple. I can't change the way I feel.

I hope by writing this incoherent and inconclusive outburst, I might feel better. I'm sick of snapping at strangers, feeling blue* and I've got to get rid of that crushing, near-hyperventilating feeling in my chest. I don't want to feel this way but I need to scream out. And I can't.

Please let this garbled post help, even just a little bit. I just need a break from that big black stinkin' cloud that is hanging over my head.

* I hate using that word to describe how I feel. It's so fluffy and trivial sounding. See? I'm so freaking cranky that the words I'm using are pissing me off.