Seeing the Great Gatsby

I have a personal relationship with the novel The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald.  That book defines my love of American Literature in a way no other novel does.  But let me back up.

I first read the book as a junior in high school.  I don’t remember much of that experience.

I read it again as an undergrad at Western Michigan University in an American Lit class.  And that is where I fell in love. Hard.

With the Roaring Twenties. With the cynical outlook on The American Dream. With the emptiness of wealth.  With the debauchery and moral-less actions of the characters.  With disliking characters but LOVING the novel.

I went on to teach it every year except one during the past 12 years.  One of those years I had five sections of American Lit meaning I read through the novel five times that year.

I have watched both the 1974 and the 2000 film adaptations of the novel, despising both for a variety of things.  I tend to show the 2000 (by director Robert Markowitz) to my juniors for the sheer ridiculousness of it and because the 1974 version (with Robert Redford, directed by Jack Clayton and with Francis Ford Coppola as a writer) is so boring I would rather watch paint dry.

I think the thing that was most disappointing about both of those films was that I didn’t walk away feeling like I had actually seen the Great Gatsby.  Yes it was a retelling (mostly) of the plot, but the plot is not even primary to the novel.  The plot is not what The Great Gatsby is about.

Both films portrayed a love story…almost a glorified soap opera.  That was not Fitzgerald’s intent at all.  He did not write a story about people loving each other. At all.

When I heard that Baz Luhrmann was working on a screenplay of the novel, I had hopes.  High hopes.

I adore his modern music meets Elizabethan iambic pentameter in Romeo and Juliet and his over-the-top cinematography of Moulin Rouge!  Going in to the movie theater on Sunday, I expected a combination of both.

I was right.

I must also admit to stalking the movie trailers and predictions for months before the film came out.  I waited a week to see it and in that time drove myself batty reading all the fun satires and the scathing reviews.  The critique that I kept hearing over and over was “it doesn’t stick to the time period. It’s not the 20′s.”

Even though I had not yet seen the film I couldn’t help but silently cry out, “You’re wrong. I KNOW you’re wrong.”

Because The Great Gatsby is not a novel about the 20′s.  Although Fitzgerald put as much pop culture in the book as he possibly could.  He was a fan of the boisterous, the loud, the showy…look at his lifestyle and his wife for proof of that.

Fitzgerald was the one to coin the term “The Jazz Age” and use jazz music and the “black movement” in his novel…even though the people around him told him not to do it.  The warned him that it was a passing fad and that it would make his book unrelateable and out of fashion quickly.

Guess who was right?

The choice to have Jay-Z do the score–and include a contemporary “black/street” music injection to the movie–was not just genius, it was exactly up Fitzgerald’s alley.  It was totally Gatsby of Luhramm to do.

Hip hop is not a passing fad, just like jazz wasn’t.

The music also tied the novel to 2013 by showing how much has not changed about greed in America.  We are shown a 20′s setting with music of today and it fits. The 1920′s, especially in The Great Gatsby, were full of debauchery and greed.  How is that different from today?

But it wasn’t just the music I liked, I also liked the casting.

The men were the best cast. Leonardo DiCaprio is a “great” Gatsby.  He has all the created polish and manners that Jay Gatsby worked so hard to pretend to have in the novel.  Tobey Maguire is a good fit for Nick with his wide-eyed worried nature.  Joel Edgerton is by far the best cast Tom of all three movies.  He is aggressive an actually carries himself in the “hulking” way Daisy describes him as.  And Jason Clarke is a perfect George Wilson from his build to his hair to his bright blue eyes.

I was not as impressed with the female character casting. Carey Mulligan is an Ok Daisy. I’m not sure any actress can portray the Daisy Fitzgerald creates with his words.  There is always something lacking, and in this case Mulligan lacked The Voice.  She was too… likable.  I actually found myself feeling sorry for her, which I never EVER do when I read the novel.

Isla Fisher plays the voluptuous Myrtle, and does it well.  Luhramm has made her into the brightest, most gaudy spot in the desolate Valley of Ashes, just as Fitzgerald does in the novel.

Of all the film versions, Luhramm gives the best impression of actually having read and analyzed the novel.  He gets all the tiny details right: the way Catherine’s bracelets jingle on her wrist in the apartment party, the way the phone book drops to the floor in the hotel room, and the way the clock tips and falls at Nick’s house.

Speaking of Nick’s house, my favorite scene in the novel is when he has Daisy over for tea and Gatsby “drops by,” so when the scene was approaching in the film, I sat forward with my elbows on my knees.

(By the way, this is also where I started to look like a weirdo being e alone in the theater and saying the lines along with the characters.)

Luhramm gets this perfect.  From the way Gatsby is totally distracted, almost angry as he waits with Nick in a room that is packed with white flowers to how tense it is when Gatsby stands against the mantel (and the clock) looking down and Nick and Daisy with unease.

It is exactly…exactly…how I picture it when I read.  In fact, I found myself laughing at Gatsby standing in the rain at the front door the same way my students do when I read that section out loud.

For all the criticism the film is getting–when you do an adaptation of the Great American Novel, you sort of open yourself to it–I think Fitzgerald would have been happy with the outcome.

Of course there are things I didn’t like.  While I like the frame that Nick is writing this story down after the fact (that is true to the novel, by the way.  Nick actually says to the readers, “as I glance over all I have written so far…”), I can’t get behind Nick writing the story from the inside of a sanitarium.

I don’t believe Nick “cracked up” at the end of the novel.

I don’t believe he was an alcoholic, let alone a recovering one.

Nick is one of the most infamous unreliable narrator of all time, but I do not believe he was a boozer or insane.

There were also things Luhramm left out of the movie, and things he added that sort of held the hand of the viewer the way you don’t get when you read the book, but after rolling it all over in my mind, I think it’s Ok.

For instance, I think it’s Ok we don’t get the scene with Gatsby’s dad or the scene of Gatsby’s funeral.  Those points were made in other scenes in other ways and to add these would be redundant to the film.

I was bothered that Jordan’s dishonesty was all but left out instead leaving her as just an aloof, jaded character.  I did like that everyone in the book is a careless driver, and that you only understand the symbolism of that you read the book.

I was also bothered that Gatsby didn’t meet Pammy the way he does in the novel. I think seeing her brings a different kind of twist in his “perfect” plan that Luhramm leaves out almost completely in the film.  He has Nick mention her, but only so Daisy can say the “little fool” line.

In the end, as I repeated those final lines of the novel along with Nick, I realized I didn’t have the same sense of empty delusion that I have when I read the book.

In fact, I sort of liked all the characters in the movie. I don’t think that is supposed to happen.

But maybe it’s because I was so pleased with how they portrayed the characters from the novel.

What I do know is that actually seeing The Great Gatsby is a different medium than reading it.  Images affect me differently than words do.

So I don’t think anyone will ever get a version that is just right.  Because you can’t do in images what you can do in words.  Oh, it’s beautiful and it’s wonderful and it’s a grand movie, but you almost can’t compare it aesthetically to the novel because to do so, you would be discounting something important and special from each medium.

The message of social class difference comes through in both though.  And of carelessness.

And of Gatsby symbolizing a great hope that might very well be pointless.

“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter–tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther….And one fine morning–
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”

 

fish school

Cort and I have said from the start of parenthood that we wanted to encourage our kids to participate in activities that they want to try.  Cort was a very active, athletic kid.  He played different sports until middle/high school when he focused on soccer.  I was the least athletic kid on the planet.  My parents had to drag me kicking and screaming to t-ball.

Cort ran around with friends and siblings for fun.  I ran if I was chased.

Cortney enjoyed riding his bike to town with friends to get baseball cards.  I steered my bike straight into the ditch because I hated it.

So far Eddie is more like his dad (thank goodness) in that he loves to be active.  He loves to play anything outside that requires physical activity and he loves to be included.

Eddie is very competitive, especially with himself.  If he believes he could have done better, he gets angry.  And unlike his mom who would have given up out of sheer embarrassment when she didn’t get it the first time, Eddie tackles challenges until he can conquer them.

He’s a bit timid, but once he learns there is nothing to be afraid of, he will definitely try.

So while Eddie is begging us to enroll him in ALL OF THE THINGS, one thing we insisted on was swimming lessons.

Eddie is all the way on the left.

Eddie is all the way on the left.

We live in West Michigan only a very short drive from Lake Michigan.  Cortney’s mom and step-dad have a pool.  My dad has a boat.  We have friends with a boat. We spend ample amount of time near water all summer long.  Swimming lessons are just not optional.

My mom made my brothers and me take them. I was terrible.  I still am terrible.  I can tread water for days, but I hate putting my face under water and I never mastered the art of blowing out of my nose.  Oh, and I can’t dive.  Never learned.  Never wanted to.

Cortney’s mom made them take swimming lessons as well.  He and his siblings grew up on boats, and it was part of the deal that you could not be on the docks without your life jacket unless you passed a certain level of swimming lesson.  Cort is an awesome swimmer as far as your average swimmer goes.

Eddie practices kicking and "scooping" on the noodle.

Eddie practices kicking and “scooping” on the noodle.

Eddie has always loved the water, but last year he really came out of his shell.  He stopped needing to cling to us in the pool or lake and started to venture out (with his life jacket on) on his own.  He even jumped from the dock while we were on vacation and off the side of the pool to Cort at Cort’s mom’s house!

We decided that this spring was the year to start lessons.  Eddie is almost four, potty-trained, and in love with the water.  Why wait?

coming back!

coming back!

We signed him up for the fish school (he he) preschool swimming lessons.  And he did really great!

Cort brought him each week (Saturday mornings for 30 minutes) to have a lesson with Miss Abbie and three other kids.  He got lots of personal attention and was not scared at all.

Each week Cort took him to the donut shop after as a reward.  Eddie would come home and tell me how he learned to “scoop the ice cream” and paddle like a penguin.

He really loved it.

Well, most of it.

keep the face up...UP!

keep the face up…UP!

He hated putting his face in the water, and he didn’t master the art of blowing bubbles with his nose.

And thus, he needs to repeat this level again next year.  Other than that? He got high marks in EVERYTHING.

2013-05-18 11.36.19

His first report card!

Every single other skill was marked as completed.  So this summer, Cortney will work with him on putting his whole face in the water and blowing bubbles with his nose.

Because I still can’t do that skill either.

Next up for the summer? Two weeks of gymnastics for an hour a day.  And that is it for the summer.  We decided two activities (one chosen by us and one by him) was enough since we have lots of other family fun planned too. Even though he wanted to do soccer too.

I love that Eddie is excited and wants to do ALL THE THINGS, but how many is “enough”?

And really, sometimes I feel like maybe three is too young, but other times I feel like people are starting their kids out of the womb!  What do you think?

Project 365 {week 20}

This week was my last “full” week of school.

Two more four-day weeks and it’s all over for another school year.

As usual, we kept busy, but thankfully this week was a bit less so.

May 12: happy low-key mother's day to me!

May 12: happy low-key mother’s day to me!

May 13: Give the kid some boxes and you've got pure joy.

May 13: Give the kid some boxes and you’ve got pure joy.

 

May 14: The Bird took a dive at daycare. Barely cried. Good Lord, we have a rough houser on our hands.

May 14: The Bird took a dive at daycare. Barely cried. Good Lord, we have a rough houser on our hands.

May 15: In an attempt to get out of a major mood funk, happy shoes!

May 15: In an attempt to get out of a major mood funk, happy shoes!

 

May 16: New Rule: You Make the Mess? You Clean the Mess.

May 16: New Rule: You Make the Mess? You Clean the Mess.

May 17: Brothers. Awwww!

May 17: Brothers. Awwww!

 

May 18: Stomp Out Stigma walk for Mental Health with my sister-in-law, Sarah.

May 18: Stomp Out Stigma walk for Mental Health with my sister-in-law, Sarah.

You get a bonus picture today…Something fun…

Oh that's just me...in Babytalk Magazine...ON THE SAME PAGE AS ALANIS MORISSETTE!

Oh that’s just me…in Babytalk Magazine…ON THE SAME PAGE AS ALANIS MORISSETTE!

So you know, I’m in print and stuff.

Woot!

He is Now a Role Model

A couple weeks ago, Cortney made his graduation from college official by participating in commencement. I proudly sat in the super hot field house packed tightly on a folding chair between my sister-in-law (bless her heart sitting there all first-trimestery) and a woman who was not tiny who decided to sit sideways in her seat which means her left thigh/butt cheek was all pressed on my thigh all the while a small boy about Eddie’s age sat backward in his folding chair in front of me swinging his legs and bruising up my shins nicely.

I fanned myself with the program.  You know…the program that had this in it:

2013-05-03 17.40.34

We craned our necks and saw him walk in.  One WOO WOO from Cort’s mom and he knew where we were seated, which meant that later, after all the speakers and honorary what-have-you’s when he was up front waiting to walk across the stage, he and I could exchange big stupid grins from across the huge field house.

Normally, the speeches and everything bore me to death, but I sort of paid attention to the commencement address this time (partly because she polled the audience to see how many people actually remember any of the graduation speeches they have ever heard and I could not raise my hand…which is especially sad not just because I sit through high school graduation every single year, but because some of those speeches? I helped write. Oops).

Anyway, the speech.  Her theme was Everything You Need to Know you Learned at GRCC.  It was cute and quirky and she even interviewed specific students to use their anecdotes. It was nice.

Most of that stuff I don’t remember.

What I do remember is that she told the graduates that they learned to be role models.

She, also a community college grad, related to the graduating class about WHY people choose to go to community college:  some for financial reasons…to get those “gen eds” out of the way on the cheap, but many many are there because of a negative reason: nowhere else would take them.

It brought me back to the night Cort got his honors medal.  Each student awarded was able to say a few words upon acceptance.  One beautiful young girl (young to me, she was probably in her 20′s) took the mic and told us that she had all the staff to thank.  She came to GRCC as a high school dropout who had messed up in every possible way, and now she was graduating with the highest honors the college could bestow upon her.

My eyes teared up.

Cort was not a high school dropout, but he didn’t do his best the first time he did college.  He wasn’t focused, he didn’t know what he wanted out of college, and he was just not ready.  He had been an Ok student in high school, but there you didn’t have to have a focus other than finishing the courses the counselors told you to do.  College was different, and after two years in two different universities, he left for the work world.

Five years ago, he and I sat down to talk about how much he hated his job at the time.  We talked about going back to school.

“For what? Sales? I hate my job,” he lamented.

“If you could get paid to do anything, what would it be?” I asked him (as I have asked innumerable students in the past)

“I don’t know. Computer stuff?”

“There are a million ‘computer stuff’ degrees…and those people make nice money, babe.”

And so off he went.  Full of doubt, but focused.

2013-05-03 19.11.33

In the five years that he was in school, he lost a job and gained a job.

He became a dad.

He lost both grandpas.

He became an uncle.

He gained four new in-laws.

He survived a wife with mood disorders.

He supported his family even when he needed to do homework…and he still got A’s.

He became a role model to many, many people, but mostly to our sons.

One thing our family values is education (in case you didn’t notice).  When we did our “priceless conversation” with our will, we talked extensively about the importance of education.  Of knowledge. Of being a life-long learner.

When I was in 6th grade, my mom decided to pursue a dream of hers and went back to school to study accounting.  She graduated from college the same spring I graded from high school.  That has had an enormous impact on me.  It has fueled my belief that you don’t say no to your dreams.  You don’t say no to a thirst for knowledge.

Cortney’s Gram (along with his Gramps) raised eight children, fostered a bazillion, and loved all those kids’ friends like her own.  She played piano and organ for the church.  She owned her own business (with Cort’s Gramps).  To say she was a busy lady is a massive understatement. Yet, she had a passion for learning and, once the kids were grown,  got her Master’s Degree just because she wanted to.  She was most definitely one of Cort’s role models when it came to making the decision to go back.

2013-05-03 19.55.35

Cort almost didn’t walk.  He was done in December and thought it would be silly to walk in May after he had been done for so long.  And for “just” an Associates.

I needed it to be his decision, but oh how I wanted him to walk.

And then his Gram told him, “You will never regret walking, but you most definitely may regret NOT walking.”

So he did.  And he wanted his Gram to be there, but she came down with shingles two days before commencement and couldn’t come.  But Cort’s mom and sister and wife were there.

2013-05-03 19.55.00

And we cheered so loud when his name was called, he admitted that from the stage, it sounded like more than three people.  SCORE!

I don’t really have the words to tell you how proud I am of Cortney.

He is now one of the role models our sons have for strong people who empowered themselves with education.  Who had a thirst that could only be quenched by books and papers and projects and class discussion.  Who wanted something and figured out how to get it.

why yes, I DID make him put this back on for a picture with the boys.

why yes, I DID make him put this back on for a picture with the boys.

We believe education is important.

And we have the degrees on the wall that prove that belief.

We are role models.

my walls

There is this white wall, above which the sky creates itself-
Infinite, green, utterly untouchable.
Angels swim in it, and the stars, in indifference also.
They are my medium.
The sun dissolves on this wall, bleeding its lights.

People describe me as energetic and fun and easy to talk to and laugh with.

My students are surprised when I tell them I am in my mid-30′s; they expected mid-20′s.

Sometimes, on casual Fridays, my ponytail/hoodie combo paired with my grin and the pep in my step get me mistaken for a student.

I love fiercely.

Most people don’t notice the wall that closes in on me.

On the days when that smile fades as I climb into my car.  As I wish for an early bedtime.  As I dread going home to more people.

On days when I want the world to go away because I just can’t care about your problems anymore. I can’t care about your mundane, whiny facebook updates or your cheery coffee-induced tweets.

I don’t care about feeding the family or doing the dishes.

I don’t care about grading or lesson planning.

I just want to sleep the world away.

The wall moves quickly.

I suffer from Depression.

A grey wall now, clawed and bloody.
Is there no way out of the mind?
Steps at my back spiral into a well.
There are no trees or birds in this world,
There is only sourness.

I post a million happy pictures of me and my sons and my husband.

There is so much love in this family it is overflowing.

Hugs and kisses and flowers and snuggles and drawings of “macaroni and cheese machines”.

But there are also those thoughts that zap in out of nowhere.

My son hit by a rouge car, his body crushed and broken.

My baby floating lifeless in the tub.

Like in the movies, there is a flash, the image, a flash, and back to reality.

I shudder.

But sometimes, there is a flash, the image, and then…it doesn’t stop.  The scenario plays out.  I can’t turn it off as horrified as I am.  I am feeling the horribleness of the reality that is not real.

I do not want this.

I do not want to see this.

I have had intrusive thoughts.**

I want to get over, around, under, away from this wall that is closing in.

I have suffered from Postpartum Depression, Anxiety, and OCD.

This red wall winces continually:
A red fist, opening and closing,
Two grey, papery bags-
This is what i am made of, this, and a terror
Of being wheeled off under crosses and rain of pietas.

I am confident and laid back.

People ask me how I keep it all together.  All the schedules and the achievements.  How do we do it all?

We have gotten degrees while working and having children.

We have great times and throw wonderful parties.

We love each other forever and always.

But there is also the terror that it will crumble.

There is a wall of fear that closes in.

There is the fear that something will happen to take my joy away from me.  That it’s all “too good to be true.”

That is a cliché for a reason, after all.

Other shoe dropping and all.

Where are those shoes?  Are they heavy? Do they look like terminal illness?  Death?  Divorce? Destruction?

A crushing wall.

I suffer from Anxiety.

On a black wall, unidentifiable birds
Swivel their heads and cry.
There is no talk of immorality among these!
Cold blanks approach us: 
They move in a hurry.*

The walls closed in before I even noticed.

They always do.

Thankfully, I am surrounded by people who keep an eye on my walls.

Because when the walls move, they move quickly.  And if no one is watching, they will crush me.

I’ve been squeezed, but those walls have yet to finish me off.

And I am confident that they never will.

*************

I'm Blogging for Mental Health.

*From the poem “Apprehensions” by Sylvia Plath

**I have never acted on these intrusive thoughts.  Intrusive thoughts do not always mean feeling like you want to harm your loved ones, but in my case it was the playing out the scenarios if they did get hurt.

The Unassuming Mother’s Day

I have so many words in my head and heart for Mother’s Day.

So many mothers I would love to write about and give words to so they know what impact they have had on me…and how they continue to inspire me every single day.

So many different types of moms: laid back ones, working moms, stay at home moms, teacher moms, best friend moms, groovy moms, trendy moms, veteran moms, newbie moms, optimistic moms, realistic moms, dreamy moms, dreamer moms, hot moms, sad moms, hurting moms, waiting-to-be moms, past moms, present moms, my mom.

All beautiful.

All deserving of something extraordinary.

But this year there was no fanfare.

And I was glad for it.

There was no running around to all of the mothers and trying to thank every mother who has ever mothered me or inspired me to mother.

There was sleeping in.

There were boys pouncing on the bed.

There were new jammies that someone (ahem…EDDIE) had already told me about.

There were cards…one in particular with a “macaroni and cheese machine” drawn on it.

There were wet kisses and tight hugs.

There was fighting and whining and pooping in diapers and barging into the bathroom.

There were groceries gotten and laundry done.

There was feeding of hungry boys.

There was grading of long-overdue tests.

There was a bubble bath.

There was rocking.

There was wearing sweat pants all day.

There was this…

008

Smile as hard as you can.

And hold on even harder than that.

Mother.

So much power in that title.

I hope I do justice to it.

Project 365 {week 19}

WHEW!

May 5: Listen To Your Mother Show in Chicago with a couple of my favorite Jens.

May 5: Listen To Your Mother Show in Chicago with a couple of my favorite Jens.

May 6: First steaks on the grill.  Cortney was VERY proud of the grill lines.

May 6: First steaks on the grill. Cortney was VERY proud of the grill lines.

 

May 7: Teacher Appreciation Day

May 7: Teacher Appreciation Day

May 8: Tulip Time Parade with my little Dutch boys.

May 8: Tulip Time Parade with my little Dutch boys.

 

May 9: Another evening of Tulip Time...this time dinner from the street vendors.

May 9: Another evening of Tulip Time…this time dinner from the street vendors.

May 10: Three hours to myself to get my hair cut and colored. Bliss.

May 10: Three hours to myself to get my hair cut and colored. Bliss.

 

May 11: Celebrating one of my best friends for her birthday.  So many laughs with this one.

May 11: Celebrating one of my best friends for her birthday. So many laughs with this one.

During this time of year, life has a tendency to feel like we are racing so fast we may start to tumble all over ourselves…

but it’s the kind of too fast and tumbling that you giggle through because the “end” is so close.

Happy Mother’s Day.

How I do Blogging Completely Wrong

The other day I tweeted that I have been doing this blogging thing for almost six years.  Six years is a long time to stick with anything, especially when you tend to be a quitter like I am.  I tend to start things all gung ho and then after a strong start it pitters away due to lack of time and interest.

But not my blog.  Nope. I started Sluiter Nation in 2007 and I’m still going strong.

Except, I’m not really doing it right.  In fact, according to most of the blog tips I’ve read in 6 years and all the tip-type posts I’ve pinned (and even written myself), I’m doing it COMPLETELY wrong.

Oh I’ve learned a lot about how to do it “right” over the past six years…and sometimes I’ve even tried, but well, I just can’t stick with all these rules.

I compiled a list of rules and how I fail at them.  This way you will be able to judge me accordingly…heh.

Comment, Comment, Comment! – The first rule of blog club is to talk all about blog club.  Everyone knows that reading other blogs and actually commenting when you visit is what helps your visibility in the blog world and builds relationships.  Those things make people want to come to your space.

I used to be SO good at this, but somewhere in the last year of having TWO children and a full-time job, not only do I struggle with trying to read the blogs I love, but I almost certainly don’t have time to comment.  People are going to forget Sluiter Nation exists if I don’t get out of this spot and wander out and say something in other spaces, but right now, I just don’t have time.

Be Social! – Speaking of being all over and visible, I have definitely neglected The Twitter, The G+, even The Facebook (not my personal one, but my blog one). I try to share my stuff and other people’s stuff and interact, but oh my goodness!  Most days I am either teaching and don’t have time, and most evenings I fall asleep while putting Eddie to bed.

Be Consistent! - I used to have a fairly solid posting schedule.  I would write in the evenings, schedule for midnight, and promote as I could throughout the day.  I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I post two, maybe three times a week lately.  I write when I can, and save often instead of pounding out a post in one sitting.  I usually hit publish when I am done writing instead of scheduling.  I am not even a little bit consistent lately.

Offer Partial Feeds in Readers! – Theoretically this drives traffic to your site because people HAVE to click through.  I’ve never done that because it annoys me.  I like to read posts in my reader…especially if I am on my phone.  So to all of you who read me in a reader, I get it. I’m not going to change to partial feeds.

Learn SEO! – What? Oh Search Engine Optimasomething?  Yeah, keywords, meta somethings, and making yourself come up in searches and having Google “read” your site.  Um, I installed All In One SEO Pack over a year ago. I still don’t know what I am doing.  (and I sort of don’t care).

Make Your Posts “Pinnable”! – I have a hard enough time coming up with a picture for every post (as of typing this, I don’t have one for this post.  Unless caffeine is pumped into my veins or I do speed in the next 20 minutes, it’s probably not going to happen).  And when I do manage to get a photo up and pin it to mah boards, it goes nowhere.  Nobody repins it.  I mean, I don’t blog about fashion or food or quick tips or anything.  I’ve had others tell me that you just have to be on the right “community boards”. I don’t even know what that means.

Comment on YOUR Comments! – Oh sweet readers…how I wish I had more time for this.  I definitely choose commenting on your comments here over commenting on other blogs, but you see…time is a poop-face.  Mostly because I don’t have any. I know people like to see interaction. I do.  And I know it helps people want to come back, but if I have to sit and think of a response, I feel like I am doing it just to do it.  I also want to give genuine responses, not something canned and there only for the sake of doing it because I “should”.

Almost six years of blogging…I feel like I should be doing this thing better.

Or maybe not.

I started this blog to avoid mass emails updating family and friends about us.  And then I learned I loved to write.  Then you guys found your way here and it was more than just a little journal, it was something people read RIGHT NOW, not only something my children will read SOMEDAY.

So maybe I am actually doing it just right.

Moving Forward

“You seem to be in a place where you can now decide if you are done,” she started to say as I started to shake my head, “or if you want to cut way back on our visits.”

I started picking at the seam of my pants with uncertainty.

Three years ago I finally told my doctor something wasn’t right and got help. Two years ago I started talk therapy with Dr. Melissa.

One year ago I had a relapse with my postpartum depression.

But I have been feeling really good the past month or so.  Like really good.  Like…dare I say…”normal”?

My last visit to my psychiatrist was approximately 3 minutes long.  There was nothing to discuss other than he didn’t need to see me again for 12 weeks and here are the refills on your prescriptions until that time. Have a great summer.

And then there was the therapy visit.  We talked about being in a good place.  We talked about putting my care back to my GP and away from the psychiatrist. And then she said that thing. About being possibly done.

That can’t be right. I can’t be done. Not yet.  Not with so much uncertainty out there.  I mean…what if I have another break down?  What if the day after we decide I am done, I need her?  I need therapy?  I need…to not be done?

Last week, eight days after that therapist appointment, I read a post by a blogger that encouraged her readers to come here…to this place…to Sluiter Nation…to learn “how to move forward” after having a postpartum mood disorder.

Me?  Showing how to move forward?  How to pick up the pieces and go on with your life?  That is a big responsibility.  That is a big compliment that I could possibly be well enough now to be a role model for Life After PPD.

Is that me?

Am I now in a place that is Beyond PPD?

I still take my medication.  I still have anxiety attacks, but I know how to spot them coming and what to do about them before I am throwing potato chip bags at my poor, confused husband.

However I can’t remember the last time I had a depressed episode.  I’ve had funks that I have been in, but nothing that I would say qualified as actually being depressed.

I have never thought of myself as being “past” that phase until this weekend. For one, I realized Charlie is almost 14 months old–I am not considered “postpartum” anymore.  I know that seems like a mundane thing…like a “who cares” kind of label that was just shed, but it’s sort of a big deal to me.  I’m out of that “first year” phase.  Any of my mood stuff is not associated with “postpartum” anymore.

And I do still have mood stuff.

Friday night after Cort’s graduation ceremony we were herding the kids home waaaay past their bedtimes and I was struggling with some breathing exercises because I could feel the panic of a full weekend ahead of us rising in my chest.  Instead of giving in to it I just informed Cort that I was struggling, but that things would be Ok.

He tried to tell Eddie to stop talking so it wouldn’t bother me, but I recognized that while his incessant constant chatter was bothering me, he was just being a three-almost-four-year-old who hadn’t seen his parents in over 12 hours.  I said, “it’s ok. He can talk,” and I closed my eyes, leaned my face against the cool window, and breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth.

When we got home, I went right to the bathroom to collect myself.  I put my jammies on and heard Cort insisting Eddie go downstairs and wait for him while he put Charlie to bed.  Eddie was not having it (you know, because he was over-tired and missed his parents).  I weakly called out, “I’ll put him to bed.”

Cort was insistent, “you don’t feel good. I can do it. Really.”

(Side note:  That guy takes SUCH good care of me.  I am a lucky lady.)

I pulled myself together and went downstairs to where Cort was helping Eddie with brushing his teeth.  “Really, babe.  I want to.  It’s just laying by him.  That is what I should do if I feel bad anyway.”

So Eddie finished up and we hopped into bed 90 minutes past his bedtime.  We chatted quietly for about 5 minutes, he announced he couldn’t sleep and within 2 more minutes he was sawing logs with an open mouth breathing heavily into my face.

I smiled.

I pulled his blankets up a bit further, kissed his smooshy cheek, and told him I loved him.

And then I was fine.  The anxiety attack had passed.  I could handle the busy weekend.

It was just one weekend.

And the busy was good busy.  We would have such awesome experiences.

It’s Monday morning during my planning hour.  I am tired.  Over-tired.  Normally this would be the first step to depressed, but I don’t feel it this time.

I just feel tired.

So I will go to bed on time tonight–probably not post anything here tomorrow–and get a good night sleep.

And I will be myself again tomorrow.

I still have anxiety.  I still deal with OCD. I will still have depressive episodes.

But I am beyond PPD.  I am more myself now than I have been in four years.

Am I ready to be done with talk therapy?  No.

But I am willing to cut down to once a month and move my prescriptive care back to my GP from my psychiatrist.  And even though that might sound like a boring little tidbit, it’s sort of a big deal to me.

It means that I haven’t just shed the label of postpartum, I have also gained more of myself back.

And that is a big deal.

*************

PSI Blog Hop Badge

• If you need immediate help, please call the National Suicide Hotline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255)

• If you are looking for pregnancy or postpartum support and local resources, please call or email us:

Call PSI Warmline (English & Spanish) 1-800-944-4PPD (4773)
Email support@postpartum.net

Project 365 {week 18}

Oh look.

I didn’t forget that I had a blog.

Yeah, sorry about the light week.

Or, if you are behind in reading, you’re welcome. I totally did it on purpose.

For YOU.

Ahem.

Anyway.  The week.

April 28: So this happens now.

April 28: So this happens now.

April 29: One of our family fave recipes. Nothing about this is healthy or organic or paleo or whatever. It's just yum.

April 29: One of our family fave recipes. Nothing about this is healthy or organic or paleo or whatever. It’s just yum.

 

April 30: I had a terrible day.  But this guy? He has spooky glasses.

April 30: I had a terrible day. But this guy? He has spooky glasses. Game on, indeed. Also…Bird legs photo bomb.

May 1: How we celebrate the first day of May: hot dogs on the grill with white.  Nothing but class up in here.

May 1: How we celebrate the first day of May: hot dogs on the grill with white. Nothing but class up in here. And Bird arm photo bomb. Kid gets around.

 

May 2: Just a quick stop at our local wooden shoe factory. Wait. You DON'T have a local wooden shoe factory? Weirdsies.

May 2: Just a quick stop at our local wooden shoe factory. Wait. You DON’T have a local wooden shoe factory? Weirdsies.

May 3: Graduation day!

May 3: Graduation day! (hey, what about blue shirt photo bomb back there?)

 

May 4: Our Godson turns five and throws a Nerf Day Party. Battle on, yo!

May 4: Our Godson turns five and throws a Nerf Day Party. Battle on, yo!

I almost had an anxiety attack this week thinking about all that was on the calendar.

And today I will be in Chicago for the Listen to Your Mother show.

So much going on.

All good, but…so much.

Also four weeks (18 days) left of school.

Not that I am counting.

I am totally counting.

Happy Cinco De Mayo, kids.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...