And then it was 2015...

Happy 2015! It has been a few months since I've posted. Ryan is now almost 10 months old. He's 23 lbs, speed crawling and bringing so much joy into our lives. He eats everything but baby food. We just feed him what we have for dinner and all is well.  It's actually easier that way.   His sleeping is sporadic and has been ending up in bed with us in the middle of the night. We're so tired that we just let him. I really don't mind since my other kids don't still sleep with us so I know it won't be forever.

Steve is a wonderful daddy and still amazes me daily when I see how much he loves us all.  Life is how we make it and we're doing our best to make the best of our life.  Each and every day is a gift to us and I feel immensely blessed to be here.

My children are my light. I am loving growing closer to each and every one of them every day. Sarah is now an adult, but will be forever my baby. Allison is so grown up and I love seeing how alike we are and also our differences. Tyler is still my sweet and kind baby boy who cares so much for people and animals alike. Ryan is my rambunctious baby who lights up my life from sun up to sun down and often in the middle of the night. haha.

Our family recently obtained a young rescue pup. Steve wanted a dog to grow up with Ryan and we found the perfect one.  Chase is a Malamute, Siberian Husky, German Shepherd Mix. or a Geberian Shepsky. Yes, we now have a designer dog (eye roll) He's so cute and looks like a baby bear.   He's only like 9 weeks old so far and has a lot of training to go but he's such a good doggy for our family.  We rescued him from the Rocking M Ranch in Southern California and picked him up in Temecula, CA . He was one of 9 pups in a high kill shelter and the Rocking M Ranch was able to rescue 5 of them. We were blessed to find Chase.

Looking at myself. I am currently 10 months postpartum. I am at a weight and state of mind in which I never thought I'd be. I initially lost the baby weight but it didn't stay off long. I blinked at it was back on and then some.   Having knowingly had PCOS for the past 9 years, I am well aware of it's symptoms. They have come back with a vengeance.   I first recognized my weight gain primarily around my abdomen since my legs and upper body don't ever seem to change much. Along with that was an increase to my anxiety. I have always suffered from social anxiety but it seems to have begun to worsen.  Next I noticed hirsutism. I HATE even thinking about it but it just started getting bad. Then came the acne, missed periods and sharp pains that feel like ruptured cysts. I have had them before, so I'm well aware of the feeling.   I have an appointment with my OB/GYN today to discuss options.  I want to change my birth control and go back on Metformin.  Metformin worked wonders for me before and when I changed insurance and doctors I just didn't continue with it. I'm hoping my Dr will agree to this.

Along with medicinal changes I have decided to lower my carb intake. Today is day one. I will not post daily posts on social media as whenever I have tried that in the past it just doesn't work for me. I will do this for me and not for public/friend support and the comments and suggestions. I think the well meaning suggestions are what bother me the most. I know people mean well, but I want to do this my way. I have private messaged a couple of people who I know can offer me help and advice but, so far that will be it.   Knowing it's in my genetics and diabetes runs in my family, I believe that a LOW CARB lifestyle is what will work best for MY BODY based on my family history.

I wish everyone happiness and laughter! :)

***update.  I went to my Obstetrician and he was very well educated in PCOS and let me try a new birth control and let me go back on Metformin and was happy to do both. 

A moment in time...

I've always known that everyone's life is a little...or a lot...different than the next persons.  People can act completely different to an identical situation. Who am I to judge how they act, react or other? I'm nobody...yet I'm somebody. I am me. I have my own trials and triumphs and would never compare what I'm going through to what someone else is. It's all relative. Let's comfort others, even though we may not understand what they are feeling. Let's rejoice in others even 'though we may feel their success large enough to celebrate. Because when it call comes down to it...the earth doesn't revolve around "me" or "you". We should all love one another.

Should.

In an ideal world we should.

Some people make it very difficult to love them. To like them. Even to stand them. I know I should ask for strength and understanding when I, fortunately infrequently, run across these people in my life.  At times I feel better when I can just hate someone. I don't really hate anyone.  I really don't. If somebody acts in an evil way I assume they are severely brain damaged and cannot help themselves.  Well...not really...but sometimes. :)~

In retrospect, it's going to be a very short period in my life where I was in close contact with someone who I found out was cursed with an ugly selfish heart.  This person made every day of mine torturous in one way or another for 8 months straight.   I feel quite dumb not catching the signs earlier. One sign in particular was where he told me if I ever contacted an old boy friend of mine he would hire someone to break his back. You see, he's Irish and his family has connections with the Irish Mafia..or so he said. He just needs to make a phone call.  This was a guy I had dated only very briefly before the so-called one-in-need moved in.

It was December of 2011 when I visited an 'old friend' in a hospital. He was nice and friendly and we caught up on old times. We soon realized we could help one another  He needed a place to stay...and I extra money in the form of a roommate. Seemed like a good fit.  I met some of his other friends and even his brother. Everyone seemed on board with this fantastic idea.  Right before he moved in I was told that he wasn't quite where he needed to be (see he had been injured and was currently unable to function like the average person). He would need extra care when I had originally been told he would not leave until he could to just about everything he could before the accident. I was told I would be paid for my services as a caregiver until he could function better. That is...if I agreed.  It wasn't supposed to be long. He would continue to get therapy and soon be on his way.  Sadly, that also wasn't so.   So my New Year 2012 (literally the 1st of January) I became a full time nurse. I took care of grown man and did the things he wasn't able to do. The most exciting part always included blue gloves, air sanitizer  and baby wipes.   I had been frequently told he was able to do this himself, but that never happened. Not once in 8 months. I had done hours of research on people in worse condition than him who could do 100x's more than him. Changing clothes, using the restroom, bathing....on and on. This person who lived with me wouldn't even attempt it. Not even a single attempt.

So it started out with threats from the Irish Mafia which came along with his drinking. He drank. A lot. Not just a lot...but a whole lot.  Bottles and bottles daily. Not small little beer bottles...but those HUGE wine bottles. He'd go through 2-3 a day - probably more when he locked himself in his room. I didn't catch it at first. I started calculating how much he drank.  Before he moved in, he told me he would only drink a glass of wine a night to wind down. I think he's bad at math because he had about 50 glasses a night.   During his Dr apts he'd tell the Dr he didn't drink at all. Or smoke for that matter. He smoked about 2 packs a day, if not more and like I said 2-3 large bottles of wine a day (that's just what I saw when I was home)  I would always tell the Dr in the hallway he was lying and how much he really drank and smoked.   Finally his mom told me he was an alcoholic. Hmm...nice for someone to tell me after he moved in. I have kids. I have me. I found out after he moved in that his accident was a result of his drinking. He's a full blown alcoholic. And when he drinks, he's not one of those funny happy drunks. He's mean. He says and does really mean things.
His Dr finally refused to give him meds unless he quit drinking. He said he would. I banned it from my house.

I don't know why I put up with it for so long. I felt stuck. I didn't know what to do. I learned that every single one of his immediate family members had tried to take him in and he was kicked out of their house for drinking. He was fired from every job he's ever had because of drinking. I began to develop anxiety and have panic attacks. I missed a lot of work. I finally went on disability leave and he didn't like that very much. I found out it was because he was secretly ordering booze from BevMo. They would deliver it right to the door. HUGE bottles of whiskey. Huge.  I have no idea why his liver is even still functioning. It's a miracle (or in my case...a curse)

Going out on disability just made my life worse. (And yes there's a lot I haven't put in here). I couldn't stand to be around him. I asked for help from his family and they refused. One day when he overdosed on meds and was hospitalized his mother told me to let him go and not let him back into my home. After asking law enforcement what I could do...I learned it was out of my hands. He could come back to my home and there was nothing I could do about it. The only legal thing I could do was to evict him.  His mom blamed me for his continuous drinking and failure to get back to normal. I'm sorry lady, he was in YOUR care when he got into his accident in the 1st place. I hadn't seen him in 18 years and it's my fault?  I finally went back to court to try   something else. A judge saw my plea and issued immediate removal  from my home. What a blessed day that was. Blessed day.

He went to a nursing home for a while and after that, I have no idea. I never want to see him again. Ever.

I have to say he never did the bad things in front of my kids. That, I am thankful for. Just me.  There's a LOT more that happened during that time to cause my anxiety and panic attacks. More stuff that didn't involve my special drinking roommate. One day I may be able to share more of that...but for now, this is it.

For those who have my facebook https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10151303395111438.520493.738446437&type=3
Here's the link to the pictures I had taken to the judge along w/ my 5 page statement of happenings I have dealt with.

Here's what he did to my kitchen on fine morning. Took me and my boyfriend, Mike, 6 hours to clean. *sigh*