Don’t Be Like Tiff, Pt. One

This isn't my normal blog post. This is raw and real and it's how I write when I forget I’m trying to build a business here and just write what my heart says. So you won't get any advice out of this one other than don’t be like Tiff. It’s just me letting my sometimes confusing thoughts and words roll out onto the keyboard. I’m not editing a fucking thing other than punctuation and spelling so you’re getting what you get. Including F-bombs.

You might not get anything out of it but you might learn that it really is worth it to try to stay but only if you have the right tools and the right information and if both of you are on board to do the work – and I mean the real work – of getting to know yourself and each other and to figure out how the fuck to be human with another human. Or maybe if you’re just starting out and you’re still pregnant you’ll take heed and remember my story as a cautionary tale of what not to do and what to do instead.

I want a fucking do-over.

I lost a baby.

I got pneumonia on my honeymoon.

I had to do IVF to get pregnant.

I had to have a C-section instead of a home birth.

I got postpartum anxiety.

I’m divorced.

Fuck this. I want a do-over. 

I’m divorced. And while I have not missed the black cloud of dread that loomed above our home when we were still together I do regret and mourn the loss of the family I’d hoped I’d have. 

There are so many things I'd do differently and I want to share them with you. I want to share them with you so that maybe you won't make the mistakes I made and maybe you can save your family like I wish I could’ve saved mine.

The first thing I would do if I got a do-over is go get a neuro-psych evaluation and have my husband have one, too. 

I used to just think we weren't good communicators or good at relationships or maybe we chose the wrong person or maybe we just both sucked or maybe he did or maybe just I did but what I definitely didn't think was that the fucking problem was our lack of understanding of our own neurotypes. 

I say this because now, five years after he filed for divorce, we have finally learned how to talk, how to work together as a team, how to co-parent, and how to see and hear each other and have empathy for each other and see each other for who we really are – humans who are trying our best. 

If only we’d been empowered with this information and found the tools we need to make our life work — maybe we would still be together, maybe we’d both be closer to living the life we’d wanted to live, and maybe my kids would have been on more adventures and maybe we would have a home that’s not half finished everywhere you look, and maybe my son wouldn't be struggling as much as he is with school with life and with himself, and maybe my other son wouldn’t worry about money all the time because his mom is divorced and can’t keep her fucking mouth shut. 

If only we’d known.

If I’d known it was my AuDHD that was causing my problems, I wouldn't have spent years sitting next to him on a therapist's couch getting absolutely nowhere. I wouldn't have spent years sitting alone on a therapist's couch talking about how shitty and joyless my life felt. I wouldn't have wasted hundreds and thousands of dollars on therapy that never did a fucking thing to help us learn how to be humans who were building a life together.

I wish we’d been able to figure out a system that would have addressed all the things I was struggling with –

The mental load

The injustice of inequity

My inability to explain to him why I was so angry all the time

The lack of time alone

And the postpartum anxiety and rage I didn’t know I had

— could’ve been alleviated

Because the truth is I was living the exact life I wanted to be living. Except that my husband and I had grown so far apart that we were more like roommates than partners and we were more adversarial than supportive but the truth is that I like taking care of people. I like taking care of my family and I actually liked taking care of my husband until it began to feel like it was my job and just something that was expected of me but I didn't have the words to communicate it back then so I didn't and it just led to resentment and then divorce. But now I am too busy trying to build a business to even take care of my kids half the time.

We needed help.

But there was no one to help us and trust me I looked. I looked everywhere and I tried all the things and I read all the books and blog posts and asked all the questions but no one could help.

And trust me I thought I was doing the work up on my high horse like “I'm going to therapy I’m doing everything I can’ but no no I wasn't. I wasn't because I didn't know what else I could do. If I’d known, I would have done it.

But what it all comes down to is that I am an ADHDer. I am autistic. And I didn’t know it so instead of addressing the root issues like my different communication style, my RSD, my PDA and all the things that caused friction between us, I spent time in blame and in struggle with him as if we were enemies.

We fucked up. And it sucks. Because I imagine how much more joyful and present of a mom I'd be and could have been if only I’d been able to make the growth I've made since receiving my diagnosis.

I no longer blame myself. I no longer blame my ex-husband. And we are now finally able to talk to each other and understand each other because we are vulnerable and honest about when we understand and when we don't and we are clear about our lack of clarity and that has made all the difference.

I have more to say but I need to stop because I can’t really see through my tears anymore.

And since I am actually trying to build a business here and make some positive change in this world, I’ll invite you to take the Postpartum Anxiety Risk Assessment so you have a little bit more information that just might help you. And if you don’t know what some of those acronyms I used are, scroll through my other blog posts, starting with the one just before this one.