Two years ago, I had these grand plans to write a blog about my emerging from postpartum depression like a phoenix rising from the ashes. What I hadn't bargained on was that, 2 years later, the struggle would still be ongoing and there would be no grandiose rise from the depths of my darkness. While I feel stronger for my battle, the war is nowhere near won.
I thought I had found the miracle drug last fall, and then it gave me super high blood pressure, so I started over from scratch. I just sent an email to my psychiatrist asking to try a different medication because I'm just not there yet. It's so frustrating. I was lamenting my struggle in the shower this morning, wondering why I couldn't just have it easy...just once.
Truth be told, none of us truly have it easy. We are the editors to our life story on Facebook and Instagram. Our homes are always clean and our faces always smiling. We are SO in love, SUCH good parents, living our BEST life in some exotic locale. We all know that isn't the case, yet we are profoundly affected by the lives we see others living on social media.
You want the truth? Those pumpkin patch pictures, for instance...I was on day two of a horrific sinus headache, and spending the afternoon at a dusty and windy farm was just about the worst idea I've ever had. The Little Lord of the Manor hadn't napped, and he was a nightmare by the time we got to dinner. The pictures don't show me popping Sudafed and Advil like a crackhead, just trying to get through the day. They don't show me picking my toddler up off the floor of California Pizza Kitchen over and over and over and over and over again....then picking up his crayons off the floor so someone doesn't slip on them over and over and over and over again....rinse and fucking repeat.
So, let's cut the shit. Life is messy, and it's not even remotely perfect. Dealing with depression and anxiety can make you feel isolated, like every other fucking person is #Blessed and you're just some asshole who can't appreciate the good life you've been given. It makes you feel like a failure in all areas of life. Why can't I have more patience for my child? Why am I so tired all of the time? What exactly is my purpose in life if I can't be good at at least one of the things that I'm juggling?
Fortunately, my darkest days led me to my current career path, and for that I'm eternally grateful. That was the conclusion of my ruminations in the shower this morning. This too shall pass. Maybe the next med change will actually work, the most recent change definitely got me closer to level than I've been in a while. With the most recent med change, I noticed something I had never really seen before. I noticed that the carpet in Ethan's room was worn in front of his changing station, and I smiled, thinking of all the time we spent there when he was a newborn...all the diaper changes...and bedtime routines. Then I wondered, how long have I been trapped inside of my head? How am I just noticing this?
I'm putting this out there, because a lot of people struggle with mental illness, and as a sexual assault survivor the last several weeks have not helped. Not at all. I want those who are out there in the shadows to know that you're not alone. It's OK to get help, talk to someone, and even take meds. There is strength in reaching out, and asking for help is not a sign of weakness.
Take a deep breath, and this too shall pass.
