It’s time for me to drop the veil. I don’t write much anymore. Because I don’t have material. I should have plenty of witty jokes about motherhood. I should have plenty of happy anecdotes about motherhood and snarky stories of opening my own small business. But, I got nothin’.
Wait, I do have something. I actually have a couple of things. What I have, I can assume, is a raging case of postpartum depression. What I also have is a severe case of exhaustion and chronic fatigue. More than that, I have excruciating full body pain, uncontrollable anxiety, confusion, memory loss, hair loss, weight that won’t budge, bones that grind together, lockjaw, chronic sinus trouble, ear fluid and pain, dizziness, and a diet that consists of whatever I can throw together in 30 seconds.
I haven’t made this knowledge extremely public because there is a specific type of shame and embarrassment that comes with this. My new business is a healing arts studio. I’m supposed to be a healer, and I’m completely and totally broken. I’m supposed to show people how to manage their stress, and my stress level is so high, I am questioning the existence of my own nervous system. I am supposed to guide people to natural health options for relief and relaxation and nutrition, and I’m reaching for frozen food, wine, and Xanax! I can’t remember the last time I showered, and I apologize if you hug me and happen to notice.
I have heard the best option is to push through, and fake it till you make it. So I go into beast mom mode. I push past little ills and stresses and sleepless night. And sometimes, if I’m lucky, my husband may let me sleep in for a couple hours. But the exhaustion isn’t alleviated. I don’t get days off, vacations, or date nights anymore and I’m lucky if I get alone time when I go poop! I have pushed so far beyond my perceived limits that I have no boundaries. I don’t know my name most days. I’m convinced that the puppet strings are being held up by a giant pot of coffee, because the dark caffeinated liquid is surely the only thing keeping me alive!
Today it got scary. I didn’t sleep well but got up with the baby at 5:30. I woke up the 10-year-old and made him breakfast and was starting on his lunch. Things got fuzzy and the baby got fussy after I fed her. I don’t know what really happened but I woke up not knowing where I was, with my husband asking me what happened. I didn’t know anything for a few seconds. I had collapsed. I apparently passed out on my open dishwasher door. I was able to get up and make it to the couch and text my mom for help.
We need a better support system for new parents. It can’t get to this point. There shouldn’t be a stigma around postpartum depression, and there should be more resources available than our mothers! It was noted on a recent social media thread that the old way in Native American tribes, the women of the tribe would come together to support a woman who had recently given birth. What happened to that?! Maybe this should be a call to action, but I am too exhausted to start it! I have seen multiple moms refuse help when I have offered it. I wish it had been offered to me. I’m almost a year in and struggling harder than ever. I grapple with the thought that maybe I am a terrible mother and I should just walk out the door and never return. I convince myself my children will be better off. That is what depression does. It makes you believe the dark thoughts.
We’ve got to help each other heal. I want anyone who comes to my studio to understand that the reason I know so much and have so many resources for healing is because these are what have helped me make it out alive up until now. I’m healingalongside my clients because we are all in this together. None of us are perfect and none of us should feel this way. Moreover, we shouldn’t feel ashamed or alone.
So this is me. If I seem like myself, I am probably faking it right now, just FYI. If I seem off, this is why. I am working hard to take care of myself so I can take care of you!
Namaste and good night (at 9:00pm, eyelids refuse to stay up).
It Doesn't Hurt 