Sunday, September 28, 2014

Things That Cannot Be Unthunk {PPD Part 6}

Earlier posts in this series:


I've been waffling about sharing this part. It's personal. Like, really personal. But I think the possible benefits outweigh the risks, so here goes. *gulp*


If you, yes you, stumble across this post and are dealing with suicidal thoughts, please tell someone. Call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or talk to a friend or family member you trust. You are not alone.

This is where I was almost two years ago.

***

Ultimately, I didn't listen to the midwife.
One, two, THREE. Beautiful little humans.
But she got to me. Boy, did she ever.

My worst fears were confirmed. It was my fault. All of this. My inability to cope. My inability to attach to my child.

I simply wasn't good enough.

There was no escape from the problem because the problem was ME. 

Despair. Guilt. Shame.


I thought a thought. I don't know where it came from. It was just there in my head one day. And it could not be "unthunk."


I thought about killing myself. 


Relief. Control. Freedom.

I could give up, if I wanted to.

Rationalization. I wouldn't have to see my child die (I was still convinced something would happen at this point). My family could replace me with someone not fundamentally fucked up. There was no way out of this, anyway. It was for the best, really.

Lies. 


And they came with massive amounts of shame. I was afraid if I told anyone about these thoughts, I'd be in a straight jacket in a padded room faster than you can say, “mentally unstable”. Of course, the shame was a lie, too, a clever one designed to keep me from dragging everything out into the open and examining it in the light.

It was depression. And it was masquerading as me. Trying to make me think I had a choice while it worked in the background to take all my choices away. Using my screwy hormones and wacky brain chemicals. Reminding me of all the reasons I wasn't worth the air I was breathing.

Lies.

This is the part where I'm going to be like, “Do as I say, not as I did.” I should have gotten help. I wish I would have. But I was choked by shame. Afraid of judgment. Convinced it really was all my fault.

I was wrong, though. It's taken me this long to figure it out and accept it and forgive myself for my perceived “shortcomings” (actually, I'm kind of still working on that one). 

It wasn't my life choices. It wasn't my circumstances. It wasn't a base character flaw.

It was depression.

And if any of this sounds familiar to you, please, please, please listen to me. You are valued. You are loved. You are special.


Don't let the lies win. 

Tell somebody.

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Monday, September 22, 2014

Where We've Been

Hullo peeps,

We're alive and well despite my radio silence around these parts. I've been doing lots of weird stuff like going to counseling and examining my life and trying to figure out who I am. Yeah. Weird.

Two weeks ago we went on a little vacay to Colorado Springs and I thought I'd share some pictures, so ...

We spent the first day at the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo. It was really, really cool. So cool I forgot to take pictures. I got this one, though. Evidence of the phenomenon that occurs every time I say, "Look at the camera." Every time.

coloradospringsco

K liked it, too. Sort of.


The next day, we went to the Garden of the Gods.

Read: I dragged three cranky children and a husband around in the hot, hot sun because rocks.

Whatever. I liked it.

coloradosprings

We even got a family picture. #miracle

Miracle of Miracles

My hat is dorky. But skin the color of a tomato is more dorky.

Then we went to an arcade in downtown Manitou Springs. That place is AWESOME.




If you're ever passing through, hit it up.

We ate. And ate. And ate some more. No pictures of this. You'll just have to take my word for it.

And we bought nine, yes, NINE rubber ducks as souvenirs because we're I'm weird like that. This one is the best.

On the way home we went over Independence Pass and crossed the Continental Divide.

Colorado

Colorado

Spectacular views for the low price of tearing holes into your upholstery in terror. Those switchbacks. Yipes.

A few nights ago, when Grover was putting the kids to bed, T told him, "We're going on vacation again next week."

"Really?" Grover replied. "You paying?"

"Yes," T said.

"We can use my piggy bank."

*sniffle* I'm calling this one a success.

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Tuesday, August 26, 2014

The Edge

It got hairy there for a while, guys. And not in a Pierce Brosnan kind of way.

In a holy crap what is going on in my brain and why am I thinking like a crazy person and crying all the time kind of way. The best way I can think to explain it is that I fell into The Nothing, pushed by hormone imbalances and depression and things I've refused to deal with for a long, long time.

I'm approximately a thousand percent better than I was a few weeks ago, but there's wreckage to sort through. I kind of feel like I went through a mental hurricane and now all that's left are foundations and junk and trash and random cats. I'm bedraggled. Broken. Waterlogged and confused and not sure how to proceed.

But I am alive. So there's that. And that is BIG. Bigger than the fact that there are random cats all over my brain.

I'll talk about it some day. Probably. Maybe. I'm not really sure what to say. I need to reflect and let it simmer and make deductions and whatnot. I think maybe writing about PPD was a trigger, so I may put that on hold for a bit. Or I may not. I don't know. I'm just kind of going with the flow at the moment. Breathing. Feeling. Smiling. Realizing just how cool this life thing is again.

One thing I do need to say is "thank you". I know with absolute certainty that without my amazing family and friends, I wouldn't be here making Pierce Brosnan chest hair references. They kept me anchored in the midst of the storm.

So thank you.

Thank you for pulling me back from the edge.

Thank you for not flinching even a little in the face of my dark twistiness.

Thank you for the jokes and the kind words and the prayers and the hugs and the smiles and the love.

Thank you for the kicks in the pants.

Thank you for helping me find my spark again.

I love you all so very, very much.
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