People don't understand.
I have often, since having my 11 month old, been in a conversation with someone, only to feel transported into the roles of Brooke Shields and Tom Cruise as he judged her for medicating her post-partum depression.
"What do you mean you don't have the time or energy? It's just a baby. Millions of productive, busy people have babies. It's not THAT much." These are the thoughts I, self-consciously, put to the look on their face.
You don't understand. Every cry is a shot of anxiety flowing through my veins. Every frustrated expression is a pang of guilt that I don't know what to do. Every time he doesn't do exactly what he is supposed to do is a burst of worry that he is falling behind. That is exhausting. It is all I can do to get through a couple of hours sometimes.
It's not ridiculous. It is noble. I keep moving forward. I don't run away or give up even though my survival instincts sometimes tell me to. I stay patient and kind as my mind screams with frustration.
Post-partum anxiety is my beast.
I take a lot of deep breaths. I take a lot of gut checks- "ok, what am I really worried about here? Is that realistic?"
I have chosen not to medicate. I have chosen to face this straight on and I am getting better. But I still have hard times. The threat of bad weather the other day, while my son was at school- away from me- sent me into a panic.
Don't judge me for needing breaks. Don't scoff at what you think shouldn't be that big of a deal. Don't think you have it all figured out.
Respect me. You aren't in my head. You aren't dealing with my inner demons. You don't know how strong I've been.
Next time you want to be frustrated with my running late (because I had to check the diaper bag five times to make sure I was completely prepared for any possible thing that could happen) or my inability to fit what you want into my schedule (because I know my limits and what will happen if I push them too far)- ask what you can do to help and be prepared to do whatever it takes.
Slowly but surely I am getting back to my former resolve and logic but I will never be the same. I now have a piece of my heart living outside of my body and that requires me to be different.
My journey with Post Partum Depression makes me think I'm alone. That no one else out there gets this anxious, or depressed, or just plain unable to function at times. It makes me think that I'm the only person in the world and I'm broken. I'm no longer in working order. I struggle through every single second of every single day sometimes, and sometimes I'm great. Thank you for sharing, and making me feel like at least one person out there understands what I go through on some level.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing, and you are SO not alone. I've struggled with PPA as well, and general anxiety. I know and can even see how completely irrational some of the worry is, but then I worry anyway. It nags and nags at me, and I can't let go. It's so hard. Other people just can't get it, they aren't thinking how you are. Even if you KNOW it's completely off the wall, it doesn't matter. You still feel that nag, that worry, that anxiety.
ReplyDeleteI hope you continue to feel better and better. Some level of worry is normal, or so I hear. :-)
Anxiety is an ugly beast indeed, and my kind (so far) has only been for me, not a child, which I can't imagine. You make it look easy, even if you feel like you don't.
ReplyDeleteI think this is one of those situations where it stinks being so self-aware and thoughtful. The "stupid people" don't really worry about if their child is falling behind or getting fat or whatever the case may be. Even if you didn't have PPA, you'd still be a concerned mother.