I wrote the excerpt below a few months ago when I couldn’t sleep. So many sleepless nights agonizing over thoughts that controlled my life. Since then, I can say that I’m in a much better place. Learning coping skills for anxiety and depression have been vital to how I live now. If you’re experiencing any type of PPD/PPA, I strongly suggest you seek out a counselor or therapist in your area. I was at the point of not being able to eat, because I was so full of emotions that I didn’t know what to do with, and I was crying all the time because I felt like a failure. So, please seek help before it’s too late.
Anxiety and depression: After everyone is finally asleep, I can cry myself to sleep when no one can hear me.
After every eye has shut, I’ve checked on all the kids before I go to bed, and everyone has stopped touching me, my feelings finally catch up to me. My husband is fast asleep next to me, I’m tossing and turning, and just like that, the weight of the day slams down on my chest almost leaving breathless. Thoughts of what I did during the day, what I should have done differently, which child I’m ruining, and what’s going on in life run circles around my brain while I’m trying to just catch one so I can pin it down and work through it. But they keep going. And going. And going. All I can do is cry. I feel like I’ve failed my husband, because I can’t seem to get a good meal on the table and the laundry keeps piling up, failed my children because I can’t stop yelling, and failed myself, because I can’t seem to hold this beautiful life together that we’ve created.
One slow tear after another slides down the side of my nose, on my cheek, and in my ear. As soon as they start coming, I try to make them stop, talking myself out of crying, because I should be sleeping. Why can’t I sleep?! Oh gosh, I’ll never sleep! More tears. Stop crying! I’ll need my energy and patience when I wake up, but if I don’t sleep, I won’t have the patience, and then I’ll yell…again…and I’ll make my daughter cry and yell at me. I’m ruining her even more…turning her into an angry, anxious person like me. But she’s only four! It’s not fair. Why can’t I stop yelling? Why can’t I have patience? Why can’t I fall asleep? When did this start and when will it end? I want to raise my daughters into loving, God fearing women, but I’m an emotional, anxious wreck myself. I don’t know why I was chosen to be their mom. God should have known I’d yell at a two year old. Why did I yell at my precious two year old?! I feel incapable of being a mother, and yet this is where I am. I love them more than life itself, and yet I feel like I’m failing them in every way.
I don’t want every word I say to have the weight it does some days. Some days, I feel defeated in my role of shaping these tiny little babes. And then I feel defeated in the way I speak to my husband. I know he’s probably felt like he’s been walking on eggshells a lot recently…and probably for the past couple of years if I’m being completely transparent. Having so many people rely on you is hard, mamas! So hard! This is what I wish someone would have told me. Not that I would have understood. In fact, I probably would have been mad at the person who told me being married and having children are two of the hardest things you’ll do in this life. Worth it, yes, but so hard. I remember when I walked into the hospital in labor, having Hallen, our first, and someone said, “Oh is this your first? Are you in labor? Just you wait…this will be the easiest part!” And I did a huge eye roll as I finally got to my room . “How rude!” I thought. Didn’t that woman know how much this hurt? How hard this was? I was going to do it naturally after all, and I just got here!! But, 4.5 years later, and boy was she right! So, now, I honestly try to take advice in stride. People aren’t trying to hurt me when they make little conversation. They’re really just being friendly! We’ve turned into such a PC world where people can’t even seem to talk without being in fear of ruining someone’s day these days (but that’s another blog post in itself).
What I’m trying to say is, life has just overwhelmed me. And my personality that tries to control every single detail has finally manifested itself into this woman who has numbed out so much so I can just try and get the job done. But since I can’t seem to do any of it perfectly, I’m slowly breaking while trying. It’s something that I really didn’t even know was happening…until it wasn’t. Until I finally admitted to my friend, and then my therapist, and finally my husband, that I feel like life had pulled the rug out from underneath my feet. It’s honestly such a humbling place to be. On my knees. No where to look but up.
There are days that I look back and remember how it was with just one baby. I was so blessed to feel completely normal after having our first. There were no hints of postpartum depression. Having a baby seemed to make life better. Just a couple days ago, I was listening to one of my favorite podcasts. She was answering questions about their baby and saying that, because of their struggle trying to conceive, she thinks it helped ward off any signs of depression, saying that it just made their life more complete. And you know what? I remember being exactly like that! We had waited two years for Hallen. And I almost couldn’t fathom how depression could happen after having a baby. I thought our struggle to conceive helped in the postpartum period. And maybe it did, but even if you struggle to conceive, it doesn’t mean you won’t have the baby blues. It doesn’t mean life won’t come at you fast. And it doesn’t mean it won’t happen when you have your 2nd, 3rd, or 4th baby! The body is a crazy thing, and when you add in situational life events , you might end up with PPD or anxiety or BOTH!
I never thought I’d struggle with anxiety and depression. But guess what…I do. And I have for a long time now. I think it just took me a long time to realize that it was actually a problem. My “new normal” had taken over my identity, and I started being unable to cope. Having three kids, a couple businesses, a household to run, and just living life can wear you out. It can deplete every single thing you have. And that’s what happened. Day by day, my hard exterior began to crack. I stopped going to so many social events, stopped feeling hungry because my emotions satiated me, stopped inviting people over for playdates, or even wanting to talk to my husband at night. And finally, the last curveball got thrown at us this summer, and I broke. I had never felt so shattered. It’s not my story to tell, so I’m not going to share it in this space, but it broke me. We’ve all had an experience or situation we just weren’t expecting. That one thing that doesn’t live right in your face, but whenever you think about it, gives you a lump in your throat, your heart begins to race, and you try to hold back the sobbing, because once you start you know you won’t be able to stop.
Just a few weeks ago, I was finally able to start talking about everything going through my head with my friends, husband, and family. I don’t think anyone really knew I was struggling as badly as I was..as I am. I don’t like to let people in, so I can put up a pretty good front when I need to. You don’t need photos in squares to put up a front. Trust me. But when I talked to my friend about it all one night, she encouraged me to seek counseling, so that’s what I’m doing. I know something has to change, and I need it to. I want to enjoy the little things again, but I know I can’t with this anxiety, depression, anger, and numbness boiling inside. I’m in this hole where I feel like there’s nothing I can do but call out to the LORD. There’s nothing I can do but ask for prayer (and if you know me, I HATE asking for anything). It’s probably going to be a tough road ahead since I’ve really just even started admitting all this to myself, but my family needs me. I need me.
Kristina
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