From the time I started this blog, I made a vow to myself. If I couldn’t be both a. Real and vulnerable and b. Discreet and protective of my family, that I just wouldn’t write.
Some of you have noticed that I haven’t written for months. I haven’t been able to say anything both true and discreet, so I’ve been quiet. The hard part is, life doesn’t pause. Dishes and laundry still need to be done. Kids still need to get from place to place, everyone still needs food, nurturing, attention…
One of my favorite authors, Brene Brown said this, and it inspired me to speak up.
“Vulnerability is not winning or losing; it’s having the courage to show up and be seen when we have no control over the outcome. Vulnerability is not weakness; it’s our greatest measure of courage.”
The truth is that my blog is based on seeking joy in day to day motherhood … which is something I was very good at. Until recently.
May is mental health awareness month. I struggled with depression as a teenager but spent the following years in never ending, exciting change —
Having a baby!
Buying a house!
Having another baby!
Starting a business!
And another baby!
Becoming debt free!
And yet one more baby!
Moving across the country to start a new adventure!
Add, in between those, some promotions for my husband and losing the same 10-20 lbs over and over.
Yes. It’s all very exciting. And distracting. And mostly hopeful.
And overtime, the newness became sameness. And I’ve been forced to look around and wonder why and how a woman of such great privilege (with a beautiful home in a gorgeous neighborhood, surrounded by great friends and support, the most incredible children and a doting husband) has come to feel so alone and wonder who she is and who she ever was and what she ever will be.
When I want more out of my life, I feel ungrateful and guilty, and when I strive for contentment I’m left feeling empty, wondering if the best years of my life are over and gone.
I’ve recently gotten to the point that I no longer enjoy the things I enjoyed. Food doesn’t even taste good. I’m not very fun to be around. I’m a disengaged mother, an irritable wife, and a wet blanket of a friend.
This very morning I started crying when my 6 year old son asked when I was going to feed them all breakfast. Every single thing, even getting out of bed, feels overwhelming.
I was in therapy for months, have learned to meditate, I exercise regularly, etc. After bouts of anxiety attacks as I’m trying to fall asleep, to waking up after 10 hours of sleep and feeling overwhelmingly exhausted, I finally decided it’s time to ask for help.
This afternoon I finally had a visit with a psychiatrist, who has prescribed medication to help with concentration/manage my ADHD, anxiety and depression.
I tell you this now, because it is during the low that one actually shows courage and vulnerability. I could share this with you in a couple weeks or months when I’m (hopefully) better. But for those of you in this hard place, right now, know that I’m here too.
I don’t share this for sympathy. In fact, talking about it with everyone I know is the very last thing that I want to do. I am still my best, happy, smiley self among people because that is where I feel the most “at home”. Right now I’m not okay, but I expect I will be…and hopefully soon.
If you have experience here and would like to share about medications and things that have worked for you, please please reach out and share!