Womp Wommmp
**enter, this portion was written the week of April 12th**
HII,
Every time I write I say “I’ll do this more often” and then life gets in the way and I don’t but here is an update, almost 6 months postpartum.
To be short and sweet, I’m not doin so hot. Currently.
The past 2-3 months have been pretty rough. I went back to work. I started new anti-depressants. I was preparing for a long over due surgery that was supposed to be tomorrow. Our house construction got hot and heavy. We just have so much going on.
The depression started/worsened around going back to work. The hallucinations returned about a month or so later. Nothing crazy, but also, I guess the appropriate amount of hallucinations is 0? Who knew.
It started as spiders, then earthquakes, then daytime, then progressed from there. I’m avoiding detail because as it turns out, its very hard to talk about when your IN it, as oppose to when you’ve gotten THROUGH it.
But, I am okay. I am dealing with it, and maybe one day I will expand on that.
Anyway, lately I’ve kind of taken a small depressive turn to be honest… and heres why I think that happened…
In February I found out I needed surgery on my right ankle. After about a week of panic, I accepted the idea, and set forth with a plan. This plan was hefty, I would push through march, get ahead at work/home/house construction, and then when it was time for surgery I would use the 2 weeks of medically mandated rest, I would catch up on sleep and mental health/wealth.
This plan was fool proof. I’d even grown to look forward to this very serious, scary, painful ankle replacement surgery.
And then, less than 7 days before surgery, it was postponed to a later date.
I tried everything in my power to put it back on track, and ultimately failed.
And now, here I am. I’ve exhausted myself. I am mentally and physically depleted of energy, and the break I thought was in my near future, no longer exists… and immediately I feel like I am drowning.
** ok, -(pretend you just heard a vinyl scratch to a stop)-, whats up, its April 28th now….**
So, shortly after this was written (the next day, actually) I got the stomach bug… If you have read enough of these nonsense blabberings you’d know that there is something therapeutic about me getting a stomach bug. Its almost like I disappointed my self and neglected my health so aggressively that my body says “ok, watch this” and forces me to rest. Since then, things have improved.
We have made INCREDIBLE progress on the house in the last few weeks. Which has been SO good for my mental health. I used to dread going to the property, it just made me sad, I’d sit with a pit in my stomach and think about everything we lost. BUT now that there is an ACTUAL house (ok more like, house bones, but it looks like a house in the way a skeleton looks like a person, ya know??). Instead of thinking about sadness, I get excited, I fixate on the parts I love and got to create specifically for OUR needs. I look forward to finishing, to moving, to decorating, to feeling like we have a *home* again and not just a *hotel*.
(just to be clear, we don’t live in a hotel, we live in a rent house, but its bare bones decorated/furnished because Reese and I agreed we think doing so is a waste of energy and money)
Also, in the time since this rant began, I have gotten my surgery re-situated. I don’t have a date in stone yet, but itll be in 2 or 3 weeks.
I have changed up my meds, still trying to figure out what works for me.
To be completely honest, while I do feel better, I don’t think I’d go so far as to feeling *great*. I am still really using this upcoming surgery as a crutch to deny myself rest. And I don’t know how to not do that. I have two legs that can walk and operate normally and I am hanging on to my responsibilities by a THREAD, I have no idea how that’s going to get any better when I can’t walk… So I feel like I can’t have ANY wasted time. But in my dumb, hormonal, effed up brain, I say to myself “well, I’m not suicidal, I don’t want to die!!! I love my kids way too much!! I’m not suicidal again!! I just want to lay down for 2 weeks!! I don’t even need to get hit by a car, I actually **HAVE** to do this surgery.”
And when I say that aloud, I see that its still equally harmful and intrusive to think that way. I know that… but the thing about postpartum depression (and depression in general honestly) is that you are so much nicer to everybody else and their situation, but never give yourself enough grace.
So. I’m working on it. No words of wisdom. Just an update. Just know you aren’t alone. That these things are hormonal. That its not your fault. It takes years to physically and mentally recover from having/raising a baby. You deserve grace. And so do I.
Sometimes my therapist will bring me back to reality.
In the past 2 years I –
FINALLY started recovering from the PPD and PPP of having my Son.
I Struggled with Infertility, and underwent hormonal therapy… unsuccessfully
Broke my left ankle
Came off Anti-Psychotics
Broke my RIGHT ankle
LOST EVERYTHING I OWNED IN A HOUSEFIRE.
LOST MY SWEET DOG I’D HAD FOR 13 YEARS.
GOT PREGNANT. WITHOUT MEDS.
Navigated the fire trauma effect on my 3 year old
Had a complicated/high risk pregnancy
Gave birth to a beautiful angel girl who happens to also be medically complex
Spent Christmas eve in the ER with my newborn, struggling to breathe with RSV
Am rebuilding a house (and self-contracting)
Having to learn insurance law, cost accounting, and all the bs that comes with insurance proceeds…
Do all of these things, with our family at least 3 hours away (or up to 9)… we’ve really had to lean into creating our own additional extended family, and we are so so lucky to have all these added aunts, uncles, grandparents.. (but also, if you can pop over to your parents/siblings house and drop the kids off for a few hours, YOU. ARE. SO. LUCKY.)
Oh yeah, also, be the wife, mother, friend I want to be. Maintain a career. A home. A relationship with my family. Adjust to 2 kids. “bounceback” from pregnancy.
That is an insane 24 months. Genuinely, most people won’t endure that in a lifetime. I experienced it in less than 2 years. If a friend of mine, or sister, or stranger on my facebook went through ANY of those things, I’d give them grace. I’d wish them rest. I’d reach out and try to help them in any way I could… Whitney, my therapist, will say all of this, and then ask me the golden question… “so why don’t you treat yourself with that kind of grace?”
Great question.
