I've struggled with anxiety my entire life. If you don't know that about me, maybe I'm a better actress than I give myself credit for... It's a funny thing about being a performance-craving-teacher and an extreme introvert at the same time. I'm really great at presenting this dynamic autopilot version of myself who has it all together. Then again, I guess most people have that skill as well... it's just really exhausting lately, and I can't do it anymore.
I wish this could be one of those "here's how I got through it all" posts, but I'm so completely in it right now. I'm doing all the right things though--I'm seeing the expensive therapist, I'm exercising regularly, I'm taking time for self care, I'm eating those leafy greens, taking that magnesium supplement every night, making my art, staying busy, leaning on friends and family as much as I can without dragging them down... and yet, here I am. Record-high anxiety, a bit of OCD I'm only recently being honest with myself about, and your textbook postpartum depression symptoms (which I'm realizing includes the OCD and crazy high anxiety).
I'm not taking medication, because I know I can get through this if I stay the course. The only thing I haven't done is be openly honest about it and maybe that's part of why I'm drowning in it. I'm usually all about the real talk, but it's just never gone this deep for me, I guess. And maybe drowning is hyperbolic, but certainly staying afloat has never been this hard for me. I've got this greasy basketball for a life raft--that's a better analogy. I'm doing it. I'm highly functioning, productive and convincing (?)...It's just taking a shit-ton of effort and instagram filters, you guys.
This time is hard. Keeping tiny humans alive takes a lot of work on not enough sleep. Stay-at-home-mom life is not for everyone, and I do not thrive on it. I work part-time and fill my schedule with as much as I possibly can, and employ babysitters and lunches with friends, etc. etc, but these days where I'm home in my pj's during naptime and there are a million things I should be doing, but I'm paralyzed with the need to stare into space (or the internet...same thing)...and the day stretches out before me like a dang desert. I find joy and peace in my children's laughter, but it doesn't flip my switch. I'm still just a floundering mess inside these days. The self-care breaks are great, but I'm right back where I started not long after. The grass seems so much greener on the other side of my fence. Like a 9-5 job to occupy my brain all day would be heavenly, but all this "free time" I have is all I ever used to want... I reveled in my breastfeeding relationship with Elliot, yet I'm yearning for Jack to turn one, so I can wean him and see if this is all just a funhouse mirror fueled by hormones. I just want to be able to turn up the music in the car and dance like a maniac at red lights again. I think that's how I'll know I'm myself again. All this energy to seem okay to others results in a lot of vacant staring when I'm alone.
I don't know what I want anyone reading this to say other than "me too" either. I appreciate words of "here's how I got through it all" for sure as well. I've been hearing some good ones from some lovely friends lately, and maybe I'm just craving more. "It's okay," "this is normal" and "Girrrrrl, let's make a lunch date" are real nice, too. Fake sympathy and support from a place of judgment aren't fun and super transparent though, and I know I'm risking sharing this with people who don't get it or don't really care about me in their hearts, but whatever. I can alway just talk about my periodic need for attention via bouts of superfluous honesty with my therapist next week.
