Mothering and Life in General
Coming Back – The Beginning
I know it’s been a can of crickets around here. I took a break from a lot things. I felt I needed it. So much has happened over the last few months with moving then moving again, meeting other women and their children. Getting adjusted with not running a Home Daycare and with thinking of what really makes me tick.
The last one, which took most of my time while I was away, was mainly my fork in the road. Thinking about why and what is making me so angry and hurt for so long. Dwindling me down and sucking every ounce of life I had left inside. Why did I allow it to get this far and when did I give permission for it to even start. The thought of my being, being on the cusp of the rational and irrational, was I really loosing it, finally?
It was bothering me that even after so many years I was still angry and blamed so many elements on what I felt. I stood on the fence of “What is, just is” and “What if”. It’s been a dreaded haunt around here too. In all of my entries, one major suit is the fact I still felt pain about those 14 days and I just could not understand why. Why was I not happy about today, just because of yesterday? Why did I feel like I was always playing catch up, and why did I always feel like I was losing the race? All I knew was I didn’t want another to walk in my shoes, and that passion drove me through so many posts.
Finally, I felt it was time. I could not just stand beneath this world of a mountain alone and chip away from the bottom. I needed someone I could tell my story too, someone who would look me in the eye and see that there was more pain behind my words, then what this blog could ever do. I needed to tell someone I was drowning and did not want to burden my friends with this anymore.
This mountain was blocking my view from so many things, and weighing me down in life. I needed to give it to someone else for them to help make sense of this. So I made the call, I made the appointment, and with a deep breath I chipped away my mountain with someone I never laid eyes on before.
On the first appointment it was validated that I do show signs of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. As I went through the story over again, it did not a cure to me that I was speaking to another woman, who has yet to start her family. Most people would be leery of this, but in my case I think I needed it (see it does not matter how many children you have :P). Someone who has yet to have a child, can’t look back on mothering to say at least (insert something). It was almost like talking to myself, back in the day, before K2 was conceived.
We spoke about my dreams that I had still at the time, how real they felt, how I don’t think of my thinking as rational, and that sometimes I feel that this blade of grass I am holding is going to break. One day I will fall from this world, and that sometimes, I welcome it. I shared with her what I see in the mirror every single day, and that I fear my daughter sees it too. I fear what I have become, what I allowed myself to become and how that will affect my daughter in the future.
I explained I don’t understand my feelings, why they are so powerful. Sometimes I can’t find the words to give an honest painting about what it really feels like. That I tried to chip away a bit at a time, and how my Facebook Doula Friend was the first who helped me bring out the story. How it feels like such a large task that most often times I give up and walk away, in thoughts of it being just too big for me to deal with.
I felt weird, awkward, numb, dumb, stupid, ashamed, helpless, engulfed. I did not feel like me. I used to be powerful, I used to love life, I used to like to smile, I used to like what I saw in the mirror. I used to look alive in the mirror. I used to. Not anymore. I felt dead. I felt I have run through life with tasks and minor purposes to help me get up in the morning. I was acting out life not living it, and living life felt worlds away. I no longer knew how to be apart of it anymore. I was an outsider.
This all happened from the one selfish act of wanting and needing to be a mother. I could not understand how Postpartum and the relation to me, and where Postpartum stopped and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder started. Then you add in relationship issues. Everything was, just plainly, a messed up blob of muck that I could care not to sort through. However, the need to understand it all, overpowered all thinking.
It was then, at the end of the first session that most of my mountain came down. I don’t know why her words struck in deeper than those of my friends. I asked why I felt this way, and why can’t I just become rational again. Put this all behind me and move on. I have a beautiful daughter, who I love dearly. I am grateful for her, I love everything about her. Why can’t these feelings just go away.
She looked at me and said, “Maybe you have every right to be mad”. Something I often heard from beloved friends. But I was She-ra, hear me roar. I don’t get mad long, and I move mountains. I conquered life and fix problems, kiss boo-boos and nurse tears away. I am the first home of my child, I get the first smiles of the day. I am not supposed to feel this way. Then she said, “You were not asking for very much, you were just asking to have the rights that all other parents get. I never knew it might not be an option to feed my child first, and I would be mad had that not happened. Had I not been able to pick out my baby’s first clothes, or hold her or make any medical decisions for 11 days of their life, I would be mad too”.
Anyone in real life can tell you, I am pretty hard-headed. I am passionate in what I believe in and no body hurts those I love. I am a perfectionist, a motherly figure to most. I am the wing loved ones run too during a rain storm. I am the strong one, the one who has all the answers. And once I have something in my mind, it’s really hard to kick it out of me. I am the bull at heart – strong-willed, if you must. That is me. I will never know why it took a stranger to repeat the same message to me that I have heard from close friends to make me listen.
I left that first session feeling relieved. I called up a dear friend, who was looking after K2 for me. I thanked her in my own little way, because she’s said it too me so many times. I still don’t get why it’s okay for others to feel deep passionate feelings and I have this oxymoron image of the concrete, sensitive persona for me. I am glad I did finally listen, I heard the message, this time it was clear. I went home that night. For the first time in so many years – I did not fear sleep.
So it begins, another chapter in mending. I have a lot of people to thank, and this part of the story has just begun. Until next time, it might be a while. I have to get things done for our holidays, but I really want to share the beginning to closure for me. Deep down I wish it helps no one, but I would not be lucky to be the last to go through all of this.
To those in my life, thank you. Thank you so much for being the ear I used to be. You all know who you are.