Post partum depression is a monster. It sucks you into a cave when you’re actually supposed to be celebrating this beautiful thing you’ve just been given. Sometimes while you’re in the cave, the monster decides to ooze the horrendous slime of anger, guilt, jealousy, exhaustion. And sometimes the more you try to fight, the more sticky the slime becomes. You send yourself into spiral that seems never ending.
I scroll through social media while I’m nursing and maybe that’s not the best idea when I’m in my cave with my monster. But it kills the time. It seems that all the houses are so well kept, the kids are well behaved already knowing how to speak a second language and working on becoming the next -insert your favorite artist, scientist, designer, etc here- The moms have their hair, makeup done, outfits perfect (what voodoo magic do you have to perform to make it so you don’t have spit up on everything by 10am? Because I need some of that!) But sometimes, I find myself asking how much of it is real?
I’m not saying that you can’t have your days where things are going your way. And if this is how you function day to day, I’m so impressed, more power to you, you do you! But behind the 1080 pixel squares, what is there?
My truth is being a mom is hard. Some days I don’t like it. I feel like crying multiple times a day. I get angry at a drop of a hat or more so the drop of a sippy cup. Most days I can barely shower so I survive on dry shampoo. My perfume (not of choice) is eau de regurgitated breast milk. I’m already tired from getting everyone ready and loading my kids in the car even before I make it to my destination so I don’t want to go anywhere.
Yet, on the flip side, there are dance parties in the kitchen. Working really hard to get baby giggles and getting lots of smiles. The pride that comes with hearing that your child can say their own name. Giggles while water splashes during bath time. And every day, I can’t imagine my life without these two.
I need to share both sides of my life with you because right now, the hard days are a majority of them. One day I hope it might not be like that, but for now it is.
Ultimately, I think we as a culture focus too much on how the world sees us and if it isn’t a good image, then we don’t show it. But some of my most beautiful and helpful relationships are filled with those people seeing me at my worst. They see me when I’m most vulnerable and they still love me. Vulnerability fuels connection.
So even though it’s hard to do, show your true self. Bed head and all, I’ll still love you.
No comments:
Post a Comment