As I’ve over shared previously, I suffer from Major Depression, Anxiety, and ADHD. Oh yeah, and pregnancy which makes my body a host now to four all consuming critters.
Some days I wonder if I’m still in here at all - if there’s room for me inside this rapidly expanding shell of flesh– or if me is now just those things: depression, anxiety, adhd, and baby.
What a horrible thing to say right? Babies are blessings and miracles ! Bundles of joy! Motherhood is a gift from the Gods!
While those things are true, so very true – it’s also scary as fuck to know how much could go wrong. How much I could screw things up for my little girl. How some percentage of moms die in child birth every year, and how X number of babies do too. Stillbirth, deformities, crib death, oh my!…the list of tragedies goes on and on.
Instead of thinking about this beautiful new life I’m growing inside of me, my mind wanders into the dark alleys of what if + worst case scenario. I’ve had to (temporarily) stop doing tarot, my new found hobby, because every card I draw seems to portend some dark end - or at least that’s all this depression fog lets me see.
It’s a bit of a chicken and egg thing, really. The unholy trinity of frenemies in my head, they’ve always been there, since childhood.
Bills and life never gave two shits if I could cope, so even in the darkest times, I still managed to do whatever I needed. Ever since I was 16 years old, living on my own, juggling school, a job, and partying with a much older boyfriend and his winner pals – sure, I was all kinds of fucked up – but my grades didn’t dip below 90 – because I knew my transcript was the only ticket out of my hometown hell.
But the nuclear explosion of hormones and chemicals inside my cells – stoked by pregnancy – has me on my back, flailing around like a dying turtle. (It sounds like a metaphor…but seriously, you should see me try to get up from that position with this nearly fully grown human inside of me, like a scene from Alien.)
Thinking hurts. I’ve spent a month now doing little more than staring at my to do list, overwhelmed by all I need to do before she’s due:
Get all freelance articles done by next week, because labor could theoretically come at any point.
Fix my business so I can hand it off to my assistant – it’s on life support for reasons out of my control, but I haven’t done anything to make it better (which arguably makes it worse!)
Close my dad’s estate which is a complex one – cause it reminds me that he's still dead, and doesn't get to meet his granddaughter. (And - how bad he was with bills, and debt, and updating his will. Left everything to a church he hadn't stepped foot into over a decade instead of the one he loved and preached at before he passed. The priest there said to me: your dad told me he needed to update his will to make sure you and your grandma would be ok, he never got around it. He also suffered from depression. His official cause of death was a heart attack - but, I believe the depression played a big role... another story for another day.)
Learn all about how my boobs become a food source
Get baby stuff
Read parenting books
Tarot course
Brush teeth
Take a shower
Breathe (oh, that one's automated, right?)
The worst part of this is that I’ve been so fucking lucky lately. Truly blessed. A friend is giving me all her baby stuff because her kids are toddlers now. Everything – from her car seat to her crib – that’s $1000’s of dollars I don’t have to spend. Not to mention…what an awesome friend I have! Who has friends like that?
Then there’s unexpected money coming my way – and that’s not even including the crypto accounts I could raid (at least as of today) – but there’s enough to get me through a few months, even if I don’t make a dollar – that’s been the single biggest stressor as of late – and it’s resolved! And I’m having a baby with someone who’s my best friend, and a natural born dad.
What kind of ungrateful bitch can’t appreciate that? Can’t muster up the joy to revel in all that abundance ?
Unfortunately, there’s nothing rational about mental illness. It’s not just a matter of thinking happy thoughts or not dwelling. It’s a real chemical thing that can be paralyzing, physically and emotionally. Depression is depressing – it robs me of my ability to see beauty and blessings. But sometimes it runs so deep – it becomes me.
By purging these thoughts on this blog, it lets me feel like I’m doing something. Like maybe, by publicly getting it out, I’ll be embarrassed into productivity. The blockchain record of my patheticness will spur some kind of inspiration and activity. And actually, if it wasn’t 3am, if I hadn’t spent all day just shifting around the shit I have to do, picking at work emails, making unimportant calls, etc –writing this may have been the start of getting stuff done. I guess it still could be when I come back and look at it tomorrow and realize – hey, that took thought and energy…I CAN do something aside from worrying about all I have to do, and cycling into apathy.
Not putting this out there for sympathy, or a cry for help. It’s just to give a glimpse into the irrational mind of a crazy mom to be. To get it out. Maybe it can help someone feel not alone. Or give insight to a family member/loved one of someone who suffers from mental illness. When you just want to smack em’ and scream cheer up cause they look sadder than Eeyore at a funeral – you know what, go right ahead… that just might snap them out of their own head for a second ;-)
