I am the oldest of 4 girls. Our Dad’s first. And an oops! I am a people pleaser and always striving to exceed expectations, my own and my parents. I’ve always wanted to just make my parents proud and happy. The only time I remember ever receiving praise and approval from my dad was when I tucked him into bed because he had had too much to drink. Even then it was a passive aggressive compliment.
I have always, and still do at times, put those I love ahead of myself. I know this isn’t healthy and I’m learning that my life is equally as important as anyone else’s.
Life was always highs and lows with my dad, which I know now is a VERY common occurrence with depression. I was always worried about my dad, I hoped I was wrong, but deep down I knew that he would somehow leave us one day, in a not-so-great way. Some of my best memories of my dad were at the beach. And ‘My Girl’ was always the song choice on the way to the beach.
Dad gave us the funds to access any and all education we wanted, and travelling was never a question, it was always a yes!! My Dad always wanted a boy and when the first grandchild was born, and it was a boy, there was some excitement! My precious boy was born in December 10 ❤️ and then came the postpartum. BABIES ARE HARD! BREASTFEEDING IS HARD! MARRIAGE IS HARD! ADULTING IS HARD! LIVING CAN BE HARD! Six months later was Father’s Day and that was the last breakfast, smile, laugh, hug, eye roll, and kiss that we ever got from our dad. Unanswered phone calls... Messages... All the bad thoughts... Anger... Oh no, what if…? Our dad passed away one week after that day.
Postpartum plus my papa bear dying turned into a spiral of so much confusion, all the questions, and ZERO answers. Then the wave of anger that took over was beyond explanation. Of course, you hurt the ones you love most and by lashing out at all my most important people it caused me more guilt, anxiety, stress, and further relationship strain.
What a vicious circle. So, in a puddle of uncontrollable tears, I went to my doctor. Tests, questions, and hello antidepressants. Fine! It’s fine. This won’t be forever. The struggle with life, marriage, and children continues; this is not easy!! Is it supposed to be this hard? My marriage was strained, and I felt like I was trying but just couldn’t get to a happy place. Things were better, controlled, but I was still struggling. Good times, bad times, highs, and lows. Why does everyone’s life look so much easier than mine? And then … oops! Hello sweet baby girl.❤️ So, I stop the pills and I’m supposed to be happy and pregnant and beautiful and our family is growing and it’s so fantastic. Right? But it’s not. I’m scared and stressed, my marriage is already struggling, and I’m so exhausted. Will this make things better?
My sweet girl came into this world like a bull in a China shop! And she continues to take down this world just as strong as she came into it. We spent a week in the NICU and so why not bring on some more postpartum. Let’s just see how much Jamie can take before she breaks!!! At some point, and I don’t remember when, the nurses forced me to leave my baby and go have a visit with my family, you know, for my mental and physical well-being!!! AS IF! Enter depression part two times 1000. Throughout the next two years I struggled. I never wanted to leave this world; suicidal thoughts were never a part of my mental health journey. I want to be here, I want to do it all, see it all, and experience it all. But why can’t I be happy while I’m living? Why can’t the days be easier?
I remember thinking all the time, I just want to be me. I was less excited to work, I slept through meals, there was so much crying. I was surviving not living. My breaking point...
I can’t remember who but one of my amazing kidlet’s asked, “mom? When will the old mommy come back?” What do you mean, I said? “The happy mommy! We want her back." (Insert uncontrollable sobbing, tears, and a further dip into depression.) I called in sick, I couldn’t get out of bed. AHHHHHH HOW DO I FIX THIS? I would leave the house with everyone crying in their rooms. I threw ‘broken’ lawn trimmers into the street. I whipped a ‘broken’ breast pump across the room at my husband. So, to the doctor I go. But THAT was a struggle. I looked beaten up from crying, I couldn’t even talk. He had to try to enter the room 3 separate times to attempt our appointment. I was ‘ugly crying’. No matter how hard I tried I had no control over my body, my tears, or the words that I wanted to speak but couldn’t. More tests. More conversations. Antidepressants again. Woot woot??? So after months we have a dose, and we have a starting point. My amazing doctor, he really is so great, has told me that based on my history, this could be my new norm. Humph! And so we move forward. Kids grow, and it gets easier? Maybe different is a better word. I’m enjoying and craving work again. Enjoying more moments. OMG I’m laughing!! It feels so good to laugh! I look back on the past day, month, year. Years? I can see all my downfalls and often question, what have I done? I get stronger. Strong enough to apologize, to apologize to my mom!!! I laugh more, I want to go out again! I want to talk and do things. I want to be!!! Fully ALIVE! I love this world, I love my family, I love me!
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