May 5, 2021
Did you know that today is maternal mental health day? I never realized it until my therapist told me about it a few sessions ago. She knows I like to write and encouraged me to share something on it and my experience with PPD. This is not my usual type of post that I share, but I wanted to shed some light on what it’s like to suffer from a mental illness. I hope you find it informational, and if you’re suffering as well, I hope it makes you feel less alone.
My name is Michelle Nott. I am a stay-at-home mom of 4 kids ages 4 and under. I suffer from perinatal anxiety and depression turned to postpartum anxiety and depression. Motherhood is hard. It’s not all picture worthy. It is not just filled with endless love, hugs, and kisses.
No, motherhood is MESSY. Motherhood is NOISY. It’s stressful, exhausting, and oftentimes lonely. It’s filled with guilt, doubt, and lots and lots of apologizing and the words, “I’m sorry.” It’s full of tears, sleep deprivation, lots of caffeine, a search for identity beyond “mom”.
There are so many beautiful parts about motherhood, but this post is not dedicated to that. This post is dedicated to all those moments deemed unworthy of sharing because they’re not picture perfect, or they’re too negative.
Did you know that depression doesn’t just make you sad, but it can also lead to feelings of rage? That’s how it most affects me. Uncontrollable rage. I feel like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Thanks to my medication, I have good days and bad days. Mostly good, although every now and then I’ll have several bad days in a row, which may be because of added stress for some reason, or may be a clue that I need to adjust my medication dosage again.
It’s hard not to compare myself to other moms on Instagram that have kids who eat all their veggies, no sugar, and don’t watch any tv. I wish I could parent like that. I wish I had the time to dedicate to each of my kids and make sure they are caught up with where they should be for their age group. But my reality is that my kids are picky eaters, and if dinner is not chicken nuggets, or peanut butter jelly, they probably won’t eat it. (I still try to feed them other food, but some days I just want them to eat without putting up a fight. I just don’t have the energy to deal with another meltdown).
They end up getting too much screen time, because sometimes I just need a break or need something to entertain them for a bit so I can feed the baby, get lunch/dinner ready, or take a mental break. There is just too much going on all at once to spend one on one time with each kid all the time. There’s only so much of me to go around, and I already feel as if I’m stretched thin.
It’s also hard not to compare myself to my past self. (Insert the Kermit the frog looking at Constantine the frog meme here). When I was pregnant with Theresa, I was great. I worked out up until the day before my induction with her. I was back at the gym by two weeks postpartum. I was able to get up early in the morning (4:30 AM some days!) to get my workout in, come home and shower and be ready to go before Christian would leave for work because that was the only time I could make it to the gym that day. While the kids were napping, I was able to write for my blog, read, crochet, bake or make dinner for that night. I was doing great with my weight loss and was almost back to my pre-baby weight. I had set personal records for my squat and dead lift on max out day. I felt great and was super happy.
Then I got pregnant. And my world came crashing down (literally- COVID hit, Theresa had her surgery, and that added on stress, Christian travelled a lot over the summer and had some exposure scares, Gabriel potty trained over the summer, then I developed my anxiety and depression).
Fast forward to the present, and I can barely get out of bed without 4 or 5 alarms set because I am so exhausted and the day before me seems so overwhelming. I stay up late trying to take advantage of my free time. I manage to get a workout in at nap time, but then the kids are usually up. I don’t have as much time to read and take up my other hobbies as I once did. I still drink a ton of caffeine, possibly more, but I feel like there’s not enough caffeine in the world that can make me feel energized enough to complete all the tasks for the day.
A lot of days I wake up dreading everything I have to do. I dread the noise, the meltdowns, the possibility of failure and lack of patience on my end. I also feel guilt. Guilt for not finding the joy in motherhood. Guilt for viewing it as a job instead of taking care of my family. I don’t always feel connected to my kids. I wish I did. I want to.
I long for the days that I just lived and felt alive. I was thriving last year. Now I’m barely surviving. I feel as if a piece of me is missing. Depression has planted itself into my soul like a weed and it’s casting a shadow on my life. It’s an uninvited guest that I keep trying to force out the door, but much like my kids at bedtime, its finding a way to stick around longer for the party. It’s not ready to go just yet.
When I was finally feeling better, my hope got taken away and was replaced by disappointment. My medication was reduced, only to increase back up again. I could finally start to see the end of the tunnel, only to get lost in the dark again. I was not as great as I had felt. It was the medicine making me feel that way. And that was disappointing. I thought I was ok. I didn’t realize I was still sick.
I have conversations with my therapist during our sessions. I feel like progress was made, until the next time I feel depression creeping back, and then I start counting down the days until my next appointment so I can talk to my therapist again.
I’m reliant on people. I’m reliant on medication. It’s not easy for me to do. I’m not great at accepting help. I’m not the humblest person; I’m stubborn and want to do everything for myself because I don’t like to feel weak.
I’ve talked about my depression before, but I’ve always put a positive spin on the end, the message filled with hope because I didn’t want to worry anyone. I still don’t.
But my reality is that some days, I just don’t feel hope. I feel stuck. This isn’t a positive post. This is my full-on mess. This is motherhood sometimes. This is my sacrifice. My dark period. Sometimes I just need to be negative and vent it out. Then I’ll pick up myself and pray and continue on. But right now, I just need to feel sad for awhile. I need to feel angry. I need to embrace these feelings.
I’ve been fighting them for so long. And I’m tired. I think I’ve fought for too long. God gave me this cross to bear. And maybe its time that I just accept this is my reality right now. I know I’ll get better eventually. But it will take time.
I’m embracing the negative. It’s okay to not feel ok. It’s part of being human. It reminds us that we aren’t home. We are working towards going home and all of these negative emotions serve as a reminder that we aren’t there yet. Because when we are we will be filled with the sincerest peace and joy in our souls. And I can’t wait.
Every day I long for peace. Someday I’ll get there.
For now, I’m in the mess of motherhood. The good, the bad, and the noisy. But God is right there with me. He answered my prayers the other night when I was feeling alone and abandoned. I know He is with me.
I was writing in my prayer journal the other night with tears streaming down my face (it was a bad day) asking God where He was, because He felt far away. Then I picked up my book, The Catholic Guide to Depression by Aaron Kheriaty, MD and started reading where I left off. This is what I read,
“Our Lord not only experiences sorrow but also teaches about it. He solemnly declares in the second Beatitude: ‘Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted’ (Matt. 5:4)…The mourner who perseveres in his non-acceptance of death as the ultimate reality becomes makarios– blessed. In other words, the follower of Jesus in the Beatitudes is hopeful within sorrow and grief, even if it feels like despair. He is hopeful because Jesus is there with him. The phrase ‘shall be comforted’ literally means, ‘to be called to someone’s side.’ The sorrowful are called close to Jesus’ side; they are not abandoned.” (51).
Kheriaty, Aaron, and John R. Cihak. The Catholic Guide to Depression: How the Saints, the Sacraments, and Psychiatry Can Help You Break Its Grip and Find Happiness Again. Sophia Institute Press, 2012.
I read this and started bawling. God answered my prayers. I know He is with me, though He feels far away at times. Even amongst the struggle of life, He is there.
This is me. And this is what I’ve been feeling the past few months.
If I came up with a last minute reason why I couldn’t make a meeting, it was usually because my depression and anxiety were draining me and I didn’t have the energy to go and be social. It makes me become isolated. And I have a hard time making friends as it is without depression at play. Please know that I am not purposefully skipping social events. I genuinely want to go, but I just cannot. I don’t know how to explain it other than how I just did.
Some days are better than others. Some days are hard. For now, I’m just taking it one day and one therapy session at a time.
If you are struggling and are uncomfortable sharing or are nervous to seek help (I was there once!) just know you’re not alone. Depression has a bad habit of convincing us that we are isolated from “normal” people. I promise there are others out there who are in the middle of a battle too.
If you’re one of them, keep fighting. We’ll get there.
