The year after Tannah was born was the hardest year of my life.
PTSD from the birth and PND that I refused to let anyone in on. I spent a year treading water with bricks on my feet. I managed to fool everyone into thinking that I was OK. Only I knew about the sobbing every day in the shower and the car. I never told anyone that I would spend the entire day curled around my precious babe, watching the clock and counting the minutes until Luke would get home. I found it hard to eat, to sleep and to function.
It became my mission to look like I was coping. I put all the energy that wasn’t going into Tannah (who I loved so much, and I’m grateful I felt that) into the impression that all was OK.
But I thought that I was going to die.
I never wanted to hurt myself or my baby but I was sure that one night I was going to lie down to sleep ad I would never wake up. I truly thought I wouldn’t make the year out alive.
At Tannah’s first birthday party I had written a beautiful speech that was heartfelt and true. But I couldn’t read it all as the tears took over. Everyone was touched that I was so overcome with emotion for my child.
But the truth was I was sobbing with relief. I made it to a year. I didn’t die.
It took time but I managed to pull myself out of the all consuming black hole and little by little I came back.
But the PND itself and all the effort I’d put into coping left me exhausted. My reserves were empty and my adrenals packed it in. I struggled then to get through the day to day with no energy.
I existed on autopilot for a long time. I was grateful when I felt myself return.
Fast forward to now and I can feel myself slipping into adrenal fatigue again.
I have not been depressed but there have been hard times and lots of challenges. Three children and 2 miscarriages in four years. Bankruptcy. Moving interstate and back again. My parent’s health. Harper’s intensity. Luke’s sometimes huge work hours leaving me an almost solo parent a lot of the time. Insomnia.
Somewhere in the last few months I have been able to see my way out of babies and Harper has chilled out and I’m not being woken at night and Luke has been home more and everything seems good and my body has pretty much demanded that I rest. Not as easy as that with the kiddos.
I have been operating like Harry Potter under the invisibility cloak. I’m there and I’m getting stuff done but I’m not REALLY there.
I can feel myself switching to autopilot. Doing all the parenting that needs to be done. Writing lists and ticking stuff off. Emotions are tiring, engaging is hard and I am struggling. I can feel myself withdrawing and I’m worried about where that will lead-last time the numbness took over.
But this time I am aware. I’m taking action. I will not go down without a fight.
Yesterday as I sat in the car, waiting fr Tannah to finish her piano lesson, I looked in the rear view mirror. I saw the sun trying to peek out from behind the clouds. The sun was THERE. It may have been blocked by the clouds but it wasn’t going anywhere or changing. It just kept trying and every so often I got a glimpse of its rays. And I knew that it would be impossible for the clouds to stay in the path of the sun forever.
And I smiled.
{ 14 comments… read them below or add one }
Oh I love this Shae. What you said at the end sums it up perfectly. But autopilot isn’t always a bad thing too. Sometimes it’s a necessity, a force that keeps us going when we mentally cannot so that things still get done and when we finally get the rest we need and can return we have less to catch up on.
I’m hoping your clouds pass soon xx
((((HUGE SQUISHY HUGS)))
I know this must have been hard to write. I’m sorry you are in pain or feeling not yourself. I’ve been there, still fight those demons. I wish I could wave a wand for you.
Hey, I got a gigantic, outrageously decadent computer, which means I have a webcam, too. If you are up for it, I’d love to skype or chat somehow, even if it means revealing my many chins and horsey teeth to you. Much love to you. My skype name, btw, is amy.bradstreet
Sometimes just getting through it, on auto pilot if that is what it takes, is what you have to do for a while. And if you still know the sun is there, even when you can’t see it… you get through ok.
We can be AF’d together … Even a nice balance, unengaged autopilot and the crying teary windmill lol jokes aside, we really need to team up to prioritise our individual recoveries xx I will hatch a plan.
Wishing you lots of strength to get past those clouds.
You have explained this so well, I feel like this but am unable to express it so well. I have got to the point where I can’t even decide what makes me happy any more. Thanks shae
I reckon it’s a special kinda brave keeping on even though its seeming so hard. Hope those clouds move on soon for you.
Xx
Yes. Yes to everything. I’ve been there done that & am fighting autopilot everyday. I remember nothing from when #2 was 6 weeks old until around her first birthday. I’m learning that it is easier for me to push when I’m surrounding myself with other amazingly crunchy mamas and realizing that some people will never grow up or learn empathy. Fight on sister.
Oh, I can so relate to this brave and inspiring post. The autopilot is still my default reaction to any stress, but like you, I have learnt to stay present and fight the darkness. I hope you have tons of IRL support that truly supports YOU. X
I’m slipping too. I’m surprised I’m still functioning, TBH. It’s only March and this year has just been… well, it’s vying with last year for worst year ever. Sure it could get worse but on the end of the year like LAST year it’s all too much.
I have to take action too, but it’s so very hard to take the first step.
All those difficulties really build up over time. Stress really takes it’s toll on your body. You know I get this. Please call me if you want to talk about AF. I’m taking a great combo of supplements at the moment. It really helps. Love and hugs xox.
I just popped over to give you some LOVE x
Thank you for sharing. You have described what I have been feeling and unable to put into words, even in my own head. So Thank you Thank you Thank You. You have given me much to think on, and given me some light.
Thank you for putting yourself out there and writing from the heart.
I know a lot of mums relate and can feel peace that they are not the only ones.
___
I remember one day praying so hard that I would be a better mum, and my answer came with nature as well.
As I looked out into the dark sky outside, the moon and stars appeared for a moment behind the darkened clouds and then hid again.
I understood that like the stars and the moon, the good moments were there, they were always there, I just couldn’t see them.
I started making a real effort to notice and be grateful for all the little things that were “hidden” before. It was just what I needed to do to get me out of my slump.
(I don’t propose that this is a message for you, we are all on our different journey, I just wanted to share a message that I got from nature as well.)