Be Enough Me: Lost

Ummm…it’s been a summer. I’m trying to say that with a smile, because there were lots of smile filled moments, and when I think back over the summer as a whole, I see more happy than turmoil. (Which is good, no? Especially when blending a family together)

Turmoil has been heavy though. This is one of those cases where when it’s good, it’s good, but when it’s bad? It’s very, very, very bad. I lost myself over the summer. I went into mom mode and stayed in mom mode. I tried adding GC into my days, but by the time he would get home from work, I’m so exhausted…

Losing myself is not fun. Not at all. I had little time to write. My desktop grew a few layers of dust and gained a few cobwebs as it sat unused most of the summer. Anytime I sat down in front of it, chaos would ensue. I just couldn’t leave my kids “unattended” even long enough to go pee. At 16, 14, and 12 (not counting Scooby, you know, because the baby is supposed to be a PITA) that shouldn’t be. But it did, and it does, and…

Sigh.

All those ugly doubts and questions worked themselves to the forefront of my mind. Am I good enough? Am I being enough mom, enough wife, enough me? As for the mom part, I had enough of a support system to know that yes, I was enough mom (no, strike that. I AM enough mom.) The jury is still out on whether I was enough wife, but I can absolutely, positively tell you that I was NOT enough me. Nowhere close.

You know that phrase: If momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy? I found it running through my head whenever I was cranky, which was a lot, or irritable, which was weekly, or mad, which was hourly. Man, what an undertaking! The biggest problem wasn’t the disrespect of the older kids, or the constant bickering, or the constant challenges to everything I say (“Isn’t the sky a lovely shade of blue today?” “That’s not blue. That’s turquoise.”). It’s not even that GC spent more time away from home than in it. And yes, these are all major issues, but, like the phrase says:

If momma ain’t happy…

How can momma be happy when she’s lost sight of herself? When she’s shoved her identity behind a label—wife, mom, whatever—so far that it felt like an alien had taken over her body? Who was that woman this summer?

When I write…when I’m doing my thing, I am happy. The whole world can fall to pieces around me, and as long as I’m being me, doing me things despite them all, it’s a bit easier to deal with everything and everyone when you have your own peace inside.

I don’t want to ever do that again. I’ve found the road again and I’m following it closely.

PYHO: The Drama Mama Takes on PPD

PPD…I have some fabulous online friends who suffer from it. When I look back through the pages of time, I’m starting to think I suffered from PPD (post-partum depression) when I was 20. I know my life was hell back then, but…

I remember some friends coming to see me after I had the twins and crying my eyes out because I had no babies to show them. They were still in the hospital in the NICU. The downward spiral I had after that…giving the twins to my parents for adoption, hooking up with a guy I clearly knew was bad for me, getting chased out of town by his friends who wanted to fight me (I still don’t know what I did, but it was probably nothing), moving halfway across the country to run away from my pain, and ultimately, attempting suicide…obviously didn’t do anything to help me get out of the funk.

I had no self-esteem. I didn’t even feel like I was good enough to raise my own babies (though it was the best decision I made for them). I was ripe and open for whatever predators wanted (and they took, gladly).

Today as I write this, I’m wondering if my life would have taken a different course if anyone had noticed. I’d like to think some counseling would have had an affect (and it probably would have) if I’d actually gotten any. Maybe even some medication would have helped. I was stubborn as a teenager though, refusing counseling, and I know I wouldn’t have taken any medication, especially if they said there was something wrong with me.

I have four children now in my care, two of whom showed up just a couple of months ago (almost as if my twins returned to me). I am married, though not sure it’s as happily as I like to say it is. My self-esteem is much better than it ever has been.

Does it ever get better though? Will I always question, “Is this normal?” or “Why me?” for the rest of my life? Will I never be treated with the respect I desire from either my kids or my husband, even after I have removed the doormat on my forehead?

I’ve heard PPD is usually gone after the first year. I didn’t get it with any other children, but even so, I can’t help but wonder if I did have PPD when I was 19/20 and it went untreated, did it set the course for the rest of my life?

I’d like to get off now, please.

 

Please note this is not a self-diagnosis. It is merely questioning a bad period of my life . I have never been diagnosed with PPD or any other mental health disorder.