crazymama

It has been exactly one year since my body gave me a giant “Fuck you!” in the form of PPD/OCD/Anxiety. In case you missed it, here is where that adventure all began.

http://18yearsandcounting.blogspot.com/2008/08/into-abyss.html

It has been the scariest thing I have ever dealt with in my life.

And it is also something I will never, ever be cured of.

I would like to say that the worst of it is behind me, which I really believe to be true. I don’t have panic attacks any more. My days aren’t consumed in spirals of obsessive thoughts so tragic and scary that the idea of suicide seems like a welcome relief from their torture. Yep, suicide. From the woman who volunteered for two years at a Suicide Prevention Crisis hotline. And trained volunteers there…on how to talk people down from committing suicide. Yeah, it was that bad.

I am beginning to realize that coming out of PPD for me is like joining AA is for some. Depression is a disease that doesn’t just go away. I really have to”work the steps” to make sure that I don’t fall into that abyss again. There are good days and there are bad days, even now. Unfortunately, I find that picking myself up out of the bad days to be harder now.

Does it sound strange that I am almost glad that this happened? Because it sounds strange to me and yet here I am thinking (typing) it. My life is different now, but seeing how badly this all could’ve turned out makes me grateful now that I am just here.

Even on the days:

When I am irritated with my children, feel like the worst mother in the world, imagine what a disappointment I am, relive the stupid shit I have done in the past, do petty things that I should be above (like gossip, tell white lies), and generally get on with the mucky part of being human and fallible.

When I am feeling low I basically just remember that normal low can’t really touch PPD low. Because, HOLY FUCKING SHIT, PEOPLE, I AM ALIVE! I am breathing! I am here! I made it one year! Yes, I am shouting this because it is so monumental. One year ago I might not have thought it would be possible to ever be here. Even be doing something as simple as talking about PPD without feeling like I am drowning in it is huge.

I’m glad I made it.

I still do really stupid things that seem really ungrateful. I don’t give thanks for each moment. I don’t appreciate all my “blessings” all the time. I do wish for time to speed up (while wiping W’s poop explosion from the bathtub yesterday)  or slow down (while the children are occupied and not hanging on my legs) depending on the circumstance. But, as I mentioned above, this is part of the human condition.

I am human. I am still (mostly) whole. I am alive. I am grateful for that. Because that right now is everything.

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