Category: Personal

Calling It Quits

~ K ~ 1 Comment

I’ll break you down
I’ll take you down, down
Fill you with sadness
Make your life madness
— Fauxliage, “All the World”

It’s 1:11 am. I went to bed at 9:30 and I cannot sleep right now. I woke up restless, agitated, and irritated. I am almost always restless, agitated, and irritated these days. My patience is a thin layer of ice. Every day, I have thoughts about suicide or just not being around anymore. This doesn’t seem like a temporary regression. I feel like I’m practically right where I was in late September sans the panic/anxiety attacks.

Let’s be frank, here. I don’t want to live anymore. I’m tired of the different medications, I’m tired of the insurance hoops, I’m tired of the trial and error. My emotions are being torn apart and people tell me to “hang in there” until this science experiment yields some kind of solution.

I slog through my days, trying to deal with simply living. Making coffee, brushing teeth…basic tasks are difficult again. I’m writing this post through sheer force of will but I want to sleep. But not enough time has passed since I awoke from tossing and turning.

All I can think of is using a gun. Quick and easy. I know that method would offend many but it’s the only form of suicide I know that will be effective.

And I’m tired of talking about suicide. I’m tired of threatening to kill myself. One day, I’ll make good on my threat.

The imperfect, structured prelude

~ K ~ 1 Comment

Critics at their worst
Could never criticize
The way that you do
No, there’s no one else I find
To undermine or dash a hope
Quite like you
And you do it so casually, too
— Aimee Mann, “Nothing Is Good Enough”

I am my own worst critic. And the negativity and criticism have reached critical level in my head to the point where I have seriously considered suicide. I even had a plan, too. Won’t tell you what so I don’t give any ideas to others who might be vulnerable but it was a plan I was comfortable implementing.

I have cried a lot recently. Cried over my self-worth. Cried over the time PPD took me away from my child. Cried over my difficult relationship with my child.

I guess it’s kind of bad. I have this “Christian” faith in God. But when it comes down to it, the faith that once helped to keep me alive I have now, in actions, abandoned. I haven’t really found a good excuse to stay alive. Except for my husband. I know he’d be devastated without me.

And I mean, devastated.

On September 29, I enrolled in a partial hospitalization program (PHP) in attempt to avoid full hospitalization. (The last time I was hospitalized, I was almost sexually assaulted.) My actual PHP began on September 30. Insurance has approved 10 days in the program and I have only been able to attend 5 out of 8 days so far due to medication side effects and illness (the worst migraine of my life that lasted at least 48 hours).

I have been dealing with a lot of anxiety too. It prevents me from doing the most basic (and annoying) tasks. I had an anxiety attack over balancing my checkbook, checking my personal email, looking at my reactivated Facebook account. I refused to even try checking my work email for fear I’d get sucked into flipping out of work projects and concerned emails from coworkers.

My husband has repeatedly expressed his desire for me to live. I want to honor that. If for no one else, I am going to attempt to fight back against my suicidality and negative thoughts so he can enjoy the rest of his life with his life partner. I feel fight in me right now. I can’t promise that I’ll feel fight in me on Monday. But I’ll try to hold on to this feeling.

I was enrolled in a PHP after my full hospitalization back in 2006 and I don’t remember it being half as good or effective as it is now. While it was structured back then, it is even more structured now. There’s a pattern to it. A 50-minute pattern that I appreciate. It starts off with the full group participating in either yoga (Mondays and Fridays) or mindfulness meditation. Then we break off into 2 groups for a daily check-in where we rate and discuss how we are feeling that morning. Subsequently, the 2 groups combine for a class based on a specific topic, such as core beliefs, shame, self-care. (Quite honestly, this is the one “class” where many of us nod off. Sometimes it’s boring but sitting there as if it were a class is sleep inducing.) After that, we have lunch and then head into open group where we can discuss anything that is on our mind or help someone who is particularly troubled or struggling that day. Finally, we end the day with mindfulness meditation again and a “check-out” that allows us to rate how we are feeling at the end of our daily PHP.

Quite frankly, I never appreciated structure until this program. I always disliked structure because I felt like things would become “routine,” which of course was the point. I preferred variation, changing things up, and never knowing what might come next. But as I’ve gotten older, lack of structure bothers me. It drives me nuts. Life with a toddler is anything BUT structured. Never knowing each day whether I’m going to work late is NOT routine. Structure doesn’t have to be precise or exact. Group doesn’t always end exactly at 12:20 pm before lunch like it should. Sometimes it ends at 12:17 pm. Sometimes it ends at 12:25 pm and cuts into our lunch a bit. And that’s okay with me. It’s a simple reminder that life doesn’t always go according to plan, and I can get back on track as soon as I am able.

My PHP experience is teaching me quite a bit. I’m learning to forgive myself and be patient with myself. To not be so quick to criticize myself when I screw up or to spew negative words at myself when I’m not perfect. I’ve identified a few core beliefs that are extremely negative and cause me to feel worthless and hopeless. I’ve learned that shame causes me to be impatient with myself, to not settle for being anything less than “perfect,” and causes my inner worth to feel tainted.

I’ve also identified several aspects of self-care for myself. I’m not sure how to incorporate them daily but weekly may have to do. A few activities that I consider to be self-care include the following:

  • journaling or blogging
  • listening to secular music in the comfort of my home
  • reading
  • writing a short story or novel (yes!)
  • spending time with friends
  • praying
  • reading the Bible
  • listening to Christian music that inspires me
  • attending church regularly and being part of a community

To help manage much of my anxiety, I have learned breathing techniques and grounding techniques. I never knew there were actually tangible things I could do to calm myself. I’d rather use these techniques before popping a Xanax.

So my PHP has been extremely helpful for me, and I’m really trying to absorb all of the information provided to me. I’m not ready to return to work yet. I still need to get my medication adjusted to the right dosage that allows me to function regularly (eg, lack of day drowsiness, lack of extreme morning grogginess, absence of headaches and nausea). I still have a weird jittery side effect whenever I’m still or at rest so I’m hoping that eventually goes away.

One of my primary tasks is deconstructing the core beliefs about myself.

  • I can’t do it.
  • I don’t fit in.
  • I’m a loser.
  • I’m worthless.
  • I’m not as smart or talented as others so I’m no good.
  • I’m boring.
  • I’m not important
  • I’m not capable.
  • I’m stupid.
  • I’m ugly.
  • My thoughts are dumb.
  • My opinions aren’t wanted.

I’m having a moment where I feel like many of those things aren’t true. But WOULD TO GOD if I always thought that way. The first step to breaking down my negative core beliefs is simply identifying them. Somehow, I’ll need to move from there. (I have a handout about this but it’s riddled with spelling and grammatical errors so I’ll have to find something on the Internet.) 🙂

There’s a better story
Of true love of true grace
There’s the hope of glory
And our first chance to be truly brave
It’s the place we’re going
When we can’t stay where we are
— Sara Groves, “Rewrite This Tragedy”

~ K ~ 3 Comments

Right about now, I should be posting about my mid-year goals. But this year has sucked so bad so far that my mid-year goals are what I want to write about least.

Are the basic things okay? Sure, my entire family’s healthy (for the most part) and we’re all alive. We have food, shelter, and water. We’re doing great on that front. In fact, I’ll even let you know that we’re financially more well off than we’ve ever been.

But I am miserable. I wake up every day wishing I were dead. What I earn does not make me happy except for the few seconds twice a month when I see how much has been direct deposited into my account. I am able to distract myself with Facebook and Twitter. But when those things are gone, I am left alone with my thoughts. And my thoughts cannot figure out how to escape. How to extract myself from my current situation. I cannot even brainstorm a decent way to commit suicide.

The year started off great. On January 2nd, one of my best friends and I spent the day in Philly taking in Independence Hall and enjoying a few beers at a bar featured on the Food Network. Then January 5th came. And then every weekday after that. It all felt like a nightmare. Being excluded. Not fitting in. Dealing with catty women. My current work situation takes me back to high school and the questions that I grappled with then: Why doesn’t anyone like me? Why won’t anyone go to lunch with me? Why won’t anyone hang out with me after hours? Am I not cool enough? Am I too weird? Is something wrong with me? I showered today but did I not soap well enough to eliminate any odors?

In early April, the senior editor left and I became the only editor in the entire agency. It’s not a big agency, only 28 people, but there’s enough work flowing through that I cannot handle it alone. I have found egregious mistakes in the final round before things have gone to print. On Friday, I found an egregious mistake on a piece that has already been printed and will cost the agency hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars. (Likely thousands.)

In late February, the agency hired a new supervisor for the copy department. She has been difficult to get along with. At every moment I think she’s a cool gal (she’s going to San Diego Comic Con this year), she does or says something that upsets me. She seems to have cooled off within the past few weeks but I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. I feel like I can’t get too comfortable anywhere.

People at the agency I thought I was friendly with have distanced themselves from me. People only discuss business with me. No one takes a real interest in my personal life. (Not that much is going on but I am a person with various interests too, I think.) I make an effort to discuss personal things with others but the sentiment isn’t reciprocated.

My son is a man’s man. He loves daddy and grandpa. When he hurts himself, feels sick, or tired, he gravitates toward daddy (when it’s just me and daddy around). I always thought I’d be the one to kiss his boo-boos and cuddle with him when he’s not feeling well. I always thought I’d be the one to put my child to sleep, play with him, watch TV with him, and take care of him. He likes me sometimes but not always. I’m not who he clings to. I don’t even feel loved by my own kid. When he was first born, I felt like I couldn’t bond with him and now I feel like PPD has robbed me of my ability to bridge the gap created by those first few months. He doesn’t even want me. Sure, he’s familiar with me and I can make him smile and laugh but if you spend enough time with the kid, he’ll gravitate to you too. He’s just a really nice, fun kid. But I’m no one special. And I want to be. And the fact that I’m not kills me. I’d rather be out of the picture than feel rejected by my own son.

My therapist tells me I need to love myself and accept myself. I’ve pretty much decided that’s not happening so we need to find another solution. Loving myself would require rejecting the majority opinion that others have rejected me and have deemed me not worthy of inclusion. Accepting myself would require thinking that my quirks (soft rock love and all) are awesome and what other people think be damned.

I can’t do that. Because I want to be loved by others. I want to be accepted by others. No, not everyone has to like me, but I want someone to extend the invitation to feel included. I want to not feel like a freak and a weirdo around the people I spend most of my time with every day. I just want to be included.

I recently took a test for certification as a medical/scientific editor. It was sufficiently challenging. I wouldn’t be surprised if I passed or failed either way. It was a weighted test with difficult questions counting more than the easy ones. This year has been such shit, I’m sort of expecting to have failed. So I guess I will be surprised if I pass after all. (Even if I don’t, I will make plans to get to attend a conference in San Antonio later this year to try and take the test again.) I keep in touch with the former senior editor and she’s convinced that I passed. She’s one of those people who’s always convinced she’s right. And I hope she is.

My marriage is great, though. My husband and I will be celebrating our 10th anniversary in late August. No small feat! We’ve weathered my reoccurrence of mental illness, infertility, the death of loved ones, job changes, hospitalizations, surgeries, various friendships, waxing and waning spirituality, and so on. To celebrate, we’d like to take in a Red Sox vs. Yankees game at Fenway in July. I will be up there for a patient-centered conference on maternal disorders so we have been able to work it out.

My spiritual life is crap. I pray very little. I rarely attend church. (I’ve been attending the local Roman Catholic Church on and off.) I can’t tell you the last time I’ve read my Bible. I am back to the point where I am probably going to hell but am begging and pleading the Lord God Almighty to accept me into heaven in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ. I’m not an atheist or agnostic. I have been antisocial and have not wanted to engage in corporate worship. Or schmoozing with anyone from church, for that matter. And then there will be the questions: Where have you been? Haven’t seen you. We’ve missed you!

Maybe we should go back. I know they actually miss us. But this stage of life has taken away our energy to socialize weekly and stay out late Sunday through Thursday. (Friday and Saturday are more flexible for us. But even then, the little man goes to bed at 8:30 pm and our community group gets together at 7 pm. What’s the point of going?)

I’m behind on domestic life. My husband does EVERYTHING: laundry, dishes, housework. He takes care of the little man when he gets home and stays with him through the night (No, our little man is not sleeping on his own and he does not sleep through the night. He is 16 months.). My husband drops him off at daycare and takes care of him in the morning. I now do very little. I wake up, go to work, spend at least 8 hours there, come home, eat, drink a beer or two, and then pass out. I’m very unhappy with my life. I’m a crap mother and a poor excuse of a wife. Being a freelancer allowed me the time and opportunity to do everything I needed to while still earning an income (albeit, inconsistent and fluctuating). I kept up on the checkbook, did laundry, managed medical bills and made sense of the explanation of benefits from insurance. My desk wasn’t super tidy but I knew where everything was. I kept an eye on items that needed to be restocked. Sure, I was powered by 5 cups of coffee a day but I was efficient and useful. My home has never been pristine but it’s not the mess that it is now (and no, it doesn’t really have much to do with my kid). I eat out every single night. I can’t tell you the last time I had a homecooked meal. We used to spend Friday nights with my in laws and my husband’s maternal and paternal grandmothers. Now everything is disjointed and I can’t tell you the last time I’ve seen my husband’s paternal grandmother (who we used to see every week).

I drink beer like it’s going out of style now. It’s the only way I can relax after a grueling day at work. If I’m honest, it’s self-medication. Alcohol has a relaxing effect on me that my actual medications to manage bipolar illness don’t. If I need to, I will drink beer AND take my medication. I really don’t care. If I get sick and die doing that, I’m actually okay with that. I really am that miserable here.

If you’ve read this far, thanks for reading. This post isn’t necessarily for others to read (although since you’re seeing this, you’re obviously welcome to it) but more of a brain dump for me because I haven’t been able to write.

I miss writing. Blog posts, news articles, creative writing—I miss it all.

Most of all, I miss me.

2015 Goals

~ K ~ 3 Comments

2015I’m super late with posting this, but life and the holidays have all gotten away from me. Anyway, I post these goals for me to review and keep tabs on myself. The one goal I achieved in 2014? Keeping my son alive. That’s all that mattered.

  1. Use the elliptical trainer once a week.
  2. Take a 30-minute walk around the corporate center twice a week.
  3. Read the Bible again. (I’ll probably jump around and read some of my favorite books of the Bible this year.)
  4. Take the BELS examination in May (and pass!).
  5. Take a fun and relaxing 10-year anniversary trip with my husband.
  6. Read 5 books in their entirety.
  7. See 1 movie in the theater with my husband this year.
  8. Lose 30 pounds this year.
  9. Be more assertive about my work and what I can and can’t handle.
  10. Spend more time playing with and taking care of my son when I’m not working.
  11. Eat heathier: Incorporate 1 fruit and 1 vegetable into any of my meals per day.
  12. Attend the Postpartum Progress conference in July.
  13. Pay off my my credit card with the highest balance.
  14. Sock away a substantial amount of income toward a down payment on a house.
  15. Limit fast food, such as Chick-Fil-A and Wendy’s, to twice a week. (This does not include fast casual, such as Panera Bread and Chipotle, or sit-down restaurants like Texas Roadhouse and Cracker Barrel.)

Guard Your Heart

~ K ~ 1 Comment

I am dealing with pain and hurt.

How do I be vague and specific about what’s going on in my life all at the same time?

I feel like I’ve loved and I’ve lost. Like the rug was taken out from under me. That I had no say. That every decision was made for me.

I feel as though I need to walk forward into life trusting few, if any, people at all.

I’m afraid that the ones I’ve opened myself and my heart up to will shatter me into a million pieces. Never to be fully reassembled.

I feel wronged and confused and bewildered.

I embark on a new journey and set sail with an uncertain course. I don’t know whether to keep my heart to myself or to open it up, leaving me open to brokenness again. I feel like I’ve already opened myself up to certain people and I just can’t take it back.

I wish I could. I wish I could be quiet, keep to myself, “normal” me. Busy as a bee. Quieter than a tree.

I don’t know how to slowly unveil myself. All my quirks, foibles, and eccentricities. I feel like I’m sort of a BAM! package deal or a “Nevermind, I pass.”

After years of pretending to be quiet and not showing my true self, I don’t know how to become bubbly and cheerful. I guess.

I’m afraid. Afraid that all my hard work will come tumbling down in a matter of weeks. Will I crumble? Will I succumb to pressure?

I thought I had a family. I did. But then they were collectively taken away from me.

My heart hurts. My heart bleeds. My heart wants so much more. I live hard. Love hard. Live deeply. Love deeply.

It’s a blessing and a curse to be so alive, to give your heart out to so many.

Because the majority of people will break it without care.

I feel so heartbroken. As though I entered a 3-year romantic relationship only to be broken up without a plausible explanation. Shift the blame on me and when I try to do what it takes to make the relationship work, cut me off like a New York driver in rush-hour traffic.

I wanted to make it work so badly. Even if the break was in my best interest, I wish it would have been relayed to me. But now, I feel adrift. Alone. Cold. Without a home.

There’s another land on the horizon. I just don’t know what challenges and benefits it will bring. Will it bring any benefits at all? I’m gearing myself up for challenges.

I need to guard my heart. “Keep thy heart with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of life.” — Proverbs 4:23

And let me TELL you, I have issues.

Things’ll Never Be the Same

~ K ~ Leave a comment

The end of 2014 and the beginning of 2015 have brought a TON of change.

Folks, I don’t handle change well. Not even in the form of coins.

Here’s a brief list of the things that have changed in the past 3 months:

  • I began a full-time job at the beginning of January.
  • I left the library at the beginning of January.
  • I switched my son to a different daycare at the beginning of January.
  • My husband’s department got bought out by another company.

Even though I listed four things above, they’re all major life events. And I’m flipping out over every single one of them.

Continue reading “Things’ll Never Be the Same” →

It’s Getting Better All the Time

~ K ~ 1 Comment

I’m worlds better than I was in August, September, and October. After trying different medications (and getting back on my Vitamin D and fish oil with omega-3s), I’m finally starting to feel like myself again. Bubbly me. Not exactly cheerful but normal. I’m on a max therapeutic dosage for lithium and Lamictal along with reduced dosages of Prozac and Ability. The combination seems to be helping. I just saw my psychiatrist and he didn’t want to tinker with a good thing. I was in such a good mood that I drove myself to and from Philly safely and considered walking into his office as though I were manic. But I decided against that and just let him see my bubbly disposition.

“I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggone it, people like me.” — Stuart Smalley

I haven’t really had suicidal thoughts lately. Not like when Robin Williams died.  It’s like I took his death and internalized it to a point where I felt hopeless. Not like I knew the guy, but he was so vibrant and full of life that I couldn’t imagine living a life any better than he did.

—

I’m looking into a new daycare for my son. I was looking for something a little more local, but I just found out that he shares a crib with another baby at his current daycare. Even though the workers sanitize and put clean sheets down, it still rankles me that my son shares a crib with another baby. He should have his own! It could help explain why my son has been consistently sick with a cold since August.

—

My postpartum depression, I think, is getting better. I’m still afraid to care for my son when no one’s around. But I hope to use a few days in December to take care of him while everyone’s at work and show myself that I am capable of that. I need tackle this particular anxiety head on.

(Insert witty blog post header here)

~ K ~ Leave a comment

“It’s been a long time… we shouldn’t have left you without a dope beat to step to” — Intro by Timbaland to Aaliyah’s song, “Try Again”

I’ve been dealing with severe postpartum depression and bipolar disorder as of late. It’s pretty annoying. I alternate between wanting to live and wanting to die. I’ll spare you the particularly gross details of my condition, but suffice it to say, it’s hard to do much of anything.

I’ve been working as a freelancer from home and it’s difficult to even do that. I have my husband assisting me on a project because I’ve lost 2 days to depression. It’s bloody frustrating.

White Privilege vs. Black Privilege

~ K ~ 7 Comments

The term “white privilege” makes me bristle. (See Matt Chandler’s post on “White Privilege.” I disagree with a good bit of it.)

White privilege is supposedly the idea that white people have an easier time in life than black people.

I want to say white privilege is bullshit. But it’s not. I submit to you, however, that black privilege exists too.

Continue reading “White Privilege vs. Black Privilege” →

What kind of mother do I want to be?

~ K ~ Leave a comment

I’ve gotten over the hump of worrying about my little Boo-Boo in daycare. Right now, I’m concerned about finances. About getting ahead. And I just don’t feel like my family will ever get ahead unless I’m working consistently at a high-paying job. Of course, I have no idea what kind of high-paying job I could do, but I have a bachelor’s degree. That could get me somewhere, right?

Sigh.

I do feel less guilt about putting my son in daycare and in the hands of a part-time nanny for the month. (OMG, I really just said part-time nanny. I never thought those words would ever come from me.)

One thing I appreciate about my postpartum therapist is the practical advice she gives me to make life better for my family. Not jumping out of moving cars ranks high on my list. But putting my son in daycare recently has been a Godsend. Right now, my therapist wants me to focus on… me. Getting better for myself so I can be well for my family. That includes working on my mental health, beefing up my spiritual health, and calming my emotional health. I have been very nervous, anxious, and panicky lately dealing with postpartum anxiety.

—

What kind of mother do I want to be? One who always puts forth an air of perfection or is real and is willing to make mistakes? I need to be real and make mistakes. My mother puts on an air of perfection for me and won’t own up to her mistakes. I don’t want to be that kind of mother.

Philadelphia Climb/Hope

~ K ~ 2 Comments

You turn the radio on
Play your favorite song
And cry
(Cry)
~Sarah McLachlan: In Her Shoes~

I’m battling. Warrior mom FTW (For The Win).

I want to share how my day at the Philadelphia Climb Out of the Darkness event went. It was fantastic.

ClimbOutI met several amazing and inspiring women who had been through some form of perinatal or postpartum mood and anxiety disorder. It meant a lot to me because the women there were able guide me out of darkness and into light. Even, if only, for a few hours. I was able to watch children happily run around, share my story with other women, and receive an amazing massage. I also was able to receive 3 hours of doula care from Main Line Doulas. I connected with a sweet n’ sassy counselor at the Postpartum Stress Center. The event organizer for Philadelphia, Heidi, is an amazing woman who encouraged me with her own story of climbing out of the darkness. And to meet Heidi’s mom, the official photographer, was such a blessing because it reminded me that we all can find support from somewhere.

YahooOutlook

I was originally supposed to meet up with a more local group at Valley Forge but due to communication issues (I’m looking right at you, Yahoo! Mail), I missed out. But that’s all right because I connected with the climb leader, Christy, who is A-MAY-ZING. My husband believes I was able to make a better connection with her as a result of my email snafu, and I have to say it’s been a blessing just getting to know her.

I have to recognize several women in my postpartum journey who have helped me above and beyond their call of duty: in person—my mother-in-law, Chris and my friends Rachael D., Karen W., Christine R., and K.C.; online—A’Driane, Lauren, and the many, many of you who left positive uplifting comments in my blog post, Heaven Can Wait.

Today was a difficult day. I was depressed from the moment I woke up (thank God the baby was with the grandparents overnight) and I could barely get out of bed to brush my teeth and shower. Life just seems so bleak. So many women have echoed in my ears, “It gets better,” and I really hope it does. I’m holding onto the hope of other women.

You turn the radio on
Play your favorite song
And sing out
So loud
~Sarah McLachlan: In Her Shoes~

 

Hanging on by a thread

~ K ~ 2 Comments

Still struggling.

Feeling hopeless. Like a disappointment. Like a failure.

Having someone take care of my son part-time feels like a failure on my part. Like I can’t hack this mom thing.

Oh, and I just got my yearly reminder in the mail: I have a frozen embryo on tap. What do I want to do with it?

I want to discard it. Because I can’t imagine that I can be a good mother a second time around. I’m having a hard time being a good mom THIS time around.

But I won’t. My morals (belief in the value of life and all that jazz) won’t let me do that.

Postpartum depression, anxiety, OCD—all of it—has taken a hold of my soul and won’t let go. I have cried several times this week. More times than I’ve cried since the sixth week of my son’s life.

The screechy crying. It’s like the wail of a dying baby. It never ceases to freak me out. I feel like such a horrible mom for strapping him into the car seat while he’s crying and then the high-pitched wail reverberates through the car sending figurative splinters under my nails.

I still have thoughts of suicide but little impulse to act upon it. Right now.

I’m still here.

https://thisjourneyismyown.wordpress.com/selected-lyrics/by-a-thread/

You Are Not Alone. I Am Here With You.

~ K ~ 2 Comments

(I think this is the month for Michael Jackson quotations. I mean, after all, he did pass away during the month of June.)

Where do I begin?

If you’re reading this after having recently commented on my last post, Heaven Can Wait, thank you. I always felt alone and as though I didn’t really matter in the world. Then came a storm of warrior moms (I can see why they call y’all warrior moms now!) to my rescue. They encouraged me that things will get better. That this too shall pass. That I am not alone.

The sun is beginning to peek through the overcast sky in my life. I’m feeling worlds better than Tuesday. And even better than when Saturday when I replied to many of your comments.

I am working with a therapist at the Postpartum Stress Center in Rosemont, PA and we have come up with a solution that can make me an even better mom: have someone else care for my son part-time. Whether that means part-time daycare or a part-time nanny, it will allow me the space and opportunity to take of myself while supporting my family. While I was pregnant, my husband and I decided that I should be a “full-time” stay-at-home mom and work part-time (I work at a library 2 to 3 days a week). Now, it’s looking as though I will be a “part-time” stay-at-home mom who also works part-time. Perhaps getting another caregiver to help me with my son is not me being a bad mom; it’s a way for me to keep my sanity, keep myself alive, and keep myself involved in my son’s life.

I have a call in to my psychiatrist to see him sooner than July 29. I had been doing so well…

I don’t know how many warrior moms are reading this, but I can’t say thank you enough to everyone for their encouragement. It means a lot to hear from other women who have been where I am and tell me to keep going.

Also, Postpartum Progress is a major resource that I’ve been able to use (and raise funds for!). I also want to send a shout-out to Lauren H. (@unxpctdblessing) who runs #PPDChat on Twitter. That group of women was there for me before I even got help.

I had hoped to participate in a local Climb Out of the Darkness in my area, but I don’t know if that will happen. In the meantime, here’s a video celebrating many of the warrior moms who have reclaimed their lives against perinatal and postpartum mood disorders.

2014 Mid-Year Goals Check In

~ K ~ Leave a comment

1. Keep my child alive somehow after birth (prayer, please!)
IN PROGRESS. We’re 4 months in.

2. Visit New York 4 times during the year to see family
IN PROGRESS. We’ve made the trip to New York twice already.

3. List 3 things that I’m grateful for once a week
FAIL. I haven’t done this at all.

4. Schedule a blog post for each season (minimum 4 times a year)
 SUCCESS! I’ve had a post on this blog each month.

5. Use the elliptical trainer on Thursdays or Fridays once a week
IN PROGRESS. I’m just getting back into the routine of exercising regularly.

6. Strength train on Thursdays or Fridays Sundays once a week after the baby is born (DVD videos)
IN PROGRESS. I haven’t started yet. But I have every intention to. (I need to be able to lift that car seat easily!)

7. Complete 2013 NaNoWriMo novel before November 1
IN PROGRESS. I still have before the end of the year to do this, but I doubt I will. I have very little time to myself.

8. Attempt NaNoWriMo in November
IN PROGRESS. This will be a challenge.

9. Completely revise Getting Right with God by December 31
IN PROGRESS. But I really doubt this will happen this year.

10. Read 36 books by December 31
IN PROGRESS. I think I’ve only read 2 new books this year. Yeah…