Supermom

I have something Dark within me.

I try my best to ignore the Darkness. I tell the Darkness it has no place in my life and I remind myself of all the light I have within me. Most days that is enough to keep the Darkness from enveloping my soul.

I have battled this Darkness for 20 years and right now my resolve is wavering.

A few years ago, I made a promise to myself that I would no longer fight this battle in silence and I started writing about it and posting it to my social media. To this day, I have kept that promise.

You see, I feel that when I publicly address my depression, I give my depression no room to hide. I force my depression out into the light where it has to answer for itself. I take away it’s power over me.

So, unlike most everyone else with a mental illness, I battle mine out loud.

One by-product of battling out loud is that I am frequently called things like “brave” or “Supermom” for choosing to speak when so many remain quiet. However, I really don’t like it. I don’t feel brave or like Supermom and I am doing this for my own selfish reasons.

I am not brave.

I am scared that the Darkness is right about me.

I am scared that I belong in the Darkness.

That I deserve the Darkness.

I am coming up on the 1 year anniversary of my life turning to shit, starting with my health, then a few hard financial blows, then my daughter developing a seizure disorder, followed up by some more hard financial blows. Currently, I am writing this from my office wrapped up in a big blanket, hot tea to the left of me as I am sick with pneumonia. What next?!

But as I sit here, and try to divine what to say, I struggle.

I am drawn to the Darkness.

I feel the pull of the void, but I won’t answer.

The Darkness grows restless inside me.

This “Supermom” feels like she is locked in a room of Kryptonite.

This false warrior is not brave at all.

My composure and my delicate grasp on my depression are falling apart. I feel like I am broken in a 100 different ways but I haven’t shattered yet… but the slightest bit of pressure will cause a collapse…

I have openly talked about my use of cannabis/CBD to treat my auto-immune disease as well as my anxiety. I definitely believe in the healing powers of cannabis. However, in this case, I waiver. I am not sure if I can get myself out of this on my own (like I have done in the past) and I don’t think there will be enough CBD to help either.

While at the doctor for my pneumonia check up, my doctor brought up that I had gained weight and that my smile didn’t touch my eyes. I told her about my life stressors and she brought up going back on Wellbutrin, an antidepressant I am very familiar with.

I accepted the prescription but I have not filled it.

Filling it would be me admitting to myself that I am not okay…

Like I am now…

I am not okay.

I have always said that I am my own worst enemy and admitting that I am not alright to you is one thing, admitting that to myself is entirely different.

I need to give myself the Grace I would give others but I am not there yet.

Friend, I see you.

First, thank you all for reading my blog. I wanted to create a space where I can openly talk about the “hard” things in life and I am working very hard to create that space.

I was inspired to write this entry by one friend in particular and when I decided to write this post- I guess it made me more aware of other friends, and even myself that have also fallen victim to these thoughts.

I hope you see that I am coming from a place of love and want nothing but the best.

Dear Friend,

I know you feel invisible but I wanted you to know that I see you. I see the hard work you put in each and every day because you are me- we are the same.

Each morning, you rise from bed, exhausted. I bet you are wondering if you might steal a quick moment for rest some time in your very busy day before your feet hit the ground.

I bet by the time you pour that first cup of coffee you have abandoned your plan for a moment’s rest in lieu of just going to bed earlier.

We both know that’s not going to happen.

You get the kids ready, it’s difficult because one can’t find their shoes and the other still wont get out of bed. They will just have to buy lunch today- you need to remember to add money to their accounts.

You’re stressed – because you have a meeting with your boss today, who is very much single and childless and therefore not sympathetic. Maybe they will give that promotion you deserve to Jenkins because she’s hungry-af.

Your husband, who has been sleeping gets up, get’s ready for work, grabs breakfast and coffee to go, kisses you on the cheek, hollers goodbye to the kids and is out the door.

Must be nice.

You drop the kid’s off at school, only to realize that child #2 forgot their lunch. You circle back only to run right into Ms. Schwarz, who makes you feel like shit for not every being able to volunteer as classroom mom.

You get to work, late. Jenkin’s eager-ass is already in the meeting and she had time to get donuts, and not just any donut- she stopped and got some bougie donuts that are so insta-worthy you could die.

Fucking. Jenkins.

Friend, I see you.

You finish the meeting, go about your work day which is a non-plus. You then sit in traffic on the way home to pick up the kids. Dinner is going to be a challenge because your husband said he would stop on the way home but now he has to work late and you didn’t have time to grocery shop this weekend.

Nonetheless you manage to find something that the kids will all eat.

Bath time.

Did the oldest have a project due?

Is homework done?

Wait, did I just hear my work email go off on my phone?

Your husband gets home. He’s had a hard day and isn’t very talkative- he complains that the house is messy and goes off to play Xbox with his friends who are waiting on him to join them.

It’s now 9pm and you go take a shower and silently cry.

You cry because you are so tired.

You cry because you are afraid you are a bad mother.

You cry because your husband doesn’t help.

You cry because you work your ass off at work, are entirely capable, and that promotion that should be yours went to Jenkins.

You cry because you feel like a failure.

You cry because you think you are alone in this, that no one else is as bad at this as you are.

Friend, I see you.

I AM YOU.

You are not a failure.

YOU are not a failure

YOU ARE NOT A FAILURE!

Friend, I see you .

I see the caring, wonderful woman that you are.

I see a person who puts the needs of their family above their own.

I see a person who works so hard to do such a good job at work to be able to be that second stream of income for their family.

I see you push your dreams aside for the development of your husband’s and children’s dreams.

Friend, I believe in you and I want you to know that you are not a failure.

I wish you could see your position in the world the way that I see it.

I wish that you could forgive yourself and let go of that fucking mommy guilt.

You are doing the best you that you can and your “best” is good enough.

You are good enough.

Please, please, please know that.

Friend, what I want you to understand is that it is okay to have a messy house, it is okay to not volunteer for the class mom bullshit, it is okay to let Jenkins get that promotion (you and I both know she will fuck it up anyway).

The failure you feel, is self-imposed. I know it is hard to hear, it was hard for me too. Remove the pressure you put on yourself. Quit focusing on the moments in the day where your feel like a failure and look at the moments when you were so clearly crushing it.

Examples: You helped your daughter with her with homework- did you know that she has struggled to learn that topic until you sat down with her? That is a win.

Or what about your ability to MacGyver the shit out of dinner- did you know that your kitchen skills are inspiring your son to be a chef?

Mommy guilt is a self-imposed prison.

Friend, I see you…

Can you see me?