“The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don’t have any.” -Alice Walker
I had been surrounded by my sisters, (in-law) who had just given birth to their sunshine. Smiling faces, and celebrations. But, I was over carrying her. I wanted MY sunshine. And now she was here. So why was it so dark? There were only so many faces and animals and abstract things you could make out in the curtain in your bedroom. “If only she could talk right now.” I thought to myself, alone in a two story home with the chill of fall whispering across my window panes, and no one to talk me out of my inner pain. Just a couple months old, and her father was unsure how to help, but consistently made it worse. (Unknowingly) He didn’t want to “talk about it.” He didn’t understand it, and didn’t know how to handle it.
“The Statistics. According to the Centers for Disease Control, 11 to 20% of women who give birth each year have postpartum depression symptoms”
* Cue first time mom in the 11 to 20%*
I think as women, sometimes we plan things out in our minds just perfect, with the genuine notion that nothing could go wrong in the execution of it. And when life steps in to remind us that we are not in control, our emotions, if not tamed, tend to send out a reaction to our disappointment. Sometimes in a form we didn’t see coming, or seem to feel unable to control from occurring.
They Love To Call Us Unstable Creatures
But, what if we lost our balance from time to time because of an unstable environment? If I had felt the company around me wanted to know what was wrong with me, or could sense it, I may have been open to talk. To express my feelings. And feel heard. A step toward healing. But I was a stay at home mother, with friends who had no children at the time, and family who were scattered about. I was alone. Inside. And that’s just it, right there. People came in and out, friends of her dad, and family to check on me. But, inside, I was screaming, “HELP!” This girl, the one who couldn’t seem to break free from an unmistakable sadness, she wasn’t me. But she wouldn’t get out. I never tried to be a woman who justified her wrong behavior, but this was different. How did I get here in the first place? I had no longer felt the undeniable bliss of possibilities leaping from within. Hope. I had lost hope. And my future seemed non existent, though a miracle had just squeezed it’s way out of my loins, in the form of a girl.
Suicide Nagged At Me
It was a nasty little sucker. And I so badly wanted to answer the call. To follow through. It nagged and poked at me, telling me it could save me, that I would feel no more of that endless pain. That the sun would come out, when I closed the curtains on myself. Lies. I knew they were. And one day, after almost following through in a puddle of tears on the bathroom floor with a kitchen knife, an intervention happened. He saw my pain and called my dad. And his mom. Best decision he could have made…they finally asked me what I was feeling. They reminded me who I was. That I had more power over this imbalance than I knew. And after what felt like a huge breakthrough, I could finally look into her eyes. Like only her mom could.
I willed life into my bones. Life into a heart that felt like pumping was a task far beyond its abilities. I breathed in air that previously felt like a baby bird who longed to soar with a wing, but it was broken. Broken. I was broken, before. Lifeless, life, full of promise and allure, and all I could do was shed tears for my past. Shed tears for the time that was. A time I thought was better. My future stared me in the face with no past. Only me. She had felt my pain. But couldn’t process it. She had felt my love, though she needed to see what that looked like. And now, my future stared, blankly, and I blankly gazed back. I wanted to see it with eyes of wonder, eyes of hope, and faith that I knew I would make it proud. Make her proud. And deep down, I knew, I knew that I could. I had to escape the grasp of regret. The cold, malevolent grip of “what ifs” and “should haves” needed to let go. NOW. I had a life to live, for her. My future. And she wasn’t going to wait until everything was perfect. She was gaining on me with each second she breathed.
Change Is Now.
Not later. Because later may not have come, had I not made that decision.
If you are dealing with depression, from me to you, YOU can BEAT it! I was so low that I didn’t know that level existed, and yet I still got up. You ARE strong enough. You do have enough. You are GOOD enough. Enough. You are enough. Your power lies in your words. Believe you can beat it. That God has purpose for your life. Depression shsmession!!! In making that choice for myself, now, I am alive to tell her the same one day.
Your anxiety or depression can not combat with your mind if you don’t allow it. Fight. And keep fighting. And each day you win, by waking up, you are a little step closer to freedom. Just when you least expect, your light will shine again. You are never alone. They need you. Your child(dren) need you. When you see their smile, and it lights your soul up, remember the Apple didn’t fall too far from the tree. That dope tree of yours. 💕