So... despite my best efforts, if there are such things when it comes to this, I think I'm ready to admit that I have a bit of PPD this time around. Not extensive, but I've just had a lot of feelings of guilt/inadequacy, a lot of confusion, and a lot of anger about feeling this way in general.
Why the anger? Well, for starters, the "normal" me would be telling myself "It's okay, everything will be fine. Go see a counselor, take care of yourself and things will get better." This was my reaction the first time I had depression, whenever my anxiety has flared up, and the first time I had PPD after Chance. I'm usually more than willing to admit I need help, and more than willing to ask for it.
But this time around, that sensation has been met with a lot guilt and anxiety.
Why?
Well, despite having several friends and knowing people I could reach out to, I'm ashamed by so many things. The state of my house, that I'm not as strong as all the people I know on Facebook and in real life who didn't have PPD (fucking Facebook... it's wonderful in so many ways but horrible in so many others). I feel isolated because I don't have neighbors or people from church who just JUMP right in to help out despite my protests, nor do I have siblings close by who can help out. In fact, despite the past six weeks being a time when I could use assistance and time to rest... I usually end up helping other people out even though I need help.
I have people I could reach out to... but I isolate myself so much that I'm scared to do it. And anyone I meet that could potentially be an ally I get scared of. It works kind of like this comic...
Also, it probably doesn't help that I had numerous people tell me before I got pregnant "Oh, you don't want another kid it get so hectic," and "Why would you want to start all over again?" that I worry about these same people going "Didn't you ask for this?"
*Heavy sigh* Let me make this perfectly clear. I LOVE being a mother. I wanted my Chance, my Catelyn, and my Alex more than I wanted anything... ever. I knew as soon as I could reproduce that I wanted to have children, and that I wanted to be with those children all the time.
But loving that and wanting multiple children doesn't mean I'm going to be perfectly able to handle everything all the damn time. I worry/fear, and am rightfully pissed off, that there are people in my life that are supposed to be my friends who would probably think "you asked for this" if I admitted to them I feel overwhelmed, or that I wish someone would just jump in and help out a bit.
The sane part of my head says "Fuck them... that's stupid. You would offer to help them out and be supportive if they were in the same situation, and if they're going to say or think that than THEY need therapy. Fuck them."
The not-so-sane part of me says "Well, you did ask for this... why can't you be perfect? Why do you have so many questions? Why do you worry so much? You're not cut out for this at all, are you?"
My biggest fear is that both sides are right - that I am not cut out for this, and I have assholes in my life.
Part of me sometimes wishes I could have myself as a friend. I'm loyal, I'm supportive, I'm very kind. And the other part of me thinks that I'm flaky and pull out of things when I get anxious so I would suck as a friend just like I suck as a parent, and a wife, and a human being.
While I realize that it's important for me to ask for help and be honest about what I need, I'm also pissed that I know numerous people who just jump in and help others out, but no one will override my anxiousness or say "I'm coming to your house at this time and I'm going to make lasagna for you," or "I'm coming over with coffee and we're going to talk," or maybe just "I'm coming over... I don't care what your house looks like, I don't care that you haven't showered today... I don't care that you need to see your waxing gal... I don't care. I'm coming over because you need someone."
Even though I stress that people aren't mind readers, and I know people aren't mind readers... it would be really nice sometimes if people were mind readers - or emotion readers.
It really sucks being socially anxious and guarded, especially when you don't make friends easily. People usually see me as super nice and friendly, but I have the hardest time making friends. Or... maybe I just try to make friends with assholes... it could be either way.
I'm going to wait 24 hours before I post this just to make sure that this isn't exhaustion.
*&*+)*
Well, I waited 24 hours and I feel no different. If anything, I feel angrier, and then even guiltier about feeling angrier. I also found an article today that both made me feel a little better and made me angry. The article was about needing to love yourself, which I understand and completely agree with.
Problem is I'm really beginning to think I'm psychologically incapable of loving myself, recognizing my positive traits, and appreciating me for me. For some stupid reason it has to come from outside sources, which... I don't have and shouldn't need. I shouldn't need someone to tell me I'm okay, or that I'm a good parent, or a good person, or any of that stupid shit. It's trite and ridiculous and childish and selfish and abhorrent behavior.
I think I blogged about that already...
I think I just need a hug. A hug and someone who knows me, like really knows me, to remind me that I'm not useless or whatever else I think I am.
And I think I need a counselor.
And I also think people need to remember that mental illness is real, and it requires treatment, and we often can't - literally can't - help the way we think/feel. Here are more comics that demonstrate that... because I cannot explain in words what it's like to recognize how crazy this, and not be able to do anything about it.
see in particular #4, #9, #16, and #18,
No comments:
Post a Comment