b a r e

writing is healing. ask me anything.

Tag: help

sick

I hate this. I hate the way my body feels. I hate the coughing. I hate the diarrhea. I hate the not being able to sleep. I hate the exhaustion. I hate the nausea. I hate the runny nose. I hate the congestion. I hate feeling weak. I hate having no energy. I hate disappointing my husband. I hate scaring my child. I hate sitting here crying out of self pity while trying to eat scrambled eggs so I can have something healthy in my system. I hate how an illness can bring me so low emotionally. I want to go home. There’s nowhere to go but the adult home I’ve created. I want my mom to take care of me. But my real mom wasn’t a good mother, so I really don’t want her here. I want some mythical home and mom that doesn’t exist. I want an escape from here and now. I want someone else to make the decisions for me. I don’t want to be. I don’t want to exist. I want a reprieve. I want someone to take care of me. But I’m the mom now. I have to take care of myself. And I’m so tired. So so tired.

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recovered?

A new mom asked this in a forum:

“Is there really an end to this.. Like 100% healed? I feel like what I have is too disturbing and terrible to ever go away.”

My answer:

I went through an outpatient program at a hospital and they talked about accepting a “new normal”. Now, I refuse to accept that this means my new normal is misery. But I don’t think we can ever go back to the person we were before we had our birth/postpartum experience.

Like any trauma, it has left a mark on our psyche. And so we have a choice about what to do with that. I’ve tried wallowing, and that worked for a while, but it got in the way of joy. I’ve tried hiding from the world, but I missed out on living.

So I’m at a place in the middle between where┬áI used to be and the pit I had dropped into. Sometimes I need to wallow, and I give myself space to do so. But I don’t move back in there. Sometimes I need to hide from the world, and I accept that, that I don’t have the stamina of the extrovert I used to be. But I also challenge myself, just a little, and over time I see progress towards a new me. Wiser, stronger, but also weaker in some ways, and accepting of that part of me too.

And my story, and yours too, becomes something we can share with others who are somewhere along that tough journey of losing yourself and trying to figure who you are now. We bring each other strength because we have compassion and empathy and help heal each other. Because we understand the pain. And we’re not alone anymore.