Melancholy. Isn’t that the term that used to me so casually tossed around, to minimize the seriousness? “Oh, she just has a bit of melancholy.”
I bite my tongue incessantly to hold back the sharpness. I struggle to hold on to every ounce of patience so that I remain gentle and kind with my two sweet little souls. I sit in their room late at night holding them, rocking them as they sleep and praying that they’ll feel my love with every ounce of their beings and that I’ll be able to show it to them through the next day, even if I struggle to get through the day.
I wonder regularly what came first – the chicken or the egg? Does being in a constant state of stress set something off in my mind? Does something happen regularly in my mind that makes the normal everyday stresses seem unbearably overwhelming? Does the heat and humidity just exacerbate me so much that my agitation level becomes sky high?
The little things clue me in to my mental state and I hate that they are so regular that they are so clear and obvious to me at this point – the lack of energy combined with staying up later and getting less sleep. The inability to do much beyond absolute basic functions. The lack of patience that is so unfair. I wonder how much of this is normal day-to-day mama struggles and how much goes beyond that and realize that it doesn’t matter. Regardless of which on it is, I am not functioning as the parent, wife, friend, daughter, sister that I want to be in the world. I am not taking care of myself the way I deserve and the way that everyone else needs me to in order to take care of them.
I don’t want to be this way. I recognize it – that’s a start. I struggle to fight it daily and I hate that I feel like it’s a fight, but I’m willing. I’ve gotten a million times better at picking myself up and putting one foot in front of the other and forcing myself to do the things I don’t want to do – for myself and for my kids. Because sometimes that’s the only way when all I want to do is crawl into bed. But it’s still a terrible way to live. And I absolutely refuse.
I’m not sure what it all means, but I do know that I am not the only person who feels this way. I do know that there are so many people who struggle and don’t get the help that they need or feel able to talk openly about feelings like these because of a stigma. I do know that there are people who will judge me for putting this out there in the world on more than one occasion. I don’t care about a stigma. I care about my family and my friends and I want to be full and whole in life in general – not a shell of a person struggling to function and make it through the day. So I felt the need to say it out loud, if for no other reason but for anyone who may be feeling similarly to read this and know that they are not the only one. Hi to you! Hoping you’re finding bits of sunshine and color and happy in any way that you can get it in your day:)