Baby Taco: 8 months
I haven’t been ok. I have said it a million times and I will say it a million more but I absolutely 100 percent have not been ok. I have mornings where I don’t want to get up. Nights where I wake up sweating in a panic that something is wrong. I have distanced myself from loved ones. Including my husband who is desperatly doing everything to help. Taking care of Taco is at least getting easier because he’s becoming more and more independent but things have not been great.
I have lost my way. I kept telling myseld that I could just self medicate. Pot seemed to do the trick with my anxiety. I would sneak into the closet at night when Taco was sleeping and finally give myself some reprieve after a long day. But it has only gone so far. The bad thoughts start creeping up again and I found myself in a puddle of tears, snot and heavy breathing. My husband squeezing me as hard as he can to get myself to back to earth.
I finally made an appointment with a doctor. I thought that she could help. It had been years since I had seen someone for mental health and I was nervous. She was not warm or kind. When I told her about my feelings she wanted to baker act me, (hospitalization for suicidal patients), but I refused. Did I not just tell you that the only thing keeping me grounded was my husband and baby? Why would you want to take me away? So she gave me meds and told me that she can’t help since I don’t have an official diagnosis.
Other than the fact that this is exactly what’s wrong with our mental health facilities, the meds seem to help somewhat. I still need help though. I’m trying to get in contact with a new doctor but my insurance sucks. I am trying to see the light in my husband and Taco but when my husbands at work and Taco is napping I get lonely real quick. It seems to swallow me whole. So today I decided to write. Tomorrow maybe yoga. Just trying to keep my mind occupied until another doctor calls. Until maybe someone can diagnose what’s wrong with me.
I feel like since Taco was born, I have lost a sense of self. I can’t live without him now and he is my world. I wake up take care of him, take care of the house, go to work and take care of my clients, take care of my husband. My rolls are wife, mother, massage therapist. But who am I? When is comes down to it who is the real me? Is it a culmination of all those identies that makes me who I am or is there more? If I was stripped away from those roles, then who would I be?
Through this depression and through this anxiety which seems all consuming now, I have tried to figure out what will make me happy. Would it be a haircut? A piercing? Possibly a tattoo? Yeah, that would make me happy in the short term. That instant attention you get from doing something drastic. But life will set in again and things go back to normal.
I have been eating healthy. Well trying. And I haven’t been smoking. Well minus a few slip ups. Does a healthy body equate to a healthy mind? Possibly not because if anything my mental health has gotten worse though I doubt there is any correlation between the 2.
What I can say that through this time, my biggest help and my biggest cheerleaders other than my parents have been my husband and Taco. My husband has done everything he can which included staying home one day so I could rest and try to sleep. Taco, while he does not understand what’s going on is an excellent listener to problems and gives perfect answers to life’s burning questions with his babbling. With these 2 men, I know I will be ok. I know it will take time. It will take medication, possibly therapy and a whole lot more crying until I can figure out where I am.
I can get back to my normal self. But when I get there, will my “normal self” be different? In a way I kinda hope so. Maybe through this I can gain some accountability. Not blame the world for my faults but maybe look inward. To learn how to stick up for myself and for my family. To become responsible. To create a new facet to my identity. It will be a work in process, but with the help of not only my husnand and Taco but with my othet family and friends, maybe I can get out of my own head and back to being me, whatever that may be.