Every so often, moms who are experiencing postpartum depression and/or anxiety will come to one of my groups. I feel like we as a society have come a long way with talking about PPD, and it's no longer this horribly stigmatized thing that no one talks about. Moms who are having a hard time can sometimes articulate that they are struggling, although what they disclose can vary. Much of the time, moms will disclose what is essentially the "tip of the iceberg" and say that they get no sleep, feel like crap, are crabby and emotional, and they generally don't feel like themselves. This stuff is hard to admit, especially to a group of strangers, many of whom you're seeing for the first time. No doubt about that-- it takes guts and clarity, for sure.
What's often harder to disclose is what may lie beneath that. When I was in the bell jar 3 years ago, admitting what I was going through came with a huge-- HUGE-- amount of shame. It's one thing to write about it on the computer or Facebook, but it's another thing to admit to someone's face that you can't take care of yourself. You can't take care of your children. You can't be alone. You can't be alone with your children. You can't sleep. You feel like you can't control your thoughts. You feel unfit to be a mother. And while you know deep down somewhere that this isn't who you are, you have no idea when you'll be normal again and able to function again. And you are scared as all get-out that you'll be this way forever. And, see, I just admitted that I felt all of those things, but I used the second person and said "you" instead of "I" because it's still hard to admit some of that stuff, even 3 years later.
So, when I see moms who do admit some of those things at a weekly drop-in group, I sometimes don't see them the next week. What's even harder than disclosing what lies beneath the "I just feel really crappy" comments and bearing the under-belly of your emotions to strangers is returning the next week to those strangers and showing your face again. "Oh, yeah; there's that woman who's having a hard time." That's what I thought people thought about me. What if people thought I was that intense mom with way too much negative shit going on? What if people thought that I was nothing but depression and anxiety on two legs? Would I ever be able to make real friends and reconnect with the friends I had before I had kids?
Sometimes a mom who has spoken candidly about her feelings may take a couple weeks' break from a group and then return at some point. Sometimes they will even say, "I feel a little embarrassed about saying everything I said last time-- it feels funny to say all of that stuff to strangers, you know?" Thankfully, those moms always hear a chorus of, "Oh, please don't feel bad; you are so brave to speak honestly; it's great to see you again" and all of that. Thankfully, like I said, we have come a long way in understanding PPD and speaking to women about it.
But the reality is that women may still feel shame about all of this. A lot of shame. I still feel it 3 years later. I know I didn't do anything wrong, and I know that what I went through wasn't my fault. I know it doesn't make me a bad mom or anything like that. But I feel shame. I feel ashamed that I couldn't take care of myself. I feel ashamed that my husband essentially had 3 children. I feel ashamed that I was scared to be alone with my children. I feel ashamed that I didn't know how to be around other people without talking about my anxiety. I feel ashamed that there wasn't much more to me than my illness. I feel ashamed that I didn't know how to be a mother to my kids or even if I *could* be a mother to my kids.
And at the time, what was screaming on my insides was, "This isn't who I am. I know this isn't who I am." I do remember once saying to a very close friend, "You know this isn't who I am, right?" And thankfully, she patted my hand and said, "I know. You are just going through a bad time."
So, if a mom who is struggling comes to a group of mine and discloses her feelings, I have started to offer something like, "you know, what's going on right now doesn't define you. You are more than this-- all of these struggles don't define your life and your existence. You WILL feel like yourself again."
But here's the thing, a couple weeks ago, I bumped into someone who last saw me when I was struggling 3 years ago. When she saw me, she said, "Oh, how ARE you?" with a pointed, concerned look on her face. No doubt, her question came from a place of genuine concern and care, but I hated the way her face made me feel. Three years later, I still think about who saw me in my dark, dark place when I was really damn far from who I am, and I still feel that twinge of shame that they saw me in that state. Of course, most of those people know that I'm fine now and those struggles are way past me, but there's a part of me that wants to blurt out, "you know I'm fine now, right? I'm not like that anymore." I'm sure they know that. But for anyone who knew what was really going on with me during my toughest times, I feel like I will forever be undoing it and proving that I'm fine.
So, why tell you all this? Why bring all of this up? I don't know; maybe I drank the I-feel-therefore-I-must-broadcast-it-on-the-Internet juice. Maybe I saw someone the other day who reminded me of me, and I felt slightly triggered, slightly relieved, and slightly humbled. Maybe I am remembering that the process of healing isn't linear, and the old dark stuff isn't far from my memory.
Maybe I need to tell everyone who knew me in the dark months that yes, I really am fine now. Maybe I also want to tell any woman who is in that shitty place now that they will come out of it one day. Maybe this is just another step in the process of what feels like a lifetime of undoing that time, exorcising it again and again.
2 comments:
Great post! And all well said. I definitely agree that the stigma attached with PPD is waning, or has waned. I am sure it is still there, but in my circle, I don't ever hear anyone judge. Then again, I think I'm in a circle more where people, in general, understand mental illness, and it seems everyone knows someone close to them who has experienced something (like cancer).
It's interesting some of how you described PPD, esp in feeling like you are not yourself. I never had the feeling that i couldn't take care of myself or my baby, but I did (as you know some) have a huge huge sense of loss and sadness at the close of my first pregnancy. I was weepy at the drop of a hat (esp if anything reminded me of being pregnant), and I would cry and my husband just didn't know how to deal with my not knowing how to deal with my emotions! I'd have to coach him through just being kind and patient to me (instead of defensive) when I was crying, even saying, "I don't know why I'm crying either!" But he wasn't used to my personality being like this, so he did take it personally sometimes (although ironically, before we had our 2nd baby, he barely remembered I went through any of this!). I remember feeling sooooooo sad that I couldn't control my emotions. So confused and I guess, scared, to a degree--just not myself. Several people told me (maybe you also!) that it gets better, just wait 3 months or so, and honestly, that helped me get through it. Knowing there was an end in sight. Even though I didn't know HOW it was going to end in 3 months. But I was just trying to trust that this was hormonal, an intense lack of sleep, a life-changing event, being used to staying at home, a somewhat colicky baby who didn't sleep much at night or in the day--just trying to trust that in 3 months, my body and mind would start to feel more like myself.
And thank GOD in 3 months or so, I did start feeling more like myself. But I will never forget how I felt, as it was a glimpse into people who suffer from depression. But I had something to hold onto, my brain telling me, "just hold on for 3 months...just 2 months, just 1 more month" and that end in sight did really help me. I trusted that I would feel like myself again. And it did happen. But for people who suffer longer than that, or who suffer from clinical depression (and don't even know why), my heart breaks for them. Because they do NOT have an end in sight. And that must be so intensely difficult to just get through every day and not have faith that within a time period it will get better.
(more in 2nd post)
part 2:
Anyway, I digress a little there. But yes, it is a very real thing that a lot of women go through. In fact, when I meet a new mom who tells me she's feeling great, hasn't had any weepiness, doesn't feel like her life has changed much, her baby doesn't cry much at all, she is sleeping well, etc. I usually am like, "Really? Wow, that's pretty amazing!" because I think that's the rarity. Not that the majority of women suffer from PPD, but at least many of us suffer from "baby blues" or at minimum, severe sleep deprivation which causes your emotions to be wacky, baby or not. But hey, obviously there are women out there who do not experience those things, and that's their legitimate experience too.
I think it's great that your group is a safe haven for people to feel comfortable to talk about things they struggle with. To know they are NOT alone. Not at all. There is no shame at all in feeling this way or admitting you feel this way. It's not like anyone chooses to feel this way on a whim, or that it represents how we are as parents or people. But I know what you mean, that someone may feel it defines them for a while. Because, when you're in that cloud, it sort of does feel like it defines you in that moment. It does feel consuming. It's like, you have to reach back into yourself and pull out pages to the book of who you USED to be. But you still are--you just don't have access to that part of yourself in the same way you used to (at least, I didn't--I knew what I was like, what my personality was like, how I would normally feel, but I just couldn't always muster that part of me up). You just have to figure out a way to get through that cloud and pull the rest of you out again.
Anyway! Thanks for sharing, and thanks for helping other women get through it. Because you never know. Small or big comments that someone says, or a gesture, or piece of advice, encouragement, personal story--just may be what someone with PPD/Baby blues/post-baby emotional-roller-coaster needs to hear in order to give her the faith to know that it WILL get better. To not give up hope. You are still there, underneath it all, and you will come back out.
Post a Comment