Thursday, May 17, 2018
Holy moly, it's been a minute. Sometimes I miss the days of my blog of no big content, and just rambling. Rather now, it seems a blog only happens for significant things. Hence this post.
I've had something pretty heavy on my heart for awhile now, and that little gold barbie has inspired me to share it. Behind that gold barbie is an amazing tribe of moms. Today was the last day of MOPs for the (school) year. MOPs entered my life when I moved to Alamogordo. When we moved I wasn't in a good (mental) place, and knew I would need to find my "people". And MOPs didn't disappoint. The ladies of that MOPs group are still a huge part of my life. Granted, I no longer see them, or rarely talk to them, but I pray for them and think of them just about daily (you ladies of Alamogordo MOPs know who YOU are).
When we moved back to Colorado, I joined Red Rocks Arvada MOPs. And these ladies are just wonderful. Being part of a mom tribe, it's so comforting, because they just get IT. There is no explanation, no judgement; just a heartfelt smile and hug. This Mom gig is hard. And for some crazy reason we try to do it by ourselves, until life gives in and God invented MOPs! Praise the Lord!!!
This year's MOPs theme was Free Indeed. It was about being free of the burdens you hold, letting go and being yourself. Being Gutsy, and just letting it ALL OUT.
That's what this post is all about. Not sunshine and rainbows, but the horrible storm clouds we all go through. I've had this post in my head for so long, who knows how the words will come out, but it's time for me to let it go. I've hesitated writing this post, because I don't really have a conclusion. Because this journey is far (like super far) from over, so who knows how it will end.
I think my main goal is just to start the conversation. End the sigma.
Back in January at a MOPs meeting, we talked about being Gutsy. Going first. To share whatever we wanted to share. And I did just that. I shared that in April of last year I tried to kill myself. That my depression had gotten the worse of me, that I truly believed this world would be better off without me. That Chris would re-marry, find a new mom for my kids. And that the world would go on and everything would be fine; if not better. I spent 4 nights in the hospital; one night in the ICU, and 3 nights in mental health. Prior to this happening, when Bennett was a newborn (Bennett was 11 months old when this happened) I had tried seeking help. Being in a small down, the resources were slim, and the 2 (or 3, I can't remember now) therapist that I saw, didn't really want to talk to me, they just wanted to put me on some drugs. And I didn't want to be drugged. I just wanted someone to talk to about my issues and feelings. ...and now looking back, I probably did need drugs. Once Chris started traveling (when Bennett was 4 months old) and we had no idea where our lives were going to go. My anxiety went through the roof. I wanted to know where we were going to go, and when. Through all of this, my biggest lesson about myself, is that I CRAVE stability. I literally NEED stability to survive. As the months went on without any direction, I took the driver seat. I never wanted to leave Colorado, so back to Colorado we would go. I put the wheels in motion, and whenever I would try to plan something Chris would put the brakes on it. There were many many arguments about our move. But I was literally going crazy. Hence my hospitalization. I was at my lowest of low. I can remember all the details of that day. It was a Friday, and we had had such an amazing morning. I for whatever reason even took a shower and put on makeup. It was suppose to be a good day.
The days in mental health at the hospital were horrible. I couldn't see my kids, and we only were allowed visitors twice a day. It was scary and boring. I wanted out as soon as possible.
Once I got out I of course saw a therapist who couldn't even talk to me for an hour about why I was there. We literally sat in complete silence a few different times throughout the session. It was a joke. Chris and I did see another therapist a few times, but no big revelation happened. And who knows if that's what I'm expecting, but I guess I know there are some issues with us, and things from my far far past (pre-Chris and pre-marriage) that I feel I need help with. That no therapist seems to care enough to spend time on. It's beyond frustrating.
Then we moved back. And I started seeing a therapist here. I saw her a handful of times before Chris lost his job (and insurance) at the end of September.
We started recently seeing someone again, but again it's like there is this dead air. No therapist seems to want to invest in the fact that I literally tried to kill myself, and get into the depths of the horrible things that go on in a persons brain to actually make an attempt. Hopefully that makes sense.
I also know mental health is not on the priority list for caregivers, or trying to seek help. But this system is broken. Even though my attempt was more than a year ago, I still need help. And finding GOOD help just about seems impossible. I by no means don't feel "cured". Granted, I no longer have suicidal thoughts, but I know I still have deep issues to work out. And I want to work out those issues. I need resolution. Is it weird to feel that I want that resolution with the help of a therapist. With someone I feel, actually cares?! There is this black hole around mental health, and I have no idea how to fix it, but it needs fixed.
My big dark secret.
I feel like I have come along way since last April, and putting my focus onto other things. Obviously loving on my kids something fierce everyday is a great focus. And I get to put my creative outlet into LuLaRoe, which has been a huge blessing.
I feel so lucky and loved by my tribe. Those who are part of it, know who you are, and I THANK YOU from the deepest part of me.