Last week Hubby and I were driving to David's last soccer game by a very circuitous route due to some road construction blocking our main route into town. Hubby was lamenting how annoying it is to have to take the detour because it added ten plus minutes to his commute time--not only because of the extra distance, but also due to a short light cycle at one of the intersections with lots of semis and fellow commuters between him and the intersection.
Of course I had to comment how happy I was that the kids weren't in school anymore because if they were, I'd have to drive the detour every morning on our way to school making an already stressful situation even worse.
It was in that exact moment when it hit me.
I was happy. I loved homeschooling my kids. I loved being able to watch my children learn a new concept. I loved learning alongside them. I loved the freedom homeschooling affords my family--going on nature walks with them, dropping everything for an impromptu tea party, taking the afternoon off from school to meet up with family at an indoor play place, having a counter full of celery for a science experiment, the closeness I have with my children.
I was happy. I was trying new things. Getting over life long fears. Testing my wings. Finding myself. Loving on my family. Smiling. Meeting new people. Speaking in front of a crowd of women. Not yelling at my kids or giving Hubby the silent treatment when he made me mad. My battle with anxiety-induced stomach aches that I've had since 5th grade was gone.
I was happy. I was trying new things. Getting over life long fears. Testing my wings. Finding myself. Loving on my family. Smiling. Meeting new people. Speaking in front of a crowd of women. Not yelling at my kids or giving Hubby the silent treatment when he made me mad. My battle with anxiety-induced stomach aches that I've had since 5th grade was gone.
A year ago I was at the absolute lowest point of my life. I had a breakdown which prompted me to seek medical help. I started on an antidepressent that changed my life.
I met my mom for lunch today and somehow it came up where she said that over the past year, I completely changed. I was a new woman finally blossoming into who I was meant to be. She said that she should have seen the signs, should have realized what was going on with me. When I was a younger mom, I would just sit there when my kids fought, were destructive, did things that needed correcting. And she would wonder why I wasn't doing anything about it. She thought that was just the sort of mom I was. But now she can clearly see that it wasn't who I was because I'm not that mom anymore.
I had depression during two of my pregnancies and post-partum depression after all of my children that lasted for the first year or so. Just as I would start to get better, I'd get pregnant which would start the cycle all over again. After the PPD with Joy faded away, I thought I was better. Because I wasn't as bad as I was a while ago. Meaning I was operating at 50%, but that's better than 20% so I was fine.
It's so easy to see the truth when you're looking back. I spent eight years of my life in varying states of depression, fear, and anxiety. Eight years of my life--gone. While I am proud of the things I've accomplished in that time frame, it does beg the question--What could I have done, who could I be now, had I gotten help sooner?
I guess the answer to that question lies in who I am now. And who I am going to be in a year after I finish my 52 Week of New Adventure.
I met my mom for lunch today and somehow it came up where she said that over the past year, I completely changed. I was a new woman finally blossoming into who I was meant to be. She said that she should have seen the signs, should have realized what was going on with me. When I was a younger mom, I would just sit there when my kids fought, were destructive, did things that needed correcting. And she would wonder why I wasn't doing anything about it. She thought that was just the sort of mom I was. But now she can clearly see that it wasn't who I was because I'm not that mom anymore.
I had depression during two of my pregnancies and post-partum depression after all of my children that lasted for the first year or so. Just as I would start to get better, I'd get pregnant which would start the cycle all over again. After the PPD with Joy faded away, I thought I was better. Because I wasn't as bad as I was a while ago. Meaning I was operating at 50%, but that's better than 20% so I was fine.
It's so easy to see the truth when you're looking back. I spent eight years of my life in varying states of depression, fear, and anxiety. Eight years of my life--gone. While I am proud of the things I've accomplished in that time frame, it does beg the question--What could I have done, who could I be now, had I gotten help sooner?
I guess the answer to that question lies in who I am now. And who I am going to be in a year after I finish my 52 Week of New Adventure.
No comments:
Post a Comment