As some of my posts have been over this past year, today’s is a little different from the usual nutrition talk or recipe share. I’ve always believed that we have to treat the entire person, all the fundamentals of health, in order to restore or maintain balance and wellness. I focus primarily on nutrition and exercise/movement, but I’m very much aware of and take seriously the other areas of my clients’ health and challenges. For me, movement, breath, nutrition, and rest are the cornerstones of good health. Each one of these must be addressed in order to truly reach wellness. Rest encompasses not only your quality and quantity of sleep, but your “down-time”, your self-care time, your work/play balance. Breath, likewise, is not just about simply breathing, but breathing well, breathing effectively to communicate to your body that you are ok, you are getting what you need. Proper breath is not only essential to proper movement, but also to managing stress and balancing hormones like cortisol. I work to treat the entire person, not just the number on the scale, the weight on the squat bar, or the amount of veggies your kid eats.
All of this is a long-winded way of saying that this post is going to be very personal and not about nutrition or exercise. Many readers may know that I’ve been a bit preoccupied this past year. After developing severe pre-eclampsia, which was diagnosed less than 72 hours before E had to be urgently delivered, 7 weeks in the NICU, 6 months of nearly force-feeding our tiny peanut, and now another 5 months of feeding therapy and pumping for her g-tube feeds, to say it’s been a long, difficult year would be a massive understatement. I think, however, from many of my posts, FB “snapshots” of my life, and Instagram pics, one might be inclines to think that we and I am managing much better than I feel. By that, I mean, while, yes, we are getting through it, and our baby girl is truly thriving, many days have been and are spent in tears, rage, and exhaustion. I’ve hesitated to write this post because it feels so absurdly vulnerable. I don’t like being vulnerable. I am afraid of how others will perceive me. Afraid that by admitting weakness, I somehow compromise my ability to guide others and be respected. But, I know that if another momma said any of this to me, I would reassure her over and over that she’s doing AMAZING and that I have nothing but respect for her. Funny how we can so often give others grace, but not ourselves. So, in honor of Mental Health Month, I’m sharing my “weakness” in the hopes that other mommas won’t feel quite so alone or like they’re doing something “wrong”.
I live with postpartum depression and anxiety, as well as PTSD from my daughter’s incredibly traumatic birth and now first few months in this world. I hate to admit this because I feel like that makes me weak. Like I am failing my children for not enjoying them more, for fearing so much, for feeling so much pain and fear so often. Some days, some days I’m ok. Some days it’s just a few moments of the day that seem to be falling apart. Some days, it’s the whole day. Sometimes something sets it off – seeing a momma who is 7 months pregnant, just like I was with E; seeing a momma carry around her baby as he eats from a bottle and chase her toddler at the park while I have to watch my son from afar because my daughter is hooked up to her feed; watching a momma nurse when I know my pump is at home waiting for me. Sometimes it comes out of nowhere – a sudden rush of anger, of pain, of unknown fear. Some days it’s because I had to try to calm the toddler just one too many times, or pick up the fussy baby while trying to cook dinner. Often, it’s something I know, rationally, shouldn’t be that upsetting, but it throws me into a tailspin, overwhelmed with intense emotions that I don’t know how to manage AND still be present for my kids.
And just when I think maybe, just maybe it’s getting better, I’m getting better, I suddenly find myself sobbing in the car for no discernable reason and exhausted, despite a decent night’s sleep. So I’m trying not to fight it, but to live with it. To live with the exhaustion that comes with PTSD and PPD/A. The relentless weight that always seems to be making each day, each choice, each tiny task harder than it really should be. The fatigue so complete that anything beyond sitting on the couch and watching Netflix mindlessly (but with a million tabs open simultaneously because even a good show can’t quiet that relentless torrent of thoughts that cascade through my head seemingly every hour of the day) seems tantamount to scaling Everest, blindfolded. I’m trying to acknowledge it and not be ashamed of it. I’m trying to give myself grace and remember that I’ve been through a lot, that it’s ok to need to rest, to take care of myself…and I’m hoping that by sharing this, other mommas might know it’s ok and they’re ok, too.
I live with postpartum depression and anxiety, as well as PTSD from my daughter’s incredibly traumatic birth and now first few months in this world. I hate to admit this because I feel like that makes me weak. Like I am failing my children for not enjoying them more, for fearing so much, for feeling so much pain and fear so often. Some days, some days I’m ok. Some days it’s just a few moments of the day that seem to be falling apart. Some days, it’s the whole day. Sometimes something sets it off – seeing a momma who is 7 months pregnant, just like I was with E; seeing a momma carry around her baby as he eats from a bottle and chase her toddler at the park while I have to watch my son from afar because my daughter is hooked up to her feed; watching a momma nurse when I know my pump is at home waiting for me. Sometimes it comes out of nowhere – a sudden rush of anger, of pain, of unknown fear. Some days it’s because I had to try to calm the toddler just one too many times, or pick up the fussy baby while trying to cook dinner. Often, it’s something I know, rationally, shouldn’t be that upsetting, but it throws me into a tailspin, overwhelmed with intense emotions that I don’t know how to manage AND still be present for my kids.
And just when I think maybe, just maybe it’s getting better, I’m getting better, I suddenly find myself sobbing in the car for no discernable reason and exhausted, despite a decent night’s sleep. So I’m trying not to fight it, but to live with it. To live with the exhaustion that comes with PTSD and PPD/A. The relentless weight that always seems to be making each day, each choice, each tiny task harder than it really should be. The fatigue so complete that anything beyond sitting on the couch and watching Netflix mindlessly (but with a million tabs open simultaneously because even a good show can’t quiet that relentless torrent of thoughts that cascade through my head seemingly every hour of the day) seems tantamount to scaling Everest, blindfolded. I’m trying to acknowledge it and not be ashamed of it. I’m trying to give myself grace and remember that I’ve been through a lot, that it’s ok to need to rest, to take care of myself…and I’m hoping that by sharing this, other mommas might know it’s ok and they’re ok, too.