Dear Self

Dear self,

Remember that time in 11^th grade after school at that study session for math in that small classroom with just the teacher and a few other students? Remember when you were working through a problem and you could hear those two underclassmen girls whispering and one of them said your name and you had never met them before?

Remember how the teacher asked them if they needed something, and the girl said that you didn’t like them, which was funny because you didn’t even know the girls. That sure felt uneasy and isolating after that. And then you had to sit through the awful awkward silence in the room. They left before you did, which you were thankful for but you still don’t know why those girls said you didn’t like them or why they thought that you didn’t.

You’ve said it before on this blog that you’re a pretty private person. Sure, you like to crack jokes and can be loud sometimes (which most people seem to find charming), but when it comes to the personal stuff, you keep it to yourself. You’re also insecure, to a fault. You want people to like you. You like approval.

This makes it hard for you to make friends. Recently someone did something to you that hurt real bad. Whether they intended to or not, it made you super self-conscious and upset because they don’t like you. You guys have tons of mutual friends, online and in real life, and they made a conscious effort to cut you out. To be even more swell, the way it was brought to your attention must have cut even deeper. Ouch. You felt just as insecure and isolated as you did sitting in that classroom at LDHS. That pit in your stomach hasn’t stopped aching for like three weeks now. Geez.

The fact is, you need to get over yourself. In the grand scheme of things you have to ask yourself, “Does this really matter?” You know that you are not for everyone. Come’on, you crack crass jokes and have the maturity of a twelve year old! My goodness, you love dirty rap music and eating carbs in your underwear. People might have a hard time getting on board with that crazy train.

The old Stefanie would have cut them off and ran… or chased them like a puppy dog trying to convince them to please like you. They don’t matter. People will fail you. But the hard truth is, that not everyone is going to like you, but those that do matter do like you. So quit beating yourself up about these haterz.

“Haterz gonna hate.”

You can get caught up in thinking about how loved and appreciated everyone else seems to be. It’s easy to fall down that self-loathing rabbit hole and get lost. (It’s pretty familiar to you, isn’t it?) Just. Don’t. Besides, look at you, you are pretty amazing. You also have two littles that you need to think about modeling your behavior after. They don’t need to see you drawing horns on their heads, so you can quit daydreaming about that. You do need to teach them that it’s okay to be yourself. It’s okay to not be everyone’s favorite. It’s okay to love the shit out of whatever you want to and anybody that doesn’t approve can miss out on the party. Be fantastically authentic. Be you. Be awesome. 

Hugs and kisses,

Me

Different

You know, for a married couple Brian and I actually don’t share that much in common. That sure makes for interesting observations from people.

I’m short, he’s tall.

He’s skinny, I’m…. well, not.

I’m dramatic, he’s practical.

I’m loud, he’s reserved.

I like to buy pretty things, he likes to save each extra penny.

I’m quick to anger, and he’s rational down to his very core.

I’m a dreamer, he’s a realist.

He doesn’t bat an eye when I talk about moving to a farm in the country, or get a hare-brained idea to paint the bathroom at 11 p.m.

But for two people so drastically different, we share one thing and that’s our love.

Sure, our marriage has taken a beating. When times are tough and it feels like the whole world is against us, we know that no matter what we’ll be okay as long as we have each other.

We’ve stood through job loss, death, sickness, financial hardship, and so much that was designed to destroy us, but we’re closer and stronger than ever before.

Being married to someone who battles depression can’t be easy. There are man times that I felt like I was floating out in deeper darker waters by myself only to be rescued by Brian. He’s my rock. He’s pulled me up when it felt like I was being swallowed by the deep darkness.

As the year closes, I’m thankful for my marriage. I’m thankful that I get to spend every single day with my very best friend. I’m thankful that my marriage gives me something to fight for and a reason to push back the suffocating darkness of depression. I’m thankful that we are so different.

I am thankful for this life.

sick-y

I have a sick-y baby.

A fever spiking between 104 and 105, coughing fits shaking her tiny body, a struggle to breathe through congestion, angry cries from achy bones. Poor thing just wants to feel better.

I laid with her across my lap between the hours of one and four am. Wrapping my arms around her waist and neck, snuggling her in the curve of my elbow listening to the rattle of air pass in and out of her body. A pool of warm sweat beads collected on the bed sheets and onto my shirt. Her hair matted from the sticky heat radiating from her forehead. She looked so small compared to me.

I moved us closer to the humidifier, letting the cool air cover her cheeks as I sat up against the wall of my bedroom in the complete dark. My phone sat across the room from me plugged into the wall. I couldn't reach the light on my nightstand and I didn't want to risk waking her from the slumber she finally had found. She shifted slightly and I bounced her back to sleep quickly singing her soft lullabies, hugging her tightly while glancing at the glow of the alarm clock counting the minutes until dawn.

While the rest of the house was quiet I sat alone with my girl. My mind wandered deeper, but I redirected myself off that path. My energy couldn't be spent on THOSE thoughts. I have to use all of myself that I can to make my darling angel better.

I can deal with those feelings later. The wondering if I'll ever be a good enough mother. Wondering if I'm doing all of this wrong. Wondering if I'm hurting my kids by having this career. And MY. GOSH. the guilt. Trying to have both a successful work life and balance the perfect family life. The voice that tells me I'm failing. Trying to keep the peace. Oh, the guilt.

But that's for later. When baby girl is better.

Mommy can get better.

all that I can.

Thank you. Thank you for the kind words and compassion. Thank you for the heartfelt letters from those fighting this same battle and those who have walked this path before. I talked on the phone at length with some, exchanged quick text messages with others, each moment a validation of my decision to share this experience online and in a very public way.

If anything, it was nice a nice reminder of what an incredible support system I have.

We had a nice weekend. It was busy, which was good. I got time to spend alone with each of my children. We played and saw friends. We spent a balmy Sunday afternoon at the park after an epic family nap time.

I think I'm okay to say that I no longer fear that this won't get better. I am hopeful that clarity will come and that resolution will soon follow. One thing that did come to my attention over the weekend was how intuitive Nolan is. I always knew he had an empathetic heart, but I realize that I need to be careful how we teach him to use that quality. I don't want him to feel pressured to please others. As that is something that has been heavy on my heart all of my life, I don't want him, or any of my children, to feel expected to do that. This is something that I'm embarrassed that I still struggle with.

He knows when I'm sad.

He knows how to make me smile. That boy, makes my heart sing.

Mostly, I hope that my children will remember a happy childhood with a mother who loved them with all of herself.

I sure do love them with all that I can.

Sometimes the truth hurts

There is an ache in my gut, right below my left lung directly behind my heart. I feel it there, boring deeper into my abdomen like a painfully silent shot gun shell.

My eyes burn, all the time, burning from damming up tears that are on the cusp of free flowing down the curves of my face.

I lie awake at night heavy sinking into the deeper darker, unable to crawl out. I watch the minutes click by on the clock slowly. I let my mind wonder to the what ifs, what if I wasn't here? How many hours will I sleep tonight? Two? Three, if I'm lucky.

Depression sucks.

Anxiety blows.

I hate it.

But this has become my reality.

Part of my brain is broken. My very smart (and super witty) brain, it has a problem. I've wrestled with this mess for a while. Circumstances in my life and past experiences have torn at my soul. While I have so much to be happy for, so much to want to live for, I am sad. I thought I was just going through a rough patch. That once things got easier, once I could get a break that I'd be okay again. But then I realize that it's a pattern. This wasn't my first time on this roller coaster.

I realized that I needed help.

Well, before I realized that I tried everything, EVERYTHING, to solve it. I tried to pray it away. I tried to shop it away. I tried to starve it away. I tried to drug it away. I tried to sleep it away.... but it lingers.

Someone told me that I just had PMS. That person also told me I wasn't taking the right vitamins. Some people have told me I was being dramatic.

I have a wonderful, absolutely amazing and supportive husband who knew that his bride couldn't do this alone and he was scared and unequipped to help himself. He saw this when I broke down in sobs in the church parking lot, when I'd lay in bed until the skies became dark again. But he helped me make that call.

I started seeing a psychologist. She's a firecracker from New Jersey with a gentle spirit. She's helping me face my own ingrained demons. I'm working to break down the walls of false truths I built myself upon. I'm working through this.

I'm on a medication. My brain needs healing. At least a respite from the torture it's brought upon itself. Hopefully, I can see things clearer and the fog will be lifted. Hopefully, I can feel more than just sadness but genuine, real genuine joy. And I can be honest when someone asks me how I am doing, and say I am good. I am okay.

Okay

Man, I hope my shrink likes me. Is that weird? Like I'm a little self conscious of what this doctor might think about me, when I'm paying them money to think about me.

What do I wear? I mean, I want to be presentable and put together, but then if I look put together will they think I have it too together and therefore think I'm being trivial? Do I dress to express how I feel? Because I might as well not shower or wear make up and should just wear my pajamas.

I want them to laugh at my jokes, and want to be my best friend. I want them to be mesmerized by my stories and rooting for me, this amazing heroine on this incredible journey. I want them to look forward to my appointments each week because I'm their favorite client.

I want to be the best client that psychiatrist has ever seen!

Turns out maybe I have a problem seeking approval. Who would have guessed?

This season of life has been exceptionally challenging. The other day I apologized to a friend I just met, "I'm sorry you are meeting me now, I am just a little weird at the moment." I am not me, well, not fully atleast. I go through the motions, put on a brave face and cover up the missing parts that have fallen or have been taken, and I want it seem okay. I want to feel like it is okay.

I'm not saying that my past was extra difficult, or even that things in my life are any harder than your own. I know deeply how amazed and grateful I should be that I have been given so much. But I do know that right now I'm not okay to deal with it. My brain just isn't allowing me to be okay.

Up until recently I didn't think it was allowed to not be okay. I can think back over my life at the times that I fell into this cycle and I remember being told by those close to me that I was being dramatic. I had no reason to be sad.

"Nobody is dead, Stefanie," they said.

They thought I was being moody and unappreciative.

"So you are sad, well, stop being sad."

They didn't know what to do with me.

But now, now I have too much to lose to not be okay. I have two tiny people who I am living for. I have a husband who I can't leave because God knows, without me he can't be trusted to dress my kids in the morning in clothes that match. Oh, how I heart him hard.

Now I know that it IS okay to ask for help when you need it. Sometimes we can't get there on our own. Sometimes we need to look back in order to keep moving forward. It doesn't matter if you're the best, the prettiest, and even whether everyone likes you. You're going to fight this saddness like hell. You'll be okay.

I'm going to be okay.