Twenty year old me

I had Noah when I was twenty, I'll be thirty-one on Tuesday, thirty something me thinks its totally nuts that a twenty year old would raise a baby. When I was pregnant with him I was working and in school. I remember saying, "I can't go to school, work, and be pregnant", so I quit my job, finished out my semester in college, then stayed at home as a mom until Noah was two and that was when I started working again.

I have been in college the second time since May of 2010, at one point I was doing school full time, working two jobs and was pregnant. As I got older I realized I was capable of way more than what twenty year old me thought. However, just because you are capable doesn't mean you should or makes it beneficial. Maybe twenty year old me had it right in setting some boundaries and priorities. I'm only three classes away from my BA, I'm proud, but I'm also so freaking exhausted. I've proved to myself what I can do, so what?

Double Negatives

Sometimes, when it quiet, I have conversations with myself. This happens mainly if the babes are napping or I can actually catch a shower alone. Last night as I was showering and finally able to shave my legs (it had been waaaaaay to long), I had the intrusive thought of cutting myself while shaving. Not my legs but my arms or my wrists. This may be horrifying to some people but this is the thing I have been fighting for weeks. When the thought comes in, currently, I tell myself 'you're still to fat for a funeral', again this may be horrifying, however.....its a double negative. I cancel out the negative thoughts with another negative thought, meaning, I still have too much baby weight to lose to bow out now. Honestly, it works, and I kind of laugh at my own dark humor and continue on with the day. I need to constantly be present, in the moment, it's far to easy right now to slip down the rabbit hole. On a completely positive note, I actually played with my kids yesterday, it wasn't all survival mode. I played tag with Emerson, and played with his batman cars with him and we used Miles stripped onesie he was wearing as train tracks for Emerson's trains and drove them up and down his belly, much to his delight. Remaining present is an exercise I am trying to get better at.

Day 3

Today will be day three of the Prozac and there was a noticeable difference yesterday. It's the weirdest feeling being sick in the head. It's like you know something isn't right, some wiring, some chemical is off, but the brain keeps on functioning. Lopsided and wanting. It seeps into almost every daily functioning and task, poisoning it just a little. The meds have helped but obviously aren't there yet but it takes time to fix things that are broken. Prozac is not Marry Poppins.

Honesty

Honesty, this is really not something I have ever struggled with,being honest, unless it has to do with needing help. I honestly, couldn't admit to it. I am good, I am strong. I got this, I've been through worse. Those all fail. They falter.

 All three pregnancies, healthy, and the babies....my God, the babies...totally healthy. That is more than any mom could hope or ask for! However, at the end of each of my pregnancies, I fall. Violently, manically, and suddenly to bottom of a vary small, very dark pit. That is where I reside, with my first son I stayed there for three years. With my second, maybe only six months. With this third beautiful child of mine, I thought I was past that, I felt great! My head clear, my eyes bright, when suddenly, I was there again. I recognize these walls, this darkness, it creeped up on me in moments of mommy rage over stupid things. Seeing visions of gore that Hollywood couldn't come up with, during menial task like driving the car, and telling the urges in my head to self harm to stop.

Your body is amazing. It can create life, an actual bonefied human being! But in doing so, for some of us, the chemicals, the hormones, after this amazing great task.....it fails. The wiring gets crossed and suddenly life is awful when it should be wonderful.

I went to my doctor three weeks after having Miles, I felt it coming on, she said she could Baker act me or give me a referral. I didn't have time for either so I went home convinced I can sweat the demons out like I did after I had Emerson. I worked out two hours a day, sometimes six days a week to silence urges. It's been worse this time. I'm more tired, more distracted, more everything.

Three days ago, with the support and urging of my husband I finally saw a different doctor about this and left with a script for Prozac. Wow. I had always prided myself on being a self starter and handling things myself. I didn't think I needed meds, I can sweat my out of the darkest hole.

Anyways, here I am. The view from the bottom, trying to find my way out, again, for the third time. I wish I could just have babies and rejoice! Not have babies and then be crippled by my own mind, poisoning every action and every moment little by little with this creeping unpredictable darkness.
Maybe prozac, for me, will be like having a flashlight in the pit. At least he didn't go all 'The Yellow Wallpaper' on me