Life gets messy sometimes. Whether it be physical, emotional or mental, sometimes all of the above, it can be chaos. Not many would admit it, or even agree, but I am thankful for life messes. They're learning points. Every adventure teaches me something.
My marriage taught me to hide my feelings and present myself the way the world imagines it should be. My divorce taught me to embrace those feelings and follow my gut. If something doesn't feel right, it probably isn't. Society has this fantasy that couples are supposed to be, which simply isn't always the case. More married couples sleep in separate rooms and smile in public than you'd imagine. And yet, that is accepted. Women are shamed for seeking help with depression or anxiety. Truth is, I don't think there's a woman out there that hasn't experienced postpartum depression in the form of baby blues all the way across the spectrum to postpartum psychosis. Why is it shameful to see a counselor or take medication? I will throw my southern opinion out there. I find it much more a disgrace to avoid the problem and attempt to hide it. There's nothing wrong with asking for help. We all need it from time to time.
I personally have suffered from depresssion in the past. I've battled anxiety as well. I've sat on the counselors couch and cried my eyes out, wondering what was so wrong with me. I propose another question. What was wrong with my situation? Could it be that I was a stay at home mom with no outlet, no help, and no encouragement? Is it possible to say I was unhappy in my marriage and didn't realize it? I suffered miserably with my first 2 children. I was heavily medicated and constantly being shuffled from shrink to shrink. I was even misdiagnosed as bipolar. It wasn't until the third child arrived, and my husband told me in the hospital two days after delivery that he didn't love me anymore, that I realized my discontent. As much as I tried to forgive him, I couldn't.
Time has shown me that it wasn't the words he said, I couldn't forgive, but the fact that I'd been trapped in this relationship for 8 years. He didn't trap me there. I did. I stood at the door of the chapel that sunny day in May, and I knew then, it wasn't forever. I had a wishbone rather than a backbone. I was frozen on the alter shaking, forcing a smile, thinking of the 100 people behind me that would be disappointed if I ran. Looking back, the disappointment was greater 8 years later. When we separated or belongings, children, families, memories and lives.
Raising my third child alone for 18 months while his father had nothing to do with him, wasn't depressing at all. It was frustrating to see him take my older two and not the baby, but it wasn't sad. I couldn't understand how anyone could choose between their children, but after all, he'd done that before. Five children and he only knows 3. That was the sad part. But still, I didn't suffer from depression. My anxiety was stimulated by financial struggles, but was kept at bay ultimately without medication.
When the fourth tiny human arrived, my anxiety was at an all time high. Not because of the baby, but because of the situation I was in. I was miserable and couldn't find the exit. Though I've never told before, I would pray at night for the good Lord to lead the way. I didn't expect the exit to be as dramatic as it was, but it was an exit none the less. For weeks and months I didn't want to accept that my prayers had been answered, but as soon as I stopped convincing myself the situation was worth saving, I realized I didn't need it nor did I want it.
I've since embraced the fact that will be a single mother, and not one ounce of my being is sad about that. My situation has taught me so many things. It is better to be alone, than unhappy. We should never forfeit happiness for sake of appearances. Keeping quiet and crying in the dark is no way to live. It's not living when your soul is dying. I want to chase the sunset and dream out loud. This isn't possible without first admitting there's a problem.
Looking down on another because they aren't upholding a superficial standard, is not only wrong but incredibly hypocritical. As individuals, we should admire and encourage one another to follow their heart, live their dreams and seek guidance whenever needed. Whether it be in the form of a preacher, counselor, shrink, Dr or friend, we all need a little help sometimes. So for now I will be thankful for my messy life. The crumbs on my floor tell me the kids were fed. The toys I trip over mean they had fun, and the smile we all share means for the first time in a very long time we've been honest with ourselves. We are allowing or souls to thrive in the love we share. My broken heart is mending more every day, because I choose to live with every broken piece.
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