That was more for me than you. Stating the obvious, it has been quite some time since I put pen to paper and released my thoughts to you. It was intentional. Most certainly not because I didn’t want to or that I’d moved on to bigger and better things, it was simply because I couldn’t.

I had a baby…I had 2 boys under 2. I was engulfed with postpartum depression and anxiety and in a grungy survival mode. Everything I did was simply to make it to the next hour. Hours, days and months passed and I was still just surviving. Barely, at that.

Then, my youngest wouldn’t talk and although I’d noticed and documented my sensory concerns and he started OT at 10 months, him literally not saying one word freaked me out. So, suddenly I had 2 special needs kids. You should know I had no idea the toll that would take on me. Somehow, I made up that since I had one, I was a pro and knew the ropes. You know, the “I got this” mentality. You should also know what I made up was very incorrect. I also didn’t involve my heart in these matters. I didn’t have time to feel and, if I didn’t feel anything, then there wasn’t anything to work through and definitely no need to cope. Again, I made up that I didn’t have time for it anyway so, why bother. Head down and get to work.

Somehow, that worked, until it didn’t. Without feeling or really thinking I was managing 4 different therapy appointments, continuing exercises from therapies at home, homeschooling, not sleeping, not exercising, barely eating, forcing myself to get out of bed every day, and hating so so much of this so-called life. It sounds so cliché but I honestly had no idea was who this empty person was staring back at me in the mirror. I lived on coffee, Malbec, and Xanax. Now, I’m sure you’re reading this and expecting a big ‘Aha Moment’ to come next. Spoiler Alert: It does not.

I kept going. Full speed ahead with no gas. Or oil. At this point, I was out of windshield wiper fluid, but I kept going. Then, the breakdown happened. You have to know that for the entirety of my mothering, so 3 years and 1.5 months at this point, my anxiety was a like a purse. Sometimes I left it at home or in the car. Forgot I had it. Other times it was a small crossbody-there but not in the way. At this point, it was a huge tote bag filled to the brim, spilling out everywhere and so so heavy. Again, I kept going. *insert face-palm emoji*

Back to the breakdown, I’m not sure how it happened…what sparked it… how I got to that point of allowing myself to feel but I remember laying on our sofa talking to my husband and then all of a sudden thinking the roof was leaking. (You should know that it is late March and in 6 months we had a leak, our heat broke, I put a hole in the garage wall, our fridge went out and our microwave broke so, a roof leak was par for the course.) I looked up, no leak that I could see. “Why is my face wet?” I asked myself. Then, the scene from “How The Grinch Stole Christmas” happened in my living room and I said to myself, “I’m leaking!” Not crying because I don’t have time for that. I truly believed I was leaking. Sad, I know. Anyway, my heart came out of hibernation and reminded that I was, in fact, crying. Now everything from that moment to my husband carrying me upstairs shaking is a blur. I have no idea what took place but I know I emptied everything I’d been carrying in that anxiety bag. I also unloaded the depression suitcase that was way past any airline weight limit.

I remember feeling physically lighter the next day but started my day like I did any day before that. Very soon I knew that didn’t work. No one just drops 300 pounds and puts on their old clothes. So, when my oldest was in speech therapy, I threw my youngest in the stroller and did something I didn’t have time for before. I listened to “For The Love” podcast with Jen Hatmaker and her guest Glennon Doyle. You guys-those 2 changed the course of me finding me in a short 1ish hour. Glennon said, “When your done being perfect you can be good. And when you’re done being good, you can be free.”

*insert ‘Aha Moment’*

What a word that was??? Anyway, that was 3 months ago and I’ve been slowly finding my way to freedom since then. For me, freedom is:

1. Not letting anxiety and depression win
2. Finding my way back to happy, whatever that means
3. Releasing the anger
4. Accepting all the grace
5. Giving myself and others grace
6. Being the mom I want to be
7. Getting to know the person looking back at me the mirror

I don’t have my list of what makes me happy complete. I know I like to exercise and I like to write. I love to read. So, I started reading again and I loved being filled with good things. I started exercising again and I love giving to me. I just started writing again and it felt good. I missed this and I missed you.