Remember when I told you a few months ago about how I was struggling with rage? That more and more often I would turn into a monster on my kids? Yeah…that never got much better.
I tried, y’all. I really did. I did everything I knew how to do–prayer, meditation, journaling, essential oils, supplements, etc., etc. I gave it my best shot to treat this monster in me naturally and without resorting to antidepressants. But it wasn’t enough. A few months ago I finally swallowed my pride and headed off to see my doctor and we agreed that a low dose of antidepressant drugs was probably best for this season of my life.
I know I shouldn’t feel ashamed to admit this, but I do. The perfectionist in me feels as though I have failed some great cosmic test of motherhood. My inner critic sneers at me, A billion moms out there go through the trials of raising kids on a daily basis and they don’t need drugs, you weakling. The control freak in me is ashamed that I wasn’t able to get a grip on myself and snap out of it. These parts of me don’t want to write this post, to admit to other moms out there that I need the help of drugs just to get through my days. I would much rather hide my truth and pretend that everything is sunshine and roses. Who wouldn’t?
Here’s the thing, though. Nothing irritates me more than fake people. Nothing makes me grit my teeth harder than people who blatantly show off their perfect moments and sweep the real, raw, ugly, dirty, hard moments under a freshly vacuumed rug. So I share my truth here and wherever I can because I feel that it helps other moms to know that they’re not the only ones going through the raw, dirty, hard moments.
So, yes, I am now taking a low dose antidepressant to help me in this season of life. This season of screaming babies, tantruming toddlers, poop up to my elbows, perpetually messy house, not sleeping, non-napping, nursing a bazillion times a day, coffee guzzling, long, long, long days. And you know what? It’s helping. I can’t say that I’m “better” because I still have my moments of will-you-kids-just-be-quiet-and-leave-me-the-blank-alone-for-five-minutes, but I am certainly less rage-y and more patient than I was before. My husband agrees that my mood and attitude is markedly improved. So for that I am grateful. Eventually, I will wean myself from the drugs, probably after my son is a year old, but for now I will just accept my fate as a drug user. That’s a joke. Kinda.
Have you ever had a time in your life where you felt like your best effort to overcome a situation was not good enough? How did you cope and/or find peace with the fact that you needed help?