...so they say.

I have been debating writing this post. Mostly because, although I have a social media presence, I am a rather private person. And a conundrum apparently. As I write this, I do not even know what direction I will go. So let's dive in then, shall we?

Life is kicking my butt right now.

Things are hard. Really hard. Tough. Really tough.

After Henry was born I sunk into deep postpartum anxiety. I did not even know that was a thing. I knew about postpartum depression, but anxiety was not on my radar. I was a wreck. I could not function. I reached out to my doctor for help (which, if you know me was a huge step in and of itself). With some soul-searching, praying, and hand-holding from my dear husband, I started taking medication. It saved me.

About a month ago, I was feeling like myself again. I went to my doctor and talked with her about weaning off my medication. She gave me a regimen and I was SSRI-free for a couple of weeks. Then things changed.

Henry has started solids which has changed his nursing, eating, sleeping, everything habits. It's all part of his development, of course, but it's been an adjustment. He is also officially on the move, thereby increasing his appetite and making my anxiety flare up again. Emma will be three next month. She has always been on the faster side of emotional development so we are in the heart of the threes (terrible? terrific? terrifying? trying? tumultuous? taxing? tremendous? tough?).

I also added one day of work per week. Between work, motherhood, home making, marriage, and general life I am stretched thin. The thinnest. The logical, well-rested, confident me knows that playing the comparison game is dangerous. But the exhausted, anxious, and self-conscious me has all the guilt.

It's that heavy, gut-wrenching guilt. That crushing, encompassing guilt.

Why can't I just be grateful? Why can't I keep everything together? Why aren't I just happy for what I have? Why can't I eat better? Why can't I be a better wife? Mother? Dentist? Why does everyone else have their lives together? If I worked more we would be better financially. If I worked less my children would behave better.

And on and on...

Henry wants to nurse all night, Emma wants to wake up at the crack of dawn, I want to spend time with my husband, I want to take a damn shower.

Where am I going with all of this? Well mostly, I just wanted to because typing it out seems better than getting suffocated by my own guilty conscious. Maybe it will help. Maybe you'll look at me differently. Maybe I should be ashamed. Maybe I'll feel less guilty.

So until I have things a little more figured out (this may take a while) I will be taking my medication again. Because it keeps me sane. I also need to carve out time for self-care, whatever that looks like.