Honesty is not always nice, but it is needed.

I started blogging because I was living too much in my own head and like my blog title suggested was getting dangerously close to losing a couple marbles.

I lived in my head so much that I would sometimes forget to voice what I am feeling and thinking and that lead to alot of strain between me and my husband.  He would get so upset with me (well still does) when he asks me a question and I wouldn’t answer, of course I would vehemently deny this because I did answer, problem was, in my head.

This is not a good place to be in all the time. I was feeling out of synch, isolated and like I was being a spectator in my own life, problem was, I was being a spectator in my own life.

I don’t know whether this internal retreat was a long time coming, or where it originated, but it got really bad right after the birth of my son and the car accident in Jan 2010.

It is already such a big shock to have a baby, everything you think you know or thought you understood about yourself can pretty much be thrown out of the window.  You will never be the same. You think that you have had nine months to prepare yourself for this, but really ten years would not be enough time to get your head wrapped around the chaos, the sleepless nights, the fear, awe, amazement and the utter horror the first time that baby starts to howl and nothing you do or say gets them to shut the hell up. I saw all of my friends who had their babies and they were totally in love with their little bundles and I was green with envy.  Why couldn’t I feel like that?

Then came the accident. And just when I thought I cannot get more lost, I was proven wrong. I. definitely.could.

I cannot describe the mind altering pain of those first couple of days in the hospital.  I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t do anything but lie on my back and wish I was dead, immediately thereafter to feel engulfed by the rush of guilt that I had just wished to be put out of my misery.  I was not allowed to feel like that, I had to be grateful. I was spared. I was alive. I would walk again. All the while I was screaming in my head, get me the fuck out of here. This pain is fucking excruciating, I want to DIE! Just let me die.  Why won’t you let me die?

Of course my son was also in his own little hell, a hell that he could not articulate in any other way other than crying, violent acne rashes, refusal to breastfeed, refusal to take a feed from a bottle and an inability to sleep for longer than what felt like 3 seconds at a time with hours and hours of screaming to break the tediousness that is sleep.

I hated every moment of it.  I hated my husband, I hated my son, most of all I hated myself for feeling the way I did/being the way I am. I was a perfect breeding ground for postnatal depression. I was the poster child for PND. And I wore my badge with shame.

In front of everyone I wore this façade of the doting mother who was ever so grateful for surviving that which we had. I cooed when it was appropriate to coo, I smiled and gurgled when everyone was watching, but all the while I had this deep dark secret that I kept locked in my head. I retreated in my head because that is where I was safe.  I was allowed to feel what I felt without the judgement. I was allowed to say that I was angry.

Only once in that hell did I try and reach out, I told a friend that I was so tired of everyone telling me I should be grateful, wasn’t a great reception to that observation, so I kept myself in check. I stopped talking apart from exchanging pleasantries.

But I am over that now. This festering feast is no longer going to remain in my head and corrupt everything that I feel and think.

Yes I had PND but for the first time in almost 18 months I can honestly say, I adore my son. He challenges me to be better than what I am, he makes me smile and when I think of him my heart swells.  I think I am finally experiencing that new-motherhood glow. It took me a while but I am finally getting over my anger too.  I actually went to church on Sunday and it felt good.  I did not feel like a hypocrite.

I am taking this in baby steps, but I am getting there. Starting with this post, I am moving a bit out of my head.

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