50 Shades of Dark

Medication

*TRIGGER ALERT*

One of the biggest decisions I’ve ever had to make was probably whether or not to go on medication.

It’s scary ass shit. It’s such a big decision to make (well at least for me) because:

 a)I was basically admitting that I needed help and crap was going on beyond my control

 b) I had thought “If people found out, would they use this against me to take my child away”?

c) I was so scared that I’d have to be dependent on these forever to be normal

 d) I’m basically labelling myself as a crazy person.

e) What would people think if they found out I was on meds?

… I can basically go on and on to reason z).

But now that I’m on meds, I feel kinda dumb waiting it out for this long. I have had these antidepressants since October, but I have only been on them since two weeks ago. But why though, at this day and age why the hell did I wait for so long to suffer before making myself feel better. What was i trying to prove?  

…K, that was kinda rhetorical…I was trying to prove that I was strong enough to get over it on my own. But you know what? I think I’m stronger for seeking out help and admitting I needed it because it takes balls to admit you can’t do it alone.

I often see women inquire about what natural foods and/or oils to use…Or if anyone is dealing with PPD then what strategies they use to cope. I tried so many natural remedies to. I tried to be active and surround myself with happy things, but no matter what I was still always miserable inside. In the back of my head, I still just wanted to die.

At the end of the day, if you are suffering like I am, you will still find a minute or so where all these thoughts come rushing in your head. Whenever these would happen to me, I would imagine how much happier my family would be without me. How better off they would be. How I’m just burdening them with my annoying presence because I’m so sad all the time.

I would think:

“But why am I so sad? All my life I wanted to get married, have kids and just live a simple life. Here I am doing that. I married my high school love, had the most adorable baby, bought a house, got a nice new vehicle to drive, fuck even my neighbours are nice. What the hell is wrong with me?! I can’t even appreciate all these blessings in my life. I should just go and die”.

Then my thoughts would flood over to what I didn’t get to do that day. What my failures were…how I could have done them better…

“There’s so much laundry, how did I not even get to touch the sink today…I should have made frozen meals ahead of time, now we’re eating left overs again…If I wasn’t alive I bet he could find a better woman who wouldn’t be so useless”!

I would start comparing myself to other Mothers that I know and get jealous. I often referred to them as “Unicorn Moms” lol.

When I would go and run errands with my husband I would often point out these “unicorn moms” because they look so damn good, meanwhile here I am…Drenched in BO with some dry drool, eye crust and my oily hair is wrapped in a bun.

“How do they do it? Everyone else looks great…But I’m just such a fucking loser I can’t even look decent going out, man I’m so gross. I wish I could just disappear. Maybe I should get a pair of scissors and just slice the fat out so I wouldn’t be so nasty looking”.

Even though my husband, mother and friends were there. I didn’t care. I felt nothing. I was numb. Even when all these insults were thrown at me or when I was so furious, sad, frustrated- I couldn’t cry. I would pick fights, end them then pick up a new one all over again.

But then you know what would happen. My son. My amazing, angelic miracle. He would look at me with all the love in the universe and show me through his eyes that only I could comfort him. That he needs me, loves me. Wants me. Despite my smells, my grossness- he only wanted me.
I felt so unworthy of such love. But everytime I would fall into this out of doom, his little hands would pull me out and his smile would s


hed some light into my dark abyss.

I guess what I’m trying to say is…If your suffering, take the meds. Find help. I know that even though this makes sense…It’s still hard to take those steps. But trust me when I tell you, taking medication is so much better than feeling alone, anxious and suicidal.

If I can do it, you can too.

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