The Crazies
Posted by admin | Filed under Depression, Insane in the MOMbrane, Motherhood, Stay At Home Moms, Uncategorized, Womanhood, parenting, schizo
I am a desperate housewife.
Have I ever mentioned how much I hate those words? Individually, they suck. Together, they suck worse. I mean, they are totally offensive together. I cringe admitting that I am, in fact, desperate. And because I hate the word "housewife" so much, I will go with "home economist." I am a desperate home economist. Ahem.
Fuck.
So here's the story, in brief: I went off my happies, a bunch of shit happened at once (including various illnesses that included my girls and me puking together in unison) that would have driven a normal, sane human being to the brink, and I went on birth control pills. Now, I will address each of those shit-storms separately:
1. I went off my happies. Aka, my happy pills. What? I thought I'd be fine without them. And I was, until….
2. A bunch of shit happened. Where do I start? The holidays. I'm not sure when the holidays were considered fun, but they have become a fucking nightmare at this point. Suicide rates are apparently high during the holidays, and while I hear it's because lonely people feel even lonelier during the season of cheer, I think it's parents of small children deciding they simply cannot take it anymore. My parents were meddling in my parenting and heaping guilt on me and TH, my kids were throwing tantrums because I wouldn't let them have yet ANOTHER candy cane for dinner, no one was sleeping in his/her own bed… Additionally, we all caught a nasty, snot-ridden cold (I'm still snotting from said cold) AS WELL AS a violent stomach bug. Snot for Christmas, puke for New Years. Oh, it was fun. I was sleeping in the same room as Nora, trying to puke quietly into a bucket so as not to wake her. God, I wish I was making that shit up.
3. I went on birth control pills. Look, my periods are wacky, and I will absolutely go INSANE if I get pregnant. So all these women are on the Pill, telling me it's fine, and oh, it's the lightest, bestest one around, so I said, OK! Let's do this thing. Bring on the hormones.
Huh.
In hindsight, I should not have gone off my happies during the holidays AND started BCPs. You're right, you're right. I set myself up.
But Jesus Christ on a cracker, if I could have videotaped myself yesterday. I was a raving lunatic, a deranged person. I was snapping at my girls for little things, ripping into TH like there was no tomorrow, throwing a fit because I got in the shower only to find that I’d run out of soap and had to get out, dripping wet, and rummage through the cabinets… My girls heard me say the word “motherfucker” at least twice, and if they grow up to need therapy, it will be because of yesterday, I swear.
Can you say INTERVENTION?
I think TH tried, by coolly asking if I was going to go Andrea Yates on his ass, and as you can imagine, that didn’t help things.
Men.
Anyways, I am doing much better today, thank you. I am getting some writing done, actually put some makeup on this morning, and I am wearing clean clothes.
It’s the little things.
That being said, I’m attacking my doctor soon.
Tags: birth control, crazies, crazy, Desperate Housewives, doctor, happy pills, insane
Ode To The Happy Pill
Posted by admin | Filed under Depression, Motherhood, Uncategorized
They're meant to be pills, but they look like M&Ms. Mmmmm, chocolate…Photo by AndreyAlekseevich via iStock.
As everyone and their mother knows, I went on Zoloft after having Nora for postpartum depression. I went off of it when I found out I was pregnant with Ava, only to go back on it halfway through my pregnancy (something about puking non-stop and having to take care of a toddler in her Terrible Twos that did me in). I am on 50 mg of Zoloft as of right now, and to be honest, I'm not sure I'll ever stop taking it.
O Happy Pill, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways…
As my mommy friends will confirm, I am an SSRI Missionary. I spend a good chunk of my social time trying to convince my friends to go on the Happy Pill ("Happy Pill" referring to Prozac, Paxil, Wellbutrin, and friends). Granted, most of my mommy friends are already on them, but the few who aren't have to put up with my campaigns every time they see me. Why do I do this, you ask? It's simple: I watch as my fellow comrades start weeping at the drop of a hat, telling me that they are unable and unwilling to function and do basic things, and I can't stand it. How are you going to wipe your baby's ass if you're unwilling to wipe your own? Particularly after a messy shit? (You see? I ALWAYS go on the feces tangent. Dammit.)
And once in a while I'm faced with this question: If I need meds to get through the basic and common trials of motherhood, don't I feel like I've failed? What's wrong with our generation, that we can't just pony up like our mothers and grandmothers and ancestors did? Are we a bunch of pussies (I can already see the perverts finding my site on account of that word) that we can't pull ourselves up by the bootstraps and just deal?
Because women have been doing this forever WITHOUT meds, and there was a time when they had to muster up the energy to do a lot more than pop open a jar of Gerbers. You know, they had to kill their meals and then try to prevent wild animals from eating their kids, no to mention deal with the fact that any minute now a member of their family would drop dead from SOMETHING because reaching the ripe old age of thirty was pretty rare.
My answer, in a word: Nope. I've read enough history (and historical novels, however inaccurate) to know that pretty much no one was happy back in the day. Life sucked, and then you died. Thomas Hobbes described the natural state of mankind as "solitary, poore, nasty, brutish, and short." (See? See? I DID learn something in college). And things still pretty much sucked for our grandmothers, particularly those who did not live in this country. Jesus, life STILL sucks enormous testicles for plenty of women around the world (say, oh, Afghanistan?) And most of these women, past and present, suck it up and deal. But were/are they HAPPY? We're not talking about just living here – we're talking about appreciating every moment of life, and not letting the bad cloud the good. We're talking about being able and willing to stop and smell the fucking flowers. Because sure, plenty of people are too proud to try anti-depressants, but how many can objectively say they enjoyed their lives, their children, their families to the fullest?
And everybody has a crutch. My maternal grandmother, one of the strongest women I've ever known, died addicted to Valium. Plenty of nameless women have used alcohol, drugs, OCD-like behavior, etc. to cope with life's difficulties. A few are able to focus their energies elsewhere and do something productive, and props to them for that. But my question remains: How many of them are really enjoying their lives? Not to mention the early lives of their children? Because in the blink of an eye they'll be grown and gone.
Being a woman, let alone a mother, is hard. It's gotten a hell of a lot better, that's for sure, and it's the best it's ever been, but it's different, and still HARD. Nothing weighs more on a woman than the responsibilities and duties of motherhood, and that weight is tremendous. I want to tackle it head on, to do things right. I want my girls to remember me as a laughing, smiling mother, not one over-burdened by life.
So you take a pill that helps you shrug your shoulders and move on rather than cry and dwell on things. Does that make you a failure at motherhood? Or a raging, immense, ass-whooping success?
That's what I thought, bitches.
Tags: anti-depressants, Depression, Happy Pill, Motherhood, postpartum, postpartum depression, Thomas Hobbes, Valium, Zoloft
Birth Control
Posted by admin | Filed under Depression, Motherhood, Pregnancy, Uncategorized, Womanhood
Unless you're Michelle Duggar, chances are you'd like to NOT spend the rest of your life birthing babies. (Check out that 'do. DAMN.) Enter birth control, an issue that really shouldn't be only about women, but for all practical purposes, IS.
In answer to the poll question, I revealed that I took the Pill. Since creating that poll, I've stopped because, HELLO, I forgot how much it fucked me up emotionally. THE PILL IS EVIL. I was on the Pill prior to having the girls, and I'd gotten so used to being a bitch that I'd forgotten I wasn't like that naturally. When I went off the Pill to conceive, it was like a breath of fresh air. So THIS is how I am when I'm not perpetually PMSing! I'm actually enjoying myself!
I went on the Pill initially because my periods were inconsistent, long, and heavy. You have no idea how many times I started my period and wasn't prepared. Any of my college roommates can attest to this. My all-time favorite story is when I was at a sorority crush party and my hottie crush and I sat together chatting, when I felt IT. My period had started, and I was wearing this paper-thin dress and a thong. Why hadn't I predicted this, you ask? Because I was on day 21 of my cycle, and my period NEVER, EVER came this early. Normally it came between 27-32 days. I made excuses the whole night as to why I wasn't going to dance, and no, I'm not going to the bar, and I'm going to sit right here the whole fucking night, goddammit, and maybe I'll still be here tomorrow morning. It was this memorable incident that convinced me I had to get on the Pill.
I went on the lowest hormone Pill around, and instantly became a raging bitch. Which, in college, is not necessarily a bad thing. My periods got lighter and more predictable, but I suddenly started suffering from cramps, moodiness, and complete loss of libido. So when, after having Ava, my OB suggested the mini Pill, I scoffed at her, because I was breastfeeding and was fairly certain I was not going to get preggers. When I finally had a period, I decided I did not want to worry about it and just went on the Pill again. And holy shit, I couldn't do it. I was snapping at Nora and TH for no reason, crying at the drop of a hat, and felt the remnants of my libido vanish into thin air.
So what's a girl to do? When I asked my OB about a diaphragm, she rolled her eyes and said, "So we'll be seeing you again soon, I guess!" Look, lady, I don't want to pump myself full of hormones anymore. Next thing I know, I'll have to up my dosage of Zoloft to counteract the effects of the Pill. Thanks, but no thanks.
So according to the results of the poll, a few of you use "other" methods of birth control, and I want to know what those are. I have a sneaking suspicion they are "abstinence" and "absolutely no libido." But if they aren't, can you help a woman out and reveal your secrets? I'm not sure where to go from here.
Um… Someone missed a few days…Photo by Shemer via Flickr.
Tags: birth control, contraceptives, diaphragm, Michelle Duggar, poll, Pregnancy, the Pill
“Bad” Parenting
Posted by admin | Filed under Depression, In the News, Motherhood, Stay At Home Moms, Womanhood, parenting
Thanks to an old friend, I have realized that many of you gals have a lot of things you’d like to say about motherhood or staying at home with your kids that you haven’t dared say aloud for whatever reason – the biggest of which is fear of how people will react. Trust me, I know. Admitting that you’ve made parenting gaffes is akin to saying “I suck as a parent and will be contributing to the delinquency of our society with the addition of my very own fucked up kids! Hooray!”
For some reason, parenting confessions are getting a lot of attention recently, and most of it isn’t good. Do you know what I have to say about that? CHILL OUT, FOLKS. No one is giggling over child abuse here. No one is laughing their asses off over smacking their kid upside the head or locking them in closets – at least not in earnest. Sure, we laugh about feeding them junk food, letting them watch too much TV, and stuff like that, but sharing those kinds of mistakes or shortcomings help us realize that, contrary to what we are led to believe, parents are merely HUMAN, and the pressure to be perfect is STUPID, and despite our best efforts at ruining them, our kids will turn out FINE. We all want to do what is best for our children, but we also realize that the parenting wars that go on between moms are simply ridiculous and only serve to make us feel inadequate, no matter how hard we try to be good parents. And guess what happens to a parent who feels like no matter what they do they will never be good enough? They become depressed and simply stop trying. Or, in the alternative, they hide their true selves and outwardly insist that they are perfect, like all those delightful ladies I’ve ranted about in the past – President of the PTA; manicured feet in Tory Burch flats; well-dressed, passive-aggressive children; a husband who is cheating with a stripper; and a raging Vicodin addiction. Yeah, like THAT’S normal.
In a society where independence is valued and toughing things alone is the way to go, mothers feel especially isolated – there is no “family unit” to help a mother with her small children, to allow her a break from her maternal duties to take care of herself; no sisters, aunts and cousins to soothe a crying baby for a few hours while Mama sleeps. You want help? Hire someone. Don’t have the money? Well, you’re up Shit Creek without a paddle, now, aren’t you? In a society where “Glam-mas” are on the rise and women are expected to do and be everything – successful mom, wife, and careerist – something has to give, and most often it is our sanity. To which I say: Fuck that.
So this is my response to the problem: Forget the parenting gurus and judgmental old ladies at the mall (or, as it were, on the internet). Love your children a lot, give them plenty of attention, make sure you don’t neglect your own needs in the process, and laugh about the rest. Hey, we’re just trying to keep our heads above water, and laughing about it is the way to go.
In regards to all those thoughts tumbling around in your head about motherhood: Let ‘em out. Once a month hereonafter, I will feature snippets of thoughts from my guests and compile them into a post. Send me your thoughts. It can be a rant about your kids, about your parents, about pregnancy, ANYTHING. I won’t use your real name if you don’t want me to.
And have no fear: Even if you don’t have the nerve to send me anything, I will continue to express my (uncensored) thoughts and hope I provide a voice for you.
Tags: bad parenting, glam-mas, parenting, parenting styles, Stay At Home Moms
The Stay At Home Mom and Depression
Posted by admin | Filed under Depression, Motherhood, Pregnancy, Stay At Home Moms
And now, for a more serious subject matter. * snickers *
Ok, I'm mentally 12 years old. But seriously, this topic is a very important (and often dismissed) issue. These days, postpartum depression gets a good amount of attention – not the amount it deserves, but more than it used to. Back in the Victorian era, if a woman weeped for “no reason” she was probably diagnosed as “hysterical” or something and treated like a looney. Women who behaved “untraditionally” or had "a tendency to cause trouble" were also diagnosed as hysterical, so goes to show you how much attention has been paid to depression in women historically. Just reading about the lack of consideration women's emotional well-being was given not too long ago is making ME “hysterical,” for shit's sake. Quick! Someone get me a vibrator. * snickers again *
For those of you (men) who don't understand what PPD is all about, close your eyes and picture this scenario: After 10 months (yes, 10) of nausea, heartburn, weight gain, fluid retention, being unable to see your feet, itchy skin, and a host of other disgusting and unpleasant symptoms, your vagina (abdomen, if you had a c-section; anus, if you're a man reading this) is torn to shreds by a 6-10 pound baby. You are sewn up and promptly sent home with this tiny, screaming being, some painkillers, a squeeze bottle for your nether regions, a few ounces of formula, and a body you no longer recognize as your own. No instructions included. Ok, scratch that. I was given a colorful, photographic description of what bowel movements should look like for the next two weeks. (Not mine, the baby's. I was hoping not to have a bowel movement ever again.)
So anyways, back to my scenario. Your hormones are all over the place. Your belly is hanging around your knees, your boobs have minds of their own, you are in constant physical pain and discomfort, and then there's this baby that you're afraid you'll drop or somehow break. Your entire life as you knew it is transformed, and this new life has no order, no routines, no predictability. Since you don't work or have given up a job to stay home with your baby, this chaos seems to stretch endlessly before you like a yawning abyss of misery. You are surviving from minute to minute, and you, as the mother, are virtually alone in this experience, even if you have people helping you.
Throw in a healthy serving of sleep deprivation and a side of colic, and you've got the ingredients for full-blown, have-no-mercy Depression.
Guess what? She doesn't plan on stopping anytime soon.
For me, what started off as run-of-the-mill baby blues spiraled into PPD when Nora would cry NONSTOP for several hours at a time. This kid woke up from Newborn Land a couple weeks after being born, looked around and thought, “HOLY. FUCK.” Then proceeded to scream for the next six months. One of the most difficult aspects of new motherhood was the fact that other mothers all seemed to be fine. No one I met had a colicky baby, everyone was managing to smile several times a day. No one ever considered running out their front door and never coming back, oh nooooo…. As a matter of fact, little Billy (I don't know anyone who names their kid “Billy” anymore, but whatever) started sleeping through the night at six weeks! Can you believe it? Blah, blah, blah, BLAH!
Let me take this opportunity to say that if you ever feel you're reaching the end of your rope because your baby is shrieking endlessly, set the little booger down in his crib and walk away. Take a 15 minute shower where you can't hear the crying. Listen to your iPod. Whatever. Just don't shake the baby. Throw him out a window, fine, but don't shake him.
I was bothered by the fact that no one wanted to talk about how horrible having a new baby can be, how it can be like falling in the darkness, not knowing when you'll splat on the pavement. Mothers only talk about how happy they are, how it's the best thing they've ever done, how they love their new babies more than anything in this world, because saying “this sucks” would be like walking around with a sign on your forehead that says “I Heart Casey Anthony.” Give me a break. If you're one of these June Cleaver moms I keep ranting about, the ones who read The Joy of Homemaking and think toddler tantrums are cute, good for you. Seriously. But just make sure you aren't suppressing some deep, dark anger that will lead you into drug abuse and homicide later in life. Hey, I'm just sayin'.
To everyone else, let me make this clear: PPD, or having the baby blues, does NOT mean you've failed as mother. The only way it makes you fail is if you don't do something about it. Get people to help you out with the baby and go see your doctor. Get some happy pills, if you think you need it. Ain't no shame in it. When Nora was four months old, I FINALLY dragged my sorry ass to the doctor and sobbed my way into a prescription for Zoloft. Best thing I could've done – for both me and my baby. Suddenly, things seemed manageable, and I could see the light at the end of the tunnel.
And about that light at the end of the tunnel… It's there, and it's wonderful. Really.
Tags: childbirth, colic, crying, Depression, happy pills, hell, June Cleaver, postpartum, PPD, Zoloft
