depression, insomnia, PTSD

Can’t we all just get along? 🤣

It’s so quiet. Even the dogs are asleep. I hear my husband softly breathing as he’s in dreamland after a long day of work. The kids have had their snacks, drinks, and stories. All questions about the mysteries of the universe are on hold until tomorrow,  and then there is me: stuck in this silent battle between my body and mind. 

Mind: We should sleep. You have to get up with the kids in the morning and then go to see your psychiatrist. 

Body: I will, once the medication kicks in. In the meantime,  it’s going to rain soon. Every joint needs to transmit pain signals to set the rain alarm. 

Mind:  Ouch! My toes, ankles, knees, hope, back, neck, jaw, and….sciata?! Really?!

Body: Don’t forget the wrists…

Mind: Fuck you. I hate my body. 

Body:  Like you’re any better? You make me feel worse by stressing me out all the time. Starving me, tensing me up…getting scared of strangers in public. Oh!  And let’s not forget your procrastination on your huge assignments! It’s your fault I’m messed up.”

Mind: Everything is my fault…time to take a few trips down traumatic memory lane. 

Body is tense and hurting,  and my heart is racing. My mind is so loud among the silence. I’m afraid that when my medicine kicks in, I will miss the sleep train because I can’t relax. 

Mind: Remember the YouTube video your overpaid therapist suggested on Guided Meditation…

I’m too tired to look that shit up right now.


Why it’s good for my kids to see me “undone”

My husband had to work overnight, and when he’s not here, my hypervigilence goes into overdrive. I lose track of time and can’t sleep. By the time I had realized I needed to take my medication, it was too late or else I’d risk not being awakened by the alarm. 

Needless to say, I look like complete shit this morning. My hair is frazzled, and I feel like my complexion tells on me when I don’t get enough sleep. 

When it comes to my beauty regimen, I am an extremist: I either look like shit, or I don’t. When I don’t look like shit, my hair is fixed, and my makeup is done. If I’m going to spend time and energy on doing my makeup, then I don’t cut any corners. I moisturize, prime, contour, highlight, blush, outline, and…well you get the picture.

Today, like many others, my kids see me looking like shit. I look like shit because I feel like shit, and am using what little energy I have to ensure that their needs are met. [It’s called parenting for us non-celeb types]

If they were to constantly see me all fixed up, I would be doing my daughters and future daughter-in-law great disservice. I would be passing on the pressure to reach and expect impossible standards of parenting perfection imposed by society today.

They are too young to make that connection now, but when the right time comes, hopefully they will remember my “undone” days, and be kind to themselves. 

If you are someone with the energy and drive to regularly maintain your appearance and home, do arts and crafts, make all meals from scratch using all organic ingredients, then you have my deepest admiration. Please, don’t get defensive.

I hope you don’t take this post as an attack, but rather a way of telling you that it is more than okay to be human. I hope that throughout your hard work, you are taking time for yourself. We all need that, and it seems like with all of the social media facades out there, we need to hear that as well. 

Whether you’re all fixed up, or completely undone, I raise my cup of overpriced caffienated delicousness to all of you parents out there. Cheers.