Momming... Hell LIFING... Ain't Easy

I write blog posts (in my head) constantly while nursing and rocking Waylon. I convince myself that my sleep, or actual time to breathe, or catching up on working, or a workout is more valuable than going into my office to write, but sometimes I think the writing would be way more beneficial to my mental health. I LOVE to write here about all of the things going on with my mental health journey and now adding momming, but there just isn't enough concentration and I am still working on time management (story of my life) when I am needed 99% of the day....

When Ryan and I talked about me being a Stay-At-Home-Mom (SAHM) I had this grandiose dream in my head that every morning we would wake up, eat breakfast, go for a walk, and tackle our day from a happy and healthy foot in the right direction..... What a funny lady! I guess you don't know what you don't know.... I mean obviously I am the issue, I guess he is a small being that will do whatever I make him do, but I went from a morning person to barely can get out of the house by 9 on a good day and that took a small army and a few tears. The things that duplicate when you are getting yourself and another being out of the door is overwhelming! "Do you have on your shoes?" "What friends are riding in the car with us today?" "Do we have your water?" "Do we have your snack?" "Shit, where are we even going?!" Literally every single time we get in the car.

With that being said, being mom is the best thing that has ever happened to me. At 2 years and 2 months old, he is the love of my life, the light of my world, and the epitome of everything I have ever wanted in this life. When we were talking about getting pregnant all the worries flooded, and I think they increased as we got pregnant and closer to time for him to be born. "Would I be a good mom?" "Would he like me?" "What if he hated me?" "What if we had no attachment?" "What if we wished we had never had a child?" And 435 other things that could pop up into someone's mind who is completely clueless of what is coming ahead of them. I have kept my kid alive, happy, fed, safe, clothed, and relatively unharmed for over 2 years, hell in some cases I freaking rock at motherhood!

Selfishly, having Waylon hasn't stopped the feelings of wanting to die, and selfishly, he is my excuse to live, an unfair burden on a child. I try to look at at positively as I have a REASON to live! I wake up beside him and Daddy every morning and see what a wonderful life I have before my brain decides to wake up and try to kill me. I try to think that everyone may feel like they have a reason to live and mine is just wrapped up in a 3ft 35lb package of joy and fierce energy and imagination. I look at my child and think, there is no way I want to miss one moment of the joy of seeing this boy grow up and learn and blossom!

I don't really have a lot of cohesive things to say today. Actually, this post has been pieced together over a few tries, but the goal is to write something. I miss writing, I say that every time I make myself sit down and do it. It feels peaceful and freeing in my brain that feels like a life sentence in purgatory sometimes. The last two years have been an intense, beautiful struggle in so many different ways. I did have the hopes once Waylon was here, that I wouldn't have suicidal thoughts/ideations, hell obsessions, anymore, but I do. I thought maybe being mom would fill the void I always had of trying to find something that made me feel like I was worth something, and though I feel needed sometimes, it doesn't feel like I am needed on this planet. Usually I feel like if I was gone, Ryan would find someone else and Waylon would have a better mom who isn't being slowly suffocated by a demon in her brain. I think of suicide as peacefully going to sleep to not have to struggle anymore with trying not to be murdered or fighting to be worth anything or burdening my family and people around me with the unpredictability of my brain on my mood, abilities, and capabilities.

I have talked about it before, but I feel like I have two distinct sides of my brain, like two different people live in there. I have a very distinct rational and irrational brain that are almost like a demon and angel on my shoulders. I feel like I am constantly battling them against each other. The angel is constantly telling the demon that life is worth living and the demon is constantly giving us all the reasons to die. The demon feels like 80% of my brain and a bully, while the angel (which I don't identify with at all so maybe I should call her the Zena of my brain) is small but strong and persistent and always looking for the positive, but even Zena gets tired of fighting and the exhaustion is almost too much..... and then I look at my son..... the beautiful baby boy that this fucked up brain and body created and there is nothing more perfect than that.

NOTHING is more perfect than that.....

Our Story ;sn't Over

P <3