I’m a Survivor…Most Days.

I really want to get two new tattoos on my wrists, though it probably needs to wait until after I have another baby.  I’m not sure how that affects a fetus, but anyway.  I want to get the word “survivor” on my left wrist, and “hope” on my right.  I REALLY feel like I need to do this.

I consider myself a survivor, even after rough weekends like the one that just passed.  I was angry and agitated for no reason that I can come up with.  It was to the point of cleaning and purging stuff that just it’s around and takes up space.  I am tired of clutter anyway, and this weekend sent me into a frenzy.

After all was said and done, I didn’t feel any better, but it was done.  I have never experienced that kind of angry, in need of doing something to keep control, kind of mood.  Before I was on medications, I just lost control, and got angry at anything and everyone.  My daughter caught a lot of that, and to this day I still feel extremely guilty for it.  There was a lot of sadness with my PPD that quickly turned into anger at the drop of a hat.  I had no control over it, it just happened.  I was a very angry, sad individual.

I still struggle, like this past weekend.  I’m not sure I will ever be 100% depression free.  It runs in my family, and I am high risk.  That sucks, but I am learning to live with it, and deal.  I really want to have another baby, whether through adoption or my own body, and there is risk of relapse.  However, I know what to expect, and so does my husband.  As concerning as it is to be on medications while pregnant, I am more concerned about not being on them, and slipping back into the darkness.

I can’t go back there.

I survived the darkness once.  I do not have those dark thoughts towards my daughter anymore.  It’s been a while since I have, thank goodness.  I have thought about how I wish I could just end the anger and sadness, but it’s just a thought that quickly passes.  I haven’t struggled with those kind of thoughts since last year, and I hope to keep it that way.  I remind myself that no matter how real that may seem at times, they are just thoughts.  They are thoughts of someone who is not me, someone who has taken up residence in my brain, and is slow to be evicted.

I prefer to think that person has no power over me anymore.  It talks to me, whispers in my ear from time to time, but I have the power to ignore it now.  Is it easy?  Not hardly, but it’s something I have control of now, for the most part.  I have times where I need to remove myself from a situation in order to gain some control, and that’s OK.  There is nothing wrong with needing “me” time.  I know that now.

“Me” time was not something I ever considered.  I hated being away from my family.  I was completely uncomfortable being out on my own.  Sometimes I would go to the mall by myself to shop, or just walk around, and I felt like a lost puppy.  Just wandering around aimlessly, not knowing what to do with myself.  When I felt like that, I felt the need to run away.  I felt like that this weekend, but I recognized it.  I reached out to my #PPDChat mamas.  They talked to me while I was doing my mass purging, and I felt better by the end of the day.  I didn’t have that instant connection to someone before, where I could send out a message to the universe, and almost instantly get a response.  I did, actually, through my friends and family, but I never utilized it.  I was too ashamed, but I know better now.

I’m a survivor, and can’t say that without the Destiny’s Child song coming into my head.  Not the whole song, just the part where they sing “I’m a survivor…” over and over again.  You’re welcome, because I assume you also have it stuck in your head.

I’m a survivor because I am still here.  I am beat up and battered down, but I am still standing.  I’m not the same person I was before PPD, but the new me isn’t so bad.  I still have times of depression, but I know how to deal.  I know how to work through it, and how to make it out the other side in one piece.  I may have more bruises from it, but I made it.  I survived it.

I refuse to let it take me down into the darkness again.  I refuse to let it take me completely from my family and friends.  If it does gain strength, and beat me down more, I, along with my family, know how to handle it.  It wont keep me down for forever again.

I refuse to let it.

I’m a survivor.