{Mamas Diaries: I Am Not Broken}


I have been a bit MIA in these parts. And I thought I'd share a reason why. A reason I am no longer shamed to admit. I have suffered from anxiety my entire life, falling into the pits of a dark "don't want to get out of bed" place. There were times the reason was a cruel manager, a broken heart, a death but most often it stems from a place that I haven't quite put my finger on. It overwhelms me in a way that I feel like I can't breathe and feel like everyone is pointing at me.

I often don't feel like I am good enough, like something inside of me is not right and very very alone. Like I am drowning and running in circles all at the same time. Like the walls are closing in and I can't find the door out.

A place I don't wish on anyone.

And a place that I haven't quite figured out how I can stop falling into.

The blessing of having a babe to take care of is that there is someone that is ALWAYS more important than me. Someone that I have to get out of bed for, someone that I want "TO DO" for. Someone that needs me all day long. As exhausting as that can be it forces me to open my eyes, play in the sunshine, "nuggle" on the sofa singing Frozen songs and makes me laugh even when I don't even think cracking a smile is possible.

I am not saying every minute is glorious. Gosh no. Some moments I am calling in all the help, and running up to my room to hide but most of the time she does a really good job of easing that tarnished feeling. Or better said, pushing me right out of the funk.

And then to have a man, a man I can now call my husband, that is always patient, always looking for a way to make me smile and never questioning when I simply want to be quiet. But always there when I need to talk through feelings that don't even make sense to me. A man that will spend an hour at Home Depot finding the right sized pots for the vision I had for our stoop. A man that takes a day off of work to walk around Brimfield Antique Market endlessly because I have to at least find one gem... ha! A man that is the best at simply letting me feel all the feels and doing everything in his power to let me know his presence. A man that doesn't think I am perfect despite my anxiety but perfect just the way I am. The one that taught me what it feels to be loved selflessly by a man and never expecting anything in return.

I use to wish for a cure for my anxiety, so that I could stop the constant debate in my head about going on or off of meds. Wishing there was some type of procedure that could end this cycle of ups and down. Something that could "fix" me. But what I have learned from these two sweet souls of mine, is that a part of this makes me, me. It makes me work harder, plan more, push myself harder and has taught me to humbly scream for help when I can't take that breath.

I am not broken, or bad or tarnished. I am not less of a mama. Or less of a woman or wife. I am a mama that fights the fight of anxiety and sometimes just can't get out of that muddy puddle {Peppa Pig analogy for the win!) and that makes me different but not worse than any other.

So for all of you fighting this fight, for all of you, who have always battled it quietly and heart broken because you don't feel like you are as good as the next one, know that I am writing this for you. You are not alone and you are not broken.

So onto better days, smiles and cheers to those that rescue us from our own head.

I promise I am feeling sort of better and climbing out of this rut with some recipe testing and even {gasppppp) time on the treadmill.